I woke up slowly, squinting in the harsh sunlight that was streaming through my bedroom window. My mum must have been in my room to open the curtains while I was asleep – I had kept them drawn for the last week. I tugged my pillow out from behind my head, pulled it over my face and let out a low groan. My head pounded as though I had sank two bottles of wine the night before. Had I? I struggled to remember. I left the funeral – shit, I left the funeral. No - I caused a scene, yelled at my dad, and then left the funeral. I was going to have to deal with my parents over that at some point. I left the funeral and drove to the tree. And then I left and went…where? Did I go to the pub after all? It would certainly explain why my head was all cotton wool and why I had no memory of going to bed.
Wait…when did I leave the tree? I couldn't remember ever getting back into my car.
"So! You are awake, at long last." I froze mid-thought at the sound of a voice that was both foreign and familiar, a voice that triggered something in my memory and the events of the previous day came flooding back. "Tis almost noon. Or were you planning on sleeping the whole day?"
I pulled the pillow tighter over my face, screwing my eyes shut and refusing to believe that this was happening. Still, there was a small, insane part of me that wasn't completely in denial.
"Morrigan?" My voice came out tiny, muffled by the pillow, but I knew she heard me.
"That is my name, though I do not remember introducing myself whilst you were lying on the ground, unconscious." Her words posed a question, but I had too many of my own right now, I wasn't going to start explaining myself to a product of my mental breakdown. Oh yeah, I was still there, believing that I had simply lost my mind. If only.
I let out a shrill, nervous laugh, keeping the pillow firmly over my face.
"Did I miss something amusing? Or are you simply a fool?" Her tone was still light, but I thought I detected a hint of impatience there. I laughed harder, and she sighed, irritably. Footsteps approached from outside and a door creaked open.
"She is awake." There was no mistaking Flemeth's distinctive rasp. I was laughing hysterically now, I couldn't stop. "And the better for it, I see."
"Hardly. I think she must have landed on her head harder than we thought." Morrigan drawled.
"She is simply in shock. It will pass." Flemeth's footsteps approached the bed. "She has travelled a long way to get here."
I stopped laughing abruptly when the pillow was torn from my grasp with more force than I had been prepared for, and I sat up with a start, finding myself eye to fierce, yellow eye with Flemeth. I inhaled, sharply. If my mind was creating these visions, it was doing a damn good job of it. Before I had time to process anything further, a mug of sweet-smelling…something, was thrust into my hands.
"Drink this, child. It will help to clear your mind."
"I don't-"
"Drink." She insisted.
"But I-"
"Drink." Her voice hardened and I raised the mug to my mouth, obediently. The liquid was viscous and sweet, but not unpleasant. I drank almost half of it before a voice in my head piped up that I was drinking something that had been handed to me by a known abomination, and I choked on the syrup and lowered the mug, coughing and spluttering.
"Better?" Flemeth asked, in a sickly sweet voice that chilled me to the bone. I opened my mouth to respond when a warm sensation spread through my limbs, relaxing the muscles. At the same time, it felt as though my mind had been plunged into a bucket of cool water. I gritted my teeth at the peculiar sensation, but once it passed I found that my mind was, in fact, clearer. I blinked up at the maleficar standing before me.
"Yes." I replied, my surprise evident. "What was that?"
"Essence of Elfroot…among other things, it matters not. What is your name, traveller?" She asked, her amber eyes probing my face.
"Lauren Duval." I replied, glancing at Morrigan who was skulking in the corner of the room, eyeing me with a look of deep mistrust.
"You are a long way from home, Lauren." It wasn't a question. "You are not of this world. And yet, you know me, and you know Morrigan…do you not?"
I nodded. What did I have to lose? If this was real, which I still wasn't sure of, although the concoction that Flemeth had given me had alleviated some of my doubt, I may as well be honest. I knew better than to lie to the Witch of the Wilds.
"I do…it's difficult to explain how." I finished, lamely. Somehow, I didn't think 'You're characters from a videogame, and I killed you this one time' would go over very well.
"Yes, I imagine it would be. Tell me, Lauren…what do you know of me?"
Just that you're a shape-shifting abomination possessed by an Elven God who plans to claim your daughter's body for your own.
"You're Flemeth, known to the people of Ferelden as the Witch of the Wilds; known to the Elvhen as Asha'bellanar; and, to the unfortunate, as 'what's that big purple thing flying towards us?'." Flemeth laughed, heartily, throwing her head back. Morrigan's face remained passive, although she raised an eyebrow, suspiciously, when I caught her eye. "I also know that you know a great deal more than you let on."
The mirth left Flemeth's eyes and was replaced by a look of steel.
"A trait that you and I share, I have no doubt." She replied.
"Yeah, well…everybody has secrets." I said, quietly, holding her gaze despite my instinct to look away from those fierce eyes. "But I won't upset the balance of this world by running my mouth off about things that are better left unsaid. I just want to get home."
And I meant it. I had spent hours upon hours immersed in the world of Thedas, wishing I was really here, fighting with the Grey Wardens to defeat the Blight. But now that I was here, all I wanted was to wake up in my own bed, content that this was all just a crazy dream. But Flemeth shook her head.
"I am afraid your home is out of reach…for now. You travelled here through a tear in the Veil…your arrival caused a great deal of disturbance among the darker forces of this world, and the world beyond. The tear has been repaired. You cannot go back the way you came, because that way no longer exists."
