My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

"Do you remember me, Derrik?" Barris asked, the door shutting before Cullen could overhear the answer.

  He glanced down at the remaining sheets waiting to be strung up like bandits, but perhaps he should deliver this letter to Lana. Where was his wife, anyway? He prodded first into her potions room, where he'd last seen her this morning, but it sat empty and mostly clean. The kitchen staff only shrugged, no one having seen her since morning. She couldn't have gone off to pick herbs, nearly nothing had sprouted out of the ground and Honor was fast asleep in her kennel. Even with a muzzle of snow, she always followed Lana to protect her.

  Cullen's question grew to concern as he began to peek his head into every room. Maker's sake, there weren't that many in the abbey. This shouldn't be so difficult. It wasn't until he debated if it was worth it to signal the Arl and see if Lana wandered off to the near hunting lodge that he thought to check their room. A slight tremor grew in his hand, the fear of losing her beating its fists upon his heart, as he grabbed onto the doorknob.

  Thanks to a fresh oiling, the door opened smoothly to reveal a mass of curls perched over the back of a chair. Breath filled his body as the head whipped back and forth, Lana's hand reaching forward to match a quill jabbing into a book. She was fine, and working. Why was he even worried? She was always working.

  Swallowing down the concern in his voice, Cullen slid into the room and tried to silently close the door. The tug of wind caused her candle's flame to dance forward, Lana whipping her head towards him. He smiled, "You're never going to guess who's back. It's..."

  Lana rose to her feet quickly. Shuffling towards him without a cane, she grabbed onto Cullen's hand and placed it against her lower stomach. "Feel," she commanded.

  "All right," he cupped tighter against the blue dress clinging to her soft belly. "I..." Cullen shook his head, "I'm not certain what I'm looking for." He thought it a strange game, certain she was about to laugh, until looking up into her eyes. Her face was stricken, nearly pale as ash, the bottom lip trembling.

  "Not with your hand," she sneered, "with your mind."

  "With my...what?" He was fully lost now, fearing this was all some prank but Lana looked spooked beyond measure.

  "Please," she begged, a sliver of a tear welling up in her eye. Moved to action, Cullen tried to steady himself deeper inside to the abandoned templar skills. He had no idea what he was looking for, or supposed to be feeling. There was Lana, his wife, his reason for getting up in the morning. Her warm body pressed tight to his drew up memories to him of when it was her bare skin instead of the thick linen. He'd skirted his fingers to her stomach before dawn to hold her tight to him. Cullen thought he'd been quiet, but no, she woke and cuddled deeper to his body, entertained with his failed subtlety. Her laugh had rumbled up through his palm because she was so full of life.

  Life.

  His eyes flew open, Cullen's tongue falling slack as he mouthed the word again, "Life?" Barely more than a flutter of a butterfly's wings, this other life beat through her own, from inside her. "Lana..." he swallowed, "what is this? What's inside of you? Are you okay? Is there some, are you infested with a parasite?"

  She cupped his cheeks with her hands, tugging him to her forehead. "In a manner of speaking..." More of her weight fell against his body, Cullen wrapping an arm around her waist while the other remained tight to her abdomen as if he could banish whatever was festering inside of her.

  "Cullen, I...Maker's sake, I can't believe I'm about to say this." Lana gulped, the glistening tears dribbling off her cheek. "I still don't believe it, even after..."

  "What? Please, tell me," he begged, the tremors beginning again.

  "I'm pregnant," she said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug.

  "You, you're...it's not a dangerous creature inside of you?" He clung to the other probable eventuality because that idea, that fact of a...was even more unimaginable than anything else to befall her.

  "No, at least not until it's had a good thirteen years or so to grow," she chuckled once, but it was a solemn and uncertain laugh.

  "What? How?" he stumbled through any word that he hoped would explain this impossibility, but none would suffice.

  Lana brushed her fingers against his forehead, "I was checking potions, the validity and strength of the health ones. Simple. Distillation had been a bit...never mind. In order to do it, I had to dip into the fade, measure my life force such as it is. And that's when I felt it. Something."

