Sten stared suspiciously at the package in front of him.
"What is it?" he said skeptically.
"It's a present, Sten," Rowena said patiently, ducking out of the way as Sten swung his sword around to poke the packages with its hilt. "You give them to people."
"Why?" he said mistrustfully. "Are you trying to buy my complacency?"
"If only it were that easy," Alistair muttered.
Rowena ignored him. "Don't be silly, Sten—it's Satinalia! Everyone gets gifts on Satinalia!"
The Qunari frowned. "What is this Satinalia? Is it a disease?"
Everyone in the camp's jaws dropped. "You don't know what Satinalia is?" Wynne said in disbelief. "Sten, it's only the most important holiday in all of Thedas!"
"Not all of Thedas," he said calmly. "The Qun has no time for such drivel."
"Oh, but Sten, it is not drivel!" Leliana said, eyes wide. "Far from it! Satinalia is a time for being with your loved ones and letting them know how much you care! Oh, and also a time of shopping. Lots and lots of shopping." An excited grin had somehow crept upon her face.
Sten furrowed his brow. "You humans are a strange race," he said sternly. "Didn't we just save a castle from a possessed child? How is it that all you can think of are presents?"
"Disregarding the fact that I'm not human and really shouldn't be considered as such, I still think you aren't seeing the point, Sten," Eruestan said evenly. "Satinalia's all about appreciating the people in your life and showing them how much you care."
"Like I said, strange," he said.
Rowena sighed. "Look, Sten, you don't have to agree with us, but we still want to give you something."
"Why? I didn't buy anything for anyone else."
"That's not the point, Sten," Rowena said, closing her eyes. "We've all given each other our gifts—I mean, even Morrigan took hers…"
The witch laughed a little sadistically. "How could I not, when the object was so enticing? I believe I shall have quite a bit of fun this year."
Alistair turned a slight shade of green. "I still can't believe you gave her something like that," he murmured warily to Eruestan.
"Don't worry," the elf whispered back. "The charm'll wear off in a couple of days…besides, the worst she can do with it is make you vomit, and even that's only once an hour…"
His friend's coloring went a shade darker. "Maker, she's going to kill me, isn't she?"
Rowena cleared her throat and stared Sten straight in the eye. "Sten. Take. The. Present."
He leaned in slightly. "No."
"Sten, this cost a lot of gold! You can't just—hey! Where are you going? Sten!"
For the Qunari had walked out of the room, not bothering to look back.
Sten walked out of the doors of Redcliffe Castle. It felt nice to be by himself—these people were incredibly irrational.
He walked through the courtyard, completely ignoring the piles of burning corpses the castle guards were hastily trying to destroy. In between the heaves of the shovels, the soldiers cast uneasy glances at the eight-foot-tall giant stalking through their castle. He ignored them and continued walking.
Outside the castle gates, a group of people was walking across the bridge bearing a huge amount of food. They stopped warily as they saw Sten standing at the end.
He frowned. "What's this?"
One of the men up front stepped out timidly. "We're bringing food to the castle, for the holiday, ser."
More irrationality, Sten thought grimly. "Why? Don't you need the food as much as they do?"
"We reckon we're all in the same boat at this point, ser," a woman said simply. "People up there've been through enough in the past few days."
Sten frowned. "Why now? Why didn't you come two days ago?"
The people seemed confused. "Well, it's Satinalia, ser," someone said.
Sten scowled—more of this nonsense! These people wouldn't last five minutes under the Qun. His face set in stone, he began to plow his way through the crowd, completely oblivious to the squawks of horror echoing around him as hams and chickens plummeted off the bridge down to the chasm below.
Crossing the bridge, he began to make his way towards the village, dodging smiling couples and giggling children, his scowl becoming deeper and deeper with each step. Idiots, he thought bitterly. They were almost destroyed a few days ago—are they really so fickle?
As he entered the village, he was mildly interested to see that a huge column of smoke was pouring from the center square, away from the funeral pyres by the lakeside. To his disappointment, as he drew nearer he saw that it was only a massive bonfire.
