Dwenne woke up in the middle of the night in the same position she’d been in for the last while before her accidental slumber. Robes wrapped tight around her, legs curled up into her chest, arms around her shins, head buried into her knees. She felt sick, this suffering unlike anything she’d ever experienced. It had been half a life since she’d done anything like that. Half a life of suffering, and to what end? Only to suffer more after breaking that streak? To know the true guilt that can only come after dabbling in joy?

 

Dwenne sat up, leaving her robes wrinkled and dusted as they were- she deserved that little bit of extra suffering- and began the slow, long, shameful trek back to her bed. The hallways were cold, empty, and lonely as Dwenne walked back to her quarters. On the way, she passed by the financial office- Rose’s workspace. Shamefully, Dwenne stopped for a moment to stare at the door. It had no ornamentation of any kind, no labels to distinguish it from the few dozen or so other doors in the monastery. This one Dwenne knew well. She’d taken many excuses to visit when there would have been little of value to discuss. Dwenne, to her great shame, had taken an indulgence in a good many little visits with the younger Prince over the years.

 

From the other side of the door, Dwenne could hear… something. Scratches, scrapes, noise. Surely nobody was awake at this hour? It had to be well past midnight by now. The Sisters suffered, yes, but they most often suffered on a good night’s rest. Then again… Rose was no ordinary Sister. Dwenne pushed the door open slowly, looking into the financial office to see a beautiful young woman with her hair pulled back, frantically writing in a book by the moonlight of an open window on the far wall. Unnoticed, Dwenne entered the room and walked towards the desk, clearing her throat as she stood across from Rose. Rose jumped, the shock of a sudden noise rattling her for a brief moment. 

 

“Eldest Sister, my apologies, I should have noticed you entering,” Rose said. Her breath was slow, eyes drawn and slit. She was exhausted. Dwenne put a hand on her shoulder as she sat down in the chair across from Rose’s. 

 

“Rose, what are you doing at this hour?” She asked, feeling every ounce of care she dare emit in her voice. 

 

“I was meditating on Denaria’s suffering of the rich sermon when I had a thought. Would it not be prudent of me to write a philosophy of my own? I have many thoughts on suffering and the Sisterhood that I think could be of some value to others,” Rose said. As she looked up at Dwenne to speak, she dipped the quill in the ink pot with a trembling hand, flexing all five fingers in and out of a fist as though each knuckle were in searing pain.

 

“That is… quite a prudent gesture, Rose. What are you writing about? May I?” Dwenne asked, pointing to the book, which was open to a page about a tenth of the way through what remained of it. She recognized it- or rather, what it had been. That book had been an oddity, but it was one that was purchased from a merchant cheaply by Dwenne’s own hand when she’d been assistant to Sister Martha.

 

“Of course,” Rose said, pushing the book forward and flipping it around so that the words faced Dwenne. “I’m still working on a title, but I want it to be a reaffirmation of Denaria’s philosophies combined with influences from Eldest Sister Sellaris and Sister Myren. I will take great care to not suggest schism from Mother’s teachings, of course. Such a thing is, admittedly, quite difficult when dealing with Denarianism.”

 

“Rose, this is… this is incredible!” Dwenne had only read a few short sentences while Rose was talking, but already she could see the value in this project of hers. In the back of her mind, Dwenne wondered just why she thought so highly of Rose’s writing. Looking up at her, Dwenne could see Rose smiling nervously as she shifted in her chair slightly, leaning to her left, then to her right, never settling in place as Dwenne read another passage.

 

Mother tells us that we are to suffer, for suffering will bring purpose and meaning to our life. Sister Denaria told us that suffering without purpose is without meaning. Many consider Denaria a heretic, but there is some merit to her words. Suffering can be undertaken for its own sake just as it can be aimed at a higher purpose. Through our own suffering, we can lessen the suffering of others. This is perhaps the one thing that Mother and Sister Denaria agree on, and in this one singular agreement, one might see that the two visionaries of the Sisterhood are not so different as many might expect at first glance.

 

The passage continued on for some time before a visible break in the paper was had. It discussed ways to have purposeful suffering while still maintaining the Tourmaline Ideal. It was- in a word- brilliant.

 

“I don’t know what to say, Rose,” Dwenne said, lowering the book back onto the desk, sliding it over to her. “We’ve had discussions on such topics before, but never before has the Sisterhood been blessed with as powerful and persuasive a writer as you. Do you believe in the Denarian Position as much as this would suggest?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good, then I am relieving you of your duties here in the financial office until you have completed your work there,” Dwenne said, nodding towards the book. She looked up at Rose and saw the girl frown at first, but as understanding grew on her features, she nodded.

