Josephine was worried.
She hadn't seen Avis Lavellan since the confrontation in the ballroom. She knew that she oughtn't be too concerned when the Inquisitor had spent most of the evening prowling the palace's back hallways, but still. Tipping the balance of power in the most influential nation on the continent had to take a lot out of a person. She just wanted to make sure Lavellan was not sulking alone in some corner somewhere. Heaven knows the woman did it often enough.
Josephine tried not to make it too obvious that she was searching for someone specific as she drifted through the ballroom, returning polite smiles and toasting to Orlais' bright future whenever someone raised a glass. She was largely successful. She was perfectly capable of doing her job and caring about her Inquisitor at the same time, after all. She'd been doing it for months.
Josephine suppressed a private sigh as she faded to the fringes of the crowd. For months, she'd been nursing somewhat more than platonic feelings for the elven Inquisitor. For months, she'd forced herself to focus on her duties even as her mind pulled her ever in Lavellan's direction. And for months, she'd hidden the crushing disappointment of watching the other woman choose someone else over her, time and time again.
And Solas wasn't even nice to her!
Josephine straightened her spine and dismissed that thought like she would an irate dignitary. It would do her no good to indulge in such bitterness; she knew from experience. She would settle for being a good friend. She was perfectly content with being Lavellan's friend and nothing more. Perfectly. It was completely fine.
That was the only reason she was seeking out the other woman as the evening wound toward its close. Truly.
Josephine surrendered her champagne glass to a passing servant, thinking that perhaps she didn't need any help waxing introspective tonight. Hands now empty, she clasped them behind her back as she paced the perimeter of the room, peering down each hallway and out onto each dim balcony. She hoped she looked casual and not painfully out of place. Lavellan always made her composure seem to fly out the window.
Almost as if the thought had summoned her, the Inquisitor turned up on the next balcony Josephine passed. At the sight of her, the ambassador breathed a sigh of relief even as her chest tightened. Lavellan was alone. No brooding Solas, nor teasing Sera, nor even harrowed Cassandra stood at her side. Sulking, Josephine confirmed in her mind, to distract herself from the other thoughts that threatened to surface, as expected.
Before she could convince herself otherwise, Josephine stepped out into the night air to join her.
The Inquisitor noticed her approach immediately. She turned a little sharply, like she wasn't sure if the new presence was friendly or not, and Josephine couldn't blame her. The woman was still nursing a bruise above her right eye from the excitement of tonight, and she doubted that was the worst of her injuries.
But Lavellan relaxed when she recognized Josephine. "Ambassador," she greeted, voice as unreadable as her green eyes in the darkness. "I did not expect to see you here."
"Were you expecting someone else?" Josephine asked, and instantly regretted the edge of jealousy that made it into her mild words.
"No. I suppose not." Avis smiled thinly, sadly. Josephine knew exactly what was on her mind; felt it like a blow to the heart. She wished she could soothe away the Inquisitor's pain, but she knew she was not the right person for that. She was not the person Lavellan wanted for that.
Instead she swallowed and approached the railing tentatively, unsure if her presence was entirely welcome. "Is everything all right?" she asked. "You look troubled."
Lavellan shook her head a fraction, dismissive. "I'm just worn out. Tonight has been…very long." She leaned against the balcony and looked out over the gardens as if imagining herself someplace else.
Josephine understood the feeling perfectly. "It was a tumultuous evening, but Orlais is safe now. It was worth the struggle," she said diplomatically. Then she paused; dared to edge a little closer along the railing. It's what any friend would have done. "Is there anything I can do?" she pressed gently. "Can I get you anything? A drink, perhaps?"
Avis turned her head and those green eyes flashed like jade in the moonlight. Josephine almost flinched under the pressure, fearing a dismissal at best and a biting retort at worst. But what came out of the Inquisitor's mouth was the last thing she expected: "Would you care to dance with me, Lady Josephine?" she asked, soft and sudden and altogether terrifying.
Josephine couldn't breathe.
Instead of answering the way she so wanted to—with a wholehearted yes! and maybe even an embrace, on a whim—she searched the Inquisitor's face, straining to find a sign that she was joking. The last thing she wanted was to make a fool of herself, or scare the other woman away. She knew she was letting the pause stretch too long as she stood there trying to determine whether Lavellan had actually just asked that or if she was simply manifesting a daydream, but—
"You don't have to, of course," Lavellan added, seeming to deflate in the absence of a reply. "I was just—"
"I would love to, my lady," Josephine blurted. Sweet Andraste, she was supposed to be good at talking to people! Instead her heart was pounding in the wake of her too-enthusiastic response, and Avis was looking at her with a bemused slant to her gold brows. At least she wasn't laughing, Josephine supposed. Or storming off in disgust.
