Of course she would wake up. Unsure how much sleep she had, she detangled herself from her lover, carefully removing herself from the legs that were twisted in hers.
Alistair was still flat on his back snoring softly, but as she slowly edged out of their bed he stirred. "Hmmfph?" Was muttered. She had been with him long enough to translate.
"Can't sleep. Go back to bed, I'm going to my study," and leant down to kiss him briefly. Distantly she felt her ribs twinge, the pain settling to a dull ache instead of the stabbing annoyance it was previously.
"Mmm. Don't be there all night," and he rolled over to her side of the bed. She was gratified to see him pick up the pillow she was sleeping on and pull it closer to him, then rolled her eyes as he started to snore slightly again.
Carefully she fumbled in the dark for her clothes, putting on a pair of breeches and a dressing gown. It was possibly the most feminine thing she owned, peach silk and embroidered with flowers, a Satinalia gift from Alistair. It was the one 'frippery' she allowed herself to keep, despite the overwhelming impracticality of such a garment.
Pulling it closer to herself she padded down the chilly corridors, jogging slightly to head to her study, closing the door as soon as she entered. Sereda headed to the fire and poked the dying embers, adding more wood to the flickering flames. On nights like this where the shutters blocked the night sky and the orange light of the fire was the only illumination of the room, it was almost like being in Orzammar.
Almost, but not quite. The statue of her Father stared at her from his position of the fireside, shadows dancing briefly into the etched stone of his face. Distantly she found herself trailing a finger along the straight lines of his nose, feeling such a stab of longing and nostalgia that her chest hurt.
Sereda pressed a hand to her collarbone to stop herself from calling out, but soon she found herself sobbing. Collapsed by the dirty, cold ash of the hearth she finally allowed herself to cry. It was the last thing to break her that day, and she knew it took some time coming.
She could not escape the ghost of her family any longer. It wasn't that she was a Paragon; the politics that came with that she could deal with easily. It was the overshadow of her brothers that was stabbing her and kept her from returning, the shame she thought her Father had from her exile. Sereda allowed herself to be manipulated, her hand held for her while playing Bhelen's game.
All she wanted to do was bring glory and honour to her house and her people as a commander and not a politician. As a child she daydreamed of exploring lost thaigs and cities, bringing back treasures and history from the Deep Roads, a reclamation of all that was lost. Juvenile daydreams perhaps, but as the indulged middle child she did not associate herself with the dirty machinations of her family's politics; that was Trian's job, not hers.
Once she had cried herself out Sereda rose and wiped her face, finding the Antivan brandy she hid from Oghren in a crate marked "paperwork." A small glass calmed her nerves, and she was in a better place to try and work things through.
The reports mentioned that the Queen's men had been turned away at the gates, her boon useless and for nothing. Gorim wrote with some concern the agitated state of the other Castes, and that the Carta had been reborn despite Jarvia's death with a new boss that called himself the Fellcat, all while the darkspawn still lurked under the stone of her people, a constant and daily threat.
All in all, her old city was a mess. Harrowmont was making sure things ticked over traditionally, a slow erosion like the hottest of larva against the softness of limestone. Reluctantly she allowed herself to think that maybe Bhelen was right, that their society needed a violent and vicious restart.
She was incapable of playing politics with blood on her hands, however. She would use other means of leverage to get what she wanted, even if it would seem unfair by the standards of the surface.
Sereda still felt that Aeducan was not her family, despite her name; she could not trust Bhelen, considering what he had done to his own siblings, and wondered if he even poisoned their Father. No, the crown did not belong to him, and gladly his blood spilt on the Council's floor from her blades.
Calmly she began to write a list of all the favours she could call in amongst the deshyrs, all the news she knew that could be construed as blackmail, piecing together information like beads on a string. It would take some time, but perhaps she could push through somehow. And Gorim had written recently that Harrowmont was ill again…
A knock at the door alerted her and hastily she put her work in the drawer. "Come in," she said briskly, tightening the dressing gown around herself firmly.
