Slowly, her eyes opened and a smile dawned on her face. Sweet Maker! Cullen clasped a hand to his mouth, stumbling towards the woman who could never stop surprising him. "We have a boy," she whispered as he picked up her weary fingers. Warm, she was warm because she was alive. Cullen cupped her cheek next, then kissed those speaking lips. Alive and with him.
"Are you...?" he stuttered, afraid that she was clinging to life by a thread.
"I am well enough. Exhausted."
"Of course you are," he gasped, unable to stop the happy tears, "after all of that, and..."
"Commander," Misha's voice broke through his babbling and he turned over to her, "would you like to meet your son?" She stood beside the cradle he'd broken down and remade three times until it was just right. But it was further across the room and he didn't want to stop holding Lana tight, reminding himself she was alive.
His wife seemed to read his reluctance as she pressed her fingers against his cheek and sighed, "Go on."
Stumbling to shaking legs, Cullen stepped over towards the cradle. Perched inside of it was a small drawer he now recognized as having been yanked from their wardrobe. At his confused glare, Misha explained. "The child is too small for such a large bed. He'll have to sleep in there for awhile."
Cullen nodded dumbly as he watched the tiny baby stretched out upon its back cushioned by a thin throw pillow set inside the drawer. He'd never seen an infant that small before, it looked as if he could fit inside his palm. The skin was taut to fragile bones, stretched so tight he feared he could see the ribs through the mottled flesh. It was far lighter than Lana's beautiful shade, but darker than his. She'd assured him there was a good chance their baby would darken with time, but it was the spots covering the baby's stomach and his legs that drew great concern to him.
"Lana," he stuttered, staring down at the tiny thing barely kicking a leg. "Is he...?" Cullen turned back, "Can you feel...?"
"No," she shook her head, the happy sheen of recent motherhood fading at the fear in the air, "I sense no corruption."
"Thank the Maker," he gasped. Slowly, Cullen began to reach his fingers down to scoop his son up to his chest, but Misha snatched them away.
"The child is far too fragile right now. If you want him to survive, you're best off only handling him when strictly necessary."
"I..." He stared down at this being formed of their flesh inside of his wife, its tiny limbs rattling around in a new world, and in his heart he felt nothing. Shouldn't it be overflowing with love, or happiness? All he felt was gratefulness at Lana's survival and trepidation at what was to come next. What was wrong with him? The baby's mouth opened a bit, trying to suckle the air, and for a twinge Cullen wanted to run his finger over the tiny cheeks. But at a look from Misha he held himself back.
"We did it," Lana smiled at him. Maker she looked happy. As happy as the day they married. No, as happy as the day he plucked her out of the Grey Warden prison and brought her back into his life.
"You did it," Cullen said, "I was only here for support."
"Not to be interrupting," Misha said, "but the baby will need more blankets and clothing." At the moment all he had was one of Cullen's tunics swaddled around to keep from freezing to death.
"They're all in the...I'll go get them," he said, staggering out towards the door. Without the man in the way, Misha scooped up the drawer and hauled their son over to Lana. The gentle mother dipped down to her son and began to draw him closer to her breast.
A dark thought struck Cullen, a vision of Lana weeping openly as their far too small son's cold body pressed against her chest. He may not survive. He was so early. And it would kill her to lose him.
Barely aware of where he was going, Cullen left the door to their room open as he stumbled backwards from the horrifying thought. He didn't stop until a hand wearing very expensive rings clattered to his back. Turning around, Cullen blinked in shock for a moment at the familiar face before him.
"Good evening, Commander. I am here to help save your baby."
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
Help
1 week old...
Her fingers paused above the thin chest as desperate cries erupted out of the far too tiny throat. Barely audible at first, after every session they grew stronger until they began to break against Cullen's mind. It felt like claws gouging his skin at how the baby wailed, reminding him with each shriek what little he had to offer in soothing the child. Vivienne tipped her coiffed head at the boy's wailing, then began again, white light warping around the drawer.
