Title: Radiance
Rating: Teen
Fandom: Dragon Age
Pairing: Josephine/Lace Harding
Summary: Lace finds reasons to give reports to Josephine who is warmth and light.
Notes: 2445. A treat for the Black Emporium Exchange.
Lace is Leliana’s scout, even if the redhead terrifies the scout. So her reports go to Leliana, every single one goes to the spymaster first and is passed on by her.
Usually.
Every so often, Lace finds a reason to pass a report to Lady Montilyet.
It’s usually a very tenuous reason, a thin excuse to see the ambassador and smile at her and enjoy the radiance of the woman. Lace can’t help it though, she’s drawn to her time and time again and as soon as a report has negotiations involved or diplomats or more recently, Antiva, Lace hands in one report to Leliana and a copy to Josephine.
Personally.
At first, she was all stammers and stutters and scarlet red cheeks but she found her footing soon enough and is able to flirt with the other woman even. Just a little. She’s pretty sure Josephine knows these reports are just excuses to see her. She has to, she’s a smart woman as well as beautiful but as yet, neither of them have said anything.
So Lace keeps finding reports to take her way and Josephine accepts them graciously.
“This is very useful thank you, Scout Harding,” Josephine says, looking over the admittedly short report. It’s not much, there isn’t much to tell, just some rumours about Venatori heading north into Antiva but Lace has been about in Emprise Du Lion and being in Josephine’s office, in her orbit, is the warmest Lace has been in weeks.
She shivers just thinking about it.
“Are you cold?”
“Emprise Du Lion is very unforgiving,” she says. “Dwarves aren’t made for the cold.”
“Neither are humans,” Josephine says. “Come and sit by the fire and I shall make us some tea.”
“That’s not necessary Lady Montilyet,” Lace says, leaning towards the fire even as she speaks.
“Tsk, it’s Josephine, and it’s definitely necessary if you are cold.”
She abandons her paperwork and takes Lace by her hand, leading her over to the sofa, urging her over gently knowing the scout isn’t going to resist. Not the warmth of the fire, nor the warmth of Josephine. Lace sits on the sofa, watching every move as Josephine bustles around the room, stoking the fire higher and putting on some water to heat for tea.
“I missed you while you were in Emprise Du Lion,” Josephine admits quietly, glancing at Lace just briefly before fetching the teacups, an ornate matching pot, sugar and milk. Lace isn’t sure where she keeps it all, but she’s warmer now and pleased to be in this woman’s orbit.
Even more pleased to discover the woman missed her.
Her.
“Really?”
Josephine blushes slightly but smiles.
“Yes.” She sets the tea things on the table by the sofa and sits next to Lace, a little too close to be proper probably but not close enough as far as the scout is concerned. “I admit that none of the other scouts include me in their reporting as much as you, but more than that I missed our chats and spending time with you as brief as these meetings are.”
Lace knows she blushing too, but she’s more enamoured by the bright flush on Josephine’s cheeks that she knows has nothing to do with the heat of the fire. It’s too hot now, perhaps and she welcomes it because Maker those mountains were cold. Lace is Ferelden, grew up in the Hinterlands but no Ferelden winter was ever as cold as that.
“I missed you too,” Lace tells her and she’s about to reach out to touch, Maker is she allowed to touch, when the kettle whistles on the fire and Josephine stands.
She colours, frowns but watches as Josephine makes the tea, waiting until she’s sat down again.
Josephine doesn’t ask but makes her tea perfectly. Strong with one sugar and very little milk. She isn’t sure how she knows but the colour alone is just right. It sits next to her cooling and as usual, Lace isn’t sure what to say.
She rarely knows what to say to Josephine. The woman is a world away from Lace and she feels it right now. She thinks she might shiver again, from sadness, but stifles it. They missed each other but so what, Lace thinks. That doesn’t have to mean anything to Josephine. Perhaps she’s lonely or bored but then Lace doubts that.
“Are you warmer now?” she asks. “I must admit I am curious about places like Emprise Du Lion. At least I was until you came back so very cold I suppose.”
