The group dragged forward, dredging threw dirt and mud as sweat builds on their skin despite the chill of the Harvestmere air. Octavia instructed Sten and Leliana to pull up the front in case of attack from bandits or wolves, leaving Alistair and Calenhad to protect the mage and the inexperienced in the back. Alistair watched Calenhad sniff the ground and look around, sometimes pushing his head against the legs of his master from behind when she slows.
Alistair keeps his hand on his sword hilt, determined to hold the group's rear as he was assigned, but keeping his eyes on the struggling blonde. She was more visibly waning than the rest of they're newly founded party, her hair flyaways stuck to her face, drenched in sweat. Her pretty face bore the unmistakable signs of exhaustion, with deep lines etched at the corners of her eyes and a shadow of weariness beneath them. Her once-confident stride had slowed to a reluctant shuffle; the lines of fatigue were etched not just on her face, but her entire body. Her shoulders slumped, and her back curved as if to accommodate the invisible burden of the journey. The once-graceful posture was now a testament to her relentless trek. She remained tight-lipped, clearly trying to keep a neutral expression. Whenever Leliana turns back and smiles at her or provides a witty quip, Octavia's back straightens a little, she forces a strained smile, she willed her breathing to steady.
Alistair looked at their other companions who have built up a sweat and are covered in the grim, their bodies are slumped but none as drained than Octavia. He jogged up to her position, passing Morrigan as she threw a sideways glance to him, and falling in step with the blonde. Octavia straightened her back and held her head higher when he fell in line with her. She looked up at him with curious eyes.
"The sun is going to set. We should make camp and discuss where we intend to go first."
Octavia looked around to the other party members and sighed. She supposed Alistair made a good point and she was exhausted, she called out to the two heading the travel and motioned for Morrigan to join them.
A clearing off the road was found by the group, on the edge of the lake. They began to lay bedrolls and create a fire, the embers flying in the air. Alistair maintained a subdued flame, wary of its potential to attract unwanted attention. Sten insisted on securing the perimeter, wary of enemies. Morrigan sets her camp and fire on the other side of the clearing, wary of her companions. Leliana began making supper for the group, nothing fanciful. She stares down at the map of Ferelden, the momentous decision of where to proceed seemingly falling to her.
Leliana eyes Octavia from her place in the camp. Her portion of the soup was left untouched despite the fact Leliana was sure the other woman was hungry from the journey. The small woman sat bent over a map for the past hour, not making it out out her armor. They barely settled into the camp before the blonde began to stare and panic. Leliana supposed being without her comrades in arms set Octavia in a purgatory state.
Leliana decided enough was enough and headed for the other woman, intent on getting her away from the map. She extended her hand, her fingers lightly brushing the edge of the map. "Come, join me for a bath in the lake. The water is cool and refreshing, and the moonlight dances on its surface. It's a perfect night for a little relaxation, wouldn't you say?" Octavia glanced between her and the map on the ground in front of her. Leliana's eyes held a mischievous glint as she continued, "I promise you, the map will still be there in the morning, but this moment is a gift from the Maker. Let's not waste it."
Leliana lathered the soap over the other woman's back, being more through than may be necessary.
Octavia stares into her reflection of the lake water, her blue eyes staring back at her and the sparkling reflection of her engagement ring mocking her as she wrung the water out of her hair. Her stomach felt knotted as she stared back at herself. Her dusting of freckles reminding her of the castle children that most certainly lie dead. Her nose that she received from the woman who died defending a man that already died on his best friend's blade. The spitting image of her father, a man betrayed and left to die by his daughter. Everything her parents gave her and everything they sacrificed for her and her brother, she cannot disappoint them by not fulfilling her duty.
But Maker did she want to. She's not even sure what her duty here is, what does being a Grey Warden mean? Who is she?
"So, Leliana…"
"Yes?"
"This vision of yours…."
