Lana tried to wave for Alistair to stop her, but it was Morrigan who did. She didn't flinch at the attack, didn't even raise her hands. Folding them across her chest, Morrigan said, "Oh, I should have mentioned, I put a curse on your child. If I do not reset it once every twenty four hours, then she will die."
Reiss skidded to a halt, her eyes darting down to the baby who didn't look at all like she carried a death sentence over her head, "You..."
"Bitch!" Lana whipped her head over at her, "You'd put a death hex upon an infant?!"
"It's far more complicated than that, Amell. Do not think you, nor your templars can easily dispel it. So," Morrigan slapped her hands together, "you're all free to leave whenever you want. You're correct, it's doubtful I could stop you all on my own. But if you want that child to live, I wouldn't venture too far. I will not release her from the curse until mine awakens and is safe."
Cuddling her baby tighter to her cheek, Reiss tried to soothe down the back and mussed up hair of the child unaware of the ticking clock over her head. Alistair wrapped himself around the pair of them, but he glared at the witch that effectively trapped the six of them in the deep roads for Maker knew how long.
Cullen approached Lana, a hand skirting under her elbow to try and take her weight. She shook off the fade arcing under her fingers and all but collapsed into his arms. "What do we do?" he asked, his eyes widening.
"Set up camp," Lana said, staring around at what was to become their new home, "while I get to work."
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Now What?
For an hour, Reiss refused to let Myra leave her arms. Even as the baby swung her head around trying to spot these new strangers, even as she slapped into her mother's hands impatiently wishing to be set free -- Reiss clung to her child while whispering prayers of gratitude to anyone listening.
Myra was alive.
The next step was making her safe.
Alistair clung close, constantly fussing with his daughter's hair as if he had to get it just right. Every time he'd lift her wheat hair skyward, Myra would swipe an arm across it ruining his work. It became a game, the daughter destroying what her father created. He didn't groan, didn't grimace, just got back to it a small smile on his face.
She was alive.
She wasn't hurt and wasn't really hungry. Reiss tried a bit, and while Myra took in a few samples she didn't gorge herself the way her mother feared. For the past two nights, Reiss lived in fear of her baby starving because there was no one to fill her belly. The witch must have done something to her...
"I know that look," Alistair whispered beside her ear.
Reiss jerked her chin towards the witch. She'd shuffled the Hero deeper into her stolen abode, Lana left beside a giant stack of books while Morrigan took a knee beside the body of her son. At this distance it was hard to tell if he was really alive. It would be so easy for someone to smother the nose and mouth, finish off this stalemate quickly and let everyone return to their lives.
"She'll pay," Reiss said. Myra shuffled in her hands, wanting down badly but her mean mother wasn't ready to let go.
"Yeah..." Alistair's eyes trailed from the witch down to the boy. But that wasn't a boy, he was practically a man now. A man who would make his own decisions, live his own life away from whatever created him. The sins of the mother... Reiss wanted to be cold enough to finish this off herself, but technically that boy was her child's only true brother.
"My squirmy worm," Alistair rubbed into Myra's back, her big green eyes fixing on his nose before she smiled wide. "Maker, I feared I'd never see that again," he began to weep even while returning the grin with his Wheaty. Cupping his hands to her chubby cheeks, Alistair bonked his forehead into hers and said, "Never run away with scary witches ever again. You promise me?"
Myra giggled at her daddy being silly and then paddled her hands out to smack into his nose. "I'm going to hold you to that promise," he said. The tears stopped, but Alistair didn't reach up to dry away the evidence.
"Here," Reiss slipped Myra into his arms, "I think it's your turn now."
Quick to snuggle her to his chest, Alistair buried his face into the top of Myra's fine hair, no doubt more tears falling as he felt the full weight of her. It seemed a cruel trick of the mind to have their baby back until Reiss was holding her, having to adjust for the grabby hands wanting to explore everything. "I love you, you know. Mummy and Daddy were," he glanced up a moment at Reiss and grabbed onto her freed hand. "We were scared without you. And now I don't know if I'm going to tell her this story every single day until she's sick of it, or never mention it again."
