We always see a confident character, someone who is strong and capable. Able to adapt and learn. What if we follow the path of someone who suffers from extreme anxiety? Depression? Harsh isn't a sufficient enough term to describe the situation Luna is in.

Could you guys do me a favor and let me know how I'm doing during this story? I, myself, suffer from a lot of the same things Luna does. So it makes it easier to portray. But any pointers and advice would be appreciated! This is a story I will be updating on the side. My main one that I'm working on is Note to Self: Don't Die. So once that one is done, I shall focus on this one. But in the meantime, I shall post when I can. :3

Fallacy

Wrong place. Wrong time.

Of course it would be on the day I decided to actually go out for a walk. Of course it would be but three days from my 23rd birthday. Of course.

It had been a nice clear evening, the sun setting and sending beautiful orange hues dancing across the sky. I inhaled the crisp autumn air as I enjoyed my peaceful walk in the middle of my small hometown. My ratty Converse slapped and crunched against the debilitated pavement.

I wasn't really well known in this town, because of my tendency toward avoiding people whenever humanly possible. I, for the most part, lived on possibly the most rundown side of town. Well, let's be honest here, this whole town was a wreck.

That's when it happened.

Have you ever had a firearm pointed at you? Now try imagining having one pointed at your face. Not a pleasant experience all around, one could imagine. It really wasn't.

"H-Hand I-it over!" The young man chattered, his words slowly registering in my panick-stricken mind. Everything seemed to slow down, my heart threatening to burst out of my chest. Me, not being the most socially competent person alive, had absolutely no idea how I was even supposed to react. What did he want? I had nothing!

The highschool-aged man, eyes sunken in and face pallid, continued to speak unintelligibly. Muttering, hands shaking, finger dangerously close to the trigger of the handgun.

Intimidated wasn't a sufficient enough term to describe what I felt at that moment. Terrified, maybe. Terrified was cutting it short, I couldn't even speak. My voice refused to work, body frozen. The only thing I could see was the end of that gun and my imminent death.

"N-No – t-that, I—" Was my fumbled attempt at telling him, 'No please, I don't have anything.'

And I really didn't.

Nothing ever worked out the way I intended.

Staring down a barrel of a gun was the last thing I remembered seeing, before the loud 'CRACK! CRACK!' echoed through the air. The sound resonated through my ears. Or, more specifically, my left ear.

Then the world shifted and tumbled. The orange hues in the sky seemed almost red, now. Red and ominous. Red and-

Screaming, yelling, fast-paced footsteps. Frantic talking, sirens. My vision was fuzzy, spotty, slowly beginning to dim. It felt like the area just below my breastbone was on fire. The pain laced down to my abdomen and shot into my legs. I—

'Of course.'

It was dark everywhere, my body felt weightless. Light as a feather as I scanned the darkened area. Like I was floating at the bottom of the ocean, long black hair fluttered around me in a halo. Up, down. Side to side. Nothing.

Then images. Like a slide-show, played before my very eyes. First was a scene with my daddy back when I was a youngling. I was seated in front of a television screen, fingers clicking on the controller repeatedly. Black unkempt hair draped in front of lifeless brown eyes as I turned to look at the man walking into the room. The darkened room highlighted the dark circles underneath younger me's eyes. The game on the screen blurred, making it impossible to see what I'd been playing at the time.

"All you do is sit around and play video games all day!" My dad's scolding words echoed through my head. A phrase I heard, even from mother. All throughout my life. Even though I worked hard to support myself and keep out of the way. Be less of a burden. Videogames an outlet. A way out of the real world.

Never good enough.

Then the scene shifted and I was staring up at my mother, body small and stunted. I was but 9 years old. My little hands were pulling at the ends of my hair anxiously, twisting and twitching.

"You take after your father." The taller woman sneered, hand splayed out and raised in the air. She was about to strike me when – the figure disappeared like smoke. It scattered into the empty blackness, my ears ringing.

Where am I? What was I doing? When—oh. I'd gotten shot and was likely bleeding out somewhere, right? Someone would eventually find me and call an ambulance. Right. I would live...

Right?

I wasn't dead, I couldn't be—

"When has anyone ever cared enough to help you? You're worthless." My own voice spat the words into my ear. Me. My self-doubt.

And I believed every word.

I half expected to wake up, realizing that it was all a vivid dream of some sort. I've had quite a few of those, in my time. Dreams tugging and tearing at my insides. Making me relive my biggest fears. The other half of me expected to blink out of existence. No heaven, no hell. I, after all, did not believe in those kinds of things.

But that was not the case.

Neither happened, in fact. My eyes cracked open and my pupils constricted painfully. The sunlight shot through the tall windows at my right, piercing into my eyes. I was then greeted with a vaulted stone ceiling, a cool breeze shifted passed my face. I felt my hair prickle against my cheek as I slowly processed everything.

