Once, twice, thrice, four times, five times.

Something felt out of place. Elissa couldn't put her finger on it, but something felt like it was missing. She had emptied her belongings so many times in the last hour only to immediately repack them, tear them apart again, and then repeat it all over.

Linen for any wounds that would waste Wynne's or Morrigan's energy. Check. Three rolls. That would be plenty. Water in case she had the chance to get a drink, but she doubted she would. She checked the cap's tightness every time she unpacked and repacked, and every time it was satisfactory. She had discarded her whetstone on two separate occasions, but had just readded it only to remove it now. They were cheap, and it's not like she would spend any time sharpening her sword during a battle.

She'd located an extra container of a healing salve and tucked it safely between two rolls of cloth along with her original. It was almost depleted. Elissa couldn't remember how many she'd bought just for herself, but then, they lasted a surprisingly long time, even for people constantly in battle. She supposed they had Wynne and Morrigan to thank for that, but it was mostly Wynne. The mage knew how to make rudimentary ones when they were too far from any apothecaries. Elissa preferred to save these proper ones for a real emergency.

It felt odd to remove extra clothes and food from her bag. She felt so much lighter, so free, and yet so wrong. Less weight meant she'd tire slower, but Elissa still had to think about repacking those very things she'd just removed.

Elissa shook her head at herself and got to her feet. No. She was wasting time. She was anxious and doing this wouldn't help her relax any. Neither would pacing, which was what she had been doing prior to the obsessive reorganizing, but it had to have been better.

After running a hand through her hair, Elissa decided to get dressed. They would be leaving within the hour. As soon as their scouts returned, the army would assemble and they would march.

She was restless.

It didn't feel real. How long had it been since she was woken in the middle of the night to Sam's angry barking? How long since Ostagar, since their Joining? How long had she been a Warden?

Elissa swallowed at the thought. This could've been over a year ago, but Loghain had to turn his back on King Cailan and the Grey Wardens. Even if they had lost, it had to have been better than this, right?

No, Elissa thought, running both hands down her face now. Having no army whatsoever wouldn't have been a better outcome.

She let out a puff of breath and sat solidly on the ground. Her eyes fell on the pile of neatly folded jackets and chain, and the leather plates and shield beside it. How long had she been such a neat freak?

No, she was a messy person. She just cared for certain things—they all had their place and if she didn't put them there it would drive her crazy.

Elissa stood back up almost as soon as she sat. Off came her boots and her sword, quickly replaced with thinner but firmer socks and her shirt of chainmail. Several holes larger than chinks dotted the garment, but it had been a while since they'd visited a blacksmith, and Elissa lacked the skill to fix such damage. She could've just gone and purchased a new shirt, or forgone it entirely, but...was it wrong to admit she had grown attached? This piece of armor had come with her all the way from Highever. It had protected her for over two years now and she was loathe to rid herself of it. There was even a blackened section on a shoulder from where the last dragon they'd fought caught her with a tuft of fire.

She had been lucky to escape that without any serious injury. She prayed it would remain that way, that she would wake up tomorrow morning perfectly fine and safe, knowing that the Archdemon was dead.

Riordan said it was his and Loghain's duty. They were the oldest—the taint wouldn't spare either for long.

Elissa still felt as if she wasn't lucky enough to escape this alive. She, out of all of them, was the most qualified to take that blow, wasn't she? She had little care for the Wardens, save that they saved her, and she wasn't a respected general in the Ferelden army or the one in line for the throne.

She swallowed and pushed the thoughts away, realizing she was standing in the middle of her tent, half dressed.

After securing her chainmail, Elissa crouched to put her boots back on. She tucked her pants into her socks to make tucking the trousers into the boots easier, and then twisted her feet a bit to free them enough that she was comfortable. It had been a science, getting that exactly right. If the tuck was too tight, turning or twisting at the ankle was awkward the first few times and could be just enough to throw her off in a fight. If her pants were too loose or not tucked in at all, the fabric could get caught on anything and that would be just as big an inconvenience.

Once she was satisfied, Elissa pulled her breastplate on. It was always difficult to get it on properly alone, but she managed, and then pulled the jacket on over top of it. It also sported its fair share of holes, tears, and stains. Most of it came from the darkspawn they found themselves encountering more and more after she'd received this. It was such fine craftsmanship that Elissa almost felt guilty wearing it into battle.

Rather than complain, however, Elissa simply fastened the clasp across her chest. That was where her armor varied from Aedan's and Alistair's—her jacket was designed to sit overtop of the chest piece. It was more of a half-shirt as it didn't cover the chest, but ended right above it. Theirs went under it so a larger and bulkier chestplate could be worn, and was actually a jacket. It was part of the reason she wore two shirts under her chainmail. It got fucking cold.

Then went her gloves, and finally, her vambrace. Elissa didn't wear one on her shield arm. It would make her arm too stiff, and even though that was technically the idea behind strapping the shield into place, it would, again, be uncomfortable. It was better to give her sword arm a little extra protection and forgo her other.

She messed with the collar of the jacket until the hood sat right, pulled her tassets over her knees and hips to sit on her waist, tightened that belt until it almost hurt, and then finished with her sword belt.

Maker, did it take forever to get ready. Her hands shook with every motion, and getting her breastplate on would've felt like an accomplishment had she not done it numerous times in the past.

Elissa still had the better part of an hour to kill, and boredom brought anxiety and fear. She double checked the bag on her hip, threw her shield onto her back, and decided a walk would help her clear her mind.

She wondered if this was how her father had felt before battle. She wondered if her mother had felt this dread, this overwhelming sense of anxiety. Elissa could feel it in her throat, constricting so tightly she could hardly breathe. She wondered how they managed to endure it. She wondered how anyone did.

