Diana wasn't sure what happened after Alec mentioned Cullen's name. She was only now very aware that her hand was cold and her knees were soaked through her green dress; she had been dry heaving outside in the snow for several minutes while Rosalie fluttered around her with a concerned expression.

"I hope you're not sick," she murmured, putting a cool hand upon Diana's forehead. She barely felt the touch, her eyes staring into the snow and slowly going out of focus. She let Rosalie pull her up from the ground, brushing flakes of snow from Diana's dark curls and retrieving her hat where it had fallen. "Let's get you to bed."

She was silent as Rosalie led her back to her room. Her thoughts consumed her. Cullen. She knew Cullen. He was from her life before this, when she had been the Inquisitor. When she had-

There was so much blood, always. Her blood, someone else's. There had been non-stop violence in her life for a very long time, there was so much pressure on her shoulders and so many people depending on her, so many people dying for her. Never-ending choices, never-ending responsibilities, never-ending pain and nightmares and Solas - Solas - he -

Diana reached for her left arm as Rosalie worked on prying her soaked boots off of her feet. Her fingers touched nothing.

"Do you... miss your arm?" Rosalie asked quietly from where she kneeled on the floor next to Diana's bed. Dark eyes settled on the innkeeper. Where a second ago there had been too many emotions, too many thoughts, and too much pain cleaving her chest in half, now there was emptiness. There was numbness and nothing and it felt like her body was shutting down feelings lest she overload herself and burst apart into a thousand tiny pieces. She was Diana, but beyond that she was unsure of everything else.

"I don't," she heard herself say.

"You look upset," Rosalie said softly, concern creasing between her eyebrows.

"I'm upset… with how it was taken."

Encouraged by Diana's first instance of sharing the slightest information about her missing arm, Rosalie gently pressed onward. "How was it taken?"

But Diana just shook her head, back and forth and back and forth. Rosalie watched her a for a few seconds and then nodded once, her mouth a thin and serious line. She looked so like Cullen now that Diana wasn't sure how she never saw it before.

The former Inquisitor was left in solitude for the rest of the day; Rosalie only came in once a few hours later, bringing a bowl of simple broth and a chunk of chewy bread with it. If she knew that Diana was pretending to sleep when she came into the room to leave the food, she politely pretended to not notice and didn't try to engage Diana in any more conversation.

The next morning, Diana woke early after only a few hours of fitful sleep. It was cold and dark outside still. I need to leave.

Diana forced herself to eat some of the broth that Rosalie had left the night before, even though it was cold now. She wasn't hungry but knew she hadn't eaten in almost a day, so she needed the broth for strength.

After her small breakfast, she began to pack the few things she had put into the chest of drawers that Rosalie and Alec had provided to her. She would leave the clothes that Rosalie had given her behind; the secondhand gowns and trousers had never really been hers to begin with.

Diana folded the borrowed clothes as neatly as possible and placed them in gentle pile on her bed. She hesitated, then set a small pouch of coins on top of the clothes. Rosalie and Alec were good people. They deserved to have good things come their way; maybe this money would help them.

Maybe this would help distract them from her sudden departure.

Diana sighed and pulled out parchment and ink from her bag, setting it on the small table in the corner of her room. She always wrote Josephine a letter when she left a town or city. Her last letter had been written… what, six months ago? Yes, that was right… six months ago she had left her temporary residence and came to Holmfirth.

Josephine -

I'm fine. Sorry it took so long to write this. I found a place I liked. People I liked. But a complication just came up so I'm leaving again. Thank you for getting coin to me. Hope you're doing well.

D.

It felt strange, like writing a letter to a foggy childhood memory. Diana closed her eyes. She could remember what Josephine looked like. She remembered her big sleeves, her shiny hair, her nice smile. But how did her nose look? Did she have a birthmark on her face? Was her chin pointy? What did her voice sound like?

Josephine was fading.

The Inquisition was fading.

And Diana felt nothing.

She blew on the ink, trying to get it to dry faster. She could send the letter on her way out of Holmfirth.

There was a hesitant knock on her bedroom door.

"Lena?"

It was Alec. He always rose early and made breakfast for the guests. He must have seen the candle light beneath her door.

She didn't respond.

"I know you're awake in there. You're not… you're not planning on leaving, are you?" his voice was as soft and as kind as ever, like he was speaking to a skittish newborn lamb. "We were gonna wait until the reunion to ask you, but… we wanted to ask you if you'd be godmother…"

Diana froze, the parchment in her hand quivering. Godmother. That meant-

"Rosalie and I are expecting a baby," he sounded proud. Diana knew they had been trying to have a baby since they had been married two summers ago. "We wanted to ask you to be her godmother. Well, to be the baby's godmother… we don't know if it's a boy or girl yet but I'm hoping for a girl, I just want to…"

His voice faded out. Diana's eyes read the words on her letter over and over.

I'm fine. Sorry it took so long to write this. I found a place I liked. People I liked.

I found a place I liked. People I liked.

People I liked.

"Lena?" Alec's voice cut through the mantra in her head.

She heard herself speak. "Yes, Alec. I will."

And she began to unpack. Not just the few things she had only put into the pack this morning, but her daggers, too. One by one they came out of her pack and she set them into their new spots in the formerly empty drawers.

Out came her leather armor, singed from fire in some places and corroded from acid in others but still hardy. Out came her autographed copy of Hard in Hightown with a special inscription inside the front page. She laid them out one by one, carefully touching them with a quaking hand.

Slowly, she let the memories sink into her.

Varric. His laugh, his humor, the pain in his eyes when Hawke was-

No.

Cassandra. Her determination, her stubbornness, the disappointment when she wasn't chosen as the next Divine-

No.

A frustrated hiss ripped itself out of her chest and then a strangled noise between a sob and a bitter laugh came from somewhere deep inside of Diana. She was so tired. Tired of feeling like this, tired of being haunted by moments that she could never change, tired of seeing Solas standing at the corners of her vision, tired of reliving pain in her dreams every night.

An overwhelming fatigue swept over her suddenly and she felt like she could sleep for several days if she tried. But when she blew out the candles in her room and laid down in her bed, sleep didn't come.