Chapter Text
It didn't feel like victory.
All those laughing faces. All those people celebrating. She should be one of them, she knew it. But she, Inquisitor Lavellan, couldn't bring herself to be happy. Not while the one who had become the most important person in her life was missing. He had been missing for a week now. For one whole week no word of him. Not the tiniest hint, even though Leliana had assured her that her spies were looking for him. And they had found even the Hero of Ferelden. Why not him?
She looked at the cake on the table in front of her. It seemed more like a piece of art than food, yet nevertheless she was sure it would taste amazing. Josephine had it brought from Val Royeaux, just for this party. Leliana had mentioned the name of the shop, but she couldn't remember it. Had no appetite.
“Don't like your cake?” Sera asked, her mouth still full and already eyeing her cake greedily.
“You may have it, if you want”, she offered, her thoughts still not fully in the present.
“You don't like the cake?” Josephine's voice sounded worried. Almost panical. Oh. She hadn't seen the woman standing behind them.
“No it's not like that”, she assured her hastily. “It's just, that...” she hesitated. It all seemed so unimportant to her now. How could one be worried about cakes or parties, when one's love was gone? “I'm somewhat tired. I think I will return to my quarters.”
“Already?”, Varric wanted to know, smirking. “You'll miss the afterparty and your chance to win your honor back at Wicked Grace.”
“Cullen's in more need of winning his honor back. Try him.” Her voice didn't sound as lighthearted as it should have, but they didn't seem to notice.
Varric laughed. “But you will join us in our next game?”
“Sure.” She didn't even think before talking. Just wanted to get away from all of this. Wanted to be alone for some time. Well, not alone, exactly. But the one whose company she desired, wasn't here. So alone it was. She hurried away from the table, leaving her friends to themselves. They deserved their happiness. And she didn't want to be the one to spoil it all.
“She isn't tired because your party is bad, Josephine.” Cassandras voice was getting lower as she left the table. “The mingling. She has probably had to talk to all those people here, No wonder she...” The rest of her words was lost in the laughter and the conversations of the other guests.
Before she could reach the door to her quarters, Leliana approached her. “Inquisitor”, she greeted her. For a moment hope was back.
“Do you have word of him?” The words were out, before she could control herself. But it didn't matter. If Leliana knew something...anything...
Her spymaster looked confused.
“Solas? No, I wanted to talk to you about something different.” Leliana trailed off. Probably because the look in her face betrayed all to clearly the emotional turmoil inside of her. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid Lavellan. How could she still have hope? Grasping straws, not letting go. That was what she was doing.
“Maybe another time?”, the woman asked cautiously.
She nodded. Eyes already burning. She pushed open the door to her quarters. No, she would not cry again. Had already cried enough on that day he had left her for the first time. Left her with nothing but his bitter gift of truth and memories of the sweet softness of his touch.
Finally she arrived in her room. Her home now, for so many weeks. He was not here. Of course not, what was she thinking? That he would miraculously be waiting for her here, after the celebration?
She did not cry. At least she had that much composure left. She was the Inquisitor after all. People looked to her for guidance, for hope. It wouldn't do to have them see the emotional wreck she really was. But it was becoming harder to uphold the lie with each passing day. When would they finally see through her mask? The mask of happiness after Corypheus defeat, the mask of the victorious Inquisitor? He had always seen straight behind that mask. Had seen her true self. Like she had seen him. Or so she had thought. Had wanted to believe.
Looking around, she saw her bare face in the mirror, free of her vallaslin. You are so beautiful. Gritting her teeth she turned away. Everything reminded her of him. Even her own face.
Stepping outside on the balcony she breathed in the freezing air. The night was clear. Stars and the moon shone their soft light onto the world. The mountains, the snow. It was cold. She remembered all too clearly the time, when she had first laid eye on the deserted keep, he had guided her here.
Him, always him. He had been there from the very start. And now he was gone. The fresh air didn't calm her thoughts. Nothing seemed to be able to accomplish that anymore.
And that nearly let her miss her anger. Yes, she had been angry with Solas, when he had first left her. It had worked in a way, what he had advised. To forge her pain into a sharp weapon. But back then she had still believed he would explain everything to her. That it all would make sense eventually. And that she would be able to make everything alright again. That they could be together again, in that world without Corypheus. Wasn't that what he had meant, when he had said not in this world?
Seemingly not.
His second leaving had taken this belief away and with it her anger. Shouldn't she be even angrier now? Hate him for his lies and what he had done to her? Ironically that wasn't the case. There was only emptiness left inside of her, a void where her heart had been.
No. It didn't feel like victory at all.