A/N – This chapter is a doozy, and will conclude our endgame sads! It shall be fluffs from here on out, at least for the most part.

Abelas Part II

She silently watched the celebrations in the courtyard below, a foot dangling lazily over the edge of the parapet, hugging her other knee to her chest as her back rested against the aged stone. Had she been in view of any living soul, they most certainly would be alarmed at her precarious perch, but she chose this spot specifically because no one would think to look for her here. Save for maybe Cole. Even if someone were to look exactly where she sat, they would be none the wiser: the large bonfire in the training grounds cast long, flickering shadows, and she was nestled in a large swath of darkness.

She glanced enviously at her people drinking and dancing happily around the courtyard. Indeed, the danger of the Breach was gone and Corypheus was defeated because of the Inquisition, they should celebrate. She wished she could do so genuinely. They were…so happy. And so she was, as well.

For them.

She bit back a sigh, hating herself still for her melancholy, despite its supposed justification. Despite her promises she would be strong. She had just hoped when her task was completed, she, too, could be happy with them, not just for them.

But no…they were free. Free to choose their own paths in this world. Free to laugh, dance, drink, love…but not her. She was stuck. Trapped in the politics, the scheming, the battles, the constant noise and commotion.

That's why she was up here, at the top of farthest tower at the periphery of Skyhold, sheltered in the dark, desperately seeking refuge from the noise, frivolity, happiness, and the comforting words of her friends. She shivered suddenly, aware of how the unyielding stone was leaching the heat from her back. She looked longingly at the roaring blaze of the central bonfire, but she refused to leave her place of solace.

She grimaced at her unconscious use of the word, shaking her head rapidly as her eyes began to burn. She couldn't think of him. She had been successful in holding it together thus far…at least, mostly. She pinched her thigh and yelped, her brain successfully distracted.

She couldn't stand it any longer, their said looks as they watched her shuffle along the halls, reticent and weary with a smile on her face that most would think genuine, but not her Inner Circle. She tried to stay out of sight to allow herself to recover and work out how she was to survive the next few months.

Her friends, of course, offered their condolences, words of comfort, offers of help, but she just politely asked them to pretend as though everything was normal and to enjoy their victory. It was want she wanted.

For they, at least, would be able to enjoy it. She could only pretend and wait, hoping that she would again gain motivation to be the genuine leader these people needed. It just felt so…dishonest…preaching what she could not even do herself.

And if she were being honest with herself, she knew that the end would likely not be the end - she'd never be free to do as she wished anymore, not truly. She hadn't really in the past year, either. Her responsibility was to the people of the Inquisition, to lead them, be a figurehead that both mages and elves could be accepted as equals and even rulers in the new world. She had to be strong for posterity's sake – for her people and for all of Thedas. She couldn't abandon them to wallow in her grief. It would be beyond selfish and hypocritical. She…had to endure.

Her brain's particular choice of phrasing snatched her yet again out of the present, and she was watching Solas as he kneeled in the dry grass of the Exalted Plains as he ended the life of his spirit friend - the immeasurable sadness that buckled his shoulders forward as he stooped the edge of the creek, head bowed. Yet even then, he had smiled as he turned to her to thank her for her help. Her eyes began to burn as the memory fleshed out his handsome face.

"Now I must endure."

Those were his words, echoing that of his ethereal friend's. Then he abruptly left her with Cassandra and Cole. She should still smell the reek of burning flesh from the cindered chunks of human mages that he obliterated in his righteous fury.

She shook herself to return to the present, wiping her face on her tunic sleeve. Even then, she thought it odd that he had left to mourn alone, but she had excused his actions due to her own ignorance of his person.

Warning bells. Warning bells everywhere, and she had ignored them all.

She couldn't look for him, either. He knew that when he left. He knew that she took her responsibilities seriously, that the rebuilding of Thedas required her to be strong, resilient. That she would stay for the sake of her people even at the cost of herself.

She hated him for it.

She also hated herself for her moment of weakness at his disappearance. She hated that her friends saw her like that as well. She hated that she couldn't be strong and move on. She hated her feeling of impotence, her continued weakness, her reason for hiding up here on the parapet.