Reiss slid closer to him, laying her head upon his shoulder while hugging both. She wished it could be a fun story about the time their little girl went for a trip across the country, but it wasn't over yet. There was a curse hanging over Myra's head, and as much sway as Lana seemed to have over the witch, she doubted the witch was very patient.
"You are doing everything you can to slide out of my arms, kid," Alistair groaned, succumbing to the same wiggling that nearly tipped Reiss over. When Myra had a mind to something, she'd do it, and right now she wanted to explore this old dwarven ruin. "Tell ya what, how about I hold you, and then we all walk together? Will that work?"
Myra babbled, her favorite syllable being ay, which they always interpreted as a yes. Do you want a bath? Ay ay ay. Do you want to eat these mashed up peas? Ay ay ay. Do you want to have your parents smother you in love and attention because they feared they'd never see you again? Reiss gripped tighter to the both of them, the terror never really leaving her body. No doubt feeling it too, Alistair tried to return the hug even as their little Ay-ay kept wiggling in his arms.
"Okay, I'm walking. Now over here we have what I assume is the foyer or greeting room. This is where dwarves would stand around declaring who among them had the best beard. They'd all fight in the arena for beard honors and the losers would have to shave. Very dishonorable," Alistair babbled like a tour guide while vibrant green eyes stared around in awe. Reiss had to agree with her baby, it was impressive. Easily three, perhaps four stories high, the room stretched beyond what any family would require. Pillars propped up the tall ceiling, each one oddly shaped like people if they were made out of poorly hewn rock.
Turning to the right, Alistair led his baby into a new room with octagonal shaped doorways. It must have been important to whoever lived here because eight sided everything was in fashion. Octagon windows, doors, tables, even what may have been a bed frame. "This was probably someone's bedroom. No doubt for a dwarf that was a little obsessed with the number eight or geometry. What's geometry?" Alistair asked as Myra began to flap her arms. "Well, as I understand it, it's when a bunch of grey haired alchemists get together and in order to show who's the smartest proceed to prove that a circle is in fact round. You'd think they could just ask any kid on the street what circles are shaped like, but that'd ruin the fun, I guess. Also, never ask them to help you cheat at billiards. They get kinda icy then."
"What's through door number two?" Alistair continued onward deeper into the exploring. They emerged into another room with far too much space. Perhaps it had once been an armory, or held some ancient dwarven technology that'd long been picked clean. It would be completely forgettable save the one man struggling to lay out a blanket on the recessed floor.
After making certain the ground was properly cushioned, the Commander undid some secret strap to slide his baby carrying device around. His son began to wave his arms in excitement while the father did his best to free the boy without being slapped on accident. Reiss smiled a bit at the care he showed his boy, when she caught Myra staring at the scene. Her eyes were so wide they nearly filled her face, all movement frozen while she trailed this new person that was her size.
"Pst," Reiss whispered, jabbing an elbow at Alistair.
"Hm..." he glanced down at his daughter enraptured with the baby laying on his stomach on the blanket. "Oh, no. No, I'm telling you right now,
I forbid you from falling in love with the Rutherford boy. I don't care if he came to your balcony at night to sing his devotion and a priest offered to make you both appear dead. It's not happening."
Reiss folded her arms, "I think she just wants to play. She's never really been around another baby before."
"Is that all?" Alistair moved to wipe his brow off, sliding sarcasm drops free, "Whew. Okay, kid..." He was careful to step sideways down the five steps into this recessed area of the floor. It too was octagonal shaped, about twenty feet wide and the perfect place to pin in a couple of babies. No wonder the Commander searched it out.
Cullen sat down beside his son who was patting at the ground in concentration. When he heard footsteps, he glanced up at them and surprisingly didn't wince. "Have a seat," he sighed. "Gavin's been trying to beat the floor into submission. Aren't you?"
The boy lifted his head high, trying to twist it around to find his father, but his amber eyes landed upon the baby in Alistair's hands. He froze, watching in pure curiosity as Myra landed butt first onto the blanket. Both babies stared at each other from at most four feet away, their eyes widening as they seemed to be taking in the idea of someone so much like themselves.
