My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  "It is a nice reminder of why we're fighting. For the future," he curled his fingers against the baby's cheek a moment before tugging the hand behind his back. "And you, Lady Rutherford. I see no reason you cannot join us as well. You may have some insight we have overlooked."

  Lana smiled, "It'd be my pleasure."

  When they returned to the meeting room, a collective "Awe" rang out from every tongue at the cute baby cuddled in Cullen's arms. Maker, Lana was never more grateful for their not having to attend to Orlais. Her husband probably would have been ripped to pieces for such adorableness on display by every dowager in the damn country. After he passed the baby to Cassandra, whom Dorian instructed on how to not "accidentally ingest," Cullen helped Lana to a chair.

  It was strange to sit around one of these again, piles of vellum holding not letters from her friends nor formulas or spells, but scout reports. Curt and dry, plans and lists about who marched where and what was to come filled the pages. How many of those hatch marks were once people that'd fallen in battle or to the enemy? How many more would? She tried to shake off the impending sense of doom that seemed to trail her life how matter how hard she ran from it.

  Cullen slipped Gavin in between his thighs to sit on the chair, the baby clinging to the table, his mouth just at the right height to begin gumming it. After making certain his son was happy, if not ruining the furniture, he picked up a file and said, "Shall we begin?"

  Gaerwn tipped his head in acknowledgment, "The Commander is correct; we may all take turns cooing at the baby later. I assume." He ended that by extending a hand at Lana.

  She sat up higher and smiled, "Yes, of course."

  A dozen weary heads dove back into the matter, faces that'd already seen countless atrocities, stitched back together hundreds of rips to the flesh, forgone family or love for the sake of the cause. Why? Why did any of them get up each day at the crack of dawn, though in Dorian's case perhaps noonish? Why did they risk their hide and their homes, often every coin they had for this?

  Because someone had to.

  Lana turned to her baby happily gurgling against the table around which the future of thedas could be shaped. He had no idea what was going on, his greatest accomplishment that day was getting out Dada and melting his father in the process. For Gavin it was a typical day like any other. For so many people in thedas it was the same. Get up, go to work, head home, sleep.

  That was why they did it.

  Why she left the tower, stomped through the deep roads, and glared an archdemon in the eye. Why Hawke stood up against the Arishock, told Meredith where to stick her cursed sword. Why Gaerwn struck out to end the machinations of the world's first darkspawn.

  They did it so no one else had to.

  Scooping her fingers back behind Gavin's head, she mussed with his curls while also feeling Cullen's stomach below. It'd been stone, but at her touch she felt a momentary quiver. Glancing over she caught his eyes gazing at her with the same love they'd borne since the day they first met. She smiled back, holding their son who could be the next in this never ending line of saving the world. Maker turn your gaze upon him if it be so. She wanted better for Gavin, for all of them.

  Cullen added his hand over their baby's stomach, both parents holding him safe while his mind returned to the task at hand. "What is our next move?"

  "I'm afraid we don't have much say at the moment," Gaerwn began to pace, his arms locked behind his back. "Harding?" He turned to the dwarf but she was staring with eyes agog at the baby. "Scout Lace Harding?" Gaerwn continued.

  "...swift and cunning, arrows cut you down to size," a voice sang quietly from the back of the room. Lana caught a hint of pointed ears below all the blonde hair, but the come-and-get-some stance told her she wasn't a servant.

  "Hm?" Harding snapped away from trying to get Gavin to smile, "Right, uh, everything we know we already went over. At this point it's all on our contact in Tevinter."

  Cullen growled at that, his free hand flipping through the stacks of vellum while the other remained upon his baby. "What do we know about this person? Almost nothing in their history leads me to believe any of them stand a chance at pulling this off."

  At that Gaerwn chuckled, his hand cupping against his chin. "Dear Commander, what in the history of an apprentice mage, a Ferelden refugee, or a dalish scout in the wrong place, would ever let on that we were capable of saving the world?"

  "That..." Cullen's cheeks burned and he risked a glance over at Lana. "That's a fair point."

