[OPEN]

[theonly]

WHO: Stannis Baratheon and OPEN.
WHAT: A Knight-Commander wandering and glaring at various things.
WHEN: Two weeks after arriving to Skyhold.
WHERE: Skyhold, various.
NOTES: None.

A - STABLES

He stood in the stables. Stannis thought that he should leave, that he should abandon these fools to whatever horrors should come for them. But he gave his word; he offered his sword. A Templar does not abandon their post regardless of what sense says they should do. He lifted his hand to lightly pat the side of the stallion's neck. Beyond his sword and armor, the horse was one of the few possessions that he had left. If worse came to worse, he planned to let it run free from Skyhold. It was not bound to his duty and word, so why not let it live?

"I continue to be tested and wonder if deities do exist if only to torment." Stannis let his hand drop away as he started to move out of the stables. "And yet, it is I who find them wanting. Such is the way of Gods and me."

B - LIBRARY

A raven had been found to send message to the few that owed him favors. He sought to find where his daughter had disappeared. How could she had just vanish? Or was it that she just joined the list of the unnamed dead? A sobering thought, but he would continue to search for word, for rumor of what had become of her. Until it became too much to do so.

His steps fell heavy as he walked down to head toward the courtyard. He only stopped briefly in the library to see how the process of categorizing the ancient texts was going. Stannis skimmed over the books on the tables and wondered of what would be written about their present tribulations. Would the writers fill the pages with fluff and prose to hide the terror of what really occurred? Most likely. Who would want to hear the truth when a story was better?

A pause.

"Hard in Hardtown." He read the book title aloud as he picked it up where it laid. Turning it over, he knew not the reason but frowned at the smug illustrated look of the author. Still, the novel appeared to be new due to the lack of dust for one, and the name of the author for another. Someone brought this in? Apparently they believed we are missing some piece of literature. A beat in his thoughts. Should have brought the story of Hawke.

C - BATTLEMENTS

Stannis had grown accustomed to walking the battlements. He would watch the courtyard and it emptied and eventually turn his gaze towards the horizon. Like he expected the enemy's army's torches to suddenly appear, cutting through the black. Yet nothing came. Perhaps, Corypheus believes us to not be a thread now that the Herald is dead. But if I were him, I would tear this fortress down before my enemies had the chance to rebuild, before they grew enough nerve to strike. It may be a good thing that he did not become a Red Templar, did not listen to the siren call of the tainted.

He rested against the waist-high stone wall, crossing his arms. There were enough guards to do what he was doing -- or so he had been told once or twice. Turning to rest his arms on the stone, he lifted his hands to interlace his fingers. "Oh Maker, hear my cry: guide me through the blackest night. Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked. Make me rest in the warmest of places." These words were spoken, not sung. Stannis let his hands drop.

"As I thought." A pause. "Everyone believed in you, and you continue to let them down. They continue to pray like you care." A God that allowed what has happen to happen was no God. "Perhaps, we should take a page from Tevinter, after all. We should cease believing in Gods that do nothing for us. Perhaps, we would be able to do more if we were not always on our knees."

D

Wildcard.

Comments

[equanimiti]

[When the other Templar's reply isn't a scathing rebuttal, Alayre glances towards him again.]

Do you fear that Death will soon claim me far before we see the end of our trials, Stannis? If so, fear not.

[He replies quietly without any hint of his previous fury. Though, he falls silent for a spell before speaking again.]

I will see this to the bitter end. It must be us to rebuild what was broken by the hands of others. We must endure and return order from chaos.

[theonly]

Death may very well claim us both. Neither of us have any heirs to carry on our name. It makes for an unfortunate end for our lines.

[ He thinks of what children Robert will have and shakes his head once. Renly need not be mentioned. While the children that his younger brother has for his own share his name, they will not share his blood. By all accounts, the line will have only the blood of a drunken womanizer to continue through the ages. His face twists as he feels like he has eaten something sour. ]

We shall have to pave the way ... redeem the name of the Order for those who have sullied it. Much to do even with the threat of the Archdemon and sentient Darkspawn. So even if you say you will, there may be a chance we won't see the end but know that it will be for those that outlive us. Can you stand that?