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The sun was setting over the fields of the Hinterlands, light dappling through the trees and clouds. Lace Harding, a Fereldan girl herself, felt easily at home here. She'd spent a lot of time alone, curating skills that lent themselves to a solo lifestyle— scouting, hunting, cartography. Most of the Inquisition maps had been updated by her, changes and geographical landmarks informed by her. Her life, on paper, was full. A job she was passionate about, friends and companions that knew her name and who appreciated her skills, a roof over her head and enough gold to send home to her ma. But still, something felt empty within her and Lace hated feeling that something was incomplete.
Glancing at her notes, she sighed a breath of relief. One more outpost to scout out and report back on. Then, she could return to Skyhold and have a warm tea, maybe hear what Sera had been up to, or Krem and the Bulls. She could lay on her bed, read a book she'd borrow from Josephine or Varric, water her plants, play chess with the Inquisitor… since Solas was too talented at it.
From her hilltop vantage point, the Warden outpost looked abandoned. A small cabin, positioned by some trees and a small creek. Such a pretty spot. The thought sat still in her mind and she smiled at the elfroot and embrium growing around the edges of the once garden. So, she threw her pack over her shoulder and crept down the hill.
Lace froze. As she got so close, the sound that had piqued her interest grew louder. A soft humming of an old Fereldan lullaby that sent goosebumps down her spine. Her mother had sang that song to help her sleep, when the nightmares had her waking in a cold sweat.
So what was it doing here?
Peeking her head around the corner, Harding stopped still. Sitting in the garden, as if from a painting, sat a woman. Ink black hair curled around her face in tendrils. The small, loose bun doing nothing to tame it. The woman's eyes, a golden amber with the warmth of a hearth fire, were glued to the pages of the book before her. She wore Warden blues, and even though Harding didn't know her— she felt as if she remembered her from somewhere.
"Whoa…" she murmured, unable to keep her thoughts inside. The woman glanced up, shocked, meeting Harding's gaze. "Uh, sorry, I— I didn't mean to interrupt."
The woman smiled, waving her into the garden with a nod. "No interruption…" her voice was smooth and warm, like honey in tea. "It's a welcome change. I haven't had a visitor in… over a fortnight now."
"Oh, well.. in that case." Lace stood up from her crouch and joined her in the garden. Getting closer, the smell of cinnamon and elfroot mixed into an intoxicating mix that had her cheeks turning red. The woman was human, taller than her, all soft lines and curves. Lace had to resist the urge to sit down beside her and curl up in the grass, like a lazy cat in the sun.
You're going mad, Harding…
"My name's Bethany, Bethany Hawke," she motioned to the crest on Harding's leathers. "You're with the Inquisition. Is…" a pause, "is Varric alright?"
Hawke. That's how she knew her.
"Scout Harding, uh Lace… Lace Harding…" she took a breath to steady herself. "Varric? He's great… still writing, still… being Varric."
Bethany smile softened, her eyes clouding with something else, something unreadable. "And have you heard anything about… my—"
"Hawke was okay, last I heard." Lace interjected, gently, "I haven't been back in a few weeks though. Scouting keeps me busy and out of Skyhold."
Bethany sighed and a peace settled over her expression. Harding glanced around the garden, taking in the plants and the ways they grew here still, despite the lack of care. Wild flora always shocked her… since her plants back in her room didn't grow quite as large or as fast.
Bethany closed her book slowly, a pressed flower in between the pages as a placeholder. Her eyes took in Lace walking about the garden, fingers trailing the leaves and blooms. Harding's stomach couldn't sit still, instead it practiced its flips and made her nauseous.
"So," Bethany said, "what brings the Inquisition poking around these parts?"
She straightened her spine, adjusted her belt, and immediately stumbled over a root. Very cool, Harding, she cursed internally, dusting her breeches off.
"Oh, you know… standard scouting… Mapping landmarks and uh," she glanced about, gesturing vaguely at the creek and cabin, "making sure this is still here."
Bethany's mouth curled with amusement, clear but kind. "I can guarantee you, Scout Harding, the creek hasn't gone anywhere since I arrived."
"Right. Exactly!" She brushed her bangs from her eyes and stole a glance at the Warden. "I should report on that." Bethany raised an eyebrow, and Lace cleared her throat, which didn't help her voice from coming out a tad too high when she continued. "I, uh, thought that this outpost was abandoned… One of our Warden connections had a map of some different outposts and I've been checking them all. uh, the garden though— it looks good. Really good. Healthy, even."