  "Indeed," Gaerwn tipped his head and resumed pacing about the table, every head following him. He'd been at this leader business for so long he practically breathed it now. Seemed the Maker finally got it right on his third go. Lana tried, but she didn't have the stomach to continually order people to their death. Hawke was even worse at it, hiding away in the closet from any semblance of power until it went away. But Gaerwn Lavellan was exactly what thedas needed to guide them all to the next safe rock in these rapids.

  "We must trust that our contact not only knows what to do, knows what is at stake, but..." he paused and turned directly towards Dorian, "knows how to elevate those that surround the cause."

  Lana hated being the Warden Commander, but she turned a rag tag team of cast offs and second stringers into a fighting force that continued to rattle thedas. Hawke used not allies but her friends, the close ones she turned to in every matter, to fight by her side. She drew them to her not out of a sense of duty but loyalty and love. The Inquisitor it seemed was the same. Years after Corypheus was finished, when people should have long scattered to the wind, and yet they all returned at his request. Andraste only knew how many more of his were out in the field gathering data and keeping an eye out for the wolf.

  Maker guide whoever this new contact in Tevinter was. Give him or her the grace and poise to find talent where none do, to gain strength from those friends and allies, and most importantly, to live life just a little. Forgetting that bit of fun, becoming the leader with a heart of stone without thought to levity or...love would be anyone's downfall.

  "Now, as to the matter of the Iron Bull's report on a situation in Nevarra..." the Inquisitor turned towards a fresh stack, when a tiny voice broke above him

  "Da, da, dada, dada," Gavin babbled, giving his own speech on what he thought should be accomplished. Cullen pinned him closer to his stomach then folded down to skirt his lips over their son's head. That encouraged Gavin more, his hands bouncing against the table as more of the two letter babble erupted.

  "An excellent idea," Gaerwn chuckled, "which we will have to table for the next meeting. In the mean time..."

  It was the darkest before the dawn. People said that often to her in the days of the Blight. She'd smile and nod, having no easy comeback while thinking 'Dawn is easy to predict, while the end of this terror across thedas may never come.' No one was promised a happy ending. You didn't receive a guarantee from the Maker that after the war was won, and the enemy slain, everything became perfect. Sometimes you lost. An arm. The right to re-enter your own city. Or the ability to stand for long, to face the darkness in your mind without someone at your side.

  Holding onto her baby's hand and letting him curl it around her finger, Lana smiled. No matter what was to come, she'd fight. She'd stand up for her baby, for everyone's babies once again because heroes could come from any race, any gender, any part of thedas -- tall, short, massive, wiry -- the options were endless, but they all had one thing in common. Heroes are tenacious bastards.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Black Wings

  23 Weeks Old...

  "Oh give it up, Maurice," Reiss' sighed, her arms crossed as she barely glanced at the armed man. From below the brim of her hat all he could see was the firelight lancing upon her eyes. The river was burning again courtesy of a festival of lights and summer, over time turning into one of depravity and starting things on fire. Someone got it in their heads to float small docks out into the bay with bonfires on top. When they
didn't light, what with them being doused in water, another genius added enough oil to burn down an olive grove.

  After the first flint struck, nearly half of the Drakon River lit up like Satinalia. In true Ferelden fashion they moved the boats out of the way, jammed a bunch of marshmallows onto sticks, and roasted them while people danced in the background. If you can't stop it, might as well have a few jollies out of your mess before the Watch comes to shut it down.

  "You ain't getting shit from me, flat ear," Maurice cursed, spitting at the ground. It was a bit strange to hear that one from a shem, but somehow the underground picked up on it meaning something bad against elves without understanding the what. "You're not even armed. Why should I be afraid of you?"

  Reiss rolled her fingers around a small stick in slow contemplation. Barely a glint of metal lifted off her chest courtesy of the armor she'd slapped on before heading off on this quest. "I never said it was me who'd get you to fork it over." She chuckled, tossed the stick out onto the pyre lapping beside their dock, then whistled.

