Siris, a young elf, escaped tevinter slavery when her master and his family got slaughtered by darkspawn on their way to Kirkwall. Not knowing if she has the Blight, she's now heading in the same direction in hope too meet a Grey Warden. On the road, Siris meet new people, and possibly new friends.

Siris-Oc.

Dragon Age (Bioware) Alternate Universe.

The shuttle to Kirkwall could carried six awkwardly uncomfortable passengers. Siris never took a shuttle: when the master would take his slaves somewhere, there usually would walk (or run) behind the carriage they were chained to. It was a terrible way to travel. Todays, heading to Kirkwall, Siris was sitting in the middle of humans. None seemed to care she was an elf, which was a rather good change. Tevinter was terrible with elves, but Siris was wondering if being enslaved wasn't as good as being shunned.

None of these humans were eager to have conversation. The only one who would was an old human scholar way too talkative for his own good. At a point, he thought Siris was interested about his books and started to tell her all what he knew about the elven culture. The young elf said nothing: she did not find the opportunity to cut his flow of words. The thing is, she was not interested by the books: she was merely curious (in a true ex-slave fashion) about how delicate it must be to clean them. And she was certainly not interested in what this scholar knew about the elven culture: he was taking superior looks, but only showed Siris how little he actually knew. The young woman studied ancient elves and tevinters for years, so her master would not have to bother. She knew a great deal about her people. She did not need a human taking on airs when he was nothing more but a fraud. The Vallaslin made of elfroot and halla horns powder? Blood was the only ingredient. The elven tattoos being proof of human supremacy? You have to be an idiot to believe that. Siris had her tattoos on her face. Her master's daughters thought Siris might feel "like" home with these markings; so they copied some with Vallaslin on Siris face. Fortunately, the design they picked out of ignorance was dedicated to Mythal. Siris was not much of a believer, but she often found herself admitting that having Falon'Din's (the God of Death) markings would be terrible: it would send the wrong message. Or revealed something unfortunate about her. Neither effects were good.

"Shut up or I'll throw you out in the wild."

The man who growled the threat was sitting right next to Siris. Until now, he was sleeping quietly. He was a rather tall and strong human, a warrior: he was holding his sword and shield like his life depended on it. His skin was white, his hair and growing beard were black. Perhaps was he around thirty or forty years old? But only one thing was certain: something in his life changed him. If he was an animal, it would probably be an old, powerful and tired great bear… one that would look at any hunter with hope that the idiot will manage to kill him. His very voice, deep with a lovely accent, was tired, angry and sad.

"She's too polite to tell you to your face that no one here give a shit about what you know." He continued before the scholar could complain. "Leave her alone. Be quiet. And you won't get hurt."

The scholar complained a lot about how brutal Marcher warriors could be. "Useless grunt not good enough to serve in a proper army" were his exacts words. But one look from the warrior and the scholar quickly learnt how live-saving silence could be.

"I am so sorry, My Lord…" Siris muttered, not daring to look at the warrior sitting next to her.

"I'm no "Lord"." The warrior spat, before biting his lips. "Why are you apologising for?"

"My blunder disrupted your rest."

"Do not worry. I don't deserve rest. And this guy was talking about things he knew nothing about."

"How do you know?" Siris carefully asked.

"Your nails were digging in the flesh."

Siris looked down at her hands. She did not notice her nails cutting through her palms. Now that she did, it started to hurt. The man took her hands and dressed them with piece of torn clothes; after cleaning the wounds with clear water.

"There. Better." He said. "May I ask why a tiny elf is traveling on her own in the Free Marches?"

"I'm looking for Grey Wardens." She answered.

"You want to join?"

"Yes." Siris lied. "What about you, my Lor… hum…"

"Rainier. Thom Rainier. I'm just wondering. Right wrongs when I can, traveling alone the rest of the time."

"Why?"

"I don't deserve to do anything else." Rainier said, his face betraying a terrible guilt.