Sigrun edged in expectantly, a bundle of wiry energy. Bright blue eyes swept the room to focus on all the shiny and pretty things she could see before coming to rest on Sereda.
"Something wrong, Sigrun?" She asked wryly, quill in her hands still.
The other woman shrugged. "I just saw the light from the door. You want some company?"
Wordlessly Sereda put the brandy bottle on the table and got another cup. "Sure," and poured them both a measure.
Sereda thought of something before toasting the other woman, finger raised. Rummaging through one of the more recent crates from Orzammar she pulled out an etched silver and gold globe, good for nothing but a dust collector. She threw it at the other rogue and it was caught easily.
"Commander?" Sigrun asked, unsure.
"Keep it." She was given the widest of smiles, and Sigrun shyly touched the item reverently.
"Thank you, it's pretty."
"Once you work out what it's for, let me know; Stone if I can. Anyway," and she lifted her goblet. "To us,"
"To us," and the other woman chinked her cup against hers. "What's keeping you up? Shouldn't you be in bed with that man of yours?"
She laughed and sipped her drink. "I could say the same about you."
Sigrun flustered at her words, almost spilling her drink. "I, uh. That is…"
Sereda raised her eyebrows and hoped Anders was playing fair. "Sigrun?" She asked quietly.
"How long have you been with Alistair?" She blurted out, nervous energy spilling from her suddenly.
It was an odd question to ask, but not as out of the blue as Sereda guessed. "Six years, I suppose," working it out quickly in her head.
"That's a lot," Sigrun relpied. "I mean, you have history, right? I mean, you seem to..."
She raised her eyebrows curiously. "Well, yes. Where are you going with this?"
The other woman took a gulp of her drink then coughed as the alcohol burnt her throat. "So if, say, Alistair ever cheated on you…"
At those words she started laughing. "What on…?" She caught the seriousness of Sigrun's face and she decided to indulge her. "If he ever cheated on me, and this is a big if, by the way, I'm not sure what I'd do. Forgiveness would come at a hard price, that's for sure." Distantly she thought of Morrigan and the deal the three of then had made, and a pit in her stomach widened. "Why do you ask?" She said quietly.
Sigrun put the cup down and fidgeted with her new gift. "It's nothing. Forget I asked."
"Bronto shit," Sereda replied starkly. "What mess have you gotten yourself in?"
She said one word in reply, but it was enough. "Oghren."
It really was not the answer she was expecting, and she fell back into her chair with a thump. "Well. This complicates matters."
Sigrun flustered slightly at her words, unsure how to react. "I'm sorry Commander, it's just-"
She silenced the other woman with a sharp gesture. "I didn't say that as a Commander. I said that as a friend. To the both of you."
The other woman fumbled awkwardly with globe in her hands, guilty then. "I don't know what to do," she replied quietly. "It was just a tumble, a very drunken one. I know he has Felsi. I am aware it's Oghren, I know this. Oh, Stone. I just… He started talking about his kid and his ex-wife and before I knew it we were both drunk and I felt so sorry for him and…. And…"
"Don't go thinking you can change him, Sigrun. Because you can't." Sereda put her chin on her hands and looked at her. "Felsi tried that, remember? Look where it got her. I've tried. He has issues as deep as the Roads themselves, and all the booze in the world can't fix them."
"I know. I do know, I mean. He's an obnoxious arse most of the time-"
"Most?"
Sigrun shuffled awkwardly in her seat, restless again. "Okay, all. But…"
Of course she knew how the other woman felt. "I understand. Your head is telling you, 'this will only end in trouble. It's not going to work, that there will be repercussions for your actions,' but… You carry on, regardless. Just because."
"Just because," Sigrun agreed sadly. "It happened a week ago. I know it's wrong, and… I actually like Felsi, it was a stupid thing to do. It was just a… One night thing, but there's a part of me that wants to fix him, and he was there and a dwarf. He gets that part of us, being here and not there, you know?"
