Evelyn sat in her usual spot in the tavern cradling her glass of wine and staring into the fire. Varric, Bull, Dorian, and Blackwall sat close by drinking and playing Wicked Grace, with Cole watching.
"An ancient courtyard made of jet stone. They've built a pyre there. Can't move, can't run. Andraste burned, and so shall her Herald. She remembers; it hurt so much. But it hasn't happened yet."
"Andraste's tits Kid, that's the creepiest thing you've ever said," Varric said, shuddering.
"What do you mean she remembers but it hasn't happened yet?" asks Bull.
"That sounds like Minrathous. Could it be some kind of premonition perhaps?" offers Dorian. "Evelyn?"
"Hey Sweetheart, what you thinking about?"
Evelyn starts, "Sorry Varric, what were you asking?"
"We were just wondering what you were so engrossed in over there Sweetheart?"
"Nothing, just getting lost watching the flames."
Author's notes: Just a little drabble I wrote thinking about what happens to Heralds and prophets once they have achieved what they were sent to do. There are parallels between Andraste and Joan of Arc which I thought were interesting. There are also some interesting tidbits about Andraste going into trance-like states so why not for her Herald.