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Herah had spent most of her childhood outside, on the road with her parents as their caravan of mercenaries moved from place to place in the Free Marches. It had been routine to pick up and move somewhere new every few months. Herah had had the safety of the fellow mercenaries by her side and her great sword on her back. She wasn’t used to great walls with gates and keeps, or waking up in the same bed over and over again.
It didn’t help that she was so unprepared for the task of leading the Inquisition. Herah could fight, was born to fight, even, but leading an army was different. So was talking to fussy nobles.
Herah had never had to talk the nobles back home. She was too blunt to soothe their egos and too impatient to negotiate the right price, so no one had ever bothered to bring her along when the group wrangled a new contract. The first time she had ever talked to a noble had been the grumpy man who claimed to own Haven. That hadn’t gone well, and every subsequent interaction with the nobility – particularly the Orlesian nobility – had been a nightmare. Culminating in a particularly godawful moment two days ago where Herah had been presented with three sets of heraldry and asked to choose the most beautiful one. Frustrated, exhausted, and just back from the Fallow Mire, Herah had snapped that they all looked the same.
If they had been minor nobles, it might have been funny. Unfortunately, they were all major players in the Great Game with major stakes in the Inquisition. To make matters worse, the three men were all in the midst of a blood feud that spanned generations.
Herah wouldn’t have cared – these nobles that simpered in front of her and called her an oxwoman behind her back could go to the Void for all she cared – but it took Josephine three days to sort out her mistake.
It was extra work that Josephine just didn’t deserve. Herah tried to swallow her guilt and do better, but she didn’t know how. She could take any sword apart and re-forge it to make it a hundred times stronger. She could fight with ten different kinds of weapons as easily as she could breathe. She could even keep up with Cullen, both in strategy and in the administration of a massive force like the Inquisition if she had to. She was competent. She was smart. But diplomacy? Herah knew how to fight. She didn’t know how to talk.
She’d been complaining bitterly to Varric, when he’d gotten a shrewd look in his eye and said, “We should give you lessons.”
That pulled Herah up short. “Lessons?”
Varric leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of his face. “Well, yeah. You had to learn how to use a sword, didn’t you?”
Herah nodded slowly.
“So, we teach you how to talk to fussy nobles. “ At Herah’s doubting look, Varric continued, “If we threw green recruits into a battle without teaching them how to swing their fucking swords first, they’d get slaughtered. Right?”
Herah nodded a little more firmly.
“It’s what your advisors did to you. They probably didn’t mean to, but they didn’t bother to check if you knew how to talk to nobles before sticking you in front of them. That and I think they’ve forgotten that you’re Tal Vashoth.”
“How lucky for them,” Herah sighed. “I don’t think you can make this better, Varric.”
Varric refilled her tankard. “Are you willing to try?” he asked softly.
Herah fiddled with her tankard. “Yeah. I don’t think I can make this any worse.”
Varric laughed. “There’s that positive attitude that has armies following you into battle.”
Herah drank the last of his tankard in retaliation.
Varric had clearly talked to someone, because the next day she received a letter inviting her to heraldry lessons in the library. Herah arrived to find Vivienne waiting for her, resplendent on a chaise lounge that she’d had some poor servant drag into the library for her.
Herah fled to the tavern after less than an hour.
Varric found her licking her wounds that evening next to the Chargers in the tavern, tankard clasped between her hunched shoulders.
“I’m not going back.” Herah told him as he sat down next to her.
She pretended she didn’t see the look that Varric and Bull shared around her hunched shoulder.
“Maybe what you need is a different teacher,” Bull said after a moment.
“No.”
“I think Tiny might be on to something here,” Varric said. He leaned against Herah’s shoulder. “Don’t you want to stop having avoidable trouble with the nobles? Maybe make the lovely Lady Montilyet’s job a little easier?”
Herah turned pink. She’d thought that she had hidden her crush better than that.
“Don’t worry, Boss. We won’t tell a soul,” Bull laughed.
“Fine,” Herah sighed. Then, in a moment of petty childishness, she added, “By the way, Bull, how’s Dorian?”
