AN: I actually wrote this ... a while back, and was going to continue the chapter, but this sort of sits nicely by itself. Apologies for the absolute lack of updates, Uni has devoured my life.
Disclaimer:
I own nothing you recognise. This is all completely un-beta'd and totally fresh off the top of my brain!
She rides out two mornings hence with the mages. They return, exhausted beyond words and triumphant, the sky no longer torn and green. The Herald dismounts, her mount taken away, and welcomed into the warmth of the Chantry for debrief.
The debrief doesn't last long before they break for the tavern. The Herald is in a wonderful mood, teeth flashing with laughter and walk loose and easy. She chats animatedly to Leliana, hands waving as they walk. He's never seen her so at ease, her cheeks flushed with good humour.
Josie notices him watching and elbows him in the side, which does little around his plate. He brushes her off with a half-grin, and then they're in the tavern, surrounded by lights and laughter and Varric telling the tale of how the Herald of Andraste toyed with, then leapt onto the ogre's back and thrust her daggers through its thick skull before closing the rift with a certain panache that always seemed to appear in Varric's retellings.
The Herald laughs into her mug of ale, penned as she is between Cullen's armour and Josie's silks and unable to escape. She glows in the firelight, hair a frolicking halo about her head. Short cropped white blonde contrasts with sunkissed skin.
Then the alarm sounds.
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