So I imagine there's no way the Inquisitor would come out of falling that hard out of the avalanche so easily.

I'm going to make my chapters shorter in hopes of getting more out for you all, as I'm in the full swing back into med school (ugh). I did really well on my behavioral med exam, so my reward is enough time to do a chapter! Yay!

Enjoy, loves. This is immediate post - In Your Heart Shall Burn

Guiding Light

She was falling through blackness, gaining momentum as she was buffeted about by unseen gusts of warm air – fire – twisting, evil tendrils reaching out, scorching her skin, whipping her. For the first time in her life, she was afraid of the element – the evil red flames poured forth from between the teeth of the giant dragon's maw. She attempted to slow her descent, only to find her magic gone.

She continued to fall, impotent against the flames that were perverse, intoxicating, burning as they engulfed her. Its smoke was gagging her, burning her eyes, making her cough and recoil in her horror.

A pure, clear light blazed in the darkness, the fire's evil tendril's shrieked as they recoiled, unable to penetrate its radiance. Relieved, she reached out to touch the light, outstretched fingers grateful and welcoming. Magic blazed through her when she made contact, the evils of the fire forgotten as the teal light filled her.

She awoke with a groan, eyes snapping open only to close instantly as the stabbing pain of a too-bright light pierced her eyes, causing blobs of color to dance across the backs of her eyelids. She rubbed her closed lids instinctively, fighting sudden nausea as the she felt the world swooping around her, making her both dizzy and lightheaded. She fought back against it desperately, having to swallow several times to calm her raging stomach. Controlling her nausea was all the more challenging as each beat of her heart made her head throb as the blackness swirled around her.

Her head felt fuzzy, dazed – she was…confused. What had happened? Had she fallen? She bit back her dizziness and thought. Yes….she vaguely remembered falling and hitting something large and unyielding. She didn't remember falling unconscious.

As she gained control of her vertigo, a sharp pain in her side made itself known, previously muffled by the disorientation of her waking. She removed a sheltering hand from her eyes and probed her ribs gently, yelping as her fingers reproduced the stabbing pain.

I must've…broken it…it's like when I fell out of that old pine tree…only the world didn't heave in upset around me. I feel like I'm drunk…

She grimaced, biting back another round of nausea as she took inventory of her body, her right hand rubbing her still tender eyes. She was cold, oh, so cold and her body shivered in an attempt to warm her, but the action only exacerbated her consummate soreness as she lay on the cold ground. Her chest ached horribly as it complained with each intake of breath, the pain of her rib distracting her as she breathed. Thankfully, her most prominent injury seemed to be that rib, although her right knee was also throbbing slightly.

She was becoming frustrated with her disorientation, made only worse by her pain and cold.

What…what was I doing…? She was vaguely aware that her inability to remember was a bad sign. Why…why do I feel like I should be dead..? I can't be dead…it hurts too much.

An old memory surfaced through the haze: she was swimming in a river as a child with her friend Lily. They were playing a chase game, hopping from rock to rock when Lily had slipped on some moss and fell…Arya still vividly remembered the crack of her head as it smashed against a rock and blood began to pool from her scalp as her friend tumbled into the rushing water. She shrieked instantly, screaming for help as she swam to her friend and frantically began to drag her from the water, the current carrying them both downstream.

One of the hunters had been nearby and managed to wade in, grabbing the bleeding girl from Arya and rushing to land. She watched, sobbing, as he stepped on Lily's chest and she vomited up the water that she inhaled. The hunter scooped her up in his arms and ran the short distance to where they were camped, calling for the Keeper.

When Lily awoke, she was confused, weary, and threw up a bunch. She tried to speak, but her words were gibberish and made no sense. Even with all of the Keeper's experience, Lily was never the same - she would spook easily and would say odd, random things. She became withdrawn, and only ever stayed within sight of the aravels.

Arya's guilt at the incident remained strong even to this day.

She tenderly felt her head, wincing at the pain in her ribs, shivering as her fingers brushed a cool wetness under her curls. So that must be it – she had hit her head….no wonder she was so disoriented.

