A/N: Hello Lovies!

First off, a big thank you to everyone has followed this! I'm glad that my random thought has garnered some interest. Hopefully I can turn this into something epic and all together awesome for you. And the biggest shout out of all to Apollo Wings, crazy writing machine (how I've missed you!) If you guys are looking for some awesome Lavellan stuff, check out her absolutely stunning fic, "Practically Magic." You won't be disappointed

So I have a better handle on where I want this all to go, and I'm super excited about it. It goes without saying this is AU (after all, everyone's been through hell for a year...) so expect a few liberties to be taken. Also, the DA wiki doesn't give that comprehensive of a glossary when it comes to the elven language so I may have to make up a syllable/word here or there. I'll post translations as necessary.

Lastly, if you happen to also be a fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer I posted a new chapter to my DA/BtVS fic a few days ago, check it out. Just head to my profile and click on "Chosen and Joined."

R&R lovies; it feeds the muse (and she's been starving lately).

Elfish translations:

da'vhenan: little heart

Fa emma harel. Halam sahlin: They should fear me. This ends now.

*Apollo pointed something out to me and I realized a part of Evanthe and Solas' conversation got left out ( oops!) fixed now!

Evanthe leaned her forehead against the cool stone archway and closed her eyes, sighing deep and wishing for the hundredth time that she was literally anywhere else in the world. So much had happened in the span of one short year and she was still struggling to wrap her mind around it all. One by one the realms had fallen to Corypheus' hand, each defeat shaping the world into something new and all together terrifying. It had taken only six short months for Thedas to burn, and from its ashes a new empire, helmed by a fallen god, had risen to take its place.

When she had called for the meeting, she expected there to be empty places around the war table. Cullen's less than cryptic remark had seen to that. Evanthe had prepared for it, telling herself this was war in the purest sense of the definition and as such not everyone would live to see the end of the battle. But she hadn't been prepared for just how much loss had befallen the Inquisition's ranks. Of those who once had stood by her side only six remained...seven really, but Evanthe was beginning to wonder whether he had really ever stood with her at all.

Grimly, Cullen had told her of the fallen. Of how Vivienne had been the first to die, struck down at Haven when the Venetori, bolstered by the turn coat templars, attacked one moonless night. Josephine was the next, run through with a sword during Skyhold's first assault. That she had been on the battlefield in the first place was enough to anger Evanthe. The woman had been a diplomat, trained in the deadly waters of palace intrigue but not made for blood and battle. She had no place in the skirmish, but the Inquisition had been desperate for numbers, and Josephine even more desperate to make a difference. And so she had met her end, blood soaking a crimson blanket into the freshly fallen snow. Not all had died...some, like Sera, had simply fled. Wanting to take their chances with the new minted leader of the world, or thinking their chances at survival were better if they were not tied to the Inquisition. Sera, for her part, had panicked. It didn't surprise Evanthe in the least. The archer had never really fallen in with what the Inquisition had stood for. She had simply joined to ensure that the everyman wouldn't be forgotten in the shuffle. Big ideas, the philosophy that comes with saving and changing the world had always been a bit much for the Denerim born elf to deal with. Anything that required too much thought had scared Sera, and when the world went to topsy turvy, she bolted, and no one had heard from her since.

So many gone, either by their own doing, or at the word of Corypheus. The hardest to bear had been Cassandra. For some reason the seeker's death and hit Evanthe hard, and she refused to believe it when Cullen had broken the news. The Seeker and her had never quite made it to the realm of friendship, but Cassandra had been the first to give her a purpose in all this, to take what many would have considered a burden and elevate to it calling. It mattered little that Evanthe had never quite believed that Andraste had chosen her; as a Dalish Elf she had little use for petulant human gods. It only mattered that Casandra had believed that Evanthe could make the difference in this fight. And the Seeker had gone to her death, never knowing if Evanthe was the savior they all had hoped for.

When Cullen had recited the death toll it was staggering, each instance of Corypheus' advance leaving piles of bodies in its wake. First Redcliff had fallen, and with it, the majority of Ferelden. Orlais was next, weakened by the sudden assassination of its empress. With the gilded nation in chaos Tevinter had swept in, laying waste to the countryside until Val Royeux flew Corypheus' banner. Antiva, the Free Marches, even Par Vollen, all of them crushed under the boot heel of the Elder One. Nowhere was left untouched by the taint of the magisters, and red lyrium had spread across the landscape like a plague. There were pockets of resistance to be found, but nothing cohesive and nowhere near a true threat. The templars, mages, and even the wardens had all been swayed by the maddening song of an ancient magister and their strength was terrible in it's might. Few political figures remained, among them Elissa Cousland who had sought sanctuary in Skyhold under protection of the inquisition Her husband, Alistair, was nowhere to be found, disappeared along with Harlow Tabris, the hero of Ferelden.

