Note: Chapters 1-6 have undergone a light edit (content remains unchanged, just reads better!).

Sorry for the delay—had to rework part of the upcoming plot as it didn't fit.

Also if anyone is wondering about Leliana's eye colour- it's a creative headcanon on my part, as in the dim lighting of Dragon Age Origins they always looked greyish to me, but I do know they're more blue.


Yara let out a breath, resting her head against the cell wall. The chill of stone had become something of a comfort now; her only distraction from the overwhelming thoughts. She wasn't sure how many days she had spent in darkness, nor did she care. A deep weariness had settled within, and she had all but given up. Lahara's words beckoned, but such advice was nothing against the torrent inside. No matter how Yara tried, she always returned to the same place. The twisted nightmares would not leave, and she'd become too afraid to let her eyes close. Even when sleep did claim her, it was never for long, and did nothing to bring the peace she craved.

How could she possibly move forward when the chains of the past held so tightly?

Absently she rubbed her side, tracing the scar that until now she'd never thought twice about. It was ironic how a mark that had brought her so close to death had ended up saving her. Yet while its origin remained a mystery, Leliana's reaction had said it all. The horror that poured from her grey-blue eyes, her stammered words, how quickly she had switched from brutal interrogator to concerned lov…

Yara severed the thought before it would finish. No, it was a lie; another trick to make her confess to a crime that might never have even happened.

So why then had the Left Hand's voice struck so keenly? Why had her questions provoked such violent flashbacks?

Why did the name Elissa Cousland suddenly terrify her, as if…

Faint steps caught Yara's ear. She blinked, retreating into her folded arms. It was probably Bethany again. She'd lost count of the number of times the mage had visited, begging her to come out, but Yara's answer was always the same. Bethany just couldn't understand. No-one could.

The steps halted. Yara watched the corridor, catching a shadow on the tiled floor. It remained there for a while, deliberating whether to turn back. Eventually Yara heard a pained sigh, and the footfalls continued. The shadow approached, but it was not Bethany that stared down at her. Instead a grey-blue gaze looked back, and Yara's eyes widened.

Her hands started to shake, and she looked away. Even then that agonizing longing surfaced, and she grimaced. Why did her feelings twist like this? This was the woman who'd forced her to abandon her life as a Warden, who'd broken her mind and spirit, yet Yara's heart still cried out, wanting

"Yara?" Leliana's voice was hesitant. She stepped to the bars, and Yara shuddered. She backpedalled to the furthest corner, her breaths coming faster. Hadn't the Left Hand done enough?

Leliana froze. The silence stretched on, and at last Yara dared to look up. The spymaster's eyes were glistening.

"Please, I…I just want to talk."

Yara didn't answer. More than anything she wanted to run, to never hear that Orlesian lilt again, but she did not have the strength. She could only sit and listen.

Leliana took a breath. She was not at all the aloof interrogator she had been before. Her shoulders were slumped, her mask of steel shattered. She knelt outside the cell, letting her lilac hood flop down. Her fiery hair mirrored the torchlight, vibrant and warm. She sat motionless, gathering her thoughts.

"I know it…must be hard," she said at last, "not recalling who you were before." She reached around her neck, unfastening a clasp. A bronze chain coiled into her palm, and she clenched it tightly. She pressed it against her chest, then tossed it inside the cell. It jingled, landing beside Yara. "Do you recognise that?"

Her curiosity stirred, Yara plucked the chain from the straw. It had no pendant, but bore a silver ring. A coat of arms had been engraved onto the agate stone; one that seemed familiar. Yara ran her finger over it, and her mind rippled. Hissing, she tried to fight the rush of memory, but it was too late.

I catch my breath, gazing at the fortress doors ahead. The last barrier between us and the Archdemon. It has taken a lot to get here. We pause but for a moment, taking precious minutes to ready ourselves for the final assault. I wipe my brow, and something pinches my finger. The Cousland ring remains upon my hand, as it has done since I took revenge upon Howe. Yet for some reason it stirs hesitation. As if it no longer belongs with me…

My eyes scan the darkness, soon finding her restringing her bow. I approach, and grasp her shoulder. She startles, but quickly flashes a smile.

"May I call a favour?" I ask.

She nods. "Of course."

Removing my gauntlet, I pull the ring free and offer it to her. She stares at me, brow raised.

"Your family ring?" Her voice trembles with uncertainty. "Are you sure?"

"I would not offer otherwise," I answer. I cannot understand why my feeling has changed, but I know that I must not be the ring's keeper any longer. "I know you'll keep it safe for me."

Her eyes narrow. "Surely you're not…"

"I am only preparing for the worst, should it happen," I reply. "Once this is over, you can give it back and mock me for melodrama."

Her smile returns. "That is a promise, Elissa."

