My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  "Yes," he nodded, extending his arm towards her.

  His mother always had a cool touch, not ice cold or unfeeling, but crisp and clean. She smelled clean too, like laundry linens hanging off the line. He was never certain if that was her magic or the ointments from healing. Probably the latter as Myra smelled more of... Gavin blinked to hide away a blush at his trying to think of what a girl smelled like.

  Barely running her fingers overtop, Gavin watched as the blister that bubbled up the skin on most of his forearm began to retract. Lana hummed an old song under her breath while healing her son.

  "You're not mad?" he asked, his lips stuttering as she had to cure him of a mistake of his own making.

  Lifting her eyes up, she smiled painfully at him, "You know I worry about you. I always have. But mad...? Sweetie, even if you got this from falling into a campfire, how can I be mad? Accidents happens. But I'm guessing this was no accident. Fire that strong has to be from magic."

  "It, it was..." Gavin nodded his head, then glanced up into her soulful eyes. "Magic fire burning off of darkspawn." While his mother stitched back up the burned flesh, he told her about the attack, and tried to relay all of his tactics when she asked. The great fighter of darkspawn didn't make any comments, just asked for a few clarifications here and there. Then Gavin reached back to every other fight he fell into in what felt like years since he left home. The bandits caused her to groan, but at Anjali his mother sat up higher.

  "An assassin?"

  "So she claims. I assumed. There is a chance she's lying about it all."

  "Does Alistair know?"

  Gavin chewed on his lip. Maker was that disturbing to watch. He feared the King and Princess might come to blows for how loudly they were screaming at each other. In truth, he sided with the King. Anjali was a danger, a danger not worth keeping around. Except she saved his life. That was never going to stop stinging.

  "He does now."

  A breath blew through his mom's lips and she sighed, "Blighted hell is that a mess."

  "What do you think he'll do?"

  "Who? Ali?" Lana, the woman who knew the King the longest out of nearly anyone else, tapped her fingers to her lips. "I wish I could say. If it were me or another advisor, even Reiss being threatened by the Scarlet Ribbons he'd complain, loudly, but he'd trust us. His children, however..." She paused in her thoughts to reach over and lock her fingers with Gavin's. "It's hard to accept how grown you are."

  An uncomfortable burning grew in his stomach from the parental love she didn't even try to mask. Turning on his seat, Gavin sighed, "Mom."

  "I know, I know. All stoic and seriousness, here on out. Death to sentimentality. So, you told me about your official work..." Lana brought her fingers together in a tent, "now tell me how you're doing."

  "I..." Gavin twisted the burn up which now looked good as new. The top of his skin was a bit red still, but he knew that it'd be back to his typical soft brown by morning. "Do you mean this?"

  "You, you. Your personal life. Don't make that face," she scolded so quickly he barely had time to pull one. "Your friends. This dwarf you mentioned..."

  "Snowy."

  "He seems a level headed sort who will only get you into minor mischief," she smiled as if giving him full blanche to get up to it. "And well versed in darkspawn," she asked most about the dwarf, surprised by his reasoning and choices.

  "I like him okay. I don't know if we're friends or anything, but..."

  His mother tipped her head and sighed, "Sweetie, if he's volunteering to keep your secret, he's your friend. When they start opening up to you about all their past misdeeds, you're practically brothers. Trust me."

  That thought lightened his heart. He was never certain how to broach the subject with anyone. Hello, I seem to enjoy spending time with you. You are a fun person. Want to be friends? It sounded stupid in his head, Maker only knew how he'd mess it up out of his mouth. Why did this have to be so hard?

  "So..." Lana drew her son out of his navel long enough for him to look over, "what about Myra?"

  His lips parted, but the gasp didn't release, "What about her?"

  Coyly, his mom shrugged a shoulder, "I spotted her on this caravan. How are you two getting along?"

  "Fine, Mom," Gavin gasped out, not wanting to get into this conversation with her. With anyone. Maker's breath.

  "Fine as in she'll give you the time of day, or..."

  "She's," he stared down at his hands laying on his knees. "She's a friend."

  "That's it?" Blessed Andraste, his mother would not stop prying. "Because you're blushing brighter than a sunset."

