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His spies have left the package of reports on his desk.
There's a short note, and he browses it briefly, eyes brightening as he sees the Skyhold seal.
My lord,
Please find the reports we have collected on Lavellan's welfare contained within. The Nightingale will not miss them.
The spirit, Cole, knew of our true intentions, and requested that a message be given to you. That, too, is included in this missive.
We await your instructions.
Attached to the note is a scrap of paper, on which words, written in a childlike hand, are scrawled.
She misses you so much. You hurt her.
Even now, even across the world, the words have the capacity to wound, and they hurt with a sharpness he would not have expected of Compassion.
Yet he is missed. He had half-convinced himself that she had moved on, that she had proved the better of them both. Is it selfish, to be glad that she still feels his absence?
Yes. Without hesitation.
There's a piece of his heart that longs for her, even as he knows the folly of such a longing. In darker moments, he envisions what it would feel like to return to her side. In dreams, she knows his truth, and yet she forgives him still, without repulse, without despair.
He is selfish to want her, even after all he has done, even after all that he has yet to do. He doesn't deserve love.
But still, he loves her. And love knows not what chaos it can cause.