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Seanna was too old to be a maiden, but too young to be a maid. Instead, she was caught in that odd space between. Where her spirit was still wild and free as the hills around her home. And yet, she had knowledge of the world. Of pain, and loss, and what horrors death could bring. Of comfort, and solace, and the slow things that crafted joy.
Such as watching Blackwall work, his rough hands carving masterpieces from mahogany. She would have to find him more logs, she smiled, as she leaned against the barn’s post. Her vibrant eyes, so like her father's, watched his every move: the way his muscles corded and tensed as sweat gathered on his brow, the tight press of his mouth as he concentrated, how his gaze often subtly flickered to her in the corner.
Neither spoke in this quiet peace, for no words were needed. He worked, and she watched. Such was their way, always had been. From the first moment she saw him on her father's farm in the Hinterlands, when he watched her race the Inquisitor through her makeshift course.
She insisted on coming along and leaving the farm. The excuse had been that a horse master would need a helper, but the truth had been so much more than that simple explanation.
And so love grew in the quiet moments between assignments and obligations. He swore his devotion, and she promised her love as they lay in the flickering candlelight of the loft of the barn.
Though sometimes she noticed a sadness, a far off look, as they basked in the glow of each other. There was an occasional tightening of his smile, a tensing of his hand, as if he was reaching for something in the past before he pulled away and back into the present with her.
Maybe that's why it came as such a shock, and yet not.
The day the illusion crashed down around her like the ruins of Haven had started like any other. Feed the horses, muck the stalls, all part of her usual routine.
Until a shadow fell over her in the doorway of the stable. Looking up from her duties, she saw the last person she ever expected as the Inquisitor stepped forward with a measured pace.
“My lady,” she said with deference as she nodded her head. Her footsteps were sure as she stood and made her way forward. “Had I known you were going out today I would have ensured your mount was ready. Let me–”
But she was halted as the Inquisitor raised her hand, something almost sad passing in the depths of her blue eyes as she sighed and rubbed her temples. It was not often Seanna had seen the woman look so… lost? Hurt? She was always such a strong and capable leader, but right now she looked every part the tired woman with too much resting upon her young shoulders.
“Seanna,” she said softly as she closed the space between them. There was an understanding in the gentle tilt of her head to the side, one that made Seanna's heart stutter for a reason she could not name. “We… need to talk. I think you deserve to know what has happened– what will happen shortly. Because Blackwall is not who he claims.”
And with those words, her quiet reality shattered into a million pieces of jagged pain.
*****
Seanna had grown much older in the space of a few hours. She was a girl who had once held onto a dream, a fantasy that had now grown colder than the winds that came down from the Frostback Mountains.
Blackwall– no his name…his real name was Thom– was in the dungeons. They came and carried him away under the Inquisitor's orders, the woman standing there holding her hand the whole time as she silently sobbed. Though there was some small comfort in that he did not fight against the Wardens who dragged him away. He walked with his shoulders back as he faced his fate, though his eyes never left hers until he disappeared into the depths of the keep.
The betrayal rocked Skyhold to its core. But as much as she knew those around her were reeling, she could hardly see them through the cloud of her own pain.
So she did the only thing she knew. She saddled her favorite Ferelden Forder, packed a small bag, and made to leave.
She was at the gate before she was stopped. A tall man stepped forward, handsome of face in Warden blue. Nathaniel, he introduced himself, though she knew him as the one who had discovered the lies Blackwall spun. And she didn't grudge him for that, couldn't, though the sight of him tore at her heart all the same.
He only spoke to call her name, stepping forward as he held out a lone piece of parchment. It was hastily folded, the edges frayed with guilt and sorrow’s caress. And while she didn't want to read the words she knew she would find, she took the offered letter all the same.
Because she had to know, and had to bear that pain. Even as she ran from the one place that reminded her most of him.
A nod of thanks was all she gave before she kicked her horse's sides and set off to find what peace the wilds could offer.
She rode far into the evening, to where she did not know. Maybe back to the comfort of the fields she had once called home, or into a new unknown as she chased some fragile solace.
Finally she rested by a stream, allowing her horse to graze as she rested against the biting bark of a lone tree. The moonlight and stars overhead offered her their consolation as she pulled the note from her saddlebag, fingers trembling as she unfolded the corners and read the words she had been running from for hours.
There is no way to adequately express my regrets, my lady. No way to tell you how ashamed I am to have hurt you so deeply.
But know that while I have lied many times in my life, the one truth has always been that I loved you.
And whatever fate awaits me now, I hope it is enough to atone for how I have wronged you. Because while my misdeeds are many, perhaps my greats are the sins I have committed against you.
And with the reading of those sparse few lines, Seanna drew her knees to her chest and gave fully into her heartbreak. The quiet of the night accepted her tears, and gave her space to just be.