So my Xbox profile got corrupted and deleted itself, which in turn deleted my 3rd Inquisition playthrough that I had 35+ hours on. I can't get it back and to deal with this loss, I wrote some sad fic about my Inquisitor, Pascal Trevelyan. This is set pre-grove romance scene with Cassandra and during the end of the Here Lies the Abyss quest. Fic title is from Oh Death by Noah Gundersen, cover image was drawn by me.

This wasn't the first time Pascal was ever in the Fade. He had passed his Harrowing and he'd like to think he was a rather talented mage. Hell, he even chose to specialize in rift magic. But this was the first time he was entering it physically, the other time he couldn't bring himself to remember. All he did remember was a sense of security, a blessed feeling, that the Maker had chosen him to survive and save the world.

Too bad he knew that wasn't true.

When he learned that a demented darkspawn magister was the one who accidentally gave him his powers, he tried to play it off. He would laugh and say the Maker worked in mysterious ways. He was the Herald of Andraste, anyway. That's what everyone thought, that's what he believed, even when his faith had faltered. Now his faith was broken. The Maker didn't choose him. Andraste didn't lead him out of the Fade. It was just a spirit masquerading as Divine Justinia who happened to save him.

Pascal had brought his normal team with him; Varric, Cassandra, and Iron Bull, along with the new additions of the Champion of Kirkwall and Stroud. Each of his companions were dealing with their Fade journey in their own ways, and Pascal was kidding around as he always had. He had to hide what he was feeling inside.

"Never thought the Fade would have so many spiders," Pascal said, "I imagined something a bit scarier from a nightmare demon."

"You're lucky you're only seeing spiders," Iron Bull replied.

As they explored, Pascal had found a small graveyard. Spookily enough, each tombstone was marked with each of his companions' names and their fears. Became His Parents. Helplessness. Madness. He had wondered where his tombstone was, what his fear would say. Perhaps disappointment? He had always worried his magic abilities would look bad on his very Chantry-driven family. It made him determined to master his powers. Or maybe he didn't want to disappoint others, like Cassandra. She looked at him with such admiration, a feeling he had shared for her. Well, he had a lot more feelings for her, he just never had the chance to put it in the right words. He could be running out of time to say them, which was another fear.

They had reached what seemed like the end. The demon had taunted them all this way, and even with the spirit's help, Pascal had felt numb. As the team fought the aspect of the demon, it was hard for him to form coherent thoughts. Everything felt automated, like his body was twirling his staff and causing blizzards without much of his own effort. Things slowed down and he took extra time to watch the others fight.

Iron Bull threw his weight into each swing, wanting to carve out a piece of the monster while trying to forget he was physically in the Fade. On a turn within a whirlwind attack, Bull would always take a cautious glance at Pascal and Varric and make sure the ranged fighters were safe. Varric also kept an eye on the whole battlefield, sending bolts to creatures who were trying to flank them or attack from afar. Cassandra focused her righteous fury on the main aspect of the nightmare demon, and cared little for the danger around her. Pascal waved his hand and a magic barrier washed over her. That always made him feel a little better.

The person he had found surprisingly interesting was Hawke. He didn't really know how he was going to get along with her. He certainly heard rumors that she and her husband were pretty pro-templar, and she was more of a do-gooder when Pascal could be silly, but Hawke was never rude to him. She just looked world-weary, a feeling he didn't fully understand until right now. She had the same type of huge axe that Bull used, and she definitely had the same type of skill with the weapon, but her moves were slightly slower. Like she was carrying more weight than just a huge axe that Pascal probably couldn't even pick up.

With the combined efforts of the team, there were able to subdue the aspect of the demon. Pascal used the last of his strength to throw a stonefist at the monster, shattering it into the Fade. An exit from the Fade opened and they all started rushing towards it. Varric and Iron Bull slipped through first, while Cassandra worriedly looked back towards Pascal.

"Go," he said, with a comforting smile, "I'm right behind you."

Cassandra nodded seriously and went back into the real world. He would have followed her like he promised, but the nightmare demon had not been so easily defeated. A gigantic spider-looking thing crossed their paths, preventing them from exiting. Pascal, Hawke, and Stroud all looked at each other. Shit, Pascal thought, I went ahead and jinxed it, didn't I?

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," he said, "But I don't think that thing will let us pass."

"I can deal with it," Hawke said with her brow furrowed. Pascal thought of what Varric would say to that, if he hadn't already made it.

"No," Stroud said valiantly, his sword gripped tightly in his hand, "I cannot bare to think this all came from the Grey Warden's involvement. I will be the one to take it down, and redeem my order's name."

"The Grey Wardens were wrongly manipulated into doing this. Their faults should not be something you have to bear, Stroud," Hawke countered.

"Well I know how to break a stalemate," Pascal said, "I'll do it."

Hawke and Stroud looked at him like he was crazy. They both tried to object but Pascal raised his hand, the one with the mark, and smiled softly.

"I'm the Herald of Andraste," Pascal said with fake confidence, "And I must admit I have some more Fade experience than either of you two. I know I can do this. If things can tough, I'll just open another rift and hop on out of here."

"Can you do that?" Stroud asked.

No. The mark usually closes, not opens. "Sure."

Hawke, the most pessimistic one out of the trio, said, "And what if you can't?" He briefly wondered if she was actually pessimistic or just easily saw through his façade. Her question was a hard one. Pascal had definite doubt in his mind that this was possible. They all knew the one staying behind was the one sacrificing themselves, but no one wanted to say it. But Pascal wasn't the Herald of Andraste he said he was. He was the guy that was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Did the Maker put him there? He had no idea. The one thing he did know was that the Inquisitor could've been anybody, and it ended up being him. He used his power to build the best damn organization he had ever seen. Cullen's soldiers, Josephine's diplomats, and Leliana's spies - they could do anything now, with or without him. He had been a symbol of hope as the Herald. He was going to continue being a symbol of hope, but as a martyr.

"Then I don't," he put it simply, "and the Inquisition goes on without me. Don't let them lose their purpose, even though I know they won't. Make sure Varric writes a good book about me. And tell Cass," Oh Maker, what should he say? That he loved her? Was that too forward? He hadn't said it to her in person yet, he didn't think she'd appreciate it coming from Hawke. "Tell her I'm sorry."

Pascal drew his staff and sent a bolt of ice at the spider's face. He began to run and draw the beast away from Stroud and Hawke. It obliged, seeing the Inquisitor as a tasty snack, and moved to allow the other two to escape. Seeing them make it and the portal close behind them was strangely comforting. He knew he was doing the right thing.

Thanks for reading. I hope to have a follow-up chapter by the end of the week.