  A hundred and twenty pounds of full grown mabari streaked out from between two dry dock boats, leapt into the air, and landed upon Maurice's chest. Snarling teeth dared him to try anything while Muse dripped foaming saliva upon him. "Okay, okay," Maurice gasped. "You win. I'll give it to you. Not like the blighted piece was worth anything. Ain't no one in town willing to touch it after they see the inscription."

  Reiss smiled while stepping closer to her dog. She leaned down to stare at the man trapped below and said, "Nice of you to finally see reason. Are you going to go quietly when I let you up, or will you make a fuss?"

  "What do you think?" Maurice groaned, all the toothless bite drained out of him.

  On her trip back to the agency with prize in hand, Reiss whistled to herself. It wasn't much of a tune, but people waved at her on their way to the parties scattered across town. All of Ferelden was in a jolly mood, but none could top hers. When she opened the door, Muse darted inside first with all the manners of a dog she partially trained. Reiss expected to look over at her people hard at work but the place was empty. Save for the lantern perched upon their front desk, it appeared closed.

  "Hello?" Reiss shouted. The door was left wide open, someone had to be there. She eased towards the back with one eye on the shadows, when Lunet's head popped up from around a corner. "Where is everyone?"

  "Where do ya think, Rat? It's past nightfall. Kurt's gone home while the rest are off drinking until they nearly fall into a bonfire."

  Reiss whipped back to stare at the darkness she'd forgotten about even while using it. Time flooded away from her, the entire day spent scrounging in back alleys and watching from around corners until she spotted her target. Lunet folded her arms tight and sighed, "Well...?"

  The spark returned to her win and she lifted her hard won prize over her head. "I got it." Drawing back the scrap of leather, Reiss revealed the golden blade that'd hung in their office since the first days. She'd followed every lead herself, leaving the others to focus on matters that would bring in coin. Often times Reiss would have to bring Myra clinging to her back into old sell-off shops and backrooms to talk business with people that'd sooner chop her ears off to make a purse than talk.

  But it was all worth it to have their symbol back where it belonged.

  Reiss glanced around the empty office and sighed, "I'd rather hoped everyone else would be around for my triumphant retrieval. We could all share a drink and put it back on the wall together."

  At that Lunet chuckled, "Save the hanging ceremony for tomorrow, assuming people aren't drunk enough to accidentally nail their hand up instead. For now..." She slid back towards their working area they'd had to redesign. Some of it was to spread four people over two desks and make it functional, the rest was to fit in the crib. Myra was nestled in it, fast asleep with her mouth open while she snuggled tight to her favorite stuffed nuggalope.

  Over the passing weeks furniture arrived for their baby, the first being a crib that was sturdy but plain. Reiss had Jorel and Kurt juggle them, much to the dwarves cursing dismay, so that Myra would spend her naps in the cheap one downstairs and her nights up in Reiss' room. There were also packs of clothes, diapers, toys -- Alistair was good on his word and only sent things for the baby which no one blinked an eye at. There was however...

  Lunet gestured to her desk, "Our 'mysterious benefactor' sent us a crate of Antivan rum and a basket of muffins. The dwarves ate all the good ones with the berries, but I think there's a rolled oat one remaining if you got the stomach for it."

  He wasn't going to let her starve, no matter how stubborn she got about it. Reiss felt stupid for digging her heels in on the matter, realizing with a less clouded head and vengeful heart that she didn't have to hurt herself to be worthy of existence. She was about to tell him that when the packages arrived. Food, usually cakes or little delectables meant for the entire office and signed only 'mysterious benefactor' arrived on the regular. It took all of two seconds for Reiss to figure out who it was, and Lunet five -- not that either woman had to admit the truth.

  "Skip the muffin," Reiss said. "I ate enough fried dough to murder a bronto while waiting outside the festival."

  Lunet unearthed a set of new mugs, then yanked the cork out of the bottle with her teeth. Through it she asked, "Ain't you supposed to be working?"

  While she watched her blue and green mug fill with liquor, Reiss flopped down into her chair, "I was. It's called blending in to not spook your target. Also hungry. You try standing around for hours with that crispy fat scent in the air and not buy some."