She winced internally. Who describes plants that way? She took a step towards the garden bed and touched the red center of an embrium bloom. "Maker's breath, look at the color here. They don't grow like this in Skyhold, probably from the cold. And the elfroot… such a vibrant patch… could I.. take some back?"
Bethany nodded, her smile growing warmer and fonder. "You know plants well."
"I mean, yeah, I guess," Lace smiled, crouching to be closer to the flora. "Scouts have to, you know? They tell you everything. Who's been through, what the weather's been like, if the ground's been disturbed." She paused and then added, quieter, "besides, they're nice… they mind their business and grow when they can. Thrive when someone cares for them."
Bethany hummed and then the garden grew quiet. A small rumble echoed in the distance and Lace glanced to the sky. Dark clouds were moving in. Fast.
"Shit."
The word was the dam breaking. Rain poured from the sky, like the gods themselves were wringing out their towels. Bethany let out an amused screech, amusement threaded into her tone, and she grabbed Lace's hand. If the lightning hadn't stuck the tree down the hill, she surely would have thought the current running through her was from natural causes. Not because a beautiful woman had touched her hand.
The Warden pulled her into her cabin, the door barely shutting before another roll of thunder shook the frame. The mage lit the fire quickly, placing the scout near the flame. "Here," Bethany murmured, wrapping a spare blanket around Harding's shoulder, "warm up, I'll prep some tea."
"I should really be—"
"You cannot leave in this weather, Lace."
Her name on her tongue sent shivers down her spine and a new heat in her stomach. "Okay," she conceded and finally took in the space. It's cozy here, she thought, taking in the warm wooden table and two chairs. The small counter space and bookshelf. The fireplace with herbs hanging from the ceiling around it. Two lanterns, warm flames flickering inside beside the… one. bed.
"Oh."
Bethany's eyes followed hers to the cot in the corner. "It's quite comfortable, I promise."
"Oh well, I have my bedroll here, I can just—"
"Lace, you're my guest, and your bedroll is soaked from the few seconds of rain. You cannot sleep on that. And you know it. Besides," Bethany's eyes sparkled with something akin to mischief, "we're both adults, are we not?"
With a nod, Harding tried to quiet the static in her brain, the frequencies inside her crossing one another. One bed. Two of them. One bed… one bed big enough for one person to fit comfortably. And there was two of them. And Bethany was… gorgeous.
Harding poured two tankards of ale from the flask in her pack. "Something stronger than tea, warm us up a bit more, I think. Get the chill from our bones…" Her hands needed to be busy or else she wasn't sure she wouldn't reach out and touch her new friend's face.
Bethany nodded and chuckled, the sound soft and warm as it enveloped Lace's ears. "I haven't seen rain like this yet, since I was posted here. Makes me miss Kirkwall a bit."
"Yeah, Redcliffe too."
"A Ferelden girl, huh… I knew I liked you." Bethany's shoulder nudged hers playfully and Lace's insides felt like a tied up rope. Her skin was burning, but she hadn't yet taken a sip of her ale. She'd need to, if this Warden kept being this… kind? Nice? Close.
Lace took a hardy swig, the liquid courage seeping into every inch of her stout dwarven frame. "Have you seen much darkspawn activity here? Since you were posted?"
"Hm, not much, not anything I can't handle."
Harding's mind conjured up the image of Bethany in battle, sweat on her brow, dirt staining her cheeks— though the soft pink of exertion still blooming beneath. She was strong, capable, and as a mage- deadly. The idea of being back to back with her, danger igniting the flame inside them, caused something to stir deep within Harding, in a place she'd never felt a stirring before.
"I bet," she whispered, not meeting Bethany's eye. She could feel the blood coursing to her ears, her cheeks, her chest. Red. Always so red. She cursed her fair skin, the ability to hide her emotions nearly impossible with such a tone.
"Lace Harding," Bethany tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering just a touch too long on the hollow of her jaw, "are you… blushing?"
"I— no," she playfully swatted the hand away, "it's just the ale."
"Hm, the ale. I haven't had ale in awhile. There's not many couriers for the Warden's now… after Adamant. Especially for those who weren't there."
"Did they… send you away before it?"
"No, I deserted."
The statement was quiet and dark, filling the room. Beside her, Harding could feel Bethany shaking a bit. The room had warmed, their clothes dried. And so, Lace knew that it wasn't from cold. She reached over without thinking, hand meeting Bethany's in the silence. As the woman's breath hitched, Harding gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
"That was a brave thing to do, Bethany. Braver than I could be."
