Chapter Text
Anne keeps trying to wake up even though she’s already awake. The walls of the Haven Chantry are familiar in the way the Eiffel Tower or the Great Wall of China are: recognizable through pictures, even through moving frames, but never experienced in person. She alternates between staring up at the stone ceiling and closing her eyes tightly, trying to force herself awake from this very real dream. But every time she opens her eyes, it becomes more real. She doesn’t want it to be real.
The smell is the distinct, overpowering fumes of incense, easily recognized by a lapsed Catholic such as herself. It is also far darker than she expected, even though it is the middle of the day. Torchlight is far dimmer than she could have imagined, and the lack of windows was incredibly.
“How are you feeling, my dear?” Mother Giselle asks, sitting at the edge of the bed. She looks more worn in person than she did in-game, with the crow's feet around her eyes being more distinct. She carries herself with an air of wisdom and kindness that is palpable.
“I- I don’t know how to answer that, Reverend Mother,” Anne responds, sitting up. There are too many emotions and there are none.
“Are you in any pain?”
“I think I’m okay physically,” Anne says, assessing her body for anything out of the ordinary. She still feels a little cold, but nothing seems to be physically wrong with her. One blessing in this nightmare.
“Do you remember your name?”
“My name is Anne Bauer.”
“Do you know what happened to you?” She asks.
“I don’t remember. The last thing I remember before waking up in the snow was going to sleep in my bed.” Anne replies honestly. No need to lie about the one thing she can tell the truth about without potentially changing the fate of the universe.
“And where is home?” Mother Giselle asks the first of many difficult questions.
“Home is… I don’t know where home is.”
“Ferelden? The Free Marches?” Mother Giselle offers.
Anne shakes her head, “I don’t know. I- I lived in the middle of nowhere by myself- it was three days ride to the nearest village.” The lies are filled with little truths from her life back home. Anne did live in the middle of nowhere, Pennsylvania, and it was a 30-minute drive to the nearest city.
“Hmm. Do you remember the name of that village?” Mother Giselle continues to press.
“I truly don’t remember, I’m so sorry. I- I think it was overrun by Darkspawn when I was still a teen?” Anne offers, feigning ignorance while heavily implying she was from one specific area.
“That sounds like Lothering.”
“Yes! Yes, that’s it.” Anne exclaims.
“Do you have any family we can contact?” Mother Giselle asks.
Family . Tears start to well up in Anne’s eyes, “All dead- I was the only one who didn’t catch the blight sickness. It’s still hard.” Of course, her real family is presumably alive in the world she came from. There is a chance that between then and now one or all of them could have died- there is always a chance- but it would be highly unlikely.
"I'm sorry, Anne." Mother Giselle says, moving closer to her. She gently reaches for her hand and gives it a comforting squeeze.
"I'm going to cry now." Anne tells her before breaking down into a sob. The emotions wrack her body in waves, causing her to shake violently. Mother Giselle keeps holding her hand, and uses her other hand to stabilize Anne so she doesn't collapse completely.
After a few minutes of this, the tears start to slow, and Anne is able to speak again.
"Better?"
"A bit, yeah. It's been a rough few years." And she isn't lying- her life on Earth had been a struggle. So many changes, so many deaths.
"It has. These are dark days, but the Herald of Andraste will prevail. She must."
"That is her cross to bear" Anne responds before she can stop herself. Christianity is so engrained where she's from that phrases like that never quite left her lexicon.
Mother Giselle does not comment on it.
"You must be starving by now. I'm going to go grab you something to eat. Will you be alright by yourself?"
"I'll be fine. Thank you Mother G- I'm not sure I got your name" Anne catches herself.
"Mother Giselle, my dear. May the Maker watch over you." And Anne is alone again.
"I am in quite the pickle, aren't I?" She asks herself aloud. She sighs and rubs the back of her neck.
Dreams made reality, but not the way I wanted. Not here, not now. I want to go back. I want to go home.
"Oh Jesus, Cole." Anne flinches. Another slip up.
"You know my name?" He asks, not even remotely concerned about what a "Jesus" is. He's standing directly in front of one of the torches.
"Yes, I know your name." Anne responds simply.
People pouring into a room, their faces bare. They're too close. I have to get out, I need to get out.
"Stop. I don't want you in my memories Cole. There's nothing that can fix them here."
"I could make you forget, the pain would go away if you forgot" Cole responds, fidgeting with his hands.
"I don't want to forget- I can't forget."
"Okay." And he disappears just as suddenly as he appeared.