Here and not there. "I understand," she said in her hands, the words hitting her harder then she thought.
"And I wanted to make him better. As a friend. What I did was bad, I know."
"What you did, hmm? Did you force him into bed?"
"I… no. Actually he had to talk me into-"
Sereda laughed cynically and reached for the brandy bottle again, pouring them both another measure. "Right. Don't shift the blame on you, there were two people there. Or was it that unmemorable?"
The smaller woman shrugged, face red. "We woke up naked. I think we did something. I think. Uh… Well. This is a mess, isn't it?"
"Unfortunately, yes. What do you want to do about it?"
That was easy for Sigrun to answer. "Run away. I can't exactly face him right now and there's Ande- uh, there's other complications…"
She finally mentioned something Sereda had been guessing at for the past few weeks and the Commander hid a smile behind her hands. "I'm sure."
"Do you.. Do you mind if I disappear for a bit? I don't really want to stay around here much. Surface makes things messy."
"Oh? And here's me thinking things were so much more simple." Sereda thought of something she could give Sigrun to do to stop her from bolting away, probably back to Deep Roads themselves to distance herself. "As luck would have it, I've got something that needs sorting. Far away from here."
"Oh?" The other woman perked her ears at that, bright blue eyes vibrant suddenly.
"You are aware that Anders is heading back to Denerim, yes? Well, something needs investigating near the Wending Woods. As you know Velanna is visiting her clan, I would usually ask her to accompany Anders, but… Well, the merchants are reporting something along the lines of werewolves. Could be complete nonsense of course…"
She wondered if Sigrun could see through her duplicity. While the report did need to be followed through, it was still only a small hook to tempt her out of running away. "Okay, I'll do it."
"Wonderful! I'll let Anders know. But I'm sure you'll tell him first, considering… Well, considering." and she let the accusation hang in the air.
To her credit, Sigrun laughed. "Been listening to Keep gossip again, Commander?"
Sereda raised an eyebrow, letting the matter slide. "Perhaps not. Well, it seems Nathaniel is in charge for this month. I have to head to Orzammar."
The other rogue's eyes twinkled. "I forget you're a Paragon, I'm sorry." Sigrun bowed to her, and Sereda bit her tongue at the teasing, despite the gesture being a good natured one.
"Grey Warden first, of course."
"Of course."
A log collapsed against the grill of the fire, the only sound in the room. "Well, I should get back to bed. Thanks for the company, Sigrun."
The other woman rose and tossed the golden globe easily into the other hand, a pretty gesture that threw light across the room. "When will you be leaving to head to Orzammar?"
Sereda thought how she would tell Alistair, and if he would even come with her. "Soon. Next few days, maybe."
"Maybe I'll see you, maybe I won't, then?"
She closed the door to her study and locked it, slipping the key in her dressing gown pocket. "Oh I'm sure we'll see each other again soon enough." Effortlessly she hugged Sigrun then, pressing a kiss on her heavily tattooed cheek. "Sigrun, I suggest you talk to the other person about the … matter we talked about. I assume you don't want to pursue it further?" She said in an undertone.
Even in the dark she could see Sigrun's flustering demeanour. "Not in a million years," she replied miserably.
"Then let him know it. And I suggest you tell your… Other person what happened. Things like this fester and build if you ignore them long enough."
Sigrun turned her face to hide her reaction, but Sereda hoped her words helped. "Good night, Commander," the other woman replied, finally slipping into the shadows to dart to her rooms.
Sereda made the short distance to the bedroom she shared and noticed light spill under the gap of the door. Did no one sleep in this forsaken place? As she opened the door she saw Alistair sit up and read by the light of an oil lamp, a brighter light then the flickering, guttering candle they usually used.
"Good time?" He asked, chewing a pear distantly. She saw a plate of food on the bedside and helped herself to a piece of fruit.
"If by good you mean sorting through Orzammar politics, then sure. Great."
