Work Text:
Skyhold’s looming towers had never been a more welcome sight. Herah would have cheered the moment they came into view, but exhaustion kept her arms pinned at her sides and allowed for nothing more than a rasping hum to escape her throat.
Home. She glanced at the others, noting the way Dorian dug his heels into his mount and crowded into Varric’s horse, urging them up the path. She wasn’t the only one eager for the civilized comforts of the hold. Even Iron Bull hadn’t refused a ride back to Skyhold; the proud Qunari jumping onto a hart without so much as a quip as to how only the weak used mounts.
Then again, anyone would need rest after their week.
The plan had been simple. Follow the marching soldiers into the foothold at Emprise du Lion, locate the red templars, and remove their presence from the region. However, three fortresses, seven rifts, several quarries, and three--three- dragons later had left them with anything but simple.
But they were home now. Herah flicked her wrist at the guards manning the gate, offering them as shallow as of a salute as she could without appearing rude. The onslaught of greetings were a little harder to deal with once her party rode through the gates. Mercifully, her hart didn’t have the temper to deal with bystanders, and Herah only shrugged her shoulders and smiled as he shouldered a path through all the well-wishers.
“Finally!” Ahead, Dorian slid off the saddle and all but tossed the reins to the nearest stable hand. “I’m going to soak in the tub until my skin looks like a prune. Then maybe I’ll stand a chance at getting this grime off.”
Dismounting, Herah shook her head at the approaching stable boy and directed him to Iron Bull instead. “Just make sure you don’t scandalize the attendants again, okay?”
“Me? Never!” Dorian rubbed the stubble on his chin. “It’s those lovely men that haul the water who should watch out.”
“Dorian.” Despite her attempted scolding, a smile tugged at Herah’s lips.
“Give it up, Boss. You know it takes more than words to get him to behave.”
“Yeah. Sparkles here had been missing from Skyhold for a whole week. That’s seven days of debauchery he has to make up for.” Varric patted the arm of the servant who had helped him dismount and turned to the castle. “As for me, I’m going to drink until I can pretend like this was all one of my more elaborate stories.”
Iron Bull snorted and trudged after him. “Care for some company? I can’t wait to tell Krem I took out three of those horny bastards without him.” He swung a fist through the air. “Just wait till he sees their heads! That’ll shut him up for at least a day.”
Almost as an afterthought, the three of them turned to Herah. She waved them on, jingling the reins in her hand as an excuse. “Go get some rest, everyone. Nice work.”
They nodded and left. Alone, Herah waved off the stable boy once more and led her hart into his pen. Slowly, more so because of her own energy levels than any attempt not to spook him, she removed the saddle and brushed him down. When finished, she filled both his feeder and water tub, then patted him on the forehead before exiting.
The walk up courtyard stairs stunk. Every time she dragged her feet up a step she was painfully reminded of the new blisters on the bottom of her feet and the rashes forming where the mobile parts of her armor rubbed against her skin. Still, she forced a brisk pace so that the patrons in the yard wouldn’t attempt to pull her into a conversation.
“Inquisitor, you need to put in some effort to be friendly to the visiting nobles. If we wish to continue to count on them for monetary support, then you must-- as you say-- play nice with the hoity-toties.” The memory of Josephine’s scolding voice had Herah breaking out into a smile--her first real one in days-- and she suffered the raw ache to raise her hand in welcome to the dignitaries scattered about.
It seemed to please them. Chatter followed Herah into the main hall, but no one approached her for more. Grateful for the reprieve, and eager to escape before it ended, she ducked and dodged through the crowd, not pausing until she reached the wooden door that led into the ambassador's office.
Fingers on the handle, Herah chewed her lip when she heard the hitch-pitched screeching of some noble within. Should she go in, she would no doubt be pulled into whatever argument was taking place. But leaving meant not seeing Josephine for hours yet, as it was currently midday; Josephine’s busiest time.
Choices, choices.
Two seconds away from pushing open the door, Herah startled when a shout rang out near the door. Standing a least a full head taller than anyone in the room, she had a clear view of the perpetrator and she couldn’t bolt out of the room fast enough as soon as she recognized his face. Lord Chancer must have ridden all night to beat them to Skyhold. No doubt he was eager to hear of her recent exploits in du Lion, and to set up as large of a party as he possibly could with the dragon heads. But, pining for Josephine or not, Herah refused to let him catch her for yet another round of bragging.
So she stumbled through the door to her quarters, mumbling orders to the guards that she was not to be disturbed unless Corypheus himself came knocking. She handled the stairs to her room about as well as the ones in the courtyard, only this time with a hand dragging against the stone wall for balance while she climbed.