She stares directly at the torchlight, mulling over the situation in her mind. It is not ideal. She does not even have the advantage of being the Inquisitor to help her. Nor does she have any real knowledge that could improve this world. Anne has a degree in political science from the United States. To say her skills are almost worthless here would be an understatement. If they don’t know already, she can at least introduce them to the concept of hand washing.
Most importantly, Anne does not want to change the outcome of events. She wants everything to go as it does in game, wanting her presence to affect as little as possible. This world was not meant for her.
Mother Giselle interrupts her thoughts with a bowl of stew.
“Here. It will help.” She hands the woman the bow and spoon.
Anne sniffs the stew and finds familiar scents- carrots and potatoes in some kind of beef-esq broth base. She takes a spoonful- the taste is what you would expect from a carrot, potato and beef stew. Earthy and a little bland.
“Thank you, Mother Giselle.” She says before continuing to eat.
The Mother does not leave her side until she has finished the entire bowl.
“I’m glad you still have your appetite. You need it to fully recover from the cold.”
“I think I’m almost there, thanks to you.” Anne responds with a slight smile.
“If you feel up to it, you can feel free to explore Haven. Although I would suggest you change into something more appropriate” Mother Giselle state, gesturing to a gown sitting on a chair in the corner.
Anne’s eyes grow wide and she glances down to see what she is wearing. She relaxes as she realizes it’s just her floral pajama set. She was concerned as she had a set where the word “juicy” was written across the back of the pajama shorts, and she really did not want to have to explain that to anyone here.
“Of course” Anne finally manages, “Thank you again, Mother Giselle.”
She nods and leaves the young woman to her thoughts.
Anne pulls off her pajamas and thinks about whether to toss them into a fire. They are the most prominent evidence that she’s from another world, as are her underwear. But she’s not getting rid of her underwear, at least not yet. She decides to fold them and tuck them away under her bed. Then she gets to work putting on the gown.
It is not incredibly confusing, at least not more so than the gown they give to people at the doctor’s office, but it is different. The material is rougher and less synthetic than the pajamas she had on. It is also much heavier.
She braces herself for what the world outside her room might look like, and pushes the door open.
xxxxx
The Chantry is quaint compared to the churches Anne is used to. The churches she went to were always filled with light, courtesy of the intricate stain glass windows representing various saints. And while the Chantry’s statues were bigger, those churches statues were more detailed and set on marble marble pedestals. It didn’t feel like any of the holy places Anne had been too, for better and for worse.
It was also far more populated than those churches at this time of day, which Anne assumed was early afternoon at the latest. Most of the churches she knew were devoid of people outside of mass and special events. But here- people were coming in and out of the Chantry door constantly. Some would linger near the pillars, others near the entrance to the war room.
Anne doesn’t make much of an effort to step away from her room until she spots Mother Giselle. She darts across the Chantry to greet her.
“Mother Giselle!”
“Glad to see your out of your room, Anne. Is there anything I can help you with?” She asks.
“I was actually going to ask you that.” Anne replies.
“Are you sure? If you still need more rest-”
“I’m sure.” Anne cuts her off.
“Very well. What skills do you have? I’m sure I could at least point you in the right direction.” Mother Giselle inquiries.
“Well, I can read and write in common.” Anne assumed she could read and write in common, since it appeared common was English.
“A useful skill, no doubt. Anything else?”
Anne thinks about the work she did in the real world, of the skills she developed through a screen, and can’t come up with anything that would be necessarily applicable. Except one thing.
“I have some basic contract knowledge.” Anne was, in her world, a paralegal.
Mother Giselle nods. “I think Ambassador Montilyet could make use of your skills. Her office is just around the corner.”
Josephine? Anne’s not sure she wants to work directly for any of the Inquisition’s Advisors. Though, she supposed, it was better than working for Leliana. “Thank you, Mother Giselle. I hope I can be of use to her.”
“Maker willing.” She affirms.
Anne knocks on the door to Josephine’s Office, wanting to be as respectful as possible.
“Come in.” Josephine calls from the other side of the door.
Josephine’s office is by far the most decorated room she’s seen so far. It is also the warmest.
“Lady Montilyet,” Anne says, bowing her head and curtseying, “It is a pleasure to meet you. Mother Giselle suggested you might need someone who has some contract knowledge.”
“I assure you that is not necessary, though it is appreciated. Mother Giselle is correct, I can use someone with contract knowledge.” Josephine responds.
“Thank you, Lady Montilyet. I am Anne Bauer of Ferelden.”
Recognition seems to dawn on Josephine’s face, which causes Anne some anxiety. Was Anne’s last name shared with that of a noble house?