My head was absolutely killing me.

"Fuahh... Uuugh." I breathed, urging myself into a seated position. Oddly enough, it only made things worse. Dizziness and nausea hit me like a truck, my stomach threatening to spew it's contents all over the red silk bedsheets spread across my legs.

"Lady Inquisitor, you mustn't overwork yourself ye-" The young woman's voice was cut off as I twitched and whirled in her direction, the world tilting and spinning as I did so. Even in the haze of my mind, I noticed how she flinched and stepped back. As if to give me space.

"Inq—what?" I slurred, voice sounding almost higher pitched than it usually did. Actually. It sounded nothing like my voice, at all. I squinted in her direction, her blurred features slowly coming into focus. Wide green eyes stared back. Fear and a little … concern?

She skittered forth, hands shaking but outstretched as she made a move to ease me back onto the bed. That's when I took notice to the room. Or, rather, how familiar the layout looked. Eyes flicked to and fro, frantically scanning the surrounding area. It was almost surreal, seeing it through my own eyes instead of-

Instead of-

"Inquisitor?" That title. My gaze zeroed in on the wisp of a woman that stood next to the oversized bed that I occupied.

Her freckled face had scars sweeping across, as if she'd gotten attacked by some sort of animal. But what stood out to me the most? The tapered ends of her ears. I tried not to stare. I really did. But I was gaping like an idiot, more like. She didn't seem to take offense.

If anything, she didn't seem to notice.

This wasn't real- Wasn't. It wasn't! I was breathing fast, then. Lungs constricted, unable to take in enough oxygen. Vision beginning to spot, the woman tried to speak again as she grabbed my shoulders to steady me.

I vomited.

I couldn't control it, really. The heaving hurt as it wracked my body relentlessly. Tears fell down my cheeks and I could faintly make out yelling. The maid was distressed. I was distressed. We practically fed off of one another. A crescendo of anxiety, threatening to burst like a balloon.

Her, because she was covered in my vomit. I was too panicked to feel bad, my mind elsewhere. Churning and screaming. A nightmare.

This was absolutely ridiculous! I was dreaming. This wasn't real. It really wasn't. This was like something out of a bad movie. Or, to be more specific, a fanfiction.

I was—I was.

I zeroed in on my hands, shaking and sweating. Chubby, calloused fingers gazed back and it felt like my stomach dropped through the bed and onto the cold stone floor.

I wasn't—

"Boss?" Heavy footfalls scraped on the stonework. The deep voice was familiar and when I looked up, that cinched it. That was it, that was- "I heard you yelling and... oh. That's nasty."

His eye flicked down at the mess I'd made on the side of the bed. My face blanched.

Seeing the massive burly form of the Qunari was the last thing I saw before I felt my eyes cross and world go dark.

He was much bigger in person.

—I wasn't me.

I was coming to, again. This time the voices sounded like they were behind glass. But the more I focused, the more I could decipher what it was they were saying.

"...there... all over the bed?" A deep voice asked, which was followed by some more murmuring.

I let out a tired sigh as my eyes opened for the second time, everything seemingly clearer. Though a bit …. stinky. Then it occurred to me that I had just vomited all over the poor maid woman. Then the feel of a soft, but wet, cloth being dragged across my arm seemed to heighten my senses.

I'm certain I mentioned my dislike for interacting with people. A hiss of air escaped my lips as I pulled away, the maid jumped as if frightened. Her unusually large green eyes scanned my face frantically before she stood up and grabbed something off of a nearby stand.

"A-Adan said to g-get you to drink this when you woke up." She held out a small clay cup, the contents unknown to me. The front of her outfit still had some gunk plastered onto it, but she continued. A woman on a mission. I would have taken it, had I not been occupied with my surroundings. Yet again.

I was left in confused silence as I stared at all that was the Inquisitor's bedroom from the videogame Dragon Age. What added to the climbing anxiety, which was almost crippling at that point, was the fact that I had two people staring at me. Judging. Probably silently wondering why I hadn't taken the offered cup? Self-consciousness gripped at my insides, only to be squashed the second I laid eyes on the Qunari.

Or, rather, Iron Bull. The Iron Bull.

My breath came out in pants as he stared down at me with his eye. Calculating, seeing through me. Though his face held a jovial smile. I—I wasn't sure if that was concern in his eye or suspicion. He just—he wouldn't stop staring at me. Why was he staring at me?

The cup was pressed against my lips and tipped. My shaking body didn't offer any resistance as I swallowed, then promptly gagged. The bitter liquid burned my throat and some of it spewed out of my nose in the process. It stung!

