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Josephine always had a thousand thoughts running through her head. Treaties to sign, nobles to persuade to their cause, pulling on the delicate threads that made up the choking tapestry of the great Game. She’d spent many a night working, burning the midnight oil as she fulfilled her duties as diplomat of this Inquisition.
But it was not her duties that kept her awake tonight, tossing and turning.
It was the cold expanse of the bed next to her. The absence of warmth, the silence in a room that had been empty for months.
Josephine hadn't slept in her own room since she moved in with Inquisitor S’vari Lavellan. She'd become accustomed to a warmth lying next to her, the sound of sleep other than her own, the presence and the noise of existing with someone side by side.
But now, back in her personal quarters, truly alone for the first time in so very long, Josephine felt as though she was suffocating in her lover’s absence. An absence of her own making.
Josephine sat up with a sigh. Clearly sleep would not be had tonight. At least she could get some work done, try to shorten her never-ending to-do list.
She pulled on a robe and headed to her desk, already formulating a letter to various allies. To the Ortrantos.
But still the emptiness of her bed lingered in her mind, a looming shadow congealing in the corner of her room even as she tried to immerse herself in her work.
She didn’t hear the door open, nor register the new presence in the room until a voice spoke out softly.
“Still awake Madam Ambassador?”
Josephine jumped about a foot in her chair, scattering papers across the room as she let out a choice Antivan curse. She swore that Leliana did this on purpose. Especially when she saw the smirk on her old friend’s face.
“Always work to be done Leliana, you know that better than anyone.”
“Of course.”
Josephine shot her a scowl as she got up to retrieve the documents she had shot across the room. To her credit, Leliana helped her re-gather the scattered paper.
“And this late night work session has nothing to do with the absence of your Inquisitor Lavellan?”
Josephine’s motions slowed as an ache of longing bloomed within her chest. She tried to stuff the feelings away, but she could feel the empty bed drawing her gaze.
“Of course not, why would it?”
“Josie.”
Her childhood nickname stopped her short as she looked up to meet Leliana’s eyes. She knew, she always knew. From the moment they met, Josephine had never been able to keep any secrets from the bard. She rarely wanted to, but now a part of her wanted to be private in her heartache.
But a larger part of her needed to tell someone of the swell of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. It wasn’t as if Leliana wouldn’t needle it out of her anyways. Josephine closed her eyes.
“I miss her.”
“Then go to her.”
“I cannot.”
“If something as simple as the people’s perception of your reputations can keep you from her, perhaps your feelings do not run as deep as I thought.”
“It is not SIMPLE.”
Her outburst caught Leliana off-guard. It was something Josephine rarely saw on the woman’s face. Josephine was not prone to outbursts of emotion but the lack of sleep and the devastating events of the day spurred her to continue.
“Everything we do, every iota of influence we have is built on the reputations of this Inquisition. It has been difficult already to ensure that the gossip about our... closeness does not infect the tenuous alliances we have. I have managed to do so thus far. The Orlesians do adore a juicy romance, and the Fereldans remember the relationship their beloved Warden had with a certain Bard.”
Leliana raised an eyebrow at that, but did not interrupt.
“But this is different. I have a duty to uphold to my family, a contract has been made. I cannot simply pretend it does not exist.”
Josephine had never regretted her station before now. She knew that part of her familial duties were to marry the man that would best increase her families fortunes and form a family of her own. It was a duty that she was prepared to uphold, as her mother had, as her grandmother had, as all of the heads of House Montilyet had done. Josephine owed everything to the sacrifices her family had made on her behalf, to just abandon that duty would spit on those sacrifices. No matter how badly she wanted to.
But this was greater than even her own house’s fortunes.
”If I, as chief diplomat and ambassador of the Inquisition, ignore a contract as important as an engagement, the question would become what other agreements I could blatantly disregard.”
Josephine started to pace, the weight of what she was trying to uphold hanging heavy on her shoulders.
“What we are doing here, what we are building here as the Inquisition concerns the fate of the entirety of Thedas. We cannot afford to make people doubt our intentions. Look at what we have been able to do on the Inquisitor’s renown. Orlais and Fereldan at peace. Mage liberated, rebellions ended. We cannot risk anything affecting that. Especially not me. We cannot be together.
To her great embarrassment, Josephine could feel tears coming to her eyes. Pathetic really, not at all becoming.
But Andraste bless her, Josephine was so tired. Tired of having to uphold the careful diplomat’s mask, of having to restrain her emotions. Of having to pretend that doing this didn’t break her heart.