  She turned from him to swipe an arm across an array of bottles and scribbled notes. "I ran every test I could think of, cast every spell, even performed a few old wives tales because I was running out of ideas. And every single one came up the same."

  "Pregnant?" Cullen swallowed hard, what felt like a thousand nails sliding down his throat. This was the exact possibility that was never supposed to happen in their lives. He'd accepted it, embraced it, almost reveled in it, and now...

  "Maker's breath," he swooped up his wife, all but snuggling her in his arms, "are you, how are you feeling?"

  "Confused, and more confused," she gasped, her hands curling up to cling to his back. "I didn't think, never suspected that removing the taint would. That many years I'd assumed there'd be deleterious effects upon my..." She pressed her face tight to his chest while Cullen parted her curls, "This wasn't supposed to happen."

  A single laugh broke through his chest, his wife lifting away to stare into his eyes. He cupped her cheek and in a soft voice said, "Lana, the blight wasn't supposed to happen. Kirkwall wasn't supposed to happen. Maker knows Corypheus wasn't supposed to."

  "We've survived a lot of the unexpected," she said, a smile flitting with her lush lips.

  "Very much so."

  "Cullen, I..." her eyes darted down, "I want to be happy, I think. Excited, but I'm scared. The very potion that allowed this is in its infantile stages, tested on a few blighted animals and then two humans. What if...?"

  Her shoulders began to quiver, her lips falling slack as she sucked in a breath. He read her fears because the same scrawled upon his heart. "If," pressing her tight to his chest, he began to rock back and forth with her body in his arms, "if it doesn't take, then it's not meant to be. I will love you no matter what."

  A smile lifted a moment and she pressed her face against his chest, responding in kind. Chuckling, she raised her head, "That explains why I've been so moody lately. Silliest little thing just sends my mind flailing."

  Maker's breath, a child? He was nearing his forties with every breath and they were going to have a baby. A little, fragile baby raised in this abbey full of sick, dying, and mind-addled Templars. Deep inside of Cullen the panic began, jerking its finger at every way this would fail, but he wouldn't let it catch. Lana needed him to be her rock.

  She was trying to dab up her tears, shaking her head. "I never considered, I mean, I know how to deliver babies. I can feel when there's a breach, or if the child is in distress. But carrying one...what do I do? Is there something I should eat? Drink?"

  "Food, you'll probably want food. I doubt any will blink an eye at your appetite returning to what it once was," he smiled, somehow being the calm one. She was filling with another soul growing inside of her, not him. Ever since he plucked her out of the Fade, Cullen felt as if Lana was another part of him, but perhaps for the first time he realized how foreign she truly was. A child becoming one half of her and one half of him, tucked away inside of her womb. It was terrifying and awe inspiring as well.

  "There are books, probably. I should order some from Val Royeaux to read and..." Lana's eyes began to hunt around the room, searching for no doubt a quill or catalog.

  "Lana," he cupped her cheeks, softly focusing her upon him, "we'll get it. You'll use your beautiful mind to no doubt prepare for any eventuality that could possibly occur."

  "Me?" she scoffed, "says the man who approaches spring cleaning like he's leading an army through the mountains." The woman he loved returned, her panic ebbing away as she blinked her bottomless eyes up at him. />
  Cullen sighed, well aware of his faults. "I can get in contact with Mia. She's carried a few children, and I suspect will be a calming influence for us both."

  "Wait," Lana's hand caught his as if afraid he was about to do just that. "We should wait a few months, until we're sure that...it could be lost, or washed away." Pain lanced through her eyes; she was scared to grow attached to the life inside of her for fear that the taint that once filled her veins would wipe it away.

  Right. Cullen dipped down and scooped his wife into his arms. She gasped in surprise as he led her to their shared bed and placed her gently onto it. "What are you doing?"

  "You're going to need your rest," he said.

  "Maker's breath, it's not as if the baby's going to come popping out right this second," she chastised him.

  It was meant as a joke, but the image caught in Cullen's throat. A child, his child...there could be a boy or girl of his blood in this world. Shaking off the enormity of the concept, he sat down onto the bed and twisted to roll his eyes right into hers.

