My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  "This place is teeming with power," Myra lifted her hand and the fire rose higher off the fingers. She snapped it away with a giggle and then moved to climb up the statue. One hand gripping onto a front leg handhold, she paused and glanced over at him. "Is it wise for me to touch this?"

  "I've been up there numerous times," he admitted, then blushed at her approving look. Gavin was nowhere near as skilled at climbing as she was. The girl made it look easy, her fingers finding grabs that he'd never manage as she moved up the statue like water. Perched upon the head that gazed forever down into the strange pond, she waved for him to follow.

  Doing his best to not make a colossal fool out of himself, Gavin took the climb slower. He hooked a foot into the carved spine that was left evident of the hunched over horse, and grabbed onto a section he couldn't explain. It almost looked like a wing that'd long ago fallen off and the weather wore down. But flying horses? That was preposterous.

  More sweat dripped down his arms and across his palms. If his father smelled like the inside of a bronto, he probably stank of its colon. Wonderful. That was something that put girls off, right? Smells of bad things. Maybe the shirt would keep it all trapped inside, he prayed while yanking himself the last climb up to perch beside Myra. He hugged tight to the statue on all fours while she pranced around practically on her tiptoes.

  "Wow, how in the Maker's name did you find this?" she asked, stepping out towards the nose of the horse.

  Gavin plopped down onto his ass, making certain he wouldn't slide off and answered, "I was chasing a rabbit."

  "For supper?"

  "For fun," he smiled, "we only eat rabbit for special occasions. My father's not much of a hunter. It dashed into the bracken and I all but fell into this pond."

  "Wow," she repeated as if that was the most impressive story she'd ever heard. She was the daughter of a king, apparently did things that involved blood stains and dead bodies. His life was nothing but farming and tending to ill people. There was nothing interesting to it. After a time, Myra flopped down and let her legs dangle over the side.

  "I like to come here to read, it's quiet and soft," he whispered. Gavin may not have any magic in him but he felt calm here in his private refuge away from his parents and work. Whether it was the statue or knowing no one else could find him, it was hard to say.

  Myra snickered, "You've always got your nose in a book every time I see you."

  "You see me?" he blinked, shocked that the girl would even notice him. "I..." the blush took over as he raced to apologize for himself, "I don't always, but when there's time to..."

  "It's nice," she smiled, "and with your secret library I'm not surprised."

  "Ah, that one," he flushed brighter, turning on the stone horse to stare at the abbey. "I don't, that isn't open to me the same as it would be to you."

  "What do you read then if not Ancient Fart Face's Guide to Lighting Or Not Lighting Your Knickers On Fire: Depends On What You Want?"

  Gavin softly chuckled at her summation of the magical literature that littered the abbey. No doubt his mother had her buried in books. She'd do that to people who weren't coming to her for training, Maker turn His gaze on anyone she'd actually plan to teach. "Histories, adventure stories, more or less." He tapped his foot into the horse and glanced over the forest. "The ones with knights rescuing kingdoms and getting into duels or battling monsters."

  "Hard in Hightown?"

  "No, that one my parents forbid for whatever reason, though they allow anything else."

  "Psh, that one's barely got any naughty parts in it. Now his Swords & Shields books are..." Myra paused and, in a shocking twist, the area below her freckles lit bright red. He'd never seen her look unperturbed over anything, not even when the horses were being bred. "The, I mean, um, or the This Shit's Weird: Inquisition book."

  "That one I know why they banned," Gavin said. He tipped his hands back behind him and leaned to a comfier position.

  "Right, right, your Dad's in that one, ain't he? All those glorious tales of saving the day and chivalry and what not," the girl smiled, waving her hand around as if a sword was in it. "Worried you'll learn the truth of whatever happened during the Inquisition days?"

  "No," he knocked his feet together into the stone and sighed, "they both tell me about it. Even my mother will discuss the blight, though not often or easily." Myra grimaced at that one, her eyes darting away.