Maker, when did her armor get so heavy? Fumbling to the couch, Herah cocked a hip against it and leaned down to pick at the straps of her greaves. After her third attempt at unlatching them, in which she only succeeded in tightening them more, she growled and straightened.
“Right. Bulky gloves first.” Unwilling to remain on her feet any longer, she jostled around and sank heavily onto the couch. It creaked as she settled into it, the piece two sizes too small for her large frame. At some point she needed to talk to the requisition officer about getting a larger one, but this one was padded and soft and oh-so-comfortable as she rested her head against the frame.
Slung over the furniture as she was, Herah had to raise her arm awfully high to see as she undid the clasps binding the gauntlet to her wrist. It seemed like a horrendous waste of effort, especially since the movement had her sliding into the couch even further, her horns catching lightly on the fabric of the arm as she shouldered into the groove where the cushions met.
Why did she needed to take off her armor again? She never went long without it, surely it wouldn’t matter too much if she left it on. For now, at least. Just until she had the chance to take a short nap and regain some facility.
Herah sighed and tilted her cheek into the pillow by her head. One arm crossed over her stomach while the other reached down to aid her attempt to raise her legs onto the cushions as well. Her height kept her from stretching out all the way, an awkward bend remaining in her knees no matter how she shifted.
It mattered little, however, as the discomfort vanished along with her consciousness the moment she allowed her eyes to slip shut.
----------------
“.....ath.”
Herah groaned, swatting the weight on her arm away.
A sigh and the hand was back, shaking her with a more insistent touch. “My lady, please.”
“Go away, Harding. Whatever the hell it is can wait.” Swinging out once more, Herah paused when, instead of the smooth ripple of chainmail, her palm brushed against silk. She curled her fingers into the fabric, the arm over her eyes shifting so she could peek at the intruder.
Brown eyes and an indulgent smile greeted her. “Should I be jealous that you mistook me for another coming to wake you?”
Herah blinked. Then again. The world spun into blurry focus, rocks and trees shifting into the stone walls of her room and the bedroll beneath her to the softer cushion of her couch.
“Josephine,” she murmured, cringing at the roughness of her voice.
“Indeed.” Josephine reached for Herah’s hand, lacing their fingers together and tugging. “Now, come along.”
Even hovering at the edge of sleep, Herah had more than enough strength to resist the pull. She tugged right back, chuckling when Josephine had to catch herself on the couch to avoid falling on top of her. “Come along where?” She rasped, folding an arm behind her head. “ ’m comfortable right here. And sleeping. Did you notice the sleeping?”
“I did.” A light blush dusted Josephine’s cheeks. She straightened, but kept their fingers intertwined. “I also noticed you had yet to remove your armor, and were sleeping at an angle that would leave you sore for days.” Again she pulled, her free hand stroking along Herah’s forearm. At Herah’s groaned complaint she giggled. “You need to move to the bed, dear heart. I will let you sleep once you are tucked in.”
“Promise?” She really didn’t want to move. Josephine’s words rang true--she could already feel the crick in her neck-- but moving took time and effort and required a degree of skill Herah wasn’t sure she could manage at the moment.
Expression soft, Josephine ducked to place a kiss on her knuckles. “Promise.”
Well, that settled it. It took a moment of stiff concentration, but Herah managed to swing her legs off the couch and sit up in a somewhat upright position. Josephine offered her both hands before she could ask, leaning backwards to provide an anchor for Herah to use to stand. It worked, barely, and soon she stood, tottering, in front of the fireplace.
“Step one, complete.” Tucking herself under Herah’s arm, Josephine led them over to the edge of the bed. “Now to rid you of that---no!” Jerking sharply, she spun and bodily blocked Herah from flopping down on the bed. “My lady, please, as much as I would like to, I cannot get your armor off without your help.” She fussed with the straps of the metal cuirass.
“Always so formal,” Herah grumbled. At Josephine’s confused look she shook her head, reaching out to steady herself against the bedpost and going for the straps as well.
Her hands were batted away. Josephine clucked and undid the binds on her own, only accepting help when she needed a piece of heavy plate removed.
“Alright,” She said, setting aside the cuirass and shoulder pauldrons, “Let’s get this mail off.”
Obediently, Herah gripped the edges of her shirt and hauled it overhead. Without thinking, she dropped it into Josephine’s waiting arms.
And nearly sent them both to the floor.
Josephine fumbled under the weight of the armor. Jolting, Herah reached out to help her.
“Sorry! Sorry. Just let me--”
“No! No, I’ve-I’ve got it.” Ducking around Herah’s arm, she somehow managed to place the mail on the growing pile on the floor, a sigh puffing out through her lips when she set it down. “There. Halfway through.” She pressed a hand to Herah’s chest and leant in, finding the laces of her tunic and loosening them.