Bull spluttered. Herah took that to mean things were going well.
She was with Cullen, Cassandra, and Leliana two days later, buried in troop movements and spy reports, when a courier rapped sharply at the door. “Your worship,” he said after he gained her attention,“Lady Montilyet will be pleased to see you this evening for your heraldry lessons.”
Mind still full of war plans, Herah grunted an affirmative and sent the young woman on her way. It wasn’t until much later, when Herah was scarfing down a cold dinner that she realized she was to be put in a room, by herself, with Josephine.
Herah groaned, sinking onto a nearby chair. She was going to make an ass out of herself tonight. She just knew it.
If the nobles were Herah’s first problem as Inquisitor, Josephine Montilyet was the second. Or, rather, the problem was that Herah was madly in love with Josephine Montilyet.
If Herah was bad at talking to nobles, she was worse at talking to people she was attracted to. She either said nothing or she said too much. The one time she had tried to tell another woman how she felt, she’d wound up having her entire caravan banned from Kirkwall. In hindsight, though, that might’ve been a good thing.
She’d tried to not get too attached to any one member of the Inquisition. But how could anyone look at Josephine and not fall madly in love? The woman was too smart, too kind, and too beautiful to go unnoticed for long. She cared for all members of the Inquisition, regardless of title, rank, or race. She had thrown herself into helping as many as she could during the march from Haven to Skyhold, bandaging the wounded, tending to the animals, pitching tents, and even hauling goods through the heavy snow drifts. She’d worked until her hands bled, and then she’d kept on working.
Herah had never seen anything like it. She’d been impressed, but still waiting for the moment when the highborn lady would tire of slumming it. But that moment never came.
Then, one morning, halfway to Skyhold, Herah had gotten up early to help the soldiers begin breaking down the camp and found Josephine quietly ladling out soup. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun and she was swaddled in a fur coat that Herah had scavenged for her a few days before. She was trading silly stories with two children from Haven with a huge grin on her face. Soon they were giggling helplessly together. Dawn had just broken over the tops of the mountains, haloing Josephine’s smiling face in sunshine. It was one of the most wonderful things Herah had ever seen.
From then on, Herah had eyes for no one but Josephine.
Reminiscing on how she’d fallen in love with Josephine did very little to solve the problem at hand, however. Herah was still criminally bad at talking to people she was attracted to. But she needed these lessons on etiquette desperately, especially if she was to have any chance of success at Halamshiral. More than anything though, Herah just wanted to spend some time with Josephine and not embarrass herself.
Somehow, Herah managed to not embarrass herself.
The lesson went well, for all that Herah still couldn’t tell the difference between any of the Orlesian noble families. She now knew how to not embarrass the Inquisition with her ignorance, though, and that was something.
Besides, Josephine was smiling at the end of the lesson, so Herah had to believe that she had done well. Herah was having a hard time looking away from Josephine’s smile, or the lovely way that the firelight made her glow, though. To make matters worse, Josephine had shrugged out of her doublet and heavy golden necklace sometime during their lesson, leaving her in just a well-cut tunic.
In the fading light of the evening, next to the warmth of the fire, with Josephine warm and relaxed and happy next to her, Herah couldn’t help but envision a future that could never be. A future with fireside chats like this one, but instead of in an office, it would be inside Herah’s chambers at Skyhold or Josephine’s manor back in Antiva. They would have golden bands on their ring fingers and maybe even a few children playing on the rug by the fire. But that was something that could never happen. Herah was a Tal Vashoth mercenary and Josephine a lady of high standing in both the Antivan and Orlesian courts.
Herah forced her eyes away from the warmth in Josephine’s smile. She’d been staring too long, and she would say something stupid if Josephine pressed her right now.
They ended their time together shortly thereafter. Josephine saw Herah to the door and they parted ways with a quiet goodbye. If Herah felt Josephine’s hand linger on her arm, it was just a trick of the mind.
Two days later, another courier appeared quietly at Herah’s elbow. “Lady Montilyet is available to meet with you tomorrow evening, Your Worship.”
