Well, so this is my take on the "ending up in Thedas while coming from Earth" trope. I hope you all like it and I hope it all makes sense since both Thedasian and English are written in English, and eventually the Elvhen that is missing also.
Edit: I put some more space in my text, diminished the huge blocks of text. Hope it worked out.
His head felt numb when he finally opened his eyes. A man hunched over him. "Get the apostate!" The man yelled something that he could not understand. Another man replied. None of the words made sense, but the patient put this up to not being fully awake yet.
Gently, the man helped him up. Now that the patient sat upright, he started taking in his surroundings. They were in a hut. An Apothecary's hut to be precise. It was a simple wooden house, but there were a bunch of herbs, tied together and hung to dry on the ceiling. A pestle and mortar stood on a desk, strewn with papers. Concoctions in glass bottles on a rack, reed baskets on the ground.
The apothecary placed a cup of water in his patients hands. He said something again while the patient looked at his cup. The patient's eyes went wide with terror. He recoiled and the cup clattered to the ground. Then the boy, he looked like a mere boy at least, leaned over to the puddle to look at his face. He garbled something in a weird language.
The healer looked at the curious young man,who was feeling his pale face and pointed ears, as if he felt them for the first time. He saw the boy take strands of his pure white hair and frown, then softly smile. "Are you alright there, lad?" The boy looked up to him with pale grey eyes. They were a shock to behold. The boy was so pale and white, he could as well have burst into white light.
Whatever was going on in that head of his, it didn't bode well. The boy looked from the drying puddle to the man who helped him. He was a middle aged man with dark hair and a full beard. But if he was a doctor or some sort, he didn't look it. Weren't doctors dressed in white? The man wore a long beige robe with leather shoulder pads and beautiful trimming.
Where was he? But as soon as he pondered the question in his head, he felt two strong arms around his, pulling him from the bed, or at least what you could call it. He heard that strange language again from the men.
"Wait! He is not well!" The apothecary said. "I asked for the apostate!" "It will have to do." One of the guards replied. "He is demanded down in the stocks for questioning. The Apostate can look at him there." The other guard growled. He growled even harder when the patient, now deemed prisoner, writhed in his grip.
The prisoner flinched when he felt the grip tighten around his arm. Adan, the apothecar, looked at the trio leaving the little house, on the way to the chantry. Whatever happened at the temple of sacred ashes, must've messed with the boy really bad.
All of Haven spoke of it. A huge explosion placed the breach in the sky like a green gaping maw that was growing with each passing hour. The only survivor was this boy elf, a Dalish by the look of him, who stepped out of a rift, a green portal to Maker knows where, and fell unconscious. So obviously he had to be the perpetrator. But how could this boy, that didn't even seem to recognise his own face, provide them with any answers? What good was a trial going to do?
The cells were damp and chill and stunk of wasted hay. But he wasn't in one of the cells. Instead he was brusquely put down on his knees, in the middle of a stone circle. Shackles were put around his wrists. The boy looked bewildered. But somewhere in his glance was recognition. Like he was remembering things. And if he was remembering things, he might as well be able to remember what happened at the temple.
The guards unsheeted their swords when they saw a green light erupt from the boys hand. In their eyes, this made his guilt clear. He still bore the mark of the breach on his hand. It was like having the blood still on your hands. The prisoner looked just as shocked as they were. But it might be an act. He was still looking at his hand, where the mark throbbed in its palm. The door opened.
The boy gasped when he saw the women coming through. Every cell in his brain worked in overdrive. The woman was saying things, asking questions, but the boy didn't react. All he could think was: "I know this. It's so familiar." The hut, the apothecary, the stocks, the mark on his hand and now these women.
One of them had dark, seemingly short hair with a braid woven like a crown around her head. She had a battleworn face with a large scar across her left cheek. She was dressed for practicality. There were no frills and ruffles about her, instead she wore a breastplate, decorated with the image of an eye. And yet, the woman was still beautiful. But he KNEW this woman somehow. Cassandra…. It dawned on him.
And the other, Leliana, dressed with a long chainmail overthrow and a purple hood over her ginger hair. Both women were beautiful. But he doubted that mattered now. What he wanted to know is why they were here. Why HE was here. And why on Earth couldn't he understand a word they said? That headache should've been over by now.
The dark haired woman, Cassandra, lifted up his arm. The mark started throbbing again. More questions. He looked at them helpless. He shrugged.
"What do you mean, you can't?" Cassandra asked. The boy replied in a language they didn't understand. This was not Thedasian! The women stepped back and drew their weapons. "What is he saying?" Cassandra demanded to know. He heard panic in her voice.
He himself started breathing faster as well. He tried feeling his face but these binds didn't let them. He looked back at his throbbing hand.
OFCOURSE.. Why didn't he recognise this earlier? He had only just played Dragon Age Inquisition before...this. But how did that happen? How did he end up here physically? In the body of the character he played?
At first, he thought he was somehow "magically" sucked into the game. But if that were true, then these women would understand him and talk English, as he did. But they did not. This wasn't a language he recognised from anywhere on his own world. Which could only mean one thing...Thedas was real and he was...somehow conveniently… placed in the middle of it all, just at the same time the game would begin.
He had only just begun playing a new game, as he did often. He had played the beginning sequence around 30 times or more now, never got to the end of the game. The only reason why he couldn't remember this scene, or what they said, must've been because this was all way too weird to be deemed possible. Ofcourse he dreamed of it sometimes, who didn't if they liked to immerse themselves fully into a game?
But now he was here. Physically...and nothing made sense. For all he knew, these women might not even be named...oh. They were. He clearly heard Cassandra's name when Leliana held her back, and he heard Cassandra call her name. That way he could make estimations about what was going to happen in the future. But if he was here now, that might mean that what he knew and what would happen, could take totally different paths.
"If you have no answers, can you at least tell me your name?" Leliana wanted to know. She brought the boy out of his haze. "What is the use of this. He will be taken to Val Royaux for trial, IF he even survives until then!" Cassandra shouted. The boy looked at them helpless. If they were going to have to work together, they would have to find a way of communication, a common ground, something they both could understand. And right now, they were getting absolutely nowhere.
"My name is Leliana." The woman in chainmail said, pointing to herself. "You must remember something? No?" Leliana tried after no answer from the prisoner. But he was deep in thought. What name did he use? What name was he going to use here? He had two names he often used .
"Mehenion." The boy said. Leliana sighed. At least it was something. "Thank you." She said. This was going to be hard. They both knew this, they all knew this. With no common language, they had to resort to crude gestures, short sentences, drawings in the sand or snow. There was so little time however.
"What about the apostate? Might he not know anything about this? With his experience in the fade?" Cassandra asked. "He is by the rift, near the forward camp." Leliana explained. Cassandra cried out:"Splendid, JUST splendid!" How on Earth was she going to do this? She repeated herself. "Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take him to the rift. I don't know how, but I will find a way. Even if I have to drag him all the way there." She sounded resolute and agitated. Leliana left.
Cassandra jerked him up, putting him on his feet. She let the iron shackles to be replaced by rope bounds. "Come." She said. When he didn't immediately react, she said it again, but harcher this time. But the gesture she made, clearly helped, because finally, they were getting somewhere.