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Alistair had not known the Inquisitor long but knew them enough to not be offended when the Skyhold gates opened and they would leave without formalities.
This time, the Inquisitor did not have to run far. The Commander had been returning to his tower when they had returned. She ran to him. He cradled her face in his hands, his eyes searching frantically for any wounds. The Inquisitor laughed and playfully tapped his breastplate, saying something Alistair couldn’t hear. The Commander relaxed and smiled at last.
Alistair turned his gaze from the moment. It wasn’t private, by any means, but all the same he felt he shouldn’t watch. He turned to the rest of the Inquisitor’s companions who had joined them in the Western Approach and thanked them for their help before quickly escaping to the barricades.
He stood on the wall, looking out into the mountains. She was out there, somewhere. Seeing the Commander and the Inquisitor had renewed the ache in his chest. He missed his Warden. The Inquisitor had promised that they would do their best to get a letter to her, wherever she was. No matter what result, he knew it would hurt all the same. A letter was close but not her.
“Cold, wintry, I hear wolves, must be careful,” said a voice behind him.
Alistair jumped at the sight of the young man. Cole, he had been told, this was Cole. He had come with to the Western Approach. Why had Alistair forgotten that?
Cole continued, “Will find a place to camp, can’t fight a pack alone, set up shelter, still can’t sleep without him and his snore.”
“Sorry, what?” Alistair asked, “When you do that spirit thing I never really know what to make of it, Cole.”
Cole’s eyes focused, as if they had previously been looking somewhere else.
“Cullen touching her face made you sad. You want to know if she’s ok, if she misses you, if she has the same heaviness that you do. You’re scared.”
Alistair flinched, still not used to the way Cole could pinpoint the invisible wounds. He tried to relax as he began to understand what Cole had been saying previously.
“Making camp, wolves are quiet, perhaps it’s safe for a fire tonight. I miss his face by the fire; shadows flickering as he nervously holds a rose. Smiles, laughs, crying now, he will not be in my tent tonight, he is far and I am alone.”
Alistair’s bottom lip threatened to tremble. He wanted the spirit to stop but couldn’t bring himself to say something. He hungered for the information Cole is giving him, however much it broke his heart.
“Searching the pack, I know it’s in here, tears beginning to freeze in the cool air. There it is, pulling out the book and inside is the pressed rose. Inhales and smiles, it is worth it, all of it is worth it, heavy heart protesting. We can live without the song and it will all be worth it. Tending fire, stay on watch, will sleep when wolves are long gone. Hums and tries to be happy.”
Cole stopped and looked at Alistair. Alistair couldn’t focus on conversation. He looked away from Cole, back over the wall. He stared at the mountains with tears in his eyes. He didn’t think it possible that he could miss her any more than he already did.
“Did I do it wrong?” Cole asked, “Your pain is sharper.”
“No,” Alistair said quietly, “Thank you, Cole.”
Alistair turned to look at the spirit but he’s already gone.