"All right," the elf said, voice still soft. She stepped back from the railing and turned to face Josephine, reaching out a hand. "Let's do it."
When Josephine slid her hand into the Inquisitor's, she found the woman's palm calloused and warm. Long, slim fingers guided their hold into the correct arrangement as Avis's other hand landed on Josephine's waist. The ambassador almost laughed—of course Lavellan would lead, even though she was three inches shorter and as big around as a fireplace poker. Josephine rested her free hand on the elf's shoulder and found it surprisingly well muscled. She was glad for the darkness to hide her definite flush.
And as frightening as it was to be pressed against the object of her affections on a dark balcony at the Winter Palace, alone, Josephine would not have traded the chance for the world. Inconvenient feelings aside, she wanted to be there for Lavellan. If for some reason her preferred suitor had neglected to seek her out on this rather unique occasion, Josephine would gladly fill the void. Even if she was not really the one Avis wanted.
"Ready?" the elf breathed, making Josephine swallow dry even as she nodded.
Avis took an inhale that the ambassador felt as well as heard, and then with as much as a nudge, the two were dancing.
The music wafting from the ballroom was audible here, if only faintly. The steady rhythm of low strings vibrated between them, through them, guiding their steps. At first those steps were halting and stilted, but as the moments passed, Lavellan's warmth seeped past Josephine's reservations and lulled her into a more natural flow. And once they were truly dancing together, Andraste, they could dance. Lavellan moved like she did in battle, all fierce confidence and liquid grace. Josephine, clinging to her corded shoulder, matched her every step.
It took her a while to register that the elf was humming something under her breath. Once she'd noticed, Josephine tilted her head to catch it, intimately close. It didn't take her long to realize that it was no Orlesian ballroom music floating from Avis's throat, but something much older. Something much more meaningful. Something Elvhen.
Josephine felt a twist of guilt. It seemed wrong; unfair that she should be experiencing this moment instead of Solas, who surely would have appreciated it much more deeply.
But Solas had not sought out the Inquisitor. She had.
Josephine dared to press a little closer, bringing her hips flush to Lavellan's as they turned, and the elf's arm slid encouragingly around her back. This was selfish, she knew, but she didn't much care. They had just saved Orlais. They had just overturned Corypheus's plans for the moment, Avis was safe and alive and here, and they deserved to celebrate.
Josephine was so caught up in her thoughts that she did not notice the music end. Avis brought them to a stop so suddenly that she gasped, feeling like she was waking from a dream.
Only, the dream had not really ended. Avis Lavellan stood hardly a breath away, arms still draped around her, eyes heavy and half-lidded. She had her head tilted so the moonlight turned her gold hair silver, and Josephine wondered if it was on purpose.
You're beautiful, she thought.
Avis's lips curled in a grin, and she realized she'd said it aloud.
Oh, bloody— "I mean—"
"Shh." The elf let her hands drift away from their proper positions; one coming to rest on Josephine's abdomen, the other at the corner of her jaw. And—
Josephine couldn't breathe. For all she'd hoped and prayed, she hadn't expected a moment like this to occur outside the confines of her own mind. The weight of Lavellan's hands, the warmth of her body, the way she was watching her, was straight out of a fantasy. And she did not know what to do.
Oh, she knew what she wanted to do, but old insecurity gnawed at her mind. What about Solas? she wanted to ask. What about you? In theory, she did not just want to be a pale substitute for Avis's true desires. But in practice—
She could not tear her gaze from the other woman's lips. Avis Lavellan had such lovely lips. They could tear a man apart with rancorous words, but in moments like this, they seemed soft as the glow of moonlight. And so very close.
Josephine held her breath to feel the breeze of Lavellan's on her face instead. It would be so easy. All she had to do was lean in an inch. All she had to do was tighten her fingers on the elf's shoulder and tilt her head and—
But no. It wouldn't be real, would it? Josephine knew where the Inquisitor's heart truly lay. She would only be kidding herself; setting herself up for pain for the sake of a moment of pleasure. Josephine was stronger than that. She had to be, for both their sakes.
With a deep breath that trembled in her chest and a sad, empty sigh, she pulled away.
Lavellan froze for all of a second before crumbling like battered fortress walls. She turned away, planting her hands on the railing and leaning on them heavily. "Why won't anyone just kiss me?" she said to no one, and her voice was small, strained; so unlike the Avis Lavellan Josephine knew. And it was in that moment she was finally able to see the young woman underneath all the armor: just a single, lonely soul in a world that demanded too much of her without ever giving back. And she was in love with a man who would not give her the attention she deserved.
"Avis," she said through an aching throat, "I want to. I do. But—"
"There's always a 'but,'" murmured Lavellan hollowly.
