DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of Bioware's original characters from Dragon Age: Inquisition.

I don't want to die.

That was the thought that consumed Shaesa as she forced one foot in front of the other. She hadn't expected to survive her encounter with that monster—Corypheus—nor had she thought she could escape that avalanche. She had all but resigned herself to be a martyr, and in a split second had managed to save herself by jumping into that cave. And in that survival, she had been reminded how much she didn't want to die.

"I will not die," she said through chattering teeth, drawing her leather coat across her front more firmly to protect against the dying wind. She struggled to lift her feet in the snow drifts, grateful that she had allowed the advisors to talk her into these human clothes, thankful she was wearing knee high boots instead of having frozen bare feet. Solas must be rather cold by now.

Solas. That fascinating man. What she wouldn't give to have one more discussion about the Fade with him. He had seemingly endless knowledge on the subject. And beyond that, he was…pleasant to be around. Certainly she felt threatened by his intelligence, and the fact that he constantly seemed to prove she wasn't as smart as she thought, but somehow it didn't bother her as much with him.

A sudden gust sent her coat edges flapping open again and reminded Shaesa of her painfully cold body. She couldn't feel her fingers. She was fairly certain one of her wrists was broken. There were bruises and cuts that pained every part of her body. "Creators," she gasped. "Or Andraste. Maker. Whoever is there," she whispered, feeling a bit ashamed of adding that. "Please, don't let me die."

She trudged on.

The camp had been made. Frightened people were wandering around carrying firewood or blankets, lost but pretending they had some purpose. Solas turned his back on the scene, staring back the direction they had come. This had not been anything he could have foreseen.

The idiocy that had been displayed by such an intelligent girl—Shaesa's choice to stay behind at Haven to allow them to retreat haunted him. He should have volunteered to do it himself. But time and age seemed to have made a coward of him. She can't have survived. He could have saved her life.

He should leave. Before anyone noticed him, realized what he was, what he had done. Without Shaesa, he wondered if the Inquisition would be able to defeat Corypheus. He had to think of a new plan. He needed to leave.

"What is it with you elves?" Solas managed not to jump at the sudden voice and looked behind him to see Varric walking up the slight hill to where Solas was standing.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked stiffly, placing his hands behind his back formally, concentrating on keeping his face neutral and not giving away the inner anguish he felt.

"Well, is brooding just an elfy thing?" Varric asked as he came to stand beside Solas. "I had a friend back in Kirkwall—Broody. Always had a scowl, always off in his own thoughts that no one could possibly understand."

"I assure you, Varric, I am not 'brooding.'"

"No, you're just standing off by yourself, ignoring all of the rest of us. Not at all broody." They were both silent for a moment. "You think she could have made it out?" Varric asked.

Solas's heart beat painfully with guilt. "I have no way of knowing," he said. "I could search the Fade, but if she is dead, she will not be there. And if she is alive, I should think she's smart enough not to go to sleep in the middle of the frozen mountains."

"Fair enough," Varric grunted. "You care about her, don't you, Chuckles?"

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Oh come on. We've all seen the way you look at her."

He paused to gather his thoughts before speaking. "The Herald is a remarkable, brave, and intelligent young woman. I certainly admire her spirit."

Varric smirked. "You don't think she's dead. You just put her in present tense, not past. You think she's alive."

Another brief silence. "We can only hope," Solas finally said quietly.

Moments later, they heard the commotion coming from camp.

So…cold…

Shaesa struggled to put one foot in front of the other without falling. Her staff had been flung far from her in her fall into that cave—she wished she had it to use as a walking stick. She tried for about the twelfth time to summon some fire to warm her, but no success. She was too cold, out of mana, and she specialized in ice magic anyway.

Idiot…should have learned about fire…could have used that…

She wasn't going to make it much further. She was so tired. Perhaps she could stop and rest for just a minute.

No, I have to…keep…going….

Everything around her was getting blurry. Her body had almost given up on shivering to keep itself warm. She had to keep moving if she wanted to stay alive.