  "Parents, huh? Always prodding into things. Do this, do that. Act like you're still teething or some shit," she snapped her fingers and a poof of fire erupted out of the pond. It couldn't touch anything surrounded by water, but caught Gavin's attention. "Can't trust you to go two steps out the door before it's all 'take the mabari!'"

  "'Keep a sharp dagger at your hip,'" he added in.

  "'Did you tell Lunet where you're headed?'"

  "'Pick any elfroot along the way.'"

  Both turned to each other and at the same time said, "'And don't forget to wear a sweater.'" They broke into giggles, Myra brushing her hand against her lips to try and cover a snort while Gavin found himself transfixed by her freckles. There were so many it was like staring up at the night's sky. How long would it take him to count the multitude without her catching him?

  The blush took hold harder and Gavin whipped his head away to stare at the treetops and get in a breath of air. It was hot here, the summer heat reflecting off the statue. Normally, the grey stone remained cool even in the height of the season but today it seemed to have broken its power. He felt his hand rummaging through the back of his shirt collar and he froze.

  "My Mum, she hated the idea of me going to the college to learn. It's why I'm here instead of up there training with all the other like minded mages," Myra whispered. She cupped her hand as if holding an invisible ball and slowly a sparking sphere of energy rose upon it.

  "I doubt there's any mage like you," Gavin whispered. Her bright eyes snapped to him, something unreadable in the depths and he floundered. "I mean, that, uh...you're very, the mages are..." Aware that his tongue flopped like a dying fish in his mouth, he turned away again, his cheeks on fire.

  "My Dad would throw a fit if I ever wandered this far away. Home or Palace, that's it. Maybe we'll let Myra go to the corner store, but that's if she takes Muse and Lunet's watching from across the street. Even my friends can visit the Alienage without needing a fancy escort."

  "Really? I often travel to the local village by myself and recently took a trip to Redcliffe with a caravan. Perhaps my, my parents are far too busy with other matters to be that concerned."

  Her wide eyes shifted up and Myra skirted a bit closer across the stone head. "Lucky. I'd give anything to be able to get out and run free. Best I can manage is skirting around on some rooftops, which of course my Mum yells at me for whenever I do. 'You'll break your neck!' Oh yeah, wait until she learns I can do this!" She tugged a rock out of her pocket and hurled it into the air. On its trajectory down, she blasted it with a spell Gavin rarely saw his mother use. The rock slowed until it gently crested to a gentle plop against the pond's surface. A single ripple followed.

  "At least you get to live in a city. All those people to meet, and talk to. I've known everybody here my entire life. You think your parents treat you as an infant, try having a good ten ex-templars call you Gavy the babe to your face." He grumbled at himself, before paling and then staring in shock for saying such a thing to a girl.

  If she was planning on razzing him for it later, she didn't let on. Myra stretched out a bit, twisting on her side so she faced him but kept her head tilted down to stare at the rock. "Denerim's not the worst, though don't ask my Mom her opinion on it unless you like hearing about the murder rate, but... You must meet lots of people at Redcliffe. Other boys and girls. Pretty girls with pig tails, and red hair, and big blue eyes."

  "None as pretty as you," Gavin's tongue bypassed his brain entirely. By the time the words hit his ears, he panicked so fast for blurting that thought out he began to slide off the
statue. Scrabbling quickly with his fingers to keep from falling into the pond, he caught onto the horse's ear and hooked a foot into a nostril. "I mean, um..." he kept staring at his hands as they helped him climb back to safety, though he wasn't free of the burning embarrassment. Against the grey of the rock he looked browner than usual, a shadow from the sun, as his calluses scraped against the hard statue. He was a farmer, sun kissed at birth, with the hands and skinny body to prove his life was devoted to the land, whether he wanted it or not. And she was...

  Maker's sake, he barely knew what she was. Fascinating. Confounding. Not Royal but kinda. And pretty. Way too pretty.

  Not a single word passed from her at his confession. He may not know Myra well but he knew her silence was rare. She was often speaking over and through awkward situations and this was the mother of them all. How badly had he spooked her?