It was obviously the end of the subject. The warrior named Thom Rainier showed Siris the subject was taboo by falling asleep again. Whatever he was really asleep was debatable. But the young elf did not want to pry.

For a moment, Siris tried to rest too. She had sleep in worst places and situations, but being on a bumpy road was not helping.

Suddenly a cry of pain from the driver's sit woke up everybody. A whistle, crackled bones, then a muffled sound of a heavy bag falling on the ground; Rainier reacted immediately.

"Heads down, now!" He shouted.

He put his helmet on, armed his shield and sword and jumped out of the cart. Siris did not question, and lower her head as much as possible. No one could see what was going on; but a violent fight was happening outside. And things were not going well for their protector. Siris discreetly poke her head out of the shuttle. Warrior Rainier was injured, fighting a dozen of armed bandits!

"We must help!" She whispered.

"Are you crazy?" The scholar said. "We'll get killed!"

"And if we don't do something soon, he will die." A woman said. "Do you have a plan, elf?"

"No, you?"

"No." She answered. "Fine, let's go there and see for ourselves!"

The "plan" was terrible. But it was the only one they could come up with. No one else wanted to help. Siris and the woman got down the cart and hid behind it to observe. The bandits were coming from the hill and circled the courageous warrior. The woman had no weapons but her frying pan. Siris had the dagger she took from the guardswoman's belongings, but wasn't entirely sure how to use it: she had no intention of killing anybody.

None of the bandits seemed to notice the two brave women, when they slowly come out of their hiding place. They hid themselves behind the bandits and hit on their heads as strongly as possible. The one the woman attacked fell immediately unconscious, but Siris wasn't as successful. Rainier ceased the occasion. He launched at the bandit and dug his sword in his chest. A hit in the face of another: breaking his neck with a deadly elegance. Another bandit came up to him. Rainier took Siris' Dagger and sank it in the heart.

"One less to worry about…" Rainier muttered. "Are you alright?"

The two women answered positively. Then Rainier fell on one of his knee, then on the ground. His leg was wounded. The cut was serious, although not as deep as the blood let imagine. The woman had a look at it.

"Not to worry. I can fix this." She said as her hands got surrounded by calm blue light. "My name is Emma Caravel, previously of the Ferelden Circle. But the Tower had trouble, so I'm here looking for a new home who would have me. Although… not Kirkwall. I'm heading to Ostwick. How about you? I think I heard you speaking of Kirkwall?"

"True for me." Siris shyly said.

"Why not using your magic against the bandits?" Rainier asked, a bit worried as the magic healed his leg.

"Magic must serve man, not rule other him." Emma Caravel said. "These people made terrible life-choices, but they are still humans. And I've decided to put my magic to good use. Killing people with it is not a good use."

When Rainier's leg was healed as new, the three brave souls looked around for the shuttle. They had waisted enough time and the dead driver needed a proper funeral. Maybe the scholar could help with that? Unless a chantry cleric were traveling with them?

But the shuttle was gone.

Emma immediately used her magic to locate it.

"Blasted ignorant coward scholar!" She growled. "Abandoning us in the middle of nowhere! Leaving that poor man dead on the ground?! Coward!"

"We can't go after them, can we?" Siris asked.

"Not on foot. Not with their speed." Emma answered. "What should we do?"

The two women looked at each other, trying to remember why they decided to leave the cart. Rainier answered that silent question by bowing to them.

"I must thank you, my Ladies. Without your help, I would have died." He said. "As repayment, allow me to escort you to wherever safe place you need to go."

"I'm no lady." Siris shyly said. "And I didn't even manage to knock "my" bandit out."

"Nonsense!" Emma said. "True, the man did not fall on the ground, but you distracted him, allowing our friend here to put an end to his miserable life."

"Lady Caravel is right." Rainier added.

"Lady Caravel?" Emma repeated. "I could definitely get used to that… No matter. Sir Rainier is it not? I accept your generous offer of escorting me to Ostwick."

