At the back and doing her best to not be caught out in it stood Reiss. She was miserable. Surprisingly, it wasn't due to her feeling put out as the lone stranger in a sea of family and friends working towards a holiday. In fact, Philipe talked to her for a good hour before Renata caught wind of his hiding and drug him back to the kitchens to help out. And a few of Queen Beatrice's sisters were polite if not highly uncertain about the pregnant elf.
No, her problems all lied within her belly. Three days she'd been waffling with near on labor. Twice she woke Alistair from her bed, dead certain it was time, only to have the trembling fade. For the love of the Maker, the baby flipped over nearly a month ago. She was swollen in every joint that could swell, exhausted, hadn't seen her feet in a month, couldn't lay on her stomach, couldn't squat, could barely move unless given probable cause. It had to end or there was a good chance Reiss would go mad.
Spinning away from his daughter attempting to add cottony snow to the tree branches, Alistair left his perch as the master of ceremonies to slide an arm around Reiss. "What do you think?" he asked, tipping his head towards the lone tree his daughter was making all her childlike own.
"It's very lively," Reiss said diplomatically.
"Caywin, no!" the girl shouted, waving her hand at her brother who was trying to add his own red ball to the mess.
"Spud..." Alistair warned, barely looking back to see if she complied. Growling, with her little arms crossed, she stepped back to let her ecstatic brother shove the ornament upon a branch. Seeing as he was three, he didn't realize it needed to be hung upon a wire and the ball rolled off the branch and smashed to the ground. The child didn't cry at his failure, but clapped his hands. It seemed to catch his sister's eye as well, the pair of them shoving the mercifully unbroken ball further down the great hall.
"Should you stop them?" Reiss asked, watching the pair dart in and out around the pots with their new toy.
"They're happy and not currently breaking anything," Alistair said, "I'm not saying a word. So..." He stopped watching his children as his voice grew husky, his lips waffling against the skin of her neck, "you've been very good this year. What are you hoping for from our dear Andraste?"
Reiss wished she could give in to his moves, but the heartburn that never went away flared back up. Groaning, she spat out, "All I want for Satinalia is to be free of this nightmare and have a baby in my arms." He paused at that, those puppy eyes blinking in concern at her bitter tongue. Rolling her hand across his cheeks, she tacked on, "Baring that, a pony."
The smile she wanted lifted on him, "I don't know if an army is in the habit of dropping off ponies before it marches, but..." His mischievous eyes darted back and forth as he leaned closer to her ear, "I've heard talk of one way to get a baby out quickly?"
Dear Maker, she'd tried them all. Every blighted old wives tale from drinking felandris oil to eating five hot peppers, no doubt contributing to her heartburn. There'd even been a ride in a carriage with Lunet, which began as a way to try to induce labor but turned into her spying an attempted murder on the street and having to send her friend after it. At least Reiss hadn't fully lost her touch even as this baby was pushing every button inside of her but the eject.
She turned to Alistair, anticipating his answer to be something she had to eat, or drink, or rub all over her body for five hours a day. His eyebrows undulated and a great grin answered, "It's the same thing that made the baby in the first place."
"That..." He had to be kidding. Then again, she'd try anything to get this thing out of her. "Really?"
"Heard it from a few people. Granted, it was more when Bea was big enough to pop and I had no say in that matter, but..." Alistair circled his hand up and down her arm, his eyes so impishly adorable she'd have given in even if it wouldn't get this labor party started. Too bad there were other problems.
"That's nice in theory, but..." Reiss shook her head. "You can't mean now." There were dozens of people crowded around them, too busy to listen in, while Alistair was being father to the country.
He let his mouth inch close to her ear to whisper, "I rather doubt they'll notice my disappearance for an hour or so."
"An hour?" Reiss scoffed. "You'll get ten minutes, tops, before I either have to pee or lay down."
Maker, that should have shaken him off, but he seemed enthralled with the idea. "Challenge accepted," Alistair grinned, his hand sliding in behind her back.
"Alistair, that..." Reiss began, but he interrupted her.
