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Just as he stepped around the corner, the door to her room opened and Alesander stuck his head out, "There you are! Come in, ser! I've heard so much about you, my name is Alesander, but everyone just calls me Alder. Uh...can I get you anything? Ser?" He trailed off uncertainly.
Alistair followed his son into the room, unable to take his eyes off the boy to the point of being rude; no wonder he was familiar looking, Alistair had looked at a similar face more than once in a mirror as a young man.
"No, he should be fine - Alistair!" Calitae's voice broke through his fixation and he forced himself to look at her. Her long hair was mostly unbound and wet, and she was giving him a look. He noticed Alesander looking at his "aunt" with a questioning look.
"I'm sorry! You caught me off-guard. I am so happy to meet family of Calitae's and I hope she didn't make me out to seem like a complete bumbling idiot, although I seem to be doing a fine job of that myself." He laughed nervously and looked back at her, "Where did you go? One moment you were there, the next you were gone. And what's this about you not eating? Since when do you lose your appetite?"
The room looked like it was on fire as the last of the sun's rays were caught in the west-facing windows. She was seated at her desk, the strange weights from her braid arranged before her. She had changed into a dark green open-necked sleeveless blouse, the vial of blood visible at her throat. Alesander moved behind her chair and continued helping her braid it.
She shrugged, "It comes and goes, along with the nightmares. Not those nightmares, but enough to put me off my stride. Sleeping indoors usually makes it worse, but I don't want Alder here forgetting what I look like."
She started to turn to smile up at him and was rewarded with a light smack on the top of the head. "Stop moving or it'll be crooked. And I'm not a child anymore, I will understand." She smiled, sadly, at Alistair while their son could not see her face.
Alistair didn't want to end up staring again, so wandered around the room. "What are those? You put them in your hair?" He pointed at the strange objects on the desk. He could see now most were smooth stones with holes drilled through for her hair, the rest were what looked like small bells.
"Hair this long can be impractical when traveling, so I took a page out of the Crows' handbook and made it work for me. Doesn't mean it can't look nice too. The weights mean I'm never weaponless. Alder likes to help on my last night here so we have some time together."
Alistair stared, "You're not serious. You are! That is just morbid! Have you kill- no wait. Don't tell me." He turned away, covering his face with a hand, shaking his head. The pile of stained rocks caught his eye again. "What about these? Is that blood? Please say you're not collecting blood."
"I'm...not collecting blood?" She grinned at his back, "No really, every battle I walk away from, I collect a stone. It's a reminder."
"It's not darkspawn blood is it?"
"No. It's mine. I wouldn't bring darkspawn blood around people. If I wasn't wounded, I put a drop on a rock. More damage, more blood. Healing with magic doesn't always leave scars unless it's a really bad wound, so I made a way to remember." She absentmindedly rubbed at her chest, where he knew she still had the knots of skin from the arrows from the battle in Ostagar. Looking back, it didn't surprise him that Flemeth would purposefully leave someone like Calitae with the scars.
He glanced at Alesander, knowing he was intruding into their private time, but the young man seemed content as he concentrated on his task, stealing glances at their visitor. Turning back Alistair picked up a small carved dragon rearing on its' back legs with a sword sticking out of its' eye. The level of detail was amazing, down to the scales of the beast and the hilt of the sword. "This is fantastic!" He turned back to see the pair break into matching smiles; he wondered if she smiled so little that no one noticed how similar the two were.
"Aunt Cal told me about all your adventures!"
She gave a teasing grin, "Only about a hundred times each."
Alesander came over to stand next to Alistair, and Calitae's chest clenched; while Alder was slightly more delicate seeming, they were so similar, all anyone had to do was look close. Her son searched the shelves and found another carving, holding it out to the man he she selfishly hoped he would never know as father, "And when she told me that you killed a dragon, I could just see it in my mind. So I made it – it's a bookend, here is the other half. She was supposed to give it to you, but she said she never saw you anymore. Now you can have it!" He held out the other carving.
Calitae wouldn't meet his eye so he looked closer at the gift; a figure, he realized it was him, running towards the dragon with Morrigan raising a staff and Calitae letting lose an arrow, Whatdog charging forward next to him. It was an inspiring piece of work. "You made it seem like I did all the work, but this is just amazing. Better late than never, I'm honored to accept your gift, Alder."
Oblivious to the adults, Alesander continued, beaming with pride, "I also carved her a box and her flute."
It dawned on Alistair that there were a few well-made carved toys in the nursery back home that he could never figure out where they came from. "You truly have a talent here. And pardon me for asking, but why 'Alder'? It's not for the carving is it?"
The young man started chuckling, shaking his head, "Oh, no. Alesander is a mouthful to a child, Alder was just easier and it stuck." Not wanting to squander this time with their esteemed guest, he rushed on, "So was it true? Did you really do all those things with my aunt?"
"I just followed where she led, except when she went to the Deep Roads. She made me play politics with the dwarves while she had all the fun."
"My friends are going to be so jealous! You two are like the heroes of legend!"
Calitae muttered as she tied off her softly ringing braid, "That's because Leliana wouldn't keep her mouth shut. Give me those and I'll pack them with your things. You're sleeping here tonight, I never sleep on my last nights and I don't feel like troubling Harl." She glanced out the window, "I'm guessing Gyfford asked you to drag me to The Stand as well. It will be a couple hours before it's in full swing." She paused, thinking. Now that Alistair knew, it seemed unfair to take away what little time he could have with his son. She had to trust him to keep the secret. "Alder, if you can forgive me cutting our time short, I would feel much better if Alistair could test out his new gear before we need to rely on it. Do you two mind going and having a spar?"
The boys' face lit up and he looked at the king hopefully, "I'm game if you would be." Her heart ached; so young and so mature at the same time.
Alistair looked to Calitae with a question in his eyes, she gave a very slight nod, "I would be delighted to spar with you, Alder; I don't believe I have ever faced an arcane warrior before. Where shall I meet you?"
Alesander was already half out the door, "The armory has an area for spars, downstairs!"
Calitae walked over to the empty door and turned back to the man in her room, "You have made his year. Thank you."
He stepped over to her, put his hands on her upper arms and gave her a lingering kiss on the forehead, "No, thank you. I know what you're doing. You don't have to worry about me. What about you?"
She deflected gracefully, "I am going to find Merta. You should go get your armor and brush up on your Templar skills."
"The healer? I thought you said this was a spar!"
She just laughed as she stepped into the hall.