Her eyes roamed over the various men and women wandering about. Only humans here. The elves and dwarves were content to separate themselves from the humans. The point was clear—they were here for themselves and their treaties, and if they hadn't been required, it was likely neither party would've come at all.

She wondered if they too felt this dread.

The faces she saw...it was clear the humans did. Almost every tent had been broken down with their owners milling around the neat stacks impatiently. The sounds of their footfalls was deafening. No words were being spoken in anything above a whisper, and no eyes lifted from the blackened dirt.

When they had travelled on this road before, it was green and full of life. Flowers bloomed away from the treeline, winding all the way up above her waist.

Now the road was the same uniform black as the rest of it. The darkspawn were a plague. Even the trees looked sick. No leaves on their branches, and no piles on the ground, having been blown away long ago by the wind.

Everything was gray. It was depressing.

If this was why people deserted, Elissa understood. This feeling threatened to suffocate her. Even the wind that blew ferociously through Ferelden on any other given day was silent now, and she found herself wishing she had that much to hold on to.

Elissa hadn't set out with a destination in mind. She had set out to distract herself, but she found herself before a pavilion regardless. Underneath stood Arl Eamon, Loghain, Queen Anora, Riordan, and her brother. The latter of the group looked paler and scruffier than usual, but he also seemed the least interested in their heated conversation, and when his eyes fell on her, Aedan beckoned her to join.

This felt...worse, somehow, than her walk. She didn't belong in this group of people. She was just Elissa, and these were the people that would decide Ferelden's fate should they defeat the Blight.

She dodged Eamon's shoulder before she even saw it turning into her, ducking so quickly that when she stood he was still in the middle of his shift.

"Ah," he said, surprised. "Good morning, my lady."

Elissa cringed as she joined Aedan. How many times had she truly spoken to the man? Twice? When was the last time she'd even been called that?

Aedan, who had one of his eyebrows raised in a silent question, said, "Good morning, sister."

Elissa just nodded her greeting and took a seat in the empty chair beside him. He had likely only just stood up from the seat himself, but Elissa decided she would claim it anyway. They'd been in the middle of some discussion, the five of them, and she didn't want to interrupt.

She listened idly at first, content to just be nosy, but after a few minutes, their arguments faded into the background. Elissa didn't even know what they were talking about. It had to be some strategem, something important that she might actually have been smart to listen to, but their voices were so far away, and she was so...

The world was melting. It fell apart before her very eyes, and was rebuilt just as quickly. She watched in confused horror as Aedan's face turned into a wooden plank, shrouded in darkness.

The despair she was feeling was replaced with fear, and before she truly understood what was happening, Elissa jolted herself back to the present with a simple clear of her throat.

"Did you have something to add?"

Elissa blinked, trying to get her eyes to focus and finding herself looking to Aedan. He was very much a person. Very much less...woody. She hadn't had the time to realize how much louder it had been there, with the wooden plank Aedan turned into, but Maker, was she glad for this peace now.

"W-what was that, I'm sorry?"

"We were talking about how to retake the city," Aedan said slowly.

"Yes, your brother volunteered to retake the market district while my father would take through the southern parts of Denerim," Anora added.

Elissa frowned, but shook her head. It was happening again. It was almost like a...a voice was dragging her away, but it wasn't even a drag. It was like...a plea?

Anora was melting this time, but before she turned into some object, Elissa stood abruptly.

"Sister?"

Elissa felt Aedan's hand wrap around her arm, but she pulled away. "I'm not feeling well. I'm sorry."

She watched the ground tremble as her foot fell, lurch so wildly she barely kept her footing, and suddenly the dirt was a sand-covered wooden floor. Her boots and feet were smaller, and again, her hands went from gloved to bare, tanned skin.

A strange sense of relief, and then Elissa jerked away. The camp came back into focus as her odd staggering returned to a walk. A sea of tents, of men and women, soldiers, and a foreign sense of relief.

This feeling wasn't hers. It wasn't the worried presence's in her head. It was new.

Elissa felt like she was being torn back to that boy. Even the elf seemed confused by this indescribable pull to him. Elissa didn't understand it. She was scared of it, whatever it was. The elf, both the one possessing her and the one she was fighting away, were scared of it, too.

How was she supposed to fight like this?

Again, she snapped herself back to reality. Her reality. Whatever that boy was experiencing...it was either a dream, or it was his own reality, but it wasn't hers. She wasn't him. She wasn't.

Elissa swallowed. What was happening to her? What was happening to any of them? What kind of sick magic was this?

"Hey."

Aedan's hand fell on her shoulder, trying to turn her, and Elissa jumped back. He jumped too, equally surprised by her reaction as she was by his appearance.

"Are you all right?" he asked. Concern riddled his features. He looked like their father when he made that face.

"I..." Elissa let the word, the syllable, hang, unsure of how to answer. She had tried to tell Leliana about this, but she'd said something wrong, and they'd fought. Elissa didn't even remember about what. Elissa could hardly remember the day before, or all the days before that. She could hardly recall much of anything at the moment.

"Yes," Elissa decided.

Aedan frowned. "Are...you sure? You've been acting...strange."

Elissa nodded. "We have a dragon to kill, do we not? I expect many people would be acting strangely in our position."

"Uh...sure, I suppose," Aedan agreed. He looked her over once, and over his shoulder, Elissa thought she saw fire. When she blinked, it was gone. The boy, that kid, what was his name? He was in danger. She could feel it. "You should, uh, get some rest and some food before we leave."

Elissa nodded again, squeezing her eyes shut as soon as he turned his back.

Behind her eyelids, green light exploded.