"Karelle?" The dutiful chamberlain looked over. "I'm gonna help Reiss up to her room for a nap. Think you can keep an eye on my two terrors 'til then?"
"Aye Sire..." she smiled at him, the woman in a festive mood. Then the sound of breaking glass followed by hyperactive giggling caused her to groan, "I shall do my best."
"Wait until there's another one wreaking havoc with them," Alistair said to her, earning an even louder groan. Before Karelle could go back on her word, or pummel him with her clipboard, he began to guide Reiss towards the stairs.
This was foolish, silly, to be leaving a crowded ballroom in order to have sex with the King in some attempt to get his child to come out faster. Reiss pinched up her nose and shook off the crown. Her eyes glanced over to the man with his arm wrapped around her, a gorgeous and sweet man that'd often wash her pots while naked because she forgot to make room. It wasn't a King's child she was carrying but Alistair's.
Calmed by that, Reiss let her head drop to his shoulder as they walked up the stairs, and her hand pinched his tight ass.
* * *
A dozen heavenly voices sang to the prophet Andraste, as well as the King's court and family gathered in the hall. They'd left the meal behind to all stand around the interior decorated forest and the dais before it. Reiss did her best to sample all of Renata's hard work while eating as little as possible. It was good, the best she'd ever had for the holiday, but her stomach was rumbling worse than before. Every breath brought up a pinch from deep inside, perhaps the baby unhappy with their afternoon eviction attempt.
While Alistair had sat perched upon the host chair beside the Queen with an elderly Eamon and Isolde to the left, Reiss took up a chair near the middle of the table. It surprised her she wasn't down at the bottom with the rest of the not-nobles, but every once in awhile Alistair would look up from his meal and flash her a cheeky grin. No doubt he was mentally playing back his attempt at the best quickie he could manage, the man putting a lot of pride in his work. Which did deserve accolades, Reiss had to admit. Even while she was frustrated and in pain, he was amazing at distracting her to orgasm.
Maker's sake, Rat! She tried to fan her cheeks as she realized she was thinking about...that, while surrounded by the castle's children and most of the chantry. The Grand Cleric stood less than a stone's throw away from her, her arms folded into her robes as she watched the proceedings with an amused smile. Amazingly, few drew attention to the unwed, about to be mother standing in their midst. Karelle spoke to her for a bit, and the Bann who sat across from Reiss at the table struck up a polite conversation about her work. But otherwise, they treated her as if she wasn't special, but not a threat either. Just another body in their midst.
Alistair stood in front of the group closest to the choir fanned out before the glittering forests. He had Cailan perched on his shoulders, the boy dressed in a fine green velvet suit coat, while the princess kept trying to tug the tiara out of her hair. The girl stood beside her father, one gloved hand holding onto his and the other fluffing her golden skirt back and forth. Every once in awhile the Queen would lean over and tell her daughter to stand up straight.
They looked like a happy family watching the festivities for the holiday.
Reiss would always skip this, leaving him to the palace and his children for holidays while she toiled away at work. Of course, Alistair would insist they still celebrate whatever day they skipped later, often decorating her tiny apartment in eggs or pages of the chant to do it. She never much minded
missing out, the holidays were incidental to an elf that went from farm girl, to refugee, to migrant worker. Only the very devout Andrastian would insist their workers get the day off to bask in her glory. Most preferred to leave the elves out in the field while they all dressed in their best to head to the chantry.
What did you get yourself into?
Her hand drifted over her stomach, trying to calm the constant twitching from inside. Was Lunet right? Would Reiss be standing behind the royal family clinging to their child while the Grand Cleric droned on about civility and purity of heart? How many of these things did Alistair grit his teeth through, seeming to only survive because of the grace of his children? And how many would he expect their baby to attend?
A little late to be worrying about that now, isn't it Ress?
Taking a steadying breath, she caught the concerned eye of Karelle. The chamberlain with a giant red bow perched upon the small of her back scooted through the throngs to dip down to Reiss. "Are you well?"