  Gavin's head whipped up, his hands flying to his cheeks to try and cover them up, but it wouldn't quite take. "Mother!" he attempted to scold her, but of course she just laughed.

  "What? I can't know you? Know her too? I'm glad you were able to work out your little differences."

  "Maybe," he muttered to himself, thinking of the march to Redcliffe. Myra'd been quiet to him, not curt or mad, but cold and distant. Not at all like the Myra he ever knew.

  "What is it?" his mother couldn't help herself from prying. If there a problem, Lana Rutherford had to fix it. She was ten times worse than his father.

  "She's...I don't know, been avoiding me," Gavin looked up into her eyes but his mother shifted to stare out into the distance. "I don't think she hates me, but it's... I want to ask, but I fear what'll happen if I do. Would she get mad? Would she hate me then? What if there's nothing wrong? Would she then think I made it wrong by asking?"

  "Whoa, whoa, slow down. You just went through a pretty traumatic experience. People died and more could have died. A lot of times it hits people differently. Even Myra, who I know is as bendable as her father, can turn brittle sometimes."

  "What should I do?" Gavin felt a foolish shake in his hands, the same ones his father got when things grew too difficult for him to process.

  Laying a hand over her son's shoulders, Lana tugged him to her in a half hug, "Give her time. This is Myra, when she's upset she tells you. Loudly." He snorted at that truth. It was what made her oddly calming for the internal Gavin. There was no second guessing with her, she let you knew where you stood right away.

  "Dad's gonna be mad," Gavin whispered.

  "Maybe," his mother slid back, releasing her son out of the hug as she placed her hands onto her lap. "Maybe not. He's cooled over the years."

  By the order of his mother, Cullen wasn't allowed to outright forbid two thirteen year olds sharing a few kisses. But he was damn good at making it known that he wasn't happy about the situation. It was the most rebellious Gavin ever directly was, sneaking out under his father's nose to spend private time with Myra. Shame that he got almost too good at it for later.

  "But," his mom said, a smile on her face, "she's your age, we know her, and I like her. She's a smart girl, and enough like her mother to minimize some of her father's more grating habits."

  Gavin didn't realize he'd been sitting on pins and needles about telling his parents until the truth was laid out. He took in a breath and felt some of the worry chip away from his shoulders. They were okay with Myra. His mother was okay with Myra, father was a to be determined -- no doubt massaged by his mother. At least she took it better than his wanting to be a squire.

  "Thanks, Mom," he reached forward to wrap a hand around her for another hug when the door opened.

  "I found a kettle, but it's cold. Then I realized it didn't matter as you'd just let the tea grow cold anyway," his father's words faded as he stepped into the doorway and eyed up his son. "Gavin."

  "Dad."

  Rising off the chair, father and son awkwardly hugged while a tea kettle bobbed and weaved in the way. "You look good," Cullen complimented him, looking up, "hair's getting a bit long."

  Absently, Gavin picked at the tips that were already emerging. He sighed, having to find a knife later tonight to take a whack at it.

  "You should let it grow," his mother cooed. She was always beggi
ng him to do it. "I adore the blonde tips, it's so different." Which was why Gavin cut them back. His two-tone hair somehow made the tall, broad boy stand out even more.

  Cullen patted his son on the shoulder in solidarity before leaning to his wife on the bed. Placing the kettle into her safe arms, he pecked a kiss to her lips. "How are you doing?"

  "I got to see my boy..." she said as an explanation, which somehow made Gavin's cheeks light up.

  "I meant physically, how are you feeling?" By way of explanation, he turned to his son, "We've been riding up and down the area getting a feel for the darkspawn. All these years and your mother's still as strong as ever."

  For her part, Lana cocked up an eyebrow at the bullshit. No doubt she was stuck in this room as much out of fear of someone recognizing her as she couldn't rise from the bed. But her loving husband didn't seem to care. Sliding back to her, Cullen returned for another kiss.

  Gavin glanced away, but coughed. "I should return to my company, before any of them come looking for me."

  His father nodded, "Let me walk with you," before honing in on Lana. "Are you sure you're all right?"