Intrigued, he leaned against a nearby shop and watched as a small army of villagers hastily set up tables, tents, and a small dancing area. A group of men were slowly feeding the fire, tossing in wood and old chairs. To Sten's surprise, instead of begrudging the work, the people seemed to enjoy it. Everyone was laughing and joking—there wasn't an unhappy person in the place.
Confused, Sten sat down, ignoring the fact that he was in the middle of a snowdrift. These people had almost lost everything, and yet they were blatantly wasting everything they had for some pointless holiday! How was this possible? Was he missing something?
This tiny thought, one that had slipped into his psyche without any warning, opened a flood of questions in the Qunari's mind. Perhaps he was wrong? Maybe this holiday had a point after all. Maybe there was something more to it than he was seeing. Maybe there actually was something nice and meaningful outside of Par Vollen. For the first time in his life, Sten was struck with a forbidden thought—was it possible that the Qun wasn't right about everything?
Sten was frozen. Only the Tal'Vashoth could think like that. Excellent—now he had lost his sword AND his religion. Was he even a Qunari at this point?
Stuck in his identity crisis, Sten did not move for hours, instead sitting still as a statue while the festivities went on around him. Piles upon piles of food were served and devoured—huge flagons of ale were consumed, and the people began to get merrier and merrier. All around, pranks were pulled on unsuspecting people. A town fool was named Mayor for the day.
As the sun began to set, the villagers began to circle around the bonfire and dance, an act that normally would have made Sten scoff but now made him question himself even further.
It was during the dancing that a small child shyly approached the catatonic giant, head cocked to one side. "Mister, why are you all alone?"
Sten slowly turned his head towards the girl. "I…don't know," he admitted wondrously. "Why shouldn't I be?"
The girl's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Well…it's Satinalia…you can't be alone on Satinalia…doesn't your family want to be with you?"
Sten stopped and thought back to earlier. "Yes," he said, "they did."
"Then why aren't you with them, mister?" she asked, bemused.
"It's…complicated," he said. "I don't think I believe in Satinalia."
"What do you mean, you don't believe in Satinalia?" she laughed.
He looked up at her in annoyance. "It is against the Qun," he snapped. "The Qunari are meant to be practical at all times, and this is obviously not practical!"
She seemed to think for a minute. "Well, maybe the Qun's wrong about this," she said thoughtfully. "It can't be right about everything."
"Yes, it can!" Sten said angrily.
She frowned. "No, it can't—I mean, it's not right about Satinalia, is it?"
Sten let out a long breath. "No, it doesn't look like it." He looked back at the fire and the dancers and instantly thought back to his friends in the castle. "I should probably go back, shouldn't I?" he asked quietly. The girl nodded. He stood up, sending a cascade of snow tumbling down.
He cleared his throat, a little awkward. "Er…thank you," he muttered, embarrassed.
She shrugged. "You shouldn't have to be alone tonight," she said simply.
With that, she walked back to the bonfire and disappeared inside the circle.
Sten stepped into the dark antechamber silently, not wanting to disturb anyone. One of the doors was cracked open—through it, he could see the rest of his companions celebrating in the next room. Leliana was singing a lively Orlesian air that Eruestan, Rowena, and Alistair were dancing to—however, every now and then Alistair's arm would jerk out uncontrollably, and he'd shoot a nasty look at a gleefully cackling Morrigan. In the corner, Wynne was taste-testing about fifteen flagons of ale, which greatly impressed the dogs.
Sten moved forward to enter the room—however, a small package in the corner caught his eye. Picking it up, he saw his names scribbled across the top in large lettering. Suddenly very curious, he ripped off the paper and saw to his shock that a beautiful Qunari prayer book lay inside. Swallowing, he opened it and turned to one of his favorite sayings:
"Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra…" He stopped before the end, however, uncertain of whether he should continue. After all, it seemed that on this day, the Qun did have some things wrong after all.
There was a gasp from the other room. "Oh, no, Sten!" Rowena cried. "I wanted to see your face when you opened it!"
The Qunari rolled his eyes, and then (even to his surprise), he smiled. Shaking his head in wonder, the giant walked forward and stepped into the room, fully ready to participate in this most irrational of holidays.