Behold! Less than 24 hours after talking about shipping my OC with @pathfindersbutt ‘s OC and I’ve already gone overboard with a feelsy fic. The moral of the story here is that I love sadness and staying up late writing so I combined the best of both worlds so I can be sad and tired.
(fic under the cut)
“Skyhold.” Haleir looked up at the silhouette of the great fortress against the sun. “It’s bigger than I remember.”
The memories came in waves as he continued up the mountain. A drunk confession. A shared laugh and a snowball fight. A gentle, reassuring kiss in the dark.
It’s okay, hjärtat. You’re safe.
This place was filled with so many memories. So many painful memories. Haleir felt tears well in his eyes and he quickly brushed them away before he reached the gate.
The guards were polite, as if they knew Haleir was coming, and let him enter without any trouble. One even took his horse for him after he dismounted and took it to the stables. Haleir thanked the man and continued to the courtyard.
Skyhold was sunny and warm, but no amount of sun could cure the gloom that hung in the air here. Weeks had passes since Flynn’s death and the people here were still in mourning. His death had shaken all of Thedas, and without him Haleir doubted the Inquisition would last.
It’s what he would want.
Being here made it so much more real to Haleir. The sadness in the atmosphere, the empty looks on passerby’s faces, it made it all so real. Like a weight on his chest dragging him down into the depths of the ocean. With each step, his feet became heavier and harder to lift.
Some faces were familiar, but none were of friends. The funeral had been two weeks ago, about the time the messenger bird had made it to Riverhold. Everyone had left after to live their lives. Blackwall, Iron Bull, Cassandra, Varric, Vivienne, Sera, everyone. They were all living their lives. Even Cole had left to travel with a minstrel.
Haleir stumbled and nearly fell. His feet felt as if they were glued to the ground. It took many promises to motivate himself to move any further. Just one more step. Now another. Up these stairs. Through this doorway. Don’t look at anyone. Avoid the throne.
The throne. Even as he told himself not to, his eyes glanced up at it. The Inquisitor’s throne. Haleir could still see Flynn on it, passing judgements he never wanted to be responsible for in the first place. It took some effort to tear his eyes away from the throne.
Through the door. To the desk. Look up. Say something.
“Josephine.”
The Inquisition’s ambassador jumped in her chair and looked up. The dark circles under her eyes were the worst Haleir had ever seen them. The worry lines on her face seemed deeper. She was tired.
“Master Tralinson.” Her accent was heavier than usual, another sign of her fatigue. “I did not hear you enter the room.”
“It’s alright, Josie. You were working on things.” Haleir gave her a weak smile. “I’m not interrupting anything important, am I?”
“Not at all.” She stood up quickly and brushed down her shirt. “I was simply working on some paperwork. Things have gotten busier since...”
She trailed off and looked at the fireplace. After a moment, she took a quick breath in and turned her attention back to the Avvar.
“Well, never mind that. I assume you’re here to visit him?”
“That would be nice. I’m assuming he’s buried here in Skyhold?”
“He left not soon after. I fear he went north to Tevinter. Likely to hunt down the Venatori on his own.”
“I doubt anybody took the death as hard as he did.” Haleir looked around the garden. “I know what it’s like to lose family.”
“I heard about your loss. I am very sorry that you have to deal with pain of so much death so quickly.” Concern filled Josephine’s eyes as she turned her gaze to Haleir. “If there is anything you need...”
“It’s okay, Josephine. I’ll just need some time alone when we get there.”
“Of course.” The Antivan led the way a few more steps before stopping in front of a small sapling. “There is an official monument in the courtyard dedicated to the Inquisitor and everything he did to save us. But Varric and Sera said that this was a more fitting tribute. I thought this one might bring you more comfort.”
“Thanks, Josie.” He gave her a sad smile, then returned his attention to the sapling.
Josephine quietly excused herself, leaving Haleir alone in the garden with his thoughts.
“So. I finally come and visit you and you can’t even be bothered to be alive for it, huh? Geez what kind of boyfriend are you?” Haleir could feel the tears welling in his eyes. “It’s not as fun talking to a statue or a tree, asshole. You could’ve waited until I got here to die.”
Tears spilled down his cheeks and Haleir sat down with a heavy slump.
“You promised me you’d be okay, hjärtat. That you’d be safe while I was gone!” Haleir’s vision blurred with tears. “I wasn’t even gone a year, dammit!”
Haleir buried his face in his arms and sobbed.
When Haleir finally looked up from his arms, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The sun had definitely moved in the sky and the Avvar elf guessed he would be hungry if his stomach wasn’t so upset from crying.
He rubbed the remaining tears from his eyes and looked up at the tree. This was how his friends would remember him. A tree.
“I can’t decide if that’s stupid or touchingly brilliant but either way I want to punch something.”
Haleir sighed and leaned back, moving his arms behind him to support himself. And in doing so, brushed his palm against a leather object to his left that wasn’t there before.
He glanced to his side, seeing a small journal with the words ‘Flynn Lavellan’ written clumsily across the front. Someone had left this here while he had been crying.
One hand moved tentatively to touch the cover. Slowly, as if the book would bite if he startled it. He carefully picked it up and then moved to a cross legged position to read it easier.
It was well worn and filled with sloppy writing like that on the front. Some of it wasn’t even legible, but Haleir could make out a few lines like ‘this is prison’ and ‘I hate Skyhold.’ Both of which made the elf chuckle. Even when practicing writing, Flynn couldn’t help but talk about how much Skyhold sucked.
Haleir continued to rummage through the pages until he noticed something sticking out from between two pages near the back of the book. He flipped to that page and found a starling feather. It was flattened, pressed from being the book for so long. He picked up the feather to look at it and noticed how blank these pages were. There was only one sentence written here, in noticeably improved handwriting.