It took a few seconds for her words to sink in, and I shook my head in disbelief.
"But…you're Flemeth!" I exclaimed. "Can't you just tear another hole in the Veil and send me back?"
"I cannot. The path that you travelled to get here was created by powerful forces, the likes of which are beyond even me. Your being here is not the work of any mortal. Nor is it an accident. You have been chosen, and until you fulfil your purpose here, here is where you shall remain."
"Chosen? Powerful forces? I don't…I-I-I'm not…chosen to do what, exactly?" I stammered, frowning.
"Well, I should think that is quite obvious. You have been chosen to put an end to the Blight that threatens Ferelden." She said, with an air of someone who was explaining something painfully obvious to a five-year-old with ADHD. I laughed, and she narrowed her eyes.
"Chosen to stop the Blight?" My voice came out much higher than usual. "I can't even lift a sword, let alone slay Darkspawn, never mind the Archdemon. I don't have any special powers or abilities…Grey Wardens stop blights, and I'm no Warden." I insisted, folding my arms, stubbornly.
"Well then, it seems you know what you must do. The Grey Wardens are gathered in the ruins of Ostagar. You must go to them." She said; in the tone that my mum used when telling me to pop down to the shop to buy milk. I gawked at her. I knew that Flemeth was a little unhinged, but she had to be joking.
"Hell. No. I'm going nowhere near Ostagar. You know what's going to happen there just as well as I do." I didn't mean it to sound like an accusation, but my emotions weren't exactly in check at that particular moment in time.
"So what do you intend to do? If you plan to outrun the horde, then I fear I have credited you with more intelligence than you possess."
"I can try. I have to find a way to get home. If I have to wait until the Wardens kill the Archdemon before that can happen, then I will. I'll…I'll get a horse, make my way to Gwaren, catch a ship to Kirkwall, have a cold pint at the Hanged Man and wait for all this to blow over."
"And do you think it will be that simple?" Flemeth asked, her eyes glittering in amusement. I shrugged.
"Probably not. But it's a better plan than going to Ostagar to fight Darkspawn. I've never been in a real fight in my life! It would be suicide."
I stood up and strode to the door, grabbing my black, high-heeled court shoes from the foot of the bed as I went.
"I see." Flemeth followed me, standing in the doorway as I stepped into my shoes, strode forward into the clearing and looked around, trying to get my bearings. "Well, then I wish you luck, Lauren Duval."
I turned around to face her, nodding in acknowledgment.
"Thanks. You too." I looked around her to where Morrigan stood, uncharacteristically silent and observant. "And you, Morrigan. You're going to need it." I said the last part to myself as I continued to scan my surroundings.
"Oh…there is just…one more thing." Flemeth drawled, innocently.
"What's that?" I asked, suspiciously.
She didn't answer. Instead, she moved faster than I would have expected a woman of her age could, maleficar or no, expertly throwing a small, silver dagger through the air, right towards my face. I closed my eyes, recoiling, waiting for the pain, but it didn't come. I opened my eyes slowly, cautiously, and inhaled sharply as I realised what had happened. The pain did not come because the blade never found its target. The tip of the knife was hovering between my eyes, a hair's-breadth from my face, held in place by…me. I had caught it, without realising I had even moved to do so. I lowered the weapon and glared at Flemeth.
"You threw a knife at my head!" I screamed, outraged.
"And you caught it." She replied, simply.
"You threw a knife…at my head." I repeated. "That's just…I mean, what did you…I…I caught it."
I dropped the knife like it was a poisonous spider and backed away from it, staring at my hands.
"I caught it…what did you do to me?" I demanded, incredulous.
"I told you. You have been chosen. Do you think a being with power enough to bring you here would be careless enough to choose a saviour who could not fight? That is a ridiculous notion."
"Yes…that is ridiculous." Sarcasm is often my first line of defence. "I'm still not going to Ostagar. Catching one dagger and fighting a horde of Darkspawn are two very different things."
"You have been given a gift! Do not squander it." She stormed, angrily. "If you leave Ferelden, the Grey Wardens will fail, Ferelden will be lost and you will remain trapped in Thedas until the end of your days."
Flemeth was an unsettling character. Angry Flemeth was positively terrifying. And her words jolted me. If I fled, I might make it to Kirkwall…but then what? If she was right, and the Grey Wardens needed me for some unfathomable reason, then running away would mean the downfall of an entire nation. The Blight would destroy everything. But if I stayed…I was still shaken from the revelation that I could catch flying daggers without trying, but could I really do this? Become a warrior…a Grey Warden? I felt sick at the thought.
I bent double, clutching my sides.
"Shit. Shit! I need to think." I said, breathing deeply.
"Well do not take too long. The horde marches ever onward." Morrigan warned, in a sing-song voice.
Okay, so as far as I could see I had two options…no, I had three options. I could run – although that seemed less and less appealing by the second. I could go to Ostagar, find the Grey Wardens, attempt to impress them with fighting skills that I still wasn't sure I possessed and join their order.
Option three: I could go to Ostagar, find Duncan and try to warn him of Loghain's betrayal before it happened. At the very least, I might be able to save some lives.
"Okay. I'll do it." I sighed, drawing myself up. "I'll go to Ostagar."