It was devastating, to say the least. But none of it compared to the true catalyst that had set it all in motion. When Leliana had imparted that bit of wisdom, almost gleefully as if Evanthe's hurt was a passing amusement, she had reeled back, as if physically struck. To think that the man she had placed her trust in, had thought so worldly...had allowed herself to feel something for, was the sole reason for all this, it hurt deeper than anything that had come before. Upon hearing the news Evanthe had shut down, numbly issuing a few commands she could barely remember, before taking her leave and making the slow descent into Skyhold's dungeon.

The air was cold here, crisp, bearing none of the dampness that usually came with subterranean spaces. They were too high in the mountains for that, and Evanthe shivered as a chill breeze wafted through the archway. She had yet to take that final step that would bring her through the threshold and into the dungeon proper, stalling for as long as she could. She did not want to do this. Did not want to face the man and have him stare at her with those eyes that seemed to carry the weight of centuries. But she knew she had to, had to face the cause of all this suffering and offer no mercy while doing so. After all, his actions had shown the world no mercy, so why should she? Squaring her shoulders she pushed off the archway, took a deep, centering breath, and crossed the threshold.

He was kneeling in a large cell, hands bound and his neck collared. Six chains ran from the ground to attach to the metal band, giving just enough slack for him to lie down should he so choose. His head was bowed, the tips of his ears rising gracefully over the smoothness of his skull. Evanthe stared at him for what felt like an eternity, all at once overjoyed that he had survived and at the same time severely disappointed that he had.

"Solas," she said at last, voice rough and cracking.

"So you have returned to us," he replied softly, head still bowed to the ground.

"Not to you. Never for you."

"Then you know what I have done," he murmured low, raising his head at last to look upon her. The punch of his gaze hit her hard, and she felt her heart clench off beat. A part of her fought against the idea that he was responsible for all this, clinging desperately to the memory of a man she thought she knew. But when he simply sat there, making not a single protest of his innocence, Evanthe knew with a certainty that every word Leliana had told her was absolutely true.

"Why?" she whispered, hating how hurt and broken her voice sounded.

"It is complicated, da'vhenan," Solas sighed.

"Do not call me that!" Evanthe cried. The words were like shards of glass tearing into her. She remembered the warmth she had felt when he had first bestowed the endearment upon her; a flush that had spread from her chest to her cheeks. They had been circling each other for weeks, offering sly remarks couched in small talk, each testing the waters of the possibility for something more. It was the first time he had been so blatant in his flirting, and she, flustered, had not known what to say. Now, a year later and world apart from that life, she had so many words and they crowded at her tongue. "You think to play upon my sentiment? To cow me with flattery and the memory of something tainted by deceit? Does your betrayal know no bounds, Solas?"

"You are not the first to shout these things at me," he replied calmly. "Nor, do I suspect you will be the last. I play upon nothing. I call you da'vhenan, because that is what you are."

"Stop it," she pleaded, the words barely more than trembling breath over lips.

"You are so young. Not just in years but in history. You come from a world that has forgotten it's birth, making yourselves infants in your ignorance."

"Stop it!"

"But you carry such a heart in you, Evanthe. Such compassion. That you are standing here, unbroken, attests to that."

"I said stop!" she screamed rushing the bars and gripping them tight. "This is not what came before, Solas. I no longer look upon you and see any value. As far as I'm concerned the man I knew was a figment, a pretty lie and nothing more. Do not think you can charm me with your world view any longer. The world around us bleeds and you are responsible. No amount of fond memory can make up for that."

"Nor do I think it would," he countered, still infuriatingly calm in the face of her tirade, "but while you despise the very sight of me, it in no way changes my opinion of you." Evanthe hissed in frustration and pushed away from the bars, turning her back upon him so as to better calm herself.

"Was I just a ploy?" she asked quietly after what seemed an endless stretch of silence. "A safeguard against your guilt in case you were found out?"

"No," he whispered after a time.

"A passing amusement then?"

"No," he replied a bit more fiercely.

"Then what was I, Solas? What was I to you, knowing what you had done? Did you think I would be able to reconcile this away? That I would welcome you into my bed, into my heart knowing what you had done?"

"You did not love me, do not pretend-"

"It doesn't matter!" She cried, whirling about with her hands clenched tight to her chest. "I doesn't matter than it never got that far. You manipulated me, Solas. You toyed with me."

"I didn't," he snapped, eyes blazing. When he saw the sheen of tears in her gold flecked eyes his gaze softened. "I didn't, Evanthe. Please do not cry, da'vhenan."

