A/N: Hello, fellow Dragon Age enthusiasts and wonderful readers of fanfiction!

I would like to take this opportunity to remind everyone that I do not own Dragon Age or any affiliated IPs. I just thought it would be fun to do something for NaNoWriMo this year and I'm a fangirl.

This is my first delve into the Dragon Age fanfiction universe, so, any suggestions are always appreciated! I love to hear the perspectives of other fans either via message or through the reviews!

Thank you for taking the time to read my story! I hope that you all enjoy!

Chapter One

Aveline awoke to a strange pain in the back of her neck. She remembered...falling. And, then, there was simply nothing. She was afraid to open her eyes. She was afraid to even try to move. What if she couldn't? What if she discovered she was broken beyond her own repair? She knew some healing magic, but hardly enough to make a shattered back whole again…

She felt tears well up in her eyes as she continued to lay in the cold snow. She missed Dorian and Solas. The older mages had tried to teach her so much more than her Circle training had seen her learn. She had been foolish not to take their studies as seriously as they had wanted her to. If they were with her, they could simply mend her back to a capable fighting form in an instant.

But, she couldn't risk their lives against an Archdemon. She had stupidly told them to fall back and had struck out on her own. She could still feel the hot breath of the arch demon on her face, feel the magic Corypheus held over the mark as he seared her flesh. It was by sheer luck that she had managed to reach the trebuchet, had managed to cut the ropes and create the avalanche that inevitably buried her here She had been foolish to think that a mage, a member of the most hated people in all of Thedas, could save the world.

She was a complete fraud. The Mark was magic. Simply magic. Old, powerful, even...but it was just magic. Something hated and feared. What would the people think when they realized she wasn't the Herald of Andraste? They would shun her. She would even be thrown back into a prison cell again. She would once again be branded an apostate, interrogated once more about the magic which was slowly threatening to kill her, eating her alive from the inside…

She moved her leg, realizing it was twisted beneath her and immediately felt the hot tears spring to her eyes. It was broken. She knew that pain. But, if it wasn't completely ruined, she had to get up. She had to keep fighting. She couldn't give up and die here.

The snow was biting into her skin, numbing the tips of her gloved fingers. She took a deep breath to steady herself. She wasn't a little girl anymore. She was a warrior, a mage. She was a member of the Ostwick Circle of Magi, a lady of House Trevelyan. And, even if the mark on her hand hadn't been granted by the Maker or by some higher authority, even if it wasn't a blessing...the mark -the Anchor, as Corypheus had called it- could still accomplish great things. She still wielded control over the Rifts.

And, most importantly...there were people who believed in her.

Had the Commander been able to get them out in time? Were the people of Haven safe?

Aveline could only pray they were. She knew the members of the Inquisition inner circle would protect them. They were in capable hands.

She took one more deep breath and clenched her jaw. She had to start moving. She had to drag herself up. She opened her eyes, steeled against the pain she knew was about to ricochet through her body, and rolled to her feet. She was lucky she was close to one of the walls of the small cavern she has been entombed in, or she might have fallen back to the ground. She had a hard time drawing in breath, a sign that left her certain that she had broken a couple of ribs. She steadied herself, watching the Anchor glow a bright, eerie green on the walls around her.

She remembered the combat training she had received at the circle. Assess the damage, she reminded herself, keep fighting. She focused her mind on the areas of pain, concentrating to try and identify how terrible her injuries might truly be. Her ribs were throbbing, a dull ache that she knew too well. A few of them were broken, or, at the very least, cracked. She didn't think any of them had dislodged or put her in danger of puncturing her lung. She felt herself almost bite through her lip as she ran a hand over the leather armor on her side. Yes. They were definitely fractured. But, still in place. She would have to be careful. Her head hurt, specifically the base of her skull. She knew the pain, similar to falling off a horse. She had hit it on something during the fall. In glancing up, she was certain it was one of the splintered, wooden rafters that were now covered in a thick layer of snow. She gently reached for the back of her neck through her thick, dark hair and felt it matted with blood. She would have to worry about that later. It was the least of her concerns. She turned her attention next to her legs. Her left leg appeared perfectly functional, but her right leg had a gash across her upper thigh. When she tried to put weight on it, she whimpered. Broken femur. If she was lucky.

She nodded to herself. It could be significantly worse. She could be dead. Or incapacitated. And no one would ever find her.

She just needed to focus on that. She was alive. That meant she had a chance to keep fighting.

She pushed herself away from the hard stone of the cave wall. It would be painful, and she wasn't even sure where she should be going, but this was better than staying still, dying of exposure or from attacks by demons. The small comfort she had was that, with all of her injuries, the pulses of the Anchor were now barely noticeable as it lit her way. She was able to limp at a relatively normal pace on her injured leg, something she was grateful for. If meant she wouldn't be slowed down by the pain. The hope that the Inquisition had gotten out of Haven safely would keep her going.

Maker willing, she would find them. She wasn't sure where her plan would take them after that, but, she would find them.

Maybe you'll surprise it. Find a way…

The Commander's voice whispered to her. She could see the concern in his eyes as she bid him farewell, a goodbye she had fully intended would be the last she would ever grant Cullen. She could have sworn he didn't want to leave her. Her gentle urging had kept him from staying.

She was pretty sure that any of her advisors would give their lives for the cause. They were all good people, devoted to the Chantry, most of them.

She stumbled, trying to put too much weight on her leg, falling to the cave floor. How had they fallen into her leadership?