  "Maker's sake, yes! Go, I'll be here, reading. Gavin..." she called to her son, who turned in the doorway to look at his mom. "I love you. Stay safe," her lips lifted in a conspiratorial smiled, "and give it time."

  "I...I will."

  Father and son didn't speak much as they left Lana to slide back on the bed. She took the time to flame the kettle with her magic, but his dad was right. It'd go cold before she took a single sip. Gavin tried to lead their walk, but he wasn't certain exactly where he belonged. He knew the castle pretty well, often spending a few holidays running up and down the corridors as a child while his parents visited the Arl, but where they'd put so many people was beyond him.

  "Your arm," Cullen broke the silence first, his eyes darting to the wound. Picking it up, Gavin winced a bit. "I assume your mother..."

  "Yeah, she fixed it."

  Nodding his head at the obvious, Cullen paused before a staircase and leaned against the wall. He seemed to age a hundred years in that one move, the man of iron crumbling to rust in exhaustion. It was so disturbing, Gavin reached out as if to catch him but Cullen waved his hands away.

  "I'm fine," he insisted, as he always did. "Tired. We weren't exactly planning on riding up here, but the reports were...unsettling."

  Gavin knew his parents. His mother would have been the one to insist they travel as quickly as possible to Redcliffe, never mind the toll it would have on her, while his father would fret himself over her safety. "Dad?" he tried to drop his voice lower, both father and son watching as a pair of Redcliffe servants dashed up the stairs, "Is it bad?"

  Rolling his hand back to muss up the drooping curls, the great ex-Commander groaned, "Could have been much worse. I've..." A soft laugh broke from Cullen as he reached over to pat Gavin on the arm, "I've never been happier that you were shipped off to Denerim."

  "Dad?"

  He didn't break into tears, but Cullen shifted uncomfortably as if his chest swelled in pain until his tunic no longer fit. "The first attack was...they hit a squire practice grounds."

  Gavin's eyes flared open wide, his mind drawing forth all those kids excited to be getting their chance. Evans and his drooping shield. Did he ever learn how to hold it properly?

  "Some survived, but...it wasn't good," his dad scrubbed tighter into his eyes as he grimaced, "They want to bring back the Grey Wardens in full. Without dwarves down in the deep to take the pressure off, I guess someone's got to be pressed into service otherwise it'll keep happening."

  "That's good, isn't it? The Wardens are renowned slayers of darkspawn."

  Cullen fell silent a moment, his head tipped down to his chest as he seemed to be fighting through a dozen thoughts. "Your mother thinks so. The...King agrees with her, shock of shocks. So do a lot of the old guard who remember the blight."

  "But you don't?" Gavin gasped. He stood face to face with just a handful of those monsters. To think of them ripping through villages of unarmed, terrified citizens was horrifying. "Mom's one of them."

  "Was, Gavin, she was one of them, and she stopped being because they were..." An old fire burned in Cullen's eyes, his lip scar rising into a great sneer before it all vanished into thin air. Age and exhaustion dampened down the anger, his dad leaning back to the wall. "The Grey Wardens turned their back on the dignity of society. What they nearly unleashed upon all of thedas was...! You just... Promise me one thing, okay. Swear you won't join them."

  Gavin swallowed hard at the pleading in his father's voice. All his life he would only receive a simple order delivered on the assumption Gavin would do it. No pleading, no bargaining, just go here, do this and it usually worked. He'd never had his father beg for his obedience.

  "Be a knight," Cullen said, "way I hear it you're moving quickly up the ranks."

  "I wouldn't go that far," Gavin insisted, well aware of how the woman he swore to serve despised him. Probably twice as much now that he had leverage over her. Over Cal. Why did he keep protecting people that hated him, that made his life miserable?

  "I get it, I do. The Grey Wardens sound mythic in legends, the things they've done. What they can do... But it's not the whole story. It never is. The pitch they sell you rarely lives up to reality." He turned from Gavin to stare out the window facing into Lake Calenhad. While his mother sometimes would regale a young and curious Gavin with a few tales of her decade or so fighting darkspawn, his father refused to talk about being a templar. It was doubtful his son would even have known if not for the others in the abbey sometimes referring to him as Knight-Captain.