"I feel like there should be tumbleweeds rolling by while they dare each other to draw first," Alistair mumbled.
Perhaps it was her father's voice, or she finally snapped out of her shy spell, but Myra smiled wide and began to clap her hands in excitement. That set off Gavin, a laugh breaking as he raised up onto his hands and knees and crawled right towards their baby. Myra was enthralled with this movement and she began to bounce up and down on her butt.
"Is she crawling yet?" Cullen asked. He leaned onto his side, keeping a close watch on his son but seeming to be more at ease than he'd ever been before.
"Nope," Alistair said, "what you see is what you get. Wheaty bounces up and down like she's on a horse to get where she wants to go."
Gavin paused right before ramming his head into Myra and then pulled back to sit on his butt. Both babies resumed staring at each other, their hands almost reaching across the void to touch. Every near miss made them giggle more, as if it was all hilarious. The boy seemed set in his spot, but Myra resumed her bouncing. It wasn't always in a straight line, sometimes she'd list to the side or veer off from her intended target, but this time she hopped right towards Gavin.
"I thought here might be a good spot for him to stretch out on his stomach," Cullen said, seeming to need something to say that had nothing to do with a witch, curses, or however they'd get out of this mess.
"Myra despises tummy time," Reiss spoke up.
"Really?" the first time father was shocked that babies could be so different.
"Instant tears, gnashing of toothless jaws, the works," Alistair chuckled. His little girl had managed to swipe far enough forward her hand was patting into Gavin's chunky thigh. The slap was soft but apparently funny as she'd touch him, then he'd touch the same spot. "I think she prefers watching the world go by. And all the people."
"Not a lot of that down here," Reiss muttered, her hands bunching up into fists. When fingers bounced against hers, she looked over into Alistair's worried eyes. He probably feared she was going to do something ill thought out because of her rage. It was hard for her to not see red when looking at the witch, but Reiss had no intentions of risking her daughter's life for her vengeance.
The other father fell silent at her comment, Cullen staring hard at his son who rolled onto his back. Myra kept dipping her fingers into his mouth, which he noshed on, much to her amusement. Her string of 'ay's' returned, seeming to tell this other baby all of her wild adventures for the past two days. At that Gavin spoke up, his syllable of choice seeming to be 'da.'
Da's and Ay's overlapped each other, the pair staring in rapture at this other baby. Alistair chuckled, "Already saying dada. Impressive. Lana's influence, no doubt."
"He usually uses it to mean everything from food, to sleep, to doggie, but there does seem to be an intonation that means me," Cullen explained. Reiss didn't know the Commander well, a fact of soldier life in the Inquisition and one that Alistair helped reinforce outside of it. While she wasn't one to take a guess about the man's typical state, he seemed softened by his son. The voice was smoother and his eyes didn't have a fire she remembered at the battle in the arbor wilds.
Gavin continued to babble, when he blinked his amber eyes, then lifted his head. Sure enough a slightly different, "dada" that sounded more coherent than the others, caused Cullen to inch closer. "I'm here. You're okay," he whispered, his fingers reaching down to lightly tickle Gavin's stomach. The same dada launched from those thick baby lips and he grabbed onto Cullen's hand.
That grizzled, brash Commander who'd scare recruits straight if he accidentally gazed upon them melted into a puddle of bliss at the small contact of his son. He tipped his head down close to his boy who was too busy trying to yank a ring off to notice. "What occurred with your daughter..." Cullen whispered, glancing up at both Reiss and Alistair.
Instinctively, Alistair darted a hand around her back, holding tight. That caused Myra to turn over to stare at her father and then release some more Ays about whatever she was working on; perhaps trying to understand her wily foot. "Sorry about, you know, dragging you from your home, trapping you here until Lanny pulls off a miracle, giving us these wonderful accommodations..." Alistair waved a hand around the dwarven ruins that stank of fetid air and blood. There was a lot of blood, Reiss realized.
