Josephine always found it difficult to sleep in unfamiliar beds. Somehow, even when asleep, she knew she wasn't where she was supposed to be. Add to that the anxiety of what to do with Kirkwall. Of course, Varric was right. Varric is always right, and is also wildly handsome. But being right isn't the same as doing what's right.

It was a few hours before sunrise when she awoke again with her sheets tied up in knots around her ankles. With a huff, she untangled herself and stepped out onto the balcony.

It was a nice hotel, and Starkhaven's officers had managed to keep it relatively intact. She was given the room beside the prince's, apparently kept vacant. Security, perhaps. Or perhaps just for visiting dignitaries.

The world was still dim as she stepped out into the cold air, wrapping a robe tight around her form. Maker, what was she going to do?

"Though all before me is shadow, Yet shall the Maker be my guide."

Josephine paused at the soft, whispering voice, and stepped backwards, halfway into her room.

"I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light, And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost."

She leaned forward again, and peered onto the neighboring balcony. There knelt the prince, in the dim, predawn light, murmuring prayers. He was alone, dressed simply in cotton trousers and a linen shirt, his hair mussed. Josephine bit her lip and grasped the curtain behind her to better hide herself. Of course, giving the curtain even the smallest tug brought the curtain rod down with the sound of a bell's chime as it hit the floor.

(I know, that sounds like something out of a romantic comedy, the clumsy heroine trope, but it absolutely happened, exactly like that. Don't let Josephine tell you any differently.)

Sebastian hopped quickly to his feet, body tense, eyes wide. Upon spotting Josephine, his shoulders sagged. "Lady Montilyet."

"Highness... I-I just... Maker, I am so sorry." She padded barefoot out onto the cold marble of the balcony, watching the rod roll across her room.

"I'll have someone fix it in the morning," he answered with a sigh, leaning on the balcony rail.

They were on different balconies, separated by a sixty foot drop to the street below. Josephine hesitated, then crossed to the edge of her own balcony, closer to his. "You cannot sleep either?"

He hesitated, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. One hand self-consciously did up the top few buttons on his shirt. "Heavy is the head that wears the crown. And it's terribly uncomfortable to sleep in."

Was that a joke? She smiled weakly and rested her hand on the rail. "Haven't you a red velvet cushion to leave it on at night? Under glass, perhaps?"

He chuckled softly, then raked his fingers through his hair in an attempt to get it into place. "Now there's an idea. I'll have a crown keeper crafted straight away." He looked back over at her, "You're not thinking of tying bed sheets together and making an escape into the night, are you?"

Josephine shrugged with a little smile, "You did give me the idea. Can't be that difficult."

Maker, those blue eyes remained fixed on her, twinkling with amusement. He sighed, looking away again. "I apologize if I was short with you earlier. I have to-... I don't know." He rubbed his face with a hand. "Sometimes... I don't know." He sounded exhausted, weary, and lost.

"No one is making any of this easy for you, I can imagine," Josephine answered. "Leading a nation. Always needing to appear strong, in control. It must wear on you."

"I wasn't meant for any of this, you know." His hand fell back to the rail as he stood tall. "I had two older brothers who trained for running a kingdom. I had the same classes, of course, but no one cared if I didn't pay attention. Lachlan, he was supposed to be here, not me. And Evander. He had a military mind." He smiled again, wryly. "I only had a mind for troublemaking."

"You've changed quite a bit from your youth."

"Not so much. I'm sure many in the Inquisition think I'm just making trouble here." Sebastian motioned with a hand to the streets below. "Still every bit as brash today as I was at thirteen."

Her brows pulled together as she watched him. Less guarded, less paranoid, here on the balcony in the dark. "Does it matter a great deal to you? What the Inquisition thinks of you?"

His gaze flitted to her, briefly, then his lashes shadowed his eyes again. "What matters is what the Maker thinks of me. That I do His work. Enact His will. The Herald has to see that."

Josephine watched him a few moments, wrapping the robe a bit tighter. The wall was going back up. The window, open so briefly, was closing. Besides, was it so terrible that she wanted to see that smile again? "Tell me about Elthina."

He lifted his head, a brief expression of surprise on his face. It slowly turned into a sad smile, and he told her. He spoke of her warmth, her understanding, her patience. He told her of his time with the Chantry, learning to calm his temper, finding peace with the Maker.

