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It was still dark when he first. The only light was from a crack under the door and a banked fire in the bedroom's hearth. His eyes adjusted and he could see a stone pitcher and a glass next to the bed. He pulled off his shirt, tossing it over the end of the bed and poured a glass of water, cool and minty. Leaning back in bed, he stared at the door then decided to see what she was up to.
Opening the door to the study, he found her behind the desk, her lap buried in a small mound of clothes she was currently pulling a needle and thread through. She had changed back to her leather pants and a similar tunic from earlier in the day. On the desk the leather-wrapped bundle of papers was opened and spread out before her. She was reading them intently by lantern light, and didn't notice him standing there. He saw she already had their gear bundled up and placed by the door. "So when do you sleep?"
She started and cursed, having jabbed the needle into her finger. She turned to glare at him, and did a double-take: she wasn't expecting to see him bare-chested and barefoot. Shaking her head for focus, she turned back to the sewing, "Why are you awake, you hardly slept for two hours?"
A smile crept slowly across his face, "Hard to sleep when you're being choked."
"Choked?" She still wouldn't look at him.
"The shirt."
"Ah, well, here's a new one, should fit better and it's clean." She tossed him the piece of clothing and made a point of reading some more as she readied the next piece of clothing. "You should go back to bed; we have a long day tomorrow."
Alistair draped the shirt over his shoulder, sauntered over to one of the chairs in front of the desk and sprawled in it, eyes dancing with mischief, "So did Eona include the letter?"
Calitae viciously stabbed the fabric, "She did." The awkward daughter of a bann seemed to have grown into a gracious lady, her letter confirming what Alistair had told explained. "You left out the part where she fell in love with you." She looked up finally as he squirmed in his seat, mischievousness nowhere to be seen.
"I tried, I truly did. Mother of my children, queen to my king, she was everything I should want. But she wasn't you." His voice was heavy with sorrow. "You're very hard to forget, you know." She returned his solemn look, understanding completely, but remained silent. "I know you think I'm doing the wrong thing. Lots of people do. They forget my father left the throne for a while at least. And they usually haven't met Duncan and Ava; I swear when those two work together, they can see through a man's soul." He smiled wistfully at her.
"We are both very selfish people, Alistair. I know I should send you back to your wife, but I know Ventris is worried about me and could use the company." She could see he was about to speak and interrupted, "Here. Clean pants that should fit better as well." She threw the pants at his face and started gathering up the papers. "You should go back to sleep, a few more hours until day break. Bella is going to send up some food so we can avoid the mess hall."
He pulled the pants off his head and started laughing when he saw she had stitched 'king of Fereldan' in the seam, "No leaving my title in my other pants, eh?" He stood up, "Thank you for the clothes. I didn't know you could sew."
She chuckled as she went and tucked the sewing kit into one of the packs, "Just because you've never seen me do it, doesn't mean I can't. Wynne made me learn how when you kept bringing her your clothes in need of repair."
He grinned boyishly, "So what are you going to do? When is the last time you slept?"
"I caught a nap last night." She grunted, "Off with you, before Fifth comes back to steal the bed. She thinks it's hers."
"Fifth?" He stopped at the door, watching her move around the room.
"The latest mabari that has decided to imprint on me. We'll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow." She kept her hands busy.
He could see she was tired, even if she wouldn't admit it to herself. "Tae." His voice was low but insistent; he was the only one who used that pet name.
Mentally steeling herself, Calitae turned to face him as he held out a hand, "Just come relax for a bit. No funny business...not unless you want me to." His sing-song tone made it clear he was joking.
She put her hands on her hips, but she was blushing, "What, are you scared of the dark now? Need to be tucked in?"
"Oh yes. You've found me out. I'll need some warm milk and a dolly too."
"Put your shirt on."
"What, don't trust my intentions are honorable?" Knowing better, he was already pulling the shirt over his head.
"More like I don't trust mine." Calitae grinned wickedly at him before extinguishing the lantern. She brushed by him into the bedroom while his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
Moments later, she was in the crook of his arm, head leaning on his shoulder, her hand curled lightly on his chest. He played with the end of her braid in joyful silence, now that the bells were removed; up close he could feel it was many tiny braids tied into one larger one, making for a very strong rope of hair. He shook his head at the thought of the damage she could probably do with it – had done with it. Alistair could feel her relaxing next to him and before too long her breathing had deepened. He closed his eyes, kissed the top of her head, and breathed in deeply; he fell asleep to the scent of wild roses and wood smoke.