Chapter Text
The funeral had been a small, low-key affair with few in attendance.
With clan Lavellan also gone, it fell to the remainder of the Inquisition to handle her interment: There had been much deliberation and arguing about what manner of burial befit the former Inquisitor, but eventually it was agreed upon that a traditional elven burial in the gardens at Skyhold would be most appropriate: It was her last home, and the home of the family she had during her time with the Inquisition.
She wouldn’t be disturbed - the fortress had become little more than a still ruin cut out against the Frostbacks.
The Inner Circle reunited for the last time on a cold spring morning in order to bid their friend goodbye.
The event was solemn and brief, and though smiles were feigned and hugs exchanged between the closest members of the Inquisition, there remained a pervasive sense of distrust in the air - many of them; such as Blackwall, Cullen, and Josephine had no idea that El’una had even been ill: Her death came as a shock.
Others, such as Dorian and Leliana seemed to the others to be just a little bit too sad.
Cole was nowhere to be seen.
Questions unanswered, they said their farewells to El’una and to each other, and returned to their respective destinies.
The months following were calm and peaceful. Thedas was rebuilding efficiently following the actions of Corypheus, and though borders remained tightly patrolled and soldiers remained ready for war at a moment’s notice, all seemed quiet regarding the Qunari threat that had so brazenly threatened the Empire over a year previous.
Skyhold itself fell into further abandonment and disrepair as it seemed to accept its fate as a lonely mausoleum to the elven woman who slept in its garden: Few bothered to venture up the Frostbacks in order to pass through her gates - enemies and friends alike could not be bothered to make the treacherous journey for the most part.
Every now and then a group of intrepid explorers or pilgrims would brave the frozen valley and embark upon the ruin, only to find that it was exactly that - cold, empty, dusty, and possibly haunted by more than just the residual memories of thousands of people.
Some returned with unnerving tales of massive wild hounds stalking the grounds; their fur matted and long, their appearances starved and savage.
Others claimed to have seen the ghost of a woman comparable in likeness to the Inquisitor: Some said she would sometimes be seen sitting in the garden, covered in snow. In some variations of the story, she was little more than a glimpse of long hair and a burial gown as she seemed to realize she was being watched and disappeared around a pillar or corner, a curious jingling sound following in her wake.
Strangest of all were those who returned who had not seen any of these things, but instead insisted they had an generally unremarkable experience in the ruin - perhaps the only really odd occurrence being that they found a letter from their mother they thought they had lost in their pack while searching for a flint, or even that they just felt oddly good upon entering the place despite its appearance: It may have been a silent shamble on a mountain, but Maker forgive them if just standing in the empty hall filled them with some sort of hope or something.
Aside from that though… it was just an empty building.
Nothing more.