For any readers of my All Things Pass series, you may recall an author's note in which I mentioned that I had previously been using "Bromance" as a placeholder title for a chapter that delved into the friendship between Shepard and Garrus. You may also recall that I lamented my choice to ultimately change the title. And now, numerous months later, I still regret that decision. In the table of contents that I use to keep track of all the chapters in this story, I wrote down a couple of ideas for titles for this chapter. Most of them were, quite frankly, god awful. On a whim and because it made me giggle I wrote down "Tit Cookies" as an optional title. As time went on I found myself growing more and more attached to this silly title. Now, faced with the decision of whether to scrap that working title in favor of something more serious, I can't help but think back to my deep regret over changing the title of that other chapter. So, let's ask ourselves, what would Sera do? Clearly, Tit Cookies is a superior title to all other options and we are all better off for it. You're welcome.
Anyway, I can't be the only person who felt cheated that we didn't actually get a scene of Sera and the Inquisitor baking cookies together. It was a nice idea and I like Sera's backstory and all, but talk about burying the lead.
Again, many thanks to Beast of Burton for editing this chapter. Remind me that I owe you a bottle of liquor or something.
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Tit Cookies
"Hey, you! You have time? It's not a question. Let's go!"
Nyima stopped in the doorway to Sera's room and tilted her head.
"I've got something I want to do for you," Sera explained. "Just come. You won't need your gear and stuff."
Well, Nyima thought, I was looking for a diversion. Sera usually finds good ways to kill time. She smirked and raised an eyebrow suggestively. "With you I'll do anything."
Sera smirked back good-naturedly. "I bet, yeah. Come on, let's do it." Without further explanation Sera turned around and climbed out the window. Nyima followed, hesitantly, crawling out onto the second story roof of the tavern. Sera led her a little ways from the window and towards the edge of the roof. She sat with her legs draped over the edge and picked up a small bundle of cloth that'd been set out there. Nyima sat down next to her without a word, eyeing the bundle curiously. Sera unwrapped it to reveal two large cookies and handed one to the Inquisitor.
Nyima took it and said, "Um, thanks. So, we're eating? On a roof?"
Sera eyed her own cookie as if looking at a rat and then took a bite. Her nose wrinkled in disgust and she immediately spat it back out. Nyima hoped no one was walking down below.
"They're horrible, right?" Sera said, sticking out her tongue. "And raisins, ugh! I friggin' still hate cookies."
Nyima took a tentative bite of her cookie and she had to admit that it wasn't very good. She wondered where Sera had stolen these from. "You hate cookies?" Nyima asked. "Why are we eating them then?"
Sera glanced away for a second, looking uncharacteristically shy. Then she looked back to Nyima and answered, "I got caught stealing when I was little, yeah? You get alienage or worse for that, but the 'Lady Emmald' took me in. She was sick and couldn't have children. I had no parents. It worked out." She looked out at the rest of Skyhold, but her eyes were clearly seeing the past. "Anyway, she gets a year sicker, so I ask her about cookies. Because mums make cookies. I can pass that down, or something. Turns out, she couldn't cook. She missed that talk with her mum. The ones she 'made' she bought and pretended." She turned back to face Nyima and suddenly there was a bitter expression on her face. "Aw, right? Well, no, she was a bitch. She hid buying them by keeping me away from the baker. She did that by lying that he didn't like me, didn't like elves. She let me hate so she could protect her pride. I hated him so much and I hated…" She bit off whatever she was about to say with a frustrated sigh. Sera didn't say anything for a while and Nyima didn't push. Finally, she said, "Well, she died, and I hate pride. 'Pride cookies.'"
For a second Nyima was at a loss for words. She never thought Sera would tell her so much about herself. The other woman had been unusually guarded about her past ever since joining the Inquisition. But now so many things came into focus. Sera wasn't nearly as unfamiliar with the nobility as she liked to pretend. She'd seen behind the gilded mask first hand and understood the lies. And she knew something about what families were supposed to be like. She'd sought normalcy only to come up empty handed.
Unsure how Sera would react, but trusting her gut, Nyima gently laid her hand over Sera's and whispered, "I'm sorry."