The gentle touch coaxed a hum from Herah’s throat. Content, she settled her hands onto Josephine’s hips and tucked her face into brunette hair, a soft murmur escaping every time those fingers brushed her skin.
They stood in silence. Once finished with her shirt, Josephine started on the clasps of her chausses, pulling them free just enough for the mail to slide off her hips. It wasn’t the time or the place, but a needy whine echoed in Herah’s throat at the ghosting touch over her thighs. Her own grip tightened, pulling Josephine flush against her body. Always so much smaller than herself, yet the perfect size to wrap up into an embrace.
Josephine shifted in her grasp, leaning up onto the tips of her toes. Herah tilted her head down, but, instead of the kiss she expected, she came face to face with Josephine’s thumb and forefinger, primed and ready to flick her on the nose.
“Stop distracting me.” She giggled at Herah’s wounded look, patting her cheek in false sympathy before returning to half-removed armor.
Herah huffed, but didn’t protest beyond rubbing her reddened nose. When Josephine tugged her shirt free from her trews she shrugged it the rest of the way off, uncaring as it dropped to the floor. Now bereft of almost all clothing save her chest wrappings, trews, and greaves, she retreated to the bed, intent on finally sitting down.
“One moment.” Again Josephine blocked her, this time sidling behind her to turn down the bedsheets. “Alright, now you can--” Herah flopped onto the bed, “-- sit down. Honestly, Herah.” She frowned when Herah burst out into chuckles.
“What in the world are you laughing about?” Tone scolding, she lowered to her knees to remove Herah’s boots.
“Nothing.” Herah sniggered, lifting her feet when prompted. “Just that you never call me by name, unless you’re yelling at me.” Torn between sitting upright, and collapsing onto the bed, Herah soon found the latter to be more comfortable and succumed, her arms stretching overhead as she reclined over the mattress.
A scoff sounded by her feet. “I do not yell!”
“Yes dear.” Laughing at her own stupid joke, Herah wriggled further onto the bed, reaching for the pillows to tuck under her head. She heard no complaints from Josephine and assumed--based on how she could finally feel the smooth fabric of her sheets against her legs-- that she had finished removing her armor. Eyes closed, she heard the whisper of cloth and sighed when a blanket was pulled up to her chin.
Warm lips brushed against her forehead. “Sleep well, my lady.”
Surprised, Herah snagged Josephine’s wrist as she pulled away, eye cracking open just enough for her to see. “You’re not staying?”
“It is still early afternoon. I have a dozen letters to write, three nobles to see around the hold, a contingent of --” Flustered, Josephine stuttered out excuses.
Herah quickly lost track of them. Lashes fluttering shut, she drifted, letting the alto tone lure her into a doze.
“Fine, fine,” she mumbled after a minute, releasing Josephine and wiggling her hand underneath the pillow. “But come back once you’re done? I missed you.” The confession slipped out without her notice, exhaustion stripping Herah of any caution. She didn’t even hear the swift intake of breath that accompanied her request, or feel the caress knuckles against her cheek, sleep claiming her before Josephine could whisper her confirmation.
“Of course, my lady.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The flicker of light behind her eyelids pulled Herah out of the recesses of slumber. She nuzzled into the pillow, ignoring the way her horns caught on the fabric and threatened to rip straight through. After a few more languid moments of dozing, she stretched, a satisfied groan rumbling in her throat as her muscles contracted and joints popped back into place. Sore, but not to a painful degree, Herah rolled this way and that, enjoying the loose feeling in her body.
It wasn’t until she settled that a foreign noise reached her ears. Small scratches, like the gentle tap of nails against wood, echoed from the left corner of her room. Curious, and just a tad wary, Herah cracked open her eyes to stare in the direction it was coming from.
Dwarfed by the massive chair at her desk, Josephine sat surrounded by papers and no small amount of candles. Her focus was entirely on the letter beneath her quill, lips parted and teeth closed around her bottom lip as she added sentence after sentence to the page.
Fascinated, Herah watched in silence. But her observation didn’t go unnoticed for long, as Josephine soon looked up from her work, a smile breaking out onto her face when her gaze met Herah’s.
“You’re awake.”
Herah answered her with a grin. “I hope so. It’s either that, or I’m having an awfully nice dream.” She chuckled at Josephine’s responding titter, rolling to the edge of the bed and sitting up while she composed herself.
“Honestly, the things you say.” Returning to her letter, Josephine added a few more lines, her head ducked to hide her blush in the shadows.