"That can't be true… you're Scout Harding. I've heard some tales of your bravery. You don't give yourself enough credit."
"And you're Bethany Hawke… surely there a place for you somewhere that isn't," Harding gestures vaguely around them, "here."
"Maybe," the rain pattered down harder on the roof, "but I don't think I'd fit with my family anymore… not after everything we've lost. Besides, I'm not even sure when Carver is posted or where Hawke is…" The room sat still with them. Lace's heart ached against her chest, pulled at her to do something else besides hold her hand. "And you," the words pulled Harding from her mind, "do you have a place… within the Inquisition? A Home?"
It took her by surprise— the loneliness in Bethany's voice. Like she'd given up on finding a place to rest her head that wasn't somewhere by herself, isolated. Harding swallowed the lump in her throat.
"I… I wouldn't call the Inquisition home. Or with the Stone-Carvers… or with Ma." She took a deep breath and tightened her hold on Bethany's hand. "It's hard, to feel this way, after they've given me so much. But, I really think… if I wasn't so— ya know, good at my work— they wouldn't have taken on such a young scout without much training…"
Harding sighed. Bethany stood up and began to clear the dishes, her body moving as she spoke: "I get that, the skill… the being wanted only because you're needed for something."
"Yeah, and being invisible otherwise…"
"You're not invisible to me, Lace…"
Harding's body stiffened, her breath stopping. The air inside felt electric, like the lightening had somehow struck inside and was bouncing around until it hit her. Bethany motioned to the bedside and patted beside her as she sat down. The two sat there, arms brushing and fingers accidentally touching, as they told stories from their travels and childhood. Harding kept trying to quiet the bear inside her stomach, the animal that was clawing to get to Bethany. And the Warden appeared calm. Eyes dancing over Lace's face and body, lingering seconds too long for friendly gazes. Eventually, the wear of the day seems to lay on them both and Harding let a small yawn escape.
"Shall we sleep?" Bethany asked quietly, starting to untie her over dress and stripping to her smalls. Harding couldn't speak, just nodded, turning away embarrassed. She began to take her tunic off, but the knot behind her back was too tight. Of course it was. Warm, delicate fingers met hers and the shadow of Bethany stretched over her.
"Can I help?"
"Mhm," was all she could manage in an answer. The Warden untied the knot and gently pulled the tunic free. The heat of the fire behind them was blazing, fiery against Lace's back. Bethany's fingers reached around and brushed her belt buckle next, her voice tickling Harding's neck as she murmured whether she wanted help. The word, yes, stayed locked inside her throat. Her head frozen. The feeling of Bethany's arms around her, fingers on her waist, was enough to make her Scout perception fuzzy. And so, without hearing that she could undress herself, Bethany's fingers unbuckled the belt and untied her breeches.
"I think you're good now," the words were warm in her ear and the hold on Lace's muscles finally ended. She nodded, taking a step away and pulling her breeches down, folding them into a neat pile. The two clamber into the cot, laying side by side. The smell of Bethany's soap-- cinnamon and elfroot— nearly overtakes Harding and she takes a few deep breaths, drowning herself in it. The crackle of tension around them is only masked by the occasional roll of thunder and the patter of the rain. Bethany's breathing is slow beside her and Lace wondered how the woman had fallen into sleep so fast.
Shifting slightly, her arm brushed closer to Bethany. The woman's voice broke the silence.
"Are you awake?" the words are soft, low, like a secret hanging between the two.
"Yeah, are you? Well, you obviously are."
Bethany giggled, turning to face Lace. The dwarf turned mirror her, eyes meeting in the darkened cabin. "Can't sleep?"
Harding shook her no.
"Me either." The silence surrounds them once more before Bethany raised a hand, slowly— cautiously, to cup her bed partner's face. "Is… is this okay?"
A light gasp escaped from Harding's lips, "yes."
Bethany leaned in closer, her lips ghosting Harding's lips. "And this?"
"Yes."
With a vibrating hum, Bethany closed the distance, her lips brushing Harding's before pressing fully. It was as if the world stopped. The Warden's lips were soft and careful, as they gently tasted and explored. Harding leaned into her, a small and desperate whine melting into their shared embrace. At the sound, Bethany's hand's wrapped around her and pulled Harding's body flush against hers. The kiss deepened, tongues mixing and dancing. She tastes like ale and apples.