Sera shrugged, but she didn't shy away from the other woman's touch.
"Did you love her?" Nyima asked.
Sera furrowed her brow and tilted her head. "What?"
"Did you love Lady Emmald, or did you just try to love her?" Loving and losing was not so bad. At least then Sera would have known that love was real, even if it could be betrayed or lost. Love that ended left scars which ached at first, but eventually healed with time. But trying to love and not succeeding was worse. It left scars that remained red and raw and open, never quite healing. Those wounds would have made Sera feel like love was just a lie, that it wasn't real.
Seeming to catch Nyima's meaning, Sera answered, "Guess I tried."
Nyima nodded her understanding, but she didn't know what she could do to make the situation better. She wished that she could correct Lady Emmald's mistake and show Sera that she could care about someone without it being a lie. No wonder Sera had been suspicious of so many things. Nyima understood why Sera was both skeptical of the Chantry, yet secretly wanted it to be true. Why she'd asked Nyima after Haven if she was still herself – afraid that someone she had wanted to trust had proven to be false yet again. Sera was trying to trust Nyima, to reach out. Nyima only wished that she knew how to demonstrate to the other woman that her trust wasn't misplaced.
Luckily, Sera was already a step ahead. "But this is great!" Sera said, perking up and offering a smile. "You're great! So I thought maybe me and you could make some… I don't know. 'Us cookies?' Because then I could like them again." She rubbed her neck and looked down. "Ugh, it's stupid."
Nyima squeezed Sera's hand, which prompted the other woman to look up at her, and Nyima gave her a smile. "That sounds like a great idea, Sera. I'd love to make some cookies with you."
"Really?" Sera asked excitedly, sounding genuinely shocked. "Sounded daft every step to me."
"I'm going to be honest with you: I don't know how to make cookies either. My mom also didn't cook and never bothered to teach me. But I'll get a recipe from the cooks and we'll take over the kitchen and learn together."
"Friggin' nobles, right?" Sera grinned and shook her head. "Not a one knows how to make a cookie to save their lives."
"So, can we get off the roof now?" Nyima asked.
"Oh, yes please. Smells like bird and dank. This part, not a good idea."
They climbed back into the tavern through the window and Nyima led the way down to the kitchens. When she stepped into the room all the serving girls froze, wide-eyed. An older woman with graying brown hair and wearing an apron quickly came over, executing a perfect curtsy before saying, "Inquisitor! To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"
Nyima heard Sera let out a derisive snort behind her, but she ignored it. "I'm sorry to bother you ladies," Nyima answered with a kind smile. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
"Oh, not at all! We're just doing minor prep work, your grace. We won't be truly busy until a few hours before supper time."
"Good. I was actually hoping that I might take over your kitchen for about an hour or so."
The woman blinked as if not sure if she'd heard Nyima correctly. "Uh, you want to cook something, your grace? I would be happy to fix something for you."
"I appreciate the offer," Nyima replied politely, "but it's actually more about the experience. My friend and I want to cook something ourselves. If now is a bad time, we can come back later."
The cook shook her head. "No, your worship. This is your kitchen. Any time you want to use it, it is at your disposal. I will clear my girls out of here." She turned and began ordering the serving girls to clean up their spaces, snapping her fingers at them to hurry. Nyima and Sera waited as all the other women left.
As the head cook was about to leave, Nyima stopped her and whispered, "Could I ask you for one more thing?"
"Of course, your worship. Anything."
"Would you happen to have a cookie recipe I could borrow?"
"Um… cookies, your worship?"
"Yes, I know it's a little odd. Do you have a recipe?"
"Um, yes, I do. I'll fetch it for you." She bustled over to a small wooden box on one of the counters and rifled through a small stack of cards within. She pulled one out and gave it to the Inquisitor.
Nyima took it with a nod of her head and said, "Thank you so much. I appreciate it. I'll leave it on top of the box for you when we're finished."
"Of course, your grace. Take all the time you want." She curtsied again and exited the kitchen.
Nyima turned to Sera and held up the card with the recipe. "Well, step one accomplished."
Sera snatched the card from her and then gave a less than elegant curtsy. "Of course, your graceful worshipness," she teased.
