Dragon Age Fic: Corrections – Josephine/M!Inquisitor (NC-17) 2/?

[anxiousgeek.livejournal.com]

Title: Corrections
Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition
Rating: Adult
Character/Pairing: Josephine/M!Inquisitor
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Smut, romance, angst, fluff.
Summary: Josephine and Maxwell Travelyan met for the first time at Lady Trevelyan’s summer ball when they were young adults. Now, a decade later and Max is the Herald and Josephine his Ambassador.
Notes: Another Dragon Age Kink Meme prompt with a life of it’s own.  A WIP. Damn these prompts.

Welcome To Haven

Josephine nearly tripped over when she saw who Cassandra and Cullen had brought back to the village. He had been limp in their arms when they’d carried him into the little house, a dozen people immediately surrounding him and she had kept her distance as the healers and Solas made sure he was alive and would live this time.

So when things calmed down she went along to check on the young man herself – said to be a young noble from Ostwick.

She never expected it to be Maxwell Trevelyan.

Maker, but it was him, pale, his hand glowing green and his hair much shorter but him.

“Lady Montilyet?” Adan said, setting a potion down.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” she asked, skittering away from the bed.

“Not at all,” he said.

“Will he be okay?” she asked, taking a step closer once more.

“He’ll be fine,” he said curtly, applying another poultice to the man’s forehead. “He should wake up naturally, and soon, and I should be able to attend to my other duties.”

“We all appreciate your dedication to your patients Adan.”

He grumbled something in reply before leaving again, and Josephine moved to look at him a little more closely. The young man was definitely still there, but older now, a few more lines and a couple of scars. She wondered what he had been doing since she had last seen him, a decade had been by and she hadn’t seen him hadn’t been back to the Trevelyan’s estate since that night. She hadn’t even thought about him for years.

Here he was, a sign from the Maker, their only hope to saving the world.

Josephine wasn’t sure how she felt about it, but then, she only knew the young man with the cocky grin.

She was in the War Room they had set up in the back of the Chantry with Cullen and Leliana, discussing the change in the sky and what else they needed to do first when Cassandra walked in being Maxwell Trevelyan with her. Josephine smiled at him, remaining behind the massive table, amused at the shocked looked on his face as he turned to look at her as Cassandra introduced them.

“Josie!”

“Josephine,” she corrected making him smile, that same crooked grin she remembered gracing his features. “Your Herald.”

“You two are acquainted?” Cassandra asked.

“Inti-” Maxwell started.

“Yes!” Josephine said over him, knowing what he was about to say, frowning.

“We met at one of my mother’s summer balls.”

“A long time ago,” Josephine added. Leliana was grinning at her, and the ambassador fought the urge to groan – her friend had already figured everything out. Even Cullen had a slight curve to his lips.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, seeing he was still pale.

“I’m well – I mean, relatively speaking of course.”

She smiled, he was fine.

“I will write a letter to your family, let them know what has happened,” she told him. “Your mother will be worried.”

“Thank you,” he said with a slight bow. “I appreciate that.”

He looked her over, and she felt a blush at his scrutiny. He hadn’t changed she realised and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She had liked that cocky young man but things were different now, things were serious. She was different now.

“Perhaps we can catch up later,” she said, looking to Cassandra next him, her starting to scrunch a little.

“I’d like that,” he said with a softer smile she hadn’t seen on him when he was a young man. She smiled back and turned the meeting back to the matter in hand – the end of the world.

x

There wasn’t much room in Haven for privacy. She shared a room with Leliana and Minaeve, who she also shared the little hallway she called an office. It was enough, though she missed her private offices in the embassy sometimes.

“Nice office,” Maxwell said, walking in and looking around. “Not where I expected to find you though Josie.” He pulled his great sword from his back and sat on the edge of her desk, looking her over again.

“Josephine,” she corrected, making him smile. “Herald.”

“Max,” he said, with a grin. “What are you doing here Josie?”

She looked over at Minaeve who was talking to another young mage, the two of them consulting something in a book.

“Sister Leliana asked me to join the inquisition as it’s lead diplomat.”

“You believe in all this Herald of Andraste crap?” he asked.

“I believe in stopping the war and saving the world,” she told him, aware that Minaeve and the other scholar were paying attention now.

He frowned.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here Josie,” he said, quietly and she had never seen him look like that before.

Young.

She didn’t even correct the use of her nickname this time, and instead stood up, leaving her work on the desk.

“Come with me,” she said softly.

He placed his sword on his back and followed her out of the chantry and into the little house he had been given as his own – as the Herald of Andraste. She signalled for him to sit down, and he did so, on the edge of the bed, the great sword leaning up against the wall. She moved around the little room, boiling some water for tea, ignoring the way he watched her so carefully. She wasn’t really sure what she was doing but this, caring for someone, was second nature. She was the eldest of five after all.

“Here,” she said after a while, handing him a mug of tea. “It will help.”

“Tea?”