The world rushed back all at once for Lace: the rain, the fire, the heat of Bethany's mouth.
It was too much. Not enough. Everything. All at once.
Harding broke the kiss on a sharp breath, a sound somewhere mixed between a plea and beg. Her hand's flew up— bracing against Bethany's wrists, then her shoulders, then her waist. She moved too fast, as if she couldn't ground herself quick enough to reality. Couldn't find a tether. Her whole body was shaking, none of her scouting had prepared her for this.
"Lace?"
Bethany stilled immediately, her voice soft and gentle. She felt the taller woman's forehead press against her, her thumbs stroking Harding's cheek in steady lines. "Hey, hey. It's okay… look at me."
Harding tried. She really did. But everything came flooding up in this moment and she felt herself losing the fight. Months of loneliness on the road, of glances across taverns she'd never acted on, of feeling unseen unless she was working… all of it. It all came surging up to the surface now. It was going to swallow her whole. Her fingers gripped Bethany's shoulders tighter, nails digging a bit into the woman's flesh.
"I'm okay… I'm okay…" she managed through her shaking voice. "I just— Fuck. I think I want this… I want this, you, I just… I don't know what to do with it… I've never…"
"Oh Lace…" Bethany whispered, and the tenderness nearly undid her.
A cool fingertip brushed over Harding's jaw. "You don't have to do anything. Let me take care of you, okay? Let me want this, let me lead. Does that sound good?"
Harding's breath hitched and she almost crumpled in on herself. In all her years, in all her pining, she never imagined she'd be the one being taken care of. The answer fell out of her in a single, broken breath: "yes."
Bethany's fingers trailed down Harding's throat, slow and deliberate. Her breath ghosted over her skin while the faint hum on magic cooled the path where her hands traveled. The contrast sent a full body shock through her. Bethany untied the top of Lace's undergarments, and moved onto her chest, stomach, hips— mapping her out like she was new territory. Harding's knees drew up instinctively, body arching toward the touch like it'd been waiting years for it.
"Come here." Bethany shifted and guided them both upright. Her finger's slid into Harding's braids with reverence, undoing them spool by spool. Until her hair tumbled free over her shoulders. The Warden combed through the strands with her fingers, gentle yet possessive, and when she was finished, she pulled the ribbon free from her own hair, holding it up with two fingers.
"May I?"
Harding didn't respond, couldn't, the curls of Bethany's ink black hair mesmerized her. She was lost in the dark waves, the smell of Bethany's lavender shampoo filling the space around them. The flames flickered in the hearth, dancing shadows around the room, over the curves of the women's bodies.
Bethany repeated the question quieter, grabbing Harding's hands with subtle force. Lace managed a raspy mhm and felt the soft fabric of the ribbon wrap around her wrists. Not to tight, but enough to bind her.
Before Harding could melt under the heat rising to her face, Bethany leaned in, her breath hitching in the scouts ear. "Beautiful…" Bethany breathed. Fingers delicately tangled in Lace's hair tugging just enough to expose her throat. The sound that tore itself from Harding's lips was raw and she fell into a pool of wanting as her head lolled back.
"Fuck…" the word dripped off Harding's tongue as Bethany's teeth ghosted her exposed neck, each nip send shock waves through her system. Harding could feel each graze like it was being etched into her bones. A firmer tug on her hair shocked her back to reality and her eyes fluttered open.
"Eyes on me, Lace…"
Harding obeyed instantly, dazed and trembling, lungs simply trying to remember how to work properly. Bethany's fingers trailed cool sparks down Harding's chest and her nipples hardened with pleasure. Her eyes met Bethany's— warm amber pools of reverent adoration and hunger.
"Good girl," Bethany cooed.
The words punched her in the gut and poured gasoline on the fire growing inside Harding. The Warden moves her mouth to Harding's collarbone, marking her places as she goes, leaving small bruises and kisses in her wake. Harding's body arched into her touch, hands struggling against the ribbon. Her body pulled her forward— wanting… needing— and Bethany took the cue, hands moving to untie the lower parts of Lace's smallclothes.
"Is this okay?" the woman asked, her voice steadier than Harding felt. "Let's give you back your hands, yeah?" Bethany's fingers quickly untie the ribbon and Harding's hands grasp onto her again.
"More than okay," she murmured, hips rocking into the Bethany's palms. Bethany dipped her fingers lower, brushing the heat between Harding's thighs and the dwarf gasped, grinding into the touch with a desperate rhythm.
