Favourite treats

To Rosalie Rutherford,

Dear Rosie,

It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? I suppose I should start by saying hello, though that feels too small a word for how much I’ve missed you. I hope you’re somewhere cozy as you read this, maybe with a warm cup of tea. Is it still as cold in Ferelden as I remember? I always liked how the frost made the trees sparkle, though I suppose not everyone enjoys icy toes.

I’ve been… well, not quite anywhere, and also everywhere, if that makes sense. The Free Marches are bigger than I imagined, and Antiva is so warm it feels like the sun is trying to wrap itself around you. But none of it feels like home. It’s strange, isn’t it? To long for a place but be afraid to return. It’s as if there’s an invisible thread pulling me toward Ferelden, but every time I follow it, my feet stop moving. I think it’s because of the shadows. The ones that follow me, even when the sun is shining.

I’ve tried to be brave, Rosie. I really have. But there are nights when the walls seem too close, even if there aren’t any walls at all. Do you know what I mean? And when I close my eyes, it feels like I’m back there. I’m running, still running, even though I know I’m not. I’m sorry if that’s confusing—it’s all confusing to me, too.

But then I thought of you, of how you always seemed to know just the right thing to say, even when things were upside down. Like when you’d find a book to distract me, or share some bit of wisdom wrapped up in one of your lovely smiles. I guess I just wanted to write, to remind myself that the world is bigger than the shadows, and that there’s still someone out there who knows the real me—the me from before.

I’m not ready to come back yet, but I wanted you to know I’m still here. Still trying. If you write back, I can’t promise I’ll stay in one place long enough to receive it, but maybe just knowing you’ve sent a letter will be enough. Like carrying a piece of home with me, even if I’m far away.

Take care of yourself, Rosie. The world needs more people like you in it. I’ll try to be brave, and maybe one day, I’ll be able to visit. Maybe you’ll even have tea waiting.

Yours, always,

Asha

@Rosalie Rutherford

Dear Asha

It’s been too long indeed, receiving your letter has been one of the best parts of the week. I miss you too and indeed Ferelden is as cold as before, it hurts to admit this but I had gotten used to the milder weather of Val Royeaux and now that we are hitting this time of the year I find missing kinder temperatures.

“It’s normal to be afraid, it’s a part of being human. If you ever bring yourself here, know that you have a warm bed and food waiting for you. My home belongs to my family, and for me you are like a little cousin at this point.

It’s normal to feel that way. When I lost Vincent, Maeve and Lucien I was tempted to flee, and I am not someone that thinks that lightly. What grounded me was that I had to take care of Maeve’s and Lucien’s child. Find what you need to ground yourself and cling to it, that’s the best advice I can give you in times like these.

You are a mage, do you know any way that we could train an animal or a magical device to speak so that we can make sure of that the letters reach you? When you come here, I will make a chocolate cake like the one we baked to Cullen, I have polished the recipe of the years.

With love

Rosie.

Hello Rosie, Asha’s voice, soft and dreamy as always, carries through her quill strokes like a melody that might float on a gentle breeze.

You’re so kind to write back. It’s funny, I could almost feel the warmth of your words before I even opened the letter, like they were waiting to wrap me up in something soft and safe. Isn’t it strange how a letter can feel more like home than a place sometimes?

Asha pauses, the ink pooling on the page as her thoughts wander.

I think of Val Royeaux sometimes, though I’ve only ever seen it in stories and paintings. It seems like a city where dreams and reality might touch. But I imagine Ferelden in winter would still tug at your heartstrings—icy toes and all. I hope your hearth stays bright, though, and that you have slippers thick enough to keep your feet warm.

There’s a hesitation in the writing, a slight tremor in the ink.

Your words about grounding… they stayed with me. Like a small light I can carry in my pocket, just for when the shadows stretch too long. I think, maybe, I’ve been looking for what grounds me, without realizing it. The stars help sometimes. Did you know they’re the same no matter where you go? Even here, in the parts of the world where everything else feels too big, the stars are small and familiar.

She leans back, staring at the letter as though speaking to it directly.

An animal or magical device that can carry words sounds like the sort of thing a fairy tale would have, doesn’t it? I’m not very good at enchanting—my magic always feels a little wild, like a bird that doesn’t want to stay in its cage—but I might try. It would be nice to have a way for letters to find me, even when I don’t know where I’ll be. Maybe I’ll find a clever raven or a sparrow with a sense of adventure. That would suit, don’t you think?

Her tone shifts slightly, lighter, with a trace of a smile.

Oh, and the chocolate cake! Rosie, you’re too good to me. I still think about that cake sometimes, the way Cullen’s whole face lit up when he tasted it. It’s like sweetness can cut through even the deepest gloom, isn’t it? I’ll dream of it tonight, I think—a warm kitchen, the smell of chocolate, and the sound of laughter. I wonder if dreams like that are a kind of grounding, too.

Her writing softens as she closes.

Thank you, Rosie, for being you. For reminding me that there’s still a home to come back to, even if I can’t quite see the path yet. I’ll keep trying to be brave, and maybe one day, I’ll find my feet moving again. Until then, I’ll carry your letter like a talisman, something small and strong to hold onto when the world feels too big.

Take care of yourself, won’t you? The world feels less sharp, knowing you’re in it.

Yours, always,

Asha

@Rosalie Rutherford