Numb.

Her toes were numb, her fingers were numb, her nose was numb, and so were her ears. She hadn't trudged through snow this thick since the last time she was here, and that was before the Landsmeet. The cold was seeping into her boots despite her three layers of socks, and her poor mabari, Barkspawn, was up to his stomach in snow. She sighed, looking up at the sky; the light was starting to dwindle, turning into a fuzzy haze, and the darkness crept out of the edges and crevices of the mountains, stretching toward her slowly.

But she was close now, close to the old Warden Keep.

She finally walked under the portcullis, but found nobody in the yard; Levi and his family must have called it a night. She didn't blame them; it was a bitter night, with a wind chilling the air considerably. She climbed the steps, and pushed the heavy oaken doors open; they creaked loudly as they shut behind her. She stamped the snow off her boots, and brushed Barkspawn down. He shook, spraying her in cold droplets, and she shooed him away with a groan. He bounded down the corridor happily, seeming to know exactly where she was heading.

They made their way to the back of the Keep, across the old stone bridge, and into the tower. She pushed open the doors into the study, and took stock of all the changes made since her first and last visit. There were piles of books on the cabinets, vials and mixtures were scattered over the work tops, and the old mage himself was scribbling away on some parchment at the back of the room.

"Afternoon, Vernie!" she shouted cheerfully.

He turned his wrinkled head and regarded her with a small smile. "Greetings Neria. I had heard you stopped the Blight; very good."

She chuckled. "Yep!" she couldn't help but add, "Took the final blow myself."

His eyes bulged momentarily and then he frowned. "And how did you survive, I wonder? Not blood magic?"

"Some might call it that," she teased.

His brows arched and his eyes glistened like pools of water in the sunshine. "Sounds interesting," he croaked.

She grinned. "Before you get any ideas I can't help you replicate it; I wasn't even really involved," she said as she absentmindedly flicked through one of his dusty old tomes.

"Tell me what you know, at least," he said attentively.

Her tawny eyes gleamed at him. "Well, there was this witch in our group: Morrigan," she began.

Neri went on to explain more about Morrigan, and the Dark Ritual that the witch had offered her; she explained how Loghain had slept with Morrigan to produce a child, and that he had died anyway, leaving Neri to take the final blow.

Avernus watched her silently, his intelligent eyes focused completely on her words.

She had come here wanting answers, not just to tell him a story though. "I can… sense the taint flowing through the veins of Wardens now," she said nervously. His eyes widened for a moment before returning to their usual saggy state. "It freaked me out at first, but I'm used to it now, or at least I know what Arietta and Alistair's taint 'feels' like." She shrugged.

"You can sense mine as well?" he asked curiously.

She nodded her head feebly. "Rustling leaves," she blurted. He gave her a puzzled expression. "That's what yours 'feels' like," she explained, her hand rubbing her neck.

He hummed. "Let me take a blood sample, if you please."

She sighed, slightly exasperated. "I'll have no blood left to give, the amount you take each time! What do you do with it all anyway? Drink it?" she scoffed as she pulled off her vambrace.

He chuckled. "There's little benefit in drinking another Warden's blood, unfortunately."

She stared at him. "I hope you're joking."

He smiled and motioned for her to sit. He placed a flask under her arm and made the incision. Her blood started to run into the flask, and Avernus watched it intently.

She looked around the room awkwardly. "Okay, starting to think you're not joking…"

He guffawed. "Fear not. I won't drink your blood; at least not in front of you," he said darkly, but there was still a smile tugging at his wrinkled old lips.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You have an odd sense of humour. I like you."

He let out a huff of decrepit laughter. "You'd be the first in a very long time," he said more seriously, a hint of melancholy in his withered voice.

She twiddled her thumbs. "So, figured out a cure yet?"

He scowled. "No. The taint is a fickle mistress. It would help if I had Wardens to experiment on, but that's frowned upon," he sniped bitterly. Arietta had forbidden him from using any unethical means to conduct his work.

"I'll be going to Vigil's Keep soon; if there are any Wardens I don't like, I'll send them to you." She smirked.

His blue eyes sparkled once more. "So, tell me about the Archdemon."

She explained the battle of Denerim: Arietta leading the armies, taking back the city gates, their killing of the darkspawn generals. Arietta heading to the Palace to rescue Alistair, who had foolishly stayed behind after refusing to work alongside Loghain, while Neri headed to Fort Drakon, and finally the dragon's eventual death, at her hands. Avernus seemed interested, but she wasn't sure if he was just being polite so they weren't sitting in silence.

With the flask finally full, he dabbed her arm with a few drops of a health poultice and she bandaged it up. He moved quietly to the back of the room and began tinkering with bottles, potions and powders. She sat awkwardly on the chair, swinging her legs and humming to herself like a child might do.

"Were there any other changes?" he murmured curiously, his back still to her as he worked away.

She thought for a moment. "Well, there was the blood magic I used recently…"

"The spells I taught you?" he asked, but didn't turn to face her.

