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Herah Adaar sighed tiredly as she sat back in her chair, feeling exhausted.
Her arm was sore, her back hurt, and the last thing she wanted to deal with right then were letters she had been receiving ever since the Inquisition had been disbanded.
A few months had passed since then, and yet, the amount of letters addressed to the Inquisitor hadn’t diminished. Requests for counsel, for support and resources, invitations to balls; Herah wanted to ignore all of them, especially since many of the senders did not react well when Herah informed them that due to no longer being the Inquisitor, her opinions didn’t matter anymore. Yet, many people still felt entitled to her time, which was infuriating, because the same people who were now insulted by her answers clearly hadn’t cared this much about her words when the Inquisition had needed their support in the past.
As she looked at the pile of letters she’d received from one of the Bull’s Chargers’ runners, she rubbed the bridge of her nose, wondering if she could burn all of the papers right then and there. In times like these she wished Josephine were travelling with them, because then Herah would be able to ask her friend to reply to all of the irritating letters on her behalf. Or at least ask for suggestions about how to answer them in the most politely passive aggressive way possible.
After the Inquisition had been disbanded, and after Herah had talked to her friends about their plans for the future, she’d decided to join the Bull’s Chargers in their travels. Dealing with the Viddathari, as well as with the implications of Solas’ actions, had left her feeling numb and exhausted, but working with the Chargers, with her friends, provided her with much needed distraction.
Not to mention the fact that travelling with the Chargers also meant travelling with Cremisius Aclassi and Lace Harding, the two people Herah cared for the most. They could finally be together, without people judging them at every turn, or talking behind their backs.
Despite how much time had passed since the Exalted Council had been called, Herah still had a difficult time getting used to all of the changes that took place afterwards. Not being the Inquisitor anymore being one of them. Learning how to use a staff all over again was quite a challenge as well, especially since she had to acquire a custom made staff that was balanced in a way that was still unfamiliar. It was frustrating and painful, and every time one of the Chargers had to swoop in to save her while she was getting used to her new weapon, she not only felt like a hinderance, but also a danger to herself and others.
Some days were better than the others, of course, but looked like today was one of these bad days.
Earlier that day, while training with Dalish and a couple of new members of the Bull’s Chargers, Herah had been distracted by pain in her back and shoulders. Training usually managed to take her mind off of pain and frustration, but it clearly hadn’t worked that time, and as a consequence one of the new recruits had been hurt, making Herah feel even worse than she already did. It hadn’t helped that the recruit kept insisting that she was fine, Herah had had spent quite a while making sure the other woman hadn’t just been trying to impress them by downplaying her injuries.
Now the mage was sitting in her room, trying not to think about the whole incident.
She was frustrated, she was in pain, and the urge to throw a fireball at her desk was getting stronger and stronger.
“You are aware that you don’t have to answer any letters if you really don’t want to, right?”
Herah turned her head to see Lace Harding leaning against the doorframe, holding a tankard in one hand. The way her hair was curling around her ears, how the gloves Herah had given her looked on her, how gentle her smile was; all of it made the mage close her eyes as she leaned back against the chair with a sigh.
Then she heard the sound of a tankard being placed on the desk, before Lace caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, which was what made Herah open her eyes.
“All of this can wait,” Lace said, thumb caressing Herah’s knuckles. “You could use some rest. Come on.”
Lace, still holding Herah’s hand, led the mage to a large bed they shared with Krem.
Lace herded her into bed, and as soon as Herah settled in the middle of it, the rogue laid down next to her and pillowed her head on Herah’s shoulder.
As Herah breathed in Lace’s scent, fruity and spicy at the same time, she closed her eyes once more. It wasn’t difficult to let herself relax when Lace started running one hand up and down Herah’s shoulder, and as she focused on the feeling of the other woman’s fingers on her skin, the mage quickly found herself falling asleep.
When she woke up it was already dark outside. Lace’s head was still pillowed on her shoulder, but that was not the only thing that she noticed.
Krem was sitting next to her, back against the headboard, clearly focused on whatever he was reading. He was wearing a loose, dark shirt that Herah really liked on him, and he looked so soft and relaxed that Herah couldn’t help smiling as she watched him read.
“Is Bull giving you homework now?”
“It’s just something Grim asked me to look at,” Krem told her, before putting all of the papers on the nightstand. Laying down with one hand under his head, he looked at Herah with a smile on his face. “I think you should get more rest, Your Worship. Trapper says she wants revenge.”
Herah winced at the comment. “I’ll talk to her, I promise. I honestly don’t know what happened. One second, I’m showing everyone how to dodge simple spells, and in another…”
She didn’t get to finish the sentence, because Krem bent down to press his lips to hers.
“Everyone is fine,” he said against her lips. “It was an accident. You don’t even know how many times me and the others accidentally hurt each other while training. It happens all the time.”
“I am… I was… the Inquisitor. I should have known better. I should have controlled myself better. I don’t know what’s happening, Krem,” she looked at her left arm, frowning. “I’m exhausted. My arm and my back hurt. And also the damned letters. Everyone wants something from me, and they don’t care about what I think about it, and… it’s just too much.”
“You can burn all of these letters, you know,” Lace murmured, making Herah turn her head to look at her. The rogue yawned briefly, before continuing. “Or just give them to someone, let them deal with it. You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, and so is Krem. We’ll always help you.”
“I don’t want to burden you with all of this.”
“You’re not,” Krem said, nudging his head against Herah’s. “We’re a team. You, me, Lace. The Chargers. We went through a lot, and you did, too. We can talk to the Chief, take a break, just travel and enjoy ourselves. And I can ask Grim to deal with the letters when I see him next. He has a way with words, you know. He’s good at telling people to mind their own business.”
“Only if he doesn’t mind,” Herah pressed her face against Krem’s shoulder. “Travelling with the Chargers helps, a lot. I don’t have to think about what to do or where to go next, it’s nice. I just… I just don’t know what to do.”
“We can figure it out together,” Lace smiled, pressing her lips to Herah’s shoulder, fingers travelling to the mage’s waist and settling there.
“Yes. Yes, please.”
As Herah got lost in her lovers’ touches, in their gentle words and reassurances, she felt like she could breathe again. She would still have bad days, she was aware of that, and getting used to her new reality would take a lot more time, but, fortunately, Krem and Lace, as well as the other Chargers, were there by her side, supporting her. That was everything she needed.