The closing of the Breach went smoothly, even if it was a bit painful. It caused an explosion that had sent everyone flying, hitting the ground relatively hard. Jacquelyn, naturally, experienced the most pain. Even if she was gaining more control over the mark, it still hurt quite frequently. But their plan worked, and the Breach was closed. Solas' theory had proved correct once again, and Cullen would certainly be pleased to know that the templars had succeeded at their job just as well as the mages would have, had they been willing to help. However, relations between mages and templars was still strained, and the few mages Siara had managed to save from Tevinter's grasp had been unwilling to work alongside the templars, most likely from fear and distrust. Not that the templars had wanted their help, so Jacquelyn had just left it. There hadn't been much point in pressing the issue further.

The celebrations afterwards went relatively late into the night, torches and campfires being lit around Haven as snow fell delicately to the ground, building up in small piles on the ground where there weren't any flames. People danced to music, others got drunk, and yet others stood around listening to Varric's stories. Bull was having some kind of drinking competition with a bunch of people near the tavern, Sera joining in. Jacquelyn suspected that Vivienne had chosen not to partake in these celebrations, and she couldn't spot (or hear) any of the others around the place.

The Herald stood watching over all this, still feeling a bit tired after everything that had happened, her mind still reeling after everything and wishing that she could join in these celebrations but knowing that her mind was too all over the place to be able to properly enjoy herself. Though, the more she thought on it, the more she realised she'd love to drag Cullen into a dance, even if he didn't seem like he was much of a dancer. Or even like he was going to partake in these celebrations, not until later at the very least. And Jacquelyn wasn't entirely certain that she would be able to stay awake long enough for that later. She didn't looking around at the quiet crunch of snow behind her, recognising the footsteps as belonging to Cassandra.

"Solas confirms the heavens are scarred, but calm," she reported. "The Breach is sealed. We've reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory. Word of your heroism has spread."

Jacquelyn shook her head.

"This was something we all did," she turned to face Cassandra, "but we still have a lot of work to do. If there are still rifts out there, then our job is not yet finished. The world still needs the Inquisition."

"You're right. But we should give them tonight to celebrate."

"Of course. This was a significant victory. Everyone deserves this," she paused. "I assume we have had no word of Siara since she vanished?"

"None, and I don't think we will hear anything for some time."

"She knows things, Cassandra, things about the Inquisition that in the wrong hands could be –"

At that moment the warning bells started ringing, the celebrations stopping almost immediately.

"Forces approaching! To arms!" Cullen ordered, direction troops. Cassandra and Jacquelyn shared a quick look before rushing towards the gate. There was no time to ponder. No rest for the wicked, it would seem, Jacquelyn wishing she had time to complain about the lack of time to rest but knowing she didn't. Haven was in danger.

Jacen followed after Siara as she trudged through the snow, not seeming to show any desire to rest for the night. Something whispered to him that it was related to still being able to see Haven in the distance. Siara could still see the Inquisition, the thing she blamed for her troubles. He shook his head. Leliana was right.

He wanted her to stay with the Inquisition, wanted her to help it. He knew that she could - perhaps even that she should. A part of him just knew that Siara should be there, that it was where she was meant to be. That it wouldn't just be her helping the Inquisition, that it would also be the helping her. Jacen watched as Siara put her foot down on a slightly unstable bit of ground and losing her footing, sending her stumbling to the snow covered ground under the weight of her pack, Jacen's bow, and the events of the past few days, if not the past few weeks. He stepped forward, wanting to help her to her feet before he remembered that he couldn't.

He looked back in the direction they had come from, seeing only one set of footprints, letting it hit home that he wasn't exactly a part of Siara's world anymore. Sometimes he needed reminding he was dead.

Other times he needed reminding that he had ever lived.

When he turned back to Siara, she had shifted so she was kneeling. She had taken the bow off her back, now holding it in her hands. Her knuckles were white, whether from the cold or how tightly she was gripping the bow, Jacen couldn't tell. He couldn't read the expression on her face, either, her hair falling around her like a curtain.

He only got his answer when tiny damp droplets started appearing on the carvings of the bow.

Siara didn't cry, or almost never, anyway. But now she was letting the tears fall freely, her shoulders shaking slightly as she sobbed silently.

Jacen moved around so he could kneel in front of her, his face unreadable. He didn't fully comprehend why she was so upset, but at the same time he shared her pain. If he had gotten the same news that she had when he was still alive, then he would quite possibly be as much of a mess as she was. He reached out to touch her shoulder, not knowing what else he could do, but also being fully aware that she couldn't feel him. That she would be completely unaware of the gesture. He just let her cry. She needed to let it out before she could start to heal.

That was when the chiming of warning bells reached their ears Siara lifting her head and turning to face Haven, her eyes slightly red and eyelashes matted together, Jacen looking over her shoulder.

"They're going to need help, Siara," Jacen told her, his eyes flicking to her. As usual, there was no reaction. Then Siara pushed herself to her feet, Jacen's bow replaced on her back with her twin blades. She started walking again, continuing in the opposite direction of the sanctuary. Jacen shot to his feet, racing to get in front of her.

"You have friends down there. Varric, at the very least. And Dorian got you back to your correct time. You owe him, and you owe Varric. Don't turn your back on them, not when they're facing danger. Haven isn't the most military of places. They need all the help they can get, and I think you know it."

Siara's footsteps slowed until they stopped, not looking around. She stayed like that for a moment, not moving, shivering slightly from the biting wind. A growl-like sigh escaped her and she untied the ribbon she'd been given by the girl when dealing with Kildarn, pulling her hair back before braiding it as she started trudging back to Haven, muttering under her breath as she went. Jacen smiled. He knew Siara couldn't hear him; not properly, anyway, and he knew that she was good at being angry and holding grudges. But he also knew that no matter how many grudges she held, no matter how angry she was, it would never stop her from defending people who she cared for, or those who were defenceless innocents.

Returning to Haven to help was their duty.