It was a small thing, a little thing. At that she noted how these little things tended to comprise the greatest delights in the world – the joys long forgotten. The morning sunlight rebound from a golden armour, setting her on a wild chase to catch these rays onto her wings. On an impulse, she had gotten drawn into the careless game based on a chuckle earned by an eager appearance.
"It looks a form of a mating dance. If I didn't know any better, I would have surmised that His Majesty is being stalked by the local fauna."
"Always on the lookout for the Orlesian spies, Teyrn Loghain. Nothing escapes your notice."
"I wish to go over our devised strategy after the Grey Wardens have made their suggestions."
The dour look on the Teyrn's face reflected that he cared for the foreign interference regarding his battle plans even less than for the young man's stab at humour. He didn't seem to like these Wardens or the Orlesians or anyone else for that matter.
"By all means. I've assumed you have not sought me out to discuss insects."
The King's smile did not disappear while his mood diminished. He always maintained a welcoming appearance even when the conflicting parties united at Ostagar were hardly charitable in editing their comments as they expressed discontent.
Before disappearing inside the command tent, Teyrn fixed the dragonfly with a stern glare like it was in fact a spy coating their blades in poison and nursing a nefarious plan to assassinate the King. It was enough to prompt her into fleeing and settling into a crack atop of a stout pillar, doubting whether to go or to stay.
Day by day, discretely, she was observing the peculiar activities at the camp. These men had interesting rituals such as the evenings when the fires were lit and the Fereldens joined in circles to discuss latest news. Observing them as they laughed or bickered opened up and then filled a previously unknown void inside her. Sometimes the power of flames beaconed her closer. The surprise on their faces would have been quite amusing had she turned human in front of one of these fires, while in truth this would have caused panic and her death. With the enemy amassing, these people had much to fear to handle well a surprise. Inner strife was common as well. Ultimately, they all bowed to the necessity of working together as encouraged by their King.
Whether the others were sceptical of his beliefs or not, he remained the morale center that held the conflicting parties together. 'King Cailan told us to get along.' While some repeated this phrase with scepticism or even venom, this law was abided by. The King was the main man to set an example. When she first watched him ride at the head of the army across the realm, she dismissed his conviction in victory as naivety and desire to bring everyone together as vanity. After watching him handle a number of disputes with a few highly disgruntled allies when they lacked respect in addressing even the King, she realised there was far more to him than met the eye. Sure, he had inborn optimism and youthful enthusiasm, but he was also the King perfectly schooled in the art of diplomacy. Whenever the conversation grew too heated, he diverted it by opening up new venues for discussion. To insults, he responded with compliments, refusing to yield any weapon against him. Maybe because she doubted everything, she got drawn to the one who presented his beliefs with such an unshaken conviction. Fascinated, she followed him to the Ostagar tower and returned to the camp with the light of dawn every day to wait for him to appear. Her days only truly began with his smile.
In a moment of weakness she considered following the pair into the tent, knowing he would stay there for a while. The meetings with the general always took long. Teyrn was the only man capable of raising the King's anger enough for a shouting match. It stood ill to raise higher the suspicions of such a man. There were many rumours surrounding the wilds, the tales of the shapeshifters amidst them. Any suspicion would eventually prompt a search and the search whispers. The whispers had the power to expose her. The common folk normally expected a magician to turn into a large animal like a wolf or a giant spider, surely not into something as small as a dragonfly. The one who sought her was far more perceptive. The upbringing hadn't shed light onto Flemeth's motivations. In the moments of doubt she questioned whether the witch of the wilds had known all along and let her be for some unfathomable reason, watching the escapee like a failed experiment for a personal amusement. No. Had that been true, there had been too many opportunities to remind her that she could never truly be free, seek use of her by bartering with the morsels of an illusion. After all, who would think to look right on their doorstep for a being that desires above all to escape your power. The presence of these Fereldens upturned her carefully constructed world, arising a long dormant curiosity. It was a folly that prompted her to act so irresponsibly.
The dragonfly took off, intending to stay away from the camp for a couple of days until this incident was forgotten. She was growing hungry as well. While it was possible to sustain her life with mosquitoes in the animal form, she had the urge to cook a meal above the fire. More often did she turn to magic for safety until one day she was going to forget how to become human again and live out the insect's short life span without a purpose.
Staying away from the camp proved difficult and dissatisfactory. There was no hot meal waiting at the shelter. She had to content with a few dry fruit slices and biscuits gulped down with water. Starting the fire was too dangerous with dawkspawn prowling about. In spite of the battles with the Ferelden army their numbers grew, steadily corrupting the land. Inevitably, the day was approaching when it was going to become her home no more. Laying traps, picking off the isolate intruders was going to deal an insignificant damage to the horde while it would have raised their awareness of another presence in the woods, thus leaving her passive. What could she do against them? Even the King was powerless. More than once she was tempted to warn him about the danger. Yet, what good would that have done when he was determined to stand his ground no matter the cost. He would believe her though or at least wouldn't immediately reach for a weapon to execute her. No matter how different, this man allowed everyone to state their cause.
Again, her mind was venturing to the camp. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the cave to search for the stars. There were none. The rare glimpse of the clear weather as it was in the morning got replaced by a heavy sky. Not a pure red. It was the sickening hue of a mutated flesh where the giant fangs had sunk into the sky's throat and tore out a scar that bled and bled. The entire forest wilted, bent low to the ground like it was anticipating a mighty blow. And it came with a blood coiling howl of the war hounds trumping over the threatening roar of the charging darkspawn.
Even at a great distance, the anger of enemies tearing into each others' ranks caused an upheaval in the land's fabric. Birds and animals fled from its rage. She wanted to do the same, but instead went towards it. She got lost in the thick of the battle, a tiny dot amidst the rain of flaming arrows shot from the Ostagar walls, the stone debris as the trolls hurled giant boulders to decimate a bridge where stood the ballistae and the splattering blood.
Close to despair, she finally saw the King crushed in the clutches of an enraged troll. Across his face flashed greater pain from the crumbled dreams than that of the breaking bones. Cailan's body was tossed aside like a rag doll that got briefly forgotten in the heat of battle as the troll round to destroy a new powerful foe. Could it end like this? Life was quickly ebbing away from the King's shattered body.
This is when the small dragonfly broke the taboo of her entire existence... she... intervened...