Alright…you hit your head…now…where are you? Tried as she might, she couldn't remember…thoughts kept slipping away.

Falling through fire…an evil fire…I don't remember ever disliking fire before. A dragon…? Why would I be so afraid? There was…

The light!

She opened her eyes as she remembered, grimacing as the pain stabbed behind her eyelids again. She groaned. Oh, right…

"Too bright…" she muttered, fighting back nausea as the pain from the light throbbed in her head.

As if in response, she saw the light dim behind her closed eyelids. Curious, she opened one eye. The light made her eyes water, but the pain was tolerable, and she felt her head cock to the side instinctively at the odd sight.

A small, teal light was hovering in the air above her, the only thing she could see against the blackness. That's…strange…

It looked so familiar…

Eventually, she managed to open her other eye and she stared at it, trying to remember where it came from, why it felt so familiar, why she felt….safe by it being there.

Curious, she reached out to touch it, but it receded back from her searching fingers. She glowered at it, annoyed.

Come on…where are you? You can't stay here. It's too cold…you'll die if you don't get warm.

She allowed her to eyes to look past it, trying to see where she was, but the proximity of the light made her eyes unable to adjust to the pitch blackness around her.

She was beginning to grow frustrated, pain distracting her from her fuzzy thoughts as she tried to place where she was.

She was so cold…

She tried to call upon her magic to warm her, but it was out of reach, either from exhaustion or from her confusion. She frowned, genuine fear brewing in her heart at her predicament: she was cold, sick, alone, lost, and confused with no magic or means to get to warm.

What should I do…?

The light began to float away and she panicked – she hated the dark, and didn't want to be even more alone.

"No! Don't!" she called out, her terror making her forget her sickness as she sat up in alarm.

The instant she sat up, her stomach lurched as the world swooped around her and she quickly turned her head as she vomited. Each heave of her stomach was agony as her rib jabbed into her as her abdomen contracted. When she finished, she was shivering uncontrollably, and she brought her knees into her chest, grasping them close to her chest with shaking hands. She buried her head into her knees, willing the spinning to stop, willing the cold and the hurt and the terror of uncertainty to vanish.

She was terrified.

She began rocking backing and forth, hoping to generate some heat to abate her shivering. Come on, Arya…The only way you will get warm is to keep moving – figure out where you are.

"Where are you?" she asked herself aloud, voice breaking as she fought back her despair. She felt a beckoning tug at her heart and looked up to see the light floating in front of her face, almost…inquisitive…as if to ask why she wasn't moving forward. She glanced at her surroundings, gazing into the distance to allow her pupils to dilate to see in the darkness.

She could make out that she was in a cave, no lights save for that of her companion, with boards and dilapidated equipment at its periphery. No means of creating fire, even if she had any magic left to conjure one.

She stared at the light again as it hovered lazily in front of her. Her brows furrowed as once more, she reached out a tentative hand to it. To her delight, it floated down onto her palm so slowly, warmth filling her hand as its magic kissed her fingertips.

She felt the lurch of her sickness being drawn from her as images and emotions rushed across her eyes in rapid succession. Those that were unfamiliar to her.

Contentment - Her own face as she laughed, running her hands through long red curls as she shook her head in amusement, gazing up as her eyes sparkled.

Amusement - Her playing Wicked Grace with Varric by his campsite, her brows furrowed in frustration as Varric smirked wickedly.

Admiration - Her flying through the thick canopy of pine trees, crouching down on a large branch and smiling at the ground before she leapt to another branch.

Pride - Her face contorted with anger as she struck a Red Templar with a fireball, her fists clenched and shaking with rage.

Arousal - Her wet, naked form as she bathed in a stream, running a small bar of soap over her body.

Empathy - Her sad, emerald eyes, one still slightly swollen and purple from the fight with Alexius

Wonder – Her as she faced down a giant darkspawn mage, gesticulating as she yelled at the creature, left hand glowing green.

Anger – The disfigured mage extending an orb as he tried to rip the Anchor from her hand, magic flowing between herself and the ugly thing as she cried out

Fear – The creature grasping her left arm, holding her aloft as it sneered at her as she kicked uselessly, trying to free herself before being viciously flung into the trebuchet.

