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It was just a letter, what harm could it do?
He arrived at the corner of the market in Hightown at noon. It was where she would be Maddox told him, by the south pillar, selling trinkets and flower posies tied up with ribbon. It wasn’t unusual to observe a Templar out here this time of day, but the market was bustling. If seen by the wrong people, he might be reported. Thus he waited, and watched the crowd until he was sure no one would recognise him.
She was petite, a round lovely face, dimpled cheeks, dark eyes and dark hair tied loosely behind her. There were pink flowers in her hair. When he approached, her smile was wide and welcoming.
“A flower for you, Ser Templar?”
He waved his hand dismissively.
“Perhaps a bracelet or a necklace? These stones come from Rivain.”
“Do you know Maddox?” His voice was a hoarse whisper above the background noise.
The smile dropped from her face, replaced with a mask of suspicion. “I might? What of it? I’m not a mage if–“
He put his gloved hand up to stop her talking and with the other, he pushed the paper into her hand and departed before she could respond.
It was just a letter, what harm could it do?
He became used to her smile. It could fuel the market place at night with how bright it shone when she noticed his approach. The same routine, repeated many times, made it difficult to hide how cheerful it made him.
“A flower for you, Ser Templar? Or perhaps a trinket with stones from Rivain.” Her voice as sweet as her face. He began to understand Maddox’s attraction.
“Are they really from Rivain?” he asked. A familiar smirk formed at the corners of his mouth.
“Close enough.” She tilted her head and mirrored his grin.
He nodded his head. She passed him a small posy of flowers, sweet and pink like her lips, like the ones she always wore in her hair. He slipped her several coin and Maddox’s letter.
When she smiled that smile, he felt complete for the rest of the day.
It was just a letter, what harm could it do?
It had been weeks. He still hadn’t the courage to face her, to tell her what happened, to tell her somebody she loved could no longer return her feelings. His reasons were purely selfish. The first was the withdrawal, which sent him into a spiral of pain. The second, the one that caused him to avoid her on his way to beg the Chantry for aid, was her smile. He had no desire to witness it disappear from her face. Nor did he wish for her to experience his pain regarding what happened; to mar her pretty features with wrinkled questioning, or her heart to undergo the pang of emotional loss.
When he finally succeeded in contacting the dealer, all thanks to the one benevolent Chantry sister, he decided he could no longer be a coward. He needed to speak with her as much as he needed to fuel his habit. He owed Maddox that much, at least.
It was just a letter, what harm could it do?
The sun was high in the sky before he ventured into Hightown market. He spotted her sheltering under cover but still selling her wares. She didn’t notice him draw near as this was the first time he’d approached her without his Templar armour. He looked drawn; heavy bags under his eyes and his clothes were the same as those worn by nearly every commoner of Kirkwall.
“I’d like a posy.” He asked, knowing it would take what little coin he had left.
She looked up to him, eyes wide, dimpled cheeks and round face half a smile. She looked him over and her brow furrowed.
He shook his head. “I have no letter for you today.”
“I haven’t seen you in weeks, Ser Templar. Where is your armour? Is everything all right?”
He stared at her, tempted to tell her Maddox is dead. For a moment, he contemplated she might be better off not knowing Maddox’s fate, but he couldn’t lie. “I’m sorry, there will be no more letters.” He gulped as he spoke.
Her eyes widened and her hand went to her mouth to capture a gasp. She began to cry, “No, no,” she said softly. She knew without him telling her what had happened. She had lost her love, not to the Maker, but to something far worse.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I couldn’t—”
He stood awkwardly by, wanting to comfort her, to hold her and say everything was okay, but he simply stood there until she looked up at him through copious tears.
“Is he safe?” She asked.
“I – I think he is.” He nodded. He knew the circle was the best place for a tranquil to be. If he were out on the streets, it would signify certain death.
She rubbed her face on her sleeve as a customer approached. She gave her a wide smile. “A posy my lady? Or perhaps a garland? I have trinkets here made with the finest stones from Rivain.”
He took a step back before disappearing back to Lowtown.
It was just a letter, what harm could it do?
Several months later, after a disturbance in the qunari compound caused chaos throughout the city, he’d resolved to return to Hightown, to find her, to ensure she was unharmed.
It’s quiet. A light patter of rain hits the cobblestones, and when he looked to where she normally stood there was only her upturned cart. He picked up a garland of pink flowers as he approached. He asked a nearby merchant if he knew what happened to her. The merchant told him he saw her flee the market and likely the city along with countless other citizens. Of her fate, the merchant didn’t know.
The rain fell heavier until the drains began to overflow. He crushed the garland in his palm until the petals fell on the ground and washed away with the rain.
“It was just a letter,” he mouthed quietly. “What harm could it do?”