The campfire crackled in the wind; Octavia's heavy swollen eyes stared into the fire. Her stare vacant and empty. The wind caught her hair, strands sticking to the tears and snot that cover her face. The family sword laid on the ground beside her, her faithful hound resting by her feet.

The assailant turned his eyes to the blonde, a smirk creeping on to his sinister face.

Octavia took a step back, bulging eyes snapping between her lover's body and the soldier smiling at her. Octavia frantically looked beside her for something, anything to grab. She snatched a candle holder and pulled it back ready for attack. The thread of fear holding her together.

The soldier gave dark cackle and shook his head, advancing on his target.

The solider stilled and dropped to his knees. He fell forward, revealing the arrow in the back of his head.

Octavia faltered and looked up to see her mother in armor with her bow. Octavia dropped the candle holder and stumbled forward to her dead fiancé. She fell to her knees and placed a hand on Darrien's bloody cheek. "No…" Octavia whispered to herself.

"Oh, my darling girl." Eleanor carefully approached her daughter, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

The thread snapped.

Octavia sobbed as her head fell to her beloved's chest, holding his to her. Her throat burned raw as her sobs became heavier, she slammed her fist into the concrete floor.

"My darling girl, I'm so sorry. We must go before more soldiers come."

"Leave me." Octavia muttered through sobs, brushing her fingers threw Darien's curls.

"Darling, please. I'll never. We must get to safety. Your father is missing!" Octavia pressed her lips to her betrothed's forehead and reached down to take the ring from his hand.

"I will never stop loving you." She whispered through the tears, gently closing his eyes for him.

Duncan came back to their camp with clothes and shoes, "They didn't carry much, but it's better than torn bloody bed robes." Her mind barely registered taking the new clothes from him. She walked to the stream and rinsed off.

"Howe isn't even taking hostages! He means to kill all of us!"

The cool feeling of the water splashed her face, running pink as the blood washed away.

"Dear Landra! If she hadn't come to us…. If she hadn't of been here…."

Duncan carefully rewrapped the bandages on her stomach, making sure the poultice-soaked cotton fully covered the stab wound on her lower stomach. The silence between the two never broken, Octavia's eyes stayed unfocused, and Duncan stayed stoic.

"Your Ladyship, my Lady! You're both still alive! I was certain Howe's men had gotten through!" The Cousland women coming through the doorway pulled Rodrick away from the main gate.

Rodrick felt his heart fall to his stomach when he took in the horrifying sight before him.

Octavia's limp body is held up by her slender arm thrown over her mother's shoulders, bleeding out from a spot on her stomach covered by her own hand.

Rodrick raced to her side, gathering into her arms, holding her close to his chest

He held her tight to his chest, the only thing keeping her up. Her stomach felt hot, her body tingled.

She wished she had died with Darrien.

Duncan held his hand out to her, helping her up the stairs of the ruined fortress, "My lady." The guard at the gate bowed at the sight of the young Cousland.

"Duncan…" Bryce wheezed as the pain of his wound became unbearable, "I beg of you… take my wife and daughter to safety!" His voice, while broken and struggling, never wavered in his determination.

"I will, your Lordship. But…" He glanced over at the hollow girl lying in her mother's lap, "I fear I must ask you for something in return."

"Anything!"

Duncan swallowed the lump in his throat, regretting ask his old friend such a favor. "What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil now loose in this world. I came to your castle seeking a recruit, the darkspawn threat demands I leave with one." Duncan forced his eyes away from the teryn's when he saw the revulsion in his friend's eyes. Duncan felt his stomach twist and throat burn; he felt as if he would vomit.

"I…I understand." The weakness in that voice would forever ring in his ears.

The king walked over the bridge to the entrance of the ruined fortress, excitement evident in the bounce in his step. "Ho there, Duncan!" Two royal guards all but sprinted to keep up with the younger man.

"King Cailan?" The travelers and hound had barely stepped past the gates when the king enthusiastically ran up to commander. Duncan's shock didn't prevent him from reaching out and shaking the younger man's hand. "I didn't expect-"

"A royal welcome?" The king chuckled. "I was begging to think you'd miss all the fun!"

Duncan bit his tongue at the absurdness of the king. "Not if I could help it, your Majesty." Cailan moved to stand side by side with The Warden Commander, tunnel visioned in his fantasy of victory and fables.