"Can I…?" Bethany whispered.
"Please," Harding begged, voice cracking under the need inside her. Her breath stuttered, her whole body leaning into Bethany as if guided by gravity. As if reacting to her, Bethany's fingers moved down and tangled in her hair, sliding against her already wet slit. A finger slide slowly inside her, arching at the center of her.
Harding's breath comes all at once, too sharp and too fast, like she's been holding it in since she first saw Bethany in the garden. It hit her in waves: months of lonely patrols, cold nights alone, the quiet hunger she tried to laugh off, the shock of finally being touched by the exact kind of woman she kept trying not to imagine. A moan escaped on her lips, half a whimper threaded in.
Bethany hushes her with a kiss, her fingers working Harding at a slow, rhythmic pace. "Oh, Lace…" the words are whispered against her jaw, "everything in you is just asking for this…"
Harding's voice broke on a single please. And Bethany lifted her other hand, a soft glow of magic building in her palm. From her hips she conjured a phantom limb, a glowing and ethereal cock shaped perfectly for Harding.
"I—" Harding swallowed, the dual sensations of Bethany's fingers keeping her warm and building and the sight of the Warden's next plans washing over her.
"Is this something you want, love," Bethany whispered, pausing as she glanced down at Lace. Harding couldn't stop the beg from rising in her throat and she let out a breathless, "yes, now."
A fluid motion and Bethany was inside her, her magical length moving with their hips. The two women's bodies were flush together, Harding's head resting against the warm bosom of the Warden with her hands clinging to her shoulders. Lace cannot contain a shudder as the gentle thrusts filled her with a feral want… and a small whine ghosted across Bethany's collarbones.
"Too much?"
Lace shook her head, nails leaving crescent shapes on Bethany's shoulder, "no… no, I— it's perfect, you're perfect…" Bethany's hips grinded slowly into her, lips meeting hers with a curling of her tongue. The Warden tasted like ale and elfroot, and Lace couldn't control the way her body arched and jerked to add more friction between them.
"You're doing so well, Lace," Bethany praised, breath filling the space between their lips. "Let go now, I have you."
Harding's body contracted, the cock teasing her with devastatingly slow pumps. She gasped loudly, body curling in on itself as her muscles stiffened.
"I think I'm close…"
A light hum escaped from Bethany and Lace came undone as the Warden pressed her thumb against the scout's clit, rubbing small circles. Tears welled in Harding's eyes and she felt a surge she'd never felt before. And she came with a staggering breath.
Overstimulated, twitching, tears streaming down her cheeks. Harding had never felt anything akin to that before— the physical release of all her emotions and thoughts. Bethany released her cock gently from inside her, the magic dissipating before her half-lidded gaze.
"I—" a finger to her lips as Bethany purred a low "shh" against her hair. The larger woman wrapped her arms around Harding, holding her tight enough that Lace could tap the beat of her heart out against her thigh.
Bethany's voice was low when it speaks: "breathe with me, okay, baby?"
Harding tried to focus on the breathing, the ins and outs, but the pet name— baby— sent her stomach dropping into her lap. The hand rubbing her back grounded her and eventually, with some intent, her breathing started to match up and sync with Bethany's.
It's at that moment that the woman stood up from the bed to walk away. Lace trembled, vulnerable and exposed, as she laid on the bed alone. Bethany returned with a clean cloth and a small bowl of warm water. Before she can protest, the cloth is on her skin and Harding felt her cheeks blush pink with embarrassment as she's being cleaned.
"I've got you…" Bethany kept murmuring, touch as gentle as a feather. Each mark, each hickey on Harding's skin was gifted a kiss as she went. She found herself falling silent. Bethany stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, fingers grazing over the muscular curves of Lace's body.
"You okay?"
Harding nodded. "Yeah, people just… don't usually…"
"They should." Matter of fact. "You deserve time and care and tenderness."
A beat. The fire crackled behind. Harding cleared her throat.
"I didn't know that it could, you know, that it could be like this. I've never been the one to…"
"Hmm," Bethany's eyes softened with adoration. "Well, now you do. And you deserved it, Lace, each second of it."
Once Harding was settled with Bethany back in bed, she turned and faced her. "You haven't… it's your turn."
Bethany's face grew apologetic. "You don't have to—"
"I want to."
