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Places to Call Home

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Fereldan summer never brought in the heat Seheron did - or even the kind of heat from the Free Marches. It was a slightly warmer spring, just less green.

Sometimes she pretended that the apple trees around their cottage were palm trees. Sometimes she’s afraid she’d forgotten what palm trees looked like. But soon as she closed her eyes and felt the breeze, she imagined it was from the sea. For a moment she could smell salty sea air and feel the glorious warmth of the sun.

But she’d be back in Ferelden soon as she opened her eyes. And it all seemed so far away, like a distant dream or perhaps a tale from a storybook. It often seemed like she experienced two childhoods that were separated by an ocean.

She couldn’t go back to Seheron, she knew that, especially not when the Qunari are threatening to start a war.

As tumultuous as it had been there, something in her chest makes her ache for the fruits with a tang, sand between her toes, and the sun kissing her skin. The way the native shems there was never hostile, sharing their food and teaching them their dances.

Her old clan name - Bahaghari.


So much has happened and it all seemed so far away. She often felt as if she took all the good things for granted, all the things that fell into place for her to be safe and alive where she was now.

She wouldn’t change anything.

But one day she dreamt she’d walk the shores of Seheron again with Tala. And this time, with Cullen by her side.