“Tell Josephine that I look forward to it,” Herah replied, and that was the honest truth. Herah really was looking forward to seeing Josephine again. She was feeling less afraid of saying something wrong. Herah still might make an ass out of herself, of course, but it felt a little less like the end of the world.
The vision of Josephine, warm and fire-kissed at the end of their last lesson, brought Herah up short, though. Herah had known she had feelings for the other woman for a while now. She’d known, but she hadn’t known how deep they went apparently.
Perhaps, friendship would be enough. No, there was no perhaps. Friendship would be enough for Herah. Josephine was good and lovely and wonderful in a way that Herah had never known before. Her friendship would be more than enough. Herah would be damned if she treated a friendship with Josephine like anything less than the gift it was.
Herah knocked on Josephine’s door the next evening with a tray in hand. She’d been down in the kitchens, bothering the cook until she could get the cantankerous woman to give her some of the Antivan tea cookies that Josephine loved so much. In her other hand, Herah carried a steeping tea pot of some of Josephine’s favorite tea.
When Josephine opened the door, she looked exhausted. Her usual up-do was disheveled, long strands of hair framing her face, and her eyes were red rimmed.
Seeing Herah’s concerned look, Josephine fussed with her hair, trying to twist it back up into some kind of order. “Forgive me, Inquisitor, the day was far more trying than I had originally planned for.”
“No, no,” Herah said. “You look lovely. You always look lovely.”
At Josephine’s shocked look, Herah’s brain caught up with her mouth. If she could have punched herself in the face without sacrificing either the tea or the cookies, she would have. She’d been doing so well, and now she’d gone and fucked it up again like she always did. Josephine would purse her lips and turn away like all the other women had and—
And Josephine blushed, ducking her head to try and hide her smile. No one had ever reacted like that before when Herah had said something stupid.
“I’m sorry, Josephine,” Herah said, trying to meet Josephine eyes which were still downcast, “I didn’t mean to offend—“
Josephine’s eyes snapped up in surprise. “You didn’t offend me, Inquisitor! I was merely surprised, that is all. It has been quite awhile since someone has succeed in making me blush.”
Herah’s brain ground to a halt. Where was she supposed to go with this? Was she supposed to even go anywhere? Varric would know. She would have to ask him later.
Desperate to say something, Herah raised her hand carrying the teapot. “I brought tea, if that pleases you as well?”
Josephine was thrilled with the tea and the cookies. She was so excited that she forgot her courtly manners for a few moments and dunked her cookies in her tea. She was mortified immediately thereafter, but Herah couldn’t help but beam. It meant the world to her that she’d made Josephine feel comfortable to drop her shield of etiquette, even for just a moment.
They started on the lesson shortly after that, Josephine explaining and re-explaining the differences between each noble family’s heraldry. Josephine explained the differences between the symbols again and again, never growing impatient or cross with Herah’s inability to comprehend even the basics of what Josephine was trying to teach her. Herah couldn’t help but feel like she was failing, though.
On her sixth failure to match the noble houses to their heraldries, Herah stood up from the table and walked to the window, nearly knocking her chair over in the process.
“Perhaps we should take a break, Inquisitor?” Josephine said. Herah didn’t need to turn around that Josephine would be watching her with kind, soft eyes, her hand softly outstretched to coax Herah back to the table. What had Herah ever done to deserve to have this woman in her life?
“I’m sorry I’m failing you,” Herah said, turning back around to face Josephine.
“You’re not failing us, Inquisitor,” Josephine said, hand outstretched exactly like Herah had imagined. “What you are doing is no easy task. Noble children learn this from birth because it takes years to master. You would not expect me to become a sword master in a day, would you?”
“Yes,” Herah’s mouth said before her brain could catch up, again, “I would. You could master anything you set your mind to in a day.”
Josephine cheeks turned bright pink. “Inquisitor,” she laughed, “I think you give me far too much credit.”
Herah shook her head. “I think the world doesn’t give you enough.”
Josephine gave Herah that soft smile from the night by the fire that made Herah think of rings and home and forever. “Come back. Maybe we can try something different.”