"No," Cullen interrupted, "it...if there comes a time when you plan to turn on the witch," he looked up into Alistair's eyes, "you have my blade."
Alistair blinked in surprise, then turned over to Reiss, "You...you'd go against your wife? Her and Morrigan are always a little--"
"If it came to it, though I suspect given time she'd see reason."
"Th..." he swallowed and reached out to the Commander with his hand. "Thank you," Alistair said gripping to his hand and shaking it. The idea of going against the woman he loved for the greater good seemed to have drained Cullen, his eyes hanging down as he watched his son. Alistair returned to holding Myra up and Reiss added her hand behind his. For a brief moment he shared a look with her, both of them so exhausted from the race, the fear, the empty victory. Perhaps they could find a bed somewhere in these ruins to curl up together in.
"What is this boy to you?" Cullen's voice broke through the hazy plan.
Alistair sat upright at it and began to tug upon his hair. "It...um, so I'm guessing Lanny didn't explain all of that mess."
The Commander's promise of help felt like a dream from the cold wrath radiating in his eyes. "No, she did not."
"Maybe it would be best to ask her."
He stared at Alistair then swung his eyes over to Reiss, "You know. He told you, thought you were worthy enough of the information."
"That's kinda of...well," Reiss tried to dance back from the accusations. Sometime while he was recovering from his gut wound, Alistair got it in his head to confess everything to her. Everything. He covered the King stuff, the few mistresses he'd sometimes run into in his day to day life, then leapt back into the Grey Warden days. Most of it was well known, battles that people still spoke of nearly two decades later. But when he told Reiss of the deal struck between his first love and a witch, she could scarcely believe it was real.
"It's," Alistair rocked his head back and forth on his neck before sighing, "complicated. Really, really complicated..." His tone dropped off and he turned to gaze back through the doorway where they left the witch, the hero, and the son. Was he feeling sorrow for this child that was made out of necessity? Oh Maker, no. Please, no. That would only mess up everything they were scrabbling for if Alistair turned to the witch's side.
"Look," Alistair honed in on Cullen, "that kid...man. Maker, I'm old. To have an eighteen year old... If it weren't for him existing, Lanny wouldn't be alive. That's all I'll say about it because we're still under watchful eyes."
> The Commander did not look pleased with that, but he gritted his teeth and nodded. Sliding back, he watched his son try to stuff his fingers into his boots. Myra began to babble again, her head tipping as she turned on her seat and reached both hands to Alistair.
He chuckled at her, "What's that? You want to go for a little walk? Okay." Staggering up to his feet, he picked up both of Myra's hands and extended her upward until she too stood upon her teetering toes. Their baby giggled, a foot nudging forward to try and propel her onward, while Alistair guided her.
That drew the Commander's attention, "Your baby is already walking?"
"Walking with serious help," Reiss smiled.
"This is more staggering around like a drunk while your friends have you propped up under your armpits, but Wheaty loves it." To elucidate this fact, she began to giggle more, moving her father further along the blanket and towards the forbidden zone. Of course, Alistair let her take charge.
"Try it with Gavin," Reiss encouraged to the uncertain man.
"I've never, I admit I don't have much experience with children..." Cullen wafted back and forth.
Alistair twisted around, his back hunched while hoisting up a baby, "Ha, you think that stops me? Prod this, tickle that, naughty corner in over time, total tantrum in the middle of court. Parenting is a guaranteed failure, you can only control how hard the landing is."
The Commander seemed less than convinced, but he began to stagger to his feet. "What do I do?"
"Pick up your baby by the middle and..." Reiss began, when Alistair returned with Myra.
"Here, you take her. She's a pro at driving me around," he heaved Myra's hands into Cullen's the pair of them blinking in surprise at this new person before, sure enough, baby feet went stomping away.
With a care, Alistair hoisted Gavin up until he stood on his little legs. The King had a tight grip to the kid's chubby tummy, letting him get used to the idea of being fully vertical. "Sometimes it takes awhile for them to get the hang of keeping their feet on the ground. That one seems to only love being upright. I swear she sleeps sitting up," he laughed jerking his head to Myra.
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