 

“I understand. You are most wise, Eldest Sister, to levy this suffering upon me. Perhaps I’ll make a Denarian of you, yet,” Rose said, flashing Dwenne a smile. Instantly, Dwenne felt her stomach flip around, much like it had during dinner. She had no need to hide her Marks just yet, but- like with every conversation with Rose- she thought it only a matter of time.

 

“Perhaps you will, and perhaps by wearing those gloves of yours I’ll inspire some of the other Sisters to do the same,” Dwenne said, smiling. Smiles were oft unbecoming of the Sisters of Sorrow, but in times like this, perhaps even the Eldest Sister could spare one. “Rose, I do not believe we have ever discussed the matter of Reylan’s Child. Where do you stand on it?”

 

“Sister Denaria spoke of this topic in one of her memoirs, and she ultimately decided she would sire Reylan a daughter,” Rose said. “I think that- though there would be immediate joy in the act on my part- the easing of Reylan’s burden would make the act ultimately acceptable, I could do so and sleep easy that night.”

 

“Well said… though,” Dwenne said with a chuckle, trying her hardest to shove such thoughts away from her as she said the words. “I have difficulty imagining you enjoying the bodies of women.”

 

“Oh I do, spectacularly I do. My elder sister, the King, was famously ravenous before she settled down. The three of us may have inherited that trait from our mother, but my urges could be contained to affairs with serving girls and the occasional noble lady. Nothing scandalous, of course. To tell you the truth, I don’t think Stephanie ever knew about any of my soirees,” Rose said, smiling a little as she finished speaking. She shook the smile off her face before looking up at Dwenne.

 

“With as much respect as I can apply, Sister Rose, were I in a similar position as a young woman I hardly would have had the self-restraint you speak of.”

 

“My mother always insisted I’d be wed to a foreign Prince someday. Steph, she could scandalize all she wanted but she was destined to be King one day, it was easy for everybody to look past. Me, no, I had to be prim and perfect.”

 

“What changed? You’re a monk now,” Dwenne said. She put her hand on the desk, inching it closer to Rose’s hand. Her breath hitched as Rose’s body lay still, as if Dwenne was being dared to make contact.

 

“Steph got married, my mother abdicated, and I met a girl who taught me about all this. She’s… no longer with the Sisterhood, unfortunately, but I did learn a lot from her,” Rose said, lowering her gaze to the table. Dwenne dared just a little more, moving her hand up to touch Rose’s forearm. The contact was like a fire on Dwenne’s fingertips. She knew she should pull away, to act like it had never happened, to apologize and leave for her own quarters. But… at the same time, this was the single greatest thing to have happened to her in at least the last year. All those little touches she’d had with Rose before had all been initiated by the younger woman. This time, Dwenne had dared to reach out and touch her herself. It wasn’t even skin on skin- Mother forbid- but even this… Dwenne could melt into it.

 

“Sister Yvenna?” Dwenne asked. Rose leaned in, matching Dwenne’s stoop over the desk, and nodded.

 

“Yvenna was… a charming, wonderful woman. At first, admittedly, I may have tempted her with joys of the flesh. I would never forgive myself if it were my responsibility that she left the Sisterhood.”

 

“Rose…” Dwenne whispered, her hand stretched forward, reaching the end of Rose’s glove. Skin. Skin. Dwenne could feel the skin of Rose’s wrist. Soft, warm despite the cold, more welcoming than a pillow of down after a hard day’s work. Dwenne’s eyes went out of focus, her breathing stopped, all that mattered were the edges of two of her fingers against the wrist of the woman before her.

 

“Eldest Sister…?” Rose’s whisper broke Dwenne out of her trance. They were close, foreheads barely not touching. Dwenne could see Rose’s breath- warm against the bitter cold of the night. Dwenne thought of kissing her, of throwing herself over the table and committing acts of unspeakable joy. Rose leaned in closer, pressing their foreheads together. 

 

“Rose…” Dwenne whispered, looking into Rose’s eyes. That deep blue, piercing her soul, probably seeing through the facade of the supportive Eldest Sister she ought to be right into the guilt-ridden joy-seeker she was in that moment.

 

“I…” Rose said. Dwenne closed her eyes, sliding her hand further up Rose’s arm. Now, her whole hand made contact with the younger woman’s skin.

 

Then it ended.

 

“I’m sorry, Eldest Sister, the hour is quite late indeed. I… I should go,” Rose stood up quickly, scraping the feet of her chair against the floor, and walking towards the door quickly. Dwenne turned in a flash, standing up, reaching out to catch her as she left, but was too slow. Rose was gone.

 

“You fool,” Dwenne whispered to herself. “You damned fool.”