Prompt: the defeat of the Dread Wolf and the crashing down of his plans. / femAdaar x Josephine
For Bighead98 u/4215273/
TW: character death
A man she once called her friend kneels before her, his head bowed as his eyes gaze at her feet. Both his will and his power are broken, though moments ago her soldiers trembled in fear of his terrifying form. Blood drips from the open wound on his cheek, from his broken nose. Red drops stain his splendid armour that once glistened in the sun as if he was a king.
Not a king but a god, or so some claim. The Inquisitor doesn't know this god; she once knew a man, a friend but now she's not sure if they really were friends.
I trusted you, Herah Adaar thinks. She can't speak anymore, words taste like ash on her tongue.
She can barely look at him, not after so many died because of his mad plan. Not after he claimed to be her dear friend, and she was naïve enough to believe him.
"Finish what you started, Inquisitor," Solas says, his voice barely a whisper.
Her hand holding a dagger shakes. The wound on her temple stings, countless bruises and cuts hurt. She can barely stand straight, her whole body aches, and she fears that she will collapse any second. But she won't; she can't give up, not now when they finally won.
Her soldiers, a laughably small fraction of the ones who survived until now, stand silently behind her. They wouldn't dare to move or interrupt her in this moment, the moment of victory. It's supposed to be their triumph, so why it feels like they lost?
It has to be me. Herah takes a deep breath. She grips the handle of her dagger, feeling her strength slowly return. I am the Inquistor.
The arm she lost hurts somehow, pain pulsating in waves. If she closed her eyes she could pretend she feels the Mark burning bright on her left hand.
Solas lifts up his head and looks at her with so much sadness in his eyes she nearly believes he truly regrets his actions.
He doesn't, this is merely an act, like everything else. Like their friendship.
What do you see when you look at me? She wonders, taking a step forward. She's far from the image of the mighty Inquisitor, her black hair dirty just like her face, clothes torn and splattered with blood.
What does a god see when he looks at others?
The tip of her dagger touches his neck. Solas doesn't even flinch, doesn't move or speak. He doesn't react at all, not even when she presses it down and drops of blood appear on his skin.
Herah stills her trembling hand. She has to remember what he's done, how many lives perished because of his plans and scheming, what he unleashed when he wanted to tear down the Veil.
How he lied to her since the moment they met years ago that faithful day.
Solas looks up at her, a smile brushes his thin lips.
"Goodbye, my friend."
Their eyes meet, and there is nothing but peace in his. Herah screams, though it sounds more like a growl of some rabid animal, all her despair and fury focused in her voice. She slices his throat open, blood splatters on her clothes, on the grass beneath their feet. She blinks back tears that gather in her eyes and strikes again before he falls face down. His body trembles once, twice, and Adaar takes a step back to witness the end of a god.
The dagger falls down from her hand, then her knees touch the ground as what remained of her strength leaves her. She hears her soldiers cheer, or scream, or cry, she doesn't know. The sound is distorted as if something was covering her ears, but it's loud, echoing in her blissfully empty mind.
The Inquisitor looks up; the sky is bright, indifferent to what's happening below. Even though Herah closes her eyes shut the tears won't stop, and her whole body shakes as she cries for what was lost.
She barely remembers going back to Skyhold. People are cheering and celebrating all around her, yet Adaar finds it difficult to join them. Something stirs impatiently in her soul. She'd like to hide somewhere and sleep for at least a hundred years. She can't, obviously. The Inquisitor must be present during the celebrations.
Only when she sees the one person dear to her heart she can finally smile, for the first time since the downfall of a man who claimed to be a god.
Josephine wraps her arms around her, pulls her close in a warm embrace. The ambassador is soft, smells like roses, and most importantly she's alive and safe.
"I missed you," she says, and Adaar's heart sings because there's nothing but honesty and love in Josephine's words.
"Send a message to Leliana at once," Herah whispers into Josephine's hair. It's hard to let go; she wishes she could stay like this forever. "She may be the Divine, but she's the spymaster first and foremost. Besides, she likes to be well–informed."
"You need to rest," Josephine insists, placing a kiss on Adaar's cheek. "I'll take care of everything, but you have to go to bed. Get some rest, my love."
"In a moment," Herah says.
Her whole body seems to weigh a tone. Her fingers are tangled in Josephine's locks, and she wishes she had both hands to hold her lover. She wishes so many things lately, with every need feeling more pathetic.
"I want to hold you for a little bit longer." The Inquisitor lets out a sigh and closes her eyes, the warmth of the woman who loves her making her believe there's still hope left in this world.