Terror – the approaching avalanche as it plummeted down the mountainside, followed by her form as it retreated and dove out of sight.

These were all accompanied by a familiar smell – campfire, sweat, lyrium, herbs. A man's smell.

She felt her mind clear as the memories faded from her vision and being, her confusion vanishing as the world finally stopped spinning. She was overwhelmed, her heart expanding as her arm remained extended, frozen as the magelight floated away from her to hover at eye level about ten yards away. Her eyes filled.

Solas…

She remembered everything now, Solas's magic somehow clearing her head. She had a new enemy to face…this Corypheus, and her people were trudging through the mountains as they fled the hopefully vanquished Red Templar army. If his magelight were here, he must've survived the avalanche.

He was guiding her home.

"Ma serannas, Solas." She breathed, grateful as true hope flooded her, fueled her.

She stood slowly, her right knee wobbling as it bore her weight, her rib still stabbing her. She grimaced, but followed his retreating magelight like it was a beacon.

It was slow going, as she kept slipping on the ice as her shivering, weak feet betrayed her footing. As she staggered and fought against gravity and her own pain, she distracted herself with the memories she had seen through Solas's light.

Had he meant to show her these things? Was he controlling the magelight now… or was it acting on its own? They must be true…she saw no reason or means for him to deceive her, if he was even aware of what his light was doing.

A crack in the floorboards of a small bridge gave way, unable to support her weight as she fell through. She grimaced and extricated herself from it, inhaling sharply at the new cut along her calf. The blood that dribbled down her leg was chilly in the cave's cold air. She gritted her teeth and kept moving, but began to pay more attention to where she placed her tired feet.

Had she still been under the influence of her head wound, her trek would've been impossible. She was having a difficult enough time navigating without the world spinning around her.

She had to stop to rest often, for the trek was tiring for her exhausted body, and if she let her breaths become too deep, the pain in her ribs would be unbearable. The blood from the wound in her hair had long since frozen, its coldness against the tender flesh of her scalp burning, leeching warmth from her head.

Slow and steady…just keep going.

She regarded Solas's magelight as it teasingly hovered just out of reach of her grasping, hungry fingers. How had he sent his light to her…? He must not be far away…else this draw on his power would be too significant for him to maintain it for this distance.

Did he do it to save her? Why? She felt his terror in his memories as the avalanche descended, but it seemed more than just a fear of self-preservation. Was he worried about what would happen to her?

He must care for me. I could see how I looked at him when we were alone. It's obvious I care for him. He has obviously paid attention to me…Why has he kept me at a distance?

She stopped again, shivering as she allowed her breath to slow, and tried once again to call her inner fire in desperation, but her attempts were in vain. She sighed, but took comfort that she'd be able to continue her pace if she continued to move slowly, her eyes locked on Solas's hovering magelight.

It continued to guide her through the windy, dank cave, amazed at the sophistication of his conjured familiar. Its light allowed her to momentarily suppress her pain, her cold as she hobbled forward, ever forward.

Eventually, she saw the glow of actual light as it illuminated the dripping, icy walls of the cave and her heart leapt. Had she the strength, she would've most likely run to its source in her joy.

Must pay attention…keep focused…you are doing it. Come on. Keep going.

When she emerged from the cave, the wind roughly threw her onto her onto her left side and she shrieked, curling in a ball in the snow, clutching at her ribs. Her clothes provided no protection against the biting wind even nestled on the ground, and she shivered uncontrollably for she was already so cold….so cold…

The magelight came to her, hovering above her. It beckoned, encouraging her to continue.

So…so cold.

But she did as it asked, knowing relief would only come from reaching her goal…

Or death.

She was glad Solas's light was with her, for she'd have had no way of knowing where to go – the world was a white landscape, the horizon obliterated from view by the storm. There were no mountains, no trees, just a wagon buried in the snow a short distance away. She started towards it, having to pick her knees up high to clear her bare feet of the snow.

