"Mely."
Amelle groaned and rolled over, pulling the pillow over her head to drown out the sound.
"Mely!"
She'd been having a pleasant dream. Something about… there had been blackberries. Perfect, sun-warmed, ripe blackberries. And an elf. A very particular elf.
"Amelle!"
Blindly, Amelle threw the pillow at the voice, and was rewarded by a grunt and a muttered curse. But her tormenter refused to let her go back to sleep. "Amelle, wake up!"
Opening her eyes, Amelle found the room still completely dark. She blinked, and a moment later Kiara's face appeared above her, grinning maniacally. Amelle swallowed the urge to blast her sister into the next Age and asked, "What, Kiri? It's the middle of the blighted night."
"I know," Kiara replied, needlessly whispering—now that Amelle was awake it wasn't as though anyone else was nearby to be disturbed. "Come on."
"Is it life or death?"
"No," Kiara replied, a hint of a frown pulling at her lips. "Of course not. I'd've dumped you out of bed long before this if it was. But it's good. And you have to come now."
"If it's not life or death I want to go back to sleep."
Kiara pouted. "You'll miss it."
"Sleep? Yes, yes I will."
Kiara snorted, poking Amelle lightly in the ribs. A moment later, she turned the poke into a tickle, and Amelle was once again nearly overcome with the desire to do her sister serious injury. "Mely, Mely, Mely," Kiara sang. "Wake up!"
"I am awake. What I want is to be unawake."
"Would I risk your wrath if it wasn't worth it, Mely?"
Amelle pushed herself up on one elbow and glared at her sister. Kiara was armored, and draped with a black cloak. She could see the telltale bulge of the bow at her back. "You're sure this isn't life or death?" Amelle asked, nodding her head at her sister's attire.
Kiara grinned. "Oh, this? No. I was just… out for a walk. Which is when I found the thing I want to show you. If you will please get up."
"You go out for walks in the middle of the night? Armed and armored?"
Kiara wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Yes, well, Sebastian gets tetchy if I attempt to go anywhere unarmed or unarmored."
Amelle snorted lightly, even as she pulled her legs from the delicious warmth of the blankets, hoisting herself to the edge of the bed. She refused, however, to put her feet on the cold floor—she could feel the chill tickling the bottoms of her feet. "Why do I feel like tetchy is the understatement of the decade?"
Kiara waved dismissively. "Oh, probably because it is. But we've come to an arrangement."
Narrowing her eyes, Amelle sent out a flash of swift magic to rekindle the flames in the hearth, and another to light several of the candles. Kiara blinked in the abrupt glow and then smiled. "Does this mean you're coming?"
"Kiara, you've made it very clear I don't have a choice in the matter. But I'm not going anywhere until I've got slippers on my feet."
"And a warm cloak. You might think about something other than a nightgown, too, but I won't force you." Kiara searched near the foot of the bed until she found a pair of matching slippers, tossing them Amelle's way.
Amelle arched an eyebrow. "Won't force me?"
"Much."
"That sounds more accurate, thank you."
Disgruntled as she was by the abrupt awakening, it was hard for Amelle not to be caught up in her sister's enthusiasm. It seemed an age since she'd last seen Kiara quite so carefree. If it took being hauled out of bed at an ungodly hour, Amelle was glad at least to be paid in Kiara's smiles. After a moment of firmly telling herself sleep was no longer an option, Amelle pushed herself upright and headed for the wardrobe.
Kiara peeked over her shoulder, scowling. "Andraste's ass, Tasia must be slacking. I only count two dozen gowns in there."
Amelle's laugh startled them both. "And most of them utterly unwearable, if I want to keep my bosom modestly covered at all. Every time she brings me something new, I think it's cut an inch lower at the chest, Kiri. Your maid hates me."
"Hate's a strong word."
"Is not fond?"
Kiara giggled. "Well, you're a challenge. And she does love a challenge."
Amelle gaped at her. "I am not a challenge. What under the Maker's blue sky is wrong with wanting to wear gowns one can get into and out of on one's own? Answer me that, Kiara."
Kiara only smirked. "Oh, you're definitely a challenge. And as long as you continue to be a challenge? Tasia will be unrelenting. Come on. Choose the warmest one and find a cloak. I'll be so upset if we miss it."
"And who wouldn't want to miss freezing her arse off in the middle of the Maker-forsaken night?"
On a raised eyebrow, Kiara only remarked, "Who's tetchy?"
When Amelle was adequately bundled, Kiara peeked into the hallway. "All right," she whispered. "Coast is clear."
"What, no guards? You're asking for Sebastian to upgrade from tetchy to downright cantankerous, Kiri."
Kiara stuck her tongue out and pulled Amelle bodily into the hall. When they reached an intersection, Kiara once again peeked around the corners before shooting a grin over her shoulder.
"I'm not sure if this makes me feel better or worse about the state of the palace guard," Amelle whispered.
Kiara snickered. "And you say I'm not a real rogue. I do know the rotation of the guard, Mely."
"But if you were able to figure it out, doesn't it make sense that an enemy might be able to do the same?"
Kiara nodded, thoughtful. "You're not wrong. See? It will make Sebastian so much less cantankerous once I give him a valid reason for my skulking."
"You two have a strange relationship."
Kiara laughed, and then quickly glanced about to make sure she'd not been overheard. "Why hello, kettle. I'm pot. Awfully black, aren't you?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
With a brief roll of her eyes, Kiara maneuvered them past another hallway, and up a seemingly endless flight of stairs. Just when Amelle was preparing to tell her sister there was nothing in all of Thedas worth climbing so many bloody steps, they reached the top. With a heave of her shoulder, Kiara shifted a trapdoor open, pushing it up and out, revealing the night sky above.
They were atop one of the palace's many crenellated towers, and though the air was sharp and cold against Amelle's cheeks, it took her no time at all to realize why Kiara had bothered dragging her all this way.
The night was dancing with falling stars. Standing shoulder to shoulder, Kiara looked up, wide-eyed. The night was moonless, but even in the starlight Amelle could see the wonderment on her sister's face. Without looking away from the sky, Kiara said softly, "Do you remember that time—?"
"With Papa," Amelle said. "He woke us all up and hustled us outside and at first we didn't see anything. You whined."
"Loudly and at length, yes. And Carver fell asleep."
"And then the stars started falling."
Kiara sighed, but the sigh was one that seemed to speak of happy memories, and not the sadness that had come after. "We thought it was Papa doing magic."
Amelle wrapped an arm about her sister's waist and pressed herself close. "It was magic. Just not Papa's."
For a long time they stood, eyes turned skyward. "I'm glad you're here, Mely," Kiara said at last.
"Freezing my arse off on a roof in Starkhaven?"
"Of course. What else could I possibly mean?"
Amelle knew precisely what her sister meant, but it didn't need words. "Thanks for waking me up."
She felt Kiara's silent laugh. "Told you it was worth it."
"We'll see if I feel the same way tomorrow afternoon when I've had no sleep," Amelle murmured, knowing very well she would still be grateful.
"Do you want to stay up and watch the sun rise?"
"Like we did with Papa?"
Kiara nodded, and then grinned, her teeth flashing in the darkness. "Except better," she said, drawing a flask from underneath her cloak. "This time I have rum."
