"Bad dreams, huh?"

Octavia pushed her loose blonde locks behind her ears, sliding her arms down her neck and quickly pulled them back when she felt the sweat on them. She wrinkled her nose and wiped them on the rough tunic she was forced to borrow from Alistair. She looked over to the sound of his voice. He stared at her from his spot by the fire, the embers flying past him, the look of pity in his eyes.

"It just seemed so real…" She shook her head.

Alistair glanced at the ground, his hurt ached for this girl. She went from a prominent noble family to a vagabond in a matter of days, and now here she is. A Grey Warden, against her will without the order to guide her. "Well it is real, sort of." Her eyes turned to him, the fear and confusion glazed over her eyes. "You see, part of being a Grey Warden is being able to hear the darkspawn. That's what your dream was. Hearing them. The archdemon, it… 'talks' to the horde, and we feel it just as they do. That's why we know this is really a Blight."

Octavia stared wide eyed back at Alistair, her heart hammering the more and more he reveled.

…we feel it just as they do…

Her breath staggered as her vision began to blur. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

… a Blight.

Her steps pounded the ground as she made her way to the tree line. She leaned against a tree as the bile burned her throat. She bent over, her breath ragged, and lost herself. She felt strong hands come up behind her and pull her long hair back as she began to retch.

Alistair held her hair out of her face as she heaved. He wasn't sure of what to do, no other recruit had reacted this way in his time in the Wardens. He wasn't around for long but the Wardens before him and the ones recruited since had been battle hardened veterans or had competed for recruitment. He guided her to the edge of the lake, just past the tree line, and sat her down.

The cool air from the water helped just as he said it would. "Alistair…" His eyes watched her carefully, truly afraid if he wasn't careful, he could break her. "What changes about you after the Joining?"

Alistair slips curved up into a small, wistful smile. "You know, I asked Duncan this, too, once and all I got was 'You'll see.'" He handed her his water canister.

Octavia furrowed her brow. "He wouldn't tell you?" She took a small sip of the water.

He chuckled a little to himself. "It's not that Duncan wants to keep it a secret. It's just that the Grey Wardens don't discuss it much. I gather it's not a pleasant topic." He paused to think about it for a moment. "Let's see, the first thing I noticed was an increase in appetite, I use to get up in the middle of the night and raid the camp larder, I thought I was starving!" She smiled politely, staring at the water. "I'd slurp down every dinner like it was my last, my face covered in gravy. When I looked up, the other Grey Wardens would stare… then laugh themselves to tears!"

She laid back to stare up at the sky, and he followed suit. The stars almost hid the blight threatening them.

"Then there's the nightmares. Duncan said it was part of how we sensed the darkspawn. We tap into their… well I don't know what you'd call it. Their 'group mind. And when we sleep, it's even worse. You learn to block it out after a while, but at first it's hard. The nightmares are supposed to be worse for those who join during a Blight, some people never have much trouble, but that's rare. Others have trouble sleeping their entire life. They're just more sensitive, I suppose. Everyone ends up the same, though. Once you reach a certain age, the real nightmares come. That's how a Grey Warden knows his time has come."

Octavia stilled, swallowing around what she was sure was becoming a permanent lump in her throat. "'His time'?"

"Oh that's right. We never had a chance to tell you that part, did we? Well, in addition to all the wonderful things about becoming a Grey Warden, you don't have to worry about dying of old age. You get thirty years to live. Give or take." He rolled over on his side, propping himself up with his arm to look at her. "The taint… it's a death sentence. Ultimately your body won't be able to take it. When the time comes, most Grey Wardens go to the Orzammar to die in battle rather than… waiting. It's tradition. You'll always find darkspawn down where the dwarves are. The oldest Grey Wardens head to the Deep Roads for one last glorious battle. Not that there's a shortage of Darkspawn during a blight but that's the tradition. The dwarves respect us for it. And you wondered why we kept the Joining a secret from the new recruits! There you have it." He dropped back down on his back.

Octavia stared at the stars in the sky. Remembering the way her mother would sit with her when she was young in the window when she was sick and help her identify the continuations. Her brother as a child wouldn't let her look at 'his moon', and would only let her stare at Satina. The nights she would sneak off with Dairren into the gardens to stargaze and dream. How easy it was for her to ignore the ritual and forget where she was. "I never wondered," her voice was breathy and quiet. "Seems a high price to pay."

"I suppose it is. We're the only ones who can stop the Blights, however. Is there a price too high to pay for that?" His own memories flooded his own mind. Duncan, the man who saw potential in a stable-boy, bastard child. The Grey Warden who plucked him from the shadows of insignificance. Duncan believed in him when no one else did, offering a chance to be a part of something bigger. "You know Duncan started to hear the nightmares again. He told me that - in private. He said it wouldn't be long before he'd go to Orzammar himself. I guess he got what he wanted. I just wish it had been something worthy of him."

She looked over at him, this large, broad, six-foot mighty Grey Warden looked so small at this moment. "Do you want to talk about him?"

"You don't have to do that. I know you didn't know him as well as I did."

She reached over and grabbed his hand, a small bit of comfort. "That doesn't mean I don't care, he was clearly important to you."

He hesitated for a mere second before it came flowing out. "I… should've handled it better. Duncan warned me right from the beginning that this could happen. Any of us could die in battle. I shouldn't have lost it, not when so much is riding on us, not with the Blight and… and everything. I'm sorry." She gave him an uneasy smile. She pulled her hand back to herself and interlocked her hands on her stomach. "I'd like to have a proper funeral for him. Maybe once this is all over, if we're still alive. I don't think he had any family to speak of. I suppose he did. It probably sounds stupid , but part of me wishes I was with him. In battle. I feel like I abandoned him. Of course I'd be dead, then, wouldn't I? It's not like that would make him happier. I think he came from Highever, or so he said. Maybe I'll go up out there sometime, see about putting up something in his honor. I don't know."

Octavia wondered what would be left of Highever after this, after she had taken it back from the traitorous hands it rested in. What would be left for her to govern over and how she would have to do it at all without her father, or Fergus or… Dairren. "I believe we can arrange that."

"Have you… had someone close to you die? Not that I mean to pry, I'm just…"

She went stark still. The question hung in the air, her heart beat hammering in her ears as the stars stopped adding some small amount of comfort. She blinked back tears, she was starting to get a headache from all her fallen tears .

Alistair looked over at her silence. He furrowed his eyes in confusion, until it finally dawned on him. He shot straight up, reaching out but afraid to touch her. "Oh, of… of course. How stupid of me to forget. Here I am going on and on about Duncan and you… I'm so sorry."

She shook her head, refusing to let the tears fall. "Thank you for the talk, Alistair." She stood, idly brushing the dirt from her tunic, and made her way back to the camp.