Each step was agony, especially when she needed to bear weight on her right leg. Her ribs stabbed her with each step and breath, her legs and entire core shaking with exhaustion and cold. For the first time, she wished she had accepted the boots that Harritt had made her, for with each step, the snow came up between her toes, burning the tender flesh, leeching precious warmth from her body.

She kept her head down, fighting against the wind that threatened to blow her sideways again. She reached the wagon, but found no usable items, not even a blanket, and its broken hull would do nothing to keep out the wind. Sighing, she continued on, following Solas's guiding light.

Keep going, Arya. Keep going. Come on, you can do it. I know it hurts, I know it's cold, but it won't get better if you stop. Come on.

Time had no meaning as she trudged forward...it was just an endless repeating cycle of putting one in front of the other. Left foot, then right foot. Hold it steady as it wobbled. Left foot, right foot.

So…cold…

She fell over twice more, each time emerging more cold and miserable than before she fell. Numb, blue fingers brushed the snow from her clothes as she struggled to stand, unwilling to disappoint his magelight. She pinched the tip of her finger and felt nothing. Fright fueling her, she continued on.

She wanted to be there for her people, wanted to make sure Corypheus did not succeed, despite her want to give up.

Show that bastard what you are made of. Come on. For Solas. Don't let his work be for naught. Come on. You can do it.

She thought back to the images of her face through his eyes, they way his heart warmed as he looked at her, how his eyes traced her face, watched her hair as she brushed it with her small fingers. His eyes had found her so much, and his fingers ached to reach out and touch her.

He cares for you. You know have proof. Come on. You can't love him if you're dead. COME ON!

She almost stumbled over a campfire whose coals were unmercifully cold. She sighed as she continued, noting how each step cost more, hurt more, took longer to bring out of the snow.

So…so cold.

Left foot, right foot.

She was only vaguely aware of her surroundings, only noticing once that she was now amongst the trees. She looked up in confusion, but her body betrayed her want to suppress her fear.

There was only consuming cold and pain.

There was only Solas's smiling face, his magelight as it kept ahead of her, willing her to continue. And the mantra.

Come on, keep going. You must keep going.

Left foot. Right foot.

She had long since lost all feeling in her fingers, her arms hanging uselessly as she plodded on. Her legs began to shake unbearably. She had gained newfound strength when she came across a fire whose coals in the center were still slightly warm. She clutched at them, letting the pain of warmth burn as it bought time for her fingers, the tips blackened from the cold. Only when she had drained the coals of their valuable heat did she force herself to stand and continue. Willing herself to follow his magelight.

You must be almost there…come on.

Left foot. Right foot.

She fell three more times, each time finding it more difficult to rise, terror filling her when she almost failed to stand on each attempt, her shaking limbs rebelling against her. Her triumph was only ever short lived, for the cold was leeching the life from her, sapping her will and strength, slowing her pace.

Left foot. Right foot…her weak knee finally gave out as she fell forward into the snow, which puffed up in a white cloud around her.

This fourth time, she could not stand. The world was starting to feel warm and dreamlike, her head abuzz. She lay there, unable to even acknowledge the magelight as it hung above her head, calling to her desperately to continue. She was unable to recall why she was moving forward…why she was fighting against the snow and cold. It must've been for good reason.

Tried as she might, her muscles would not obey her. She lay there, her cheek pressed against the snow, feeling her life drain from her.

Get up…get up, Arya. You will die. You will die if you can't get up.

I…I can't. I can't move. She heaved with all her strength and could only manage to lift her head before it limply fell back onto the snow.

How strange….it seemed warm…everything felt…good.

Her world was filled with teal light - that bright, radiant light that saved her from the dragon's evil fire.

His light.

Solas…

She blacked out.

She awoke slowly as a familiar scent filled her. A smell of lyrium, elfroot, sweat, man….

"Solas…" she sighed contentedly. Death must not be so bad…she was warm and comfy, feeling safe in her furs. She turned her head with her eyes still closed, nuzzling the soft furs against her cheek before sighing again. She turned onto her left side, and grinned when the pain no longer stabbed at her, but she could tell it was still there. Everything felt surreal and light. Felt good.

