She doesn't crave the power; being a Grey Warden gave her enough of that. She doesn't crave the adventure; not anymore. She doesn't crave the ability to flip the blades in her hand and slice off a darkspawn head; no the past is the past, but what she does crave is the feel of a blade slipping, not into darkspawn hide, but her own skin.
It's fucked up really, her ravenous appetite to feel a wound on her skin. She assumes its from all the fighting but the look of the many scars on her skin now became beautiful after her political mindfuck in Orzammar and the death of Harrowmont. (Behlen had promised soldiers but she didn't trust the sleeze in any way shape or form.) Alister calls her beautiful too. They may have not spoken it out loud but Alister's got this fuck up in his head too; maybe the others too, but they seem to be able to take all this wounding and killing and blood and death.
It doesn't surprise her, with Leliana and Zevran's assassin statues and Sten and Oghren's hard warrior personality's (even through she believes Oghren does have a problem with all this fighting but drowns it in his alcoholism, or maybe it's just his Branka grief). God forbid Morrigan, whom she will admit that had the advantage of Flemeth's burning hatred, didn't seem hurt when ever another person fell because of them.
She wondered if she had taken the death of her father and mother better, not shucking it off to the side for it to haunt her till the end of her days, would she be like that? Even the temple Guardian had hounded her, and the weird spirt that took the shape of her father had rebutted her: "There was nothing you could do" the spirt had said in so many words. She still shucked the thoughts away.
She nodded to a guard as they entered Redcliff castle through the courtyard. "Another battle scar I see," the guard put on light airs and she smiled.
"Wouldn't have it any other way," she replied.
The Bann greeted them but Isolde only glared, the death of her son Conner fresh on Arl's wife's mind. (There was no choice in her mind; Blood magic was not an option.) She pushed the pouch of ashes into the Bann's hands and stood back. He gave her a wary look but Alister backed her up. She though a dark : "I couldn't poison the Arl anymore than he is idiot" but keep her tongue. She stepped outside for a breathe of fresh air as the mage did his healing thing for the Arl. Alister came up beside her and ran his thumb down a new scar, still jutted on her skin and he smiled.
She returned it.