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Inquisitor Andromeda was not supposed to be here. But of course, she couldn’t help but be involved in world-ending disasters. And who else could she lay blame on? Who else has shaken her belief? The gods , of course.
She wouldn’t admit that she was a firm believer. Andromeda saw the Evanuris as nothing more but a set of hopes people want to hold on to in a world so blighted—like a sweet release after gathering filthy scraps from the streets for so long.
She knew pain; knew it by the arm long gone from her now replaced by a technology that muted her sense of touch. Every texture that graced her, a budding sensation jolting her mind, was so close yet so far. It was never right . It never would feel right again.
All these ideals—these beliefs—instilled upon her by a twittering bird humming a song of heedless falsities. Her own wolf, and that which was her last thread to Clan Lavellan; Sisyphus .
Sisyphus was an anchor in a storm-tossed ocean. An ember in the caverns of the Frostback Mountains. But like a fire, it burned everyone around it. He snuffed out his own flame, leaving a trail of ashes and unanswered whispers in his wake.
Dorian spoke with much disdain whenever someone brought up his name, threatening to leave once or twice the Inquisition in its entirety. Andromeda begged him, driving Dorian to stay in spite of him . She never saw Dorian so pained.
“ [1]Ban’is’hara .”
She uttered lowly on one drunken night in Herald’s Rest. Dorian snorted—eyes welled with tears—as he pressed his cheek against a chuckling Iron Bull.
“And what does that mean, [12]carissima ?”
Andromeda stifled a howling bout of laughter. “He’s a coward.” A shudder wracked her frame, the sob building up in her throat turned into a snotty laugh.
“Indeed, a fuckin’ coward.” They continued laughing throughout the night. Albeit, Andromeda could not shake the fact of seeing Sisyphus sitting beside her and agreeing.
Not a sliver in Sisyphus’ body couldn't care less of what people said about him. She knew this and yet she still cursed him. Her dreams of him always met her eyes with indifference.
Sisyphus burned everyone he ever knew. When the cool came after, it depended on what the fire meant to them. For her advisors, an inconvenience. For Vivienne, a lost potential. For Dorian, a wound he prodded constantly. For Cole and Iron Bull…she didn’t quite know. With Solas though, it was so clear it hurt.
“ Did you love him at least?”
There was hesitation in the glint of his eyes. He brought his hands to her nape and pulled her in.
“ [2] Banal’dara em’an .” He sighed, breath warm against her temple. His hands, which she always knew were cold, slid to her hips. Andromeda should’ve known then that he was deceit incarnate. She could not, however, deny that deceit of oneself could be shared.
“ [3]Is ivys vhen’ar .” She ignored the wetness of her cheeks, kissing him. “ [4]Tel’diala mar inan,” she breathed into his mouth. Expecting Solas to rebut her statement; he stayed silent.
Andromeda thought it silly. Grieving for a person who was still painfully alive was ironic. They danced with irony, though, and it led to her losing a piece of her soul as well.
Solas had her arm in hand, and her tongue held a promise to find him. Leaving her with “[5] ‘ma ebelas’falon ”, he slipped from her grasp like a stream. Andromeda told Dorian it was fitting for them both. They who shared grief like it was love. Both suffocating. Both leaving a searing mark on them.
She told Cole to cut her hair after that. A symbol of mourning. A symbol of sorrow that transcended her spirit. She could already hear Sisyphus trying to stifle his mocking laughs.
That grief was not unfounded, though.
Morrigan revealed the news of his death. A part of Andromeda wanted her jests more than anything, but none of them came. The mark no longer there, aflame. She would continue to mourn him after all.
“ Where did you get this news? ”
“ Why, from Rook of course.”
“This isn’t just an extra ‘thank you’, is it, Inquisitor?” Rook tilted his head to the side, raising a brow. Andromeda’s gut churned, gnawing away what facade she had built over the years.
Rook looked like her—looked like him.
She knew Rook’s mother through a singular illustration Sisyphus had pocketed in his satchel. She had teased him, wanting to pry about the life he left in the Alienage.
He showed her Metis—flames for hair and eyes like Elgar'nan himself molded them. She could only gush with curiosity and fondness. Sisyphus' eyes were cold, even so, longing gleamed.
Although Rook was the spitting image of his mother, he held himself like Sisyphus when he was less burdened. Lighter, and brighter. Sarcasm and humor dripped from Rook’s tongue where Sisyphus wielded it as a stick. To use both playfully and defensively.
Rook tilted his head expectantly, mismatched eyes bore into the woman’s. Unveiling her, like he knew unspoken prophecies of before. Her throat tightened at the string of words she wished to say. Gods —
“You look just like him, [6]da’ean .” Andromeda breathed.
Rook blinked. Understandably confused by the Inquisitor.
“Er, him?”
There it was.[7]Savh’sal ebelas.
“You look like him . Like Sisyphus.”
Andromeda watched as Rook’s shoulders tensed. His fists balled like he was ready to run. His eyes lost what tether she had of the bird she once knew.
“You knew him.” Andromeda knew he wanted it to be a question, but his tone betrayed him. Rook silently huffed, feet shifting like a meek child unsure of what to say next. Her heart twisted.
“We were in Clan Lavellan.”
“Oh.”
