She doesn't think she will ever be able to get over her grief over the tragedy at Ostagar.
Until her dying moment she will forever look back at the day all those people died because of one man's treachery.
She tightens her grip at the parchment in her hands.
"Filauria…" Alistair says gently. She looks up to see her other companions looking at her, some with concern, and others with curiosity.
They are at the North Road, halfway through their journey from Orzammar to Denerim when they had heard a commotion not too far away.
She remembers Elric Maraigne's lifeless body, covered in his own blood, and she adds it to the list of people she could not save.
"We need to get those documents," Filauria says finally.
"Oh?" Morrigan raises an eyebrow. "And you think that is wise? There is a blight upon us, Warden. Any moment those wretched creatures may appear at our doorstep and kills us all, and you think a detour like this one is a good idea?"
"The witch is right," Sten adds, looking at her sternly. "I do not approve of looking for the remains of a dead woman, but I had agreed because I saw cause that it is necessary. But this is foolishness."
"It's not," Filauria says to them in a hard voice. "I know we are under tight schedule as it is, but this 'little detour' is important to me."
The dark-haired witch rolls her eyes. "Yes because your problems are bigger than everyone else's."
"Watch your mouth!" Alistair takes a step forward and glares at Morrigan. The witch's yellow eyes narrow at the Templar, but says nothing.
Leliana puts a reassuring hand on Filauria's shoulder. "I will follow you whatever your decision may be, Filauria, but how do you think we can go back to Ostagar with so the so little time we have left?"
Filauria gives her a thankful smile, and then looks at each of her companions meaningfully. "We split up."
Their reactions are instantaneous.
"What?"
"I am not certain that is wise –"
"Filauria, I don't think –"
"Blasted pigeons!"
Filauria sighs inwardly. She studies each of their reactions one by one. True to her word, Leliana says nothing against her decision, but looks at her with concern. There is a certain glint of hope in Alistair's eyes, but he voices his concern about the safety journey if they split up. Wynne looks at her anxiously, seeming to try to figure out what she's thinking by making such a decision. Morrigan and Sten looks entirely against the idea, the only difference is that Sten doesn't seem to think there is much use in speaking against it, and he is right. Even James whines quietly at the corner.
The only ones who don't react are Shale and Ogrhen – who both doesn't seem to care wherever they go next, most of the time – and Zevran.
His eyes find hers.
He is looking at her with an odd expression. She tilts her head slightly and frowns, not breaking eye contact.
Around her, the gang are already debating amongst themselves what to do next.
And then, ever-so-slightly, Zevran nods once.
Filauria blinks. She hears the unspoken message.
Go.
Filauria takes in a deep breath. "Please!"
The world silences around her. All sets of eyes at the camp are looking at her now.
Slowly, she falls down on her knees.
Alistair takes a step forward. "Filauria –"
"Please," she repeats, barely a whisper. She remembers hearing their screams that day. She remembers the sound of metal against metal, blade through flesh.
She remembers death.
"This is the only thing I will ask of you." She closes her fingers around the cloth of her tattered robes. "Of all of you."
None of the others speak. She bows her head in plea. "I need to do this."
The silence draws on; until she hears a pair of footsteps walking towards her. Leliana gently reaches for both her arms, and pulls her up.
"We are sorry, Filauria," Leliana says softly, her eyes shining with shame. "We are all too quick to ask from you, but this we cannot grant to you as easily as you would to us."
Filauria offers her a quick smile, before glancing nervously at her companions. The others avert their gazes with lips pressed tightly together.
"I will stay with the others to Denerim," Wynne says quietly, finally looking at her with a sad expression. "Even though I, too, would like to go back to Ostagar, the other would need a healer with them."
Filauria nods and smiles at her. "Thank you, Wynne."
"I would like to come with you," Alistair walks towards her, reaching to hold her right hand. "I need this, too."
Filauria nods again.
She turns to look at Zevran, who is quietly watching from not too far away.
"Would you like to come?" she asks the assassin.
The others follow her gaze curiously, well-aware of their argument a few nights prior.
A flash of understanding crosses passes through his light brown eyes. She knows he understands her silent request.
Please come.
Zevran smirks. "Anything for you, my Warden."
"I would like to come, too!" Leliana offers, still looking at her with guilt-ridden eyes.
Filauria shakes her head. "The others would need a rogue with them, Leliana."
Leliana obliges, but not without a frown.
"I'd need another warrior, I guess." Her eyes automatically falls to Sten, but he growls and looks away. Filauria sighs and turns to the dwarf who is sprawled on the ground, drunk as usual. "Ogrhen?"
"I go where you go, Warden-boss-woman," Ogrhen slurs, taking a sip from his flask. "Heh. Ancestors know what you'd do without me."
The elven mage laughs, tension dissipating from her shoulders. "Oh, yes, Ogrhen. You know you complete me."