Cailan's grin only grew bigger at the seriousness in his friend's voice. "I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side after all! Glorious!" Duncan closed his eyes for a minute, stifling the urge to remind Cailan this was a war. "The other wardens told me you found a promising recr-"

Cailan's eyes finally looked unto the feeble girl; his eyes widened, and his shoulders went rigid. The mabari jumped in circles, barking excitedly to see someone familiar, but Cailan's eyes stay focused on the younger girl. "Octavia?" Her trembling frame stiffened slightly, her tear-stained faced rose to meet his eyes. Her long, flowing blonde hair was unkept and tangled. She always looked so regal, but now stood before him in a rough, brown tunic dress that stopped halfway to her calf. No makeup, no jewelry, no color in her pale face. Cailan moved towards and placed a gloved hand on her puffy and swollen face, assumptions swirled in his head and his face twisted as his temper rose. "Duncan if you invoked the right of conscription on a teryn's dau-"

"There is much to tell you, Your Majesty," Duncan carefully cut off the king's increasing panic. "But she should see a healer."

Cailan looked between the earnest face of the commander and the broken girl in front of him. He huffed and motioned one of the guards, "Please escort her to the medical tents. Duncan, follow me to my tent."

The Ferelden king sat on the edge of the cot in his tent, Duncan across from him on a rickety chair with the Ferelden dog laying by his feet. Cailan's fists were clenched and trembling, head hanging to hide his face. "How could he think he could get away with such treachery!" He spat the words through bared teeth. Duncan sat silent, allowing the blond to vent his grief.

Cailan shot up and kicked the bed stool beside him, shattering the water jug that sat on it on the ground. "Forces will be sent to bring justice to Howe. I will see him hung for his crimes!"

Duncan finally stood and pulled him back down to his sitting position on the cot. "Your majesty-"

"Cailan. We're alone now Duncan."

"Cailan," Duncan stressed patiently, "I understand the Couslands are beloved friends of your family, Octavia in particular." Cailan kept his eyes away from Duncan's. "But the Darkspawn threat is approaching. We must prepare for battle; I will have Alistair see to her care for now."

Cailan wrung his hands together uncertainly, slowly coming down from his anger. "I need to meet Loghain. He waits eagerly to bore me with strategies."

Duncan followed Cailan out of the royal tent, closely followed by Octavia's hound, and parted with the king to make way to his own camp. The Grey Wardens had not possessed a permanent home in Fereldan since the fall of Soldier's Peak, going where the Darkspawn demand. They took up camp here, at Ostagar, north of the Korcari Wilds. The Tevinter Imperium built Ostagar long ago to prevent Wilders from invading the lowlands, this was where they would make their stand against the Darkspawn. The fortress now lay ruined yet standing strong. Broken stone pillars lay in rubble, but the structure was ready for battle.


Octavia walked away from the medical designated area, body dragging itself without purposes. The healers confirmed Duncan did an amazing job keeping the wound clean and healing it with poultices. They simply healed the scab, straightened her up and quickly moved on to more injured soldiers. Octavia's hair has been brushed through, healing magic bringing the puffiness in her face down. She looked clean, but the dark circles under her eyes and frail demeanor gave her away.

"Careful, dear. You'll take a dear woman out." The soft voice and gentle hands on her left arm halted her movements and made her vastly aware she nearly walked into someone.

"Oh, my." Octavia's damp blue eyes met the concerned blue eyes of an older women. The other woman's fully grey hair was pulled into a tight bun, wrinkles across her skin and robes indicating she was a mage. "I'm very sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

The older women furred her brow, "Are you alright child?" She reached out and tucked a loose blonde strand behind her ear.

Octavia swallowed a lump in her throat.

I love you darling, you know that don't you?"

"Yes, I-" she blinked back tears and wrapped her arms around her stomach. "Is there a chantry? Maybe – or a chantry like…area?"

The old mage nodded her head and guided her to an area with a makeshift stage. Atop stood a chantry mother preaching and several soldiers prayed at the foot of the stage.

Octavia smiled tightly, "Thank you…um…"

"Wynne."

The younger woman nodded. "Wynne." Octavia gently waved and move towards the stage and fell to her knees.

