Disclaimer: Dragon Age and its characters are not mine.

Prompt #6: Delirious

Mice in the Fade

Anders wasn't sure what woke him. It was difficult for him to remember what made sounds besides himself. Or Mr. Wiggums.

He smiled at the cat curled beside him on his pillow. It had been so long since the young mage had even slept on this bed, let alone enjoyed any sort of company in it. He was honestly touched that the scraggly orange tabby had decided to follow him up from the dungeons to the semi-open suite he shared with three other mages and stroked the cat in appreciation. Mr. Wiggums purred and stretched, waking up slightly as the mage shifted on the mattress to take stock of his surroundings.

As he yawned, Anders realized he was the only one here and briefly wondered how long he'd been asleep. Sound recognition wasn't the only thing he'd lost in his year of solitary; his sense of time was completely shot as well. He'd barely gotten a bath and a shave before relief and exhaustion had overtaken him in equal measure, planting himself face-first on his near-forgotten bed. The sun was a myth to him as well as the idea of passing hours it brought with it. Minutes? Hours? Days, even? None of it held any meaning for him now, and he could barely imagine a time when it had.

Mr. Wiggums meowed at his feet, bringing him back to the present, making him realize he'd been standing in the middle of a room devoid of life except for himself and a cat, and the thought made him shiver. The cat yowled more insistently.

"Oh, I suppose you want food, don't you?" Anders' own stomach growled in response, "I suppose I could use some, too. Come on, let's go to the dining hall and see if it's lunchtime or something."

The mage stepped into the hallway, almost exulting in the creak of the door's hinges, and the smile was still plastered on his face when he looked up to see four templars staring at him from down the hallway.

"Uh, evening, sers," Anders made real effort to make the greeting sound cheerful, though he only felt trepidation, "can you tell me what time it is? I'm rather hungry, and I hope the dining hall is . . ." he trailed off as one templar turned to his cronies and appeared to discuss something in a whisper.

"You're not fooling us, maleficar!" growled one as he pulled his sword.

"He must be a hunger demon," said another.

"Wait, what?" Anders started to protest. It was like one of his worst dreams come true.

"You'll not feast on our souls, you monster," the third one snarled, "Nerris, you take care of his demonic familiar."

"Isn't a man allowed to eat anymore—" he was cut off as one of the templars cleared the distance to him and slammed him into the wall. All his breath was knocked from his lungs, and he struggled to breathe for a second as he felt his mana start to drain rapidly.

It was a dream. It had to be. He was still asleep and in the Fade, a nightmare. A very real nightmare . . .

One of the templars reached down to pick up Mr. Wiggums, but as the cat skittered out of reach, all the templar could grab was his tail. "Don't," Anders tried to warn, even though the metal gauntlets would be more than proof against tiny feline claws, "He hates it when you pull—"

The cat's yowl of distress quickly metamorphosed into an infuriated roar as the cat caught fire in the templar's hands and started to grow in size. The templar's whole arm became engulfed in flame, and the sickening stench of burning meat and leather filled the hallway as the tiny form grew to tower over the other knights.

So that's what human screams sounded like. He'd forgotten.

"—his tail," Anders finished weakly.

Fiery talons slashed out at the templar who'd lost his arm, and he suddenly missed his head as well. The two other templars fared better, the one who'd drawn his sword managing to distract the demon while the other readied his own. The first managed to smite the demon mid-swipe, but the stunning effect didn't last long. It roared and struck at the offender again, slicing through his readied shield like butter before cutting open his thigh. Admirably enough, the templar stabbed his sword into the demon's side before another transverse swipe relieved him of his throat.

The next templar stood staring at the monster before him, sword arm shaking as his comrade's blade turned into a pool of molten metal at the creature's . . . feet. "What are you waiting for, Willem?" the templar pinning Anders shouted, "Smite it!"

The other templar shook himself, briefly nodding to his commander, but it was too late. The demon was already disappearing quickly into the floor. When it was gone, the templar visibly relaxed. "I guess we drove him off?"

A pool of fire began to open a pace behind the knight.

"You fool, behind you!" shouted the commander, but it was too late. One fiery talon pierced the knight's breastplate and lifted him a meter in the air. Bubbling blood escaped the hapless knight's lips as he dropped his shield to turn his sword in his grip, stabing backwards into the beast. The blind blows struck home, though, and the demon roared as it shook its prize side to side viciously, finally relinquishing the body as it smashed into the wall with a sickening crunch and clatter.

The commander shook off his shock from where he was crushing Anders' ribs into the wall, finally charging the demon where it waited, crouched in anticipation, and took matters into his own hands. He let loose his own feral battlecry as he smote the demon from two steps away, following through with a vicious slash along the creature's torso. The next slash removed its right arm, and a shield bash knocked it backwards a few paces. Before the demon had a chance to recover, the templar finished it off with a series of pummels to its head area before it fell over and collapsed into the floor, leaving behind a tiny, mangled corpse of ragged orange fur.

Anders had the grace to be sick on an untouched portion of the floor instead of himself.

"Are you happy with yourself?" the only remaining templar approached, breathing heavily from fear and exertions, "Turning against your protectors and your own in the name of 'freedom?' You disgust me, maleficar."

Out of the corner of his eye, Anders saw the tip of the knight's sword raise. He couldn't raise his head. He could barely move, let alone defend himself. His mana was utterly gone, drained, his only friend a scorched pile of fur. The mage waited for the final blow to come, the one that would kill him in this nightmare and wake him up in his dark, dank, solitary cell. The silence and certain solitude almost seemed like bliss right now.

When he heard the gurgle above him, he found the strength to glance up and see the templar twitching in place. His falling corpse revealed Anders' savior, making him wish he could wretch all over again.

A mass of flesh bleeding out of what were once mage robes walked toward him in the hallway. A face was barely recognizable atop the pile of misplaced, bubbly skin and sinew, but he was afraid to recognize it. The small weighted clasp at the hem of the robe was enough to tell him who he might once have been looking at.

"And who do we have here?" the thing that once had been Uldred fairly purred to his minion, "A new convert, perhaps?"

The abomination bowed slightly and left its blonde, bound offering before its master.

"Now, let me see," the man-shaped demon gestured, and unseen forces caused Anders to float upwards for inspection. "There is much potential in this one. Tell me, mage, what is it you want?"

The mage mumbled something that the demon only caught part of. It browsed through its vessel's memories, but could not find anyone named "Mr. Wiggums." Oh well, a mortal mage's desires didn't have to make sense, let alone ones who wanted to ask a nonexistent person "why."

"I can give you everything you desire," the being of pride purred to the blonde mage conspiratorially, "Just do as I ask, become complete . . ."

Anders laughed. The sound was throaty and slightly . . . unhinged. "Sorry, Uldred was never my type."

The demon snarled behind his human face, "Delirious." He couldn't imagine another mage laughing at such an excellent offer, or Uldred. Harsher measures would have to be tried, but not now. Later. First, he needed more minions. "He is of no use to me like this." Another gesture sent the discarded mage tumbling across the Harrowing Chamber where he slid to a stop inches from a pillar.

"Bring me another."