She just hoped that whatever reason he had for leaving, it was worth what he was doing to her. And that…maybe…maybe… he would return to her when he finished his task. Thus leaving her forever waiting for his potential return…

Damn him.

"No matter what comes, know that what we had was real." Was it? Was it…really? She knew it wasn't to last – only she had thought he had been protecting himself against her probable death, to spare himself the heartache later. She never would have guessed that he was planning on leaving all along.

She almost wished that she had died.

If she had, it would be easy for her people to move on and place another on her throne. It seemed almost preferable to the crushing weight in her chest that threatened to choke her, drowning her in sorrow. Her inability to move on, despite promises to herself that she could. Her constant battle to put on a brave face, to smile and laugh.

She tried to convince herself that she wished Solas would have died so that she could move on, and felt instant shame at the thought.

So here she was, watching the joy of her subjects as they celebrated their victory in the darkness and the cold as she desperately tried to sort her still confused feelings.

It had been three days since she woke from Dorian's mercifully induced magical sleep. Thankfully, he was the only one with her when she woke. Her eyes opened slowly, and she saw the worn stones of her ceiling and knew she was back in her room at Skyhold. Smiling, remembering their victory, she rolled over and reached for her lover. Her hands dropped unexpectedly to cold fabric. Her bed was empty. She sat up in alarm, remembering, and frantically looked about the room, but the only eyes to be found were Dorian's, who had moved from her desk into a chair beside her bed. They were worried.

Her eyes asked the desperate question she was unable to voice: Did he return?

Dorian's face fell and he shook his head sadly. She bowed her head in acknowledgement, numb before the slam of emotions upended her calm and manifested as choked sobs.

Dorian reached out and placed one hand on her knee, another on her back, offering her the comfort of his presence and support. She tried to compose herself, taking deep breaths and sitting up straight as possible.

"It's okay, love. Go ahead. I'm the only one here with you." She understood his words: she was alone and could cry out in privacy - something that would have been impossible at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

And cry she did. She allowed her feelings of anguish and betrayal to wash through her, hoping they would cease if only she could cry them all out. When she began to choke on her tears, he handed a handkerchief to her, which she took gratefully. She pressed her face into the absorbing fabric, taking comfort in the darkness of the narrowed world as she screamed her heartache into it.

When her sobs subsided to occasional sniffs, she emerged. As she tried to wipe away the mess from her face, she only succeeded in distributing it more thoroughly onto her skin. Embarrassed, she sniffed loudly and averted her eyes from Dorian in shame, pulling her knees to her chest.

His large brown hand came into view, bearing a wettened apothecary cloth. Only then her appreciative eyes sought the Tevinter's, which were gentle and understanding. He waited, not saying anything, just being with her. She cleaned her face better and folded the wet cloth on her lap, heaving a large sigh.

Realizing her stiffness, she uncurled herself from her defensive position and stretched, arms reaching high into the air. Then she collapsed, allowing her arms to drop limply to her lap and her head to hang, humiliation preventing her from meeting Dorian's gaze. They sat like that for a few minutes, Arya scrambling to gain control as the human mage sat quietly, waiting for her to speak. Eventually…he ended the silence.

"I'm so sorry, love." Dorian said simply. She nodded slightly in reply, not trusting herself to speak for fear her voice would break and she'd have to give into crying again. She sighed dejectedly, and felt a warm hand slide into her grip. She squeezed it gratefully, still not able to meet his gaze. She was glad he didn't try to placate her grief with the knowledge that they won and she should be happy about, and for that she was very thankful.

They just sat there in silence for a while, Arya trying to get a grip on her emotions with Dorian providing a friend and anchor to reality.

"No…." she began. She felt him look up at her, alarmed. She continued, "No, I am the one who should be sorry, Dorian. I failed you." Dorian laughed quietly at that, but was silenced by her hurt, angry glance. He coughed, and explained.

