Work Text:
The candle sputtered and faded away, and Inquisitor Eleanor Trevelyan looked up from her book, realizing that she had read the same passage at least three times without absorbing any of the words. Closing both her eyes and the rather dull treatise on the Antivan language, she yawned.
Eleanor stretched her arms over her head before stepping over to the fireplace, where the wood had burned down to cinders and ash. In her waiting, she'd allowed the fire to die.
"Well, that won't do," she muttered to herself, kneeling down to load more wood onto the grate and light it with a nearby match.
She couldn't have Josephine coming to bed in a freezing room.
Glancing out the window, she frowned. The moon had risen fully into the night sky, and she could even see the constellations Peraquialus, if she tried.
Of course, Eleanor had more important things on her mind. Like the absence of her beloved. Josephine hadn't come to bed yet, and it was far too late to be working. Even for the Ambassador of the Inquisition.
Her intent, in reading the book, was to wait up for her. It seemed the kind of thing that one did, though in truth their relationship had only just progressed to the point where Josie had moved into her lavish quarters with her.
Eleanor was still a little unsure of herself. She was unused to romantic relationships, as the Circle at Oswtick had discouraged such things. Friendly trysts in broom closets, she understood. What she felt for Josephine was something entirely new. And for Josie, she'd stay up all night, if she had to.
But it didn't seem very healthy, for either of them.
In her pajamas, barefoot, she slipped a loose wool robe around her shoulders, pulling it tight, and ventured down the many stairs. Her advisors insisted that the stairs and the relative isolation of her rooms was a way to deter assassins.
Eleanor was of the opinion that no one would be able to hear her shout, so far away. Still, the rooms were quite nice, and she did appreciate the privacy, after so many years of sharing a dormitory.
Into the grand entrance hall she went, where there were few people still about. A guard here or there, on night duty, and that was about everyone. She nodded to the guard as she passed, and headed right for the Ambassador's office. Just as she suspected, there was the telltale glow of candlelight peeking out from underneath the door.
Knocking gently, Eleanor pushed the door open. Josephine didn't even look up from her parchment, so engrossed she was in her work.
"Josephine," Eleanor said gently, stopping in front of her desk. "Josie."
"Just a moment..." she murmured, scrawling something in her elegant hand. "Eleanor? What are you doing here, mi amora?"
"I've been waiting for you to come to bed," Eleanor said simply, hoping she didn't sound quite as forlorn as she felt. "It's very late."
Josephine's somewhat harried expression softened at that, and she set her quill down, capping her ink bottle and blowing out her ever-burning candle.
"Well, then. I think I've done quite enough work for the night," she said, standing, and Eleanor noticed a pink tint to her cheeks that she was certain was mirrored on her own.
"Good," she said, taking Josie's arm in hers. "You work too much, my love."
"Oh, perhaps," Josephine admitted with a laugh, tucking herself into Eleanor's side as they left her office together. "But at least I have you to teach me a little moderation."