Lace laughs.
“I think if I hadn’t trudged up the Frostbacks after Haven it would’ve been more interesting. At least at first. Any mystery or wonder definitely would wear quickly in that cold.”
“Is it very beautiful though. I often find the snow beautiful. From a distance,” she adds. Her voice is a little wistful and Lace wants to lead her up the battlements right at that moment so they can look at the snow or take her out to the grove she found, where it’s green but closed in by the mountains even more than the fortress. She wants to show Josephine everything.
And keep her warm.
“It’s so bright,” Lace says, looking at her smile. She sighs but Josephine doesn’t note it. She sips her tea, hands delicate, moves careful and defined even when drinking. Lace sips too, sighs again because the tea is so good and so warm.
“I’ve heard you can still burn in the sun though?” she asks.
“Several scouts did. It just bounces off the snow,” Lace says. “Is there no snow in Antiva?”
“None, too far North. Our winters are very mild.”
“I think I would like that.”
“You’ve never been?” Lace shakes her head. “We will have to visit one day.”
Both women blush at the implication but neither comment on it and Lace finishes her tea with an audible gulp that has her cringing.
“I should let you get back to work,” she says, jumping to her feet. Josephine follows, slower and placing her cup down gently. “Thank you for the tea and warmth.”
“My pleasure Scout Harding.”
Lace tries to make the same tsk noise as Josephine but doesn’t quite manage it.
“Lace,” she tells her. “It’s Lace.”
On a whim, she stands on her tip-toes and kisses Josephine on the cheek. Thank the Maker for short humans and soft skin she thinks. Josephine is red but smiling as Lace leaves.
There are flowers in her tent.
It’s zipped up and secure still but she knows any one of these scouts could’ve picked the padlock she uses. She knows she can. Still, none of them really have reason so it’s not a problem and she supposes flowers aren’t really a problem either.
She takes her boots off first, shakes the sand out, resisting the temptation to gather them up and discover their secrets, their scent. The sand is everywhere, boots, trousers, hair, underwear. She can’t wait to be out of the Hissing Wastes and as soon as the Inquisitor gets here she’s gone, back to Skyhold and back to Josephine.
Unable to hold back any longer she grabs the card and opens it. Josephine’s penmanship is unmistakable, she recognises it from notes on reports and glimpses of her work while in her office. The flowers are simple but bright; a hardy breed she recognises.
Something that might last the trip home.
The card is simple too. Josephine tells her to be safe and that she misses her once more, signing her name with no declaration, nothing to indicate if these are friendly flowers or more.
Is there such a thing as friendly flowers? Lace isn’t sure but it might be an Antivan thing.
She places the card into her pack, the flowers resting on top. She’ll dry and press a few in a book and keep them. That way she’ll always have them. Until then though, there is a lot more sand to get out of her clothes and body.
Ugh.
She’s managed to rid herself of a lot of it when there is commotion on the edge of the camp and she’s pulling on a fresh shirt in time to hear the Inquisitor’s war nug cry. Her boots are back on and her uniform in place by the time the party reaches the camp and Lace smiles, bantering as usual with Adaar but stepping back from the woman’s flirtations though, her mind on Josephine and the flowers.
“Everything okay Scout?” Adaar asks and she flushes a little.
“Fine, thank you, keen to get home.”
“Missing Skyhold a little much Harding?” Varric asks, “Or a certain somebody?”
Lace frowns. Holds her tongue against the demand to ask him what he knows. Adaar asks instead.
“Our scout here has been seen spending time with the Ambassador,” Dorian says. “Or so I’ve heard.”
“From who?” she blurts.
“From me,” Varric laughs. “Don’t worry about it, Lacy.”
She hates the nickname but decides to get out of the conversation before they ask her more questions or reveal more secrets.
But she has one more question of her own.
“Does Sister Leliana know?”
Of course, she knows, Lace thinks. Their laughs didn’t have to tell her that and her thoughts on the trip back to Skyhold are either about kissing Josephine or being killed by Leliana. She’s pretty sure the spymaster is going to kill her.
