Screams.
Children.
Mangled. Dead. Bleeding.
Maker help me.
I woke on the fringe of a weak sob, my heart pounding and body covered in sweat. I thought I was rid of these dreams. It seemed the tower was bound to follow me wherever I went.
That wasn't the tower, though, was it?
Her voice was malicious and delighted, and I hated to realize she was right. The dream was always the same, and always so frustratingly fragmented. I could never make out a clear timeline, but the emotions were more than enough. The flashes that were remembered were things I never dared repeat - not even to Irving. It was too gruesome and twisted of a place to ever consider describing to another.
Despite this, a fear still twisted in my gut that I repeatedly had this dream for a reason. The concept itself made me want to vomit - I could not imagine it being true. I didn't want it to be. And more so, why did I dream about it? I had never bothered to ask Jowan or any other mage in the tower what they dreamed about, but something told me it wasn't normal. She certainly agreed.
Yes, my foolish little elf.
Pry if you can.
I attempted to ignore her obnoxious cackling long enough to reacquaint myself to the waking world. At first my tent was nothing more than a shapeless black abyss, but as I blinked and squinted the world around me became less foggy. My parchment still lay scattered in one corner with inane scribblings marking their surface. My inkwell had tipped over and stained the grass, though not my robes thankfully. I glanced to the corner where my trunk sat open and clothing lay scattered about, and silently noted I should clean up tomorrow morning.
Too unsettled by my dreams, I decided sleep would not return for some time and rose to dress and exit my tent. I did my best to push her hissing voice to the back of my mind and focus on the distinct sound of a freshly stoked fire. Hopefully it wasn't Alistair or some other unwanted company at this dreadful hour.
As I rounded one of the other tents I was pleased to find Sten hunkered over a log in front of the blaze. Everyone else was asleep from the looks of it. He did not acknowledge me when I approached, which I didn't mind. I would rather have mild indifference than the aggravating over-concern of some others I knew in our little party.
I took a seat beside the tall Qunari creature and slumped over my knees. Sten was far past expecting my best posture and behavior after so much time in my company, though he always found it his duty to relay his disapproval whenever I chose or said something foolish. I was always relieved, however, that it was done for his own interest and not my own. Petty concern always annoyed me.
"You haven't been sleeping," he said after a few pausing seconds dragged by since my interruption. I sat up and sighed while trying to focus on the dancing flames of the fire.
"I am more than aware," I muttered, then corrected myself when I heard the venom in my tone. "Forgive me," I sighed, "Insomnia never sits well with my manners."
"Understandable," he nodded.
Sten did not press the issue, thankfully, though I felt suddenly compelled to share my concerns the longer I stared at the fire and noticed how misshapen it had become. Was the ground moving?
"Alistair told me becoming a Warden also meant taking on the responsibilities that came with it," I frowned.
"And what duties are those?" Sten inquired, knowing I would say them whether or not he asked. It was an unspoken courtesy.
"The more obvious being our ability to sense the darkspawn," I sighed, "he also mentioned nightmares - about the Archdemon, I believe."
"And are these the nightmares that are keeping you awake at night?"
"I don't believe so," I confessed. I slumped into my arms as my own words sunk into my mind and I realized, truly, that they had nothing to do with my Wardening.
"Then I believe you have answered your own question," Sten concluded, then resumed tending to the fresh fire. "Was that not what you intended by asking about the darkspawn dreams?" he added. I reluctantly nodded to assure him, and he accepted my silent answer.
Frustration began to build in my mind the longer I thought about it, bringing on another horrible headache I had no interest in having. I groaned and slumped back over my knees.
"What am I doing here, Sten?" I sighed. He turned to me, then looked out into the dark trees of the Brecilian Forest.
"We are employing the help of the Dalish for your treaties - to honor the pact of the Grey Wardens," he spoke quite clearly. It only frustrated me more.
"No, what am I doing?" I frowned then put my face into my hands.
"I do not understand the question, kadan," Sten said. I breathed in heavily through my nose and observed him from between my fingertips. An expanse of wild forestry and impossible mountains snaked into the midnight horizon and extended far past my reaching eyes. The world was so dark and open out here. At times it still frightened me.
"I don't know why Duncan picked me," I confessed while burrowing back into the safety of my arms. "I am the last creature in Thedas these people want defending them.
"The only reason I agreed to go was to save my life - I would have been killed were it not for Duncan's intervention," I recalled. My throat suddenly became dry as I remembered the event, and reminded myself that Duncan was dead.
It was your fault.
"That's over now though and I don't know what I'm doing anymore," I receded into my arms, suddenly guilty of my own thoughts. "Self-preservation came to mind, initially. Now…" I fell quiet and shook my head, overwhelmed. I crumpled my brow and frowned, forcibly aware of just how cowardly I sounded.
"Fear is a useless emotion," Sten rumbled from beside me. "If you have uncertainty about your task, then you should face it and not complain about it," he spoke quite simply. There was no disappointment to his tone - no righteous anger or bitter spite as would have colored any other of our companions' voices. What was relayed to me by the gray creature sitting alongside was simple and unadulterated truth.
