Vigils Keep had begun to be her second home. It was a nice change from the bustle of Highever. Here she was surrounded by warriors, not women in petticoats gossiping about Mary and her three husbands. The only gossip here was how Frank killed twenty darkspawn with one hit. It was gossip that she could get behind. Teasing men about their overcompensation was one thing that she lived for. Of course, she had toned it down some since she was forced to delve into politics more, but occasionally she was able to let go and be herself.
Slowing her horse by the front gate, Freya felt the gelding shudder under her, shying away from the massive gates she had rode through many times. It was quite apparent a moment later why. The twisting, glowing mass of green light that rested in the main courtyard. Maker's Balls, there was one here too? No wonder Alistair needed her urgently. No doubt the nobles were climbing out of their skin because of this. Patting the gelding's neck, she murmured encouraging words to him before urging him forward. A deep growl sounded next to her, and she glanced down briefly to the mabari at her side. The protective way his hackles raised as they approached the rift made her smile and she whistled sharply to draw his attention from it. "They have it under control, Maric,"
she spoke low. And it was true. Several wardens seemed to be stationed around the rift, keeping an eye on anything that may come out of it. Freya wondered why Alistair hadn't contacted the Inquisitor over this. Or maybe he had, but the inquisition was fairly busy and the Inquisitor couldn't be everywhere at once.
Stopping at the stable, Freya swung her leg over to hop down from the stable. The man in charge of the stable took the reins from her, and she patted her horse on the neck briefly before she turned to the man. ”Is the commander in his office?” ”Yes ma’am, I believe so.”
Freya nodded her head, grabbing a satchel out of the saddle bags before she turned towards the Keep. Maric bounced at her heels happily. This was the first time she had actually brought her hound with her and she had no idea how Alistair was going to react to his name. Probably laugh and she'd have to hit him. She was a young kid at the time, and he needed a good kingly name, Maric seemed a good choice.
It took her less time this time to find the Alistair's preferred place of work, and she knocked on the door briefly before pushing it open. Leaning inside, she raised a brow at him.”Miss me? I come bearing gifts.”
Her “gift” was a bottle of whiskey that she pulled from her satchel as she approached the solid wood desk he was behind. She set the bottle down before sitting down across from him and propped her feet up on the corner. Maric laid down at her feet with a low groan, stretching out on the stone floor.ALISTAIR THEIRIN