"Yes," she gritted her teeth in a forced smile.
"You look as if you have a bobcat inside you," Karelle whispered.
"It..." Reiss shook off another round of the kid's punches and kicks. Maker's sake, this baby never seemed to stop. That's what she got for carrying the child of two warriors. "That sounds accurate somedays."
"Should I get you a chair?" Karelle asked, waving her hand out towards one.
Reiss gripped the woman's hand and shook her head. "No, I'm..." She didn't want to be out of place. Everyone else was standing. She could suck it up too. "It'll pass. It always does."
"Very well," Karelle said, "but if..."
Her words drowned out as the Grand Cleric stepped up to the small dais while the choir shifted further to the back in deference. She had on her best robes, starched and pressed until nearly blinding and tipped her great hat. "Ladies, Gentlemen, my Lord," she bowed a bit at Alistair who gave a cheery wave before gripping back onto his son, "we stand here tonight in remembrance of our brave Andraste and her struggle to rise up against the mage oppression. Magic should serve man and never rule over him. These are the words of our fair Maker as told to his Bride and imparted to us. We often forget what oaths we swore, letting time erode promises made to our offices, our friends, our wives and husbands."
Ah crap, Reiss tried to not groan. She was talking at her. Great, fantastic. Was the woman going to point out, "And look, we have our own example of a whore right here?" Yes, she kept on this life. Yes, she was sleeping with a married man. Fine, she was carrying his child. Let's all gawk and maybe throw stones, that will fix things. Starving children in the street a problem? How about we burn an adulterer? That ought to work.
"It is our duty to do what was right, not always what is easy," the Grand Cleric continued, somehow managing to not jab wildly at Reiss in the crowd. "And on this day as we sit in honor of the brave souls who plucked tree from root and carried a forest across enemy lines to free us all out of magic's tyranny, think upon their sacrifice."
Funny how all those souls were considered to be human. Every statue done up for Satinalia was always of the same three faces with nary a pointy ear in sight despite it being Shartan who marched Andraste's armies. Reiss didn't even think a thing of it until she walked past the alienage that had an elven statue carrying a tree. History was written by the ones who needed to make sure they looked the best in it.
"Let us bow our heads and pray," the Grand Cleric continued. Every head tipped down, hands clasping while the woman stretched her arms out to try and hug her flock. "Maker, creator of all, from You we came, and to Your side we shall return. To us You sent Your most beloved Andraste to usher us from the chains and break off the collar of mage oppression. On this day of her decisive victory over the ancient Imperium we give thanks to You, to Your Bride, and to our blessed Divine Victoria."
That last part got a few rumblings through the crowd, some mouths unhappy with just how many poor and enslaved souls the Divine was bringing into the chantry. Maker, was this what Atisha was putting up with in the Grand Cathedral? Or did everyone have to play even nicer there? Reiss' thoughts were thrown off as a new twist seized up her stomach. Calm down, kid. It'll be over soon and she could fall into a chair.
"In Andraste's name we pray," the Grand Cleric smiled, her eyes shining at the attention. "May the gaze of the Maker and of his Bride turn upon you always."
"Holy shit!" Reiss screamed, buckling to a knee as her curse reverberated through the deathly silent hall. Her curse tainted the pure air, every folded palm yanking apart in shock. She should have felt embarrassed as all the tongues moved to cluck her to death for such a crass interruption but it felt as if her insides were trying to rip in half. "Owe, owe, owe," she groaned, her head tipping to her chest to face another oncoming storm of pain. A hand grabbed onto hers and she squeezed tight, trying to will everything knotting her up through it.
As it passed, she lifted her eyes to find it was Karelle holding her hand, a perturbed look upon her lips. A great space formed around Reiss, everyone doing their best to get away from the blaspheming woman, when Alistair bounded through a few feathered Banns.
"Reiss?" he called, dropping to a knee and taking her entire arm in his. "What is it?"
She shook her head, spots darting against her vision. "Don't know. Lot of pain real fast and hard."
