A/N: Hello Lovies! I'm baaaaack. So after two and a half play throughs of DA:I (in which I promptly romanced Cullen, because how could I NOT?), here I am, and oh my god the feels. So much feelings.

So I have a skeleton in my head of an idea for a story, and I decided to do something quite scary: I'm writing it with very little idea of where it's going to go. But the idea intrigued me, and I figured, might as well jump in, I've been gone for far too long.

Some notes about this story: This follows my If I've Killed/Heavy are the Hearts cannon which means only one thing: Elissa, Alistair, Zevran, and Harlow will be making their triumphant return. However, the story is primarily about Lavellen, so think of them more as cameo's than anything else. Also, as stated in the synopsis, this posits what would happen in the inquisitor and Dorian never managed to make it back to their time.

It goes without saying that spoiler's run rampant through this, including spoilers regarding the epilogue (seriously, I dropped my remote and screamed at the tv when that came up). So if you haven't played through the game yet and don't want key story points ruined, tread lightly.

I still need to keep up with my original work, as that takes priority, but I will update this as best I can. And yes, I promise there will be an update to Chosen and Joined...eventually. Also, expect a smutty one shot of Cullen and Trevelan to be posted in the next few weeks.

I've missed you all, and I hope you enjoy :-)

"You fool, as if it matters what way a man falls down."

"When the fall is all that's left, it matters a great deal."

-The Lion in Winter

Somehow it had all gone wrong.

It wasn't enough that the sky had split, spilling monsters and undead upon the earth like a waterfall of the demonic. No, Evanthe Lavellen's troubles had to be compounded a hundred fold by being sent to a future so unbearable it's a wonder she didn't give up right then and there. From her perspective she and Dorian had only been in this new reality for a handful of weeks, but for the others...for her friends and advisers...it had been much longer. Too long. And she had an ill sort feeling that not all of them had come out the other side whole. The dystopian future she had been thrust into was...well, horrifying seemed to light a word.

Dorian had insisted that once they found Alexius and the amulet they could reverse all this, go back in time to a life that was infinitely better. A life where she could still make a difference. It all came crashing down, of course, when they finally intercepted the magister. Alexius, a broken, shadow of the villain he had once been, had mournfully informed them that the prize they sought no longer existed. Corypheus, the mysterious Elder One, had destroyed it, wanting to erase any possibility that Evanthe could somehow find her way back through the maze of time and disrupt his wicked plans. It left her and Dorian with very little options, and they, along with a much changed Leliana, Iron Bull, and Varric were forced to flee Redcliff, nearly dying in the process. But not before slaughtering Alexius. The man was no true threat anymore; a pathetic, grief stricken man who had broken under the reality of just what his ambition had cost. Evanthe felt no pity for the magister, even upon seeing what his son, Felix, had become. Even so, when she had shoved the bladed end of her staff through Alexius' throat, the death had seemed hollow. There was no victory to be found in the man's death, no one's life made better by the taking of his. It was just yet another bitter disappointment to be found in this brave new world.

"You know, it makes it damn difficult to know where we're going when you insist on leading us from behind," Dorian groused as they trudged through the tightly packed snow in the frost back mountains. They had been traveling for weeks, skirting the edges of enemy strongholds as they wove their way across Ferelden. Leliana had directed them, refusing to divulge their destination except to demand that they change course a few dozen times.

"I care little for your difficulty," Leliana hissed back. "You and yours are responsible for all this. The world burns because mage's corrupted every bit of good left in the realm. I refuse to have one at my back, no matter how well intentioned they might be."

"I am responsible for nothing. And have you forgotten your precious Herald of Andraste belongs to the ranks of vile mages as well?" Dorian snapped.

"I have forgotten nothing," Leliana replied with a voice heavily layered in sorrow and rage. "Bear right, we are getting of course." Not for the first time Evanthe cringed upon hearing the bard speak. Leliana, the Leliana Evanthe remembered, had once borne a serenity that was almost enviable. Even when she was angry, there was something soothing to the dulcet tones of her voice, as if her faith were enough of a balm to smooth the rough edges of darker emotions. But that Leliana was gone, replaced with a desiccated woman who's voice was hard, her faith tempered down to the sharp edge of revenge.

"Are you certain you can replicate the amulet, Dorian?" Evanthe asked quietly as they continued to trudge through the frozen countryside

"As certain as I can be given the rather dire circumstances," he replied with a frown. "But it will take time and resources, two things I suspect to be in short supply in this delightful new reality."

"And what happens when pretty boy here produces this magic amulet?" Varric inquired in his eerie new voice. "Does our world just go poof? Bye-bye? Thanks for enduring months of torture, we'll miss ya, but we got to go?"

"I don't know, Varric," she sighed wearily. "Philosophy never was my strong suit."

