Work Text
Up until this moment, she has looked upon him with a tenderness that rends his heart to pieces. Through crowded rooms and the soft, ghostly fingers of winter sunlight, she has offered the soft curve of her smile, the coyness of lowered lashes. In those moments, he forgets the title that makes her more than a mere woman.Now, in this moment, within the curling tails of incense smoke, he sees only her title, sees only the Inquisitor. Her eyes are pale and hard as polished steel within her dark face, her mouth a neutral line. She is a dark effigy of her unwanted title: Herald of Andraste. The trappings of her power surround her: statues of the warrior Andraste on either side, the guards, the throne of gold, iron, and velvet wrought in the shape of the Circle of Magi’s sigil. Up until this moment, he has had no cause to fear her.He does, now.As she repeats the charges, it occurs to him that they are all but alone in the throne room. Everyone in Skyhold knows what this trial means to her–to the woman, not the Inquisitor. She must judge him without the use of her heart, and he knows–Maker he knows her! Hadiza can no more abandon her heart than the stars could abandon the velvet of the night sky. She is all heart, all passion, all fury.It tears at his gut to know he has betrayed those parts of her, and so, in the hinterlands of his dignity, humbled by the compassion that blooms in her like the first true exhale of spring, he makes his way up the dais--he will crawl if he has to, the chains mean nothing. He watches the mask slip aside momentarily, sees the woman beneath, the surprise in her eyes as he kneels at her feet. Josephine’s cheeks bloom with embarrassment and admiration alike, but he doesn’t care.“My heart is in your hands, my lady.” He says, his voice thick with emotion. He says no more than that, knows he doesn’t need to. She knows him, knows what it means. Will she make a fist?He watches her take a slow, withering breath, shutting her eyes. When she opens them, they are a quicksilver snap of color against all the dark glory of her.“Thom Rainier.” His name is thick on her tongue, foreign and unwelcome, and he can feel her distaste. In truth, his name displeases him as well. Hadiza tips her head, looks down at him, her gaze bringing with it the full weight of her decision.“For the crimes in which you stand accused, I will remand you to the Grey Wardens.”His eyes go wide. Hadiza makes a subtle gesture with her hand, stilling him.“Once Corypheus is defeated and Thedas secured, you will go to them. Maker willing, you will give truth to the lie you have sold us all this time.”Blackwall–no, Thom Rainier feels his heart and stomach go into freefall.“Hadiza…” He whispers, at once afraid and relieved. “Where does this leave us?”Hadiza does not answer him at first. He is close enough that she does not have to raise her voice.“It is only because you have shed blood for our cause, that you have protected me and our companions, that I do not remand you to the Empire’s justice,” she says, and he can feel her anger, her hurt, and fury, “but you should have trusted me, Thom.”He burns with shame, unable to answer her. She makes another gesture and the guards unlock his chains. He feels strange without them. The chains had been a welcome weight until now. He thinks perhaps she will say more, but her mask is back on, and only the Inquisitor looks at him.“Do not make me regret this decision.” She says and Thom bows low, and means it. He does not say anything more, and instead walks away, a slow and brutalizing march toward the doors, into the winter sun.