“You tricked me!” Lavellan hissed once the roar of the crowds below had faded behind the sheltering walls of the crumbling great hall. Furious, he rounded on Cassandra and Cullen and Leliana while Josephine took half a step back at the feral light blazing in his eyes. The anchor spat and sparked, only adding to the effect.
“You funnelled me into this like deer on a hunt. You put me up on that stage in front of everyone like a puppet. You gave me no choice! Again!” he wept, tears steaming freely down his face. “I’ve never been so betrayed in my whole life; and not even when you made me Herald of some god I don’t believe in after the Conclave.”
He turned away but faltered, snarling out of the side of his mouth, “I played my part back there in front of everyone. I’ll keep doing it because the world needs it, but I won’t do it for you, alright? I won’t forget how you treated me like just another elven pawn in your shem games.”
He stalked away and let their precious ceremonial sword fall to the floor of the derelict great hall as if it had burned him. The clatter of blade on broken stone rang loud in their ears, and to his great relief he found that all four of them at least had the grace to stay behind.
Ciuin found his way to a secluded garden without quite knowing how he got there, catching a glimpse of Dorian as he fled the upper keep. The Tevinter mage had worn a complicated and inscrutable expression, but Ciuin did note the way he slowly shook his head while maintaining eye contact with the elf.
There was a message there, perhaps of support, but Ciuin was too hurt and too damned tired to decipher it fully.
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I have a lot of feels about the way the inquisitor gains that title, especially Lavellans...
