My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  "Serving. Think about it, Hero of Ferelden, coulda sat on a fancy chair and ordered people to give her grapes, but nope. Not Lanny. She was always trudging down into the deep roads, risking her neck instead of some underling's. Signing up with the Inquisition despite putting in her pound of flesh. Even now she can barely walk but she's devoted to saving templars. You don't find that odd?"

  "It..." Cullen breathed fire into his lungs. He gave of himself for others, it was what he was meant to do. Lana seemed to be the same and yet, Alistair's words struck him hard. "It never occurred to me."

  "She's afraid that if she stops being useful," Alistair swallowed, "she'll fail...someone. The Maker, the chantry, you, I don't know."

  "Lana told you this?" Cullen turned on him. They'd been married for six years, had a child, and he'd never heard any of this from his wife.

  "Kinda, a long time ago, back when she was in Amaranthine." He blinked and turned to gaze down at the festivities, "I kept asking her to join my court, to get her ass out of danger, but she refused. Wouldn't give a reason, it being Lanny. I swear I thought she was the most stubborn person I knew until I met you."

  "If she didn't tell you..."

  "It all clicked, came together for me during one of her dark times. A pretty bad one, not like the Calling bad, but bad. She caught some stomach bug going around, nearly all the other wardens were laid up in bed with the fever, but not Lanny. Nope, she was hard at work even while dribbling mucus and practically folded over in pain. I figured it was her stubborn spine 'til I caught her eyes."

  His story paused as he tapped his fingers against the railing, an arrhythmic staccato to it. "She was scared, of failing at what'd been beaten into her head since she was a kid. Of not serving properly. It's still in there, if she doesn't turn her magic to good, to helping, then she feels..."

  "Like a failure," Cullen sputtered, "like a monster." How did he not see it?

  Because you didn't want to. Because you loved the idea of working side by side with the woman you loved. Because that was the background of your life to keeping the mages in check. Because you bear the blame same as any templar.

  "Like she's not earning her keep, and whatever the consequences for those are. Look, I'm sure you're mad. I can somewhat relate, having had Reiss..." he stopped his sentence and a sliver of anger rolled through his eyes. The woman he loved abandoned him too, but she came back.

  And Lana never left you, not really.

  "Just, give her a chance. That's all I'm saying. Don't, please don't do anything stupid like break her heart. Because, despite all my bravado, I'm not certain if I can take you in a fistfight," he slapped Cullen on the shoulder and chuckled.

  "I will," he gulped staring down at his fingers, "consider your words." Maker take him but he really was weighing what this claptrap of a man said.

  "Good," Alistair smiled, "now I'm heading back inside before I go on full old man grump at all that merriment. I swear, I'm going to start screaming at kids to get off my lawn in a few years." He laughed to himself while sliding inside.

  Cullen remained at the balcony, staring past the joyful villagers and up into the night's sky. A nearly full moon illuminated the dark swath of indigo, but what drew his attention was a single star plucked from the middle of the multitude. Fenrir glittered down upon them all.

  * * *

  Her boy grew heavier in her arms with every step, Lana struggling under both the weight and her weary body. She pushed herself too hard for too long. The ride wasn't easy, and having to keep a baby balanced while...she didn't want to comprehend what happened nor what nearly did. Stopping to think upon it, to let into her mind the idea that she almost walked away from the baby dragging down her arms struck in her heart. Every time she shifted, she felt the needle sticking deeper, the perforations leaving her gasping for air.

  Cullen was out wandering, getting fresh air he said. He'd offered to take Gavin off of her, but she didn't want to give him up, which only got her an eye roll. She could already hear his unspoken words, 'Now you choose to keep your son.' At least he didn't say them, stomping off to growl and snarl towards anything in his path.

  What were you thinking?

  She wasn't. She needed an answer, and there was one. A stupid one she would have regretted five minutes after Cullen left, but...there was nothing else. Even now with Morrigan having taken the burden upon herself, Lana couldn't stop wondering what she'd have done different, how she could have saved Kieran. And what about Alistair? He got one child back only to face another's death. That had to be wearing upon him no matter how much of a happy smile he threw on.

  You're not doing any better.

