Pot and Kettle

Something about seeing Aoife react as she did couldn't have kept the smirk off his face, even if he tried. Not that he did. Sebastian knew exactly what he was doing and was fully willing to accept whatever hell might rain on his head after Bodil was gone.

I was sent away when I came of age, Bodil, or has senility taken your mind? There were few he'd dare speak to in such a manner, but he'd been literally raised by this woman. He knew her better than he'd ever known his other mother. Sebastian's gaze darted from his old nanny back to Aoife in the tub as she was scrutinized.

Maker help them both.

His voice hitched in his throat. After this scene, that was her concern here? He couldn't decide if that was better or if suffering yet another sex talk from her might have been better. He'd lost count in his childhood how many she'd given him.

In an instant, Sebastian found his voice again as he gave a half-hearted scowl. Andraste preserve me, Bodil, you would not be stopped by a locked door. She held the keys to the castle, so to speak. Even had a habit of randomly barging into his locked room if he'd not been seen in an hour. Usually he was writing. And usually it was letters to Aoife that had never been sent.

Finally, he'd gotten to his feet and stepped to block further view of Aoife in the tub from his old nanny. You'll meet proper tomorrow. Now go, Ciaran has probably lost you by now. He gestured for her to shoo back to the door. He loved the woman like a mother, but Maker help him she was too nosy for her own good.

Maybe it was never any advisors or members of court that sought for him to bear an heir. Maybe it was all just her whispering to whomever might hear her complaints of no child to raise.

A sigh once she was gone as he turned to look back at Aoife. Neither of us will, I'm afraid. It's in her head now and she's already been hounding me since I returned. Stepping to the side, he reached for a towel and held it out for her to step into at her request.

He paused, then chuckled, releasing the towel once she'd take it for herself. I suppose it's a good thing she didn't notice what I brought for you to wear. Reaching for the oversized tunic, he held it out for her with a shrug. It's the best I can do that's clean and doesn't belong to a dead family member, he added, a little twinge of awkwardness lingering behind his voice.