A New Hero

Trust

"Shall I be..." Anjali began, her nose twitching to match the thought, "I'm wondering if I'm going to be run out of town, or find my neck stretched, or get real cozy with a gibbet. It's not so bad if you think to bring a book."

Rosie sputtered out a laugh at the idea, then sighed, "No."

"Are you certain? Because I'm not a fan of royalty shouting anywhere near me."

"Get in line." She glared out at this country that was meant to one day be hers, but what did that mean? What did that promise of blood matter when everyone kept wresting it away from her, because she didn't deserve it? Because it was above her? Because it was dangerous? Well, one day there'd be no one else and Rosamund would be all they had. What then?

A soft hand cupped against Rosie's shoulder and she turned right into Anjali's flickering eyes. By light of day an impishness danced in her deep browns, but under cover of darkness they were wide and looked almost innocent, like a sweet fawn's.

"How are you holding up?" the woman asked, seeming to stare right into her soul.

"Who, me? The princess? The spoiled brat that has to get her way and pitches a fit when she doesn't? Just dandy." Rosie meant it as a distraction, but Anjali's head whipped and her lips pursed.

"Was someone saying that? Accusing you of being..."

"No," Rosie shook her head, cupping her fingers over Anjali's to try and assure her no leaping to her defense was necessary, "Just...something I always have to keep in the back of my head. I'm not me, I'm the crown. The face of Ferelden. And if people see me acting out even for a moment it forever taints the lofted station until it crumbles to dust."

She expected the assassin to sigh, or blow her lips at the enormity of the situation but she brayed a laugh fast. When Rosie whipped over, glaring in confusion, Anjali raced to cover up the next one but didn't quite make it. "Really? You really believe that? That people can't think for even two seconds 'Oh, she's just having a fight with her dad?'"

"If someone spots a single scarlet ribbon flitting through the sky in Rivain, what happens?"

"Panic, shit their drawers, run inside to hide under beds."

"Even if there's a perfectly logical explanation?"

The woman sighed, "All right, ya got me. People are a pain in the ass." Rosie smiled a bit at the admittance. Sure, being a princess meant she got the best. Best clothes, best food, best teaching, best certainty that she'd be taken care of. In exchange her life was broken off into little pieces and shared around the country. Whatever sliver she hoped to keep private for herself kept slipping through her fingers.

"I've never been gladder to turn down my mother," Anjali mumbled, her head tipping to her chest.

At that, Rosie turned fully to her, the princess tipping her hip into the same banister so they could look eye to eye. "Is that why you became an assassin?"

Anjali's head whipped up, the woman seeming to not have meant to say it aloud. A trait they appeared to share. "It's..." her teeth scissored against her bottom lip which shined by the torchlight. "You asked about this," she drew her finger to circle the tattoo around her eye. It didn't entirely look like a ribbon, tick marks jutting off the half circle a bit like a clock.

"It's not a Scarlet Ribbon tattoo, we don't even really have those," the woman who had no troubles sharing anything on her chest seemed to falter. With eyes dancing, she said, "It's a Seer symbol."

"Seers?" Absently, Rosie reached over as if she was about to trace the tattoo upon Anjali's face but paused and tried to stuff her errant hands into her hair. What in the Maker's name are you doing?