Skyhold was filled with ghosts. Ghosts of the past, ghosts of the deceased. Ghosts of things Atreus wished had never come to pass. He had saw them one morning when he was training his troops—the pair of them. Atreus recognized Clarus first—one of his own ( or well was one of his own Templars ) Then the idenity of his companion hit him—just like Lanley's sword which had gotten under Atreus' guard and cracked him in the shoulder and left him sore and aching and bleeding.
It was fine, he was fine.
Maybe he deserved this pain.
Certainly he did for what he had done to Regis in the past.
It had taken two hours for Atreus to shoo off the healers trying to pour their mana in a wound that wouldn't heal due to a Templar's magical resistance. Instead he'd been bandaged and sent on his way, straight into the path of the person Atreus wanted to avoid until he could think of what to say.
What do you say to someone that you hurt so bad they feared you? Because sorry doesn't even begin to cut it.
Atreus could feel Clarus' gaze burning into him, the man standing at Regis' left with hand ready to go for his sword—Atreus didn't blame him he would too if the situation was reversed.
“Regis... Clarus..” Atreus dipped his head low following into a bow, a wince escaping him as his shoulder pulled and knee creaked.
Clarus said nothing, merely stepping closer to his husband, fingers splaying at his back for support.
“Let us leave, Regis.” Clarus murmured loud enough for them all to hear.
@lucisvowed