She sank into her chair, exhaustion leeching into her bones, feeling a tear track down her cheek.
“Don’t you think if I could, I would be with her.” Josephine got out as she dashed a tear away. “I can’t even sleep in my bed. It’s too-”
“Empty.”
Josephine nodded.
“It’s ridiculous, of course, it’s just a bed. We’ve only shared one for a few months, I had no trouble sleeping in it alone before. It’s just a bed. The events of the last few days must have taken its toll, I must just be-”
A touch on her hand silenced her. She looked up as Leliana, bent to take Josephine’s hand in her own.
“It is just a bed. But your Inquisitor is not just a woman is she?”
Gently, with more delicacy that Josephine had seen from her in quite some time, Leliana led her to the couch that sat in front of her small fireplace and sat her down.
“I remember the feeling. Of that first night alone.”
Leliana murmured as she stared into the flames, now barely licking the long since wasted logs. She was silent for a moment before speaking.
“After Serada slew the archdemon and ended the Fifth Blight, I thought that she and I would have some degree of peace. Carve out a life, serve the Maker as he willed. Rest for a few moments. Oh, we had such plans.”
A ghost of a smile came to Leliana’s lips, remembering a happier time. But the smile quickly disappeared.
“Not soon after the celebrations of the end of the Blight died down, she was called to Vigil’s Keep. And Divine Justinia called on me to serve as her Left Hand. Sereda is my greatest love and I hers. But that didn’t matter. We both had our duties, and neither of us could abandon them. That first night alone, when it all sunk in that we would not be reunited for some time, and the life we had planned could never come to pass, I couldn’t sleep. I felt as though I was suffocating, drowning in the abyss within my bed where my love had been.”
The concept of a Leliana that was once softer than she was flitted across Josephine’s mind, but she felt unable to truly picture such a thing.
For as long as she had known her friend, Leliana had always been pragmatic, and calculating. Many considered her to be cold and unfeeling. But Josephine had seen flashes of something deeper, kinder. In the small nugs that she bred, in her love for Divine Justinia, in the way that she was so fiercely protective over the people she loved, like Josephine. They had been flashes only, Josephine still couldn’t picture the full concept of a less intense Leliana. But as Leliana looked back at Josephine, the concept crystalized. She could see a fragment of who Leliana must have been, the sorrow crossing her face in a reflection of the same weariness that Josephine felt.
“This is not an experience I wanted for you, Josie. Being in love and being forced apart, it has a way of hardening your heart no matter how important your duties are. I didn’t realize that your relationship had grown to this point.”
Josephine nodded, leaning forward to bury her head in her hands.
“I love her, Leliana.”
Saying it out loud felt childish and silly, they really hadn’t known each other that long and with the world on the brink of disaster, love and romance felt trivial. But Josephine had heard dozens of tales of the Hero of Fereldan and her love. She knew Leliana understood.
“I didn’t have a chance to tell her before I got the news.”
“You should tell her now.”
“No.” That was completely out of the question, an idea that Josephine wouldn’t even entertain. “It would be unfair to her, when we cannot be together at all. And if I cannot maneuver my way out of this engagement, the knowledge of how I feel when I am bound to another would be a cruelty to impose on her.”
She was half-expecting Leliana to fight her on it, but thankfully the bard did not.
“You will figure this out Josie. Once you do, do not hesitate to tell her.” Leliana gave Josephine a small, sad smile. “You never want to be in the place where you wish that you had told her more often.”
The sorrow in Leliana’s words weighed in Josephine’s mind, even as Leliana changed the subject.
“In order for you to figure it out however, you need to sleep. Tomorrow you can try to deal with the bed. For now, the couch will do. Lay down.”
Part of Josephine resisted being treated like a fussy child, but a larger and much more exhausted part welcomed the familiarity of Leliana watching over her. So, slowly, she lay down on the couch. She was about to protest that she wouldn’t be able to sleep like this when Leliana started to sing.
It was a soft song, a memory of times past and a promise for a better tomorrow. Josephine had heard it before, sung at the occasional court event. But something in the way Leliana sang felt more like a lament, that the promised tomorrow was already almost gone. But still, Josephine felt herself starting to fall asleep. One question still burned in her mind, the last ember keeping her mind awake.
“Did you use to sing this to the Hero of Fereldan?”
The song wavered for a moment before continuing on. Sleep swarmed up to pull Josephine down to a welcome sleep, allowing her to hear just barely, Leliana’s answer.
“Not for a very long time. Good night Josie.”
Josephine, mercifully, slept.