Fact of the matter was his being scared. This, he would not deny, not even to Lalin who had been standing there with a look in her eye that he never thought he’d see in a woman with such courage, a look that made him cringe in his own fault. He neither expected to see the fearless Jaden Tahal have such a look in his eye, not necessarily distress or panic, but a sort of reluctant gaze…as if he had regret to push Faer in joining the Grey Wardens and in all the years Faer had known his best friend, he had never known Jaden to be regretful. To turn the bravest people, the best fighters, the most talented skilled into what he was seeing before him now…he wasn’t sure if it was a power or if the Grey Wardens were a curse.
His choice, as it seemed, was predestined and, even if he didn’t agree, he didn’t believe there was anything he could do. Already, half of the recruits had been lying on the ground, their eyes haunting, their blood tormenting, their bodies agonizing. To think that he might be one of them was…too ominous.
Relief flushed over him when he saw that the two people he had been genuinely worried about survived and, at this thought, he was glad he hadn’t met or really conversed with any of the other Wardens. Signy, the dwarf whom he spoke with briefly managed to drink without passing out, but Jaden and Lalin hadn’t been so lucky and he thought, for a split second, that they had died when their bodies slumped ungracefully to the ground. His first reaction was to quickly go to them, but something in his feet kept him firmly planted where he was. Not even willing himself to moved proved fruitful as he stood there, watching them knock unconscious while waiting for what seemed like hours for some sort of confirmation that they were alive. She had managed to wake quickly and Faer had been impressed with her physical and mental capability. But he took a while to come through, still “sleeping” and Faer could only wait until he woke again. At least he was alive.
Before he could honestly react to all the death that was displayed in front of him -- as if it wanted to be glorified -- his name was called and he fought the urge to request death by a blade once again. Up until this point, the courage he had mustered at the beginning of the ritual was leaking out rapidly and now, as he took the large, almost ominous looking cup into his hands, he truthfully regretted becoming a Grey Warden recruit. He regretted his magic, he regretted going with Jaden to the shemlen camp, he regretted being the First and forced to leave his family, regretted pretty much every aspect of his life. And thus -- gathering the very last inch of his bravery, he swallowed the blood, immediately disliking the taste.