She realized then that the cave had opened up, revealing a large split in the path. She paused, her breath causing a large cloud of steam to rise in front of her face. How was she to proceed? She could keep pressing forward, but that could take her deeper into the caves, leaving her even more lost. But, taking any of the side paths seemed a be less clear and harder to traverse. She could even see large banks of snow down one of the offshoots of the large opening. She sighed, exasperated. Of course, it couldn't be that easy.

With her injuries, she would benefit more from simply taking the path straight ahead. She wouldn't have to do any potential climbing or risk finding a dead end. It wasn't worth it to risk shifting one of her ribs and accidentally killing herself, or permanently crippling her leg by trying to drag the practically dead weight through a snow bank. She wrapped her arms around herself, hoping it would preserve some amount of warmth in her body. The movement was helping, but she needed to get out of the cold soon.

She took a step forward, trying to balance her weight. The loud crack that met her ears was not comforting. Aveline glanced down, ever aware of her movements. Ice. She was standing on what she hoped was a frozen lake. She took another furtive step forward. She just had to get across the room. That's all she needed. She would be safe as soon as she hit the other embankment . She just had to get there. It would be fine. She could do this. She might be completely useless magically without her staff, but she knew how to survive and she still had most of her magic, if she needed to risk using it. She would be fine. Completely fine. And soon, she would be wrapped in a giant fur that she was sure everyone had waiting for her, eating something warm and having Solas heal her wounds.

Her hand spasmed, the green magic shooting out of her hand toward the sky. She screamed, collapsing to the ice. When she caught her breath, she stumbled back to her feet. "A Rift?" she looked confused at the green, crystal prism that had formed above her. She barely acknowledged the demons spawning around her in her confusion. They wouldn't simply ignore her. She panicked and threw her hand toward the Rift, hoping she could disrupt the energy flowing to the demons long enough for her to escape.

But, that was far from what happened. When she tried to open the Rift wider, as she had in the past, it didn't disrupt the energy to her enemies. Rather, she watched as they cried in what appeared to be a mix of pain and anguish as they were pulled back toward the emerald in the sky. She was reversing the Rift. It was something she had never done before, never even thought to try. Was this because of Corypheus? Had he done something to the Anchor when he had tried to take it from her? Accidentally charged it and given her more power? His attempt to steal its power had inadvertently made her...stronger? Somehow?

Breathless and flustered, Aveline decided not to question it at the moment. She had more pressing concerns. Such as whether there were more Rifts here below ground. Making it to an Inquisition camp also was ranking highly on her list of priorities and should probably been at the very top if not for "self-preservation" and, the newly added, "avoid demon hordes at all cost".

Aveline quickly rushed across the lake, moving as closely to a sprint as she could muster. She made it across, stumbling through the large, ornate doorway on the other side, before she saw the light breaking through an opening in the caverns. She sighed her relief. With any luck, this was the same way the Inquisition had passed through. Maybe she wasn't far behind.

Even as she walked into the snow storm, the cold wind biting her face, she was grateful. Off in the distance, she could see a fire, still burning, though there was no sign of anyone near. She carefully trudged toward it, each movement through the snow making her legs numb as she sunk deeper and deeper into the fresh snow. The snow blinded her and she could barely see where her next step might land. She approached the fire, hoping that she could at least warm herself for a few moments before continuing on her path. She was anxious when she saw the fire was a burning wagon, some of the wood still barely touched by the flames.

Any casualties that happened at Haven were on her conscience.

The sight of the wagon made her feel ill. She was unsure if the people of Haven still lived, if there had been many casualties. She didn't even know what path she should take down the steep mountain slopes.

"Andraste guide me," she whispered to herself. There was no other option but to keep going. She had to remind herself that it was possible that the Inquisition was not very far ahead of her. They had to move a large amount of the faithful through the tunnel system. She was only one person. Injured, though she might be, it was likely that they were still close by.

The longer she climbed down the peak, however, the more she was sure that she would be lost to the Frostback Mountains. Her body ached and her pace slowed. She wanted to rest, but she feared that it would do her no good. She risked freezing to death at this point. She could barely move her legs through the snow. It must have been hours when she saw the remains of a watch fire. The embers were still warm, even in the fierce snow storm.

Just a little further, she urged herself, warring with the fear that she would never be found beneath the snow. She started to climb over an embankment, dragging her right leg now. A few more steps and the Inquisition would be in front of her. Surely…

Her foot caught beneath the snow, bringing her down into the new blanket of white. She wasn't going to make it. She couldn't move anymore. Her body was wracked with chills as the snow soaked through her armor. She had to give up now. There was never any hope for her. Herald of Andraste. She was no leader. She wasn't even special. She was just a mage.

"There she is!" She heard Cullen's voice over the howls of the wind and her own heartbeat in her ears. She felt someone pulled her out of the snow, gently pulling her upward. She clutched at their armor, desperate for warmth, her shaking hands digging into the cloak they wore.

She looked up at her Commander, desperation filling her eyes. "Please...don't leave me," she whispered, her numb fingers deftly trying to hold onto him. Her vision was too blurry to see him clearly or to identify his reaction. She feared this was the final burst of strength that she might have.

Strong arms wrapped around her, cradling her gently against his hard chest. "I won't," she heard the promise whispered to her, as gently as if he were speaking to a child. Her fingers relaxed, her entire body finally giving up. She was safe. They had found her. She didn't have to fight anymore. She could give up now. She could finally sleep.

A/N: Reviews get a quote! Hopefully I can keep up with this for the month and we can see extremely frequent updates!