I lay there awake but with closed eyes. Forbidding anything outside of me. Anything. I didn't want to get up, because I think if I opened my eyes I would start to cry again; at least if I pretended to be asleep then whatever had happened I could deny. Like a dream, you know? I would think of Jowan, and then think more about Kane and my mum and all those guys back then slash there. I couldn't afford that, I was too empty and I think if I started again I wouldn't stop. I couldn't help though but register noise coming from out there? Somewhere. I also knew that there was someone sitting next to me that I didn't recognise. There was the shuffle as they shifted on a chair. There wasn't the light almost floral and leather scent Leiliana always seemed to smell of, not Morrigan either. Hers was feathers and musk. Not Sten, or Wolf. Alistair and Finn smelt similar, probably because they both wore hard steel armour. Though Alistair reminded me of hay and fields, weird, like the farms I remember going to when I was younger. But Finn, for looking like Kane his scent didn't remind me of that guy at all. He was stones after rain. Like that mist that rises after a sun shower on a hot day. Or the smell of trees after a dusting of rain. Or maybe…

I felt the person stand and I ripped open my eyes. It wasn't bright in that room, the closest source of light coming from a small gathering of candles. My head spun to the side, I recognised that person and then I think literally flew out of bed. Bed clothes were flung wide and I slammed back first into the wall. Wynne. She looked older and softer than she had in the game. And papery. I'm not sure if that is the right word. Used? No that doesn't seem to work. Partly see through, not translucent but worn. But the light that seemed to radiate softly from beneath her skin I knew was that spirit of Faith that had resurrected her during the battle in the Tower. I'd kind of thought her to be older, quite a bit older than the others. That her likeness just hadn't been done well in the game; like may be the gamers wouldn't have liked to drag an old lady around with them, or she wouldn't fit in looks wise with the others. But she wasn't that old, maybe sixty or so. Perhaps it was the spirit inside her that helped her seem more youthful.

"Be calm child. I am Wynne."

Her voice was exactly the same. Like a fluffy pillow. There didn't seem to be any steel in her voice, any harshness. I couldn't imagine her as a strict teacher, or be anything but kind even to a frightened elven mageling.

"Wynne."

I said, parroting her name. She smiled and nodded, even going so far as to pat the bed I had so elegantly arisen from. I arched my eyebrow,

"I am no child."

Heading towards the door I, yes I ripped it open suddenly pissed that she would call me that so easily. I did not slam it but it was certainly closed behind me. The hall was empty. Thankfully of both live and dead bodies. That thought and the fact that it actually occurred made me slow my passage to where ever it was I was heading. I had burnt bodies, fought zombies and held the murdered body of someone who could have been my best friend and also ordered his death. Who was I? I staggered to a window box, wearily climbing into the cushioned surface and peered at a distorted landscape through diamond shaped panes of glass. Once there I finally realised that I no longer wore leather armour and as relieved and dumb as I felt, not wearing either the linen clothing I had been wearing… Instead I wore a long pale night gown. It was rucked up with how I was sitting; there was pretty needlework around the neckline. I was quite welcoming to the random thought, anything to stop the previous. It was all quite pretty, the colour, the looping embroidery. I hadn't seen a lot of pretty stuff lately. Bar the flowery red head that had appeared. And Morrigan, she was quite beautiful with her golden eyes, regardless of their coldness. And Alistair I suppose; his hair was always perfect. Finn too, though he frowns way too much. Some of that could be attributed to me, but only some. I yanked my eyes up from the embroidery to stare at the candle sconce across the hall. I couldn't help but think of Jowan then. I had changed the plan so much in 'conscripting' him, in doing so had created a mindset where he was part of the team. A useful part of the team. One of mine. And instead he had died in saving Connor, to save those left alive here in the castle and the town below. To pay for what he had done in becoming a blood mage. The memory of the Fade was blurry, more so than the Fade had actually been. I knew what had gone down there, but it seemed to come from far away, from down a tunnel. The memory of Jowan's body in my arms was fresh though. My mind went back around to the shit I had seen and done since I had woken up in the Wilds. The agony I had felt when I had said that elvish goodbye to Jowan was still a part of my heart, but I think in the brutal sleep I had had afterwards I think I'd realised that Jowan had wanted it. Because it meant the saving and safety of others. Rubbing at my forehead I think I had even realised it when he had moved to hold my hand. Jowan had known the endgame; when Morrigan and I woke up. That he would not be. And he'd been able to make peace with that. Perhaps he had had regrets then, known that I would have stood before him I mean I'd done it before. I get that. I mean… it was hard this line of thought. I had had none. No regrets. When I had watched the luminous moon unfurl bright rays of light down to that clearing before me. I'd known that I would see Tamlen again… Maharial had. Maharial had known that she would see him again. I had just her body and its memories. Muscle memory and brain memory. Whatever the physical differences between elf Maharial and the human Ana, this was me. I had to hope that Maharial in her relinquishing of life in the moonlight she had found Tamlen as he had been before the eluvian, before it was blighted. I would make what I could of the me now and make sure another did not lose their beloved. I would look after those who could end it. Alistair and Finn. It was a tall order; I felt like an empty balloon. Not just from my thoughts, but for the physical reaction of my mind? Brain? Soul? Going to the Fade. Which I am not ever going into again. I think it had been made very obvious that I wasn't engineered to go there. Whether knocked out by Sten or not. Whatever part of me had gone there, it had caused physical effects; the rejection by my stomach, that weird pressure that had caused my bleeding nose. I was now very aware of swollen eyes, from crying and remnants of Sten's fist, sore throat again from crying and repeated vomiting and of course the sore stomach muscles. Adding to that, I don't think that my body had liked the speed and effort required to emerge from a sickbed as I had previously, but had kindly waited until now to voice its opinion. Even for being a tough elf I guess even it had a limit, even I had a limit.