"W-What-" What was that?! It tasted like absolute garbage!

"That was a healing tonic." I grabbed the thing from the maid's hands and nodded, blatantly not looking up at the person that spoke. Iron Bull grunted, probably having realized this.

"What is y-your name?" I spoke softly, looking at the elven woman. She looked surprised for a moment before slumping her shoulders slightly. I, at the very least, wanted to know the name of the poor person I'd vomited on. Maybe I could make it up to her sometime.

"Aww, Boss. You don't remember Mika, here? She works tirelessly to keep your chambers clean and everything!" Iron Bull's statement had me wincing and I finally turned to look at him. Had I been ratted out already? Flushed out and discovered within but minutes of arriving here?

"S-Sorry." My voice was small, inaudible. Just a breath of air, really.

"Mind goin' to get Adan? She may have hit her head harder than we thought." He stated gruffly, pointing toward the staircase with his big thumb. The elven woman, Mika, nodded and scurried toward the staircase.

What would he do? Would he kill me? No, Mika had called me the Inquisitor. They needed the Inquisitor alive. By that logic, killing me would be bad. Doom to the world. I fidgeted in place, feeling the weight of his stare like an anchor on my shoulders. I wanted nothing more than to crawl underneath the bed and never come back out.

Hide. I wanted to hide. Please-

"Boss, you're not... looking too good." That didn't mean that he couldn't hurt me. He was Ben-Hassrath, after all. He probably knew how to hurt people in many ways and still keep them alive. Oh god oh god-. Movement in my peripheral. I noted how Bull seemed to step away from me. What? "Look, I don't want to end up like your maid did. If you're gonna puke-"

"W-W-Wha—I c-caa-" I stuttered, tears springing to my eyes yet again. Stupid! Calm down, you idiot.

"Alright alright, what's wrong this time?" A grumpy voice asked as the owner ascended the staircase. A bald head popped up and a bearded man stared me down before taking in the mess at my right. "Maker give me strength. There's a bucket for a reason, you know!"

"S-Sorry I-"

"Doesn't matter, now. What seems to be the problem? The girl is fine!" It was the resident healer, Adan. In all of his grumpy glory. On the game, I found his attitude almost amusing. Here? Aimed at me? I felt like a scolded puppy.

I wanted to go home, now. This was just a dream, right? So if I wished hard enough, maybe I would just wake up! I closed my eyes and concentrated. Concentrated on waking up. Being anywhere. Anywhere but here.

Then my hand pinched, like a cramp. My fingers seized and arm shook on it's own accord. The pain started dim, then the green light in my left palm erupted and crackled. That time I screamed, looking down in horror at the huge gash in my hand. It looked like a gash, why did it look like-

"Shiiiit." Bull sounded less than pleased.

The Anchor started to go erratic, green light pulsating and growing. Growing growing. My ears popped and it was like electricity climbing up my arm. Pin pricks, the jagged light biting into the skin and making the hairs rise.

"Stop it! S-Stop it!" I yelled, waving my arm and crawling backward. Back back. As if it would get me further away from the scary light. Green. But it was attached to my arm! To my arm!

My stomach dropped as I fell butt first onto the cold unforgiving floor. "Unf!"

"Calm down, you need to calm down." Bull informed as he took a step toward me. A step that registered as threatening. Something I needed to get away from. He was a huge man and I was having none of it. I stood up and bolted. Ran. Run run.

My body felt smaller and bulkier than usual, which threw me off balance. I stumbled passed the burly Qunari as he reached toward me, my hands scraping the floor as I hoisted myself back up. This only added to the adrenaline as I stumbled down the staircase. Out out. I needed out.

Part of me knew this place like the back of my hand. I'd gone through this place dozens of times. Nothing had changed, from what I knew, aside from the obvious size difference. Everything was so much bigger. The doors slammed open and the only sound I could register was the slapping of my bare feet on the floors. I think I might have even knocked someone over. Multiple someones.

It was like I had tunnel vision and the people dressed in frilly dresses and masks didn't even register on my peripheral. The gasps of horror and whispered words lost to me.

I was about to run out, into the upper courtyard. But I saw a huge group of people blocking the large door and my stomach dropped. The whispers seemed to disorient me and I knew, consciously, what they were saying. I could make it out, but none of it seemed to even register. I was like a frightened animal.

My body collided with the door to the rotunda, where I knew Solas resided. I needed to hide. Hide.

Thick stringy hair fell into my face, the blonde strands getting in my mouth and blocking my vision. The door whined as I threw it open and slammed it shut with a resounding, 'THUD'.

It seemed to echo through the empty room. I heaved in lungfuls of air as I entered. The only thing I was thinking of was where I could possibly hide. Hide and hope that it all went away. So distracted, in fact, that I did not notice the bald elf at my left. The man staring at me with distaste.