  Lunet chuckled at that while handing over her mug. Reiss waited until Lunet had hers in hand as well. She turned to her baby deep in sleep and spotted Sylaise guarding over Myra like a great sphinx. The cat liked to perch upon the corner of the crib and stare down at the baby. If Myra so much as twitched in sleep, Sylaise would scurry down to find Reiss and mewl until she checked on her baby. She didn't expect to have a nanny that was so furry, but Reiss was grateful for any help she got.

  "How'd things go with her?" Reiss asked.

  "Don't go getting all overprotective on me. We played, she ate that mashed goop you left behind, we played a new game called 'Let's tip over Lunet's shit and then laugh as she has to mop up ink.' Then down for the night." Lunet paused and looked over her mug at Reiss. "What? Were you expecting, 'she cried her eyes out all day 'cause she missed her mummy?'"

  "Maybe, a little," Reiss sighed at her little girl getting so much bigger every day. "Eh, this isn't the time for melancholy. We should celebrate," she said, clinking her mug into Lunet's.

  "Damn straight. Here Rat, to you for digging your heels in and bringing back that stupid sword you never even really cared about."

  She summed up the problem only how Lunet could and then tipped her drink back. Lunet could down half the mug in a swallow but Reiss had to go much slower, her tolerance of alcohol taking a big hit after Myra. So many changes that happened after a baby no one ever warned you about, so many problems.

  "I never took our 'mysterious benefactor' as the spirits type, outside of something fermented in a shoe at the back of a closet, but this shit's good. Nice and smooth," Lunet damned Alistair with faint praise. She lapped up her drink, then caught Reiss' mostly full mug. Rather than drinking it, she was too focused on her baby slumbering peacefully in the fade.

  A day away and Myra didn't even care. Did she already forget about her?

  Maker's sake, Rat. Reiss pinched herself and shook her head. She's your daughter, your infant daughter, she loves you. She needs you. Don't be stupid. Taking a greater shot, Reiss had to smack her lips as the fried dough taste mixed with the rum to slide down into her too full stomach. "We'll come back," Reiss swore to herself.

  "Aye, we're getting there," Lunet nodded, her eyes turning towards the stack of potential work. People weren't flocking to their doors, but there were more than a few postings to the chantry board they pilfered. Coin was coin at th
is point. "Do you need me to stay with you for the night?"

  "Hm...?" Reiss turned from the case of a missing mirror to face Lunet.

  "I was thinking about heading down to the festival by the docks, heard a few more of the elves from Orlais moved into the city. A couple of 'em are real pretty," she winked like her old self, but Reiss spotted the tenderness below. It was her first time getting back out into the cesspool of courting since Harding.

  "Sure, sure, you should go on. Meet someone lovely, seduce her, and break her heart," Reiss smiled which caused Lunet to roll her eyes. "Alistair will be coming by later."

  Pointing to the dead street and black night, Lunet asked, "Later? How much later can one get?"

  "He said it'd be pretty late, something about an emergency meeting which was pissing off all the people who wanted to get the festival. Besides," Reiss turned to the mabari that was eyeing up that oat muffin with the hungriest eyes she'd ever seen, "I have Muse here to keep me company."

  "Good to know my presence is outmatched by a slobbering creature that's likely to lick its own genitals before kissing you," Lunet smiled wickedly and Reiss caught on where she was going.

  "Don't," she warned, but her friend shifted uncomfortably on her feet, the quip building inside of her like gas. "That's her father," Reiss tipped her head to the sleeping baby unaware of anything going on.

  Lunet shrugged, "So you're saying just cause he made another brat I can't poke fun anymore?"

  "No, just don't go for such an obvious joke. Really. Anyone here woulda seen it coming a mile away. I expect better from you," Reiss laughed, finishing off her rum.

  "Forgive me for not being of sparkling wit after a day of babysitting a squealing dwarf and your half-blood," she meant it as a laugh, but Reiss pursed her lips and turned back to her clearly human baby. Myra remained long for her age, but sure enough the chubby fat rolls appeared around her midsection and thighs. It was achingly adorable, leaving many to comment about wishing to eat her baby, but it wasn't elven. Nothing about her was.