  Their noses bounced against each another, Cullen's hawk-like beak jabbing into her round one. Lana smiled at it, but the question was still there. What was he doing? Wrapping an arm over her side, he whispered to her beautiful brown eyes, "Let's lay here, together, just...talking. Worrying, fretting, laughing, I don't know. Being together..."

  Her lips lifted in a quick smile, which she pressed against his mouth. Those pillowy lips softened, the warmth and taste of her overwhelming him. "Okay, together," she breathed against his cheek.

  "Always," Cullen responded. He moved to snuggle her tight against him, when the memory struck. Rolling his eyes, his fingers pried out the short missive from the King, "I nearly forgot, you received a message."

  She ran her fingers over it, seeming uninterested in the outside world for now, but then her eyes caught the seal and Lana sat up. Cracking it, she devoured quickly what looked like only a few sentences. Cullen followed, an arm wrapping around her shoulder as he asked, "What's the man want now?"

  "He wrote to inform me that Reiss is with child," she said, the letter thudding to her lap. Lana twisted her head to him as she finished, "And that we should take precautions just in case."

  "I wonder if that man has ever managed to accomplish anything properly?" Cullen sneered.

  "Well, if she's really knocked up, there's at least once thing we know of," Lana laughed, earning a glare from her husband. She was quick to kiss it away, those soft fingers combing through his stubble as she guided him back to the bed with her. "I guess, no matter what happens, we're in this together. All four of us."

  Not one but two babies, both with the potential to be tainted. And out of them, the only one with any experience in this matter was Alistair. The Maker has a real sense of humor sometimes.

  CHAPTER THREE

  If He Asks

  12 weeks along...

  Blade flying through the air, Reiss threw up her arm just in time to deflect it against her bracer. "So much for you innocence, Cedric," she hissed at the human she all but fished out of the sewers. Bedraggled and scrawnier than most elves, he was nothing but bones and skin...and, sadly, a few knives pressed into his palms she failed to take into account.

  He shrieked, the first knife's blade sailing harmlessly by, but the second she had no easy way to block. Reiss tried to scurry back out of the culvert when she pressed tight to the wall. The knife's edge zipped back and forth through the air like a mad fly until slicing through her coat and sticking deep into her upper arm. Hissing in pain, she glanced over to find blood pooling across the not as well oiled hide of her signature coat.

  "Fine, you want to do this the hard way," she sneered, drawing the sword off her belt. Cedric was little more than a two copper thug in Denerim, one she'd rather not cut down if only for the sake of whoever had to clean up the body. But something must have spooked him good. Was he worried about selling out a bigger boss?

  Rolling her shoulders back into an instant soldier stance, Reiss' blade met first against one dagger, then the second. Striking hard enough to bend back Cedric's wrist, the dagger scattered to the shit filled swamp running below their feet. Even the bastard on his last leg wasn't stupid enough to go fishing for it. Still, he stared down in surprise before flipping his grip on the one remaining dagger. Good for going high, but it wasn't going to save him.

  Reiss' foot lashed out, the steel tip of her boots crunching into a knee. With no fat or muscle to get in the way, the bone all but shattered from her force, Cedric plummeting down. Smoothly, Reiss slid in behind him, her blade drawing tight to the ropey neck. The man trembled, terrified of how easily she could snuff him out.

  "Nice try," she mocked when a woosh of the stench of shit and urine collapsed off of Cedric's stringy hair. It kicked right into her tender stomach all but causing spots to burst in her eyes, but she hung on. "Now," Reiss coughed, trying to squelch her queasiness, "we're gonna do this again. Who paid you to slip the black lotus under Miss Simon's door?"

  Cedric mouthed a few words, no doubt coming off whatever he snorted to go into a blood rage -- as if that gave any fighting advantage for a street bully to take on a soldier. She tipped her ear closer, the blade glittering by the haunting lantern lights put out by the forgotten souls surviving in the sewers, when a clattering of boots echoed down the culvert.

  Her head snapped up to find another two of Cedric's group standing at the entrance. One carried a flail, most likely to do more damage to himself than anyone he attacked, and the other was clutching a crossbow. The criminal in her fingers began to chuckle, as if he had anyway out of this. Sadly, the arrival of his pals did change things, but not for his betterment.

