Chapter 2. Small Mercies

I wake up to an unfamiliar smell.

Not the earthy, rotting mess I'd smelled before, but something... different. Something woodsy, clean, and oddly soothing—like pine and fresh leather. My head feels heavy, but I can tell immediately that I'm no longer in that creepy forest. I'm also no longer in the middle of a panic attack. Small mercies.

As I blink into consciousness, the first thing that hits me is how soft the bed is. Like, ridiculously soft. I'm pretty sure whatever bedding I'm lying on cost more than I make in a year. I attempt to move, only to wince as my muscles protest. My body feels like I just ran a marathon in stilettos, or worse—like I just got dropped into a hellish alternate universe. Which, now that I think about it, is exactly what happened.

Slowly, I sit up, eyes scanning my surroundings. Rich fabrics. A massive, regal tent that looks like the kind of thing you'd see in a museum display. Gold embroidery on the walls. Several neatly arranged leather-bound books. Armor polished to perfection. A fire crackles nearby, but not so close that I feel too warm. Whoever set this place up has a ridiculous sense of hospitality. It's almost like I'm in some fantasy Pinterest board come to life. The only thing missing is a few exotic fruit baskets and an endless supply of wine.

I glance down at my clothes. Ah, right. The maxi dress. Well, what's left of it. It's got mud caked all over it, and I'm sure it's torn in places. If this place really is Cailan's tent—and judging by the fine fabric and the fact I'm not dead yet, I'd bet my last pair of flip-flops it is—I almost feel bad about ruining his nice bedding. Almost.

I've never been one for clean, pristine things, but that doesn't stop the guilt from creeping in. I didn't exactly choose to lay down and make myself comfortable in a puddle of mud. But... hey, it's not like he's gonna notice the muddy sheets if I don't point it out, right?

I push myself up carefully, trying to ignore the sharp pain in my legs. There's a lot of hustle and bustle happening outside the tent. The unmistakable clinking of armor, shouts, and the shuffle of heavy boots on the ground. As my brain starts to reassemble itself, I realize... this is a military camp. Great. So I've somehow gone from confused, panicked traveler to possibly some sort of hostage. Oh, wonderful.

I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that I'm no longer in my world when the flap of the tent suddenly shifts. A tall, broad-shouldered figure steps inside. I don't need to look up to know exactly who it is. The armor is a dead giveaway. The gleam of moonlight still clings to it, like it's made from the stars themselves. And that voice? I'll never forget it.

"Ah, you're awake," Cailan says, his voice smooth, deep, and somehow impossibly calm. He steps into the tent like he owns the place. Probably because he does. The King of Ferelden, in all his royal splendor.

For a second, I just stare at him. I have no words. And let's be real—how do you even start a conversation in this kind of scenario? "Oh hey, I'm a random girl who got sucked into your world, no big deal. But yeah, mind helping me get back to my Instagram feed?"

Cailan's blue eyes are soft, almost too soft for someone who clearly holds so much power. He doesn't seem surprised to see me awake—almost like he expected it. Like I was just another part of his day. I hate to admit it, but that's oddly reassuring.

"You've been unconscious for some time," he continues, casually inspecting his nails. I'm guessing he's either bored or just extremely used to being a goddamn king. "How do you feel? Better?"

Better? Ha. Better is a relative term, buddy. I feel like I've been dragged across a battlefield by a horse that had a vendetta against me. But I'm not going to tell him that. Instead, I opt for sarcasm—my trusty defense mechanism.

"Yeah, great. Nothing like waking up in a field of pretty tent fabric and nice bedding after almost being killed by horrifying monsters. So, where do I send the thank-you note?"

A flicker of amusement crosses his face—just the slightest raise of his eyebrow—before he chuckles, the sound deep and rich. That, at least, I recognize as real. "We try to provide comfort where we can." His gaze drifts to the muddy stains on my dress. "Though, it seems you've made quite an impression on my bedding. Perhaps we should get you something more... appropriate."

I shoot him a look. "Appropriate? For this world?" I gesture around the tent, but mostly at my half-wrecked dress. "Yeah, okay, sure. Because this dress totally screams 'I don't belong here.' And it's a bit cold too."

Another chuckle. I could get used to that.

Then, Cailan takes a few steps closer, his expression shifting. He's still got that noble king air, but there's something else—something warmer. His tone is softer now, more curious. "I don't imagine you know where you are, do you?"

I pause. "Nope. And I don't know how I got here either. Unless I fell through a magical portal or some shit. Do you have any suggestions?" The words come out quicker than I intended, but I don't back down. This is my reality now, apparently. There's no time to sugarcoat it.

A slight tilt of his head, and Cailan's gaze sharpens with something like... interest. "A magical portal, you say?" He considers the idea, his hand coming up to his chin in thought. "Perhaps we can involve some of our mages to examine this further. If you've come from another world…" He trails off, clearly considering the possibilities.

"Great," I mutter, sinking back into the plush cushions of the bed. "I always wanted to be a science experiment. Right after I finish getting my feet back under me."

Cailan's lips twitch, though he manages to keep the rest of his expression composed. "I promise, we'll find a way to return you to your world. But until then, you're safe here. In Denerim, I'll make sure you have a place to stay. We'll figure this out together."

For a moment, I just stare at him. My thoughts swirl, unsure if I should be relieved or suspicious. The king of Ferelden, offering help. Does he want something? Is this some political maneuver?

But... the sincerity in his eyes doesn't seem to be for show. At least, not entirely.

"I appreciate it," I say slowly. "But I'm not some charity case, okay? I didn't ask for this, but neither did you. I don't know if I can even get back, but I'll figure it out and I'll earn my keep in the meantime. You don't need to make all these promises to some random girl who fell out of the sky."