“You were found in the snow outside, Haven, correct? I’m glad to see you are doing well.” Josephine comments, easing Anne’s mind.
“Yes. I don’t remember what happened, but I am grateful to the Inquisition for rescuing me. And I’d like to return the favor in any way I can.”
“Of course. I have a contract here that I’ve been meaning to review, if you’d like to take a look at it,” She gestures to a pile of paper on the far end of her desk, “Not one of our more important contracts, but it still deserves a review.”
Anne is a little surprised at how trusting Josephine seems to be about this kind of work. She tries to think of a reason why, and the name Leliana pops into mind. Anne pushes the thought aside, and takes the pile of paper, “I’ll see what I can do.”
The good news is that she can read common- she was right in surmising that common was English. The bad news is that whoever wrote this had garbage penmanship and an even worse understanding of how contracts work. It read more like a demand the Inquisition give this person an absurd amount of money because they said so in exchange for nothing, or else.
“Lady Montilyet-”
“You may call me Josephine if you prefer, Anne.”
“Josephine, this does not read like a contract. It reads more like the Bann of West Hill trying to extort us. There’s no consideration for any of the items he requires we give him, just a vague threat saying we’d regret not signing. Additionally, whoever wrote this spelled his name about three different ways throughout the contract.” Anne explains thoroughly, pointing with her finger the exact lines in which these instances occur.
“The Bann of West Hill is known to be rather… forceful in his dealings. I will send a polite letter declining his generous offer. You may toss the contract in the fire.” Josephine states, rather impressed with Anne.
Anne nods, wadding up the poor excuse for a contract and throwing it into the fire.
“Where did you learn to review contracts, Anne?”
“I taught myself. I was on my own for a while and did a lot of contracting work with various merchants to support myself. That required learning to read contracts, if only to make sure I didn’t accidentally sell myself into indentured servitude.” She lies. Anne learned about contracts in college, and she most certainly did not teach herself.
“Maybe I’ll give you some of our trade contracts, then, if that’s where most of your experience lies.” Josephine states.
“I’d like that.”
“That’s all I have for you today, Anne. Feel free to spend the rest of the afternoon getting acquainted with Haven.” Josephine says, politely waving Anne away.
Anne bows her head, “Thank you, Josephine.”
xxxx
Anne can’t sleep. She tosses and turns, unable to get comfortable. She’s able to doze off for an hour or two at a time, but it’s inconsistent at best. Restless, she puts on the boots Mother Giselle had gifted her and wraps her blanket around her shoulders, leaving her room. Her footsteps echo through the main chamber of The Chantry. They quicken as she heads for the main door. She places her hand on it, ready to push it open, but she stops herself. She can’t bring herself to leave. Anne isn’t ready to see what lies beyond these walls. She turns around with a sigh, and begins to pace back and forth throughout the Chantry.
She begins to sing.
“ Is this home?
Is this where I should learn to be happy?”
It starts as almost a whisper, with her footsteps still echoing louder than her voice. She weaves slowly between the pillars, letting her lefthand brush against them.
“ Never dreamed that a home could be dark and cold ”
The Haven Chantry, despite being full of light from numerous candles and other light fixtures, was cold. The churches Anne attended back home felt no different, though they at least had heating. Here, in this holy place, she could not feel more distant from God- from any form he may take, the one she used to believe in, the one these people believe in, and the one living in the cabin next to the Alchemist’s hut.
“ I was told every day in my childhood even when we grow old
Home should be where the heart is, never were words so true.
My hearts far, far away.
Home is too ”
Tears begin to roll down Anne’s cheek as she paces, and her voice quivers as she begins to sing at normal volume, battling her emotions.
“ Is this home?
Am I here for a day or forever? ”
It’s a valid question, one that feels impossible to answer. She doesn’t even know how she got here, what hope does she have at getting home? Her one possible hope is the one person in this world she would rather not confide in, would rather not have to be subject to his gaze.
“ Shut away from my world until who knows when.
Oh but then, as my life has been altered once, it can change again .”
The song provides reassurance she could not find within herself. She purposefully changes the lyrics to match her situation, as Belle was at least in the same reality as her village. Anne was not so fortunate, as her captor may be reality itself, not a Beast who needed to be taught compassion and empathy.
“ Build higher walls around me, change every lock and key.
Nothing lasts
Nothing holds all of me.
My hearts far, far away, home and free .”
Her voice carries throughout the Chantry. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, and heads back to her room. The tears continue to flow as she closes the door behind her, sliding down against it, no longer able to stand.
Once they stop, she crawls her way back into her bed, passing out from exhaustion.
She does not dream.