  "I'd hoped to avoid bloodshed this evening," Reiss groaned, not in the mood to blot out all the stains. The other two hopped back and forth, as twitchy as Cedric.

  "Give 'em to us and we'll let you go, knife-ear," the taller one brayed.

  With her face shadowed below her hat, giving her an even more demonic look, Reiss' attentions shifted from one man to the other making certain they were watching. "No deal," she snarled and drew the blade clean across Cedric's throat. Blood spurted through the air, a professional knowing how to scissor the artery to exsanguinate the body fast. Reiss kept a tight hold to the dead man's corpse in the off chance crossbow remembered he had it, but she needn't bother.

  Faces stained white with terror, both men beat a hasty retreat. Loyalty that could be purchased only lasted when there wasn't a fear of death in the air. Hurling Cedric to the ground, Reiss whistled through the air and sheathed her blade. She made it a few feet out of the sewer to find one man cowering in the corner while Muse bared his teeth and snarled. The other was flat out on the ground, both dwarven twins digging into the criminal's spine while cuffing him.

  "Boss," Jorel called while his brother finished cinching up the restraints. "What do you want done with 'em?"

  "Take 'em to the guard house for now. They'll have to sober up before anyone's getting a word out," Reiss instructed.

  "P...p-please, call off your war hound," the second man whimpered from behind his hands. She whistled again, drawing Muse off from the man. Like stepping on a trap, the snarling beast transformed into the lovable goof that often rolled in dead fish he found behind the agency. Jorel was quick to cuff the second assailant, but he needn't have bothered. After that scare, the man seemed incapable of standing due to his trembling legs.

  "Not bad," Lunet said while stepping out of the shadows. She had a giant longbow slung over her shoulders in the event something went wrong. "You're gonna have that shit eating grin for a week, ain't ya?"

  Reiss sighed, but not too deeply at the insubordination. One, because it came from perhaps her dearest friend, and two, Lunet had the same grin. They'd been pursuing these shits for weeks and it'd be nice to put a pin in it all. Turning to look over her shoulder, pain seized up her arm and Reiss cupped the wound still weeping blood.

  "Maker's taint, you got stabb
ed?" Lunet reached over as if she could see the damage through her coat and large tunic.

  "It's nothing, a scratch. Still, better get it cleaned up," she sighed. "Men," Reiss ordered, "take care of those two, and get paperwork from the guardhouse upon their release. No way we're letting Fettain take credit for our work. Detective Lunet and I will be back at the agency."

  "Yes, Ser," both saluted before hauling up the men.

  Reiss leaned down to the agency's pet mabari, "Stick with 'em Muse. They may need backup."

  Muse woofed once and gave chase while Reiss and Lunet turned back to walk to their business. It didn't take long to find their sign teetering in the wind. The damn lock stuck, often leaving the door wedged slightly open, but no one even this close to the alienage was stupid enough to try and break in. You don't want to go robbing from people who are known for solving robberies. Reiss yanked off her hat, placing it upon the hook beside the door, then unfurled her coat.

  "I think it stopped bleeding," she mused to herself, inspecting the jagged wound that shrieked pain across her brain when touching it. Refraining from that would probably be wise then. Lunet didn't say anything, only twisted a chair around and patted the seat.

  "Let me take a look," she sighed, digging out their kit from a bottom drawer. A pair of bottles holding medicinal grade alcohol answered in kind but she left them behind.

  As Reiss settled down, she began to roll up the tunic that billowed across her tiny form. No one said much about their boss suddenly wearing larger shirts from out of nowhere. She was glad not to have anyone pressing questions, but also disappointed. Their job was to notice things off from the norm and draw conclusions. Maybe they needed to have more training.

  "Ah!" Reiss hissed, pain searing across her arm as Lunet drew back a cloth that stung. "That hurts!"

  "No shit, getting stabbed'll do that," she mused, her dark eyes little more than pupils in the low light of the agency. Lunet unraveled a string of catgut and began to thread the needle. "I can stitch it up, but maybe you should get it looked at proper. By one o' them college mages."