Rolling her eyes, Nyima turned her attention to the rest of the kitchen. It occurred to her that this was probably her first time ever stepping foot into a kitchen to actually make something. She could remember scampering in and out of the kitchens on her family's estate when she was just a kid, begging the cooks for treats. Later, when she was older, she would sometimes sneak out through the kitchens; the servants liked her well enough to keep her comings and goings secret from her parents. But she'd never spent much time in a kitchen before. She really didn't know her way around.
"Um, so what does the card say to do?" she asked.
Reading, Sera answered, "Hm, first there's a list of things we need. Eggs, butter, flour, sugar…" She trailed off and then said, "Shite, this is a lot of stuff. Where do we find it?"
Nyima shrugged. "I'm sure it's all in here somewhere. Let's start looking." They split up and fumbled about the kitchen like two blind people, checking every container or drawer or cupboard until they had cobbled together all the ingredients. They argued briefly about how to determine what a cup was or a teaspoon and how they were supposed to mix all the ingredients together, but eventually they were making progress.
As they worked, Nyima asked, "So, what was this Lady Emmald like?"
Sera scrunched up her face, and for a second Nyima feared that she had overstepped the bounds and that Sera would refuse to answer the question. But then Sera said, "She worked a lot. Liked numbers and counting and stuff. Everything always had to be perfect. Everything fit into its own box." She shrugged and added, "I tried to be like that for a while, you know? Thought that if I fit into the box she wanted that she'd…" Shaking her head, Sera let out a frustrated growl. "Ugh, this is stupid. We shouldn't talk about this. She's dead, so it doesn't matter anymore."
But Nyima decided to push a little further. She knew that it might backfire and Sera might retreat back into her shell, but now was as good a time as any to ask. "You thought it'd be easier if you fit in? That she'd treat you like her real daughter?"
Sera scowled and forcefully cracked an egg on the side of the mixing bowl. "I don't know," she mumbled. "Didn't work anyway. I wasn't one of them. I was too elfy, too low-born. More like a dog or something. She could treat me like her kid when she felt like it, but I wasn't really. I didn't fit into the box right."
In her mind's eye, Nyima saw a younger version of Sera trying so hard to fit into the noble lifestyle. Learning to read and write in an effort to impress Lady Emmald. Trying to be quiet and well-behaved. Not understanding why she could never go to the balls or talk to the guests who came to the estate. Her only source of company the serving staff at the house, but even then not belonging because of her tie to Lady Emmald. Trapped between two different realms of society and yet not fitting into either. It must have been a lonely existence, especially for a child.
"How long were you with her?" Nyima asked.
"Dunno," Sera answered with a shrug. "A few years. She was already getting sick when she took me in. Guess that's why she did it. Wanted to play mum for a while to see what it was like."
They were both quiet for a little while, and then Nyima said, "Well, for what it's worth, Sera, I'm glad you don't fit into the box. All my life I've known people who did, and they were boring. I like you the way you are."
Sera gave her a sideways glance and grinned. "You always have some honey-words ready, yeah? That how you get other women into your bed?"
Nyima felt color rising in her cheeks and she said, "I'm being honest. I've never met anyone like you before, and I like that about you. People like Lady Emmald are everywhere. But there's only one of you."
Sera didn't say anything, but she did smile. Shortly, they had a batch of cookie dough in front of them and Sera pinched off a piece, rolling it between her fingers. "Is it supposed to be like this?" she asked skeptically. "All weird and sticky?"
"I don't know," Nyima replied. "I've never done this before, remember?" She also broke off some of the dough and tasted it. "Doesn't taste bad," she added.
Sera copied her. "Hm, yeah, not bad. So, now what?"
Nyima checked the card. "Ok, apparently we just put spoonfuls on a tray and put it in the oven and wait for a few minutes." She started putting blobs of the batter onto the tray in front of them, wondering how big the spoonfuls were supposed to be. She looked over to see what Sera was doing and saw the other woman giggling as she put two huge mounds of batter side by side on the tray.
"Look!" Sera laughed. "Tit cookies!"
Nyima tried to scowl at first but couldn't help laughing. "Really, Sera?"