"Does it matter?" Iron Bull grunted, the glow of his red lyrium casting crimson shadows upon the falling show. "Any world is better that this. It has to be. I'd be happy to die in this shit excuse for a reality knowing I'm happily alive and bedding serving girls in another."

"Last I heard you were still working your way through the camp's laundresses," Evanthe teased, "hadn't even made it to the tavern wenches yet."

"And now I never will," Bull replied, every syllable an accusation. Evanthe flinched under the weight of it. She should have known better that to joke, but she had been so desperate to hold on to some semblance of normal that she had taken whatever small chance was afforded her. It was her own fault, really. She needed to stop thinking of these people as who they were in the before. This was the after, and clearly a year spent under the tyranny of a monster had changed them greatly. They felt like strangers to her.

"When we crest this hill we'll want to head north," Leliana directed, breaking through the tension with practicalities.

"Where exactly are you leading us, Lei?" Evanthe inquired.

"To Skyhold."

"What on earth is Skyhold?" Dorian asked, his breath fogging in the cold mountain air. Leliana's mouth grew tight, her lips thinning to a line, as if the very sound of the mage's voice was an affront to her ears.

"The last dying breath of the inquisition," the bard supplied, her eyes fixed on the horizon. Evanthe followed her gaze, wondering perhaps if this mysterious Skyhold would appear before them just for speaking it. But all she saw was the hazy green of a scarred sky, and a portal to the fade that was larger than she could ever have dared dreamed. Whatever Leliana was searching for on the horizon, it was long gone.

"What is it?" she murmured softly, trying to ease the woman into the idea of trusting her once more.

"I am surprised you do not remember," Leliana mocked. "Though you were not here for it's destruction. This is where Haven stood, Herald, before Corypheus burned it to the ground." Evanthe choked back a sob upon hearing the dire news, feet stumbling to a halt. Leliana barely even noticed, simply continued on along their path. Evanthe struggled to wrap her mind around it, accept the tragedy and move on. But she simply couldn't. Haven had seemed a bit slapdash and held together with wishes and string, but it had lived up to it's name. So many people had sought sanctuary within it's walls, thinking it would keep them safe. That Evanthe would keep them safe. And she had failed them. Had failed the whole damn world. It didn't matter that Alexius' spell was responsible for her absence, it only mattered that she had not been there in the first place.

But she was here now. It was a year late in coming, but Evanthe would do what she could to heal the sky and right this world. She had to...even if meant becoming as ruthless and twisted as her surroundings. The Elder One feared she would return and wrench his dark victory from his grasp? Good. That's exactly what she intended on doing. And she would make sure his screams were loud enough for the whole world to hear.

~oOo~

Skyhold was nothing what Evanthe had expected. Leliana had not been exaggerating when she referred to the fortress as the "last dying gasp of the inquisition." The fortress, if you could call it that, lay in ruins, or damn near. What once would have been an impenetrable monstrosity of stone now stood pitted and scarred from one too many sieges. The ramparts were crumbling, leaving no cover for archers to hide behind, and only one of five original towers remained. A pathetic bridge made of rope and wood stretched over the large chasm that circled the fortress; the only access in or out. Evanthe spied tightly wound bundles of similar contraptions near the drawbridge, making it clear that once under siege the ropes would be cut and anyone stranded on the other side would be left to their fate.

"Looks...cozy," Dorian offered cheerfully.

"Hell, I'll take crumbling and cozy over cramped and demonic any day," Varric groused. "Lead the way, nightingale, I've an itching to sleep in a real bed for once."

"No," Evanthe ordered, and her companions all turned to look at her with varying levels of anger. "You're infected with red lyrium, Varric. Both you and Iron Bull. I can't take the chance that you'll infect the other inhabitants until we know just what we're dealing with."

"If you think I'm going to let you chain me up in some fucking cell again-" Bull growled, taking a menacing step towards her.

"That's not what I said," Evanthe snapped. "And even if I had, you take your orders from me, remember?"

"Whatever you say, boss," Bull spat, backing away from her in disgust. Evanthe took a deep breath, steeling herself against the hurt and directed her next question to Leliana. "Is there a place where they can be kept away from the population but still comfortable enough to rest and heal?"

"From what I remember, the servant's quarters were unoccupied last I was here. But that was four months ago. It should do for what you're suggesting." Leliana's tone was just as unfriendly as Bull's had been. But despite the hurt, Evanthe knew she had to draw the hard line, to remind them of why they had once put their faith in her. They needed to remember she was their commander, not just another foot soldier in this war.

"Fine. Send down blankets, water, and a healer. We need to-" Evanthe was cut off by an arrow embedding itself deep in the snow at her feet. Whipping her staff from her back she spun around, eyes fixed upon the ramparts to see a squadron of ten archers poised to fire. "What the-" She was interrupted again, this time by a figure barreling into her and shoving her hard against a massive boulder. Her vision swam with black streaks as she fought to retain consciousness, and distantly she could hear Dorian's cries of protest as he was subjected to his own fair share of brutality. When at last her vision cleared, Evanthe found herself staring up into the hateful eyes of a man who once trusted her implicitly

"Again with the tricks," Cullen growled, his forearm exerting pressure upon her windpipe. "Corypheus must think we are truly stupid."