"Darrien…" Octavia couldn't have stopped the tears from falling – not that she tried. She kneeled on the ground with hands clasped in front of her. Her heart felt hollow as she began to pray to the blessed Andraste. "Bless me, your faithful child with the strength and courage to live. Lead me through the darkness with your everlasting light." The tears fell faster, pushing down the sobs. Heartbeat pounding in her ears. "Darrien I'm so sorry." Octavia breathed in and out, desperately attempting to not fall apart here – in front of so many. "I'm so sorry, Darrien. I love you so much. I wish it had been me…"

"Excuse me! Uh, you must be Duncan's new recruit!" Octavia blinked a couple times, realizing someone was speaking to her. She slowly stood, wiping the tears from her face quickly, turning to face the voice.

A strong man in chainmail starring back at her, sandy blond hair and a goofy smile. He towered over her, Octavia barely reaching the bottom of his chin. Kind hazel eyes. She forced a polite smile.

"Yes, I am Octavia." She gently brushed her skirt, regally brushing the dirt off her rough tunic dress.

The man simply snapped and pointed upwards. "Right! That was the name. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Alistair, the new Grey Warden, though I'm sure you knew that." He sent her a bashful grin and reached forward to take her hand.

Octavia glanced up to his face and back down to his hand before hesitantly placing her much smaller hand in his gloved hand. "A pleasure to meet you."

He motioned for her to follow him as they moved towards the armory. "As the junior member of the Order, I'll be accompanying you and two others when you prepare for the Joining. Daveth and Jory are waiting by the weapons station for us, Duncan has instructed me to find you armor and a weapon."

Armor and a weapon. The phrase buzzed around in her head, whatever the taller man was saying fell on deaf ears. Armor and a weapon. Fighting, warrior, darkspawn. She can't do this. She is not a soldier. She is a teryn's daughter. This wasn't supposed to happen. This was supposed to be Ser Gilmore.

"You know, I think he might be considering you for recruitment."

"Me? Are you sure?"

"Well, you're not what I'd thought you'd be."

A scruffy voice pulled her back.

Octavia blinked, mouth slightly open. A dark hair Rivaini man subtly gestured, wiping his thump over his cheek. Octavia reached up to her face, wiping away a stray tear. "Um, what did you think I'd be?" She sniffed lightly.

"Not a woman. Yet here you are." A taller balding man next to him gawked at the sheer boldness of the darker man. She finally looked around and noticed Alistair a few feet away, speaking to the quartermaster. Both men stood over her but not quite as much as Alistair. The taller of the two was prominently Ferelden born, his large frame making it evident he was a warrior of some kind. The shorter of the two was much smaller in frame and build, but clearly still fit. Sword verses daggers. "Name's Daveth. It's about bloody time you came around, I was beginning to think they cooked this ritual up just for our benefit." Daveth joked happily.

"My Lady," The balding man bowed quickly. "I hail from Redcliffe, but my wife is in Highever." Daveth quirked a brow and looked between the two until realization hit.

Daveth moved to correct his mistake until he saw the noblewoman's face. Her eyes were downcast, long blonde hair falling in front of her pale, colorless face, her dainty hands grasping a lock running it through her hands over and over.

Daveth hastily spoke, "I happened to be sneaking around camp last night, see, and I heard a couple of Grey Wardens talking, So I listen in for a bit. I'm thinking the plan to send us into the Wilds." Daveth glanced to his side, the knight was still saluting. Daveth rolled his eyes and stealthily nudge him to stop. The knight jerked, confused.

His eyes glanced back and forth between the two before hesitantly speaking up, "I never heard of such a ritual. I had no idea there were more tests after getting recruited." He looked nervously down at the ground, kicking the drift around. "Oh, uh, Ser Jory is the name."

"It's all too secretive for me. Makes my nose twitch." Looked around almost suspiciously before shrugging it off with a chuckle. "I guess we'll have to wait and see, like we have a choice."

"I wouldn't be here if I had one." Octavia mumbled bitterly, wringing her hands together.

"You're kidding?" Ser Jory exclaimed. "I fought for the opportunity to be here!"

Octavia nodded her head, looking across the camp at Duncan playing with her mabari. Daveth stared at her, curiosity spinning in his eyes. Understanding and lack thereof battling to piece together the truth.

"So," Alistair's voice called her attention back over to their group. "What's your weapon?"

Octavia's eyes nearly pooped out, "Weapon?"

Alistair chuckled, half-heartedly. "Your specialization?"

Octavia shifted uncomfortably. "I, uh… am unfamiliar with weaponry?"

Alistair's face immediately went bright red. "Yes, of course. I should've realized you were a mage by your small frame. We can get some robes fr-"

"I'm not a mage."