"What? Jealous? They are beautiful, aren't they?"
"Cookies aren't supposed to look like that."
"The whole point of this was to make me like cookies again, yeah? Well, I definitely like tit cookies more than pride cookies."
"I thought we were calling them 'us cookies.'"
Sera looked down at Nyima's chest, then grinned and shrugged. "Still seems like it fits. Both got tits, yeah?"
Nyima rolled her eyes. "And here I thought this was supposed to be a symbol of our friendship or something."
"What? I like your tits. See, like means we're friends, right? They could be bigger sure, but I still like 'em. That's what friends say."
Laughing, Nyima said, "No, friends don't exactly say that."
"You're impossible to please."
Nyima finished putting the batter out on the tray and slid it into the oven. They stood, staring at the great iron contraption.
"So, we wait now?" Sera asked.
"Guess so."
For a while they just watched the oven, leaning against the counter with their arms crossed, and then Sera said, "Alright, fair's fair. What's your mum like?"
Nyima tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. "My mother? She's… normal, I guess. My parents work a lot. I told you before that our power comes from horses. My parents are very interested in expanding the family power. My father handles business. My mother handles the politics. She's very religious, so she does most of her politicking within the Chantry. If she wasn't at the Chantry, then she'd be entertaining its highest ranked members at the estate."
"You like them?"
"They're not bad people," Nyima answered noncommittally.
"Yeah, but do you like them?" Sera pressed.
Nyima rubbed the back of her neck. "They… um… I guess they are sort of like Lady Emmald in that they want everything and everyone to have its place. In my family, you either serve the family or you don't have a place in it. And… well… I don't really have a place in mine."
"Wha'zat mean?"
Nyima considered how to explain, frowning as she thought. Finally, she said, "You know how many brothers and sisters I have, Sera? Five. So, there's six of us total. And to my parents, all six of us have jobs to do in order to serve the family. No one gets a pass. Marc is easy. He's the oldest, so he inherits and becomes the main branch of the family. My second oldest brother, he preps to take over secondary property and just in case something happens to Marc. My older sister prepares to marry the highest ranking nobleman that my parents can arrange. Me? At least I get the choice of following after my sister and marrying some lord I don't even like, or joining the Chantry. But neither of those things appeals to me. My younger brother and sister get essentially the same choice. Difference is they're both willing to play along. I'm not. I've always been the only real rebel in my family. Therefore, I don't fit into the family. I'm useless to them. So, mostly, I just don't feel like I belong with them. And because I don't fit in… it makes it hard to like them."
Sera studied Nyima for a moment and then smiled. "Guess we both don't fit in the box, huh?"
Nyima smiled back. "I guess we don't."
The cookies still didn't look done, so Nyima turned back to the counter and looked at the mess that they'd made. Utensils and bowls and ingredients lay strewn all over the place. Perhaps she should clean up a little. As she was about to start, however, she realized that she'd set her right hand in a pile of flour and quickly lifted it. The white powder stood out starkly against the chestnut brown of her hand and she had a sudden idea. Grinning, she looked at Sera, who was still watching the oven. Without warning she smacked Sera in the face – not hard, but enough to leave a flour handprint on her cheek.
Sera sputtered and pushed her hand away. "Andraste's tits! What was that for?"
Nyima laughed and quickly ran to the far end of the counter, well out of Sera's reach. The other woman touched her face and when she looked at her fingers saw the white powder. She narrowed her eyes at Nyima and growled, "You little… I am so going to stomp you!" She placed both hands into the flour pile and then took off after the Inquisitor. Nyima laughed and ran, trying to keep a counter between herself and the other woman at all times. For a while that worked well and Sera ran back and forth futilely trying to get to Nyima. Then, when she grew frustrated, Sera jumped up onto the counter and lunged at her. Nyima yelped in surprise as Sera tackled her and pushed her up against the wall.
With a triumphant shout Sera smeared the flour on her hands all over Nyima's face until the Inquisitor sputtered, "Stop! You win!"
"Ha!" Sera exclaimed. "Shows you!"
Wiping away some of the flour on her own face, Nyima looked at the handprint on Sera's cheek and began laughing again. "I got you pretty good though."
