The faint breathing that was being released from my lungs was slowly fading into nothing as I ran as fast as I could through that tainted forest. I had been running for at least twelve hours, consistently, but I could not stop yet. Not until I crossed the border into Fereldan. Of course, I wouldn't be safe in the Blighted lands either, but my chances of surviving were significantly greater while I was far away from the Qunari.
With my people plaguing my thoughts like a persistent disease, I hadn't realized I crossed the border until my weak lungs forced me to halt. My breath came in sharp, ragged huffs; a feeling you can only compare to death. If I didn't stop to breathe, I'd die from lack of oxygen, an unworthy death of a Qunari.
Maker forbid and forgive me. I used magic to create a barrier around myself, that would block out any intruders by sending a wave of shock through their bodies when they came a little too close. You could never be too paranoid- especially when an army of Qunari were hunting you.
I took this painful time to examine myself- look for wounds, all that. My corset was ripped in several places, from all the thorn bushes I plundered through, most likely. One of the tears revealed the Triumvirate branded into my hipbone. Instinctively, I swore under my breath at the sight of the thing. It was a symbol that represented the Qunari's ownership of you. All Saarebas receive them, since the Elders think we need an extra reminder that we're sworn to the Qun and if we pull anything even remotely sketchy, they're going to kill us without trial and without hesitation.
A low growl escaped from my throat without my permission. If I could cut that Triumvirate branding off of my hipbone without screeching in pain, I would do it without a second thought. I know what you're thinking, but its more than just a tattoo. Its like the leash of a Mabari, but so much more than that.
My eyes scanned over the rest of my grey body, and only then did I realize that unlike my brethren, my skin tone had a bluish tint to it. Strange. My pants, much like my corset, was torn and ragged, exposing a large variety of scars and burns. As I sat reminiscing the cause of each individual scar to calm me down and still gasping for breath, an elf approached.
I was instantly on my defensive stance, ready to kill this pathetic creature if need be. Only then did I realize how much the Qunari had warped my mind, and at the time, I believed they were right about their views, just not in their motives. But something about the peculiar elf made me falter.
"Who are you?" I asked bluntly, earning a confused expression from the intruder. It was probably because of my heavy Qunari accent- I wouldn't had been surprised if he didn't understand me.
"I... I'm Fenarel. What's a Qunari doing here? This is Dalish territory, you know." he said uneasily.
I never had any experience with people outside of the Qun, so I had no idea how to speak to this man without offending or provoking him to try and kill me. Though he did not have his weapon drawn, I could tell he was feigning to unsheathe it. "I do not know." I said simply, thoroughly ashamed of myself. This is why I did not belong with the Qun. I was less than perfect at everything, and inexperienced with everything but how to cast a spell. That is not the way of the Qun. I was pathetic.
"You don't know what? What you're doing here, or that this is Dalish territory?" he retorted gently. Why was this creature being so soft with me? Nobody had ever used a tone so gentle with a Saarebas.
I shifted uncomfortably. I wanted more than anything for him to stop asking questions I couldn't answer with a straight response. "Both."
"Maybe... Maybe we can help you. You're not a shemlen, and you seem genuine... Bah! I don't know. I'll go get the Keeper. Wait here, if you will." At that, he departed, leaving me to ponder whether I should stay or go.
Antaam had always told me never to trust outsiders, so naturally, I was sketchy about the whole ordeal. But this could have been my only chance at surviving. I'd been told that elves are generally better than humans, but to me, they were all the same. Hideous, untrustworthy, pathetic little beings, just festering around with no goal and no motivation.
Before I had time to start running again, the elf returned with a very old woman accompanying him.
"Please, take down your barrier. We do not wish to hurt you." said the woman.
All of this was too strange. First, a clammy elf approaches me without fear and uses a gentle tone with me. A mage. A Qunari mage, nonetheless. Second, he offers me help. Antaam told me the Dalish did not welcome outsiders, and would sooner shove a sword through your gullet than offer you assistance. Third, this woman... this Keeper... tells me to put down my barrier.
