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He had been coming to her bed for months now, practically lived in her room. That didn't make this feel any less like an invasion of her privacy. He hadn't meant to find it. He'd been casting about in the drawer (In the pitch dark. Utterly brilliant, that.) for the whetstone he knew she kept there, to sharpen his daggers. He hadn't intended for his fingers to brush against the strange softness at the back of the drawer and had removed it out of sheer curiosity. But that still didn't make this any better.
He thumbed the delicate, enchanted petals, watched as they gave way to the pressure and then softly, gently rippled back into their proper place. After their first night together, when silent tears had spilled over her cheeks and he'd been so certain that he'd done something wrong - that he had been too presumptuous and pushed her to something she hadn't been ready for, hadn't wanted - she had told him about Alistair.
She rolled toward him in her sleep and then settled again. Nathaniel watched her face, dappled in the moonlight that filtered in through the shutters. He stroked the backs of his fingers against her cheeks, smoothed pieces of hair away from her face and knew, then, in that moment, that he would do this for her. Even if she wouldn't do it for herself.
Swinging his legs out of the bed, he grabbed the old Howe bud vase that sat on her (no, their) night-table; the one she'd found for him at the bottom of a pile of refuse Maker knew where. The silly old vase that his mother had adored and he hadn't realized he cared about until Sereda had pressed it into his hands with a smile. "I lost everything once," she had said. "It's funny how even the little things become monumental when you have nothing." Her words rang in his ears as he stepped into her office.
##
As he eased back under the blankets, she stretched langorously and reached for him. "Where'd you go?" she asked as her hand slid across his stomach and up his ribs.
He caught her hand, kissing her fingers as he laid down and settled her smaller frame against his side. "I had to check on something."
She tilted her head back and studied him for a moment. "You're a terrible liar, Nathaniel."
He traced her cheekbones with his fingertips, then crooked a finger and placed it under her chin. "When it comes to you, I hope I'm always a terrible liar. Now go back to sleep. Big day tomorrow with the new recruits and all."
She made a face and grumbled something that he thought might have sounded like "spoilsport", but she did pillow her head on his shoulder. "You know," she yawned, "I'm going to ask you where you were again in the morning."
He kissed her fingers again before laying her hand on his chest, placing his own over it. "I expect it."
##
At the breakfast table in the morning, things carried on as usual. Nathaniel could see Varel placing a thick bundle of letters next to her plate - darkspawn reports, petitions from nobles in the Arling, most likely a missive or two of a personal nature.
She looked up as Nathaniel slid into a seat across the table from her. "Commander Aeducan," he said with a nod, spearing a particularly large chunk of potato with his fork.
"Howe," she responded with a slight smirk
He tapped a forefinger once lightly on the table in acknowledgement of the ankle she brushed against his knee, and she flashed him a grin before ducking her head back to her correspondance. It had become a bit of a game over the years since their attraction had grown and flourished - seeing how many different ways they could touch and acknowledge each other that would go unnoticed by any others present.
Sigrun dropped unceremoniously into the seat next to Sereda. "When does the fresh meat get here?"
"Good morning to you, too," Sereda laughed.
"Aw, Commander. Are we really still hung up on formalities? After all these years?" Sigrun asked, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.
Sereda hmmed in response as she tore a chunk off of a biscuit. "I'm assuming by 'fresh meat' you mean the new recruits and not, say, a new barrel of salted pork."
"You say tomato," Sigrun answered.
"Just after lunch, I think. I need you and Nathaniel to come to my office when we're done here. I'm going to need one of you to take some of them to Soldier's Peak. There's also been a report of a small darkspawn warband west of here that needs to be dealt with." Sereda sifted through her letters. She pulled one out and slid it across the table to him. He scanned it quickly, the words "Drake's Fall" practically leaping off the parchment.
He nodded once. He'd probably be assigned to handle the darkspawn band, and that suited him well enough. Sigrun had a certain flair for dealing with the new recruits. Sereda turned back to her letters, and the three of them ate in companionable silence. Sigrun was the first to finish, chair legs scraping against the floor as she pushed back from the table.
"Come on, Commander. You have duty rosters to complete," she said as she hoisted Sereda out of her chair.
Sereda laughed in protest, and grasped for her stack of papers. The three of them made their way toward her office, Sereda falling behind as she delved back into the reports in her hands. Sigrun was the first to cross the threshold. "What's that, Commander? On your desk? Have a secret admirer?" she grinned.
Sereda looked up from the letter she'd been reading. "What are you-" Her steps faltered. Just for a moment. An "oh" left her in a soft exhalation. She said nothing else, but he saw the almost imperceptible twitch as she squared her shoulders.
She walked over to her chair, then sat down and began sorting her papers into corresponding stacks already present on her desk. Sigrun looked fit to burst.
"So what is it?" she asked when the silence had stretched for several minutes.
Sereda raised an eyebrow at her. "A rose. In a vase."
Sigrun snorted. "I know that. But what is it?"
Sereda reached a hesitant finger out to brush against one of the petals, then down the narrow neck of the vase. She looked up at Nathaniel, and there was the slightest hitch in her breath before she said, "It's a little thing, Sigrun."