Author's Note: I apologize for the perspective changes throughout the story, but I go by what suits the story best in terms of through-who's-eyes it should be seen by. I felt it appropriate to show this part of the story through Duncan's perspective so readers can have a better understanding of Isthalla through an outsider's view. This is also a very depressing chapter, since (I'm assuming) we already know what happens right after this.. At least that's how I felt when writing it haha. If it wasn't clear they are already at Ostagar and completed their quest in the Wilds.
I never knew what to expect of her. She was one of the rare cases I entered blindly, though not without some idea of what I could expect out of her. Her power was immense-though her temper was something I had not entirely accounted for. Perhaps that was my mistake; Irving had warned me, as had Greagoir. I believed there was a way to reach her yet, but something told me this was not her usual behavior.
"Have we settled in yet?" I stepped to the side of her by the campfire where she sat huddled, knees pulled in, and eyes wide and alert. She looked more like a frightened doe than the powerful mage I'd seen trying to take on the entire tower's militia to escape with her friends. She looked troubled as she stared down at her knees and shifted further away.
"Why even bother?" she muttered. I made a small noise in my throat and decided this was not a conversation that could be fixed standing up. I took a decisive seat beside her on a log and rested my elbows on my knees, clasping my hands together in a loose fashion. I looked down at her.
"What do you mean?" I tried. I had no intention of making her feel cornered or hostile. By what I had calculated, she was a very strong leader, like myself. She preferred to control conversations, especially. I did my best to offer her my neutral condolences. Her eyes flicked briefly to my hands, then back to the fire.
"You have no interest in my feelings, human," she muttered, hunkering down more into her arms. "So how about we save ourselves both the trouble of needless conversation and just get this Joining over with." A fighter as well, I could see. I cleared my throat and shifted more on my seat, carefully considering my words before I spoke. I decided she needed a subject change.
"I trust you are getting along all right with our other new recruits?" I tried again, casting a slightly hopeful look in her direction. I had hoped she would find more comfort in knowing she wasn't the only one - though I imagine the presence of the magi encampment so close to her own didn't help any. Perhaps it was why she decided to camp on the outskirts, away from everyone else.
I surveyed her surroundings-dark, bleak, and hidden. She felt vulnerable and afraid, though I knew she would never admit it. Her posture, hostile gaze, and white-knuckled fingers told me that much. I leaned back a foot to give her a little more space.
"You mean that band of miserable, ignorant boys?" she said rather spitefully after a pause. I felt surprised-I had at least expected her to get along with Alistair. He seemed like the kind she could easily get along with, as fierce as she was.
"Do you include Alistair in that assumption of yours?" I asked, feeling humor enter my voice. I suppose it was my mistake to believe she could get along with certain personalities. The fact was she intentionally chose not to befriend anyone, though I had a strong suspicion she had a natural hostility against humans based on how she had greeted me and many others since, especially if they were male. She seemed confused by my question, but soon her expression turned to a look of disdain as she sneered and looked to the side.
"Especially that one," she muttered. A long silence followed as I allowed her to decide what the next topic would be-if there were any. I did not feel pertinent to press the issue of winning her trust. Irving had pointed out that much - her trust was something slowly earned, not taken. Having her on the side of the Wardens would prove a great upper hand, indeed, but it would come in time. Irving had warned me not to dare rush her. I had no intention to press the matter; her history was fragile enough as it was without any external interference.
Delicate matters must be taken with delicate hands.
"I am sorry to hear that," I commented after I felt the pause appropriate enough. My hands unclasped as I stood to my feet and brushed off my seat of my robes. "I had hoped you could at least find one friend in the camp before we charged into battle. It tends to make things easier." She looked up.
"Easier to watch them die when the attack fails, you mean?" she laughed. It was a cruel and bitter laugh-full of a resentment I did not wish to delve into. I turned slowly to her, my brow troubled, and frowned.
"No, Isthalla," I said quietly, feeling a bit unsettled by her bitter outlook. This fight was entirely too soon-I had hoped she would be ready by now. "For support when you can find no hope to keep moving forward. Companionship can often inspire victory, and has turned the tide of battle before." She looked confused as she took in my words, her eyes turning back to the fire.
"But I am not saying you must make friends with your colleagues," I added, holding up my hand in explanation. Her eyes worried a bit less now. "Only that it helps," I added before turning to walk away. I heard shuffling behind me as she scrambled to her feet.
"W-Wait-"
I turned and found her hand half-raised in hesitation to her call. She retracted it back to her chest and seemed to ponder on her thoughts for a moment before looking back at me.
"W-What you did for me-" she started, then looked away when it felt too heavy. I turned fully to face her, my attention drawn by the abrupt sincerity in her voice. I rested my hand on the idle hilt of my belt and waited.
"No need to talk about it when you are not ready, Isthalla," I eased while nodding my head. She seemed to understand my invitation and nodded, taking a small step away. "In time," I added with a nod. My gaze flicked to hers, hardened but kind. "I understand."
"Thank you," she mumbled. I could tell this was in the realm of discomfort for her, and turned to face the main camp where the glow of scattered fire pits dotted the keep. I pressed my mouth together and sighed before turning back to face her.
"We should commence the Joining soon," I commented while trying in vain to spot the other recruits in camp. Isthalla seemed to catch my apprehension and stepped up beside me before crossing her arms.
"I shall go collect the others," she offered without giving me a chance to reply. I was, in truth, a little surprised she would offer her generosity at such a time, but saw it as a flickering sign of respect and nodded.
"Very well," I said. "Meet me by the archway when they are ready." I made a distinct point to let her know I had no doubts of her own ability to complete the Joining. She'd proven that much when retrieving the darkspawn vials of blood earlier that afternoon.
