Chapter One: Dreams Are Made of This

Ash was having the strangest dream. It was definitely lucid (she was aware) but there wasn't really anything going on. Usually dreams had a point to them but in this one, the only thing she had was a rather curious feeling of being weightless. Kind of like the feeling you get for a brief moment when a rollercoaster does a steep drop. She wasn't complaining; it wasn't a bad feeling. She just didn't understand why this was a dream. To experiment, she opened her dream-eyes slowly. She saw dim candle light and a figure seated at a desk. As her gaze focused on the figure, it turned to look at her. She laughed slightly.

"Solas?" she asked her sub-conscious. Solas looked straight at her, eyes narrowed. She needed to stop playing that game—having dreams about it was a new level that she didn't want to experience. She closed her eyes again and went back to the weightless feeling. Not as weird as dreaming about Dragon Age.

"I think she's waking up," she heard a voice call from somewhere to her left. Did I leave the T.V. on again? She yawned and thought about her habits and their impact on her electric bill and blinked her eyes open. They came into focus on a woman with blood red hair and icy green eyes staring straight at her. She saw the tree-like tattoo fanning across the woman's forehead and the splatter of freckles on her face. She jolted up and backwards into an arm of a couch.

"Are you all right?" the woman asked her. She stared at her, frozen. No. There wasn't any way this could be real. She had to be still dreaming.

"She looks like she's seen a ghost," another all too familiar voice said followed by an all too familiar chuckle.

The woman reached a hand out and adrenaline shot through her system. She bolted. She knew this round room, knew the paintings that were on the walls. She ran through the door that she knew led through the kitchens and out. Out—she had to get out, wake up. She hurled open door after door until she met sunlight.

"Bull! Grab her!" a voice yelled from behind her. She ran, un-thinking, letting her feet carry her. Dimly, she recognized people moving out of her way. She kept going.

It was when she was on the bridge that Iron Bull wrapped an arm around her waist and hoisted her up and over his shoulder. She froze, all the fight in her had left when she looked at those mountains. The sight electrified her—numbed her. So she instead focused on what she could see of Iron Bull's back.

"Easy there," Bull's rumbling voice told her. "Don't think you wanna run out there dressed like you are." He was moving as he walked, back in the direction she had come from. Back to the room—Solas's room.

"What's going on?" another voice asked, close.

"Nothing to worry about Blackwall. The Inquisitor's got it under control," Bull answered.

She heard Blackwall grunt. "Who-?" he asked. "Is everything alright?"

"Dunno. Runaway? Apostate? Just a bit spooked," Iron Bull said. "Boss just wants to talk." He hadn't stopped walking for the entire exchange.

"Alright then," Blackwall answered. She assumed he was no longer there. She also assumed that they were close to the goal. She felt tears prickling at her eyes. This couldn't be happening. She didn't want to really be here. She was dreaming. She had to be. She heard doors opening, recognized the paintings. She was let down onto her feet. She registered the absence of body heat which she took to mean Iron Bull had backed off. She stared at the floor, not wanting to look up.

"She okay?" that familiar voice asked, sounded genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, she froze up when she got to the bridge though," Bull said. "Think it scared her." She heard footsteps and a broad, gloved hand grabbed hers.

"Hey, Sunshine? You alright?" the voice said and Varric's head ducked to peer at hers. That was it. The literal straw that broke the camel's back. She couldn't stop the tears that spilled and she started shaking her head. No. No. Nononononono. NO! At that, there was a sound like a gunshot and Varric's hand was ripped away from hers. She heard something crash into something and the sound of papers and books falling into the air. She then heard Varric groan.

"Well, shit," he said. "You could have just told me to fuck off."

Her head snapped up. Varric was on the floor, back against Solas's desk. It looked like he had been hurled through the air.

"I didn't do that," she whispered, too soft to be heard. A hand clasped her shoulder and she was suddenly face-to-face with Solas.

"Calm yourself," he said to her. "You are perfectly safe. We are not Templars." He was leading her back to the couch she had woken up on. She glanced around the room. It was her, Solas, Iron Bull, Varric, and the Inquisitor…her Inquisitor Lavellan. She stared at her. She noticed that all of their faces looked worried and on the defensive. Only Varric's face held any kindness.

"We won't hurt you," the Inquisitor said. "Apostates are welcomed to help…generally speaking."

She frowned, shaking her head again. "No," she said and once again looked at the ground. Maybe if she stared at it long enough, she could pretend the rest of it didn't exist. Lavellan's brows furrowed further. She opened her mouth to say something but was cut off.

"Is all this bravado really necessary?" another male voice asked.

"Dorian, it's—"Lavellan was cut off once more before she felt a hand under her chin, gently raising her face. Her eyes snapped to his brown ones, warm, kind, and worried.

"Will you lot stop this nonsense?" Dorian said, releasing her face and turning to face the room. "The poor girl's in shock. She needs a blanket and quiet not…this." He waved a hand.

"We do not know if she—"Solas began.

"If she what Solas? Is a spy? An assassin?" he scoffed. "Yes, she'll give us empty stares until we all die. What a story that would make! The mighty Inquisition brought to pieces by one crying, shaking girl." She realized she was watching Dorian as he spoke; his words were relaxing her, slowing down her crying.

"Dorian—"Lavellan started.

"No," Dorian said waving a hand. "The way I see it, there is a shivering girl surrounded by strange men who keep asking her questions and touching her. These same men also don't seem to be allowing her to leave. She obviously has no idea what is going on so will you please. You're practically torturing her."

"We haven't done anything Dorian. We're trying," Lavellan said indignantly. "She's the one who literally came out of nowhere. Then, she woke up, saw us, and bolted."

"Nothing but berate her ceaselessly when I'm quite certain she doesn't know where she is," Dorian countered.