No. I did not trust it. "I will not." I stated.
She heaved a sigh. "Very well, creature. I am Marethari, the Keeper of this clan of Dalish. I would first ask how you ended up here and what your intentions are."
"I will tell you nothing except that I am not here to harm you or your clan, nor did I know this was where you resided." I responded as calmly as I could.
"Fair enough, I suppose. Come with me, please." Though it was an order, she made it seem like a mere question. Naturally, it intrigued me, and I foolishly followed her to their camp, my barrier still going strong.
With Fenarel and Marethari in front of me, we passed through the clan step by step. Some of the other elves had expressions of shock implanted on their faces, others threatened, others terrified (as they should be). I did my best to ignore them. Eventually, we reached a tent, where Marethari instructed her clan member to leave us.
"You are of the Qunari?" she asked.
I could tell her that much, I supposed. "Yes."
"Are you a Vashoth?" she further inquired.
A curious woman. Dangerously curious. But it was only when she asked that question did I realize what I really was. The Qun now saw me as a pathetic verminous outcast, destined to die for her "treachery". I knew my life as a Qunari was over when that fact did not phase me in the slightest.
"Yes." I answered.
She bowed her head slightly, to acknowledge my answer while she pondered this thought. "By choice?" she continued, after a long silent moment filled with a lingering intensity.
"Yes." I replied once more.
"You are very brave, creature. Very brave indeed. I may have someone who can protect you from your former brethren, but he has yet to arrive." Her eyes held knowledge as her tone held experience. Intriguing, at the very least.
My gut told me this was not a trap. Besides, how could the Qun send word to the Fereldan elves so quickly? I supposed I wouldn't be able to survive anyhow, so it was worth a shot. Reluctantly and slowly, I disposed of the electric barrier guarding me, and abandoned my fighting stance.
"Why do you help me?" I asked, unable to resist.
I thought she would be offended by the abruptness, but she was not. "I know how strict your people are. I know what they do to mages like you. The Creators would smile on me if I helped you."
My defense returned. "You pity me?" I spat, suddenly deeply offended.
She remained calm and did not flinch. "No. I understand." Her lips curled into a surprisingly comforting smile.
"Who... is this man?" I said uneasily. I had no desire to discuss the Qun any longer, so if this woman was as wise as she seemed, she would understand and not question me about it further. I could only hope she'd be honest with me.
"He is a Grey Warden, defeaters of the Blight. I'm sure you've heard of them, yes?"
My brain started to hurt as I dug through my memories of Antaam's lessons. Grey Warden... Grey Warden... Ah. "Yes." Now, why was she suggesting this man to guard me?
"His name is Duncan. His order has three treaties- with the dwarves, Dalish elves, and humans. He can use these treaties to demand recruits if a Blight is to occur."
"So you want me to become a Grey Warden?" I said skeptically, cocking an eyebrow. I chose to ignore her last statement about an upcoming Blight.
"If you do not, he will ask for one of my clan. This clan is my family, and I would not want to see any of them leaving. Please, creature, help us." Her plead almost made me scowl at how desperate she looked.
Alas, Qunari are not Grey Wardens. There had never been a Grey Warden Qunari, so the chances of this Duncan fellow accepting me were low anyway. And if he did accept me, I supposed it would've been an honorable profession. Antaam said the Wardens were victorious heroes. But the fact that this could all be a trap didn't leave my mind.
"I will help you." I answered after a silent moment.
"Thank the Creators. And thank you, creature. Tell me, do you have a name?"
It seemed like this woman's intelligence only went skin-deep. If she knew as much about the Qun as I assumed she did upon first meeting her, she would know we do not receive names. Well, we do, but they're given to us by our parents, and we're taken away from them at birth. So, we never actually hear our name. But the Elders know our personal names to keep track of breeding, though they never tell us our name.
