Aella’s been here a long time, now. So when Ned mentioned that he wanted to explore and learn more about where he’d found himself, it was easy to offer to be his guide. To show him around. She likes him. Enjoys his company. And enjoys the fact that he can give as good as he gets. Thank fuck. She appreciates that in a friend.
He just... reminds her of Alistair, sometimes. And the memory of his betrayal, the words he’d thrown at her, the way he’d left without giving her a chance to explain WHY are still jagged and sharp. So her feelings about Ned are... complicated, in those moments. But there’s so much more to him than just those fleeting glimpses, and she likes him. Gods help her, she fucking likes him. A lot. Even if everything is screaming at her to not trust him, to not let him get close.
She’s doing it anyway. Despite all common sense.
She looks up and grins at him as he hands her a cup of mulled cider, the warmth of it helping to thaw her hands. “No you didn’t,” she says with a soft laugh. “But I appreciate it. I haven’t had mulled cider in... a really long time.” Since before her almost-wedding. There wasn’t time, travelling as she was, to mull cider. And it’s definitely not something she thought about. Too busy.
There’s something warm and... almost content, in his closeness. “There’s nothing to repay,” she tells him, warmly, taking a sip of her cider. “It’s the least I could do.” She nudges his shoulder, gently. "And I'm glad to call you friend."
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He just... reminds her of Alistair, sometimes. And the memory of his betrayal, the words he’d thrown at her, the way he’d left without giving her a chance to explain WHY are still jagged and sharp. So her feelings about Ned are... complicated, in those moments. But there’s so much more to him than just those fleeting glimpses, and she likes him. Gods help her, she fucking likes him. A lot. Even if everything is screaming at her to not trust him, to not let him get close.
She’s doing it anyway. Despite all common sense.
She looks up and grins at him as he hands her a cup of mulled cider, the warmth of it helping to thaw her hands. “No you didn’t,” she says with a soft laugh. “But I appreciate it. I haven’t had mulled cider in... a really long time.” Since before her almost-wedding. There wasn’t time, travelling as she was, to mull cider. And it’s definitely not something she thought about. Too busy.
There’s something warm and... almost content, in his closeness. “There’s nothing to repay,” she tells him, warmly, taking a sip of her cider. “It’s the least I could do.” She nudges his shoulder, gently. "And I'm glad to call you friend."