Unable to remain in that room any longer, she slipped out the door, her sharp ears alert to the quiet sounds of the castle around her. She who knew what it was to be used, knew and used both of her dearest friends anyway. She doubted she deserved such comfort, for what she had done. Still, those she called her closest friends, and she had nowhere to turn. At least Shale would profess complete indifference. Zevran perhaps wouldn’t judge, but could he resist a jibe? Sten would not be able to resist voicing his disgust, and Oghren would make a joke of it. Wynne’s disapproval would be palpable, but resigned, while Leliana’s would be sharp. That would be cruel, cruel to him to have others know what he did to save her life, to save his own, to bear the brunt of their judgment.
She would not, could not, let anyone else know. But stillness was not an option, not while she waited. She had learned as child how to be still, how to hide, and she wished she could hide now, hide from what she had done, what she had begged Alistair to do against every and all inclinations he had save one: protecting her. Stone walls, stone floor, the only softness in the room a narrow bed, and that was barely better than the stone beneath her feet. The room had no windows, and Caitwyn couldn’t breathe, not in this dark, closed in space. Perhaps not as polished as I would like, but I wrote this in a two hour rush to get it out of my head. Much love to everyone on r/dragonage for their support, to /u/buffsea for kind of asking for this, and a return on inspiration for /u/rachaar and their fic about Natia waiting out the Ritual with Leliana for company. Takes place after my interpretation of Morrigan and Alistair and the Dark Ritual. Because some ideas don't leave you alone.
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