Herah sat back down. “I want to get this right. I want to do well for you – and for the Inquisition,” Herah hurried to add, desperate to not say something that would ruin this warmth between her and Josephine, that would take away that smile on Josephine’s face.
Josephine laid her hand on Herah’s forearm. “You are getting this right. You are doing well. Your job is to seal the rifts and defeat Corypheus. Diplomacy, negotiation, that is why I am here, Inquisitor.”
“But I should be able to help you! You deserve to have someone who wants to help you,” Herah said, eyes fixed on where Josephine’s hand rested on Herah’s arm.
Josephine rubbed her hand up and down Herah’s arm in a soothing manner. “Maybe we cannot teach you to be a shark.” Herah’s heart sank. She’d tried so hard, though. She didn’t want to give up.
Josephine’s head titled to the side, her eyes getting that faraway look that only appeared right before she was about to spring a verbal trap on some unsuspecting noble. “But maybe we can teach you to swim among them,” she said.
“I’m willing,” Herah said, covering Josephine’s hand with her own. Herah didn’t realize she’s done it until Josephine’s hand turned to clasp Herah’s.
“As am I, Inquisitor. But not tonight.” At Herah’s questioning look, Josephine added with a girlish smile, “You brought me polvorones. I intend to finish them.”
Herah was called away to the Hissing Wastes the next day, but she felt the warmth of Josephine’s hand on hers the entire time she was gone.
Herah’s lessons with Josephine continued. As time passed, they became less formal until they stopped being lessons at all. Herah simply found herself at Josephine’s office, tea and cookies in hand, and they spent the evening together. Sometimes they made plans for future negotiations and diplomatic positioning amongst the nobles. Other times, Josephine shed her heavy doublet and they simply spent the evening by the fire, swapping stories and gossip. Those were some of the best nights of Herah’s life to date. If she spent too long staring at Josephine, soft and warm by the fire, Josephine never scolded her for it.
Then they found out that the House of Repose had a contract on Josephine’s life. Herah damn near killed the bastard they sent to speak with Josephine. Josephine’s hand on her arm was the only thing that stopped the man from being a bloody smear on the floor.
Then Josephine became consumed with raising the DuParaquets in order to break the contract. Herah was more than tempted to let Leliana send one of her people to deal with the House of Repose, but Josephine had been insistent that they do things the diplomatic way. Herah had lost her ability to say no to Josephine long ago, so they began the arduous process of trading favors for Josephine’s safety.
The assassination attempt against Josephine in Skyhold damn near broke Herah’s resolve to not use Leliana’s methods, but she had promised Josephine. Herah did spend the next month following Josephine around Skyhold, though. For the most part, Josephine didn’t seem to mind that the Inquisitor had become her personal bodyguard.
In the end, Josephine was triumphant, and that was the only thing that mattered to Herah.
Herah was in Val Royeaux when she found the little boat that changed everything. Shortly after returning from Val Royeaux, and with the House of Repose’s contract firmly broken, Josephine had told Herah of the fall of the original house of Montilyet.
Josephine was curled up on the window seat in Herah’s quarters, watching the sunset. “We lost everything. Our properties, our fleet, even our crest was a victim to the Great Game.” Josephine met Herah’s eyes briefly and gave her a tight smile. “You must think me silly, wishing for more when I already have so much.”
Herah was quiet for a moment. “It’s not about the gold, though, is it? It’s about knowing where you came from. I think I understand what it means to not have that. Maybe more than most.” Herah reached out and touched her hand briefly. Josephine’s hand was soft and warm under hers. Sometimes Herah wished her hands were less rough when she touched Josephine.
“Thank you, Inquisitor. I just wish that I could have seen our old crest at least once. Everything was either destroyed or sold when we fled back to Antiva. It would be nice to have at least a piece of my family’s history.”
And here it was, after months of searching, Herah had stumbled upon a piece of the first iteration of House Montilyet. The crest looked right, and the inscription beneath it matched the family motto that Josephine had told her.
“From sea to shore, we tame the waves. Bit stuffy, innit?”
Sera appeared next to Herah. “I thought you hated that noble shite?”