They set up shop in the nicest room in the abbey. After every feeding Lana was capable of, he'd bring the child to Vivienne and she'd cast some spell to help him grow stronger outside of the womb the way he should have in. The first night was the worst, both parents terrified that at any moment their baby would stop breathing. It took everything within Cullen to keep Lana from spending every moment drifting her fingers above her son's lips and nose to make certain he was still with them.
Vivienne waved off her magic and the jangle of her rings, or perhaps the lack of white light, caused the baby to stop crying. He seemed to be trying to stare up at this mystery woman beyond his narrow vision. "Your child began at nearly four pounds and thanks to my efforts is breathing normally and approaching a full five pounds. I'd say I've done all I can to help him reach what he should have inside his mother."
"Thank you, Madam de Fer," Cullen reached over grasping her hand and shaking it.
"Of course, Darling. I'm happy to assist," she stared down at the tiny baby. To Cullen's bleary eyes it didn't look as if the child had grown much at all. His skin was splotchy, though the ash gave way to a warm tan, his chest reedy, and the head shaped almost conical. Cullen was growing uncertain how anyone could find babies adorable.
"I admit, when I sent for assistance from the Circle I never anticipated you would be the one to answer it." Cullen tried both the Circle she established in Val Royeaux and the College. He knew the answer he'd get from the College, most angry that they didn't pith all the templars in their abbey, but he figured he'd give them a chance to surprise him. The Circle was his only hope.
Vivienne shifted her golden staff to her other hand and deftly smoothed down her silk dress. Deep into the Ferelden backwoods and she looked as if she belonged on an Orlesian ballroom, pressed and primed for it as always. "Dear Commander, after everything you did for thedas who else but the best would do for protecting and reviving your first born?"
"Yes," he sighed. Lana tried, he'd sense her magic dipping out of the fade for her son but Cullen insisted that she only focus on herself. The last thing they needed was her falling ill as well. Not that his logic would fully stop her, the mother secretly healing her child while also nursing him with her milk. Somehow her stubbornness lightened Cullen's heart; it meant she was still Lana.
"It is surprising how much of a resemblance the baby already bears to you," Vivienne said offhand. It threw him off. Either she was trying to be kind or cruel; it was always impossible to tell with her.
"Oh?"
"Forgoing the skin tone and lack of hair, which I imagine will come out black, that nose is clearly yours and I dare say the cheekbones as well as chin."
He couldn't see himself in the child, though he couldn't see Lana either. It was a baby, a very sick baby that he had to do all he could to keep alive. Sadly, it seemed even Cullen's meager usefulness was coming to an end if Vivienne truly considered her help no longer required. The child opened his eyes and waved his bunched fists around when another piercing wail erupted.
The mage shirked from it, digging her little finger into her ear at the noise. "It seems it is time to return him for dinner."
"I think you're right," Cullen agreed. Bending over, he hefted up the entire drawer in his arms. Maybe one day the baby could sleep in his cradle. "Let me drop him off with his mother and then I can see you to the gate. Give you my heartfelt gratitude once again."
He began to leave the guest room when V
ivienne's fingers gripped to his strained arm. "I find myself curious if the mother doesn't require any magical assistance as well."
"Ah," Cullen blanched, "no, she's...she's healing well, just tired and...exhausted."
"Quite," Vivienne's eyes carved up and down Cullen, no doubt plumbing him for the lie but she released her grip. Carting his infant son about like the child was a roast stuffed into a drawer, he made it to the door, when the Enchanter remarked, "I am glad to hear that our dear Solona Amell is recovering from the birth. At her age it can be quite an ordeal."
Cullen froze, his shoulders tightening as he felt the threat rising in the air. Anyone else, even while clinging to his son, he'd have tossed out on their ass, but Vivienne was smart and crafty. If she was tipping her hand it was either because she wanted something or was going to in the future. "How...?"
