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Description
Uldred and his bloody campaign were tearing apart Circle Tower. Esole Cousland had survived the Fade, outsmarted the demons when her companions could not see through them, and she'd fought her way up to the Harrowing Chamber where Uldred had been waiting for them.
She was exhausted. Sten failed to see it when she fought; Of all the 'female warriors' he'd met in Ferelden, he'd learned to trust her on the battlefield. He didn't think to watch her so closely when the abominations sprang out of the cold, stone floor and the Blood Mage launched his attack. Wynne was hurling her Arcane Spells. Shale crushed and stomped. Sten, with Asala, in his hands, saw nothing but red.
Then he heard the echo of a gasp.
It caught in her lungs. It spoke of crippling pain, of mortal wounds and defeat.
Sten felt his blood run cold. He whirled about in some sort of trance. He'd watched his men die at the hands of the Darkspawn near Lake Callenhad. He'd lost friends, brothers-in-arms before, many times over. But to see Esole, turning pale, ready to collapse... it forced on him a panic he'd never experienced.
"Kadan?" He breathed. This wasn't his voice; there was nothing soft and fear-stricken about the Sten, but it was from his own lips! She was starting to fall, so he snatched her out of the air in both arms. Her eyes had met his only for a moment, then they fluttered closed. He wanted to grab her by the arms, to shake her back to consciousness. Instead, he clutched her to his chest with the dull clunk of their armor as they collided. "M-mage!" He cried out, spinning about to find the old woman.
Wynne and Shale stopped dead at the sight of their fearless leader collapsed in the Qunari's strong arms. Shale had a fist heaved into the air, about to pound the last breath from Uldred's squishy body. Wynne just blinked. The crackle of violet Magic at the end of her staff blinked out.
"Help her," Sten commanded, and begged, with a tremble in his deep voice.
Wynne crossed to him at a job while Shale finished their battle for them. With the old woman's hand on his shoulder, Sten dropped to his knees. He set Esole on the ground with exaggerated care, though it went against every screaming instinct to let her go. His eyes, wider than they'd been, spun to Wynne as she started to mumble her healing spells.
"She... will recover?" The Qunari fumbled to regain control of his voice. He fought to make it steady and strong again. Wynne ignored him, pressing her glowing palm to the Grey Warden's fresh injuries. Esole's brow knit in pain.
"Of course," Wynne answered him at length. "She needs to rest. You should get her to the apprentice's quarters. I'll speak to Irving on her behalf."
"I could carry it, if it wishes," volunteered Shale. The gollum had always referred to her companions as 'it', which had never bothered Sten before. Now it did. He shook his head almost violently as he slipped his hands beneath Esole's back. He lifted her delicately into his arms, cradled her against his chest. Without thinking, he acted on the strangest impulse he'd ever known.
He pressed his lips to her temple.

Description
Uldred and his bloody campaign were tearing apart Circle Tower. Esole Cousland had survived the Fade, outsmarted the demons when her companions could not see through them, and she'd fought her way up to the Harrowing Chamber where Uldred had been waiting for them.
She was exhausted. Sten failed to see it when she fought; Of all the 'female warriors' he'd met in Ferelden, he'd learned to trust her on the battlefield. He didn't think to watch her so closely when the abominations sprang out of the cold, stone floor and the Blood Mage launched his attack. Wynne was hurling her Arcane Spells. Shale crushed and stomped. Sten, with Asala, in his hands, saw nothing but red.
Then he heard the echo of a gasp.
It caught in her lungs. It spoke of crippling pain, of mortal wounds and defeat.
Sten felt his blood run cold. He whirled about in some sort of trance. He'd watched his men die at the hands of the Darkspawn near Lake Callenhad. He'd lost friends, brothers-in-arms before, many times over. But to see Esole, turning pale, ready to collapse... it forced on him a panic he'd never experienced.
"Kadan?" He breathed. This wasn't his voice; there was nothing soft and fear-stricken about the Sten, but it was from his own lips! She was starting to fall, so he snatched her out of the air in both arms. Her eyes had met his only for a moment, then they fluttered closed. He wanted to grab her by the arms, to shake her back to consciousness. Instead, he clutched her to his chest with the dull clunk of their armor as they collided. "M-mage!" He cried out, spinning about to find the old woman.
Wynne and Shale stopped dead at the sight of their fearless leader collapsed in the Qunari's strong arms. Shale had a fist heaved into the air, about to pound the last breath from Uldred's squishy body. Wynne just blinked. The crackle of violet Magic at the end of her staff blinked out.
"Help her," Sten commanded, and begged, with a tremble in his deep voice.
Wynne crossed to him at a job while Shale finished their battle for them. With the old woman's hand on his shoulder, Sten dropped to his knees. He set Esole on the ground with exaggerated care, though it went against every screaming instinct to let her go. His eyes, wider than they'd been, spun to Wynne as she started to mumble her healing spells.
"She... will recover?" The Qunari fumbled to regain control of his voice. He fought to make it steady and strong again. Wynne ignored him, pressing her glowing palm to the Grey Warden's fresh injuries. Esole's brow knit in pain.
"Of course," Wynne answered him at length. "She needs to rest. You should get her to the apprentice's quarters. I'll speak to Irving on her behalf."
"I could carry it, if it wishes," volunteered Shale. The gollum had always referred to her companions as 'it', which had never bothered Sten before. Now it did. He shook his head almost violently as he slipped his hands beneath Esole's back. He lifted her delicately into his arms, cradled her against his chest. Without thinking, he acted on the strangest impulse he'd ever known.
He pressed his lips to her temple.