Anora's hair was becoming a problem.
Cauthrien thought back to how Anora had looked when she was queen, resplendent in her finery, her smooth braids shining like a second golden crown pinned tightly to her head. In prison Anora had kept her hair in a single neat braid, hanging like a rope down the back of her simple shift. But now it was a a dusty twig filled rat's nest, there was little time for personal grooming when you were a fugitive. Watching Anora wince as she tried to comb out the tangles Cauthrien was reminded why she never let her hair grow past her shoulders.
It was a chilly night, and they were both huddled close to the fire. Anora's hands were shaking slightly with cold as she tried to force the simple comb through the yellow-grey tangle of her hair.
She gave one final irritated tug and then gave up. "Maybe I should cut it off," she said with a sigh. "It's not as if I have to worry about appearances any more, and it would further disguise my appearance."
"It seems a pity, but...yes, you're probably right." said Cauthrien. "Do you want me to do it?"
"If you would be so kind," said Anora, looking across at Cauthrien with a thin, grateful smile. "Otherwise I may lose my nerve."
Cauthrian stood and drew her dagger before standing behind Anora and taking her hair into her hands. How soft it was! But rubbing her fingers against what remained of Anora's braid Cauthrien could feel a multitude of knots and snarls that seemed to go almost all the way up to her scalp.
"Reconsidering your choice?" asked Anora, lightly. "I wouldn't blame you."
"No," said Cauthrien, "Never. I just...wasn't sure where to cut."
'Well, as long as it isn't my throat I shall have no complaints," said Anora. Cauthrien looked at Anora's neck, still pale and delicate under the smudges of dirt, and felt again the horror she'd been overcome by when she'd heard that the new queen had ordered Anora's execution. The tip of one of Cauthrien's fingers brushed lightly against the nape of Anora's neck and she shivered.
"No matter who wears the crown I will always be loyal to you."
"I know," said Anora. She looked out into the woods, towards Denerim. "I have been so friendless since I lost the crown. Were it not for you I would have died many times over. I cannot express how grateful I am for the sacrifices you've made for me."
"I have no regrets," said Cauthrien. She grasped Anora's hair firmly. Anora sat up very straight and still. Cauthrien pulled the knife across the braid with a single sideways swipe just above Anora's shoulders, and then stepped around to sit back next to her.
"Oh," said Anora, "How strange that feels." She looked much younger with her hair so short. She poked at her shortened hair with her fingers, and then tried to run them through it with limited success. "Hmm...I suppose I can't expect to escape the comb entirely."
"Let me," said Cauthrien, reaching for the comb.
"Oh, no," said Anora. "Really, Ser Cauthrien...we are equals now, you and I. If anything, it is I who should serve you."
"Then you may comb my hair when I am done," said Cauthrien, surprised at her own bravery.
Anora looked at her with wide eyes, and then gave a small smile. "...yes," she said, moving closer to Cauthrien and taking her hand. "That does seem fair."