For a few moments he disbelieves what he’s heard. He denies it
loudly, refusing to believe they’re gone, and isolates himself in his
office. Anger takes over him, there’s no way they could be gone! It
has to be lies. The anger quickly turns to himself, what could he
have done to stop it? What if he’d been there? Could he have helped?
I should have been there, is all he can think. He remembers, and
replays every bad decision he’s ever done. The memories of losing his
friends in the circle, not being able to stop the rebellion in
Kirkwall, not being with the Inquisitor when they needed him. He
hurts. Worse than being tortured by mages, worse than quitting
lyrium. He gives up, deciding
that he’s been through enough sorrow in his life to go through
She’s angry, fuming with rage when the messenger tells her the news.
“And where were their backup? Their help?” she demands to know.
The anger doesn’t fade, she trashes her room, knocks over tables,
kicks down chairs, shreds bedsheets, and rips letters to pieces. She
doesn’t know how to handle the pain, she tries to treat it like any
injury. By walking it off, ignoring it and continuing with her life,
but the pain doesn’t go away.
that the news doesn’t affect him. Swats concern off and claims he’s
got somewhere to be when in reality he needs to be alone, to grieve,
and cry. If anyone asks he will deny it. If anyone catches him he
will lie. He’s good at lying, good at hiding his emotions. No one’s
seen him like this, except the inquisitor.
nods when he’s told, eyes
dropping to the ground, lips pressing together to
keep the emotions in shack.
He mumbles a few words on
their funeral, stands in honor while the new divine speaks from the
chant of light, and keeps a straight face until he’s alone in the
stables again. He feels empty, lonely,
like history is repeating itself. He
thinks that maybe he’s meant to be alone.
Iron Bull: He
laughs when the messenger stutters out the news. Not believing what
he hears. The though is
ridiculous. How could his inquisitor, the one who conquered his heart
possibly be gone, when neither dragons, demons, nor walking in the
fade could defeat them? Realization doesn’t hit him until days later,
when he sees the inquisitor’s weapon displayed on the wall. They
never left Skyhold without it, never walked unarmed, but there it is,
collecting dust on the wall, on display below a golden inscription of
the story of the inquisitor. It
hurts like acid, but not on the outside but on the inside, in the
center of his chest. His kadan.
is calm, knowing that their love would not be forever. But it doesn’t
keep the pain away. He hurts inside and out. He hurts all the way
into his soul. Even his dreams are twisted with horror and pain,
constantly reminding him of his loss. He
sees the inquisitor when he wanders in the fade, never for more than
a second, in the corner of his eye, and when he turns to look they’re
Laughs nervously when she’s told what has happened. Eyes darting over
the messenger’s face, with an awkward smile. “Yeah, and I’m the
empress of Orlais.” She shakes her head and looks around, calling
for the Inquisitor to come out, saying “you almost got me”. She
gets angry when they tell her that there’s no joke, no prank, no act.
Firing arrow after arrow at the retreating messenger, yelling bloody
murder at the ‘Maker’ that everyone seems to look up to. She doesn’t
like the Maker if he lets things like that happen.
Horror crosses her face when she reads the message.
She’s stunned, can barely see straight, feels dizzy. She stutters
when she speaks, trying to tell the others around the war table. Her
hand clutches over her chest, trying to keep her heart in one piece.
She can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t stand, and braces herself
against the table. Leliana is by her side in an instant, wrapping a
pair of arms around her right before the tears starts falling.
quite understand what they mean when they say that the Inquisitor is
gone. He searches for them, in Skyhold, in the fade. He listens but
there’s an odd silence in the world. It’s unnatural, it’s like
everything is mute. With he Inquisitor’s colorful thoughts gone the
fort seems paler, without their warm presence it seems colder.
There’s a strange feeling within Cole. It hurts, but he’s not
wounded. It’s lonely, but he’s surrounded by people, and he doesn’t
know how to take the hurt away.
if he hadn’t lost enough in his life. As if he didn’t miss his home,
or his brother, or Hawke. Another person to add to his list of
heartbreaks, another person to remember, but not be able to see
again. He curses and sits down by the fire, picking out his trusty
inkwell and some parchment, writing the story of the Inquisitor.