  Swallowing against the tightening of his throat, he risked glancing up at her. She stared at him, her eyes sparkling with the summer sun. Gavin had to grip tighter to the rock to keep from blurting out again how pretty she was. Her thin, strawberry pink lips lifted in a smile. "You're cute," Myra mused before leaning towards him.

  He barely caught on to what she was doing before he felt her petal soft lips glance across his. Oh Maker! His first kiss. What was he supposed to do? What was anyone supposed to do? Stop overthinking this and kiss her back! His brain threw those thoughts out lightning fast and Gavin tipped his head to the side, allowing him to press more against her lips.

  Goosepimples rose off his arms and legs as the two of them hung suspended in this little kiss for what felt an eternity, but the good kind. Sitting at the Maker's Side kind of eternity where you didn't want it to end. He cinched his eyes up so tight he could see bolts of white lightning circling the sides while...he was kissing a pretty girl. Sweet Andraste!

  Myra leaned back from him and Gavin finally risked a peek to see those lips he just tasted lifted in a quizzical smile. She didn't say anything to him, only sat waiting. Was he supposed to say something? A compliment or...?

  "That, uh," he absently licked his lips with his tongue, then rubbed a hand along the back of his neck, "that was really nice."

  She chuckled at his fumbling, "It was." The smile flattened to one of panic and a blush rose on her cheeks, "I've never, um, done that before."

  "Me either," Gavin confessed, a full breath filling his lungs. What if he was terrible? What if he was the worst kisser in all of thedas and doomed to never being allowed to kiss anyone again? What if...?

  Myra's soft fingers cupped against his arm, rolling towards the knot of muscle below. She lifted a shoulder and whispered, "Wanna do it again?"

  "Uh huh," Gavin nodded, unable to hide the cheek bursting grin. Puckering up, he scooted closer towards her. Myra matched, her head tipping to the right this time. They were about to make contact when a noise like a dying goose erupted from below them.

  "Oh come on!"

  Both kids broke apart quickly and turned to find standing on the ground below the statue, wearing the exact same irate expression, were their fathers.

  "Myra, what was the one thing I told you when you came out here?!" the king shouted, waving a hand as his daughter slunk as far away from Gavin as she could without falling off the statue.

  "To invert my underwear so I could go longer without having to wash them," she muttered to herself before her eyes darted over to the boy she called cute. The blush rose higher, but it was no match to Gavin's as he caught his father snarling at thin air.

  "Gavin, get down from that...whatever that is. It could be cursed. It's probably cursed. Everything is cursed," Cullen glared at Alistair who turned to him in shock.

  "Me? You're blaming me for them...? Of course you're blaming me. You always blame me. Stub your toe on something. It's that awful King of Ferelden's fault! Find a dead mouse in your grain. Curse you evil Alistair! This was all your doing somehow."

  "As if you could ever admit fault for any of your failures," his father turned on the man, seeming to miss that this was the King of Ferelden he was mouthing off to.

  The grown men forgot their kids still sitting on the top of the horse statue, staring agape at the proceedings while their fathers tore into each other. Just when it looked as if it might come to blows, his father slicked back his hair and stared back up. "What did I tell you about getting down?"

  "You too, young lady. And don't think your mother won't hear about this. I'm sure she'll come up with a much better punishment than anything I'd dream up."

  "For what?" Myra talked back while Gavin silently slid to the edge. He stared at her in awe, never having thought to fight back like that.

  "For..." the King waved his hand at her then to Gavin as if to explain. Myra glared at her father, daring him to say it. He sneered and spat out fast, "climbing freaky statues in the middle of woods. Very dangerous."

  All Cullen had to do was glare at his son. No threats of getting his mother involved were necessary as he began to scamper down. Myra climbed off the horse's face while Gavin took the back. Just before he was about to vanish, she grabbed onto his hand and smiled, "It was nice."

  "The barn," Gavin sputtered out fast in a whisper. Myra's eyebrows met in confusion and his wily brain, given its first taste of rebellion, finished, "No one's ever there after light's out."

  Her cute little nose scrunched up with her smile and she nodded, "It's a date."