"I am afraid you are mistaken, my dear - I mean, it's not as if all of Thedas owes you their lives and more for closing the Breach and defeating Corypheus. We'd be up to our collective asses in demons and heaven knows what else by now if not for you." She shook her head, perturbed.

"No…I mean…I fell apart after defeating Corypheus. Because he…" she stopped. "I can't….I c-c-can't…." She stopped, closing her eyes and swallowing, refusing to give in and cry again.

Dorian was distraught. It hurt him so to see her so vulnerable and defeated, such a stark contrast from the feisty woman he would've followed into the Fade itself and back.

"You don't have to talk to me about it if you don't want to, love." His eyes were soft and perceptive. "We…well, mainly Leliana and Josephine bought you some time to sort yourself out before you face your adoring masses." She shook her head and began again.

"I can't be the Inquisitor if I…."

"Have feelings?" interjected the Tevinter. That silenced her, and she looked down, tears brimming in her eyes.

"It's…more than just that." She whispered, wracked with guilt and inadequacy.

"No, sweet thing – it is not." He sighed, and she felt her chin lift slightly until she was forced to meet his eyes. "Please listen to what I have to tell you before you do anything or decide anything drastic, alright?" His eyes held hers until she assented with a slight nod of her head. It startled her how insightful he could be at times, that he guessed her intentions.

"Now…I'm not even going to bother telling you that you shouldn't feel this way, because that would both be asinine and untrue. You got your heart stomped on, sweet thing, and you don't deserve that. Especially not after all you have done for us. And for me." Her brows furrowed, begging elaboration, not feeling worthy of anything anyways.

"Not only did you save all of our lives, you gave us something to live for – the promise of a better future." His words made sense to her, yet did not lessen the crushing weight on her heart, nor did it mitigate her feeling on inadequacy. She just felt so…so….

Empty.

"Arya." She looked up, shocked. She couldn't recall him ever using her name before, preferring generic terms of endearment.

"Do you remember how I reacted when you told me father wanted to meet me?" She nodded, and a smile tore from her lips at the memory of his indignation.

"Then you must also remember when we went to meet the old bastard. You refused to let me leave without hearing what my father had to say, and if I hadn't listened, I would still be at ends with my family." He smirked. "I mean, I guess we are still at ends, but at least we have a better understanding of each other. It didn't end in another wizard's duel, that's a start." He admitted. "I still don't wish to return to Tevinter, but at least I can look at my past through new eyes. That would never have happened if I had not listened to you, my dear, dear friend." She smiled slightly.

"It's unfair that you are denied the chance for that future, or at least the one you wanted and had planned for. But that doesn't mean you won't be able to move on, love." She barked out a bitter laugh.

Dorian shrugged a shoulder, conceding her point as he grimaced.

"I know…you might not want to, I know, but trust me when I say it gets better. It will never be easy, ever. But it will be better."

"How could you possibly know that?" she spat angrily. "How can you possibly know that I can get over it? I can't be a leader to these people if I can't even control my own despair like a stupid lovesick little girl. I'd be the biggest hypocrite ever. They deserve someone who won't fall apart. And I am clearly incapable of being that person." The words hurt as they came pouring out of mouth, but she knew they were true. She had never felt so…weak in her entire life.

Dorian squeezed her hand.

"You'd only be a hypocrite if you gave into that despair. I've seen you emerge unscathed from impossibly horrific things, and I admire you completely for it. The fact you are a person who has feelings and suffers only allows you to empathize with your people better and makes you compassionate. Would you want them to give up?" He gestured in the general direction of the rest of the castle.

She frowned, still unconvinced.

"Come." He pulled her to her feet and brought her to the window, pointing down into the courtyard below. She leaned against the cool sill and squinted through the afternoon light down at her keep – the drone of many excited voices complemented the bustling activity she saw below as her eyes adjusted to the sun's rays. People were laughing, dancing, drinking.

She stared, numb, uncomprehending his meaning, then she shivered in the still frosty air. Dorian placed his arm around her, drawing her close to his body to both warm her and shield her from the crisp wind. She allowed the closeness, enjoying the warmth of her body if not her heart.