Alistair's brow furred and looked down at the small girl in front of him. "If you don't use weapon, how do you-"

"How about a bow?" Daveth's interruption turned all eyes to him. "It's not as light as a dagger, but it'll keep you from the direct fighting while you learn it better." Alistair eyes jump back and forth between the two, bewilderment complete obvious. "We have plenty of time before we Duncan needs us. I'll show the basics."

Octavia chewed on her bottom lip, thinking it through slowly. "Okay…." Daveth smiled and took her over to the quartermaster. Alistair watched as the weaponsmith conversed with the roguish man and began pulling armor and metals to show the younger two. Alistair excused himself and headed over to Duncan's camp.

Seeing the young man approaching, Duncan straightened his back and stood fully. "Are they adjusting well?"

Alistair shuffled slightly. "Yes – well – uh," Duncan looked Alistair in the eyes, and the younger man immediately cleared his throat and straightened up. "Ser Jory and Daveth are doing fine, but Octavia seems… inexperienced."

Duncan turned his attention to documents he intended to work on when the mabari distracted him. "Say it Alistair."

Alistair shifted back and forth on his feet, "She seems like a fine girl, and I don't want to sound like I'm questioning you…. but, uh….why is she – well, why did you recruit her?"

Duncan smiled, "Take her to the Wilds with the others when you're ready. You'll see."


"That's good, just raise your elbow up a little more." Daveth gently raised Octavia's elbow of the arm pulling back the arrow, while keeping her other straight. Octavia's was now wearing in studded leather armor, holding a strong short bow. Daveth had found a band to hold up her hair in a high ponytail, the end coming past her shoulder blades. "Now deep breath, and release."

The arrow flew through the air and landed on the bullseye. Octavia's eyes lite up and she spun around to look at Daveth. "I did it!"

Daveth held up his hand for a high five, which she hesitantly returned. "You're a natural archer."

Octavia's smile fell from her face. "My…mother was an archer." She grabbed her ponytail, ringing it in her gloved hands. "I wish I had… listened when she wanted to teach me." Her voice cracked, moving a hand to cover her mouth.

Daveth smiled and patted her shoulder. "Let's gather the arrows and find Alistair, I'm sure they need us by now."

"Your father thinks my presence might undermined your and Darrien's authority."

"As you wish."

"I love you, my darling girl. You kn-"

"Stop me if you've heard this one before." Daveth nudged her with his shoulder, "A darkspawn, an abomination and a pony walk into a tavern-"

"I trust everyone is ready." Duncan interrupted the two, Daveth cleared his throat and smirked at Octavia.

Octavia looked around, realizing they already made it to Duncan's camp, Jory and Alistair looking back and forth between the two suspiciously. The mabari jumped in circles, barking excitedly, desperately trying to get the Octavia's attention. She walked up to the dog and crouched to scratch his ears. "Do I look different in this, Calenhad? Hm, baby?"

"Now," Duncan spoke up, "Since you're all here, we can begin. You four will be heading into the Korcari Wilds to perform two tasks. The first is to obtain three vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit."

"And the second task?" Jory prompted.

"There was once a Grey Warden archive in the Wilds, abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts. It has recently come to our attention that some scrolls have been left behind, magically sealed to protect them. Alistair, I want you to retrieve these scrolls if you can."

Alistair dutifully nodded. "Understood."

"The scrolls contain treaties promising support. Treaties that will prove valuable in the days to come. Watch over your charges, Alistair. Return quickly and safely."

"We will."

"Then may the Maker watch over your path. I will see you all when you return."

Alistair motioned the recruits to follow him to the gate leading to the Wilds.

Walking forward, Alistair stayed hyper aware of the girl that travel with them. She was so… small. She was clearly distracted; she didn't know how to use a weapon. He couldn't help but wonder how she had been recruited. It's not that he didn't want her here; she seemed very sweet – and certainly pretty. Duncan had confidence in her, but she still seemed… reluctant.

"Please… over here…" The strangled cry of a man focused their attention ahead. The group ran over to him; Octavia and Alistair kneeled to his level. "Who… is that? Grey… Wardens…?" Octavia reached out to help him sit up.

"Well, he's not half as dead as he looks, is he?" Octavia breathed a small giggle before quickly clearing her throat, but Alistair's smile of validation never faded.

"My scouting band was attacked by darkspawn. They came out of the ground… Please, help me! I've got to… return to camp…"

Octavia looked up at the other men still standing. "Someone should escort him back to the camp."

"If someone could help me up… I could make it back on my own…" The scout reached toward Octavia.

