Josephine had never known true chaos until the Temple of Sacred Ashes exploded and the sky itself was torn open. Had never seen anything like the people of Haven running and screaming as they stared at the temple on the hill and the flames and the gaping, swirling hole in the very skin of world that now loomed over them.
Cassandra and the others had run headfirst into the wreckage, of course, and had come back with an unconscious elven woman whose hand was glowing with an unnatural green light.
In all of it, Josephine had felt rather lost. Her skill set required time and stationery and messengers. In the moment, in an emergency such as this, what good was she?
The mysterious woman, the possible traitor, the future Inquisitor (as absurd the very idea would have seemed at the time, had any of them known) had barely been in Haven five minutes when he had arrived.
Josephine remembers because of his calm.
In a collection of moments when everyone had been panicking, and unsure of what to do, she remembers how this elven man had walked right into Haven with a sense of confidence and purpose. Walked right up to Josephine, who had been the only one not occupied with either the future Inquisitor (as Cassandra and Leliana had been) or keeping the people around them under control (as Cullen had gone off to see to).
Josephine had been using her keen eye to scour the crowds for anything that might help, any tiny detail that could point to a traitor or an ally or someone in need of aid other than the obvious.
Apparently it had been enough to give her some impression of authority. (Or it could have been the clipboard, come to think of it. The clipboard works wonders.)
"I wish to speak to whoever is in charge here," he had said to her as he approached, politely but with that unshakeable confidence and strange almost-authority about him. "The Hands of the Divine, they are here, are they not?"
Josephine had lifted an eyebrow at him. "They are. They are also extremely occupied with the situation at hand. If you don't mind my asking, who are you, to make such demands of their time?"
"You may call me Solas," he had replied, "I am an apostate, one with a unique knowledge, which you may desperately need."
Josephine's eyebrow had climbed even higher. "What kind of knowledge?"
He had given her a strange, fleeting sort of smile, and looked behind him to the huge hole in the sky. "The kind that may be able to help you with that."
And so she had fetched Leliana and Cassandra, and Solas had yielded his staff to the latter immediately in exchange for the chance to study the woman who had come out of the fade rift at the temple.
It had turned out that had he not come to them, the lone survivor might not have survived at all. Their Inquisitor might never have been. It's something Josephine has thought about more and more, lately.
She's felt an immense gratitude towards Solas for a long while now, and even expressed it a few times.
Raen might have died before we even knew her name, had it not been for you, she had said to him once.
You make her forget, for a while, all that rides on her shoulders, she had told him a fair bit later, once it had become obvious that there was something intense and romantic between he and Lavellan. I worry about her, but a little less when I see her with you.
I'm glad, he had said in return. You are a good friend to her, Ambassador. She speaks of you with great fondness.
Solas has a great deal of disdain in him for certain types of people, this much is obvious. With that in mind, there is something gratifying about being treated with respect by him, something compelling and charming in his eyes. Something that makes it all too easy for Josephine to understand how Lavellan had fallen for him so quickly.
In the midst of it all, the minor detail that Josephine at the same time had become rather enamoured with the Inquisitor had simply not seemed remarkably important.
Grand tales had always made unrequited love sound so romantic, so grand despite the tragedy. The reality is not nearly as gratifying.
The reality is trying not to notice how the sun falls on Raen's hair while they make plans in the war room, how it brings out the power of the red not always visible in lower light. It's wondering when her favourite colour became green until she next looks her in the eye and feels herself go oh, of course. It's ignoring the absurd little backflips her stomach does when Raen smiles at her or touches her hand, or hugs her.
It's pushing all the silly fluttering feelings aside because it isn't professional, and because Raen is head over heels for somebody else regardless, someone who feels the same way about her.
Which is… perfectly fine. With everything else going on, it is hardly something that is going to make the world feel as if it is going to come crashing down. The books definitely exaggerated about that part.
All it is is an ache in her chest, small but ever present, whenever Raen walks into the room, or whenever someone mentions Raen and Solas like that. That's nothing that can't be easily pushed down and ignored. It will take much more to make it any kind of problem, and Josephine is determined that it neverwill be.
Or she had been, until now.
How can she look at Solas the same way, now? She's always had so much respect for him, as well as a healthy measure of fascination. The few times he's indulged her with stories of the past from his walking through the Fade, she can't remember ever being so captivated.
Now, when she glimpses him around Skyhold, or hears his name, she can only see is Raen's bare, tear stained face, only feel Raen's fingers clutching at her, only hear the sound of Raen's sobbing.
Solas had done that. No matter his intentions, no matter that they are now supposedly on alright terms and merely 'paused' until after Corypheus, it's not something Josephine can forget.
I would never treat her the way he did last night, she thinks after Raen leaves her office, only to stop a moment later. It's a dangerous thought. She's never allowed herself to think like that before, to entertain any kind of actual scenario where -
Where nothing. She is imagining nothing. Lavellan is her friend, one of the dearest friends she has come to possess, and she will not let her ridiculous crush get in the way of that.
It is a few nights later, when almost everyone else is surely in bed, as is sensible, that Josephine runs into Solas.
It's in the main hall, and quiet enough that they notice each other even when exiting from their respective doors some way apart. She looks up from her clipboard and he from a book in his hands, and their eyes meet.
"Ambassador," he says, with a polite incline of his head. He doesn't raise his voice at all, but with the hall entirely empty, he doesn't need to.
"Solas," she replies, walking in his direction because she needs to see if Cullen is still awake and thus he is in her path.
"You are well, I hope?"
