“The Inquisition was made of liars, thiefs, murderers, and the worst scum to breathe. Those people are nothing more than trouble.”
That’s what they said at the beginning, people coming from all over, looking for help from the newly-founded Inquisition or the nobles who wanted to see what you had to offer. Food, shelter, and kindness in short supply, word spread saying that they would find help in Haven. “And what of this so-called Herald?” You didn’t want this, but you were forced into that position. You heard them speak about you, whispers following you wherever you went. A saint, our destruction, a gift from the Maker, the false leader, a thief, a liar, a criminal, a murderer. You heard it all, at some point learning to tone it out. Especially after you took the title of Inquisitor. The names got worse and so did the people who spoke them, but they soon realized that they had no effect on you. And then they turned to your people.
A cast-away templar with an addiction problem. An ex-noble whose title was taken away. A deranged chantry sister known for her crimes. A side arm piece that acted like a noble and who deserved the name ice queen. A fluke writer who uses his “friends”, lying about everything to anyone who would listen. An unstable demon-spirit allowed to roam freely. An unmarked elf who believed himself better than everyone, even his own people. An unstable seeker with a thirst for power. A bloody mercenary who spied on their own group for the Qun. A sad excuse for a mage and a hated magister. An abandoned urchin that doesn’t know her place. A warden, traitor to the chantry and to the people.
You couldn’t tone it out. They insulted your companions, people you had come to call your friends. They’d insult you and you’d watch and listen to them as your close group would tell you not to listen to them, to ignore them, that they were scared or jealous or trying to make themselves look better to their peers. But when they insult your group, your friends, your family. Half the time they had to force you to turn away, your words cutting deep into those strangers who knew nothing of what your friends were giving up to help you. The other times they had to drag you away before you could do harm.
They didn’t know. They didn’t know what was on the line. While they lived their lives the way they wanted, they didn’t see what happened to the Inquisition. How many times you had to pray that your comrades were only injured a little bit or just unconscious. They didn’t know how it felt to look around and not see your allies in the midst of combat, the worst or the worst already forming in your head. What those in your company had to go through, their personal struggles, their torments and lies they had to live. The injuries you all received from protecting others, those who thanked you and those who’d spit at your feet. They were your people, people who stood by your side who listened and who you helped.
Cullen had given up on his addiction to prove that he was stronger than it. Josephine could fell someone’s name if they so much as insulted your name. Leliana was the cleverest and most informed battle strategist you’d ever seen. Vivienne could silence a room, not because of her status, but because of the power she held. Varric could weave his words to tell a story as if it was there before you, as he spoke from the heart. Cole wished only to help, knowing how it felt to be powerless and weak and not able to help the boy he shared the same name with. Solas had great wisdom to share to whoever would listen and even called you friend. Cassandra questioned her decisions and yours, but stayed loyal and helped to keep you on the right path. Iron Bull fought for your people, for you, even turning from the Qun to protect his own company. Dorian was well taught and a brilliant mind, standing taller, knowing he had friends at his back. Sera was able to sleep without a dagger under her pillow for once, knowing that she could trust this company, knowing she could trust the Inquisitor. Thom Rainier was able to give up the lie he had been living, learning to come to terms with what he had done.
“Those people are nothing more than trouble.”
Those people were your friends.
Something stuck in my head I had to get out. Don't mind me. -Cabot