"I have bandages in my pack," Alistair offered.

Octavia helped Alistair wrap his bigger wounds before Alistair helped him up to his feet. "Thank you!" He groaned. "I… I've got to get out of here!"

Alistair went to check her, knowing she's inexperienced.

"Did you hear that?" Jory shouted. "An entire patrol of seasoned men killed by darkspawn!" Jory voice quivered.

Alistair looked over to Octavia, who was staring at the knight, "Calm down, Ser Jory. We'll be fine if we're careful." Alistair waved to move forward but was completely ignored by the others.

"Those soldiers were careful, and they were still overwhelmed. How many darkspawn can the four of us slay? A dozen? A hundred? There's an entire army in these forests!"

"There are darkspawn about but we are in no danger of walking into the bulk of the horde." Alistair spoke slowly and clearly, trying hard to calm the older man. Daveth bumped Octavia's shoulder with his own as he snickered at the knight. Octavia returned it with a nervous smile.

"How do you know? I am not a coward, but this is foolish and reckless. We should go back." Jory turned to the other recruits for support but found Daveth amused and Octavia pulling her ponytail, frowning.

"Know this: All Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn. Whatever their cunning, I guarantee they won't take us by surprise. That's why I'm here." Alistair smiled at the man.

"You see, Ser Knight, we might die. But we'll be warned about it first." Daveth bumped Octavia again, surprising her and making her almost fell. He grabbed her waist and laughed with her as he stabilized her.

Jory snarled at the two, "He's not even taking this seriously! And Lady Octavia can't even hold her wea-"

"Enough!" Octavia's commanding voice left Jory's mouth agape. Daveth step away from the blonde and Alistair turned with wide eyes. "Overcoming these challenges is part of your test, remember you fought for your place here." Her eyes narrowed at him. Her eyes scanned the forest area thoughtfully, "Alistair and Jory will lead our path. Alistair can sense the darkspawn… whatever that means, and Jory is trained as a warrior, yes?" She took a deep breath and turned to Daveth, "I need you to stay with me. Your speed will help us focus on smaller targets while Alistair and Jory take the brutes. I am… distance so I will try to focus on archers and..." She paused and turned to the only Warden among them. "Are their mage darkspawn?"

"Emissaries. I have templar training, let me work them."

Octavia nodded. "Remember our lives depend on acting like a team. Be aware of where everyone is and have each other's backs."

Everyone nodded eagerly.

"I am…sorry." Jory hung his head. "I didn't know you had training-"

"My father is – was the teryn. He fought in the Orlesian war. My brother commands our militia, of course I-" Octavia's heart stopped. "My brother." Octavia turned to Daveth and smiled brightly. "He's alive." She whispered. "He's alive!" She shouted and threw her arms around the taller man. He carefully wrapped his arms around her and stared at the other two men with a shrug. "He came to Ostagar! Cailan must know where he is!"

Alistair laid a hand on her shoulder, "I'm sure the king does know where he is, but-"

"Oh!" She jumped back, smiling to herself. "Yes! I'm so sorry." She straightened her back; she could almost hear her mother's voice telling her to act like a lady.

They walked forward, Octavia's strategy working well enough. Daveth congratulating her every time she hit – and nearly hit – a darkspawn. But the longer she stewed in her head, the more she thought about how she must tell her brother what happened to their family.

"We'll miss you."

"If it's any consolation, I'm sure I'll freeze in the southern rain and be completely jealous of you here, warm and safe."

"I'm positively thrilled that you will be so miserable, husband."

"Look out!" Alistair held his shield in front of her before an arrow could pierce her. Daveth snuck up behind the archer and stabbed him through the back of the throat with his dagger, killing the final enemy in the battle.

Alistair turned to check on the girl. Octavia was staring at the darkspawn corpse. Her heart was racing, her body was trembling. Alistair ached seeing her so scared, he reached out to her, hoping to provide some sort of comfort, but Daveth called out from across the field.

"Ava, why did the templar stab the tutor? He heard he was teaching kids to spell!" Daveth burst out a heap of laughter, causing Octavia to break out of her horror. She looked up and around, her soul slowly falling back into her body. Her eyes landed on Daveth, who was still laughing – though a little forced to continue to make a show for her. She finally let a smile spread across her face and the tension in her body eased away as she mouthed "spell" with a giggle.

Alistair let out a huff and began leading the group forward a long with Jory into a ruined tower with the group following him up to a broken chest.