Harding watched Bethany swallow the lump in her throat, head nodding slightly as she adjusted to give the dwarf room. It was as if her training kicked in. Notice with each sense. Her eyes scanned Bethany's body like it was new terrain, taking note of each fold and curve, freckle and dimple. Her hands followed her gaze, fingers dancing across the Warden's soft skin, warm and lightly shaking with anticipation. Harding could hear the light hitches in Bethany's breath and took in the smell of her arousal and the herbs hanging nearby. She'd bottle that up to smell later if she could.
Pressing her lips to Bethany's hips, she heard the airy gasp from the top of the bed. "Lower just a bit… Yes, Lace, there..." She kept her lips pressed and enveloping the tip of Bethany's clit, tongue adding suction. Bethany's voice shook, "keep that pressure— ah, ah, yes, like that…" Harding slid her tongue lower, the flat of it lapping at the wet opening. Then, remember how good it felt when done to her, Harding pushed two of her fingers inside Bethany, thrusting with slow curls. The heat of the woman on her hand was enough to make her breath catch.
"You are so beautiful, Bethany," Lace whispered against the woman's thigh, leaving a mark of her own. Her hand didn't slow, her archer's fingers experts at such a dexterous task.
"Fuck," Bethany sighed, body tensing up. "Don't stop, baby."
Harding rode the pace until Bethany was at the edge, toes curling with a wave of pleasure. No sound save for the smallest of whimpers. Harding followed in the Warden's steps, gathering a towel and warm water to clean and care for her.
"Thank you, Lace," Bethany whispered as the scout climbed back into the bed, nuzzling into the Warden's chest. Harding couldn't speak and so just nodded, giving a small hum of acknowledgement.
I just had sex with Bethany Hawke.
The thought was bouncing around inside her head. Bethany's arms wrapped around her, hold them together, and Harding let the night take her, slipping into sleep.
Harding woke to the light breathing of the woman behind her.
There was a woman behind her.
"Oh thank the gods," Harding breathed out, the relief palpable. She was worried she'd wake and the night would have been just a dream. She shifted in bed, eyes taking in Bethany's sleeping form. She really was the most beautiful woman… certainly the best thing that has ever come from Harding's flirting.
Reaching out, she tentatively brushed a dark lock from Bethany's face, and saw the warm amber pools flutter open.
"Good morning."
"Morning, Beth," Lace whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Bethany let a small giggle out, pulling Harding down on top of her. She kept her mind straight, she had a plan: "I have breakfast supplies in my pack, want me to cook?"
"Mm, that'd be lovely." Bethany kissed the base of Harding's jaw and then stretched her long arms. Harding threw her shirt and breeches back on, pulling the herbs and eggs from her bag and dislodging the iron pan from the side. She made quick work of cooking, the smell of rosemary and thyme eggs filling the cabin.
The two share a quiet breakfast, legs brushing as the world wakes up outside. Birds whistled and flew past the open windows. Critters scurried through, the garden shifting in the wind. It was these kind of quiet morning that Lace had always dreamt of having… she had just never imagined another person there beside her.
Bethany cleaned the dishes, packing the pan back onto the side of Harding's pack. She watched as she did, memorizing the way that the Warden's hip swung as she walked, how her tongue ran across her lower lip, hair wafting the smell of lavender and cinnamon her way.
"You'll have to be going, won't you?"
Harding watched Bethany's eyes darken. She nodded and finished lacing up her leathers.
"Yeah, I should report in…" She made no move toward the door. Bethany closed the distance between them, sitting down in the chair near the door. Fingers pulled at Lace's belt, carrying the her over to Bethany until she was wrapped in arms and the Warden's face nuzzled against her neck.
"I'm going to miss you, Lace Harding."
"We… I can write you… and visit along the way, when I'm out."
Bethany's voice was soft, yearning threaded into each word. "I'd like that a lot."
Harding stroked the Warden's hair and pulled back, hands cupping her face. "We'll see each other soon, I promise."
"I know…"
"This, you…" Harding laughed, tears welling in her eyes. "This meant everything to me… thank you."
"No, thank you," Bethany smiled. "You made me feel less alone for a while— that's no small thing."
Lace kissed her, thumbs stroking her cheeks. Then, she shouldered her pack and took a step out the door. She flashed another sad, tearful smile Bethany's way. "See you soon."
Bethany nodded and Harding pushed out into the Hinterlands. The wind tugged at her braids and the old ache in her chest, but it couldn’t touch the warmth Bethany had left there. Lace Harding had somewhere to come back to now—and someone who’d be waiting.