Octavia stirred in the bed as the cold tickled her nose, rolling over on her stomach to reach out for Darrian's warmth. Her arms sought strong arms to soothe her back to sleep, but they found only the rough material of a bed that wasn't hers.
Her eyes snapped open as the memories of the last week flooded her mind and her eyes began to swell before she could comprehend the memory. Her breathing became rugged, heart pounding in her chest.
"Ah, your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased."
Octavia blinked slowly as she was pulled back at the sound of another woman's voice. She sat up slowly, looking around the small hut with unenthusiastic curiosity. Seeing her mabari perked up and staring back at her while laying by the fireplace. She looked down at herself to find herself in a rough white tunic. Wiping a stray tear away, she finally spoke.
"Morrigan?"
"I- well, yes." Morrigan shifted uncomfortably. "How…." She cleared her throat and collected herself. "How does your memory fare? Do you remember Mother's rescue?"
Octavia lifted a hand to her hand to cover her mouth and let out a shuttered breath. "I remember being overwhelmed by darkspawn…."
Morrigan nodded solemnly. "Mother managed to save you and your friend, though it was a close call." She moved to the pot hovering over the fireplace in the small hut and began to pour a cup of what was brewing, before handing it to Octavia. "The important thing is you're both alive. This is a brew of mother's creation, elfroot to heal. Careful, 'tis hot."
Octavia blew on the contents and took a sip without hesitation. The warmth filled her chest and the flavor, while not overly delicious, wasn't horrible. "Thank you."
Morrigan quirked a brow. "The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field." The witch spoke slowly. "The darkspawn won your battle. Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friend… he is not taking it well."
"Maker's breath, what are these darkspawn doing ahead of the rest of the horde? There wasn't supposed to be any resistance here!"
"Loghain better be ready to charge as soon as we light the beacon! The king is depending on us!"
"Octavia! Get down!"
Octavia held the brew close to her chest. "My friend… You mean Alistair."
"The suspicious dimwitted one who was with you before, yes." Morrigan rolled her eyes. "He is outside by the fire. Mother asked to see you when you awoke."
Octavia took the last sip of her tea and reached out to give the cup back to Morrigan. "Thank you, Morrigan." Octavia gave the other women a warm smile, that did nothing to hide her exhaustion.
"I… you are welcome, though mother did most of the work. I am no healer." Morrigan said, momentarily flustered.
Octavia stood from the bed, "Still, thank you." She moved to the door and walked out of the hut, flinching at the brightness of the sun.
The air was soft and gentle on her face, the cool air reminding her of nights on her terrace looking at the stars. The trees were beginning to fade to orange and the breeze had a light chill. It was the weather she wanted for her wedding; the thought formed a knot in her throat, but she pressed on.
"See? Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, young man." Morrigan's mother beckoned her over to the fire, and Alistair spun around to face her with wide eyes.
His heart swelled in his chest at the sight of the small girl gracefully walking toward the fire. Her eyes downcast and glassy, arms held out to feel the heat; and yet, against his better judgment, he rushed up to her and scooped her in his arms in a tight hug.
"You… you're alive!" he exclaimed. Slender arms wrapped themselves around him and hugged him back, her small frame slowly began to shiver. "I thought you were dead for sure!"
Her breath hitched in her throat as his strong arms wrapped tight against her, pulling her closer into his armored chest.
Bryce pulled his daughter into a tight hug. Octavia wrapped her arms around her father almost too tightly. "But I will tell you, however; you're my darling daughter. I love you, and I trust you and Darrin completely to carry on the Cousland name if the worst should happen." He placed a ginger kiss on her head.
"Stay." Fergus motioned her in. "I'd like to say goodbye." He pulled her into a loving hug and kissed the top of her head.
She felt hands wrap around her waist from behind. "Hm, no parents or protective brothers for a few weeks." Dairren kissed her temple and turned her around to look at him.
Her body began to shiver as silent tears flooded her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, wrapped in Alistair's tight embrace. If she closed her eyes hard enough, she could pretend she was still in her castle – or had died in her lover's arms.
Alistair let out heavy breaths as the sight of the last member of his family walked in front of him, no matter how little he knew her. "This doesn't seem real. If it wasn't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead on top of that tower."
"Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad," the elder witch snapped at the display in front of her, Alistair had been driving her nerves for the last few days.
His wounds had healed fairly quickly, being relatively minor. He was a trained warrior and a trained Grey Warden, he was able to hold his own until help came, much to his surprise. As much as he tried, there were too many enemies and he tried his best to fight his way over and protect her, but the darkspawn came too heavy and too fast. Thankfully her mabari was well trained and able to keep those who escaped her arrows for as long as he could. Although her inexperience cost her several severe wounds. Much like the dog, Alistair stayed by her bed as much as possible. The witches, however, are much scarier than the king's men and were able to force him away when Morrigan needed a break from his insipid questions.