The present came rushing back, and Yara almost choked on her own breath. Her hands shook, barely able to keep hold of the ring. That damned yearning, seizing every muscle, a choke-hold of compulsion she could not break…

She threw the ring aside, as if the very metal burned. At once Leliana shot to her feet. She ripped open the cell door, and Yara's scream caught in her throat. She threw her arms over her head, her pulse ignited.

"S-Stay away!"

Leliana gasped, and the air fell quiet. Yara squeezed herself tighter, her shaking uncontrollable. Leave me, her mind pleaded. Maker above, just leave me!

Finally a quiet sob broke the silence, and Leliana turned away.

"You truly…don't remember…" She bent down to reclaim the ring, cradling it in her hands. "Does the Maker take joy in such cruelty?" She no longer fought to hold back tears. "I gave everything to serve Him, and I am rewarded by losing Justinia and having you returned to me…like this…" She clenched her eyes shut, her fingers clamped around the ring. "The one wish I had above all else, and it turns to dust, just like everything else I touch!"

She ran from the cell, leaving the door ajar. Her steps faded, and silence returned. Yet even with her presence gone, Yara couldn't stop her tremors. Agony rumbled between her ribs, and it was not just the maelstrom of piercing fear. A boundless craving also pressed upon her, making it so very hard to breathe.

An angry lump rose in Yara's throat, and she clenched her fists. How could that woman hold this much power over her?! All it took was a single look, a single word, and she was reduced to this. A prisoner of her own mind, taunted by meaningless visions, pinned under the impossible weight of feelings she couldn't control…

Something rattled through the corridor, breaking the storm. Yara jumped. She shrank into the shadows, shivering, her fingers tangled in her matted hair. She could not face another encounter, not now. The cold clawed at her clammy skin, and she could barely snatch her breath. Then the torches started to flicker, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Something was happening outside. Teeth clenched, Yara curled into a ball, almost hoping the memories would take her first.

Suddenly the torchlight vanished, and Yara was left in total darkness. Her heart thundered, battering her ribs so hard she thought they would break. Although blinded, she could still taste the scent of mana, and her blood went cold. But already her thoughts were slipping, a whirlwind of images threatening to flood through. Yara snatched at her temples, and a howl escaped her lips.

"No, please, no, no!"

Won't you stay with me, little girl?

The air shuddered, and a blast of icy wind hit Yara's face. Her eyes snapped open, blurry with tears, and her jaw hung slack. The darkness was no longer complete. An ember of green light had appeared in the corridor, summoned from no-where. It hovered for a moment, then erupted into life. The jade glow was blinding, and Yara shielded her face, colours spots dancing in the blackness.

A horrifying shriek echoed beside her, and she screamed. Plastered in sweat, she bolted to the other side of the cell. There she could only stare as the Despair demon emerged from the ground. It cackled, cloaked in rags and bathed in the sickly light. It reached out a skeletal hand, a hungry grin on its shrivelled face.

Such a banquet you hold inside! Its very breath froze the air. You heart and mind are overflowing, and your anguish is exquisite!

Yara covered her ears, but the deathly voice penetrated through.

I see everything, the demon taunted. All you know is loss. All you are is loss! Your home, your family, your friends, even your forgotten lover! You have nothing left!

"S-Shut up!"

All that could have saved you lies within a past you can never reclaim…

"I…no…you're…"

You are trapped, the demon hissed. That past will forever hold its will over you. You cannot deny it!

"No, no!"

And you will never escape it!

The Despair demon lunged, and Yara cowered. However, as she awaited the claws that would rip her apart, the creature suddenly screamed. Blistering heat tore through the chill, and Yara's cheeks flushed. Moments later a hand came around her shoulders, pulling her out of the cell.

"Move already, Yara!"

The voice of the Herald broke through, enough to let instinct take over. Yara scrambled from the smouldering straw, coughing on the smoke. She crawled out and crouched behind Lahara, who stood beneath a tangled star of green light. The Despair demon floundered in the cell, trying to douse its flaming rags. Lahara braced her staff, another fireball readied.

You will pay for interrupting my feast! the demon challenged, sending out a flurry of icicles. Lahara spun her staff, sending them straight back. As the demon dodged, she removed a sheath from her hip and tossed it to Yara. Yara caught it, recognising the leather strap. It was her own dagger.

"Hope you still know how to use it," Lahara said, as the demon floated out of the bars, white mist escaping its mouth. "Send this one back to the Fade. I've got to close the rift!"

Yara could only nod. She swallowed, dark thoughts never far, but she forced herself to acknowledge the present. The rush of blood in her ears, the freezing air, the taste of mana on her tongue, the Despair demon's pained moans…she let it all sink in, and she unsheathed her dagger. The roughness of the leather-wrapped hilt set her muscles alive, and she fell into a familiar grip. Suddenly nothing else mattered except her and her opponent, and her lip curled.

You cannot face me! the demon mocked. Your very presence gives me all the strength I need!