She told him about Haven, of the Herald, of the faithful. She told him about her father, who shared Elthina's patience. She told him about the time she was able to outmaneuver assassins with a few strongly worded letters, and that made him laugh. He told her about his own brushes with danger. His stories were embellished with wide eyes and gesticulations as he told her about a dragon he helped slay with Hawke, and she laughed.

It was when the sun began to creep over the horizon when Josephine realized she'd been speaking to him for ages, with no mention of the war or the Inquisition. The both of them were leaning over the balcony rails towards one another, chatting away. Like friends.

Sebastian let out a hiss as he noticed the brightening sky. "The Dansemes wanted breakfast with me this morning. I'm grateful for the excuse to dodge it, my lady." He flashed her a grin.

She chuckled and shook her head, "Perhaps it is a good thing I only know the sisters by reputation."

"Vipers?"

"That is what they say."

"Entirely true. Best not give them the opportunity to strike."

Josephine giggled, "Why on earth are they with you? Do you trust them?"

The prince's smile turned sad again. "I don't trust any of them. Not a one."

She blinked in surprise. "Then why-"

"Because I need them." He rubbed his chin and stood straight, eyes on her. "What of you, Lady Montilyet? Can I trust you?"

Her voice was soft when she finally answered him after a thoughtful pause. "I would like to say yes, but I don't think either of us knows the other well enough for me to make a promise like that, your Highness."

It was his turn to wear an expression of surprise. Silly how a thing like honesty could get such a reaction, but Sebastian was no doubt used to being lied to. Used to not trusting anyone, despite how much they insist that they can be trusted. He scanned the city for a quiet moment. "Well. That's something easily remedied." He stood a bit taller. "Dine with me tomorrow. Or..." he motioned to the sun creeping over the market square. "I suppose I should say this evening."

Her shoulders tensed as earlier anxieties crept back into her muscles. "You will want my assessment. And our troops."

"No. Well. Yes. That is-..." He grimaced, shifting from foot to foot. "I need them, but I want-..." Another wince at his own words. He squared his shoulders and tried once more, "I would like your company. This..." He motioned towards her with a helpless expression. "This is the closest to normal I've felt in months. Dinner. Then business. Normalcy, then diplomacy. Is that fair?"

Varric insisted he was a good man. He was right, of course, but it certainly was nice to see a hint of that good man at last. "Most fair, your Highness."

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but turned at the sound of someone outside his door. A knock, a muffled voice. He gave her an apologetic wince, "I've kept you too long, my lady. Good morning."

He slipped quickly away, back into his room, and Josephine watched, full of hope and blissfully unaware that those would be the last words they would exchange.

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP.

Didn't she just put her head on the pillow? Ten minutes ago?

"Lady Montilyet!"

Josephine rolled over onto her back with a groan and squinted out at the morning light. More than ten minutes. Two hours perhaps.

Thumps on her door again, and a muffled voice she didn't recognise. "Lady Monilyet!"

She hauled herself from the comfortable bed, wrapped herself up in a robe and answered the door. Before her stood Sebastian's guard, the boring looking one from the garden. He looked both grim and apologetic.

"My lady," a quick bow. "Your carriage is ready."

"My what?" She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stood a bit straighter.

"The prince thanks you for your visit but requests that you leave immediately."

"What?" Josephine asked again. Her sleepy brain was still a few paces behind the conversation. "But last night-"

The guard raised a brow.

She cleared her throat, "I was under the impression his highness wished me to remain."

The guard, who Josephine gradually remembered was named Warren, gave her a blank look and shook his head. "Your carriage is ready," he repeated. "The prince thanks you for your visit but requests you leave immediately."

"Why?"

"I don't question his highness' orders, my lady. I can carry your things, if you like."

Josephine scowled at him. This wasn't right. She stepped away from the door and into her shoes. "I would like very much to speak to him. At once." She strode out into the hall to find that Warren was not alone. Two more guards, large ones, were with him.

"His highness wants you to leave, my lady." Warren stepped past her and picked up her valise. "We will escort you."

Something happened. Between the time they spoke and now, something had happened. Josephine stood in the hall in her bedclothes, robe, and fine slippers, scowling at each of the guards. "So not a request at all, then."

"I suppose not, my lady."

They ushered her with quiet, polite instance out to her carriage, where she found her own Inquisition soldiers equally mystified over their sudden eviction. None of them had seen the prince, and not one of them knew why they were being so suddenly evicted. Her valise was placed atop the carriage, and a small compliment of Starkhaven soldiers led them to the gate.