Alistair pulled away from Octavia abruptly, flushing and looking chagrined. "I didn't mean… but what do we call you? You never told us your name."
Revealing her swollen, tear-stained face to the old woman, the witch beckoned her over to the fire to warm the blonde. "Names are pretty, but useless. The chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do." The witch in question set herself to giving Octavia a final once over, to which Octavia didn't protest; moving her body how the older women needed it to.
"The Flemeth from the legends? Daveth was right – you're a Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?" Alistair accused, eyes darting between the two women as Octavia allowed Flemeth to look over her undisturbed.
Flemeth reached a hand over Octavia's face to ease the swelling from the tears as she met Alistair's eyes with a stern gaze. "And what does that mean? I know a bit of magic and it has served you both well, has it not?"
Octavia reached her hand up to hold Flemeth's. "Thank you, Flemeth. For… well, everything." The witch was taken back by the physical touch but nodded in acknowledgement all the same. "I hate to ask, because I know you are sure, but are we safe here?"
Flemeth waved off her concern. "The largest part of the horde has moved on. We are safe enough for now; old Flemeth knows a thing or two about hiding. The longer you stay here, the less that is true, however. These things will notice you eventually."
Octavia felt dread creep up her spine. "You want us to leave? Where will we go?"
Flemeth cackled loudly at the look of panic on the young lady's face. "All I wish you to do is what you are meant to do. It has always been the Grey Wardens' duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did that change when I wasn't looking?"
"The two of us?" Octavia muttered to herself as she walked past the fire to look at the path they'd taken from Ostagar with Daveth and Jory. A whole army of men, wiped out by the darkspawn. The man who was supposed to be the king's most trusted adviser, left the field, and left all those people to die…
"If you think small numbers make you helpless, you are already defeated."
Alistair runs his hands through his hair, "But we were fighting the darkspawn! The King had nearly defeated them! Why would Loghain do this?"
Octavia could hear the chatter as her eyes scanned the peaceful looking scenery. The air blew her hair in the wind as the chill of the fall air brushed her supple cheeks and nipped at her toes. Darren would love this picture. The beautiful vista, orange and red slowly taking over the green – and his beloved Dove's hair unbrushed and walking in dirt without shoes.
Octavia sniffled and tucked her hair behind her ears before crossing her arms across her chest. "Um, what about the Orlesian Grey Wardens? Could you reach out to them?"
Alistair looked at her with furrowed brows. "Me?" he questioned, pointing up at himself.
"Well," she spoke slowly, "you are the real Grey Warden."
His shoulders fell and he looked hurriedly between Flemeth and Octavia, "All Grey Wardens are gone except for us. I've lost everyone! For the love of the Maker, don't back out on me now."
Flemeth huffed, "It has always been the Grey Wardens' duty to unite the lands against the Blight, or did that change when I wasn't looking?"
"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's forceful voice cut through the thick fog of sorrow hanging in the room. She sputtered as all eyes glanced at her but didn't linger.
"I…I understand." The weakness in that voice would forever ring in her ears.
"What? No! I won't leave my father!" Her breathing was becoming rugged as she reached for her mother's hand.
Bryce reached for his daughter and pulled her unused hand to himself. "Howe thinks he'll use the chaos to…" He took a large desperate breath, "advance himself. Make him wrong, pup. See that justice is done." He placed a chaste kiss on her hand. "Our family… always does our duty first."
"Daddy…" Octavia sobbed into her father's hand.
Octavia shifted and rocked her body side to side. "Okay…" she breathed, "so… what's first?"
The walk was uncomfortable to say the least. Alistair was walking a few steps back to her left, quiet. His eyes were dull and unfocused, and Octavia supposed it was good they hadn't run in trouble. Though it wouldn't have been dire, Morrigan was on high alert – of their surroundings and the two Wardens she traveled with. She followed a few steps back, to Octavia's right, guiding her from behind.
Octavia started to fix her ponytail and nibble on her lip. Was she supposed to lead them all the way to Redcliffe? Eventually Alistair would be ready to take charge, yes?
Calenhad led the group, jumping around when he found something interesting. Well, interesting to him at least. Running up to her with a dirty ball of yarn now covered in his slobber.
The end of the road came close and the little town of Lothering came into view. She couldn't help but think it reminded her of the little village her dear Dairren came from.
