Maker's breath. They were not getting a dragon, of any size, for Skyhold.
Nalívæ,
I'm not sure Bull could stand the excitement of having a dragon in residence. That much constant adrenaline might kill him, and the stress would most certainly kill me.
It's not fair to compare the difficulty you're facing in the Deep Roads to lyrium withdrawl. Being terrified of enclosed spaces yet marching underground anyway is no less brave than denying oneself lyrium. Your fear is no less valid. You went into this knowing it was going to be nightmarish, but you strode in anyway, just as you've done in every trying situation. That's what has won you the respect and admiration of the Inquisition and all of Thedas. That, and your many other fine qualities, won you my heart.
Dorian is demanding I convey the fact he is pleased you liked his crystal, but quite put out that you haven't written him yet. He also wants to say that you have traded his friendship for a fine ass and a pair of puppy dog brown eyes. He would do the same, but it still hurts. I have only written this because he is refusing to leave my office until I do so. He, Bull, and Cole have finished up their assignment, as has Vivienne. They should be joining you shortly.
If Varric's stories of Fenris and Hawke sound unbelievable then they are probably true. They were an odd match. Hawke was feisty, confident, rather obstinate, yet capable of diplomacy and logic. When I had lost my way, she helped remind me that mages were people. Fenris hated mages even more than I did. I didn't know him well, but he had a reputation for surliness, aggression, and violence. He didn't seem the type to fall in love with anyone, much less a mage. Yet whenever I saw them together, it was clear he was utterly devoted to her, and she to him. I can't begin to understand it, but I hope they find one another again.
I know this is hard for you, but you will get through this. Nothing has stood in your way and survived (unless you showed it mercy) before, and the Deep Roads will soon be another conquest under your belt. I'm glad you've kept the coin safe, and that it's kept you safe. In some of my darker moments of withdrawal, I would picture the faces of people that I loved: my family, friends, and then, you. Your face got me through more than you will ever know. Stay strong, my love.
Yours,
Cullen
Cullen finished signing his name and looked over the letter. He hoped it helped bring her back from the edge of despair she was tottering on. He feared what would happen if she broke down completely. He knew that people went mad down there in the darkness. He shouldn't have let her go. Or he should have gone with her. He could do nothing for her here except write. His words always seemed inadequate. Black marks on a page that hopefully brought her a few moments of peace. But what else could he do? He stared off into the distance for a moment, looking through the window at the cloud-rimmed Frostbacks, until an idea leaped into his mind. He pushed back his chair and strode out of his office, letter in hand. This would help her. It had to.