Josephine opened the carriage door and leaned out when they passed the Starkhaven command center, in the old guild hall. If only she could speak to him. See him. This was a mistake. One of his advisors was trying to get rid of her while he was distracted. Morning light sliced through the open doors, illuminating several figures within, huddled over papers and plans on a table.

Josephine sucked in a breath and called out, "Your highness!"

The man in white armor looked up, and their eyes met. Sebastian's jaw tightened as he watched her carriage roll by, and turned his attention back to the table. He certainly looked like he hadn't slept, nor had he shaved. He looked drawn, haggard, angry, and a moment later she couldn't see him at all as the carriage moved on, past the gates, and out of camp all together.

"So he did kick you out."

Josephine scowls and shakes her head, "Something is wrong. You're right, I think he's being manipulated. He doesn't trust a one of them, but one of them must have said something to convince him to kick us out. I can't imagine what, we got on so well. And he seems to be a great supporter of the Inquisition."

I sigh and squint up at the sky. Must be nearly noon now, and we've made no headway at all. Bringing in my ringer did squat. "I think we're out of time."

"I think so, too, yes." Ruffles leans against her carriage. "If I could only talk to him..."

Donnic shakes his head. "He never wanted to talk to anyone."

"Which is weird, right?" I pivot to look up at Donnic. "I don't care what the missus says, Don, he's not boring Choir Boy. He can't have changed that much. Something else-"

"Look."

The three of us turn our gazes up, where Cole stands atop the carriage, the bow still slung over his back. A long spindly arm points at the horizon. "Old trees, new form. New purpose."

The hell is he on about? Days like this I hate being short. Donnic half climbs up onto the carriage and curses in alarm. "Trebuchets. A battering ram. Andraste's ass, he's got siege equipment."

Well, shit. Shit! "Where the hell did he get-" Not important now. "How far out?"

Donnic shakes his head and climbs down. "He'll have it in the gates within an hour."

Shit! "We won't get back to Kirkwall by then!" I spin to Josephine, "Tell me you have ravens."

Josephine still looks a bit stunned, but she dashes to the back to her carriage, "Of course I have ravens!" A whole compartment at the back of the wagon opens like a wardrobe to reveal empty perches. Feathers and bird shit cover the bottom of the compartment. Josephine stares wide eyed at the complete and utter lack of ravens. She even closes the doors, and opens it back up again. Still empty.

"Good thing you like music, Ruffles. You've been played like a fiddle." But by whom? Not Sebastian. It can't be.

She closes the doors again and hangs her head, muttering to herself in Antivan. Finally, she stands tall again. "Right. Take the horses."

I turn to look, and Cole is already sitting on the back of one of her two chestnut mares. No. Noooo, not horses. "But... you need them to pull-"

Ruffles shakes her head and steps towards one of her guards, "Unharness them. You'll have to ride bareback," she adds, looking at me.

I grimace at the horse. Damn it all, I really don't want to have to resort to this. No part of the dwarven body was built for horseback riding. Especially not the sensitive bits. I always liked to say no where is worth going that you can't get to on foot. Getting dragged across Thedas with the Inquisitor still had the benefit of roads and carriages stuffed with camping gear. "But..." For a guy who comes up with shit for a living, I'm having a hard time coming up with an excuse here. Or an alternative. All I'm doing is losing us time. "But... horses."

"Varric." She gives me a look I'm used to getting from my mother. "If you want to get back in Kirkwall in time to warn them, you are going to put yourself on that horse. We will find another way home. We have the luxury of time."

Donnic is already on the back of the second horse, "You can ride with Cole. Try not to fall off, and keep up." With a snap of the reigns, he's already gone.

Cole offers me his hand. I take it, and he hauls me up. I make a few... adjustments, then grasp the horse about the neck. Then, we move, following Donnic at a brisk, painful pace. I hate this. I hate this so much.

I hate that now I can see the trebuchets, too. I hate leaving Josephine in the middle of the road, forced to walk to the nearest village in her fine shoes and bedclothes. I hate not knowing how to stop this, I hate that I've failed in stopping this. I hate that I couldn't get through to Sebastian. I hate that Hawke couldn't be here. That Anders started this. That Bartrand started this. That I started this.

Cole slips an arm around me, and I was barely aware I was starting to slip too far to the side, in danger of falling off completely.

"It isn't too late," he whispers in my ear.

I grip the horse's neck tighter, sit up a bit straighter, and nod to the kid. We've got horses. We can get back home before Starkhaven can even load those damn trebuchets. The people of Kirkwall, Aveline and the rest. We can still save them.