"All of these people are gathered here today, not because they believed in the Inquisition, persay – it's because they believed in you. You, a Dalish elf mage. While some of these people lost everything and might have come to the Inquisition out of necessity, so many more gave up their homes and lives willingly to come help fight with you because they trusted that you would win. And you did."

"You say you can't, well…the world condemned the heathen apostate elf, a woman, even - the gall! Yet you proved to those that looked down their nose at you that actually, yes - you jolly well could. And if you felt like it, you damn well could do so again."

"Now…you just have to prove to yourself that you can." He paused, then continued.

"You are the strongest, wisest, best person I have ever had to the pleasure to meet in my lifetime, and I am so, so sorry that the world benefited from your truly heroic actions, then turned around and took a giant shit on you." She laughed in spite of herself, his words reaching her. He smiled, and gave her shoulders a squeeze.

"If anybody could stay strong for her people, it's you. I have never doubted you before, and I don't doubt you now. Don't you dare doubt yourself – it would break my heart for you to give up now after all you have done. Regardless of what some bald elf thinks."

The pride in his voice as her spoke of her soothed her broken heart. Overwhelmed, she turned in his arms and wrapped her arms around his chest, the highest she could reach on his tall frame, clinging to him. He wrapped his other arm around her, holding her close.

"I love you, Dorian. I am so glad that you are here with me." She said the words into his chest and felt his arms squeeze around her tighter.

"I love you, too, my friend. You must, must trust what I say." She nodded into his chest. He pulled back from her so that he could lift her chin with a finger so that she had to look into his eyes.

"But you can, my dear. And you must. You have brought us so far, changed the world for the better in so many ways, you can't leave us to muck it all up now. And muck it up, people certainly will. Quite spectacularly, I would imagine. This time, right now, is more important than the closing of the Breach itself, for now…now we rebuild the world. And you have shown us the good that can come from forgiveness, trust, and through giving people a second chance."

"And I know that I, certainly, and all of those people," he gestured to the frivolity in the courtyard below, "would suffer greatly from your loss as our figurehead. Show them what elves and mages can accomplish. Show those who doubted you that you are not yet done shaming them with your good heart. Show him." he paused. "Show him what he walked away from: a strong, courageous woman who refuses to be beaten despite the odds and obstacles."

He watched her as she looked down at her feet, then at the people in the courtyard below.

He was right. It didn't matter if she couldn't participate in the happiness she fought for. It didn't matter that Solas was gone and that she might never see him again. It didn't even matter that she be happy – she refused to give up and let others suffer for her weakness. The real work began now, and she was determined that the world not throw away its chance to start anew and get things right for a change.

She felt anger stir in her heart at the thought of all she worked for crumbling around her. She refused to let that happen, regardless of the cost to herself. She looked up at him, squaring her shoulders. "Alright, let's go meet the crowd." He grinned broadly at her, picking her up and squeezing her so hard she had to croak out for him to release her.

She grinned up at him when he put her down, then frowned as he wrinkled his nose.

"Might I…suggest a bath first?" he asked delicately. She laughed genuinely and punched his arm.

"You're awful, you know that, right?"

"Oh, quite." He grinned wickedly. "I will fetch your handmaiden. Beware – she was…slightly put out I insisted on caring for you, she might need mollifying."

He turned and began to walk into her chambers.

"Dorian?"

"Yes, sweet thing?" he paused and looked over his shoulder at her.

"Thank you…for…for everything." The words felt inadequate, so she tried to layer her voice with all the thanks and appreciation and love she felt for the man. For helping her, enabling her to move on. For giving her privacy to mourn as she chose.

He smiled, eyes bright with understanding.

"Again, love, thank you." And he turned and left her.

Her handmaiden, a young elven orphan named Elsa she rescued from an alienage in Orlais, ran to Arya and threw her arms around her mistress and friend, wailing indiscriminate words and she clung to her and wept. Arya, touched, hugged her back, soothing her with hushed condolences.

"That…awful man refused to let me see you! I was so upset! I would've clocked him if I'd had the chance!" Arya laughed.