"Cheap shot."
"You're just mad that you didn't think of it first," Nyima teased, savoring the exaggerated pout on Sera's face. Then, in an offer of truce, she added, "Here, I'll help you wipe it off." Nyima reached up and began to wipe away the mark with her thumb and tips of her fingers, and then suddenly stopped. It occurred to her how intimate the moment must look from the outside. Sera still had her cornered against the wall and Nyima stood essentially stroking her face. Sera's skin felt soft and warm beneath her fingers and Nyima was instantly hyper aware of how close the rest of her body was. Her eyes flickered down to Sera's lips for a brief second, noting how full and pink they were, but she forced herself to look back up at Sera's eyes. That wasn't much better. She realized for the first time that Sera had strikingly beautiful, gray eyes. She'd never thought of gray as a warm color, but now she couldn't think of a better word to describe it. In fact, as Nyima looked at Sera now, she thought that the other woman was almost heartbreakingly gorgeous. A sudden desire to run her hands through Sera's hair, to lean in and kiss her, arose in Nyima's chest and she had to fight to push it back down. She really did care about Sera and the last thing she wanted to do was throw that away because she suddenly realized that she might also like to get in her pants.
Nyima knew herself. Knew that she was just as quick to discard a romance as she was to pursue it. It'd served her well in the past – the tendency to not get emotionally involved. She could go to a ball, charm a bard or a serving girl into her bed, and then sever ties before anything ever got back to her family. And in a world where the seasons changed and players in the Great Game came and went, it was best not to be sentimental.
But Sera deserved better than that. She'd tried to love another person, someone who should have been like a mother, only to come up empty handed. She'd trusted Nyima with that part of herself and now the Inquisitor had a chance to show her that putting her faith in someone else wasn't always in vain. The last thing she wanted to do was take advantage of Sera's trust or her vulnerability. To be a good friend she needed to put Sera above her own desires.
Nyima had been staring at Sera for quite some time. The air between them felt thick, and Nyima felt the desire to lean in and kiss Sera rise up in her chest again. After wrestling that back down, she went to say something but found her throat suddenly dry. Panicking slightly, she surprised herself when a curse managed to slip through her lips. "Shit."
Sera furrowed her brow in confusion and Nyima had to think fast. Then, she remembered the cookies in the oven and said, "Uh, shit. We forgot about the cookies. We should check on them." She edged away from the wall and out of their precariously close position. Hurrying over to the oven she looked inside to see that the cookies were brown, maybe slightly burnt around the edges. She grabbed a cloth and pulled out the tray, setting it down on the counter. Sera joined her and they both stared down at their creation.
"Doesn't look like shite," Sera pointed out.
"True," Nyima agreed. "They might have been in a minute too long, but they definitely look right."
They admired their handiwork for a few minutes while the cookies cooled, and then Sera picked her tit cookie up off the tray, grinned, and held it out between them. "Want half'a my tits?"
Nyima smiled. "I thought you'd never ask." She tugged at the other end, splitting the cookie in two. They both eyed their halves, a little unsure, looked back at each other, and nodded. At the same time they each took a bite.
Nyima was relieved to find that it wasn't half bad. Maybe not the best cookie she'd ever had in her life, but for two people who'd never cooked anything before it was a freaking miracle. Sera also looked pleased and continued to eat her cookie. "This is great!" she said. "We actually did it!"
Nodding, Nyima continued to eat as well. "So, do you think you can like cookies again?"
Sera shrugged. "Dunno. But I like 'us cookies' or 'tit cookies' or whatever we're calling them. I like that we made them. Together."
Nyima smiled. "I like them too. Maybe next time we'll make a whole bunch, drag everyone out onto the roof, and then shower them with tit cookies!"
Sera's eyes lit up with excitement. "That would be legend, yeah? And Cassandra would hate it. It would be great!" Sera finished eating her cookie and then said, "Hey, listen. Thanks for doing this. I know it was kind of daft. But it felt good, yeah?"
Flashing a warm smile, Nyima answered, "It was fun, Sera. Your daft ideas usually are. I'll make cookies with you anytime."