"Yeah, see, I used that blood fury spell on the Archdemon, throwing blood in its face to stop it eating me." He looked at her with an amused expression. "And that worked all well and good, obviously," she indicated to her entire uneaten body with a smirk. "But later this Templar assassin tried to kill me, and I killed him with the blood…"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "How so?"

"Well… it strangled him, I guess? It snaked up his body, and I filled his lungs with it."

Avernus craned his head to the side pensively, but gave no other indication of his thoughts, and then he went back to his flasks and potions. His shoulders looked tense, and she realised something must be wrong.

"Avernus?" she asked quietly.

He didn't answer, so she hopped down onto her feet and padded over to him cautiously.

"Avernus?" she said again, fear making her sound squeakier than usual. "What is it?"

Avernus glanced down at the beaker in his hand and grimaced.

She moved next to him and glared at him. "Well?" she said impatiently, her hands tapping on his worktop.

He sighed, the breath seemingly deflating his entire body, his shoulders sagging, and his back arching. "The taint in your blood is much more advanced than it should be for a Warden as new as you," he explained.

She swallowed thickly and frowned at him.

He pointed at several beakers. "These are samples from three different Wardens, and yourself," he explained.

She ran her eyes across them; they ranged from bright red to almost black.

"These are Arietta's and Alistair's," he said pointing to two bright red beakers. "This is your old sample," he said lifting a darkish red flask. "Magic tends to make it a little darker," he explained. "This is mine." He lifted a near-black flask up. "And this is yours now…" He pointed at a very dark red jar.

She gasped. "That – that can't be right?"

"Indeed, and yet, it is," he hummed thoughtfully.

She shook her head, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. "How did this happen?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps it is the Ritual's magic? Or the blood magic in your veins, or maybe just simply touching the Archdemon's soul briefly did this to you? I do not know."

She sat down hard on a chair and stared at her palms. "What – what does this mean for me?" she almost whispered.

He rubbed his wrinkled head. "Blood this colour typically comes from Wardens who have been in the Order fifteen years or more."

She gripped the chair to stop from falling from it.

"I fear you may have less than fifteen years before your Calling," he revealed softly.

She whimpered, and steadied herself again as nausea overwhelmed her senses.

He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she pushed him away, rushing to stand on unsteady feet. "You – you can fix this? You can reverse it, cure it!" she said, fighting back tears. He started to shake his head sadly. "There must be something you can do!" she said desperately.

He stepped toward her. "I will try but –"

"There's a shorter deadline now, where there wasn't before, and you might not get it done in time?" she guessed bitterly.

He nodded grimly.

"Fifteen years…" She shook her head angrily.

"You will be a very proficient Warden now though, older Wardens can distinguish the different types of darkspawn from their taint alone, you already mentioned being able to sense other Wardens too, and your blood magic will only get stronger," he said, trying to lighten the dark mood that had settled over her.

"But the nightmares will only worsen, and then I'll have to go to the Deep Roads, alone, to die." She swallowed, nearly choking as her throat constricted.

He nodded. "There are ways to prolong life…"

She scoffed, her ochre eyes seemingly spitting acid at him. "I won't do what you did," she snarled.

He sighed. "Very well."

She wiped a tear that had broken the barriers of her eyes. "Even if you can't cure me, you need to find a way to cure Arietta and Alistair of their infertility. They need an heir, sooner rather than later."

"I will do everything I can," he replied as he eyed her sympathetically.

"See that you do." She turned to leave. "Good night."

"It's late; shouldn't you stay the night?"

She laughed bitterly. "What would be the point? I won't sleep."

She stormed out of the Keep with Barkspawn at her heels.

It was pitch black by the time she made it down the mountain, and the faint glow of her purple dragon staff was the only thing lighting her way. It was only as the ground turned back to hard dirt ground that she realised she was off of the treacherous mountain paths. She came to a halt and stared down at the frozen dirt, tears filling her eyes. She dropped to her knees, and Barkspawn nuzzled her face, so she pulled him into a hug, sobbing into his fur.

Her legs were aching when she finally pulled away from her hound and forced herself back to her feet. She desperately wanted someone to comfort her...to hold her. But she didn't have Zevran's warm embrace to run to; he was in Antiva chasing leads on Deon, and their relationship was…on hold. She didn't have Anders either; she and the healer had been close once, but he was still in solitary and she hadn't seen him for a year. She didn't have Arietta or Alistair either. She was alone. she clenched her fists, she had gotten herself through worse things than this on her own before.

She sighed, and forced herself to take a step forward, and then another; she would not mope around in the dirt. She was strong. She was a survivor. There was still hope; she would cling to that small comfort.

A/N: I have read other fics with similar premises, I think, but can't for the life of me remember what they were called (anybody know of any?) Hopefully my spin on it is something new though. Thank you so much for all of your reviews guys - I've never had so many regular reviewers, it's such a wonderful feeling. You are all entitled to a gift fic, should you want such a thing. I shall PM you about it. :) And of course thank you so much ElyssaCousland for just being an incredible beta. I adore you, my dear. Thank you all again, your support is so heart warming.