"I think he would've let you, he's actually a big softie." Elsa giggled, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

"I'm sorry that he didn't let you in, but I'm sure he needed peace and quiet to watch the spell he put on me." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth, either. Arya knew Dorian wanted her to recover her state of mind before she met with anyone else, and for that, she was grateful. As much as she loved this sweet girl, having to console her through her own despair would've been close to impossible.

She spent a few more minutes consoling the fretting girl, who then bustled off to prepare her bath water when she had composed herself. Arya followed her, sadness slowly working its way into the cracks of her resolve. She beat it back, angry. It helped that Elsa was there – she didn't want to have to explain her despair to her. Instead, she allowed herself to be coddled by the blonde elf as Elsa hummed a happy, soothing tune as she ran the sponge up and down her sore muscles. She sighed and sunk into the warm water, allowing the tension to drain from her smooth muscles.

Her brain permitted her a momentary reprieve from her emotions, allowing her to enjoy the warmth of the tub and Elsa's happy chatter as she babbled about the bustle of the castle as it prepared to receive its guests for the victory celebration. She said nothing, but relaxed and did as her tiny handmaiden commanded, sitting, standing, or procuring an appendage to wash.

"Elsa." She asked suddenly.

"Yes'm?" She was trimming her nails with a sharp knife, now. Her tongue protruding slightly in her concentration.

"Are you…happy here with me? I have told you before that you have no need to stay with me. I gave you freedom. Especially with Corypheus now gone…the world is about to change for the better. You don't need to be a servant to anyone anymore." They had talked about this before, but Elsa seemed reluctant to divulge her reasons for staying even then.

Elsa frowned slightly, removing the knife from Arya's hands. "No, miss. I would much rather stay with you. You aren't…unhappy with me, are you?" Her voice was upset and heavy with fear.

"No! Not at all! I just…you can go anywhere now. Make a life for yourself. You don't need to be a servant."

"I'm not a servant, miss. I could've left immediately when you saved me, but I didn't. I'm your friend. I like being here, with you. The castle is interesting and full of different sorts of people. I wouldn't even have anywhere else I'd want to go." Her voice was businesslike, even, but rang with sincerity.

"Besides…what would you do without me?" the blond elf grinned hugely and Arya laughed. She recognized Elsa still didn't want to talk about it just yet. Besides, Arya did enjoy her company. She let the matter drop.

"Certainly I'd be much, much dirtier. And I could never braid my hair the way you do."

They spent the rest of Arya's bath in comfortable silence, and her friend helped her dry off with a warm fluffy towel, then dressed into her customary Skyhold attire. While she still preferred to do these things herself, she knew how happy it made Elsa if she let her help.

Varric and Dorian were both waiting for her when she emerged from her washroom, scrubbed clean and refreshed. Her eyes softened when they saw the dwarf, whose faced was both relieved and distressed to see her.

Varric came to her instantly, hesitating slightly before he threw his arms around her waist and clung to her tightly. Her heart broke and she hugged him back, strongly reminded of how she comforted him after Hawke's death.

"I'm all right, Varric. Well...mostly." She admitted. She felt him chuckle against her and he pulled away, backing away slightly so he could gaze at her face without creating a crick in his neck.

"You okay?" he asked seriously. She thought about it.

"No." she answered truthfully. "But I will live. And I will go on. As I must." Her eyes flicked to Dorian, who gave her a small smile.

"Yea…well…shit, girl." She almost laughed. They gathered some chairs around her desk.

"Well…what happened? How long was I out?" they both knew she wanted elaboration on the events after Corypheus's defeat. Elsa came over and began to braid her hair, her deft and delicate fingers soothing against her scalp.

"Only a couple of days, and you woke up a few hours after we returned to Skyhold ourselves." Began Dorian "I figured you wouldn't want to be out long, but would rather…work things out here." He poured her a drink of water from a pitcher on her desk, which she accepted with a small thanks and then drained. Varric chuckled and continued the story.