Her thoughts were fuzzy, but not the debilitating kind she had endured when she had awoken before. It felt…more like a soft pillow was pressed over her mind, muffling all but the softest of thoughts, calming. She felt the pressure of a body sitting at the edge of her bed, which must be a cot by the way it creaked and groaned under the weight.

She tried to open her eyes, but couldn't muster the energy or a reason for which to do so. It was so warm in the furs…and she was so tired, so comfy.

She felt the pressure of a finger as it gently brushed her temple and stroked down to her cheek, and she leaned her head into it, smiling, for its scent was that of his.

She managed to convince her eyes to open, and they sleepily met those intelligent, steely blue ones, strangely soft as they looked at her. His hand moved up to brush a stray curl from her face.

"Am…am I dead?" she asked, her words slurred slightly as she held his gaze, unconvinced this was the real Solas. His eyes crinkled in a smile as she felt him chuckle softly

"No, da'len." He murmured. "Are you surprised?"

"Honestly, yes…" she replied, voice quiet. He smirked slightly, his palm resting against her cheek, the thumb stroking the soft skin gently.

"You gave us all quite the scare." He said quietly, his eyes searching her face.

"It's just…as I lay in the snow…everything started to grow warm and I felt myself…slip away. And I woke up and…" you were here. Her thoughts finished.

"You…you saved me." She said, her voice quiet as she felt her eyes fill.

"Yes." He replied.

She waited for him to elaborate, but he did not, his face unreadable.

"When I touched your light…I…I saw…" she felt flustered as her words drifted off, unsure of whether or not to tell him he saw her memories, whether or not he already knew.

The air between them was heavy, ripe with anticipation. The smile drained from his face as he looked at her, his eyes hardening with that familiar, distant determination as he withdrew his hand.

"You are tired…you should rest." And he stood, leaving her cot before she could mount a protest.

She didn't even have time to work through her confusion at his abrupt departure before the face of Mother Giselle came into view.

"Are you alright, child?" The kind Orlesian Mother asked.

"Herald?" Cassandra's relieved voice also joined in. Apparently Solas spread the news that she was awake, for the Seeker was accompanied by the three advisors.

She spent the next half hour in a daze as they explained the situation, apparently woozy from a pain drought that Solas had given her. He had tended to her himself with Giselle, for the Inquisition's healers were both exhausted and spent from tending to Haven's wounded. She was gladdened that he had cared enough to tend to her, noting that her ribs had been bound and her head bandaged, but was still confused by his sudden and hasty departure.

She found it difficult to concentrate as they spoke to her, and as the four leaders began to heatedly argue with one another, Mother Giselle had managed to firmly shoo them off, allowing Arya some much needed quiet to rest. She changed the bandage on Arya's head before crawling into an adjacent cot, asking Arya to awaken her if she needed anything.

Even with her thoughts buzzing with the recent developments, she was unable to fight her exhaustion as sleep claimed her.

Dawn found Arya nestled in the crook of a large tree overlooking the Frostbacks, wrapped in a large furry coat. She gazed numbly at the glorious rays of yellow and pink light of the sun as it began to crest over the snowcapped mountains. Had she been in her normal state of mind, she'd be awed by the sight. But not now.

She had managed to keep herself composed and gracious even as the people of Haven knelt before her, gooseflesh erupting across her body as they sang their hope to her, for her, because of her. She even kept her cool while accepting the congratulations and handshakes and the hugs of crying people, both men and women alike. Thankfully Cassandra had saved her, feigning that the "Herald needed rest" before guiding her back to her tent.

Arya had grabbed a coat and run out the back even before the tent flap had closed.

Her ribs screamed at her and her knee hurt, and she cursed herself for her flight. Luckily she had come across a large pine, and she climbed it eagerly, wishing her mad dash wasn't so easy to follow by the tracks left in the snow.

She took deep breaths, attempting to calm her racing heart as fear flooded her. It was too real…this couldn't be happening.

"Herald of Andraste" was a cute title and she allowed it to give those that followed her hope that she could close the Breach since she was "Divine"…but to see their hope manifested in such a real and intimate way…

It scared her.

She didn't like it at all.