"Commander," she touched her hand to her breast, "not all of us are fooled by longer hair, a slower gait, and avoiding a title. I may have only met the Hero of Ferelden once, but it's enough to stick. We mages don't all look alike."
At her little joke Vivienne's always on point sneer dropped and she dipped her head, "You are doing much for the order, after what was taken from them. As I understand it, you both are, the Lady Amell included. I have no intentions of dishonoring you, nor your wife's good work. As some of the lesser cretins who ran in our menagerie of accomplices in the Inquisition would say, 'my lips are sealed.'"
"Thank you," he breathed, tipping his head down to her.
He began to close the door, but Vivienne of course had to have the last word. "It is rather humorous though. Out of all the mages in southern thedas, the only one surrounded day after day by templars is the Hero of Ferelden."
Trying to shake off the fear that Lana's secret was spoiled beyond measure, Cullen carried their son into their bedroom. If it became an issue it was one they could solve later. She had a child now, it wasn't as if...
Cullen blanched at the memory of how many babies had been taken from mothers in the towers. Unexpected, considered unwanted, they passed to Sisters and Mothers in the chantry, no one knowing if the children made it past their first night. He'd forgotten that part, few turning to the Knight-Captain to handle such matters. But when Lana would wake from a nap in a fury to get back her baby from the templar that took him, the shame fell harder upon Cullen. No, as much as he wanted to pretend it was so, as long as Lana was a mage she was never truly safe, nor their family.
He shook off the dour thoughts and put on a smile while walking into their room. Sorting through a series of far too large pajamas upon the table beside the window, Lana looked up at the sound. "Good morning," she called in her breathy voice, her fingers waving softly to her baby. She kissed tightly to Cullen's cheek as he returned the drawer to the cradle, then she carefully scooped the baby into her arms.
While the crying shushed a moment against his mother's warm skin, Cullen said, "I have good news. Vivienne's given him a clean bill of health."
"Did you hear that?" Lana cooed to the baby trying to suck upon her shoulder. "You're so strong, getting stronger every day."
"Just like his mother," Cullen whispered, placing a kiss to her forehead.
She smiled warmly at that, then the motherly cocoon snapped off in an instant, "Did Madam de Fer say anything else? I imagine the Circle's sniffing around here hoping to scoop up some templars. I swear to the Maker if they try to put them back on the lyrium leash..."
"Lana," he soothed, "I kept her far from the templars. She preferred the solitude of her room for the trip."
"Good," she nodded, then flinched as their son began a fresh round of crying. "I think someone's getting hungry."
"I'll go help to see Vivienne off," Cullen slid away as she let down the strap on her nightgown.
She was fumbling to get the baby lined up, the exhaustion evident in her movements. He wanted to rush over and help her to a chair or the bed, but...he had no idea if that was what was needed. Shaking his head, he retreated to the door.
"Cullen," Lana called out, looking up from the tiny mouth sliding across her nipple, "it'll be okay."
"I know," he nodded.
The baby was getting healthier, Lana was on the road to recovery. They'd survived it. Everything went well and he should be ecstatic.
Why did he feel nothing but dread nestling in his heart?
***
It didn't take him long to get Vivienne secured with her caravan. She seemed as eager to remain in the 'rustic backwoods' as much as Lana wanted her here. Cullen thanked her again, truly meaning it. Without her, he doubted he could have stopped Lana from overexerting herself over what could have been a lost cause. If he'd lost both of them in the same night...
Dust trailed down the road away from the abbey traveling with Vivienne's departure and he stood enraptured watching it. The rising eastern sun caught so it glittered like flecks of gold through the amber sky. Soon the entire abbey would be humming with people, and he'd have to take control to make certain medicines were doled out, chores finished, and the other day to day problems handled. He had an infant son, barely a week into this world, clinging to his mother, and yet Cullen couldn't stop staring at the horizon.