"What do you need?" I could practically feel the glare as he looked at me, only for his eyes to widen as he averted his gaze. The tips of his ears turned pink and his hands flew up to shield his eyes from... me?

I stood there in confusion. The room seemed only to get colder, the air shifting in places that I knew shouldn't be exposed. My mouth pinched into a frown, heartbeat refusing to slow. The door to the rotunda opened, heavy footsteps and clinking armor sounding through the room.

"Inquisitor, is something the matt—oh." Cassandra paused in the doorway for a few seconds before slowly pulling it shut behind her. "If you are going to be running about Skyhold, could you at least be decent?"

That's when I noticed I was in my underwear.

Ever have those dreams where you wake up somewhere, like maybe in school, and you're not wearing a thing? Sometimes you're naked. Sometimes you're in your underwear.

My gaze slowly lowered as I stared at my body, which was completely foreign to me. I wasn't supposed to be this short, this pale. I didn't have this many scars. I started shaking, mortified that I was standing there in only my underwear and some bandages.

Thoughts running a mile a minute, the gears were turning. I held my arms in front of my chest in a futile attempt to cover myself from Cassandra and Solas. The activity above having gone suspiciously silent.

If this was true. If this was what I thought it was, there was only one thing that I needed to know. I needed to know it, to decide just who I was. Which Inquisitor's body was I stuck in? I was, obviously, a dwarf. If the height difference was anything to go by.

The fact that I was even entertaining the idea. A ridiculous thought, really.

"W-What's my na-ame?" An odd question to ask, no doubt. This got them to double-take. Standing there in my skivvies, I ask the barest of questions. A question that I should know, right?

"Excuse me?" Any sign of disdain from Solas' voice seemingly gone. He only appeared taken back, at that.

"What is my na-ame?" I repeated, voice small and almost child-like.

"You cannot be serious. It isn't funny, playing games like this... Inquisitor?" Cassandra asked hesitantly, concern on her sharp features.

"W-What- p-please. J-Just." Just answer the question!

"Malika." It was Solas that spoke and I could have sworn that one word alone gave me chills. The only Inquisitor I didn't give a lot of time to create? No customized name? Because- Because- "Malika Cadash."

Because it was the Inquisitor I'd used to make all the bad decisions. My hands found their way into my hair as I yanked and pulled relentlessly. This wasn't happening. It wasn't. I crouched, head between my knees, and shook. Shook like a goddamn coward.

Of all the places to find myself stuck in – it was Thedas. Of all the Inquisitors to find myself trapped in – it was Malika. Malika, who was in it for personal gain. Malika who sacrificed the Chargers. Malika who had punched Solas. Malika, who everyone hated.

My thoughts came to a halt when the door to the rotunda flew open, once again. My wide eyes zeroed in on the burly form that waltzed in.

"Oi, have you seen the – Oh, hey Boss. Been lookin for-" He'd paused to look at me, not making any move to come any closer. But I didn't want him near me. Iron Bull was more intimidating, in person. Especially since he was so calculating underneath that exterior of his.

"G-Get back!" I thrust my left hand in their direction, wishing nothing but to put some distance between me and them. These people who should not even be real. These people who, obviously, didn't believe a word I was saying. It wasn't real. It wasn't real!

The mark crackled and lit up. They all froze in place, faces dropping. I could have sworn I saw the blood drain from Iron Bull's face.

They must have thought I was joking. Messing with their heads. Playing around.

Who wouldn't?

That's when the Anchor discharged. The sound akin to an electronic powering down, only amplified to an extent that made my eardrums pop. The ominous green glow reflected off of the their faces, making the horror quite evident, right before we were all sent careening backwards. I was knocked against the wall, head bouncing with a resounding

'CRACK!'

My ears were ringing like a gong, vibrating and throbbing incessantly. My vision wavered. I was on the ground. What happened? My hand clutched at the back of my head, where the pain originated. Warm liquid stuck to my palm and my eyes focused in on-

Frantic yelling followed and the sounds of distressed screams up in the library above. It pulled me back from the haze. Solas, Bull and Cassandra were in the process of standing back up on the other side of the room, obviously in the same predicament as I. Solas' desk and all of his painting supplies scattered about the room haphazardly.

Whatever I'd done had caused some major damage. I even saw some books from upstairs on the ground, as well. Birds squawked from the upper levels, black feathers fluttering down in front of us.

"Kaffas! What was that!?" A man cried after the screaming from upstairs had died down.

"That-" Solas brushed his pants off and turned to look at me, disapproval heavy in his eyes. "-was the Anchor."

First day and I was already off to a bad start. What's the worst that could happen?