Much of what he said made sense, and spoke a level of wisdom I wasn't sure if he intended or not. Though Sten never offered elaborate pep talks and excruciating heart-to-heart discussions as Wynne and Leliana often liked, he managed to communicate an entire debate's worth of honesty in a single statement. Despite this, I still felt that cold sickness in my stomach over the impossible thing in front of me - a thing I had never wanted.
"Can I ask you something, Sten?" I spoke up after a reasonable pause settled between his last words and my own. He nodded, wordlessly, and glanced my way out of respect to acknowledge our conversation. I breathed in.
"Am I a good leader?"
The question hung thick in the air after I had spoken it, and a part of me wished I hadn't asked. I knew I wasn't a leader, if only because I didn't want it in the first place. Every day I resented having to wake up and continue a journey forced on to my lap, and every day I cursed Duncan for leaving me and ensuring my continuation through guilt alone. Every night I fell apart wishing someone else had been given the banner long ago, because I knew in the end the entirety of Thedas would burn because of me.
Though it took Sten a moment to decide on his answer, I could see the word forming on his mouth before he even considered it.
"No," he began, then once connected his gaze to mine with stern reaffirmation. "However, I believed the same after the first day you released me in Lothering. I did not believe we would survive Redcliffe or manage to save Eamon's son. I also did not think you were capable of surviving your tower with your mind in-tact, yet you have proven yourself competent many times despite your disadvantage."
I perked and raised my head, a slight grin betraying my mouth.
"Is this because I'm an elf?" I asked, curious over Sten's disposition towards my kind. He had never shown interest, though I sensed a slight disdain towards others who did not follow the Qun as faithfully as his own. Perhaps despise was too strong of a word to describe, or that I was simply reading him wrong.
He looked mildly confused for a moment before responding, as if it should have been obvious. Frowning, he looked at me and spoke quite sincerely.
"It is because you are a woman," he corrected. Strangely, I did not take the statement conceitedly. Rather than annoyance, I surged with curiosity. I tilted my head and rested my chin on my hand.
"Why do you believe that?"
"Women are priests, artisans, shopkeepers, or farmers - they don't fight," he retorted.
"Is that what you were taught to believe by the Qunari?" I asked, curious. He looked perplexed for a moment before drawing his eyes away, as if confronted by a conflicting truth.
"No-" he paused, then huffed in frustration. "A person is born, kossith or elven or human or dwarf. They do not choose this. The size of your hands, whether we are clever or foolish, the land we come from, the color of our hair - these are beyond our control." He paused, then looked at me again. "We do not choose, we simply are."
"That may be true," I agreed with a curt nod of my head. I turned my hand over and surveyed it under the firelight - calloused fingertips from unaccustomed labor, dirt smudges from the ground, and a few new cuts from some minor issues with Morrigan's pet wolf, Luther. My skin was pale white under the glow. I glanced at the thin, tell-tale cuts across my left palm and quickly clenched my hands shut.
"I did not choose to be a mage, I was born this way," I quieted while running my fingertips over the length of my forearm. "Just as I never asked to be an elf - two things that are often looked down upon in this world." The words felt bitter and sharp on my tongue, and quickly swallowed up in my tensing throat. I felt embarrassed to hear myself say such things, though Sten would not understand the shame.
"I have no control over what made me," I continued, "but I can change how I am perceived through my actions." I turned away and looked back at my hands, now admiring my fingertips. "Not that I've ever really sought approval from my company," I smiled, slow and weakened, "save for a certain few."
"You speak of your guardian from the tower," Sten said.
"Yes," I nodded. "He is a very admirable man," I decided with a slight frown. "He is what every man or woman should be that wears such armor."
"Do you admire him only for his resistance to the Fade?" he asked me.
I tilted my head and imaged Cullen's face in the fire, and wondered briefly if he ever thought about me. The idea that he had forgotten me burrowed in my heart like a thorn.
"No, he is also very kind. He was always very patient with me…" I frowned deeply and creased my brow. "I believe if even a few of the other templars had exercised his level of judgment, then the tower might have been saved.
"If they weren't all such cowards..." I muttered under my breath, my mind drifting back to Greagoir hiding out in the foyer like a frightened child. I breathed out and shut my eyes, letting the anger leave me. "If I had only gotten there sooner," I finished.
A dark cloud drifted through my mind, then dissipated as I watched the world around me come back into focus. I sucked in a sharp breath and sat up straight, running a quick hand through my hair.
"Well, I didn't mean to run away with that conversation," I lightened up. "But anyway-" I pulled my hair back, then let it down when I decided it was too short to tie back. "I suppose my point is not everyone follows the same customs as your people," I shrugged.
"If that were the case," I continued, "then I should believe every hard-assed male in Thedas is a templar and any man or woman with half a brain and sense of humor should be a mage," I smiled. Sten did not easily get the joke, though I supposed he grasped it nonetheless.
"You are a very strange creature, Isthalla," he finally decided with a shake of his head. "I do not know what to make of you. Perhaps this is a quality of Grey Warden I had not heard about," he finished with a faint smile.
"Or that I simply chose to be this way," I corrected with a tilt of my head while standing to my feet. I brushed off the seat of my robes and breathed in the crisp night air. A slight puff of white exited my lips, noting the approach of mountain frost. I bared my Qunari companion a wide grin.
"Perhaps," Sten elected. "We will see."