"Well, after you blew Corypheus out of the sky and the plugged the hole in the sky, everything went rather nuts, as you can imagine. We sent Iron Bull and the others ahead to…distract the Inquisition so we could get you home without people paying attention." She nodded, abashed and grateful.

"Thank you, Varric. I'm…I'm sorry for how I reacted." Shame rose from her heart, but Varric waved his hand at her dismissively.

"It's nothing. I just try to help when I can."

"It's not nothing, at all…I can't thank you enough…" she continued. Varric interrupted her.

"Seriously…don't mention it. You will ruin my reputation for being a davishing, uncaring rogue." But his eyes were soft as they held hers. She just smiled then, eyes glistening, love filling her as she looked at her two friends. She might have lost her heart, but certainly not all of it. Maybe it was possible to overcome what were sure to be some rough days ahead.

Varric went on tell her about their journey back to Skyhold, which had taken a few days. Cole had stayed with them both, and Cassandra returned shortly after they left the decimated temple after sending a raven to Leliana, who arrived on a lathered horse later the next day accompanied by two of her lieutenants. After some brief discussion, they set off again, traveling quietly and unobtrusively through the mountains across the same path they first traveled to reach Skyhold on their retreat from Haven.

The Nightingale managed to sneak them into the castle through some prison tunnels, where they simply waited for Dorian's magic to fade and her to awaken.

"Ruffles is beside herself with preparations for the celebration, and hopes that you will be able address all the dignitaries that are flooding through the gates sometime soon." Arya sighed regretfully, wishing to do absolutely anything besides put on her politicking face and greet the sycophants. Varric saw her apprehension.

"Don't worry, we've got your back. You can face them whenever you wish. We certainly would understand if you wanted to wait a bit." She shook her head emphatically.

"Gods, no. Let's get this over with when I have some wind in my sails." She faked a smile to hide her dread, but squared her shoulders and stood, heading towards the door with her friends at her heels.

Those few days were hell for her. The one thing everyone wanted to talk to her about was the one thing she was trying desperately to keep from thinking about: Solas.

Every single member of her party came up to ask her about it, but she refused to talk about it. She knew that they were trying to help, that they were concerned for her, but she just couldn't discuss about him with anyone, not yet. Her biggest concern was meeting Cole, who was surprisingly absent for the entire day.

That first day was the worst: it was a long, painful, and tested her emotional endurance to the maximum, but she made it through. It was only when Elsa left her for the night that she crawled into her bed and wept silently into the covers. Unable to sleep for fear of what painful memories her dreams might bring, she threw off the covers and stood, pulling on a robe. She decided to greet the stars, hoping to take comfort one of the few constants of her life: the thousands, millions of twinkling stars.

When she opened a door to the balcony, she saw Cole for the first time since she awoke. He was sitting facing the mountains, feet dangling over the edge of the balcony, do his characteristic rocking, face hidden under his hat. She tied her robe around herself more tightly and approached him.

"Lonely. Hurt. My fault." He greeted her, eyes sad.

"Yea…well…what else did you expect?" The words weren't rancid, but soft, accepting. She knew she would be unable to avoid talking about what plagued her most with Cole, who must see into her unhappy thoughts, with her heart screaming in pain as it was. But he didn't speak again for several minutes. They sat staring at the mountains together, the snowcapped mountains twinkling as they reflected the light of the moon and stars.

"I'm sorry that he hurt you." Cole said simply.

"Thank you, Cole."

Arya was trying to work through a way to ask if…if he had any messages for her, if he could find a way to talk to him for her, to ask why he left. She had yet to enter his room in the tower, fearing her controlled calm around her subjects would be upended by entering his personal space in her castle.

She assumed her grief echoed her thoughts in Cole's mind, and thus, felt no need to give voice to her questions.

"Solas, bright and sad, observes and accepts. Spirit self, seeing the soul, Solas, but somehow sorrows."

The words were familiar, he had told them to her before, but deduced no more from their meaning now than when he first uttered them to her.

"He didn't want to leave you. His thoughts were so strong, so sad, and he knew he would hurt you, so he didn't want to leave you. But he had to."