She wonders how far she can get with Josephine before that happens. If they might at least share a proper kiss before her inevitable death. Light lips on hers and maybe more, the press of bodies and she knows she’s flushing as they arrive home.
The flowers are pressed in a book that she’s bought as a gift for Josephine. She takes one out and leaves the other tucked into the cover. It’s not a very exciting gift but nothing that can be taken the wrong way she supposes. If the flowers were simply a nice gesture from a friend, then so can the book be. It’s a novel she thought the Ambassador might like, well written, about sea merchants. Lace read it herself on the trip home.
“Lace,” Josephine stands when she sees her. “I had heard you had arrived home, I had hoped to greet you but alas, Leliana required my attention.”
“Sister Leliana,” Lace looks around, mindful of the shadows and Josephine laughs.
“Leliana has departed. A few minutes before. Though I am not surprised you did not see her,” she heads over to the sofa and Lace follows, a tingle down her spine. She’s not sure if that’s fear or anticipation though. She sits down and stops Josephine from fetching the tea things, taking her hand and pulling her down on to the sofa with her. Josephine squeals in surprise and smiles.
“Did you get my flowers?” she asks a little breathless and Lace nods.
“They were lovely. I pressed them so I could keep them,” she tells her, still holding onto her hand and not inclined to let go. “I have something for you.”
“Really?”
Lace pulls the book out from the pockets of her coat and hands it to Josephine.
“You may have read it before but I thought you might like it.”
Josephine runs her fingers over the cover, reading the title before opening it. A pressed flower falls to her lap and she picks it up, smiling. It’s sweet, that smile, and honest and she places the flower back into the book and flicks through the pages.
“Thank you, Lace,” she says. “I’ve not heard of this author but it looks most interesting.”
“I enjoyed it,” she admits, “It’s well -”
Her sentence is cut off by Josephine leaning forward and kissing her on the lips, the book in her hands pressed between them as she does so. Lace kisses back and everything is forgotten, the corners of the book digging into her chest, the threat of Leliana in the shadows in the corner. It’s just Josephine and the way light radiates from her, inside and out. She moans and there is Josephine’s tongue, a slip of her in and out, teasing and tasting of tea and ink.
Lace reaches between them, pulling the book from Josephine’s hands and dropping it carelessly to one side before moving closer to the other woman.
Josephine gasps, the sound travelling between them and Lace wonders if she’s gone too far but then her tongue is back and her arms are around her body. Another little move and she could be in the human’s lap but she holds herself back, kissing her deeply and run her hands up into Josephine’s dark hair.
It’s thick and soft and falls wild around her face as she pulls some of it free from its careful style. Lace pulls back to take a look, smiling at her flushed face and swollen lips. She’s stunning, and Lace leans back towards her, unable to keep away. Everything else is forgotten for a moment and she drops her hands to Josephine’s taking them in her own. They’re so much softer than her own, callouses in different places and so much darker too.
“You’re so beautiful Josephine,” she says softly. “I’ve been thinking about this for a bit now.”
“As have I.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Josephine looks away, goes to pull her hands away but Lace holds fast. She can’t let go now, not yet.
“I was not sure if I should,” she admits. “I am still not but I am unable to contain myself any longer.”
Lace is confused but warmed by her confession. She presses forward for another quick kiss.
“What’s holding you back?”
“My father is currently searching for a husband for me. An engagement could be on the cards any day now.”
“I guess I’m not really marriage material.”
“Don’t be silly, of course you are,” Josephine blushes bright red and Lace wonders if she’s been thinking that far ahead. Lace hasn’t really thought much further than the kissing if she’s honest with herself.
“So now what?” she asks.
“No we deal with the cards we are handed,” she says and she finally goes back to making the tea. Lace misses the warmth of her body, the light of her smiles but it’s okay. She knows how to get it back.
“We should be fine then,” she says, “I saw Commander Cullen after the last game of Wicked Grace.”
Josephine laughs then and Lace knows if she can just keep Leliana from killing her, and Josephine’s father from marrying her off and the world from ending…things will be just fine.