The Orlesian merchant who manned the store they were in gave a deeply offended sniff. Sera blew the man a raspberry.
“It’s for Josephine,” Herah said.
“Ooooooh. How is your lady love?” Sera asked.
“She’s not –,“ Herah swallowed. “She’s not my lady love.”
“So you two spend a bunch of time together and look deep into each other’s eyes a lot, but she’s not your lady love?” Sera asked, taking the boat from Herah’s hands.
“Josephine doesn’t…”Herah trailed off.
“Josephine does,” Sera said firmly. “This is a nice boat. Bit stuffy, but Josephine likes things a little stuffy sometimes.” Sera fixed Herah with a firm look. “But you should stop being stuffy or she’ll think you’re not interested.” Sera handed the boat back to Herah.
“You think so?” Herah asked softly.
“Mh-hm.” Sera nodded, then turned to the merchant. “Oi, fancy breeches! The Inquisitor wants to buy your little boat!”
Herah kept the boat to herself for a week. It sat on her desk, a constant little reminder of her conversation with Sera. A conversation she had no idea what to do with. The longing had become a constant. It had been set in stone that Josephine would never be hers. Now that it wasn’t, now that she had the possibility of something more with Josephine, she was completely paralyzed.
At the end of the eighth day, Herah gave up and went to Varric.
She found him huddled in a corner of the Herald’s Rest, whispering furiously back and forth with Bull.
Herah thought about asking what they were doing, and then decided she’d be better off not knowing. Plausible deniability was a good thing to have.
The two men immediately broke off whatever conversation they were having when she sat down. “I bought Josephine a boat.”
“A boat?” Bull repeated.
“I think she has a couple of those already, Boss,” Varric added.
“Not a big boat,” Herah clarified. “A little boat.”
“A little boat?” both men asked at the same time.
Herah nodded. “It has her old family crest on it.”
“Oh,” Bull said.
“Oh, indeed, Tiny,” Varric said.
“How do I give it to her?” Herah asked in a small voice, staring down into her ale.
Varric touched her hand and tipped his head down a little to catch her eyes. “We’ll figure something out, Herah.”
So she, Varric, and Bull hatched a plan. Well, she and Varric hatched a plan. Bull gave the occasional headshake when he thought they were going too far. They drafted a speech, decided where Herah would give the gift to Josephine, and on and on. Herah had a plan.
The plan fell to pieces.
It was like that first lesson all those months ago, where Herah had stood outside of Josephine’s office all weak and shaky, except this was a thousand times worse because now Herah actually had something to lose. If this went badly, if Josephine found her too forward, too Tal Vashoth, like all the other women had, it could mean the end of their friendship. Was that something worse losing? Josephine’s friendship was a wonderful thing to have. Was she being selfish in asking for more?
Then Josephine opened her office door and the decision was taken out of Herah’s hands.
“Inquisitor! I thought that was you outside,” Josephine said, smiling. “What are you doing just standing out there? Come in, come in.”
“I have something for you,” Herah said, with a quake in her voice and her plans in tatters.
“Oh dear. Treaty or trade negotiations?” Josephine asked, but her smile was playful.
“No!” Herah burst out. Josephine blinked at her. At a slightly lower volume, Herah continued, “It’s a gift. I found it in Val Royeaux. I hope you like it.”
Herah handed Josephine the box she had clumsily wrapped the night before.
“Oh my! You shouldn’t have,” Josephine said. She scurried to her desk all the same, though, the package clasped to her chest. “Is it some of those lovely bath salts from Madame Bordeaux’s boutique? I do so love those.”
“I – well, go ahead and open it. You’ll see,” Herah said, heart in her throat.
Josephine settled at her desk and began unwrapping the present. It took all of Herah’s willpower not to beg her to hurry. Then Josephine stopped, fixing Herah with a look.
“Are you alright, Inquisitor? You look a little pale…and sweaty,” Josephine said, still staring at Herah.
“I just hope you like it,” Herah said helplessly.