"Cullen," she choked out, hands clawing at his arm.

"We didn't fall for it the first twenty times, we damn well won't fall for it again." More pressure and Evanthe panicked, lungs working overtime to suck in as much air as possible. Stars began to twinkle on the periphery of her gaze and her face tingled from lack of oxygen. Cullen seemed immune to her distress, simply pressed down further, a snarl painted upon his lips. "He can send as many demons as he likes, tarted up in the Herald's skin. But we know the truth; she isn't coming back and this is nothing but yet another attempt to slip beneath our defenses and weaken us with sentiment." Evanthe's eye's widened at this confession, shocked beyond measure. Corypheus played a deep, and troubling game, it seemed, where nothing was sacred and everything, even a person's hopes, were weapons. No wonder Leliana did not trust her, why none of them did. Her very image had been turned into a form of torture and espionage.

When Cullen exerted yet more pressure upon her neck, Evanthe could feel herself begin to slip out of consciousness. Drawing what little bit of strength she had left she slapped her palm upon Cullen's armored chest and let her mark have free reign. The blast of power sent him flying back into the snow, leaving Evanthe free to suck in greedy gulps of air with ragged, wheezing breaths. Bent over, with her hands resting upon her knees, Evanthe glared at Leliana through a veil of her pale blonde hair.

"You couldn't have called him off?" she accused, and the bard merely shrugged.

"It is better that he sees for himself," Leliana replied. "He will believe now, and that is what you needed, yes?"

"Wish he could have believed in a less violent fashion," she murmured before straightening and limping over to the still prone commander. She took a moment to study him, and was once again struck by how much he, like everyone else she had once known, had changed. His face was gaunter, each line thrown into stark relief, giving him a deadly handsome quality she had once thought he lacked. He had been too refined before for her taste, but a year of living lean had etched away some of that pristine visage and left the rugged looks of a man who truly knew what it meant to survive. A new scar cut through is left eyebrow, a startling contrast to the one that graced his lip on the opposite side, and his hair had grown longer, falling over his brow and into his hazel eyes with a soft tumble.

Cullen caught her staring a glowered up at her, shaking her from her study. She thrust a hand out, offering him help rising, and after only a moment's hesitation, he took it. Evanthe braced herself to haul him upright, only to stagger back when she did so. It appeared he had lost some weight as well, but she remembered the force with which he had attacked her, and knew that though he may not be as bulky as before, a tremendous amount of strength still radiated through his limbs.

"It's really you," he murmured with a bit of wonder. When she offered a hesitant smile his features once more turned hard and he yanked out of her grasp. "Where were you?"

"We weren't anywhere, actually," Dorian called out, and both Evanthe and Cullen turned to regard the mage who was being held captive by two inquisition soldiers. "Mind calling of your men? I do like to be manhandled, but there's a time a place for such things." Cullen motioned for his men to release Dorian before pinning Evanthe once more with an accusatory glare.

"Explain."

"Dorian's right, Cullen," she beseeched. "What has been a year for you has, at this point, been only a handful of weeks for us. Alexius sent us through a rift and we somehow landed in Redcliff dungeon a year later."

"We thought you'd abandoned us," he accused softly. "Left us to die at the hands of that...that monster." Evanthe had nothing to say to that, because in a way it was true. Through no fault of her own, she had abandoned them, and it made little difference whether she intended it or not.

"I don't mean to break up this heartfelt and all together awkward reunion, but could we possibly move it inside? Bianca doesn't like the cold," Varric loudly suggested.

"Get them to the servants quarters. I want to see their wounds treated and their stomachs full before anything else," Evanthe ordered, directing her words to the two soldier's who had held Dorian captive. When they did not move an inch, simply looked at Cullen for confirmation, she snarled low in her throat and took a commanding step towards the two. "Now," she insisted, tone brooking no disobedience. The soldiers hesitated only briefly before acting out her command. Evanthe watched as they, with gentle hands, ushered Varric and Iron Bull across the rickety bridge. The dwarf looked back at her briefly, a smile on his face and nightmares in his eyes, and Evanthe felt her heart break all over again. How long was it going to take to set all this right? And even if she did win the day, would the people she cared about ever be truly whole again?

"Call a meeting," she murmured, eyes still fixed upon Varric's retreating form. "I need to know exactly what we're dealing with."

"At once, Herald," Leliana said with a mocking sense of grandeur, "though it will be a rather lightly attended gathering."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Evanthe asked once Leliana had crossed the bridge.

"Exactly what it sounds like," Cullen replied grimly, turning to make his way into the fortress. "We've had to dig a lot of graves since you've been gone."