It’d been a handful of months since his defeat at the hands of the Inquisition, and their subsequent decision to give him a, “second chance”—a second chance he didn’t want. At all. His dignity had already been stomped on, but he would not stoop so low as to accept charity from his enemies; especially enemies that would see him made a pitiful mortal man. He strived for godhood, and now he was forced to be no more than any other common prisoner of war.

It was absolutely humiliating.

Even so, he knew the alternative had been having everything he worked for wiped away, as if it never mattered. Sethius- a name he was still getting reacclimatized to- couldn’t risk that. He’d done so much, and he would not have what little he’d earned taken away from him; so while he detested every second of it, he had accepted the Inquisition’s, “second chance”. He had no real plans to change, admittedly; he’d just play along until he got out, and then he’d begin to fight for godhood once again.

Until then, though… he had gotten acquainted with the fortress the Inquisition had taken as their own. Skyhold, they called it. The denizens within it were of no consequence to him, as Sethius had already accepted that the mortals would despise him for all he’d done; however, he would admit that he was not fond of how he’d get shouted at from across the courtyard or great hall—which usually consisted of… less than savory descriptors of him.

He’d wipe out those pitiful mortals first, he’d decided. It gave him no small amount of comfort to imagine that.

His own room (luckily he had not been thrown in the dungeons) was… quaint. Much too small for his liking, but his captors would not relinquish a more opulent chamber for one such as him. Sethius had little to say of it.

As of right now, he was lounging within Skyhold’s library. It was his favorite spot in the whole fortress, as it happened to be the only place that he could achieve a semblance of peace and quiet. Within his hands was some trivial magic book (magic he knew).