Distressed, Josephine took her shoulder and pulled so the elf faced her. "What about Solas?" she finally said aloud.
The pain in Lavellan's eyes was clear, but she feigned an uncaring shrug. "What about him?"
"I know how you feel about him," said Josephine, ignoring the young woman's scoff and continuing despite how it hurt, "and I know you wish it was him standing here instead of me, but—"
"No," Avis interrupted. She turned to face the ambassador fully, reaching out with something like concern knitting her brow. "Josephine, I never said that. I'm glad you're here. I love your company."
Josephine let the elf take her hands, but did not reciprocate. "That's very kind of you, but we both know it's not the same." She looked away, feeling her ears burn with shame. This wasn't exactly how she'd meant to confess her feelings to Lavellan. In fact, she'd intended never to confess them at all. How embarrassing for her to take a lovely moment and turn it into something as awkward as this.
"Does it have to be the same?"
The question caught Josephine off guard. "What?"
"The way I feel about Solas and the way I feel about you," said Lavellan. "It's not the same, but I don't see why that matters. I want to kiss you. Isn't that enough?" She squeezed Josephine's hands and the look on her face was so raw; so innocent, it was almost too much.
Josephine let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Oh, if only it were that simple. Perhaps a lifetime of human customs had ruined her, but she could not conceive of the sort of freedom Avis was implying. "I don't know, my darling. I fear I'd want you all to myself," she admitted, "but—"
But.
Lavellan wanted to kiss her. She'd said it in as many words. That was more than Josephine had ever expected. More than she had ever hoped for.
And she wanted to kiss Lavellan too, obviously. But that wasn't all she wanted. She wanted Lavellan. Heart and soul and all the commitment that came along with it. Love, even. If their relationship never went beyond a single embrace on a dark, lonely balcony, would it really be enough?
She knew that the answer was no. Not for her.
But she was not the only one in this equation. There was also Avis Lavellan—the real one, not the one Josephine held in her mind to cherish and pine for—standing before her, wanting something that she could give so easily. Wanting something that she wanted too.
Josephine realized that she'd been doomed from the start.
"But?" the elf prompted, barely a breath. Josephine tried to recall whether she'd ever seen Lavellan look so vulnerable; so mortal. She was really only a girl.
And she was still clinging to Josephine's hands, bleeding hope.
The ambassador decided that it was time to abandon words, for once. Instead she gently untangled one of her hands from Avis's, giving the elf only an instant to look disappointed before she was reaching up and threading her fingers through soft gold hair. She both felt and heard the sigh that shuddered out of the Inquisitor's chest, and just like that the woman was melting into her touch, setting her heart alight as the distance between them dwindled.
Josephine gave a little tug, and that was all it took for Avis to tip her chin up and close the distance in a kiss, finally.
If Avis Lavellan danced like she fought, she kissed like it, too. Her lips were as soft as the ambassador had imagined, but insistent, pressing into hers with quiet, coiled power. Impatient. The elf's hands were the same, sliding around Josephine's waist and up her ribcage as if she wanted to feel her breath hitch every time they touched. The air between them grew scorching as their breaths mixed between hungry kisses.
Josephine knew she was in over her head, but she was having the most pleasant time drowning.
Her head was in such a buzz from Avis's hands, her lips, her heat, that Josephine didn't notice the elf slowly switching their positions. It was only when her back hit the balcony railing that Josephine gasped to awareness, heart jumping into her throat at the sudden sensation of nothing but air behind her.
But she wasn't falling. The Inquisitor's strong arm was looped about her waist, holding her steady, and the trust and relief that flooded her at that realization was overwhelming. She let out a shaky sigh, chest feeling full to bursting. She wrapped her arms around Lavellan's strong shoulders and kissed her hard, deep.
Avis noticed. She gave a laugh that was closer to a purr, and Josephine felt it vibrate through her own body. "Did you really think I'd let you fall?" the Inquisitor murmured against her lips.
And oh, that was the question, wasn't it? That was what all of this came back to, in the end. If Josephine gave Lavellan what she wanted, would there be anyone to catch her when she fell? When this night ended and they looked upon each other in the light of day, would it still be the same?
When Avis finally got what she really wanted—who she really wanted—would she bother to look back at Josephine at all?
She couldn't say. All she knew was that she didn't want this moment to end. With Lavellan's hands holding her close and her lips chasing away all the doubts that had ever crossed her mind, Josephine felt safe. She felt wanted. Loved. Even if it was only a farce, in this moment it felt true.
But no matter how much she wanted it to last, she knew better.
She laughed mirthlessly against Lavellan's lips and confessed, "I'm afraid I already have."
…