She was slipping. She was a newborn fawn, her knees crashing through a thin layer of obsidian ice. The cold water cruelly cut at her legs and she scrambled to hold onto the surface of the vast, endless frozen lake. Her fingernails quickly became torn and bloodied as she fruitlessly tried to climb out of the water.

"Let go."

Solas' voice echoed through the cold void.

Freezing water crept up to her throat. She couldn't feel her legs anymore.

The elf appeared before her, looking grand in an elaborate outfit with swirling elven designs.

"Let go."

His voice was sickly sweet and kind, like a hunter luring a kill.

"Let go of what?" she gasped, coughing as she inhaled some of the icy black water. Her jawline dipped below the water.

Solas extended a hand. Diana clawed at it, grabbing it with her left hand as her right arm hoisted her body up onto the ice. She collapsed onto her back, coughing out spatters of dark liquid; she couldn't tell if it was blood or water. There was an eerie silence.

Solas was still holding onto her left hand.

Although she tried to tug it from his grasp, it seemed his fingers were digging into her flesh. They bit just as deep as the icy water.

"Let go," Solas said, looking at her with a strange expression. Pity, maybe. Or incredulity that she hadn't figured something out in time.

"Let go of wh-"

"Of everything." He smiled a smile she had never before seen on his face nor on any other face. It twisted, impossibly large and curving so high upward into his cheeks that if he had opened his mouth she imagined it would have split him from ear to ear.

His free hand rose and when he gently tapped her captive hand, her arm exploded into a thousand glowing pieces of gold and emerald and they burned hot on her face, sizzling and she heard screaming and a deep rumbling in her chest that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

Diana jerked in her bed, her forehead slamming into the wall that her small bed had been pushed up against. A stream of nasty curse words escaped her mouth as the door to her room was gently pushed open.

A sweet face appeared in the doorway. Fresh-faced and kind, Rosalie Ormiston was the innkeeper (along with her husband, Alec) at the small Ferelden town of Holmfirth, which was just south of Redcliffe. There was a concerned look on her face as she noticed the blooming bruise on Diana's forehead.

"Are you alright? Another nightmare, Lena? I heard, uhm, screaming..."

Oh, yes. The fake name. Every time Diana heard it she felt like cringing; Rosalie and her family were good people and didn't deserve to be lied to… and yet when she had first stopped at the Owl Roost Inn, she had given them a fabricated name. Well, not entirely fabricated… she had claimed her last name was Ward, which was her mother's maiden name. So that technically wasn't a total lie, right?

Diana probably could have gotten away with using Trevelyan as her last name; she was so far into Ferelden she doubted people from this small village would have recognized the name of the Inquisitor. It had been nearly three years since the defeat of Corypheus and almost a year since the dissolution of the Inquisition. People moved on.

Except Diana.

"I'm fine, I'm sorry," she muttered, putting fingers to her head where she could feel a lump already beginning to blossom.

Rosalie looked at her, hesitant and unconvinced. "I'll bring you some elfroot," she said, her face setting into a stubborn expression that Diana had come to know very well. The golden-haired woman turned on her heel and shut Diana's door as she exited, no doubt going to fetch some of the promised elfroot.

The (former?) Inquisitor squeezed her eyes shut for a second, considering going back to bed. Even with the nightmares, sleeping was still better than being awake… but falling asleep seemed to take entirely too long nowadays. Some nights it eluded her altogether.

After a moment, Diana opened her dark, almost coal-colored eyes. Even with her window shuttered, sunbeams were still piercing into her room. The birds outside of her room seem to be encouraged by the sunshine and Diana could hear the dripping of melting snow onto the roof if she listened hard enough.

Spring was coming to Holmfirth and everyone seemed to be invigorated by it. A time of renewal, of awakening, of growth. A tiny spark of hope bubbled up nervously into Diana's chest. Maybe…

No.

Spring was here, but it was not for her. There was no escaping the looming darkness in the corners of her vision, there was no hiding from the void that had wormed its way into her chest and eaten away at any feelings she once had for anyone or anything.

Spring was passion and hope and green things rising anew from the dark soil and she was the cold and she was an endless, desolate winter with no promise for a sunrise.

Diana - Lena - whoever she was now - pulled the blanket on her bed up over her head. She didn't even bother closing her eyes beneath the blanket; she knew sleep wouldn't come to her now that these thoughts had dug their way into her mind. I can't, I can't, I can't, she found her mind chanting over and over.

"Oh, are you sleeping?" Rosalie's voice floated in from the door, which she must have quietly opened. There was a pause and then the door creaked as it opened the whole way. The blonde was suddenly next to Diana, pulling the blanket off of her head and thrusting the elfroot into her hand. "Get up, lazybones. It's beautiful outside and I need help taking the cart to market."

