CCP: Oh hellooo I am here with… another fanfic. I'm not quite sure how I will pursue this, but I will try my best. My warden's name is Heather Cousland and is a noble warrior. Trying this perspective and I hope everything turns out right.

Ch. 1 - Sweet Reverie

I dreamt of something wonderful. I saw a cheeky adolescent with curly chocolate brown hair that was adorned with shy white flowers. She was in her light blue evening gown I assumed her handmaid helped her put on. The dress was too long for her, but that didn't stop her from running. Laughing, the child with the red cheeks and blue eyes ran behind her father as her brother chased after her with a frog in his hands.

Their mother, who was standing nearby, laughed jovially as her facetious husband scorned, "You mustn't run around in the presence of guests!"

The brother stopped, breathing heavily with a broad smile as the father lifted up his daughter. She giggled as he kissed her on the cheek. I touched my cheek as I felt a sensation graze my skin.

I watched with a muted breath as, staid eyes watching as the colors and hues before me transformed into something else in an instant. There was a young lady with an innate beauty, her hair as brown as oak, dancing gaily with ostentatious men in an opulent and ornate ballroom. She stopped by the side to hear a man's florid confession after he kissed her hand. The young woman laughed but when she spoke, there were no words. I rubbed my hand.

There was that girl again, running in the courtyard to a rendezvous underneath a large birch tree to write and draw on her secret notepad. There she was again, brandishing a sword before her trainer. Once again, that same girl was dancing in her room in her undergarments as her mabari frenetically ran around her. The sound of laughter was like a chime, sweet and harmonic. It surfaced feelings and sensation so familiar- it was as if I had seen this before. Before I could figure it out, I heard a continuous sound that was similar to the sound of rocks being crushed. It had a rough edge and was grinding with crescendo. Then I asked myself, Where am I?

I wearily opened my eyes. It stung so much that I had to free my hands from the cloak that was warming my body. I rubbed it before I came to my senses. I was in a half empty wooden wagon with its brusque wheels gyrating over the rocky road as the horses trotted, steered by an unknown man. Still under the residue of the sleep spell, I temporarily suffered from a headache that pinched the nerves on my neck.

After I squeezed my eyes shut to redeem myself, I realized how swollen my eyes were. Thereafter, I remembered that I wept myself to sleep last night… I do not know the approximate time I fell asleep, but I do remember whimpering before I was led into the asylum of slumber. It was no wonder why I felt weak and tired that early morning, so much that I had to drag myself just to move a few inches forward. There I was upfront, where I saw the retreating vista, a tapering road, and a never-ending and fields of a quiet green, resplendent with little sleeping buds of color.

I sat there and stared with half-swollen eyes as I contemplated on whether this was reality's true form or a blunt ruse. I was dreaming… of me, or rather, of what I used to be. Nothing more than a lucid dream.

There I sat, with nothing but the clothes on my back and skin on my flesh. There were no flowers in my hair. I was not wearing an extravagant evening gown. In addition, I had not the slightest hint of a smile or any form of joy. I knew nothing of religion, prudence… or anything. I was not capable of coherent thought or reasoning.

All I could do was gaze at the distant and surreal scenery. Behind the mountains was the wake of dawn. The orange rays stretched over the clouds after its wake as the day was conceived.

I recoiled back into the darkness of the wagon after the sunlight burnt my eyes. My movements earned the driver's attention, who I then recalled to be Duncan, the man who… had saved me.

"You've been awake for some time now. Are you alright?" He stated calmly without even giving me a glance.

His voice was solid with equanimity, a tone reminiscent to my father. I used all of my strength to make a smile to that comparison, even though I knew the back of his head couldn't smile back. His inquiry hardly made me feel any better.

From my throat, I squeezed out a soft and dying voice, "Yes…"

He turned his head slightly, his dark gray eyes glancing at me peripherally. I froze in place until he looked away. I must have looked pitiful to him in rags with an ugly, sullen face as I was half sprawled on the wagon like a beggar.

I, a Cousland who basked in fortune and happiness, became a Cousland who basked in the glory of nothing itself. Optimistically, I told myself that I have the merit of surviving, which then made me bury my face on my knees.

"Stay strong, child. What happened had happened. Even the Maker cannot rewrite the past for what it is now."

There was sincerity in his voice and it felt it creep up my spine. He was the first person to give me any sort of condolence yet I did not feel like complying. Instead, I remained quiet and stared at the scenery again. I began to wonder what I had done wrong. Did I not pray enough? Was I an officious daughter?

Ridiculous. I prayed every morning, noon, and evening. I tried my best to always be amenable towards my parents; I did everything they wanted. To be the best daughter. To be the ideal wife. The best and perfect daughter they could have ever wanted.

Why, I didn't even complain when my mother asked me to dance with a noble twice my age! I did what I had to do. But why a retribution? What have I done, I asked myself. Killing my family must be no benignant reward. The Maker was being cruel to me.

In efforts to be optimistic, I came to cogitate about other things. Why, it has been my dream, ever since I was young, to go outside of the castle to see what things look like outside. I wanted to judge on whether it is as pretty as how the artists depict it and how the people are like how the nobles have discoursed about it. Frankly, I've yearned to be whisked away by a man and run away while wearing a secretive cloak; an irony honed to be as sharp as a blade that made me bleed alive.

Yet, I had to admit that the nature was calming. The racket of the wheels eventually tuned out as I noticed the beauty of the passing trees and animals. To my great surprise, I saw deer, two does and one stag. Like magic, it made me smile as I watched these creatures gallop for the first time along the wagon.

I was free… from all of that duty. From all of that restriction. From all of those expectations and decisions not mine to make. With my arms resting on the door of the wagonbed, I watched with a smiling reverie. Freedom, was it?

Though, perhaps there was something I could not see, for the bows* granted me only a partial view. I widened my eyes as those deer turned the other way and retreated back, followed by a pack of wolves. Then I became staid as I saw one of the wolves feed on the carcass of a dead animal.

We passed more trees. Eventually, we were engulfed by a forest where I no longer had the view of the dread I had seen. Distantly, I stared at the blade that was trembling in front of me- the blade that licked blood for the first time last night-with malign, thirsting for revenge. I did not know what to do, for I was too tired and faint to feel such malice.

Instead, I curled up against the corner, hugged my knees, and then silently wept once again.

*bows: The cover of the wagon.

CCP: Eloquence! Right so that's the end of this chapter. Of course, this is the morning after the massacre. Of course, anyone with the right state of mind would feel like shit in a situation like that. Hopefully I did not make the mood too superfluous. I really love Dragon Age and I do hope to get somewhere with this! So review if anything. Thankyas!