"Better now that one of my friends is not so emotionally distressed," Josephine says without quite meaning to, and it's a testament to how exhausted she is that it slips out at all.
Solas lifts an eyebrow at her, and she bites her lip, closing her eyes for a moment and wishing she had not been so careless.
"If this is about Lavellan-"
"Well, unless you have been toying with Leliana's emotions without my knowing it," Josephine says offhandedly, letting her gaze drift to one of the braziers nearby.
"What happened between the Inquisitor and myself was private."
"On the contrary, I believe some privacy is forfeit when one party leaves another to be discovered in a near hysterical state by her friends," Josephine replies, a little sharply. A moment later, she sighs and rubs her temples. "I have always had a great respect for you, Solas, but after that night, I will admit it is hard for me to even look at you. So, if you'll excuse me-"
She walks past him.
"I never wished to cause her pain," he says, more urgently than she's heard him speak in a long time. When she turns to look at him over her shoulder, his eyes are intent and earnest in a way that has her believing him in a heartbeat. He loves her deeply, that much has never been in doubt.
"And yet, you did," she replies. "I beg you do not make the same mistake again, for her sake. And your own. There are many here who would take that as a near personal grievance, after the first time. She is dear to all of us."
"Myself included," he says, somewhat defensively.
Josephine nods. "I should hope so. And I should hope that it will be evident in your actions going forward. I know nothing of your reasons, but if you will allow me to be frank, I do not believe there is any possible excuse for such behaviour as your recent exhibition. She loves you, Solas. Deeply. So very deeply. That is a precious gift that should not be pushed aside."
What is she saying? Is this her place, her business? What would the Inquisitor say, to know that Josephine is saying these things to her lover?
Solas' expression is impossible to read. "I am aware."
"Well… good."
"I'll keep what you have said in mind."
"I'm glad to hear it. Goodnight, Solas."
"Goodnight, Ambassador Montilyet."
Sometimes Josephine finds herself rather envious of Cassandra. And Sera as well. They get to be by Lavellan's side out in the field, always with her unless some unusual circumstance dictates Cassandra is needed for something elsewhere or Sera is called away by those strange friends of hers. Dorian and Bull are with her too, when they can be, and much more frequently now that Lavellan seems less keen on taking Solas with her. She gets the idea that the Tevinter and Qunari's many trips out with Lavellan have gone a long way to changing their rather antagonistic attitude towards one another to an unexpected sort of fondness.
It's not that Josephine wishes she were out there with them, exactly. Lavellan regales her with stories and they sound frightful, even if she always tells them with a grin and a fire in her eyes that speaks to how alive it had made her feel. Besides, the fact that Lavellan always spends her first evening back at Skyhold with her, sitting by the fireplace and telling her of her latest adventure and near death experience, is something close to Josephine's heart. Those nights are so precious to her, and she wouldn't trade them for anything.
All the same, it does mean that Josephine is always left worrying, just a little, every time that Lavellan and the others leave. Worrying that something could go wrong, that a freak accident could derail their whole organisation, that she will lose a dear friend who she so adores.
Especially now, when the Inquisitor seems to be on a dragon hunting spree. The way she and Sera and Bull go on, it's evident they actually get some kind of kick out of it. Even Cassandra has a funny little light in her eyes when they talk about it, though she doesn't tend to say much. She's from a family of dragon hunters, so Josephine assumes it is her finding a kind of amusement that she has ended up following in their footsteps after all.
And through it all, dragons aside, Josephine is envious of how Cassandra gets to be with Raen so much, day to day.
Sometimes they cannot have what they want, though, and Josephine would never actually want to be in Cassandra's place. It is mere wistful fantasy and nothing more.
Perhaps it doesn't come as a surprise to hear that the Inquisitor was injured in a fight with a dragon in the Western Approach. She had been helping out an Orlesian draconologist, of all things.
Josephine meets them at the gates, a little worried, but Raen is on her feet and smiling as she walks in and sees Josephine. She's limping a little, and holding her shoulder where Josephine can see some bandages, but it doesn't seem to be too bad an injury.
"Worried for me?" Raen asks as they embrace tightly. "They exaggerate in the reports, I promise. Don't worry about me."
"Worrying about you is my job, Inquisitor," Josephine replies.
"I thought your job entails running your family's estate, being our ambassador, taking care of guests, and making sure everyone thinks we're wonderful, with a minimum of a dozen meetings a day," Raen says with a laugh. "How could you possibly have time to worry about me as well?"
"I manage," Josephine says dryly. "Now-"
"Inquisitor!"
Solas has arrived. He strides up to them, concern on his face as he looks at Raen.
"Yes?" Raen asks, arching an eyebrow at him, seemingly to hide her bewilderment.
"They said you were injured," he says, eyes flicking to her bandages and then searching her face.
"I was," Raen replied, voice rather flat. "I'll get over it."
"I see. Of course. I apologise for my interruption. I am glad that you're alright." He nods at her, with the same cordial politeness he might any other, and moves to depart, and pain flashes across Raen's face.
"Solas-"
He doesn't turn around and Raen swallows whatever she had been about to say, jaw tense.
"Nevermind," she mutters instead.
Josephine sees a need to distract her, and so clasps both of her hands in her own.
"Come, you must tell me everything, you know your dragon stories have been some of my favourites," she says with an eager smile, and Raen's face softens as she smiles at her.
"Of course. I've been looking forward to it."
*quiet sobbing* I just love Josephine Montilyet so much.
Thanks for reading, please let me know what you thought!