Josephine began to painstakingly unwrap the present again. “You know, you didn’t need to get me anything. You – your friendship – means so much to me. It has been an honor and privilege to serve you – and the Inquisition, of course,” Josephine said. She’d finally reached the box. Herah watched as Josephine opened the lid. Time seemed to have stilled, like in the moment before an enemy landed their blow in battle. Herah forced herself to breathe.
Josephine opened the box, and then let out a small gasp. She took out the little boat, cradling it in her hands. She said nothing.
Herah forced herself to swallow. “Do you like it?”
“Inquisitor – I – this is – how did you –“ Josephine forced herself to stop talking. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I had never thought I would see this. It is what I think it is, isn’t it? The motto…” Josephine trailed off.
“Yes. It’s –yes. I found it in Val Royeaux. I thought you might like it, so I brought it back with me. You do like it, don’t you?” Herah realized she had moved closer to Josephine when her thighs bumped against Josephine’s desk. She hastily took a step back.
“Of course I love it,” Josephine breathed, still unable to tear her eyes away from the boat. “But, this was no simple thing to find, Inquisitor. You must have had to search for this. I spent years trying to find something bearing our old family crest.” Josephine finally looked up at Herah. “Inquisitor – “
“It was no trouble, Josephine,” Herah interrupted, her tone soft but firm. “Your happiness is reward enough. You’ve done so much for the Inquisition, for me, how could I not do this for you?”
“But you went to so much trouble!” Josephine said, standing and moving towards Herah. Herah barely managed to stop herself from fleeing to the other side of the room. She’d started this. She had to finish it.
Josephine came to stand in front of Herah. “Why would you do this for me?” Josephine asked, the small boat still in her hands.
Herah met Josephine’s eyes. “Because I love you.”
Josephine’s body swayed towards Herah. “You--?” she gasped.
“Yes,” Herah said, brushing a stray hair from Josephine’s face.
Josephine pulled away and Herah’s heart sank. Herah didn’t follow as Josephine walked back to her desk, placing the little boat on the desk with great care. Herah noticed that her hands were shaking.
Josephine then turned around and strode back to Herah. She stared into Herah’s eyes determinedly.
“Do you mean it?” she asked.
“That I love you?” Herah breathed. “Of course. Why would I lie?”
Josephine closed the distance between them. “You do. You really mean it,” Josephine laughed.
Herah nodded, unsure of what Josephine’s reaction meant.
“Oh, good,” Josephine laughed again. Then, she kissed Herah.
It was like nothing Herah had ever experienced.
Josephine kissed fast and hard. Herah found herself pressing closer to the other woman, until they were nearly fused together from head to foot. Somehow, Herah had wrapped her arms around Josephine and now Josephine was gripping Herah’s biceps, pulling Herah closer to her. The kiss was deepening, becoming hot and wet in a way that Herah had never expected from Josephine. Herah turned Josephine towards the wall and pushed her against it, pulling her upwards until Josephine had wrapped her legs around Herah’s waist.
Suddenly, Josephine placed her hand on Herah’s chest and gave a gentle push. Herah pulled away from the kiss like she’d been burned.
“I’m sorry,” Herah began only to be shushed by Josephine.
“Hush, there is nothing to be sorry about,” Josephine said. She was smiling that smile that Herah so adored. Her face was flushed from the kiss and she was so beautiful that Herah could have died at that very moment a happy woman.
“It is only that I think we have progressed a little further than I meant us to,” Josephine continued, looking not a bit regretful.
“Then you’re okay with—“ Herah began.
“I kissed you first,” Josephine countered.
“Can I still hold you?” Herah asked, unwilling to unwind her arms from around Josephine just yet.
“Of course,” Josephine said, eyes soft and so very happy. “I just happen to have a lovely couch upstairs that is far more comfortable than this wall.”
In response, Herah hoisted Josephine a little higher around her waist, and then began walking up the stairs that led to Josephine’s private quarters. Josephine giggled the entire way.
They spent a quiet night together full of soft kisses. They lay curled around one another, Herah unable to tear her eyes away from Josephine in the firelight and Josephine unable to pull herself away from Herah’s warm embrace. It was a night that would become one of many for many, many years to come.