  Bundling her arms tighter, she stared into the heavy lidded eyes of her baby. "I'm sorry, so sorry. I never wanted to, didn't mean to..." Lana's tears halted as she spotted a shadow drifting through the hall towards her. No one else remained in the big house, all rushing off to attend the festivities. Her breath returned at the tuft of blonde hair and cocky smile.

  "Ali," she called, trying to wave at him, but having a baby get in the way.

  He tipped his head and softly jogged a few steps closer to her. "I can't believe you're up," he said first to her, then his eyes darted down to the baby drooping in her arms, "Or you. This has to be long past child bedtime. Pretty sure this is past old King bedtime too."

  Entertained at the attention, Gavin's eyes opened wider and his hand reached for Alistair. "Great," Lana sighed, "I'm never getting him down."

  "Sorry," Ali winced. "Mind if I take over?"

  "Maker's sake, no," she happily hoisted her boy into his arms if only to feel blood pooling back into her hands and wrists. Pretty soon she wouldn't be able to carry Gavin anymore, having to let him stumble on his toes alone. Her body wasn't good for much beyond being a cracked vase housing her already dented soul.

  Alistair was quick to tuck Gavin in safe, his rested arms rocking the baby back and forth the way Lana should be able to. The way a good mother would. "Go to sleep, because it's nice. I like sleep. Something about mice," he sang song spoke in a half lullaby to her boy whose eyes began to strain against the tug. Whether it was the rocking or the warm arms, Gavin's lights began to wink out and he faded to sleep. His little mouth fluttered open, the dark lips framing a nub of a tooth that prodded free.

  "Thank you," she whispered, placing a hand to his arms to try and encourage the rocking. Gavin could get fussy about getting to sleep, but when he was down he was out.

  "No problem, I'm practically an expert now," Ali chuckled. "Three times over," the proud smile began to dim as he kept trying to redo the math in his head. Should it be four or not?

  Biting into her lip, she tried to catch his wandering eye, "Are you okay?"

  "Yes, no, I...don't know. What to think about any of this. Anything. It's me, right? Alistair, the unthinker." He dropped his head as if lost in the sleeping baby's face, the tone soft and confused, "Not even sure if I should care. He was raised by the evil, baby-stealing witch after all. My...my son could have been just as bad."

  Was that what he needed to hear? To think? Lana reached a hand out to rub his arm and caught a glitter of a tear in his eye. No, not Ali. "What little I spoke to him, Kieran seemed to be a good man. He didn't want Morrigan to sacrifice a baby to save him, not his half sister."

  "I keep thinking I shouldn't care, and then I'm also mad I'm not sadder than I am. People grieve when their kids die. That's normal, that's how it works, but..." he groaned, his arms slowing in the rocking as he stared at Gavin.

  "I don't think there's a normal here. We're all making this up as we go, Ali," she patted him on the back.

  Alistair snorted, "Just like always. Lanny, um..."

  "What?" she turned at his long pause, fear rising in her gut. "Do not tell me there's more wrong." Her body was beyond reproach, her heart bleeding open, and she had yet to figure out how to talk to Cullen. Anymore problems to solve would probably kill her on the spot.

  "The phylactery I made from M
orrigan's blood, it's..." He reached into his pocket and fished out the ink bottle. "Gone black." Flickering candlelight bounced against what should have been crimson and pulsing but was dark as charcoal instead.

  Lana reached towards it, her finger skimming against the glass even though she wasn't capable of using a phylactery, "Then she's..."

  "Who knows. This is Morrigan, maybe she found a way to make it so a phylactery can't trace her. I," Alistair groaned, his body swaying backwards. He was quick to catch himself and the baby in his arms, but the exhaustion hit fast.

  "You should get some sleep," Lana ordered, as if she could ever stop commanding people.

  Ali pinched his forehead and then smiled, "What about you?"

  "I'll...I will soon. I was planning on it once Gavin went down."

  He tipped the boy around to stare at the cherubic cheeks gently whiffling from a tiny snore. "He's damn cute, Lanny," Alistair proclaimed while handing over her baby.