Why was it so fascinating to him? He'd stared out through these woods hundreds of times before, often while dumping off garbage, or facing a long road of traveling. It's not as if... He blinked, then rubbed his eyes and tried again. Vivienne's dust wasn't fading into the sunlight. In fact, it seemed to be picking up speed and heading back to where it began. Cullen barely had time to slide back in, much less shout out, "We have company incoming," when a horse clattered up the base of the hill.
He didn't recognize the bay, and there was no banner flying. Cullen was at a loss until he spotted the far too familiar and far too long scarf knotted tight around white, once blonde hair. "Mia!" he cried, dashing forward for his sister before she even had time to stop her horse much less dismount.
"Whoa, stop you bucket of oats. I swear to the... Baby brother!" she called, sliding down off the horse and catching him in a hug.
"How in Andraste's name did you get out here so quickly?" he asked, grateful to see his sister here.
"Maker's sake, you two do make life a challenge. I was all ready to be heading out in two weeks time and here comes this little birdie flitting through my window." Her easy smile faded as she stared into Cullen's eyes, "How is...?"
"We have a boy," he filled in quickly.
"Sweet Andraste, you know you should open with that. Hi, hi, we have a baby boy, and he's..."
"Healthy," Cullen caught on again, causing Mia to sigh and pat her chest, "small, very small."
"That early it's no surprise. How's Lana?" She reached up towards her bag across the saddle, but the taller Cullen snatched it off first.
"Tired, it...things didn't quite go as planned," he turned deeper into himself, thinking back upon the torturous hours raising up the fear of losing her.
"No kidding, a month early isn't exactly planned. But, you have a baby boy, and they're both doing well, so it's..." His sister's jubilation paused as she caught the tremble in Cullen's hands. "What is it? There's something else, isn't there?"
He hadn't been able to tell anyone else. No one in the abbey knew about Lana's past, nor would they truly understand the implications of her being a Warden. And she was under enough strain, dwelling upon it with her would be cruel. Sucking in a hard breath, he said, "It's returned. The taint."
"Oh no," Mia placed her hand to her mouth.
"More than likely that was what triggered the birthing process, her body saving the baby from it."
"And the boy...?" She dug her fingers into his arm, trying to wring the truth quickly from him.
Cullen shook his head, "Lana says he's clean of it. I believe her because I think she tests every second he's in her arms. But she's..." He was going to lose her. One day the vile corruptness in her veins would turn upon her, drain her life until she was little more than a thinking
ghoul, and he'd lose her to the deep.
"Cullen," Mia swiped her hands around his side and tugged him to her for a half hug, "it'll be okay. She'll find a solution again. You know how wicked smart your wife is."
"Right," he nodded, not feeling the darkness lift off his heart, "smart."
"Now, tell me how cute your son is. I assume adorable and the spitting image of his mother."
"He's a...a baby?" Cullen shrugged, uncertain how to answer.
Luckily he had Mia here to correct him, "No, no, anytime someone asks or tells you your child is cute you say yes, thank you, he gets it from his mother."
"What if the child isn't adorable?"
She glared hard at him, "Are you saying your son isn't cute?"
"No! I...I'm only wondering what to do in the even that..."
His terrified babble faded at Mia's laughter, "Don't worry, brother. I'll get it beaten into your head a few days into this trip that every baby is cute, especially yours."
"Wonderful," he sighed, rolling his eyes. Chuckling at her baby brother's misfortune, Mia playfully punched into his arm. "Mi," he whispered, "I'm glad you're here."
"Me too, I wouldn't miss watching you change a diaper for anything."
***
As Cullen vanished out the door, Lana tried to reposition her son. He kept getting close to latching on but at the last moment would abandon sucking in order to cry. Every tiny wail dug deeper into her skin. "Come on," she groaned. Her legs were barely functional, her hips jelly after the birth. She managed to slide a few feet here and there but was confined to this tiny room. Glancing at the chair beside the window, Lana shook her head and sat down upon the bed.
Love's Blush Page 94