"Why? Why did he have to, Cole?" she asked urgently, hoping he would know. Cole blinked at her, then turned from her, resuming his rocking.

"He hates it all because of the Darkness behind the door. Some doors should stay shut." She huffed in frustration with his riddles, turning away from him, angry at herself for being mad at him. He couldn't help who he was.

"I'm sorry, Cole, but with your gift, I fear that you might see the path I now must walk in solitude forever" Arya had looked up, hope filling her heart as the familiar timbre of Solas's voice rang through the spirit of compassion. She whirled abruptly, approaching him, her breath caught in her throat as she hung onto his words, and she found herself unable to move, to breathe, but stood…waiting in awe, her hands wringing together.

"The fate is mine alone. Indeed, I would not wish it on an enemy, much less someone that I once cared for."

Once…cared for? Did he not care for her still? Desperate and heartbroken, she hung onto his every word, hoping for explanation.

"Though you reach out in compassion…I must now insist that you…forget." The spirit shook itself, the wobbling of his hat made the motion all the more accentuated.

"I'm…what were we talking about?" He seemed taken aback at her proximity, the tears streaming openly down her face as she stared at him intensely.

"Hoping, hungry, heartbroken, hearing his voice….hurts…" He seemed confused by her thoughts.

"Did…he speak through me? Did he make me forget?" Disappointed, she nodded glumly, wiping her tears from her face, her grief fresh from Solas's words.

"I'm sorry…I don't…I don't remember." She nodded, unable to process this new development just yet.

"Do…do you want me to help you forget?" his question startled her, but not nearly so much as her want to make the pain disappear. To forget Solas….what he meant to her…what he taught her…

To forget…his face, the feel of his hands on her flesh, his excitement at sharing his world in the Fade with her, his eyes as he made love to her…no….she didn't want to forget. She didn't need to answer him for him to know.

"He loves you." The proximity of the whisper made her jump, as she felt the breath against he pointed ear. Annoyed at being startled and overwhelmed with the new development, she composed herself enough to scold and turned to find the balcony deserted. He had vanished.

Loves you. Not loved. Loves. Does he? Cole has no reason to lie to her, and didn't even know if spirits could lie…demons could lie, certainly. She sighed, and gathered up her nightclothes, fighting frantically to not cry.

A horrible realization came to her as she went to the washroom to ready herself for bed. Having been completely cared for by Elsa earlier, she hadn't needed to check her appearance in the mirror. As she glanced into the reflective glass, she was taken aback by how alien her face appeared for lack of her vallaslin. Even if he loved her, she'd be reminded with every glance in a mirror that he left her, barefaced and alone. Anger swelled in her heart and her glowing fist shot out into the mirror's face, shattering the glass and sending pieces flying everywhere.

Her entire world was a damn lie.

You were a mistake. You should never have existed

Her people's culture, including her vallaslin, her love. All lies. All just one big joke after another at her expense. She collapsed onto the floor, burying her face in her hands, but she remembered Dorian's words about how she had to be a leader for them all.

She had to move on. And now…I must endure.

People need me. I shall try to move on. I can do it. I will do it. I will show them all. I will show him.

Maybe one day, he will come for me. I can look forward to that.

But I'm certainly not going to expect it.

And so here she was, alone, scared, and cold as she watched her people celebrate their victory, her victory in the castle courtyard below. Some moments were better than others, and she allowed herself these weak moments in private at the top of her keep, in the dark, out of prying eyes. She accepted these moments of doubt, for they allowed her to keep up her act in the daylight. It was necessary.

She remembered Cassandra's words about happiness being second to the duty of others. She wished she could be so selfless. She certainly tried.

And she would continue to try until the day she died, love or no love. She looked to the starry sky, and called out gently.

"Please, vhenan…please come back to me." The night remained cold and silent, and she sighed.

"And so now…I must endure."

A/N: Again, I promise the sads will be done after this chapter, at least mostly! The next few chapters are fluffs because fluffs are very, very much needed after that endgame. Curse you, Weekes! But not really, please keep writing! :D