Upon reaching the apex of Skyhold's tallest tower, Fenris could not help but observe that the security at the heart of the Inquisitor's bastion was terrible.
The stairwell to her room lacked even a single guard.
He’d managed to skirt the few he'd come across, drowsy on the battlements and half-heartedly patrolling the courtyard.
He suspected he could have strolled in by the front gates and no one would have blinked an eye. They thought they were safe, here in this remote mountain citadel. Why should they not?
They would know the truth soon enough. Cold rage had driven him forward for days, and now he took the stairs to her room three at a time, up, up, not much further.
Soon it would be done, he did not think about the after.
He took it as a warning, that the heavy door wasn't even locked or barred, its wards light enough to be easily disrupted by a pulse from his tattoos.
The Inquisitor was either very lazy, or very confident of her power; he tended to assume the latter.
When the door latch clunked loudly he felt sure it was all over, but he rushed forward despite, certain she'd be standing waiting for him.
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