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Faelyn ran her fingers along Birdie’s arm. Leliana, she reminded herself. Four syllables… eight… seven? Lots of letters. She spelled out her best guess at the name on Leliana’s freckled arm. “L… E… L… E…” She furrowed her brows.
“L-E-L-I-A-N-A,” Birdie said, smiling.
“That doesn’t sound right,” Faelyn hummed, thinking. She was terrible at names. It didn’t usually get her in trouble, but she knew that it bothered people when she asked them for the hundredth time what their name was. Whether or not the patrons of the tavern she’d worked at would think it was cute or annoying to introduce themselves for the twentieth time changed from day to day. Leliana. Leliana. Leliana. She spelled out the name—Leliana—on Birdie’s soft, shemlen skin. She had lots of fine, orange hair that tickled the pad of Faelyn’s finger.
“I can assure you that’s correct,” Birdie smiled. “I’ve been spelling it like that for quite some time.”
Faelyn returned her smile. She was very glad she’d picked Birdie up from the Chantry in Lothering. She was very nice to have around. “Is it Orlesian?” Birdie had said she was Ferelden by birth, but her accent was so wonderfully Orlesian—at least, Faelyn assumed as much—and she always told stories about all sorts of Orlesian things.
Birdie nodded, humming out a yes. “Is Faelyn elven?”
Faelyn shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said, spelling her own name on Birdie’s arm. “I think it’s just Ferelden. Lots of Alienage elves don’t speak Elven,” she said. “So most of us have Ferelden-y names.” She paused. Nelaros’ name was… He was from Highever. She tried to recall what he said in the few letters she exchanged with him before their marriage. He was a smith. He thought she was funny. He couldn’t wait to marry her. He’d made their wedding rings himself as soon as she sent back a letter enclosed with a piece of twine that fit perfectly around her finger.
“Faelyn?” Birdie looked at her oddly.
Faelyn’s finger had stopped moving as she stared off into the fire. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Just… thinking. About n…ames… Names.”
“It’s alright,” Birdie said, her gentle voice reassuring.
Faelyn drew her hand away to fiddle with Nelaros’ ring. She knew she wasn’t always the best at noticing things, but she knew that Birdie noticed the ring on her finger right away. Sometimes, the iron ring felt very, very heavy. She wondered if anybody else noticed that. “Birdie?”
“Yes?”
“Have you ever liked someone?” Her voice was quiet. She wasn’t sure why she asked. Alistair was asleep in his tent, and Puppy was curled up a few feet away by the fire. Sten was asleep against a tree, and Morrigan was a good distance away, reading by the light of her own fire.
“Plenty,” Birdie replied, her voice just as soft. “Both as friends and as… more.”
Faelyn nodded. “How… was it?” She wanted to know. To know if Birdie had felt things like Faelyn had. She didn’t know what answer would be better.
Birdie sighed a little. The soft frown on her face didn’t go away. Before Faelyn could apologize for asking, Birdie started talking. “I’ve always fancied people,” she said. “Ever since I was little.” Her lips turned upward slightly, but she still had a faraway look in her eyes. “Here,” she said. Her eyes grew a little happier as she thought of an example. “Let’s see… I think the first person I ever had eyes for was this street performer back in Orlais.”
Faelyn’s interest was piqued. “A street performer?” Her brow furrowed slightly. Like a beggar?
Birdie nodded. “One of the people who would stand on the corner and play a lute for coin,” she said. “She wore the most beautiful mask, and had such a wonderful voice.”
Faelyn blinked at her. She? She giggled a little. “No, Birdie,” she said, smiling. She must have misunderstood me! Silly bird. “People you liked,” she explained. “Like… someone you’d want to marry.”
“Oh, I wanted to marry her,” Birdie smiled back. “I would often sit and listen to her play her love songs and sigh,” she said, letting out a soft, exaggerated sigh. “And picture that it was me she was singing to.”
“But she was a girl,” Faelyn said. Maybe everything was strange in Orlais. Maybe she and her could refer to both men and women. “And… you’re…?”
“Oh, my dear Warden,” Birdie said, putting a hand on Faelyn’s arm. “Indeed she was, and indeed I am.” She looked at Faelyn, a little dare in her bright blue eyes. “Is that so strange?”
“Yes,” Faelyn replied, the answer automatic. “It is.” She’d never heard of such a thing. It was strange.
“Do you take issue with it?”
“No.” This answer, too, passed by her lips before she could even think about it. “You do like boys, don’t you?”
Birdie hummed out a yes. “Do you?” She asked.
Faelyn thought of Nelaros. Of his soft smile, his blond hair, his bright eyes, his cold lips. She liked him. She loved him. She still loved him. She thought of all the time she spent as a little girl, sitting at the foot of her parents’ bed and pressing Mummy’s wedding dress against her cheek. Even after Mummy was gone—especially then—she would spend far too long with her cheek up against the soft, cotton fabric. Breathing in her smell. Pretending like she could hear the thumping of her heart.
“Yes,” Faelyn said.
“Only boys?” Birdie said, her voice slightly teasing.
This yes didn’t come automatically. “I think so,” Faelyn said, her voice a soft, shaky whisper. I’ve never… She’d never thought of it. After all, girls didn’t marry girls. Then again… Elves didn’t marry humans, either, and yet Faelyn had thought plenty of humans were pretty. She thought lots of people were pretty. Humans, elves, even a dwarf or two she’d seen in the market. And it wasn’t like she’d only ever thought boys were pretty. Girls were very, very pretty. Do other girls not think other girls are pretty?
“Faelyn?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Huh.” It was funny. Startling, yes, but a little funny, having a new thought like that. Are you taking me away, ser? Do I have to wear blue now? I’m barely a Warden, miss, what am I supposed to do? Do other girls not think other girls are pretty? “I think it’s Alistair’s turn to be on watch,” she said. “I should go wake him up.”
Birdie smiled at her. She had a very pretty smile. “Alright,” she said. There was a small laugh in her voice. It made Faelyn’s ears feel pink. “Goodnight, Faelyn.”
“Nightie night, Birdie,” Faelyn replied. Puppy woke, sleepily walking over to Faelyn’s side, nosing at her bicep. She gave Birdie a small wave before she turned to go nudge Alistair out of sleepiness. Her face was warm. Her ring was heavy on her finger.
Oh well, she thought. I’ll think about that tomorrow. She smiled to herself. Tomorrow. Once I’m nice and awake.