Listen to "Bring Him Home" by Colm Wilkinson
Sister Nightingale stands out on the balcony overlooking the mountains surrounding Skyhold. She stares out at the spires of white jutting up out of the ground. Clenched between her hands is his letter, the letter from her lover. He has told her that he is leaving to the far west, to find an answer to the Calling. He says it's for the best. That this will save him and keep him with her longer. And she knows he is right; he is when it's about the Wardens.
Still, she cannot help the anxiety building in her heart. She feared for his safety and she wanted to go with him. But her place was here, here serving the Inquisition. She felt so powerless, a feeling that she did not enjoy. She was thousands of miles away from him. She could do nothing.
Suddenly, she knew what she could do. Kneeling on the cold stone, Leliana clasped her hands before her and bowed her head. Humbling herself before the Maker, she closed her eyes and began to sing.
She prayed for the safe return of her Warden. She prayed for his success. She opened up her heart to the Maker, to show Him her love of the Warden. She prayed that her love not be harmed, choosing to shoulder any harm done against him. Even as tears leaked out of her closed eyes, she did not falter from her prayer. Even as the door behind her opened, showing her shocked agents and a concerned Inquisitor, she continued her ballad. It was only after her song that a quiet sob escaped her lips. Slowly she stood, wiping her eyes and running makeup. She folded the letter, placing it in the many folds of her outfit. With her head held high, she turned to face the small crowd, greeting the Inquisitor and ushering her people back to work. She had done all she could, and now it was up to the Maker.
Far out to the West, beyond the known world, the Warden troughed up a steep hill. Leaning on his walking cane, he wiped the sweat from his brow. Soon enough, he reached the top of the hill. Standing tall, he rested his hands on his hips, overlooking the rough terrain around him. A gentle wind blew past him, carrying the scent of Andraste's Grace. Closing his eyes, he breathes in the scent, memories of Leliana filling his head. Opening his eyes, he surveys the land again. Before where there was rough terrain, a single safe path seemed to appear. Chuckling, the Warden smirked and cast his eyes skyward before heading down the safe path.