I had a feeling she did not need to prepare; the Harrowing was enough for any living being to go through. I knew she could handle it, even more so than the others at this point. She was ready.
She must be.
"Duncan-" her hand was on my arm, begging my attention. I turned, slightly surprised to find she was still lingering by the conference table. My eyes jumped to the others, who were already dispersing to their separate tents - Loghain and the King still argued amongst themselves while heading to Loghain's tent to prepare for battle. I turned back to Isthalla.
"Please," she hissed under her breath. "I don't need to be babysat by Alistair; let me go with you instead." I frowned and lightly removed her arm before stepping away. I turned to find Alistair walking up to me as well, and sighed. I had a creeping sensation this was going to turn out to be day-to-day struggle with these two.
"What do you mean, babysit?" he said incredulously while stepping up beside me as well, his mouth pulling into an indignant frown. Isthalla put one hand on her hip and jerked her head to him, looking entirely unimpressed.
"I don't blame him for wanting to make sure you need to be protected," she commented sourly before flipping back to look at me, her eyes full of fire. "Let him deal with the petty beacon. I want to fight; I'm not a child!"
It was truly the first time she had shown any sort of interest in my cause; I was flattered, to be honest, but I knew that would only be showing favor to her side, and I was not one to go against the King's orders. I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose, frustrated. They were less than a day's journey in and already they bickered like two siblings over a favorite toy.
"Asking me out of the company of our King does not change the answer, Isthalla," I answered plaintively. Alistair seemed pleased with this response, and crossed his arms while presenting a rather smug grin in her direction. Isthalla scoffed and smacked him on the arm, instantly dispersing the smirk with a shriek of anger.
"Did you see what she just did, Duncan?!" Alistair yelped. "That really hurt.." he added pitifully while rubbing his sore arm and frowning. I could already feel a headache forming; this was not something to be argued about right before battle.
"I wouldn't do it if you weren't such an ignorant, loud-mouthed child!" she snapped before turning back to me and lowering her tone. "Duncan, please-it's an insult and you know it. You know I am just as capable if not more than a dozen of these mindless idiots lumbering about camp."
I was a bit irritated to realize she had a very good point, though still defying authority. I was beginning to realize just what Irving meant by her 'stubborn attitude'. I kept my nose wedged between the flesh of my thumb and forefinger as they continued bickering among themselves.
"Oh what, so it's not an insult if I'm the one doing it?" Alistair shrieked. A scoff.
"Yes, that's pretty much my point!" she snapped back.
"That's completely unfair!"
"Not if it's true," she shot back. "When are you going to get it, Alabaster?" I removed my fingers from my nose and stared at them both.
"It's Alistair!" he shrieked back at her, gesturing wildly with his arms.
"I don't care! I don't like you, templar!" Isthalla snapped back. "At ALL!"
Truthfully, I should have seen it coming. The weight of her anger made sudden, painful sense as I recalled the events of the tower. Something personal had happened with that red-headed templar that caused her to stop mid-attack outside the basement entrance. I'd seen something change completely in her features when he entered the room, and it no doubt was the reason she failed to stop her friend from jumping in front of her. Though misplaced, her deeply-rooted fear and history with templars was no doubt the stem of this evil. I reached out and braced both hands on their shoulders before she could raise her fist and do any more damage.
"Both of you, calm your tempers. Now," I demanded. Isthalla fell quiet, her shoulders untensing under my grip as she took a reluctant step back.
"Now as much as I wish there had been more time to adjust you both to a new environment, the fact remains - we are on the edge of a war, and I cannot have you both bickering about your duties like children!"
Isthalla seemed to absorb my words much faster than Alistair, recoiling slightly in regret as she pulled a hand to her chest and flicked her eyes to the ground. Alistair seemed less aware of my point, and shrugged my hand off his shoulder before storming off.
"Just don't slow me down, mage," he mumbled to Isthalla while walking past. I watched him leave, my hand still on Isthalla's shoulder, and waited until he was out of earshot before turning my gaze back to Isthalla. She was staring hard at the ground, angry and full of an incomprehensible guilt. I squeezed her shoulder lightly.
"I know you are more than capable of fighting," I said quietly. "But I need you to work with Alistair. It is imperative that you cooperate with one another."
"Why?" she shot back at me. A blunt but effective question. My hand slipped from her shoulder as I straightened up and looked down at her.
She was defiant-full of a fire and fearlessness that Irving had warned me of continuously throughout my visit to the tower. I saw strength in it-the power to command and lead an army, even. She could lead the Wardens; I saw it in her eyes, in the defiance of her grip and the brimstone of her gaze. She could be their leader. I tensed my gaze and sighed.
"Because I need you to," I said honestly while replacing my hand, briefly, on her shoulder in earnest. She seemed affected by this, glancing once to her shoulder and back to me, then screwed up her expression before looking away and nodding.
"All right," she agreed after a hesitant pause. The fire left her eyes as she submitted to my request out of her own decision and, backing away, nodded again and followed after Alistair.
She had been through much - yet through her stubbornness I found a curious sense of judgment that sought justice. A trait of saving grace, I suppose. She deserved to hear praise for once, rather than countless disappointments I knew to be drilled into her head from so many years spent under the thumb of Greagoir's rule. I felt a bit of spite towards the man, and after what I had seen it only confirmed my truth. The magi deserved better than to be caged up like beasts, and Isthalla deserved better than that life.
By the time I resolved to my thoughts and looked up to find her, she was gone. I smiled faintly before heading myself over to the tents to prepare for the fight.
I would have to remember to thank her later once the battle was over.