"How would you possibly know that?" Solas demanded. My dream. Did I actually call out to Solas? Her eyes widened.

Dorian huffed…loudly. "I'm sorry, was that a serious question? Look at her for Andraste's sake Solas!"

"I see an apostate who landed in the middle of my study unannounced," Solas responded, voice smooth. "We have no idea where she came from or why she is here. We all have questions."

"This coming from our resident apostate?" Dorian said. "Don't tell me the position is exclusive, Solas. We have to alert the rebel mages."

"Sparkler's right," Varric said. "I've seen scared and I've seen assassins. You can't fake that." He nodded his head towards her on the last word. As she looked at Varric's face, she could see the same genuine worry as before.

"Boss," Bull said. He was leaning against the far wall, near the door, arms crossed. "Even if she is an apostate, she's confused. Confused and scared. I really don't think she came here on purpose."

Lavellan sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She seemed to deflate with the action. Dorian removed his cloak and then she felt him carefully drape it around her shoulders. She looked into his face.

"Thank you," she whispered. Dorian smiled at her encouragingly.

"Boss," Iron Bull said again. "I think there's a couple empty rooms along the battlements. She could stay in there. Get some sleep, some air."

Lavellan looked at her again. She smiled a little at her—one corner of her lip lifting. Her face had softened "Yes," she said. "Dorian? Varric? Would you mind helping her there? I'll send for a healer for a sleeping draught." Lavellan stepped closer and she had to crane her neck to look at her face. She held out a hand. "I'm sorry for scaring you," she said. "I'm Sythari. Can I ask your name?"

She hesitated, opening and closing her mouth to test if she could make a sound. "Ash," she said and grasped his hand. He helped her up off the couch. Ash clutched Dorian's cloak to her body. It was lined with some sort of fur and smelled like cinnamon. Dorian wrapped an arm around her shoulders ever so carefully.

"Now then," he said. "A bed and some food will do wonders!" He started leading her towards the door outside, Varric following behind.

"You know, you're amazingly lucky our apostate hobo found you and not Cassandra," Dorian said as they climbed what was hopefully the last set of stone stairs. The feeling of eyes staring at her was making her even jumpier than she was. "That woman probably wouldn't take kindly to you considering. Well that and, she also has all the grace and tact of a bronto." Varric snorted.

"Don't let her hear you say that Sparkler," Varric said.

"I fully plan on keeping her on my good side," Dorian responded. "You know, between me and the not-so-friendly people with pointy sticks."

Ash smiled a little to herself. Her panic was thankfully starting to wane. She figured she had exhausted all adrenaline responses: Fight, flight, and freeze. It was being steadily replaced with exhaustion and slight despair. She sighed in relief when they stopped in front of a door. Dorian held it open for her with a flourish and she stepped gratefully inside. There was a bed, yes. But the rest was somewhat…destroyed. There were a few wooden beams scattered about and furniture to match.

"Well, this is abysmal," Dorian sighed. He and Varric set to moving the rubble to the walls to clear the floor a bit. Ash sat on the bed, not knowing what to do. She clutched the blanket to her tighter, shivering from the cold of the room. It was then that it dawned on her that she was in her pajamas. Thin plaid cotton pants and an oversized t-shirt, no bra. She blushed slightly from embarrassment. Dorian was moving pieces of wood into a pile which he then set on fire with a flick of his wrist. Ash got off the bed and moved closer to the warmth.

"Is that better?" Dorian asked, suddenly standing beside her. She looked at him and smiled slightly.

"Yes, thank you," she said. She hesitated a moment, but then sat down on the floor, holding her hands out to the fire. Dorian followed soon enough, as did Varric. Ash began to relax almost despite herself.

"So," Varric said. "Have any idea how you got here?"

"No," Ash said, looking at him. She sighed. "I—was sleeping, having a strange dream and when I woke up, I was here." She stopped herself from mentioning that this couldn't be possible and hugged her legs to herself.

"Do you know where here is?" Dorian asked.

She shook her head. She wanted to try and play it safe, for now. Not reveal that she knew anything. But, if she was pretending she wasn't from another world… "The Inquisition?" she asked tentatively.

Dorian grinned. "So you might not have hit your head that hard. That's good!"

She smiled a little, again. Dorian barely put any effort into it, but smiling around him was easy. She caught her eyelids drooping. Varric noticed.

"Well, I think me and Sparkles here should let you sleep," Varric said standing. "You look like you need it, kid."

Dorian stood and Ash did as well, began walking towards the bed. They said a brief goodbye and told her not to worry as she curled up and began to drift. She was so tired. She knew she should think, but her eyes were too heavy and none of her thoughts made sense at this point. After a while of struggling, her eyes finally closed completely and she let the peace that sleep brought wash through her.

Author note: Hello! (If you've made it this far). This is my first fanfic in a looonnnng time, so take it easy on me? I'm gonna take my time on this one, not quite sure what direction I'm headed. I'm entertaining either and eventual Cullen or eventual Iron Bull romance. Leaning towards Cullen, but I feel like I could write a better Iron Bull, if you catch my drift. I'm also thinking of possibly making Ash into the female Trevelyan, but only if I think it works. I don't want it to seem forced. Any thoughts on either of these issues are welcome!

I promise Ash will start being less wet blanket-y. I just wanted to capture what I thought was an accurate 'oh shit' response to landing suddenly in the world of Dragon Age. As much as we probably like to think it would be cool, it probably wouldn't. Ash just faces that reality.

I also figured that the others wouldn't feel too threatened by one crying girl, hence no extreme reaction. Also due to no Cassandra (luv her though).

I had a LOT of fun writing mother hen Dorian, let me know what you think.

Rate and review, please! And, thanks for reading.