"Saarebas." I replied quietly. Uncertainly.
I remembered faintly the time where I was an Arvaarad at just five years old. The Arishok had given me the two daggers I had secured onto my belt, the daggers being named "Akun", meaning "balance" in Qunlat, and "Katara", meaning "die" in Qunlat. They were the only thing, besides the pesty tattoo on my hipbone, I had left of my origin. Thankfully, they let me keep the daggers once I became a Saarebas.
"That is your title, not your name. Do you truly not have one?" said the Keeper.
I shook my head. If I had a name, it was long lost and stained in the Qunari records book.
The woman before me heaved a quiet sigh. "Very well. We will call you Saarebas for the time being. Duncan should be arriving tomorrow. I will get my First to take you to a tent and allow you rest. I doubt it was a comfortable journey you had coming here."
I remained silent as she departed to catch her First. This woman was being suspiciously kind to me. Or maybe I was just paranoid. But risks cannot be taken when you're a Vashoth. Keeper Marethari returned in seconds, only this time, accompanied by another elf with black hair and big eyes.
"Aneth'ara. I'm Merrill. Come with me, please." she said in a pixie-like voice.
Hesitantly, I followed her into another vacant tent that housed three bed rolls and knapsacks full of food and other necessities.
"You know, we've never actually saw a female Qunari before. Your people are easy on the eye, though. I've always wanted to meet a Qunari." Merrill said nervously.
What did she take me for? My people were certainly not easy on the eye, and nobody would want to meet one of us. This woman was either very foolhardy or just a pureblood idiot. Either way, at least she wasn't giving me the evil eye like so many others of her clan. After bidding her farewell as quickly as I could, I fell into a deep slumber almost instantly. The sleep was filled with nightmares of the Arishok sentencing me to death, being caught by my brethren, everything that I was running from. Alas, I woke up the following morning almost fully rested, but my body ached all over from how much I had ran the previous day.
With stiff muscles and a pounding migraine, I groggily stood up. Judging by the way strands of white hair clouded my eyesight, it was time to redo my hair. Quickly as you please, I redid the French braid my hair usually possessed. It fell in long white tresses past my waist in waves that could make the ocean envious. It got annoying, really, but the women of the Qun were not permitted to cut their hair, claiming it suppresses their beauty.
Once I walked outside of my tent, I was instantly greeted by the elf from yesterday, Merrill, and the Keeper. They both had small smiles on their lips that made me nervous on three different levels. Marethari motioned for me to follow, and I obliged.
Eventually, we found our way to a small opening where a human with jet black hair pulled back in a tie resided. His eyes were the color of water, a rather gorgeous color that appealed to me. But it wasn't his eyes that grabbed my attention. It was his stature. Unlike any human I have seen, he held himself proudly. Honorably. Usually humans cower at the sight of a Qunari.
"This is Saarebas, Duncan. She is the recruit we offer you." informed the Keeper.
"And here I thought you were bluffing," the man chuckled. "Greetings, Qunari. I am Duncan." He held his hand out to me.
I stared at his hand, not knowing what to do with it. I cocked my head to the side and peered up at him. He laughed merrily and withdrew his hand, earning a raised eyebrow from me. "My apologies," he said.
"I am Saarebas." I replied conspicuously.
"Would you have us name you?" he asked kindly.
Humans were strange to me on so many levels. "You need not." I retorted, doing my best not to offend.
"Ah, very well," he said. "Let us go, then. We have much to do. Farewell, Keeper. May the Maker watch over you."
We didn't exchange any more pleasantries as we left the Dalish camp. Surprisingly, the Keeper, Merrill, and Fenarel, bid me farewell, but the others still looked at me with that same disgusted scowl. I kept my head down, but my eyes open. Everything around me remained a threat, and I was still more than paranoid.
If becoming a Grey Warden was really my fate, so shall it be.