Cailan doesn't seem put off by my attitude. In fact, he seems even more intrigued. "I understand. But if you'll allow me, I'd like to help. Perhaps... just a little longer?"

I nod, more to myself than to him, still processing the oddity of my situation. "Fine. But don't expect me to be a damsel in distress. Well... anymore than I already was."

His grin is genuine now, the tension in the air easing just a little. "Wouldn't dream of it."

I blink up at him, still trying to make sense of everything. Cailan's gaze is intense, though not unkind—his blue eyes studying me like I'm a puzzle he intends to solve, or a mystery he needs to understand. It's a strange sensation, but somehow it feels less like an interrogation and more like... curiosity.

"So," I begin, sitting up a little straighter. "What happens now?"

Cailan leans against a nearby post, arms crossed, his posture relaxed but alert. "Now, you rest. And we try to figure out how to return you to your world."

I frown. "Right. So, what's the plan? You just going to keep me here in your fancy tent while you figure it out? Keep me as your... what, exotic pet?" The words come out sharper than I mean them to, but I can't quite hold back the sarcasm.

Cailan doesn't take offense. Instead, a small, amused smile plays at the corner of his lips. "I assure you, you're far more interesting than any pet I've ever had."

I arch an eyebrow at that, but before I can respond, he continues, his tone shifting slightly, becoming more serious.

"You should know something. When you first arrived—when the light hit the sky and the earth shook—my men and I were out tracking Darkspawn. I felt the tremors first. It wasn't like anything we've felt before, and I've been through my share of battles." He pauses, looking down at me, his expression unreadable. "But the light was... blinding. I knew something had happened—something powerful, something I couldn't ignore. I told my men to hold back while I went ahead."

He steps closer now, his boots scraping softly against the floor of the tent. "I saw it, you know," he says, his voice softening. "The moment you fell. The light wasn't just light—it was like the sky itself opened up, and then you dropped from it. You were falling. I could see the glow, far in the distance, cutting through the trees. At first, I thought it was some kind of magical attack, but..." He trails off for a moment, eyes studying mine with a sharp focus. "But when I found you, lying in that clearing, it was clear you were... human. Not some magical burst, not a celestial being. Just... you."

My chest tightens at the thought of what must've been a surreal, almost unreal experience for him. He'd watched me drop from the sky like a comet, and I'd just been… falling. How could I still be alive?

"Darkspawn were close," he continues, his jaw tightening slightly. "I tracked them to that area before I saw the light. When I reached you, they were already closing in. I wasn't going to let them have you—not while you were disoriented, defenseless."

I don't know why, but the sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. The thought that he chose to come after me, that he hadn't just assumed I was dead or that it wasn't worth the effort to try to help...

"You saved me," I murmur, still trying to wrap my head around it. "But why?"

Cailan offers a small, wry smile, though there's something deeper behind it—something thoughtful. "It wasn't just luck. The light you fell from—it drew attention. The Darkspawn are attracted to such things. Their instincts, their hunger—they sense when something is... out of balance. When something powerful is nearby."

He pauses, glancing out the tent for a moment, as if considering something. "It wasn't just the Darkspawn, though. I... felt it. That pull. Like something was guiding me. I couldn't explain it, but it made sense at that moment. I knew I had to get to you before they did."

I stare at him, my mind still processing everything he's saying. He makes it sound so simple—like it was all just meant to be—but I can't ignore the obvious. He's a king, and I'm just some random girl who fell through a portal. Why would the universe guide him to me?

"You felt it?" I repeat, skeptical, but also fascinated by the idea. "Like some kind of... cosmic intuition?"

"Perhaps," Cailan admits, looking almost uncomfortable with the idea of attributing something so unexplainable to fate. "It's hard to put into words. But I knew I couldn't let you fall into the hands of the Darkspawn."

I can tell there's more he's not saying—something deeper in his words. Maybe it's just a king's protective instinct, maybe something more, but before I can ask, he shifts the topic again, standing straighter.

"We'll figure out what happened, and why you're here." His gaze softens. "But in the meantime, you're safe here. We'll figure this out together. You don't have to face it alone."

I try not to let the weight of his words get to me. He's offering help, but how much help can I expect from a king? A king of Ferelden, no less—does he just do the whole "rescuer" thing for anyone who drops out of the sky?

But then again, the alternative is facing this whole bizarre situation completely alone. And, despite my natural inclination to be skeptical, there's something in his voice, something real, that makes me believe he's sincere.

"I didn't ask for this," I say, leaning back against the pillows, my voice quieter now. "I don't even know if I can go back. And I don't want to be a burden. But... thanks. For saving me. I guess."

He steps a little closer, his gaze softening. "You're no burden. And as for going back—we'll make sure it happens. We'll bring in mages, if necessary, and figure out what caused the rift. But until then... I'll make sure you have a place here."

I look up at him then, his expression warm, and I can't help the words that slip out next. "How do you know I even want to go back?"

I'm not sure where the question comes from. Obviously I want to go home. I'm terrified and confused, but a piece of me... A piece that seems buried deep within my core and tugs me towards Cailan like he's the sun and I'm stuck in his orbit has me saying the words before I can stop them.

Cailan's expression flickers, but his gaze doesn't waver. "Because I believe that, no matter where you're from, you deserve a choice. No one should be forced into a life they didn't ask for. But that's a decision I'll leave up to you."

The sincerity in his voice settles over me like a warm blanket. He doesn't push. He doesn't assume.

In that moment, I realized something else—he's not just a king with a duty to his people. He's a man who knows what it's like to make hard choices. He might not be perfect, but he's someone who listens.

And maybe that's enough. For now.