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“I swear, on my life, I will not let you do this. I’ll show you the error of your ways, Solas! I’ll show you this world is worth living in…” Inquisitor Lysandre Lavellan cried out.
Solas turned to look at his friend mournfully. “I await being proven wrong once again, dear Inquisitor. I will not forget you.” He turned and walked through the eluvian, ripples flowing out in the mirror where he stood.
Lysandre felt the empty tears fall from his cheeks as he clutched at the flaring Anchor on his hand. Pain shot up through his arm, causing him to double over. Blood was roaring in his ears, preventing him from hearing Dorian’s empty crying of his name through the message crystal. He did not hear Sera and Cassandra’s desperation as they screamed at the eluvian he had walked through. He did not hear Iron Bull trying to comfort Dorian. He did not hear Blackwall and Varric as they searched vigorously for him. Vivienne’s spells attempting to activate the elvhen mirror. Cole’s panicked cries. He heard none of it as he stumbled onto his feet.
The sky had darkened with patches of overcast. Lysandre looked up at the setting sun in the distance. The colors were beautiful, he noted. Reds and purples and golds stretched behind the darkened clouds. Stars were barely in sight. His copper red hair, dampened with sweat from battle, fell onto his forehead. He weakly pushed it back with his free hand. Dorian’s cries had gotten louder and more desperate.
“Lysandre! Amatus! Please, answer me! Don’t you dare die in there!!” The Tevinter’s voice fell on deafened ears.
The Dalish elf stood in front of the eluvian, taking a moment to take in his reflection. His left ear had a notch from where a Qunari arrow had hit him. Blood trickled from his mouth and nose. His leg had been severely wounded, yet he still stood. The green light of the Anchor shone on the eluvian and illuminated his warm brown eyes. He looked miserable, yet he still carried on.
‘Must get to safety. Must find Leliana. Tell about Solas. Must find Dorian. Tell him I’m okay…’
Lysandre stumbled forward, his presence activating the eluvian. He thought he could see Solas standing behind him, but when he turned, no one was there. He sighed, turning back. Muttering a small prayer to Mythal, he walked through the eluvian.
“Lysandre!!” The desperate companions cried out to their leader.
Dorian sprinted forward and caught Lysandre in his arms as the Inquisitor collapsed. All energy left him as he looked into Dorian’s grey eyes. A weak smile crossed his face, and he ignored the pain his split lip caused him.
“Ma vhenan… You’re alright…!” Lysandre weakly said.
Tears fell from Dorian’s face, and his eye makeup smudged. Dorian offered him a bright smile.
“Lysandre… amatus… Don’t you dare do that again…” He muttered, holding his love close.
Lysandre coughed, lurching forward and causing more blood to spurt from his nose. Cassandra and Sera darted over to their location. Blackwall and Varric stood behind them, weapons at the ready. The broken Inquisitor’s coughs died down and he fell back into Dorian’s embrace. Blood now coated his chest, covering the message crystal.
Dorian moved to heal his amatus’ wounds, but Lysandre gently grabbed his hand, shaking his head slightly.
“I’m sorry, Dorian… I don’t think I’ll-”
“Don’t finish that sentence.” Dorian interjected. “Don’t you dare.”
“Lys, please don’t do this to me!” Sera yelled. “You’ll survive, yeah? You always do!”
A pool of blood stretched out beneath the dying Lysandre, dripping between the tiles of the stone floor. It had splattered over Dorian and Sera, yet neither seemed to care. The companions had gathered in a semi circle around Lysandre, watching mournfully. Some of them had accepted the reality staring in front of them; others had the same idea as Sera. He had survived fighting Corypheus, he was fine. Right?
Varric lowered his head in shame. He thought back to when the elf had arrived in Haven. Varric had told him that the story never ends well for heroes, and Lysandre had become one. He loathed himself for the comment.
All of the companions were surprised when they heard Lysandre’s soft voice begin to sing.
“Don’t you fret, M’sieur Pavus…” The Inquisitor sang, looking lovingly up at Dorian. “I don’t feel any pain…”
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Several small drops of rain fell, lightly hitting the bloodied stones.
“A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now…” Lysandre chuckled bitterly.
He reached up and weakly cupped Dorian’s tear stained cheek. “You’re here… That’s all I need to know…”
He took in a few shallow breaths. “And you will keep me safe… And you will keep me close… And the rain will make the flowers grow…”
Dorian’s deep voice accompanied his own. “But you will live, my love, oh Maker above. If I could close your wounds with words of love…”
“Just hold me now… and let it be. Shelter me… Comfort me…”
Vivienne bowed her head, trying to mask the sense of dread that twisted in her gut.