She didn't want that responsibility. Couldn't have that responsibility. Didn't deserve that responsibility.

And yet….

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard the footfalls of a person who was used to moving silently. She looked down to see Solas approach, surprised as anger fill her heart when she saw him.

Anger at his games, at his push and pull with her. Only her preoccupation with her people's hymn distracted her from her distraught at Solas's rejection of her after discovering that he truly did care for her. Her frustration with it all manifested in full force and she scowled.

"Arya?" he called up to her, his voice concerned.

"Solas." She responded tersely, not even caring if she was rude. He didn't even have the decency to flinch, his calm exterior driving her anger higher. How could he be so damn calm when she felt herself falling apart, overwhelmed with the events of the past day.

"May I have a word?" he asked. She considered.

"Do we have to go somewhere?"

"Not if you do not wish to do so." He replied.

"I do not." She was being petty and she knew it, but his earlier rejection of her hurt all the more by its contrast with the reverence of Haven's people. Reverence she did not want. So she wanted him to make the effort to come to her.

She was surprised at the ease in which he climbed the tree, settling comfortably on an adjacent branch, wrapped in a warm fur coat. They sat and watched the sun rise together, not speaking.

"Are you alright?" He asked eventually, his voice kind. She felt her heart soften against her will.

"It's…unnerving." She answered earnestly, her want to speak about this most recent development honestly with someone who might understand outweighing her current anger.

"The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting. Her faith is hard won, lethallin, and worthy of pride." He responded in a voice she was unable to place. Was it sincere pride in her?

Her anger continued to simmer under her skin throughout their entire conversation in which he explained about the orb that Corypheus wielded. She paid enough attention to be able to respond intelligently, but she knew that he could sense her anger and her reason for it in the way his eyes betrayed a hurt at her uncharacteristic terseness.

But he kept his tone academic, distant, and she refused to bring up the subject of his want of her. Her own pride refused to give into it, although her anger and hurt remained strong. She recognized that if he truly did not care, he would not have sought her out – he would've waited until she returned to their makeshift camp to talk with her.

She eventually convinced herself that it would be futile to remain angry with him, and found herself genuinely curious in the solution that he offered the Inquisition…a place to which they could travel? Why had he not mentioned such a thing before? She had no interest in continuing the conversation along that line, however.

They remained silent after she agreed to his plan, but their eyes spoke volumes in a wordless conversation as she glared at him, wanting justification for his actions.

Eventually, his brows furrowed slightly in his guilt, and she accepted this as the only apology she'd ever get, realizing that no explanation was forthcoming.

As they climbed down the tree and walked back to camp, she noticed the great care he used to avoid touching her, walking a polite distance from her, almost distracted. She sighed and extended to her to the back flap of her tent, hoping she could grab a few hours' sleep before the Inquisition demanded anything more of her.

Just as she was about to enter, Solas surprised her by grabbing her arm, stopping her.

She looked at him, eyebrows raised, surprised at how uneasy he looked.

"Arya…I…" he rubbed the back of his neck, uncertain. She waited.

"I am...glad that you have returned to us." He said lamely to the snow beneath their bare feet, but she grinned at his attempt in spite of herself.

"So am I." She looked down, as well, embarrassed. "I...wouldn't have been able to without your help." Before he could respond, she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, trying to pour her feelings into the gesture. He stiffened instantly, as she suspected he would. She waited, hoping…hoping she hadn't made a huge mistake.

To her joy, he slowly returned her gesture, tentatively wrapping his arms around her. When she didn't release him, he brought her closer to him, and she felt him press his face into the furs that covered the nape of her neck. He felt good against her, and she felt safe again.

"Ma serannas, hahren." She whispered, and his grip around her tightened at her use of the honorific and she was lifted slightly off of the ground. They stayed that way for many moments, Arya allowing herself to rejoice at the success of her gamble. They then heard the stirring of Mother Giselle in her tent as she awoke and Solas put her down hurriedly.

Their eyes met briefly before she retreated into her tent to greet the Chantry Mother, a large smile on her face.

I originally had a sad ending, but I have enough soul crushing moments every day in school without creating them in my "free time."