"Ah, Lothering. Pretty as a painting." Alistair stared into the little town. He couldn't help but think from this viewpoint the world was so peaceful. If he pretended hard enough, maybe he could convince himself Duncan was still alive.
"Ah. So you have finally decided to rejoin us, have you? Falling on your blade in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it?"
Alistair turned to glare at the witch. How dare she! "Is my being upset so hard to understand? Have you never lost someone important to you? Just what would you do if your mother died?"
Morrigan smirked and crossed her arms under her chest and leaned back on one leg. "Before or after I stop laughing?"
"Right. Very creepy, forget I ask." Alistair rolled his eyes and huffed.
Alistair felt a hand squeeze his arm. "You have been very quiet, Alistair."
"Yes, I know. I was just… thinking."
"No wonder it took so long then."
"Oh I get it. This is the part where we're shocked to discover how you've never had a friend your entire life."
"I can be friendly when I desire to. Alas, desiring to be more intelligent does not make it so."
"Anyway… I thought we should discuss where we intended to go, first."
"Maybe." Octavia frantically interrupted, "we should split up. Um, Alistair, why don't you go to the local tavern?"
Alistair looked between the two women, huffed, and bounded into town. Morrigan looks over at her. "And my task?" she sniped.
Octavia looked across the town in front of them. "Alright, okay. Go to the Chantry board and look for some easy jobs. It's a little village so I don't think there will be anything you can't handle on your own." They began walking to the chantry together, Octavia taking in the village and its people.
"Ah, the Chantry board. Yes, let us run errands for the betterment of mankind as well as a few coppers." Morrigan rolled her eyes with a false cheerfulness.
"Coppers are coin and if we want to eat and maintain our weapons, we have no choice. But I understand if it makes you uncomfortable, I can find Alistair and have him do it."
Morrigan side eyed her curiously, trying to determine if her consideration was genuine. "No need, I am perfectly capable of fetching trinkets and chasing down bunnies."
Octavia smiled and lips pressed into a thin line and moved forward into the chantry. The feeling of fear and despair settled into her as she moved through the room, her armor and nourished body causing some stares and attention. Octavia reached up to tug on her ponytail, the feeling of the people's questioning eyes gnawing at her skin. She was so lost in her nerves she didn't notice the templar until she ran straight into his chest.
"My Lady, are you alright?" The templar reached out his hands to grasp her shoulders and steady her.
Octavia looked up at him with wide eyes and a mouth agape. "I am so sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt." She took a few steps back, putting some space between them.
The templar smiled down at her, finding the sight of such a small woman wearing armor amusing, though he supposed the darkspawn were scaring people into overcompensating – he heard a farmer laid poison traps on his land! "It's no problem, My Lady. May I say you don't seem like the other refugees. Are you passing through?"
Octavia pulled at her leather straps of armor. "Oh no. I'm a… I'm a… Grey Warden."
Octavia's mouth ran dry as she realized she never actually said it out loud. Or even internally. She was Grey Warden. Her world was now griffins and darkspawn and swords and Blights and…
And what?
She never learned more about them. Duncan saved her life and brought her into the Order, and she never learned anything about them. She moved to cover her mouth with her hands, the templar's words sounding far off and muffled.
She did the Joining and never stopped to ask what she was committing to for the rest of her life.
"But the Joining is not yet complete." Octavia's heart hammered in her chest; her body trembled violently as she forced down the sob that threatened to spill out. "You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good." Octavia wiped the tears on her face as Duncan brought forth the Joining chalice.
Alistair crossed his arm over his chest, his other coming up to cover his mouth. He took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and turned his body to look the other direction.
Octavia swallowed the lump in her throat as she took the chalice in her shaking hands. She bit her lip and looked up to meet Duncan's eyes. She breathed and accepted that at least she'll be with her Dairren once again and took a sip.
Her body convulsed and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her head filled with the song, she could feel her heartbeat in her head. Her vision blurred before her hands shot up and grabbed her head as it throbbed. Octavia's head forced itself upwards as her eyes rolled back into her head. She felt arms wrap around her slender frame as she fell forward.
"-ady? My Lady, are you alright?"
Octavia looked up at the templar as he held out a small handkerchief. "Oh Maker, I'm so sorry," She said, taking the cloth gratefully and wiping her damp eyes.
"My Lady, Teyrn Loghain declared all Grey Wardens traitors, responsible for the king's death. You know this, I hope?"
Octavia felt her stomach twist and her heart sputter. Her legs gave out and she would've dropped to the ground if not for the templar who reached out to keep her up, leading her to a chantry pew to sit down.
"I don't believe the Grey Wardens would be as careless or malicious as the Teyrn claims, but either way, there it is."
