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"What was that all about?" Leaning in the window behind the desk, Alistair gestured at the door with his chin as he pulled off the cowl again. Now that the healer had said something, he realized she did look tired.
Calitae stretched to see her range of mobility, grimacing, "She wants to go with me tomorrow but she's still green enough that she's a liability. She's got potential but until she learns to tap into it, she'll end up a squire forever. Now. You have some answers you owe me, your Majesty."
He gave her a hurt look, "I left that title in my other pants. I can't tell if you're happy to see me or just want to get rid of me. You're the one who disappeared. And never came back. Warden-Commanders should at least show the courtesy of attending their king and fellow Warden once in a while, not to mention you didn't attend a single Landsmeet, Arlessa." He smiled to soften the words.
She practically snarled at the title he had forced on her, leaping out of the chair, "I sent you reports when I was supposed to. And I didn't come to the Landsmeet to keep the peace. They didn't need reminders that you had raised a knife ear to arlessa and they certainly didn't need reason to think that the Gray Wardens were controlling the throne. I dealt with my banns when they need something, otherwise Harl and the banns had it covered."
He frowned and crossed his arms, irritation creeping into his voice, "Yes, well, way to leave that hanging. You do realize that by not attending, you were rubbing salt on open wounds. More than once, I had to convince them that you were the right choice." He saw her looked down in guilt but it quickly replaced by a flash of anger.
By this point, she was facing him aggressively, hands clenched into fists. One hand knifed through the air, "Enough of this. I only did this because you asked as my king. It all worked out and you know I would have done differently if there was cause to." Her tone hardened as she got defensive. "Besides, you're the one who needed to be away from me, I was just making it easier on you." She got even angrier at herself as her voice cracked with the hurt, and turned away, scowling.
He stared at her back for a moment, clenching his jaw. He could see from the way she was standing that she was furious and quickly sliding into stubbornness. Then it struck him that she looked similar to a wounded animal, defending her pain. He felt like a fool for letting it get this bad. Forcing himself to relax, he dropped his arms and settled back on the pillows. He tried again, with a softer tone, "It was not my intention to fight with you - my apologies for catching you off-guard. May I ask you one question before I answer yours?" He hated being so formal with her and longed for the easy familiarity they used to have; he wondered if they ever could have it again.
His words worked, her shoulders slumping as the anger slipped away. She put down a carved figure she had being toying with and rubbed her forehead, "I'm sorry, Alistair. I don't want to fight either. Seeing you again after so long, it's confusing to say the least. So much time has gone by, yet truthfully, sometimes it still feels like yesterday. So yes, I am happy to see you and but I could have gone without this visit." She came over to the desk and poured two glasses of wine; holding one out to him in truce, "What is your question?"
He took a deep drink from the glass to hide the hurt her words caused, then coughed; the wine was much stronger than he was expecting. Calitae snorted as she went to sit back down, this time with the mail and an oilcloth. He watched her hands work, swiftly and efficiently as they cleaned the armor, his head feeling light from the alcohol.
Trying to remember how this scene played out in his head, he recalled the man in the mess hall. Now that she was here in front of him, just a step away, he just had to know, "Who was that, that man you were so friendly with earlier?"