  "I know," Lana tried to smile as the weight returned to her. She made an adorable child and almost walked out on him. That was unforgivable. Maker's breath, how could she ask for Cullen's absolution when she couldn't give it to herself? Both old friends peered down at the sleeping baby, Gavin's hands curled up together like he was clinging to a staff of his own.

  A soft cough caused them both to whip their heads up. Cullen teetered on his toes as if he were drunk. She knew it wasn't alcohol but uncertainty that made his body wobble. He had his hands clasped together as if in prayer but they lay flat before his stomach.

  "I should be heading to bed," Alistair said, his eyes glancing between the two of them. "Goodnight Lanny," he smiled at her, before running a finger against Gavin's cheeks, "and you too, you exhausted little mushroom."

  With his armor of simplemindedness in place, Alistair dipped away towards the room he shared with Reiss. No doubt she could pry him out of it the way Lana always failed to. He was clearly hurting, but it wasn't Lana's job to save him. She watched her old friend vanish because it was easier on her heart than having to face up to her husband. In her arms, her baby began to fuss a bit, causing Lana to dip lower in the off chance she may accidentally drop him.

  At that Cullen stopped rubbing the back of his neck and dashed towards them. "Do you need me to hold him?" he asked even while reaching out to scoop up Gavin.

  "Yes..." Lana released her grip, her fingers skimming across Cullen's before coming to land with a thud at her side, "please."

  It was strange to think he'd been terrified of his son those first few weeks of life. Cullen was a natural now, comforting and shielding Gavin the way any good father would. The way she failed to.

  Spinning away, Lana jammed a palm to her eye to try and stopper the tears. She couldn't face them both, not now, not after how close she came to... "I'm sorry," Lana gasped, wishing it would be enough. "I never wanted to, but I...I didn't know what to, and the idea of losing you. I just kept thinking if I let you go then it'd be okay. Somehow it'd," her voice faded as she whimpered to herself, "be okay."

  When a palm glanced across her back, she all but leapt out of her shoes. Lana turned to stare over her shoulder at the man who should be snarling at her. He'd been at it for the entire ride, the sneer never letting his lip scar dip down. But something was different now, he looked broken and she was the one who did it.

  "Tell me you're mad," Lana gasped out.

  "Very," Cullen nodded.

  "And," she focused on their little boy, "tell me if you think you can't trust me."

  He swallowed at that, surprised she'd know what her walking away would do to him. As if she'd forget what her staying behind in the fade cost them both. His eyes faded downward to whisper, "It's difficult at the moment."

  "Then," Lana's words stuck hard in her throat. She had to ask them, even knowing that there was no walking back from this abyss. Her lips trembling and hands shaking, she watched Gavin's little nose twitch in a breath while asking, "tell me if you, if you can never love me again."

  "Lana," his hand cupped against her cheek. She pressed into it, but wouldn't stare at him.

  "Don't, don't lie or sugar coat it, or try to pretend that we can get over it in time. I need to know now," she wrapped both her hands around his wrist, clinging tight to him before finally facing his eyes.

  They watered over, soft from the candlelight as Cullen tugged her closer to him, "I still love you. I will always love you. In twenty years, I never stopped loving you. I can't. It's impossible."

  Sobs erupted from her throat, Lana clinging to her husband and son for support. His one free hand tried to smooth down her hair as he attempted to comfort her while she bawled on top of their baby. "I'm stupid, I hate that I'm stupid like that. That I...I don't even know why. Why I thought to do it. I never want to go. To lose after so much was already lost."

  He paused in brushing her hair to sigh, "I know, and I." Cullen screwed up his eyes, "I think I finally understand."

  "Good, maybe you can explain it to me then," she grumbled, wanting to grab whatever part of her brain kept sabotaging herself and strangle it. Running headfirst into danger seemed like a good trait to have, right until you kept leaving your friends and family in the ashes to do it.

  A strong, patient arm wrapped around her, Lana tucked in so tight to their baby she guided her arms under Gavin to support him. "It's who you are," Cullen whispered, his lips brushing against her forehead, "who I fell in love with, who I will always love. A fact of which I should try to remember from time to time."

  "I love you, both of you. I'm sorry. I...I don't know what to say anymore."

