But that may not be me. Don't you understand? I have no one from Thedas who knows a woman called Robyn Cousland. I've only got my own word on it, and we've all seen how Wonderland can change that or invent new lives for us in an instant.

[ She'd believed him, not so long ago. That a happy future of having defeated the Archdemon and living happily ever after, like the stories of heroes and stories, with the person she'd had feelings for. Now... someone may be queen to Alistair Theirin's king, and it may even be someone with the name Cousland. But the evidence is mounting, more and more every day; it isn't her. ]

... He's been calling me that, you know. 'Cousland.' [ She begins softly, but there's some of the bite to the name that Alistair had used. Bitterness. Distaste. Both of which peak through the distant way she stares out ahead at the bottles, all line against the wall. ] Well, he did, but I told him off, and now, it's just... 'Warden.'

[ Is that any better? It's not even a name, anymore: just a title. There's a small, humorless laugh as she tightens her grasp around the empty glass. ]

What would you do if Dorian hadn't known you at all? [ Robyn asks, on a whisper, finally turning back to him. ] And then if he looked at you like -

[ Like he hated you. ]