Work Text:
trevelyan likes to listen.
the inquisition keeps growing, growing, growing
until all their voices become this pulse—
the livelihood of skyhold lulls her frantic anxiety into a dark corner of her mind
i am not not enough, i need to be more
andraste, andraste, a n d r a s t e
if only for a moment.
drunken laughs from the tavern, sharp intake of metal against metal from the armory
the people, oh the people fill her up where her faith cannot.
she lays her head on a pillow, the balcony doors open wide
and she would
just listen
they would never know how much they soothe their herald during these moments of panic and restlessness
because trevelyan sleeps soundly for the first time in months.
we take our blessings as they come.