It didn't get easier. The weeks following Maud's death weighed heavy on Orsino's shoulders. He couldn't sleep. He barely ate. He didn't leave his bed. The floor of his cell was littered with books carelessly tossed to the side. Nothing of substance; just distractions.

Sixteen days after her death and Orsino stopped feeling altogether. The tears ran dry. He couldn't move. Even the pain was dulled, but only to be replaced with a thick fog that obscured his other emotions. His days were spent staring blankly at the wall. Thinking nothing. Feeling nothing.

Maybe it was better this way. No one knew how to act around him. Most people would apologize. Every apology felt the same. The sincere ones, the awkward ones, the rehearsed ones, the pitying ones. All they did was remind Orsino of his pain. In fact, everything outside of his new quarters was a reminder.

The only person who could stand to be near him was Quentin, but they shared a room so it wasn't like either of them had much of a choice. Quentin had this glow about him, a shield of joy that protected him from Orsino's unrelenting misery. Apparently Eleanor responded positively to Quentin's letters, instead of with absolute horror like Orsino suspected. Whenever he would receive a letter from his lover, Quentin had the same shine in his eye that Maud used to get whenever she heard back from her family. It was a reason to get up in the morning. It was a short moment where someone could forget they were a mage and be fooled into thinking that they were a real person.

Orsino would have killed to have a distraction like that.

Quentin floated into the room, a slender bouquet of white lilies tucked carefully under his arm. Orsino stopped bothering to ask how he was getting these items smuggled into the Gallows. Mostly because he no longer cared.

"You're still in bed," Quentin murmured, but it didn't seem that he was attempting to start a conversation so much as he was just trying to fill the silence.

The silence returned when Orsino rolled onto his side, his back facing Quentin.

Behind him, he heard a sigh and the gentle rustle of the lilies being set down on the table.

"Maybe if you just-"

"Don't," Orsino cut him off.

"I want to help you, Orsino,"

"Unless you can bring her back, I don't want to hear it."

Orsino heard Quentin sigh again.

"I can't stand to watch you waste away like this."

"That's all we can do most of the time," Orsino furrowed his brow as his fingers picked at the frayed ends of his blanket. "All we can do is watch as the ones we love suffer. Because what can we do? We're mages. It's not like I could cast a spell that would make her happy. I couldn't make her life worth living. I couldn't…"

Orsino looked over his shoulder and saw Quentin sitting across the room, simply nodding as he spoke.

"Talking about it should help."

Orsino turned back around, pressing his forehead against the cold stone wall.

"Whatever. I'm not going out there. This cell is the only place in the Gallows that doesn't constantly remind me of her."

"You're finally talking, so I'll consider today a major step forward," the cot creaked as Quentin stood up. "I'll bring you dinner again. Any preferences?"

"I don't care. It all tastes the same."

"Well, that's Circle cuisine for you," Quentin responded with a chuckle. "I'll be back soon."

The cell door jolted closed as Quentin left, and once again Orsino was alone. He let his arm dangle off the side of his bed for a moment before sliding his hand underneath his mattress. After a bit of searching, his fingers found the envelope containing the letter from Maud. Still unopened. Orsino closed his eyes. His cell disappeared. The Gallows disappeared. All that mattered was that envelope. The last piece of her he had left.

Orsino opened his eyes, a ragged breath escaping his lips.

He couldn't open it yet.

It just didn't feel right.

Meredith rushed through the halls of the Gallows with a stack of paper held tightly against her chest. Her body was sore and her hair was still sweaty from practice, but she didn't care. Wentworth asked for the report five hours ago, but she got so caught up in training that it slipped her mind. She didn't even have time to scold herself for her carelessness. There would be plenty of time for that after the paperwork was delivered.

She skidded to a stop when she finally reached the door to his office. Meredith allowed herself a few seconds to fix her hair and armor so she didn't look like she just ran there from the other side of the Gallows, although her flushed skin and heavy breathing probably gave that away.

"I am so sorry, Knight Captain," Meredith opened the door, forgetting to knock in the commotion. "Training went on longer than I expected. It won't happen again."

The surface of the Knight Captain's desk could hardly be seen from underneath the mountains of paperwork strewn about. Near the corner of the desk was a bowl of room-temperature stew, still mostly full from lunch, or possibly yesterday's lunch. The spoon was on the floor below where it most likely fell.

Wentworth was sitting behind his desk, his eyes lost in a vacant stare. He didn't seem to notice that Meredith was even in the room.

"Knight Captain?" she cautiously stepped closer to him. "Is this a bad time? I can come back later."

Wentworth blinked a few times then sat up straighter in his chair.

"Oh, Meredith. I didn't see you come in."

"I brought the report you asked for," Meredith held the papers out. "I'm sorry for not getting it to you sooner."

Wentworth stared at the report in her hand.

"Report?"

"From this afternoon," the shame Meredith was already feeling in her gut burned even more.

"Oh, yes," Wentworth spoke slowly as he reached a hesitant hand out for the papers. "Thank you. I'll look over this now."

Meredith watched as the report joined the ocean of paperwork on his desk.

"Do you need help organizing some of this?"

The Knight Captain shook his head,

"That won't be necessary. You've already done so much for me."

He's angry at you for being late with the report. He knows you'll just mess everything up again. Just like you did during the lockdown.

Meredith tried to push these thoughts to the back of her mind and nodded.

"Thank you, Ser," she stopped to wave away a fly that was circling over the bowl of stew. "Can I at least clean this up for you? It looks like it's been sitting here all day."

"Oh, I forgot about that," Wentworth laughed. "Got so caught up in work. You can clear that out if you'd like."

"Right away, Ser." Meredith picked up the bowl and hurried out of the office, just anxious to get out of the room.

Meredith didn't know if it was the embarrassment or the bowl of old soup in her hands that was making her feel sick to her stomach. Usually Wentworth's office was the only place where she could feel relaxed. Whenever she would eat dinner with him or help him with his work, it almost felt like she was with her family again. She felt safe.

But something was different. What if it was her fault? It had to be. She acted out of line during the lockdown. She should have done something sooner. A young mage was dead because of her.

Meredith didn't mourn Maud, but the shame ate at her just as much as despair would have. Some of the other templars praised her for her bravery, but there was nothing brave about what she did. She didn't save the Gallows from an abomination. She found the remains of a life that would still be here if she acted faster. Wentworth would have known what to do. That's why he was ashamed of her.

These thoughts continued to cloud Meredith's mind as she entered the mess hall. Before she stepped into the kitchen to clean the bowl, she couldn't help but pick up on a conversation between a couple chantry sisters sitting nearby.

"I'm telling you, the Knight Captain is losing it."

"I believe you. He's been acting a little...off lately."

"Lyrium will do that to you."

"Such a shame."

Meredith didn't make it to the kitchen. The bowl was left abandoned on one of the tables as she escaped to the relative comfort of her quarters.

It was easier to think that he hated her.