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Josephine wakes with the crash, surprised to find herself alone. She throws back the covers, doesn’t bother with shoes, and hurries out into the hall. Cassandra nearly runs into her, barreling toward the source of the noise with her sword drawn and ready.
Another sound, the crystalline noise of glass on stone, and the two women rush toward the kitchen. Their rented rooms in Val Royeaux have thin walls, and by the time they reach the kitchen, they’ve been joined by Iron Bull, Cullen, and Dorian. Cassandra and Iron Bull gesture at each other, silently arguing about who goes first and who takes which side, but Josephine holds up a hand, stopping them both, when she peeks around the door.
Ariadne, on the floor, surrounded by broken glass and something thick and dark pink. Knees drawn to her chest, arm wrapped around her legs, head bowed. Tiny scratches on her feet and hand, bleeding. A metal plate upside down beside her, two pieces of bread scattered a foot away. She mouths Ariadne; I’ve got it at the others and shoos them away. Cullen hesitates before following Dorian back to their room.
When they’ve all left, she knocks softly on the open door and enters the kitchen. “Ari?” She calls quietly and shuts the door behind her.
“I wanted toast.” Her voice, thick with tears and anguish, tugs at Josephine’s heart.
Josephine carefully skirts the shattered glass on tiptoes and takes a towel from the cupboard. She crouches beside Ariadne and brushes away the larger pieces of glass before she kneels on the stone. The kitchen smells faintly of raspberries. “What happened?”
Ariadne sniffles and lifts her head. “I woke up hungry. I sliced the bread and toasted it fine, but I. I couldn’t get the jar open.” She gestures at what remains of her left arm. “It slipped and I tried to catch it, but it fell and broke on the floor. And then I stepped on glass and.” She suddenly stops talking and looks away.
Josephine shifts, sitting properly now and no longer on her knees. When Ariadne doesn’t continue, or even look back, she settles her hand on Ariadne’s shoulder. “My love,” she starts, quietly. It’s only been a few days since Ariadne’s been up and about, healed by Vivienne and Dorian. They’ve not even made official plans yet to return to Skyhold.
But Ariadne whips her head back, eyes furious. “No. Don’t coddle me. I can handle it from the others, but not you. I wanted toast, Josephine. Toast and jam. And I couldn’t even do that, all I did was hurt myself more.”
“In time, Ari. You will be able to do that, and so much more again.”
“I shouldn’t have to!” She struggles to her feet, wrenching away when Josephine offers help. “I shouldn’t have to be patient, I shouldn’t have to learn how to open a damn jar again, none of this should have happened.”
Seething, Ariadne paces back and forth across the small kitchen, leaving a trail of bloody footprints. “That stupid fucking elf. He had us all fooled from the start, never had any plans of helping us at all, did he. Bald bastard, took advantage of us, treated me like a plaything,” she spits out the word.
Josephine scrambles to her feet. She pushes up the sleeves of her nightdress, suddenly over-warm.
“A year and a half of fighting beside him, talking to him, listening to his endless, tiresome lectures about the glories of the Fade, and the piece of shit doesn’t even have the balls to mean it when he apologizes for taking my bloody arm!”
Ariadne stands frighteningly still, cheeks flushed from the heat. Firelight reflects in the tears streaming down her cheeks, and Josephine wants nothing more than to pull Ariadne to her and hold her close. But there’s a jar’s worth of broken glass between them, and sparks are falling from Ariadne’s fingers. They crackle, tiny little pops, as they hit the floor.
Chest heaving, breathing hard in her fury, Ariadne stands up straight. “He was supposed to help. I trusted him. And he -” Her voice wavers, and she stops. A few breaths, and her lips curl into a snarl. The sparks burst into flame, a small inferno captured in her palm. “I. Am going to kill him.” She whirls around and hurls her flames into the fireplace.
The fire explodes. Terrified, as much as of the flames as of the rage in Ariadne’s voice, Josephine closes her eyes against the brightness and throws her hands up against the wave of heat.
And then, just as suddenly, the fire goes out, leaving them in darkness.
Josephine starts to consider that the noise probably drew their companions back out of their rooms, but Ariadne’s shaky breaths quickly turn into sobs and all thoughts of how to explain the explosion to their friends evaporate. Guided by moonlight and streetlamps, and not caring about the glass, she strides across the floor and gathers Ariadne in her arms. “Oh, my love,” she breathes.
Ariadne brings her arm up around Josephine’s shoulders, and then sags against her. “I can’t even hug you properly,” she whispers.
Josephine holds her tighter. “It feels like a proper hug to me.”
Ariadne gives herself over to tears then, and lets Josephine lead her to the bench so they can sit. She tucks up against Josephine, curling into her partner’s lap as she cries. Josephine soothingly rubs her hands over her back, holding Ariadne as she cries as much as she needs.
The door creaks, and Cassandra’s head appears around the door. She arches an eyebrow, but Josephine waves her off; there is a mess to clean up, but not right now. Cassandra disappears again, and the door closes.
Slowly, Ariadne cries herself out. The tears turn back into shaky breaths, and the shaky breaths become steadier.
“I’m still hungry,” Ariadne says after a while.
Josephine laughs quietly and presses her lips to Ariadne’s forehead. “Mi tesoro,” she says as Ariadne lifts her head from her shoulder. “You are so beautiful, and I love you.” She kisses her softly, Ariadne’s lips salty from tears, and doesn’t pull away until she feels Ariadne kiss her in return. She shifts, giving Ariadne a little space.
“I love you,” Ariadne says. She wipes at her cheeks and then, with a wave of her hand, relights the fire. She stares at the remnants of the jelly jar on the floor. “I probably couldn’t have opened that even with two hands.”
Josephine smiles and squeezes Ariadne’s hand. “Would you like me to make you some toast?” The glass and spilled jelly will have to be cleaned up, and they’ll need Dorian to see to their various cuts before they return bed, but toast comes first.
“Yes, please.”