“So don’t you fret, M’sieur Pavus… I don’t feel any pain…”
“You won’t feel any pain…”
Dorian held the hand that had tried to hold him. The Anchor’s light was beginning to dim.
“A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now…” Their voices harmonized. Lysandre took in another sharp breath. Tears began to trail down Lysandre’s bloodied cheek. Dorian gently squeezed the elf’s hand.
“I’m here.” He said reassuringly.
“That’s all I need to know…” Lysandre smiled.
“And you will keep me safe…”
“And I will stay with you.”
“And… you will keep me close…”
“Until you sleep.”
Rain had begun to fall lightly onto the small crowd. The falling drops washed away the blood on Lysandre’s face. His breaths became quicker as he tried to lean up to Dorian.
“And rain…” He began.
“And rain.” Dorian mimicked.
“Will make the flowers…”
“Will make the flowers.”
The Anchor’s light was nearly gone. Lysandre, using all his remaining strength, lightly kissed Dorian’s lips. He then fell back, eased down be Dorian’s arm. His eyes moved from Dorian, to his friends, to the sky above. He gave a small smile before taking his final breath.
“... grow…”
For a brief moment, there was no sound but the rain.
Sudden thunder and pouring rain only just managed to drown out the anguished cries of Dorian Pavus. The companions, all stricken by the same grief and further saddened by the mage’s cries, bowed their heads and wept silent tears. Cassandra felt a lump in her throat as she knelt down and placed a reassuring hand on Dorian’s shoulder. He clung onto the now limp body of Lysandre Dawn Lavellan. Tevine curses left his mouth rapidly, denying the reality he was faced with.
“Please, let this just be a nightmare!” He cried. “Please! He’s all I have! Don’t take him away!”
“Dorian…” Cassandra said, her voice nearly breaking.
“No! I won’t accept this!” Dorian’s sobs drowned his words. He pressed his forehead to Lysandre’s like the elf had done to him so many times before.
Memories of Lysandre flooded the minds of all of those gathered. Flashes of his animated expressions, the way he would visit every one of them every day to ensure things were alright, the hours he had spent making certain everyone was as happy and safe as they could be. His laughter, his smile, the love he gave to everyone. His naivety, his big heart, his valor. The songs he would play on his violin, the very one that laid broken on the bloodstained floor.
Another sob joined the magister’s. Everyone’s heart shattered when they realized it was Cole, who knelt next to his dead friend, holding desperately onto the hand that had killed him.
“You said you wouldn’t leave.” He muttered. “You said we would help everyone. You told me you wanted to be with him. Don’t be dead, don’t be dead… Don’t leave him, don’t leave me…”
His large hat sheltered Lysandre’s face from the rain. Several of the others joined their sobs, including Sera and Iron Bull, two of the closest to the Inquisitor. Blackwall gently pushed past Cole and slowly took the body of their friend from Dorian. He held the small frame of Lysandre like he was a fragile doll.
The Inner Circle of the Inquisition slowly marched through the Crossroads, following Blackwall’s lead. Dorian and Cole walked on either side of Blackwall. Not one of them spoke. There were no words to be said.
As they crossed through the eluvian leading back to Orlais, the melancholy hung over them. Orlesian nobles and spectators gasped as they saw the corpse of the noble Inquisitor Lavellan. Dorian’s tears had dried. Cole’s had not. Maryden noticed immediately, rushing forward to the boy. No words were said.
Divine Victoria’s worried voice could be heard through the door to the assembly room. She was arguing with a Ferelden noble when they opened the doors. Leliana’s jaw dropped and she covered her gaping mouth. Several nobles screamed at the sight. Josephine dropped her clipboard, audibly gasping.
“In- Inquisitor?!” She whispered as she rushed forward.
Cullen ran from the left side of Leliana’s grand table to Josephine’s side. He tore his uniform glove off and grabbed Lysandre’s wrist, feeling desperately for a pulse. After finding none, he rested his head on Lysandre’s bloodied chest. After hearing nothing, he stood and gulped.
“Inquisitor Lavellan is… dead.” His somber voice called out to the Exalted Council.
“No…” Leliana muttered. “No no no no… I’m not losing another hero…” She rushed around the table and came forward, causing the crowd of nobles that had formed to part.
“Lysandre, please! Please no!” Josephine said, makeup being smeared by the river of tears that fell from her eyes.
“I… It is true…” Dorian whispered. “He’s gone…”
Cries and sobs sounded throughout the assembly hall as the people of the Council mourned the Inquisitor that had saved them all.