"Contractions?" the Queen's voice drifted above her, and both Reiss and Alistair turned to it. Beatrice held Cailan in her arms, her emerald eyes darting down to the mistress gasping in pain.
"Maybe, it's... Damn it, not another one," Reiss reached out and clasped tight to Alistair's shoulder. Digging in tight, she let another wave of pain pass before starting into his eyes.
"Okay," he looked ghostly white, stricken from her pain. Damn it, he's already been through this before. He was supposed to be her expert. Carefully, Alistair helped Reiss to her feet. He had one hand around her back as if afraid she might buckle again.
"Seems there's going to be a baby soon. I'm gonna help her up to the room, you all carry on with the celebration," Alistair called to the mob. He nodded at Karelle who was gripping tight to her clipboard. It took a moment before she glanced up and nodded dumbly.
As Alistair and Reiss slowly limped towards the stairs, guests scattering from her like she carried the blight, Beatrice asked, "Do you...require any help?"
Alistair's confused eyes met Reiss and all she could do was shrug. "I think we've got it now. You stay with the kids," he said to his wife and Queen.
"Very well," Beatrice cuddled tight to her son as Alistair and Reiss scurried away from every judgmental eye and no doubt clucking tongue.
"Maker's fucking hemorrhoids," Reiss groaned, tumbling to the bed they'd been preparing for this eventuality.
"Another contraction?" Alistair asked. He began to strip off his fancy shirt which Reiss eyed up as she rolled over onto her back.
"No, me, making a total ass out of myself in front of...pretty much every single important person in Denerim."
"It wasn't that bad," Alistair laughed, tossing his shirt to the desk and then rubbing her arm.
"No, you're right, every important person in Ferelden. Good thing I never go to the chantry because I sure as shit can't stick my head in there ever again," Reiss wallowed, feeling her life shatter in an instant.
"Reiss," Alistair circled his hands around her cheeks, tugging her face up to his, "You're going to have a baby. A little cursing's allowed. Pretty sure everyone in that room knows how it goes."
"Old crusty Mothers who haven't seen a dick in decades?" she shot back, her normally held in check crassness snapping out. Reiss was trained to bite her tongue in the presence of her betters, but with pain jarring her every breath she wanted to curse worse than Lunet walking on a rusty nail.
Alistair found it hilarious, a laugh stretching his lips until he planted them to her forehead. She folded her arms across her aching chest, and sniped, "This isn't funny."
"It's... Okay, right
now, with you in pain, it's not funny. But in a few weeks, or months, or when the kid's bringing a significant other to meet the parents..."
Maker take her, but he looked so damn cute while trying to appease her. No, that was what got you into this mess in the first place! Reiss pushed her palm against his cheek as much to try and tell him he was being an idiot as to keep herself distracted. Alistair took it all in stride, which didn't surprise her much.
"Milord, we came as soon as we could," a twin pair of midwives appeared along with the silent healer who barely spoke two words, wasn't exactly wild about sitting in on a birth, but agreed because otherwise he'd get shipped back to the College.
"Here's your patient," Alistair chuckled, stepping back to reveal Reiss stretched out upon the bed. "But I should warn you, she's feisty."
"I swear to the Maker, I will..." Reiss waved her fist at him, which he caught and then pressed a kiss to.
While the midwives smiled politely and prepped Reiss for what was to come, Alistair kept ahold of her fist. He wouldn't even let her unclench her fingers, just clung tight to her as if afraid she might suddenly vanish. It wasn't until one of the twins, Maker she was never going to be able to tell the difference, stuck her head down between Reiss' legs that Alistair shifted.
"Careful or I may have to challenge you to a duel of honor," Alistair joked.
"Milord?" the poor girl's rosy cheeks faded to fear.
"He's kidding. He does it a lot," Reiss raced to reassure the woman that should be assuring her. "What's the...what'll happen?"
"Labor has begun, but I fear we are in for quite a wait yet," she announced, turning back to smile at her sister who was slowly laying out at first towels and now various metal instruments of torture.
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