He put his book to one side and put the half eaten pear on top, oddly thoughtful. "I heard voices there when I raided the pantry. Thought I'd leave you to it."
Carefully she removed her clothing and snuck into bed, hoping he would be warm enough to starve off the chill she now felt. "Hmm. Sigrun was up."
"Ah." Casually he put an arm around her and felt at her ribs, and she hit his wandering fingers again.
"I'm fine."
"Don't lie to me," he said, pulling her in closer. "And I don't mean about this," and he accented his words by stroking the side of her. "What did those vipers from your city want? You've been stewing on it all day."
Your city. "I have to go home," she said quietly. "I have to sort things out, I've left it too long."
He pursed his lips before speaking, trying to think of the words that wouldn't offend her. Instead he settled for the short version. "Why?"
"It's a mess. A whole mess. And mostly, partly, it's my fault."
He tilted her chin up and forced her to look at him. "It's not. You are not responsible for each and everyone back at Orzammar, you know. You left that life, you told me. Why this now?"
She lifted herself up slightly so could lean against him, forehead against his. "I still have a duty."
"And what about your duty here?" She thought of the Keep and Amaranthine, both places recovering still from the attack a few years back. If she was honest she felt a spare part to the machinations here, a player reciting her lines like a parrot.
"This place really doesn't need us, we're just… Here, because it's something to do. I will never forget what I am, Alistair. But my people… We're killing ourselves. Maybe I can try and help, do something… So we won't die."
He kissed her gently, trying to understand the part of her that separated them. "I think those thoughts, you know. All the time. What would happen if I was king. What would happen if things were different, if I was on that throne in Denerim and not here, with you."
It wasn't the first time he mentioned it, and she felt a stab of guilt. "Do you regret it?"
"Never." He kissed her again, aware of the relief she was showing.
"Selfish," she said quietly. "I'm a selfish person. It's like you and I… We can take the money and run, and watch the world burn."
They laid side by side then, noses almost touching. "Do you want to return to stay in Orzammar?"
She thought of him, thought of their life, wondering how she could make it fit in the dealings of her kind's politics and the morality of the caste system. "Go home to live?" She darted her gaze away, thinking things through.
"Where is home to you?" He asked when she didn't answer.
It was so easy to say because it was true, but it was such a big thing to say that she was struggling, words stuck in her throat like a fishbone. "Where do you think?" She managed offhandedly, finally lifting her head to face him again.
"I know," and trailed a finger along a cheekbone. "Oh love, what a mess."
"If you know anything about me at all then you know I will not leave it alone. Not when there is something I can do."
The words hung in the air, sinking into him slowly. "I… understand," he said finally. "So. When do we leave?"
She lifted her head up in a snap, hands suddenly around his neck. "You're serious?"
Alistair rolled his eyes. "What did you think, that I'd say here and watch Oghren light his own farts while Anders attempts to sleep his way around the castle staff? Brilliant idea, that."
Sereda laughed slightly, heart full. "You won't be saying that after a week of negotiations with the deshyrs, trust me."
"I'll take my chances. I'll be your shield for you, as always."
She instantly groaned at his words, shaking him slightly in frustration. "You're so… Ugh, that was horrible, Alistair," and she screwed her face up in distaste. "Where do you come up with this stuff? Is there a book of clichéd, romantic nonsense you read and you think, 'oh I know. I'll tell Sereda this, she'll love it.'"
She could see the smug grin even as he dimmed the oil lamp and settled back down with her. "Lies. You love my romantic nonsense, don't lie."
"Shield indeed," she muttered. Her naked body was pulled into his, a kiss placed on her brow. Gently sleep found her, for once easy and painless, his body curled around hers protectively. It was enough for her, even if it was never perfect. While she could not have the best of both worlds, she certainly would try.
Because that's all the pair of them could do. All the desyhrs, Paragons and ancestors themselves would never make her give up the part of her that Alistair held, no matter how hard they tried.
It was her life, and she would damn well live it.