Turns out still can totally find the kitchen. It was warm, mostly dark. And a few of the cooks had survived. And could bake bread. Not that there would be anything left for others come proper morning. I sat on the table, spread before me bread, what I think was butter, a jam of some sort of berry and honey. I was covered in crumbs, smears of the afore mentioned condiments. But most of that food was getting in my belly. Which for having me spewing my ring out earlier was heartily content to allow this vast quantity of bread inside it with out any qualms. With the fourth sandwich sitting ready in my hand, stomach comfortably tended too, I thought back to Wynne and my abrupt exit. I think I had taken quite a big umbrage to her nice words at my bedside. As I replayed them I knew she hadn't meant to sound condescending, it probably hadn't even dawn on her. In any shape or form. I didn't want pity either, though granted I had no idea what I wanted. Though right now it was the honey sandwich dripping its cargo onto my hand. As I chomped my way through it I pushed all that to the back of my mind behind all the shit I would need to do to have any chance of surviving this trip let alone being in a position to actually help. And helping in a fashion that Finn would welcome. The one thing that was worrying me really was the lack of worry. It's not like I don't know that this is reality. After that first night in the town and then Jowan, breathe, how could I not have realised it was anything but.

"Apparently I am really good at acceptance."

My voice was loud inside the kitchen, the only other sound being the banked fire. Perhaps this was something that had been left behind in Maharial's mind. Or was an aspect of being an elf. I shoved the last crust into my mouth, feeling not even a little bit guilty at the carnage I left behind on that big table. I walked around the halls and rooms. I registered a few of the soldiers on guard. I didn't try to hide from them, but kept moving. As I looked at certain things, a room or a painting I remembered parts of the game. It had a calming effect.

When I returned to what I assumed was my room I felt really centred. Like I'd made a really hard decision but now fit really well. Wasn't heavy or awkward. Perhaps that's what they meant by acceptance. I was more apprehensive about meeting Wynne after I'd been rude to her. Well not rude, but you know. I opened it and slid inside. It was warmer here, the fire for light as well as heat though at the moment it was damped nearly right down. It was small, enough room for the bed and a winged chair. Which was occupied by Wynne. She was smiling which was a good thing. And she was drinking. I knew that she liked a tipple of wine or two. But we were in a Blight, and what? A day out from a magic zombie attack and she'd found a bottle?

"I was wondering when you would return. I am Wynne. A mage from the Circle. Warden Finn asked me to look after you."

She took a sip of the wine, which was red and smelt like dark plums and raspberries.

"I appreciate that. I am Maharial."

I moved to sit on the bed, very aware of the smears of honey on my night gown like I hadn't been before.

"When I spoke you as a child, I meant it only in relation to myself. How do you feel?"

"I am full. I am sad, angry, lonely, sore. Yet I am happy that the others are back. I am glad you are here, correct in assuming that you will be joining us?

Wynne took another sip of the wine. I think she was one of those 'still waters run deep' people. Though she probably isn't backwards in coming forwards. Seriously brain? That is what I come up with?

"You are. You went to the Fade."

For all her approachability and mother-like figure, I wasna going to share this stuff with her. She was not my mother, either of them. Any of them. So far I didn't know that much about her, I couldn't relate to her. Perhaps it was the Fade or what had happened in and around it that had put my guard up; would I be the same when I see others again? Or maybe it was my realisation while I ate honey sandwiches that I would have to use everything Maharial had left to me. And the elven mindset of yeah, extreme prejudice seemed justified. Even against this soft spoken old woman.

"I did, as did Jowan and Morrigan. And then I returned."

"As did Morrigan. But not Jowan."

"Jowan is dead. He was a Warden recruit; I suggest you speak about him with respect Wynne."

She watched me over the rim of the goblet. I slid under the sheets and very carefully did not roll over to show her my back.

"Good night."

I closed my eyes, repeating to myself to wake before dawn.

Turns out I can do that, now. I can do that now. And I can do the opposite of my last awakening. Wynne had fallen asleep, after placing her goblet on the bedside table. And she stayed asleep as I slid out of bed and exited the room. A serving woman was already coming towards me, a very tentative welcoming smile on her face. She was prettier in real life than the game, so Isolde had sent her hand maid to wait on me. Yeah, don't think so. She stopped a few steps away from me and curtsied. Which I could not have mimicked for the life of me.

"Good morning Warden. I am Valena, Ban Teagan asked me to see to you this morning. If you would follow me, a bath is nearly ready."

I so wanted to ask if Isolde knew, but I think that she probably did. And had no choice. I did not versus a bath, so I nodded and followed the pretty girl, also younger than I thought, towards this great and powerful Bath.