Dragon Age: Chains of the Past

Chapter 2: The Weight Of The Chains

The weeks passed in a monotonous blur of labor and exhaustion. Adaia's days began before dawn and ended long after the sun had set. The rhythm of her new life was dictated by the whims of Lady Marian of House Gaulden, a woman as cold and unyielding as the stone walls of her estate.

From the moment Adaia awoke, she was thrust into a whirlwind of tasks. She cleaned Lady Marian's chambers, polished the silver, tended to the gardens, and performed countless other duties, all under the watchful eye of the ever-demanding noblewoman. Each task was a test of her endurance, and any misstep was met with harsh reprimand or punishment.

Lady Marian was a tall, imposing figure with a sharp, angular face and piercing green eyes that seemed to see through Adaia's every facade. Her presence filled the room, leaving little space for Adaia to breathe. She spoke in clipped, icy tones, her words laced with a perpetual undercurrent of disdain.

"Adaia, you useless elf! Have you no sense of propriety?" Lady Marian's voice rang out, cold and sharp, as Adaia hurried to set the table for the evening meal. "The silverware is not polished to my standards. Do it again!"

Adaia suppressed a sigh and quickly moved to rectify her mistake. She had learned early on that Lady Marian's standards were impossibly high and that there was no point in arguing or explaining. Her only option was to comply and hope to avoid the noblewoman's wrath."Yes, my lady," Adaia said, her voice steady as she picked up the offending cutlery and began polishing it anew.

Lady Marian watched her with narrowed eyes, her lips curling into a sneer. "You Dalish are all the same. So proud, yet so easily broken. I wonder how long it will take before you realize your place."

Adaia bit back a retort, her heart pounding with anger and humiliation. She knew that any display of defiance would only make things worse. Instead, she focused on her task, letting the repetitive motion of polishing the silverware soothe her frayed nerves.

The noblewoman's cruelty was not limited to words. She often found ways to inflict physical pain as well. One evening, as Adaia was helping Lady Marian into her evening gown, she accidentally pricked the noblewoman's skin with a pin.

"Clumsy fool!" Lady Marian hissed, her hand striking Adaia's cheek with a sharp slap. "You will pay for that."

The pain stung, but Adaia kept her expression neutral, refusing to give Lady Marian the satisfaction of seeing her cry out. The noblewoman's eyes glittered with malicious glee as she ordered Adaia to kneel and hold the pin outstretched in her hand for what felt like an eternity. By the time Lady Marian finally allowed her to move, Adaia's arm was trembling with fatigue, and her knees ached from the cold stone floor.

Despite the constant abuse, Adaia found small moments of solace in her work. She took pride in the few tasks she could perform to perfection, using her skills as a herbalist to tend to the estate's gardens. The plants, at least, did not judge her or treat her with cruelty. They grew and flourished under her care, a silent testament to her enduring spirit.

One day, as Adaia was tending to a patch of lavender, she overheard a conversation between Lady Marian and another noblewoman, Lady Evelyn. The two were seated on a nearby terrace, sipping tea and discussing their latest schemes.