Full summary: After Queen Anora had taken the throne, the mage Solona Amell, decides to leave Denerim, never to return again, because of the memories that it harbors for her. But when she receives a letter from a companion, requesting her return, does she feel the need to come back to the beginning of her nightmare.

The idea for this came from my original play through, and the need to see more closure from the ending that I received. Hopefully you will enjoy, and please be aware that this is my first fan fiction.

Alistair/Amell eventually, but, that won't be until a little later :).

Suggestions and reviews are always appreciated and welcomed!

As always, I do not have any legal rights to these characters, or the original work....blah blah blah... and I am doing this only for my own appeasement and fun and not for profit.


Chapter 1

A Written Invitation

Solona walked with purpose over the snow that covered the road toward Denerim. It was winter in Ferelden; a cold, harsh place, an environment that it would be suggested not to traverse too far if one could avoid it. The wind blew hard around her, cutting easily through the light woolen cloak that she had draped over her worn and soiled robes. The white, crisp snow crunched beneath her heavy boots as she marched onward through the desolate landscape toward her destination. The sun had went down quite a few hours before; the only light to guide her was that of a gently glowing spell wisp that she had summoned, giving an ethereal halo to the darkness that surrounded her. Snow continued to fall as the wind buffeted against the mage. Never did her foot steps falter nor did she think of turning back from whence she came.

As she walked down this road, she could see a few lights of small villages that danced between the flakes of snow that blew with the wind. Denerim was at least two hours away from her, but she pressed on, never giving a second thought to stopping at one of these small hamlets for the evening. She could have easily sought refuge from the wintry storm at any one of these places. She was well known throughout the land. The Hero of Ferelden, or at least the living one, and she could stop anywhere and people would eagerly invite her into their home for the evening. To have someone as exotic as she, a mage, a grey warden, a hero at their dinner tables, would be a great honor.

She remembered, that it was not that long ago that those same people would have shunned and feared her for the powers that she wielded. And now, as she traveled throughout the land, they would stop and beg her to come and talk with them, insisting that she tell them stories of her great accomplishments and heroics. Every time that she would be accosted by such a layman, she would politely, but curtly, tell them that she had other business to attend to and that they should seek out minstrels if they wished to hear a fairytale.

She continued down the winding path, pausing every now and again, only to readjust her cloak to help protect her from the elements and to attempt to keep her dark blonde hair within the cowls of her vestments. Although the trek was harsh, she was not unaccustomed to this type of travel, as she had been doing it since she had left Denerim so many years before.

It had been over five years since she had been declared the hero of Ferelden. Over five years since she had walked out of the royal palace of Denerim, into the throngs of adoring people who only wished her good tiding and fortunes of the Maker. Over Five years since the nightmare of Ferelden had finally ended, and when her nightmare began.

These were the thoughts that swirled around in her head as she traversed the road. So furious she had been during the coronation. There had been so many things that had upset her during the event; from the incessant music, to the self-pious nobles and even the tone in which the Queen spoke to her, all of these annoyed her, but none of these were the reason that she had left. It was the simple fact that nothing was said beyond a half-hearted dedication to the true hero of the day that had helped her make up her mind about leaving for good.

She traveled quickly, in silence, the only noise that of the howling wind around her. She traveled lightly, carrying only her staff and a small bag with rations and lyrium potions. She found it advantageous to not carry too much with her, allowing her to readily pack up and move if the need arose.

The distance seemed to pass quickly as Solona could see the lights of Denerim dimly coming into view as she moved through the blustering weather. Up until then, she had given no thoughts on leaving, but once she saw the tall walls of the city, her resolve began to falter, taking every ounce of willpower that she had in her small frame to not turn around right then and go elsewhere. She had purposefully avoided this place for so many years, along with any other place in which she may run into her old companions. Now, she was finally returning, because of a single letter from Wynne, asking for her to come and that it was urgent. No other information had been added to this missive, only that it had been sealed with the mark of the royal court at which Wynne served. Although her sense of duty was making her come back, she had no real desire to do so.

Although it had occurred quite a few years ago, her memories of those events still played vividly in her mind, as if it were a tragic play that she had seen just a few hours before. For her, it was a bad dream, a nightmare, one that she couldn't quite wake up from. It had been bad enough that she had just lost the one man that truly loved her for who she was, but to add insult to injury, no one even made mention of what they had together. To Solona, this was their way of denying its existence altogether.

Walking through the desolate streets of Denerim at night brought back all of these memories, and the emotions that went with them. She remembered forcing herself to smile when Queen Anora presented her with the title "Hero of Ferelden", feigning joy and happiness, if for no other reason than to save face in front of the judging nobles that had congregated. The queen didn't mention anything about about him, nor had Solona really expected her to, and she could be forgiven as she too had to make an impression on the nobles that she was now ruling over. She did, however, expect more of her companions, her friends, that she had been journeying with up to that point.

Zevrahn had been as coy as ever, asking her only of her future plans, hinting at that he should stay a part of them. Oghren, who had been drinking, spouted about how he was going to try and fix his broken relationship with Felsi. Sten had very little to say at all as per his usual self. Even Leliana, her friend, her confidante, only praised her for her heroics and oozed happiness over her own soon to be excursions that would be taking her to lead an expedition to the Urn of Sacred Ashes.

Only Wynne had even mentioned him to her, and it was mostly in passing. They had both been raised within the Circle, cut off from the rest of society. Even though they never really knew each other during their time there, Wynne best understood what it meant to be scrutinized all her life, to be constantly feared by the people of the world, for a power that none of them had chosen to have. She should have had the best understanding of what it meant and how important it was to find someone who loved her for what she was, who embraced her wholly and who was not afraid of her magic but actually enamored by it. But even Wynne, it felt, had been against her as well.

It was for these reasons that she had actually left, electing to travel the world alone. Not because condolences were not said, but because of what those missing words implied: She didn't belong with him.

Her mind continued to mull over these images and thoughts as she made her way through the market and down the side streets toward the residential district of Denerim. Every step closer made her wish that she hadn't come in the first place. Just when she had almost convinced herself to turn around, she found herself standing in front of Wynne's small house. Through the first story window, Solona could see the flickering of flames coming from a fireplace and a white haired woman, turned away from the window, sitting in front of it.

Solona gave a heavy sigh, steeled herself, and rapped the head of her staff against the door.