Arms stretched overhead, Herah stood from the bed. She cupped her shoulder with one hand and reached up as high as possible with the other, pushing onto the tips of her toes and twisting this way and that. A pleased sigh fell from her lips and she peeked through her lashes to catch Josephine’s slack-jawed gaze.
She smirked, but refrained from commenting. Instead she sauntered over, veering away from the dresser in the corner and cocking a hip against the desk.
“Work at this hour? Most people would’ve stop for a rest by this point.” She wasn’t unhappy to see Josephine-- far from it-- but her presence was somewhat unusual. Always the dignified ambassador, it seemed out of character for Josephine to come to her private quarters to work, and to remain there while she slept. “Shouldn’t you--”
Raising a finger, Josephine bid her to quiet as she penned the last few words of her letter. With a lavish flourish she signed her name, then reached for the wax seal and stamped it just below. “I really should be reviewing the treaties sent by the Marquis, but they were a little heavy to haul up the stairs and--” She paused, catching Herah’s slightly confused expression.
“--and you are no doubt wondering why I am in your chambers writing letters and not in my own office. Inquisitor, I am so sorry, I never should have assumed this is what you meant.” She trailed off, bolting upright from her seat and gathering the scattered parchment.
Caught off guard, Herah reacted out of instinct and reached out to snag Josephine by the arm before she fled any further. “Woah! Hold on a second.” One long stride took her to the Josephine's side. Ducking her head, Herah crouched to bring herself to eye-level. “What are you talking about?”
Josephine heaved out a breath. Chin tucked into her chest and gaze averted, she murmured-- actually murmured-- and Herah had to lean close to catch even the faintest syllable.
“Sorry, what? I couldn’t hear you.”
“I said,” Josephine glanced up, cheeks flushed red. “That I thought you wished me to return as soon as I was able.”
Herah blinked. She could remember feeling of disappointment when Josephine had pulled away earlier, and the brief thought of asking her to stay, but Josephine couldn’t have known about that unless she had voiced it aloud--
“Oh.” Embarrassment hit hard and Herah backed away, releasing Josephine and scrubbing at the back of her neck. “Um, you’re right. I remember now.” With a sheepish smile she directed her gaze over Josephine’s shoulder, trying not to fidget in place.
They stared around each other for several heartbeats, before Josephine shifted the papers in her arms, a palm covering her mouth only seconds before she started to giggle. Herah fixed her with a mock glare, but it quickly morphed into more of a pout, and then a full on grin, when Josephine only began to laugh harder.
“I swear, we are useless at this.”
Herah snorted and stepped closer. “Or it’s just me. This whole romantic courtship you nobles do is a little hard to keep up with.” She reached out for Josephine’s free hand, thumb brushing against her knuckles as she raised them to her lips.
“A thousand pardons for my crass behavior, Lady Montilyet. I’m afraid your beauty drove all sense of manners from my person.” As foreign as the elaborate words felt on her tongue, Herah would say them a thousand times over for the reaction they earned her. Josephine’s gentle smile, one that lit up her whole face; lips quirking upwards and the skin wrinkling at the edges of bright eyes.
“I think you are playing a marvelous game, Inquisitor.” Josephine whispered, her head tilting slightly to the side. “It’s not often that I find myself at such a lack for words.” She wove their fingers together, giving Herah’s a light squeeze.
Pulling their joined hands to her chest, Herah leaned down. Although she meant to hold Josephine’s gaze, her eyes kept flickering down to her lips. Herah’s parted in anticipation, but she paused when Josephine pushed against her to maintain their distance.
“Herah.” The tenderness with which Josephine said her name took away any hurt she felt at the rejection, and she tilted her head in a silent question.
“With all due respect, my lady, you smell like a stable in dire need of cleaning.” Her fingers wiggled in Herah’s, giving her one last squeeze before pulling away. “And I still have some letters to write.” Even with the dismissive words, Josephine’s expression was playful and Herah chuckled as she retreated towards the stairs.
“As you wish. But I insist on you using my desk for your work.”
“Oh? You do now?”
Herah turned, one foot already on the stone steps. “Yes, I do. I want my welcome-home kiss, Lady Montilyet, and I’d rather not risk some noble snatching you up for some matter or another.” She winked and continued her descent.
“As you say, my la-- Herah wait! Your clothes!”
Bursting out laughing, Herah bolted down the stairs. “You said I was in dire need of cleaning! There’s no time for clothes!” Her longer stride meant she reached door before Josephine was even in sight, a flash of gold and blue appearing at the top of the stairs just as it slammed shut behind her.
She would pay for this later, but at the moment all Herah could think of was how good it was to be home.
--------------
A/n Headcanon that all of Herah's smooth lines come from the books she's borrowed from Cassandra