I didn't choose to be born into the Alienage, anymore than I chose to be born an elf. I tried to do right by my parents, especially after my mother died. My mother chose to teach me the ways of thieving and my father decided to chose my future for me. I didn't object when he told me I'd been betrothed to a man I'd never met, it would make him happy if I wed where he chose.
My cousin chose to fight when the Arl's son came to take us away and the consequence of that choice led to her being violated. My husband-to-be chose to fight for us and died for it. I could not save either from their fate, but I chose to avenge them. I killed the Arl's son, knowing that there would be consequences beyond my control.
I did not choose to be conscripted into the Grey Wardens, again my future was chosen by another. I wondered if one day city elves might make their own choices, instead of our lives being shaped by humans.
When I first met you, you were arguing with a mage, despite my anxiety about joining the Grey Wardens and fighting my first battle, you made me smile. I had not met a human who could make me laugh before: Duncan was the first decent human being I'd met, but he was all business. You made me smile, it was a small candlelight in this world of darkness.
I was glad you were with me in the Wilds, I did not trust the other recruits. This seemed entirely a human affair, the only other elves I had seen were servants. What did I care for the battles of the human King when just growing up had been a struggle. My whole life I had to fight just to survive, just to earn the right to make a choice for myself.
I did not trust the swamp witches anymore than you did. My hand never left my dagger hilt the whole time we were there. Life has taught me that anyone doing you a favour has an ulterior motive, nobody does anything out of the goodness of their hearts. I hoped we'd never have to return.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid of the joining, your refusal to speak of it frightening me. But the choice was made for me, like everything else the world had to throw at me, I would endure it. When I woke up after drinking the fowl blood, the first thing I saw was you. I understood that despite our differences in gender, race, colour and creed, we were the same, united by this dark blood ritual. Why I felt this when I looked at you and not Duncan was not clear, but perhaps it was because Duncan was our leader, while you and I were as equals.
We fought together at Ostagar, and for a while, it seemed that we might die together there too. I do not know how we were saved, do not care to know. It was not something I chose and I do not wish to be obligated to a creature like Flemeth. But survive we did and now that we had been through that battle together we shared a bond.
You were understandably saddened by Duncan's death, he had been much more of a mentor and leader to you than he had ever been to me. I had not thought about humans' hurts before, in the Alienage they were the feared oppressor. Not someone you would call kinsman and friend. I did something then without thinking, I reached out to you and touched your shoulder. It might not have seemed like much, but I had never touched a human with kindness and sympathy before, never shared their pain like it was my own, never cared for one like a friend before.
The only sour note in this beginning of our friendship was, of course, Morrigan. She didn't care for either one of us and made that clear in her attitude and speech. I certainly didn't trust her, I was constantly chiding myself for trusting you, so I was certainly wary of a maleficar. I was sure she had her own reasons for travelling with us, sure there was some secret plot she and her mother had concocted. I kept an eye on her, lest she stick a dagger in my back.
In Lothering I became aware of the wealth of human suffering, before I had left the Alienage I did not think humans could be poor or destitute in the same way as elves, but now my eyes were open to the damage done by war and the Blight. This war was not one of my choosing, but it was in Lothering that I truly decided to fight.
As we journeyed together I slowly became aware of your eyes upon me, you looked to me as leader certainly, but you seemed to glance in my direction a little too often. It was not until we reached Redcliffe that you drew me aside for a private word. You told me that you were a bastard prince, the information alone meant nothing to me, it was the human King who allowed my people to live segregated and oppressed. I had met Callian before his death and thought him a fool, I did not think there was much resemblance between you. But the fact that you had chosen to tell me, that you trusted me enough to tell me, that was more important than your accident of birth. After all, you did not choose to be Maric's bastard any more than I chose to be born an elf.