"You give yourself too much credit," she snorted, hands angrily wiping at the tears. "I have endured far too much in too short a time and I am merely exhausted in mind and spirit. Your deception of me pales when stacked against all that lies ahead."

"It was selfish of me," he continued, as if she had not spoken. "You had such a charm about you, a light I found myself drawn to. You were...it had been so very long since I had been tempted by anyone."

"You were right," she interjected quickly, drawing herself up tall. "What we shared was hardly anything. Some simple flirtatious banter, nothing more-"

"It was more than that," he protested softly. "That night in the garden-"

"Nothing. More," she stated with finality, unwilling to be dragged into a memory that would only hurt her more. "Let us be done with it." Solas stared at her hard, eyes narrowing as if challenging her stance on the matter. Evanthe refused to back down, to show even the barest glimmer of softening. After a time Solas bowed his head in acknowledgment and she watched in fascination as his detached bearing once more wove it's self through his frame; an invisible wall constructed between the two of them.

"Tell me why," she insisted once the silence had become unbearable, "why the price of Armageddon was worth it to you."

"It is simple," he said, the faintest hint of sorrow in his voice, "I did not have the power to unlock the secrets of the orb."

"And so you handed it over to a dark legend, offering the lives of thousands as a bargaining chip in your quest of power? What was to happen then, Solas? What was to happen when the skies bled and the world collapsed?"

"I have spent my life walking paths of the fade few have ever dared to tread," he replied, a bit of heat coloring his words. "There was no one better equipped than I to deal with the fallout of unlocking the orb."

"And such a help you were," she sneered. "How did you even come to be possessed of the orb in the first place?"

"That I can not tell you, Evanthe," he replied quietly, though his tone left no room for argument.

"You mean 'won't.' Keeping secrets is what led to all this in the first place. Do you really think it's in your best interest to continue to withhold information?"

"In this, yes. Some secrets are worth keeping because the truth is not something we are fit to bear."

"Tell me, why do you still draw breath?" Evanthe sneered with a shake of her head. "Why has Cullen or Leliana not taken a blade to your throat as reparation for what you have set in motion? It cannot be that you are equipped to save us all. Otherwise the heaven's would not pulse green and Corypheus would have no throne."

"I suspect it is because they still think there is some use they can pry from me," he replied with a shrug. "They each make a journey down to me every so often. Although, Leliana has not visited in quite some time. I wonder what has happened to the fair nightingale." Evanthe stiffened at the question, irrationally angry that he would ever think to ask after the bard. He had no way of knowing what had befallen her, after all a prisoner was never really taken into confidence. Still it galled her, pricking at a stew of emotions that were already a volatile mix.

"It is a blessing you are undeserving of that you do not know what has befallen her. Do not ask after her again, Solas. Any of them. You relinquished your right to care about their well being long ago." Her words cut at him, she could see it in the sudden hunching of his shoulders. It made her believe that he truly did carry regret for what he had done, but she didn't have it in her to soften towards him, not in this moment. "Why do they come to you?"

"Hard as it is to believe they come for guidance Asking questions and demanding answers for whatever doomed endeavor they are currently undertaking in their war against Corypheus. I educate as best I can, but there is little I can do from the confines of a cell."

"You cannot seriously be appealing to me for your release," Evanthe barked out on a disbelieving laugh.

"Even you have to admit that I am uniquely valuable in this situation," he argued, using that superior voice that had once, long ago, amused her. "The breech is a gateway to the fade. There are very few among the Inquisition's ranks that have felt the likes of it before, and none who have experienced it's undiluted nature. Not even I know all the secrets the fade claims, but I have traversed it's pathways in greater detail than anyone in recent memory, and certainly within Skyhold's walls."

"And this somehow makes up for all that you have done? You think your intellect wipes your slate clean?" Evanthe pressed close to the bars once more, sneering down at him. "Trust me, Solas, when I do free you from this cell, it will only be to walk you to the executioner's block myself."

"You say that with such conviction, but both you and I know you do not have it in you to be so merciless. Your blood does not run cold, da'vhenan." Evanthe smirked and pushed away from the cell, refusing to be thrown off balance by his words. It was true. Her nature was not one of ruthlessness, but that was something that could easily be changed. And she had a feeling that the longer she spent in this future the quicker the darkness would claim her.

"Then I shall have to learn to cool it down," she replied quietly before turning to leave.

"Corypheus is a mighty foe," Solas called after her, a bit of desperation showing in his tone. "He and his army have the world begging at their feet. They will not fear your return."

"Fa emma harel," she replied coldly as she continued to walk away. "Halam sahlin."