  "Dad," he patted into his father's back, for once feeling the softness of time instead of the unbendable spine that carried his son when his legs grew too tired. "I have no intentions of ever being a Grey Warden. Not after the things Mom's told me."

  His father's smile flitted against his lips a moment, one of the hard fought ones that felt as real as a soap bubble. Cullen gripped onto his son's fingers, the knots of a life toiling against soil bouncing against Gavin's that were stained from battle.

  "Good," he nodded his head, the smile slipping away as he stared back out the window. "I'm glad. Perhaps we'll, they may not even decide to revive the order. There could be other ways."

  He could pry into what these other ways were, but Gavin rather doubted his father would either be that privy to national secrets, or share them with his son. His mother seemed to be able to view her son sometimes as a teenager. His father would only flit his eyes over to him and spot a ten year old boy.

  "We should be out of here soon," Cullen spoke up. "We can't stay away long, not with Nellie left in charge."

  "Nellie?" Gavin winced, remembering the scatterbrained woman that had to have her chores written across a chalkboard on the regular or else she'd forget midday.

  Cullen sighed, "We had no choice. Half are at home, dealing with irrigation in the fields courtesy of this dreadful heat." Not too many people wondered why that little half farm out by the abbey never seemed to suffer dry spells. Though Gavin suspected more than a few would catch his mom returning from the fields covered in mud and not a cloud in the sky.

  "And your mother seemed to think she deserved a chance," Cullen laughed. "I swear, I don't think there's a single person in thedas your mom isn't certain can become amazing. They just need to be gifted the opportunity." He paused in his thought and sighed, "Probably why she gave me a chance."

  An old silence fell between them, both staring out the window into the lake. Somewhere beyond in the middle sat a small island with a destroyed tower. They couldn't see it from here, but his father wouldn't stop looking -- as if he could feel it in his heart. He never seemed to like remaining long within view of Lake Calenhad.

  "I did it," Gavin sputtered out, watching his fingers twist through each other. His dad lifted an eyebrow and turned to him, at first confused, then growing concerned. Gavin winced at his choice of w
ords and raced to tack on, "I used the...that skill you taught me."

  "You dispelled mana?" the concern wafted away to almost one of pride. "On a blood mage?"

  "No, a darkspawn, the magic casting ones with the ugly...well, they're all ugly."

  "An emissary," his dad nodded. The first day Cullen pulled his fifteen year old son out to the fields, Gavin was confused. He'd told his parents his intentions to become a knight a week before, his father using every opportunity to try to shake it out of him. That day, he assumed his father would try again, perhaps by attempting to make farming look even more enticing, or by chaining him to the plow. He had no idea.

  The last thing he expected was for his dad, the man who would barely admit to ever having been a templar, to unsheathe his sword and begin to explain exactly how one ripped the veil away from a mage's hands. They trained often, his father insisting that he wouldn't be able to reach the same skills he once did, but that it could at least disorient a mage. And even that second of time would be enough for a sword to strike.

  "You blanketed away the mana? All of it?" Cullen continued, watching Gavin nod.

  "I-I had to, to protect someone..."

  "This wouldn't be someone in a skirt, would it?" a hint of laughter threaded through his father's words, almost catching Gavin.

  "Nnno," he shook his head, trying to hide away the blush burning in his gut at the thought.

  "Pity, your mother would adore that how you met story," his father continued to surprise him, the man staring out the window in thought. "You know we're proud of you."

  "It wasn't that difficult..." Gavin began, about to wipe away any of his skill in the moment.

  "Not that," Cullen wafted the thought away and turned to face his boy. He placed one hand upon Gavin's shoulder, then the other. "Everything you've accomplished."

  "I haven't done anything."

  His dad's glare flared a moment, the same amber eyes burning into Gavin's darting ones, "Everything you've overcome then." That stuck hard into Gavin's gullet, his brain wanting to confess every sin wearing on his heart, but his lips sealed themselves. With no tea kettle in the way, Cullen pulled his son into a full hug, the old warrior crumbling a bit into the young one.