Siris had no choice since both Rainier and Emma decided to escort her to Kirkwall.

The path was long. On the road, Emma told her traveling companions the story of Ferelden Circle during the Blight. Abominations, demons, tortures, possessions… A bloody mess that Emma barely escaped. Then, she lent her magic with the other mages to fight the Archdemon at Denerim.

Since he owed his life to the two women, Rainier told his story. At the end of it, Siris felt so sad she fought not to cry. The man won the Grand Tourney before serving in the Orlesian Army. Then he became Guard-Captain for a Lord who, for the Game, send him and his men to kill a political opponent, with the promise of gold. But things went horribly wrong when they discovered that the carriage they attacked had the rival's family in it. Thom Rainier could not bear it. He gave everything he had to the ones who needed it, then left. The only things he kept was the shield and the sword he had for the Grand Tourney. It was fifteen years ago. He never stopped traveling since. Never stopped fighting for the ones who couldn't. Dying would be a kind punishment, so Rainier never stopped surviving.

After such difficult story, the three travellers stopped to make camp: it was almost dark; and Kirkwall was still a long way to go. Emma made a fire, Siris helped with the cooking and Rainier secured the area.

At a point during diner, Siris could not bear not to tell the truth about her. Both Rainier and Emma were honest: why should she be any less?

"I was a slave." She finally said, making everyone freeze. "From Tevinter."

Siris pulled her sleeves up, revealing old cut scars.

"My master was not a mage, but his daughters were. They use me and the others as test subjects or living blood tanks for their experiments. We were headed to Kirkwall when Darkspawns attacked us. They killed my master and his family; then got killed by Grey Wardens. And left me for dead. I don't want to join the Grey Wardens. But I survived a terrible attack. If I'm sick, I must know. I'm sorry. I lied."

The two humans stayed silent for a moment, thinking. Rainier drank a bit of water before saying few words.

"Thank you." He said. "For your honesty."

"You are not mad?"

"Why should we be?" Lady Caravel asked. "You revealed something extremely grave and entrusted us with these informations."

"It takes courage to admit such things." Rainier said, speaking from experience. "We'll be careful, if it is what you want. But for now, enjoy being alive."

The next morning, Siris woke up early, to see Rainier preparing something to eat. Then Emma woke up. They ate, packed, and left. On the road, Emma -or Lady Caravel as the elf and the warrior pleased themselves calling her in such manners- asked questions about what happened with the darkspawns. Siris told her everything she could remember: the excrutiating suffering, the terrible silent and calmness that soon followed; and when she woke up after losing consciousness.

"I'll admit, I never heard of anything like that." Emma said. "About the violent reaction to the tainted blood nor the fact you survived it. If you allow me, I'd like to make some research about it. I'm sure the Circle of Ostwik must at least have one book on the effects of the Blight."

She remained silent of a moment.

"Could it be your tattoos?" Rainier asked. "You told us it was your master's daughter who gave you your dalish-like tattoos on your face. Since it is an ink made from blood, perhaps they put some kind of magic in it."

"A fait point." Emma agreed. "It's something I must studied too. If it is possible, you must know about it. Who knows what other effects they might have on you."

"But if you find something, how will you tell me?" Siris worried. "I have no home and don't plan to settle anytime soon. Not until I've met a Grey Warden."

"You could set up a rendez-vous: a date and a place where you must meet again." Rainier said.

"Then it would be at Ostwick." Emma stated. "I'm not sure I will be able to join the Circle, but I doubted the Templars would let me leave the city like that. Let's say… in three weeks, at Ostwick. How about that?"

"Alright." Siris agreed.

It was strange. These people, these humans were treating her like an equal. And they were trying to help. It was too new for Siris: how could she stand it without being emotional?

"So that's how being free feels like…" She muttered as her two traveling companions went into theories about Siris unusual situation.

Chapter 3: "The City of Slaves", coming soon.