Authors Note:

Hello again! It's me. I hope you liked the prologue enough to continue reading. I forgot to ask this, but if you could please review, so I know that you liked it, hated it, critiqued it....you know, the usual. As always, thank you so much, PrincessFawna and ApathyisDeath. Even if no-one else comments, knowing you two enjoyed it makes me happy, because I love to share stories and depictions of our faovirte video-game hunks. You know, Atton Rand, Alistair....Zevran.

Though I have to be honest, Atton wins by *this much* because as mentioned, sarcastic guys making snide remarks about Fem! Exile wandering around her underwear? Hot. ....Back to the story.

Prologue

Suddenly she knew pain. There was a bright, blinding pain enveloping her entire being. In this pain, all of the joy Tabris knew, all of the memories of what lies Beyond, are wiped out and forgotten. She came back to this world with a scream as her body lurched forward, writhing in agony as her eyes rolled back into her head. "Stop!" She cried, "STOP!"

She remembered her last moments - the sound of her swords sinking into the flesh of the dragon thing, felt the demon's soul entwine itself with hers and leave her body. There was a man, with eyes of amber, holding her and telling her to stay, telling her not to leave him. But she was gone, she could feel the cold overcome her body even as his lips, his warm lips pressed against her own, trying to pass some of his life, some of his warmth to her. Sylrien pushed him away. This was the choice she made for her people, for all of Ferelden. He had to be strong for her; he was her heart, and she would always be with him as long as life flowed in his veins.
"But you promised..." The warrior moaned, clutching her frail form against his own. "You promised you would stay, that you would help me lead. You must keep your promise..."
There were some promises she had to break, some promises she had lied about in order to keep going through the hordes of things that she had to do battle with. He would understand in time.
"Alistair..." Sylrien murmured, after the pain had subsided. "Alistair..."

'Yes, yes, you broke your promise to the young King. You did what you had to do. If it were not for your empty promises, I would not be here to repay my debt to you. But my my, you are a troublesome Warden." A female voice called out to her amidst the blinding the pain, rich and sultry, with a clipped accent. "If you had taken lovely Morrigan's offer, you would still be there with him, but that would have been too easy for you...This makes the second time I have brought you back."

Grey eyes snapped open as she tried to sit up but her arms did not seem to work. She fell back, and was aware for the first time of sheets, silken sheets. That rich laugh echoed in her ears as she looked up, looked around. There was a figure there, draped in a dark blue silk. That figure looked down at her with yellow eyes, and raven hair framing a pale, unblemished face.
"But ...But Morrigan..." Tabris murmured, still hazy and numb from the pain. "Your mother, why did she...save us from the tower? I have had such terrible....awful dreams..." Again that laughter rang out as her gaze became clearer. It was the face of the Wilds Witch that looked down at her, but not the surroundings...this was no hut in the wilds, but a grand room. Looking down, Sylrien spied a scar along her thigh - she received that when...when she was ambushed in the Temple of Andraste by cultists...

Why could she not move her arms? Again she tugged, tried to move. A manicured hand, riddled with ancient looking rings pushed her chest down. Sylrien was once more flat on her back, but as her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, she was able to make something out about her surroundings. They were in a room bedecked with rich furnishings: gilded mirrors, tapestries and the like. Light flickered from flames encased in glass lamps, and the air tasted thick - thick and coppery? 'Blood,' she thought, immediately trying to work against her bonds. The longer she stayed awake, the faster she regained some measure of herself. She should have been dead - she had killed the Archdemon, she had felt it grab at her soul and felt the life ebb from her.
"Morrigan!" She shouted, "What have you done to me?"

Again that musical, dangerous laugh. "Morrigan? Ah, yes, that was my lovely daughter. She thought herself free of me, but you made sure 'twas not so." Suddenly she became aware of a needle-like scraping against her skin, looked up and saw the witch carving straight into her skin. She must have made some noise, some gasp or another, for the woman looked up and down at her captive. "See, if you would have convinced your young King to lay with my daughter, then she would have born the tainted child and you would have known freedom...and life. But things rarely go as we plan, hmm? When you spared my life, I was certain that you would have done more to spare his, or your own."

"What, what madness are you speaking of? Morrigan - you called me sister once, you-"

"Silence!" The beauty snapped back, something flickering in her yellow eyes before she purred softly, meticulous in whatever macabre needlework she was engaged in on the pale flesh of the elf. "Morrigan is no more, child. She is now as you were, and 'tis of no use to speak of it." Another throaty purr as the blade cut deep. Whatever had numbed the pain before had begun to wear off, and Sylrien gritted her teeth, whimpering slightly. "Hush now, this is delicate work. One wrong flourish and we shall both be joining the Fade. Would you have the veil torn open on the vain hope of escape? Leave the world to ruin because you could not lie still?"

Begrudgingly she submitted to the woman, closing her eyes. There was no escape from this, yet.

Hours passed like eternity before the witch stood, satisfied with her work. "Child, you do make a fine canvas. A shame such things are forbidden. yes? Ah, 'tis no great matter. You have what belongs to me, and I will not have an elf upsetting my plans. The question is, what shall I do with you once I have claimed it?" Was a second death to be her fate? Tabris began to struggle in earnest, attempting to hold back her sobs. Her senses were on fire, her skin , her entire body aching and bleeding. "Please...please, no more. I..."

A fourth time that sweet, hateful laughter rang in her ears. "Oh, do not worry. I would still owe you a boon for sparing me the hardship of leaving my old form, and allowing me to settle into such a well prepared vessel! Do not worry, I know what I shall do with you, and you will not find it unpleasant. Now sleep, sleep child. You are bound once more to the Fade for a little longer yet..."

The elf tried to protest, tried to shrink away from the fingers that touched her forehead, tried to block out the soft whispering of words, and tried to fight off the drowsiness that began to overtake her. But it was all in vain, and as her eyes fluttered shut, the laughter once more filled her ears. It was all she could do utter a single word.

"Flemeth."