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It was beautiful.
Standing in the last light of the sun as it fell. You could feel the heat of the flames still burning, the feeling of magic still flitting through the air.. the ice finally thawing.
You collapsed without a word, finally letting your weapon fall to your side. After so long.
So long..
Soldiers that still stood left, abandoning the fight or just giving up.
Their war was done, but you didn’t think you won.
If anything, you lost .
Heat blossomed in your chest as the blood pooled in front of you.
Oh, how you had lost.
You reached out with your arm, wishing you still had your other, just so you could..
Cold .
He was so cold.
You just wanted to hold him.
Cold fingers brushing against equally cold cheeks, tracing features you were sure you’d never forget.
When you met him on this battlefield, you thought you’d finally stopped. That he’d done the same.
Foolish .
You still loved him.
A sob tore from your throat.
Why ?
You felt arms wrap around you, more and more wrapping around.
You turned, hot tears running down your cheeks, seeing all your friends here. By your side til the end.
They were so warm .
You let them drag you away.
Away from the battlefield.
Away from the fighting.
Away from the death.
Away from him .
You stood on the balcony of Skyhold, staring at the shambles of the once great fortress.
You wondered, why, of all things, your room survived the destruction. Your room and his rotunda.
His rotunda.. because how could it be anything else?
You shook your head, dispersing the unanswerable questions from your mind.
You looked upon the ruins once more, the smoke of fires in the distance.
And you couldn’t help but.. Find it beautiful .
Because, it was, afterall.. What Pride had rought.