Leliana grimaced at the ground. "I knew this would come up sooner or later." Leliana sighed as Octavia twirled around to face her. "I don't know how to explain, but I had a dream… In it there was an impenetrable darkness… it was so dense. And there was a noise a, terrible, ungodly noise. I stood on a peak and watched as darkness consumed everything… and when the storm swallowed the last of the sun's light, I… I fell and the darkness drew me in." Octavia smiled sympathetically and motioned for her to turn around.
Octavia began to lather the soap on to Leliana's back. "So you dreamt about the blight. And you chose to do something about it." Octavia took a deep breath. "That's admirable."
Leliana continued to talk about her vision, but Octavia could only think about the courage Leliana had. She left her life behind, everything she's known, to follow the command of the Maker.
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."
"Leliana, can we take watch together tonight? I find myself in need of your assistance."
"Take a deep breath," Leliana instructed with a reassuring smile. "Focus on your target, and let your arrow fly."
Octavia took a deep breath, her grip on the bow tense but determined. Her face contorted with effort as she strained to pull the cord back. Her arms quivered with the weight of the task, and beads of sweat formed on her forehead. The bowstring felt like an unyielding force, resisting her attempts to fully draw it back. She released the string, and the arrow sailed through the air, landing far from the target - a makeshift bullseye caved into a tree on the edge of the camp.
Leliana offered encouragement, "That's a good start. But let us try again. Remember to steady your aim and release the string with a single finger, using your hand will shake the it quickly, to avoid getting caught on the string."
Octavia nodded, her brow furrowing in concentration. She took another arrow, knocked it, and with a look in her eye, she lost the arrow. This time, it hit the target but far from the bullseye.
Leliana smiled kindly, "Excellent effort. Archery is a skill that takes time and practice. Your strength and spirit are undeniable, and with time, your aim will become true. Let us continue to practice, and you will improve, I have no doubt."
They practiced long into the night, arrow after arrow flying, missing or narrowly missing the target until Sten awoke for his watch.
Octavia found herself standing in the midst of an ancient graveyard, surrounded by towering tombstones. The moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow that illuminated the twisted branches of gnarled trees. The air was heavy with a chilling mist, seeping into her bones and making her shiver.
Whispers drifted on the wind, ghostly voices murmuring secrets she couldn't comprehend. Shadows danced and writhed across the graves, taking the form of restless spirits longing for release. Octavia's heart pounded in her chest as she ventured deeper into the cemetery, her steps echoing ominously in the silence.
Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the graveyard, swirling leaves and petals into a cyclone of colors. The air became heavy with the scent of decay and forgotten memories. From the ground, skeletal hands clawed their way out, grasping at her ankles, as if trying to pull her into the abyss.
Octavia broke free from their icy grip, only to find herself standing on the edge of a bottomless abyss. The ground beneath her trembled, cracks forming like a spider's web, threatening to swallow her whole. She teetered on the precipice, her body filled with a paralyzing fear as she fought to maintain her balance.
As Octavia desperately tried to escape, the nightmare twisted and warped, hurling her into a labyrinth of distorted mirrors. Her reflection stared back at her, distorted and monstrous, mocking her every move. She tried to look away, but the mirrors multiplied, trapping her in a maze of mutilated and ghoulish images of herself.
Time seemed to lose all meaning as Octavia stumbled through the mirror maze, her thoughts consumed by a maddening cacophony. Each mirror showed a different version of herself—a ghoulish figure overtaken by the taint, a soldier with a darkspawn sword through her bleeding torso, a lost soul found in the depths of the Deep Roads. The fragmented reflections taunted her, stripping away her sense of self.
Octavia, her chest heaving, found herself catapulted forward out of her haunted mind. Her body was drenched in sweat, shivering from the night air nipping at her damp skin. A cold, wet nose pressed against her cheek, her eyes shifted around landing an a mabari snout in her face.
"Bad dreams, huh?"