  THE END

  EXTRA KIDS CHAPTERS

  Here are a few shorts with the kids growing up. Enjoy.

  * * *

  23 months old...

  "Cullen?!" Lana tried to hobble up from a box she found at the back of their closet. Someone went to the trouble of cracking it open and digging out only a few things. No one in the abbey would dare impede upon their bedroom, nor were any likely to guess this was where the once Commander kept his old armor from the Inquisition days. None of the pieces of the set were missing; bracers, chest plate, even the old boots were all in place, but it looked disturbed.

  She tried calling for the only possible contender again. "Cullen?"

  "What is it?" his voice echoed from somewhere in the abby.

  "Have you gotten into your old armor?" Lana shouted back, already getting to her feet. She had to stretch to make it over the desecrated box, trying to leave the evidence undisturbed should there need to be interrogations later. The owners of the abbey appeared rather poor to any who'd stop by, but the old armor of the Inquisitor's Commander had to be an enticing steal.

  "What?" Cullen continued, the voice coming from a new direction.

  "I said..."

  "I know what you said, but...what would I do with it? Why would I get into it?"

  Lana pursed her lips. She knew he wouldn't be the one to break into his old clothes, but it was better to prod into the least culpable before breaking out the accusations. "Someone has. Things are moved about."

  "Why would anyone care about my old clothes?" Maker's sake he could be dense. She wanted to chalk it up to exhaustion, but from somewhere down the hall she heard an infamous Cullen grumble as he caught on. "How could anyone steal my old clothes?"

  "Find box, open it. I don't know what's missing, but you'd best get up here and sort through it," she placed a hand to her mouth to amplify her words and began to walk towards where she thought he was. Thanks to the stones and open cells that created terrible echoes it could take a few rounds of Calen-had to find where they were in this place.

  Lana hobbled out of their room and down the hallway. "I'm going to try and..." Her sentence faded as she heard a voice, high pitched and soft but dead certain in the words, echoing from behind an old cell. No one was in residence there, Lana and Cullen often leaving it as a place to store inventory. Pausing, Lana pushed open the wood a sliver and peered in. At that moment, Cullen's hand cupped around the small of her back.

  "What's going on? You stopped talking and I feared I wouldn't find you," he spat out, staring at his wife while she gaz
ed inward.

  "I found the thief," she chuckled, jerking her chin inside.

  Their chubby toddler stood upon a step stool he wasn't supposed to climb with his back to them. Tossed around his tiny neck was the surcoat that Cullen used to wear, the fur part as long as their boy, while the crimson fabric piled upon the floor like a waterfall. Unaware of the audience, Gavin stuck out his tummy and addressed his captive audience.

  "I need you to. I need you to go to the upstairs." He paused and winnowed his amber glare down at their dog, "No, Honor! You need to shape up." The mabari's eyes opened and she huffed at his saying her name, but she didn't bother to rise off the floor for the toddler's admonishment.

  Groaning in a near perfect replica of his father when he was exasperated, Gavin slapped a hand into the other. "You...you're needed to be good. You should all be good. Work good." When that tiny hand reached behind to rub the back of his neck, Lana melted.

  "Sweet Maker," she cooed. Realizing he was caught, Gavin spun around to stare at his parents. He was in nothing but his nappy, a sliver of his brown tummy protruding between the dark bear fur while he kept trying to swipe at the back of his neck.

  "Son," Cullen eased into the room, his arms crossing, "what are you doing?"

  Gavin stared down at his tummy, prodding a finger into it as if it came out of nowhere. Then he snapped up, the biggest, cheesiest smile filling his face. "Morning chores!" His shout rang against the piles of toys he dragged and positioned to sit and listen in a half circle as Gavin doled out orders.

  "Oh Andraste," Lana gasped, unable to stifle her grins. She pointed towards the golden bear's head sitting front and center, "He was talking to the helmet as well."

  "Lana," Cullen was trying to get her on board with playing the strict and mean parents, but she was too far gone.

  "But," she stumbled into the room and scooped down to her baby. Gavin was quick to wrap his arms around her in a hug. "He's playing you."