  "The Inquisitor asked me to join him in his fight against Solas."

  At that sudden change of topic Lana blinked madly and stared a question up at Cullen. He wouldn't stare down at them but had his eyes fixed over the horizon. "But I'm not going to do it. I'm...I belong to you, to my family," he dropped his head down, his lips breathing against the top of her head.

  "Family," she sighed. At six years old she was taken to the tower, taught that this was and would forever be her world. No children, no marriage, only a life devoted to the chantry. She lost her parents, her brother, her aunts and uncles and everyone else in her life in that single day. "I never thought I'd have that again."

  Cullen, the boy who became a templar, who was devoted to the chantry in both the same and vastly different ways, tucked himself tighter against his wife and son. Sighing with them both, he whispered, "Me neither."

  * * *

  Carefully, Alistair eased open the door to the room the mansion owners were more than happy to fork over to their King. They hadn't even batted an eye at him requesting a cradle for the baby in the elven woman's hands. Then again, they probably thought she was the nanny and not his Wheaty's mother. When he left Reiss, she was struggling to get the wide eyed Myra to stop staring at all this new and exciting stuff and go to sleep. As his shadow crossed the threshold, he felt a hand grab onto him and a voice hiss in a threatening whisper, "I just got her down and so help me if you wake her up..."

  Reiss let the threat die, or was willing to allow Alistair to fill in the missing gaps. Nodding that he heard her words, he used everything in his power to silence the door closing. It barely even jangled, Alistair quick to catch the latch and settle it softly downward. Both heads whipped towards the cradle warmed by moonlight, but not a peep stirred.

  "Blessed Andraste," Reiss sighed, folding downward. He was quick to wrap his arms around her, and she turned towards him. Nestling her head against his shoulder, she sighed in contentment. "Over. We're going home. I never imagined."

  "Yeah," he swallowed, doing his best to keep his voice low. He felt Reiss turning a curious look on him but he wasn't in the mood to play over all the conflicting emotions bubbling in his head. Changing the conversation he nodded to the cradle, "How's she holding up?"

  "She's doing wonderful. Got to smile at a good hundred new people all in full on drunk festival mode. I nearly had to bite some asshole's
hand when he tried to snatch Myra from me," Reiss growled.

  It was strangely beautiful to see his wife so protective of their daughter, even if she did bear a striking resemblance to a mabari mid-throat gouging. Butting his lips into her cheek, Alistair breathed her in. No scent of darkspawn, of death, of blood hanging in the air. She smelled clean, fresh, hopeful. They all did. "Our daughter seems to really like making friends."

  "Right, because that'll never come back to bite her in the ass," Reiss fumed, but it was losing its bite.

  "You're tired," Alistair said, barely beating her to a great yawn.

  "No..." she let loose another one, then shook her head, "shit. I'm sure you are too."

  He wasn't. His mind couldn't stop playing over everything that went wrong, every pain he forced back upon those who were dear to him, and one person he couldn't give a single shit about. Trying to smile through it, Alistair said, "I should sleep, long road ahead."

  Tugging on his hands, Reiss pulled him onto the massive master bed. The house must have been built around it the thing was so huge. Even the mattress was ancient, sagging in the middle like quicksand prepared to drag its victims down to their cozy death. Both of them rolled into its snare, their hands locked around each other and they held tight. Reiss buried her face into his chest while Alistair kept glancing down past his toes at the cradle where their baby slept. If it weren't for the occasional snore, he'd have had to check to make certain she was in there.

  "When I get home, I am going to grab up Spud and Cailan, give them both gigantic hugs, and not let them down for two days. Maybe three if Bea doesn't find out."

  "Home," Reiss murmured to herself, her lips brushing against his chest.

  Even with the weary road ahead of them and Alistair itching to be on it, he turned to her. "Okay, what's wrong? I could dance around it, wait until you're ready, but I doubt I'd get much sleep fretting away at all hours of the night."

  It took her a few minutes, Reiss pressing her face tighter and tighter to him as if she could bury herself away from it. Her fingers gripped into his shoulders. Normally, he'd brace himself for the clothes to go flying when she did that, but she seemed to need him to act as her tether.