That slightly confused Andromeda. It wouldn’t be out of character that Sisyphus failed to mention his own clan. He didn’t care .
“I…My mother and I were also in Clan Lavellan before it…”
Oh. Oh .
Andromeda promised Dorian she’d refrain from crying.
Rook continued on, not meeting her eyes filled with pity. “We fled before the clan was razed to the ground. My mother…she was afraid the members would find out about—”
He cut himself off.
More secrets. More unanswered questions. Just like Sisyphus. Andromeda pulled her hair internally, willing herself not to waver. But she was weak. She was just stronger because she was aware of it. Solas faltered more for not admitting it, and Sisyphus simply didn’t care. She thought he was truly the best of them.
Rook’s scars pulsated. Crackles of what looked like lightning on his skin glowed every now and then. His other eye was connected to the familiar color of green tracing his cheek.
“I have died…once. Twice, I think. I don’t remember much of it but I do know the second time.”
Andromeda grew even more bewildered. What more could there be? Her mind went back to the green. What more—
“You’re Fade-touched?”
Rook winced. “More like Veil-touched. I think? I don’t know; even I am just as stumped as you. All I can recall is that I grew too weak to bear half a soul with just lyrium in my veins. My mother—”
“Only blood magic can do that, right?”
Rook looked at her in shock. Andromeda could laugh at the irony of it all.
“Sisyphus was not repulsed by blood magic. He was an eccentric student of the Keeper. She had to hold him back from much darker arcane knowledge.”
Silence filled the run-down Cobbled Swan as Rook took the new information in. Andromeda wished she could reach out to him and soothe such revelations.
“That…makes even more sense with how he acted. Hah , what more did he hide from me?” Rook brought his hand to face, hiding the quiver of his lips.
“I…uh. Well.” He nodded to himself. “Continuing on—m-my mother performed a ritual to bring the spirit that guided my severed soul in the Fade to my body. She knitted it before she died.”
The sorrow was too familiar. Andromeda stepped closer, like tendrils ushering her in.
“She didn’t tell me she was dying too.”
There were no tears in Rook’s eyes. Andromeda pushed away the dig in her stomach and reached out for Rook. The younger elf melted under her touch, but he didn’t shift again. Rook inhaled bouts of air, gaze skittish. She squeezed his shoulder.
“ [5]Ebelas’falon .”
Rook finally looked at her.
“What?”
Andromeda smiled sadly. Rook’s forehead curled.
“A companion in grief. Someone…told me once.” She let the words fall easily. Even in guise, Rook was raised by Sisyphus. He was smart enough to put two-and-two together.
“Rook, I know what it’s like to mourn someone.”
“Don’t all of us do?”
Andromeda couldn’t help but laugh.
“With the Evanuris razing the earth to druffalo shit and the Blight just adding to it? Yeah, no wonder.”
Rook grinned. It was more than a triumph for Andromeda. But, gods, did he look like him—
“I’ll be more specific. I know what it’s like to grieve someone you have complicated feelings for.”
Rook did not retort, knowing that she had an inkling of what he felt through all those years. The Breach. Clan Lavellan. Sisyphus. Solas .
“But life is like that. It’s cruel. It’s unforgiving. It waits for no one. It doesn’t rush you, nor does it slow you down. We just walk with it.”
Her real hand shook against him. Breath hitching, she cupped Rook’s cheek covered in cracks.
“Love is also like that. All of those ugly things. But I know what it also is: it’s kind. It’s sweet and beautiful. It transcends even the Fade. Even the Veil. Even death .”
Andromeda’s tears fall finally. Rook was still silent, but tremors raced through his body. He could not contain that feeling. Neither of them can.
“We won’t understand why it is like that. We just learn to co-exist with it,” she finished.
Rook finally wrapped his arms around her. Andromeda heard her ribs break, heart shattering as it flooded her body with overflowing grief that could choke her; suffocate her and leave her on her knees.
But Rook, like an anchor, held her still. She sobbed for him, as tears did not flow from his eyes. A decade has passed, but she still cried like the night she and Dorian shared each other’s grief.
“Now I know why they made you Inquisitor.”
Andromeda laughed. It was ugly. Regardless, they didn’t care. She didn’t care.
“Sisyphus was more of the brains among us three Inquisitors.”
“Huh, Uncle Hiraeth said you were.”
Andromeda stifled another sob that threatened to break her again.
“Both of them are such bastards.”
“Like Solas?”
Andromeda wiped her eyes, looking at Rook with a stern expression.
“Rook. You still know what he is, don’t you?”
“He’s the fucking Dread Wolf. I was cautioned even by Hope to not walk with him.”
If that was a lie, she made no mention.
“ [5]Ebelas’falon . I like how that sounds.”
The Inquisitor’s lip quirked up again. “It is indeed beautiful. Now, [8]‘ma serannas , Rook.”
“ [9]Sathem . Anything for Thedas. Also, just call me Boreas. I don’t mind it.”
Andromeda loved how the name fit perfectly in her mouth. “ [10]Ha’ma’in , Boreas.”
He shot her a bittersweet smile as he started exiting the Cobbled Swan.
“I’ll try.”
Andromeda shut her eyes. [11]Lasa’tel’em, sathan is.
If not her, then him .