❝Hello There.❞
My muse has just returned from your muse’s funeral when a knock on their door drags them out of their grieving - in front of it stands your muse. Send “Hello there” for a starter.
Left in the dark about what happened to his Raleigh, the Emperor’s grief were shattered shards of the chantry’s stained glass running through his veins. A closed casket he was returned with, holding just his lover’s ruined arm as Leilana tried to tell him it had something to do with Solas. For all his calm demeanour, he could not believe Raleigh was gone.
The Inquisition had searched. So had his own men. Aside from finding way too much dried blood, nothing else of his love was left. There was no choice but to go through with the funeral.
Everyone wanted to bury Raleigh. Why?
It was just his arm.
Silent through the funeral, Elisaid never shed a single tear. He left the speeches to the once Inquisition. Yvette stood beside him, still a little worn from having given birth to Elise a few months ago. It was little comfort to touch the swaddled girl’s cheek as she slept in Yvette’s handmaiden’s arms. Elisaid swept his gaze over the other attendees.
There were many grieving, but many more were using the occasion to trade information and discuss the potential changes to the ties between the once Inquisition and the throne. Conspiracies about how Ser Samson died ran amok. Fingers pointed at Ferelden or the elves. What could he have expected from his fellow countrymen? What else should he have expected?
Thankfully he had his veil, a black shroud that covered him from head to toe. Beneath was a black mask for his lower face, his sapphire tasselled earring turned obsidian and black, and his sleek wardrobe cutting an even darker sharper silhouette under the veil. The crown - the only accessory outside of the veil - clearly signified who he was. The entire ensemble made the Emperor uncomfortable to look at, much less discern his feelings and opinions on the Inquisitor’s death.
Returning alone to his room, Elisaid staggered as his knees suddenly felt weak. He grabbed hold of his bedpost and leaned his head on it, clunking the crown against the wood. Faint tremors shook down his shoulders, caught between wanting to cry and feeling a void in his chest. The door knocked. “?” Elisaid thought he sent away all the servants, and told them to leave him in peace. The guards shouldn’t have knocked unless... there was something urgent?
He heard it again, but this time he realised it was from behind his bookshelf. That was his secret passageway. Elisaid froze, staring in that direction. A knock came again.
Making his way over in the dim light of dusk from the windows, Elisaid slid aside the bookshelf with its secret lock and stared at the man before him. That familiar voice which he had not heard in weeks greeted him as he took in the sight of his love greedily. Tears that were held back for so long rose, noticing the arm that was gone.
“Raleigh?” His voice broke.
— @shield-of-shame, sent May 16th 2019, 4:46:40 am, written to this [x]