Title: The Soldier and the Civilian
Author: Traxits
Rating: T (teen).
Word Count: 614 words.
PC: None.
Pairing: None.
Spoilers: Sten's personal quest, and City Elf Origins spoilers.
Summary: This is actually in response to a challenge posted on Lunaescence. "Write either one shots or drabbles with the following themes (as taken from the song 'This is War,' by 30 Seconds to Mars): the good, the evil; the soldier, the civilian; the martyr, the victim; the prophet, the messiah; the liar, the honest; the leader, the pariah." In this work, I've paired each of them up, designed to kind of play off of one another.

[[ ... The Soldier ... Sten ... ]]

Shok ebasit hissra. Struggle is an illusion.

Twenty six days. He drew a breath. He had been soulless now for twenty six days. Strange, but he didn't feel any different, besides the discomfort that came from his present state. No sword in his hand, in a cage that he had allowed himself to be put in, no food and only rainwater to drink. He blew out the breath, feeling his chest slowly relaxing with the motion.

Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. The tide rises, the tide falls, but the sea is changeless.

Soldiers had already come and gone; there were whispers of betrayal. The Grey Wardens had killed the king; the Blight was advancing. He needed to take care of this so that he could-

But he couldn't, could he? No matter what happened, he could not return home. He missed the sweet scents, the jasmine, the tea. He ached for Seheron, for the warmth and the salty breeze. Ferelden smelled of dogs and mud and filth. Its people were confusing, never happy with anything they had.

Maraas shokra. There is nothing to struggle against.

His hand clenched around a sword that wasn't there, he felt a tightness in his chest that had persisted for the past four weeks. Sunlight glinted off of something shiny, and he scowled as he raised his hand to prevent it from blinding him. Foolish humans, so loud-

Armor. More soldiers? His eyes narrowed, then widened for just a heartbeat as they approached his cage. No, there was something different about them, about two of them, at the very least. The whispers around them confirmed it. Wardens.

Anaan esaam Qun. Victory is in the Qun.

[[ ... The Civilian ... Shianni ... ]]

Blood was still in her mouth- the coppery tang sharp and sweet all at once- and as the hand struck her again, she couldn't stop the cry that escaped her. She was shuddering, sobbing, scratching and being hit all at once. The pain was unbearable. She was screaming, struggling, her arms ached from being held back, from the fingers digging so deep into her-

Then the weight was gone, and she was in the floor, sobbing and whispering and trying to find something; some measure of comfort in the world of pain and tears that she found herself in. They were all dead, slaughtered by her kin, her blood. Like dogs.

She stood in front of the mirror, studying herself, trying to see how much of it had been permanent. She was damaged, ruined, broken goods that couldn't be bartered for anything now. Not because of her virginity- that was never the problem. The problem was her. She couldn't stand to be touched, for someone to look at her for too long. She knew what they saw, knew they could see the blood and bruising that no amount of water or time could erase.

She could still feel the fingers in her arms, feel the sharp pain as she was destroyed, piece by piece. He had taken everything from her, everything that she had not been prepared to give. And now, now there was nothing left. Soris was in jail; Valendrian and Cyrion were gone, taken because of a plague that clearly wasn't real. No one was listening, not to her, not to Shianni. After all, no one trusted someone who had been so badly broken and battered-

She was yelling, and then someone was in front of her, defending her, protecting her. Her breath caught, her vision swam. Vaughan flashed before her eyes, and she barely caught herself before she stood her ground. Someone was trying to help; they weren't looking at her as though she were shattered or broken. She swallowed.