Diana sat up obediently, pushing herself off of the mattress. The linen sleeve of her left arm dangled loosely, rolled upon empty space. She patted the elfroot onto her forehead bump, leaving it feeling prickly.

"Wooden or metal?" Rosalie questioned, bustling over to the hooks behind Diana's door where two identically sized arms were hanging from leather straps. One was simple and made of stained wood and the other was gilded in gold with embossed designs swirling around. Rosalie didn't even give Diana time to answer, just lifted an arm from the hooks and sounded bored as she said, "Let me guess: wooden."

"How did you know?" Diana asked flatly. She meant for it to come out as a joke, but it fell humorlessly upon her lips. Rosalie ignored her tone.

"Because I know you," she answered simply.

Another pang of guilt. No, you don't know me. My name isn't even Lena. You have no idea who I am or what I've done and what I've seen or who has died because of me. "True," was what she managed to say instead.

"When are you going to let me fix you up with one of the men in town?" Rosalie asked, dunking a washcloth in the water basin on Diana's dresser and passing it to the former Inquisitor.

She rubbed the remnants of sleep from her face and placed it on the back of her neck, enjoying the cooling feeling. "When are you going to stop asking?" Diana retorted. Rosalie gave a small, barking laugh.

"Gotta make this old thing look better with a big emerald ring on it," she suggested, waving the wooden arm around. Diana rolled her eyes and Rosalie again laughed, moving to fasten the prosthesis onto the remnant of Diana's arm.

For the next half hour or so, Rosalie gave Diana gentle orders and she obediently followed them. Her hair was brushed, teeth cleaned, bed made, and the innkeeper even set out a soft green dress for Diana to wear. "You're getting a lot faster at the buttons," she remarked, watching Diana fasten up the front. "Soon you're going to be doing everything yourself and I can trick you into doing all the errands for the inn and I'll just relax here at home, off of my feet and being pampered."

"You ruined it by telling me your evil plan," Diana said, her eyes rolling slightly. Rosalie laughed.

"Nothing gets by you."

They returned to the Owl Roost Inn hours later, both walking alongside the cart as it was now overflowing with goods. Sweet onions and carrots and big slabs of wrapped raw beef and stuffing for new mattresses and pillows were bursting from it but the strong donkey pulling the cart, Fred, seemingly had no problem with the large load.

"Thanks for carrying the eggs," Rosalie said for what felt like the thirtieth time, motioning toward Diana's right hand which was clutching the handle of a basket.

Diana just nodded, unwilling to become annoyed at the excessive thanks. Rosalie was sweet. She made every effort to include Diana in everything. Instead of treating her as a guest at the inn she treated her more like a family member.

Sometimes, though, it became too much; Diana had only once accepted Rosalie's offer to eat at her family's dinner table and that had been on Rosalie's birthday… but that didn't stop Rosalie from inviting her every single night. Nevertheless, Diana humored the innkeeper most of the time, accompanying her on small outings or doing chores with her around the inn.

Rosalie was good company. She didn't ask questions. She didn't ask why Diana had scars on her body or daggers in her pack or why one of her prosthetic arms looked grand enough for a queen. She didn't ask where all of Diana's money was coming from nor did she ask why she woke up screaming most nights.

"Thank you," Diana said as they entered the inn through the side door that led to the kitchen. It was warm inside and she let the warmth from the crackling fire wash over her. Rosalie took the basket from Diana, carefully sitting the basket of eggs on a countertop as Alec began to unload the cart.

"Thank you? Thank you for what?" Rosalie asked, looking slightly suspicious.

"Thank you for… this," she said awkwardly, motioning in a general sort of way. "Making me… do things. Have a routine. I… appreciate it."

Rosalie glanced at Alec, who had come in with a bag of onions over his shoulder. "You're not leavin', are you?" he questioned, his deep voice worried.

"No, I'm just-" Diana began.

"Oh, good," Alec said, relieved. He sat the onions down by the cellar door. "I'd hate for you to leave just before our big feast. Rosalie's family is coming by for a little reunion; her brother has been traveling around for a while and is finally coming to visit."

Diana frowned. She had met Rosalie's brother before. His name was Branson and he had come by a few months ago to introduce them to his newborn son. "Traveling? Did he leave his wife alone with the baby?"

"Baby? What baby?" Rosalie asked, looking very confused.

"Oh, you're thinkin' of Branson," Alec said after a moment, with a little chuckle. "No, this is her brother you haven't met yet. His name is Cullen. You'd best be around when he visits; I imagine he'll have some fun stories to tell. He was Commander of the Inquisition, you know. One of Inquisitor Trevelyan's advisors."