It let out a savage breath, and a bolt of ice burst from its lips. Yara darted left, and it shattered against the wall. Lahara rolled aside, her left hand glowing with the same green light as the rift. The demon spread it arms, and the bars and floor crackled with ice. Still Yara waited, and for the first time her anger outmatched her despair.

Fool, the demon rasped. You think a weapon in your hand will banish your fears? Your hand still trembles, hesitant, weak! You will never move forward!

Yara scowled, and broke into a charge. The Despair demon met her with its claws. Its frozen breath burned her cheeks, but she fought through and caught its wrists. The cold seeped deeper, chilling her bones, but it was useless against the inferno boiling inside. Yelling, Yara crushed the demon against the wall, snapping its jaw. Her dagger followed, and she rammed the blade into its neck. Once, twice, three times…she lost count, the sickening crunch a balm to her ears. The demon writhed, blackened blood pouring from the wounds.

I-Impossible! it cried. Your heart is still screaming, still weeping, still bleeding!

"Then be drowned in it!" Yara screeched.

You…You think…you can…silence…me?! The Despair demon clutched at the dagger, trying to wrest it free. Yara snarled, driving the blade deeper, severing its windpipe. The demon gasped, its final breath snatched away.

You…cannot…deny…your true…nature!

Finally it crumpled, and Yara pulled her dagger clear. She sank to her knees, breathing hard. At the same moment, the rift behind started to crackle. Lahara grimaced, fighting the tendrils of energy that joined her left hand to the web of light. Her brow was soaked, but her mismatched eyes were determined. Slowly, the ever-expanding tangle began to recede. The green crystals withered, and the glow dimmed. Lahara grunted, gathering the energies, then tore her hand away. The rift shattered, and the air fell still once more.

Lahara let out a breath, shaking her left hand. She glanced to Yara, and gave a satisfied nod.

"Nice one." She slung her staff across her back, then flexed her fingers. "So, bet that surprised you, huh?"

Yara's brows narrowed.

"Was this your doing?" she asked, her tone low.

"Andraste's grace, I wish!" Lahara scoffed. "I can't even open a jar of honey, let alone a Fade rift." She raised her left hand. "Closing them, however, has become something of a speciality of mine." Her cheeks flushed, and she rubbed the back of her neck. "Apart from the big one right above our heads, of course. But these little ones can come from no-where. It was lucky I sensed it in time, otherwise it could've gotten…messy."

Yara closed her eyes, recalling the demon's taunts. It had spoken aloud all the thoughts that haunted, and even now her chest felt cold. If the Herald hadn't intervened…

"But you still came through when it mattered," Lahara went on. "Seems there's some fight in you yet."

Yara hung her head.

"I don't know," she whispered. Channelling fear to anger had helped, but it had been so short-lived.

"Pfft, don't give me that!" Lahara scoffed. She strode over, and clasped Yara's shoulder. "You might've thought you were ready to keel over, but you didn't let that demon have the last word. You still wanted to live." She paused. "And everyone knows the sound of true despair is silence."

Yara's eyes widened.

"When all hope is lost, and there is no will to fight anymore," she murmured, reciting the rest of the quotation. It had been the defiant words of a Warden-Commander, not long before her sacrifice that ended the Fourth Blight. Words Bethany had often repeated during their long exile; words that had offered comfort when they had been so far from friendly faces.

"Ah, thought you might recognise that one," Lahara smirked. "Your mage friend is rather fond of it." Her smile faltered, and her tone grew serious. "She misses you a lot, you know. She's been praying every day, and Maker knows she's been reading every book we have, trying to find something to help you."

Yara clenched her teeth. "I never asked…"

"Do you honestly believe she wants your permission?" Lahara said, cutting her off. "Look, I sort of know where you're coming from, but I think you've had enough space to mull things over. You can't sit here forever. Plus you were able to defeat the Despair demon, after all. That's got to mean something, right?"

"Why do you care?" Yara muttered, folding her arms around herself.

Lahara's eyes flared. She grabbed Yara's collar and dragged her forward.

"Because I didn't ask for this, either!" She shoved her left hand under Yara's nose, revealing the strange mark that had sealed the rift. "And just like you, I don't remember how I got it, or why." Her words struck, and Yara gasped. "So stop pretending you're the only one with the world on their shoulders. You're not that privileged."

She released Yara, who held her hand to her mouth.

"I…" She bowed her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise…"

"Well, count yourself informed." Lahara let her hand drop, then gestured to the corridor. "Now, kindly stop wallowing in enough self-pity to drown every halla in a fifty mile radius and get out of here. Maker knows you must be tired of the décor, and the catering's not great, either."

The Herald pushed Yara before she had a chance to answer. Yara staggered, almost falling, but quickly regained her footing. The next step was easier, and soon she was keeping pace with Lahara. The dingy cell fell behind, and Yara sighed. As they ascended the stairs, the fresh air hit her, and she clenched her fist.

Like it or not, it was time to face the world again.