Alistair. He's out in the village where anyone could find him. Octavia stood abruptly, "I have to go, thank you so much."
She made her way out of the chantry with rushed steps, ignoring the templar's concerned calls to come back.
"I apologize for interfering, but I couldn't just sit by and not help." Alistair sat in a chair turned away from its table while a well-armed chantry sister cleaned his head wound – a gash just below his forehead hairline.
"Oh, it's no problem really. Nothing like a brush with death, to make you… not like death very much." He joked as he touched his forehead. The bleeding was over and he supposed it wasn't deep enough to require healing– he was lucky.
The door to the tavern burst open with a scattered looking Octavia panickedly searching the room until her eyes landed on the pair and the wound on Alistair's head. She darted over to the pair without a second look at the red headed woman.
Alistair blushed slightly as she brushed his hair out of his face to get a better look at his wound. "What happened? Are you okay?" Alistair found himself stuck on the gentleness in her eyes, how her words were spoken with such softness.
"He was attacked by the teryn's men."
Octavia looked at the Orlesian woman sitting next to him. Octavia blinked at her chantry robes and daggers. "Oh, I'm sorry, um…"
"Let me introduce myself." The redhead said, pulling a chair from another table to face them. "I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the Chantry here in Lothering. Or I was."
"I'm Lad-" Octavia swallowed. "I am Octavia, it's a pleasure. And I suppose you've met Alistair." She moved to stand, followed closely by Alistair, who was still a little flustered.
"Those men said you're a Grey Warden. You will be battling the darkspawn, yes? That is what the Grey Wardens do, yes?" She was perched up at the edge of her chair. "I know after what happened, you'll need all the help you can get. That's why I'm coming along."
Octavia blinked. "If I may ask, why would you want to do that?"
"The Maker told me to."
Octavia and Alistair looked at each other with furrowed brows and back at the sister.
"Could… Could you elaborate?"
Leliana ducked her head down as she nibbled on her lip and stood slowly. "I-I know that sounds… absolutely insane – but it's true! I had a dream… a vision!"
Alistair turned his head to mutter quietly, "More crazy? I thought we were all full up."
"Look at the people here. They are lost in their despair, and this darkness, this chaos… will spread. The Maker does not want this. What you do, what you are meant to do, is the Maker's will."
Octavia looked up at Alistair who stared back at her expectantly. Octavia assumed he still wasn't ready to lead. Looks like this decision was up to her. It's true they needed people, but they'd be putting her life at risk. Though if she felt this was the will of the Maker, could she to refuse her? Especially if this dream really was the Maker?
"Well, if the Maker wills it…" She said, yanking at her ponytail.
"Thank you! I will not let you down!"
Octavia looked around the bar to see if anyone was still paying attention to them, before she leaned in carefully and whispered, "We need to be very careful. Loghain has declared the Grey Wardens traitors and there is a bounty them… us. We need to keep our identity a secret from here on out."
"He what? That – Ugh!" Alistair threw his hands up. Octavia set a comforting hand on his arm and squeezed.
"We can't be alone, either. Morrigan is doing Chantry board requests, Alistair, you should go help her. I'll try to see what other information I can find. Leliana, could you help me?"
"I have a wonder, Alistair, if you will indulge me?" Morrigan stood behind Alistair as he searched through the bandit's stolen goods.
"Do I have a choice?" He turned to hand her some coin and herbs he found inside a crate.
"Of the two of you who remain, are you not the senior Grey Warden?" She sorted the items into shared pouches. "I find it curious that you allow another to lead, while you follow?"
Alistair stood with a sigh. "You find that curious, do you?" He huffed and started to walk back to the chantry.
Morrigan trailed after him with crossed arms. "In fact, you refer to a new recruit. Is this a policy of the Grey Wardens? Or simply a personal one?"
Alistair glared at her. "What do you want to hear? That I prefer to follow? I do."
"You sound so very defensive." She mocked.
He huffed again and stormed past the chantry board into the courtyard away from Morrigan, if only for a moment. He plopped down onto a bench near some rose bushes and dropped his head into his hands. He let out a heavy sigh and swallowed. He could hear Duncan's voice chastising him, telling him not to let the apostate get the better of him. He looked up and watched as Octavia rushed out of the chantry towards the bridge, followed quickly by Leliana.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and ran his hand down his face. He needed to trust Octavia and she seemed to know what to do. He stood and looked around and found a dead bush with a single blossoming rose.
A/N I just noticed I NEVER update this story on , because the hassle, but the story is always updated on AO3. As soon as I have a chapter, I post it there, so if you'd like to get better updates. head over there. Username is kindagayopportunity