“It will help,” she insisted, sitting down on the edge of the bed with him, making sure there was some space. She needed to get a sofa for him – she couldn’t be seen sitting in bed with the Herald.

He smiled.

“It’s good to see you Josie,” he said. “I thought about you.”

She snorted.

“I doubt that.”

“You don’t believe me?” he asked. She shook her head and he chuckled. “I thought about you every time I got a woman off. Hell I thought about you every time I got myself off.”

“Herald!” she cried, jumping to her feet.

“Max,” he corrected.

“That’s not appropriate,” she hissed, flushing red.

“What?!” he said, laughing again.

“I – I am not that girl any more.”

She stood up, holding onto her tea. She could feel the flush of her cheeks burning and remembered the young woman she used to be but that was a long time ago. Before Val Royeaux, before she was due to take over her family, before the end of the world.

“What happened?” he asked.

She frowned. He should have changed too. Perhaps he had.

“Does it hurt?”

“Are you changing the subject? Or genuinely interested?”

“Both,” she said, “Does it hurt?”

He looked down at it, the glow reflecting off the pale skin of his face making him look a little sick.

“It burns. Well, not always. It tingles mostly but sometimes there’s this burn and I feel like cutting my hand off.”

“You need your hand Herald.”

“Please call me Max.”

“That’s not appropriate,” she said.

“Screw appropriate!”

She frowned, he might’ve changed but she hadn’t know him very well. One night a decade ago did not mean she meant this man. Not then and not now.

“I should go,” she said, putting her tea down on the side. “If there is anything you wish to add to the letter to your family before I send it please let me know.”

She went to leave and Max jumped up, knocking his sword over to stop her from leaving, hand tight on her arm but his grip slipping slightly on the golden silk of her sleeve.

“Please, Josephine, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“We don’t know each other very well Herald. We never did,” she said tuning back around.

“I know, I know.” He lets go of her, and picks his sword back up. He looks sad again. Young. “I was so glad to see someone I know. A friendly face. I just lost a lot of family members and have a weird green light in my hand and I’m a fucking religious icon expected to help a religious movement gain power and influence. I spent the last ten years of my life protecting the Ostwick Chantry from bandits and low-lifes! I haven’t left the Free Marches for eight years.”

“You lost family?” she asked.

“Cousins, an aunt, two uncles.”

“I didn’t know.”

“No one thought to fucking ask.”

The anger made him older, but not much and she reached out and took him hand, squeezing it slightly.

“I’m sorry Maxwell, I should’ve known.”

“Max,” he told her with a small smile.

She smiled, reaching out to taking his hand.

“How can I help?

“Be my friend?” he asked. She nodded, letting go of his hand.

“I think I can do that Herald.”

“Ugh, and stop calling me Herald,” he said, hand on his face. “Please.”

“What about Your Worship?” she asked with a grin.

“Only in bed Josie,” he said, with a wink and she blushed red.

“Not going to happen Herald,” she said sternly.

“It’s like I don’t know you at all,” Max said with laugh.

“You never did,” she said. “But we can change that.”

“Starting now,” he said, sitting back down on the bed and patting the space beside him. She sighed but picked up her cup of tea again and sat down.

“We need to get you a settee,” she said. “I can’t be seen sitting on your bed.”

“You weren’t always so concerned about propriety,” he said, “What happened?”

“Many things,” she said, “I spent many years in Val Royeaux as the Antivan ambassador to the Orlesian court and playing the great game. Much is made about propriety and court approval,” she said.

“Sounds boring.”

She laughed, and then flushed as she noted how he was watching her. He still looked at her like she was 18 again, that same look he had on his face when they had first slept together that night. She hadn’t forgotten it. Forgotten him. It had been a fun and satisfying evening after all.

“The great game is not boring. The Great Game is full of intrigue and danger. You will see for yourself I’m sure.”

“It’s dangerous?” She nodded. “The nobles in Ostwick definitely didn’t do anything dangerous. Or interesting.”

“I’m sure they did. The night I was there I noted several affairs, two death threats and an attempted kidnapping.”

“Really?” He turned to face her, enraptured by her and she remembered what had attracted her to him in the first place. She was in trouble if she still found him attractive after all this time an despite his position as the Herald. “I didn’t notice any of that?”

“That is because you were too busy avoiding your mother I suspect.”

He laughed and reached out to put a hand on her leg, and she hesitated, unsure whether she should move it or not. Because it was warm and solid through the soft material of her clothes and damn him. She took his hand and picked it up, placing it back on his own leg.

“Sorry,” he said, to her surprise. “Do you think my mother played.”

“Oh I have no doubt that Lady Trevelyan played her part in the Ostwick version of the game.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that.”

She smiled.

“She played well. You should be happy.”

“Do you have time? To tell me more about this?” he asked, and she was aware of the work she had left on her desk to come here and comfort him.

“A little,” she said, commissioning with herself.

“Good,” he said with a bright smile.

A genuine smile.