But I'm not. I'm going to die.

She took one more step, then one more. And then she saw over the top of the hill. A camp. A large camp, with fires and tents and Inquisition colors.

By the Creators…

She stopped in shock and that was all it took for her legs to give out beneath her and she fell to her hands and knees, the pain in her body dulled by the extreme numbness from the cold. No, I can't die now! she thought, even as she felt her vision going dark, eyes sliding closed. And then, as if far away, she heard them.

"It's her!"

"Thank the Maker!"

Shaesa forced open her eyes to see Cullen run towards her, throwing off his own coat as he skidded to a stop and fell to his own knees beside her. "You're safe, Herald," he assured her, wrapping her quickly in his feathered coat. "You're going to be fine."

She tried to answer him, but couldn't. Her eyes were sliding shut again, against her will, pure exhaustion and cold overtaking her. The last thing she could remember was hearing Cullen yell for healers.

Solas and Varric made it back to the camp just in time to see Cullen carry Shaesa in. She looked even smaller than normal, wrapped in the commander's large coat. "She's freezing and injured," Cullen said to the mage healers who had come running. "We have to help her, now!"

Shaesa was lain down on one of the cots near the fire, and a few mages hurried over to take stock of her injuries. Solas stood off to the side in shock. She was alive. Barely, but alive. What creature was she to be able to survive such an ordeal? To survive an encounter with Corypheus, an avalanche, and to hike miles and miles in the snowy mountains, injured and alone, and to find them?

Cullen saw Solas standing off to the side, staring. "Solas, can you help?" he asked.

Solas glanced at the commander, snapped out of his shock. "I…healing is not my specialty, but I shall do what I can to assist," he said, stepping in to sit stand at Shaesa's bedside.

He heard Varric and Cullen talking behind him now. "Shit, Curly, you think she'll make it through this? She looks…pretty banged up."

"She's not going to have survived all of that just to die here in the camp. Not if we can help it," Cullen replied firmly. "Lavellan is a fighter, that's for damn sure."

Solas found that he, for once, agreed with the commander. Shaesa was certainly a fighter. She would never give up when things got tough.

Warmth. She was actually warm. That was the first thing Shaesa really took notice of as she started to wake up. The feeling had returned to most of her extremities, and though she still ached a bit, she was not in nearly as much pain as she had been.

Her eyelids were still so heavy. She tried unsuccessfully to lift them twice before they finally fluttered to open. "Hey, Chuckles," she heard from beside her, and a chair creaked.

Shaesa turned her head to the side to see Solas seated beside her, with Varric standing beside him. "Well, look who's alive," Varric commented, his face smug and relieved at the same time. "You had us worried there, Icicle."

Solas cast Varric a somewhat astounded look at the nickname, but Shaesa managed one very quiet laugh, which hurt her chest slightly. "Icicle, huh?" she murmured. "I was wondering when I'd get a nickname."

"Just had to find one that suited you," Varric told her. "Icicles are sharp, you're sharp. And frozen."

Shaesa chuckled painfully again and tried to raise her upper body to a sitting, or at least more reclining position, but Solas's hand on her shoulder stopped her, at the same time taking her hand in his other. "Herald, you must rest," he told her. "You have been through quite the ordeal in the past several hours."

His hand remained holding hers. Shaesa took a moment to take that in, and how strange, yet right, it felt. "You're still here," she finally commented. "I thought you might run, when things started to look as precarious as they did."

"I told you I would stay," he reminded her. "I meant that I would stay."

"Oh, it really did have nothing to do with me then, did it?" she murmured, so quietly she was fairly certain the two at her side could not even make out the words. Her eyes were sliding shut again. "I might sleep a bit more. I'm fine really, just tired."

"Right, we understand, Icicle. Don't we, Chuckles?" Varric asked.

"Of course," Solas agreed. "Please, continue to sleep, Shaesa. The camp will not leave until you are better."

Shaesa nodded, a barely-there smile flitting across her face. He didn't seem to notice, but he was still holding her hand as she fell back asleep.