My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  "You have business to attend to..." Anjali began, tipping her head down.

  "Yes, I do," Rosie pressed tighter, her emerald eyes cutting right through Anjali, "with you." Turning to her son, she pecked a kiss to his cheek and smiled. "You, young man, should be taking a nap. I know, screaming is normal for you now, but naps are good. They help you grow big and strong." She babbled to the baby while tucking him back into his prison. His green eyes whipped around, begging for anyone to help free him from this wrong but there was no assistance coming.

  While Rosie tucked a treasured blanket with bouncy mabari up to his chin, she sang a little and soothed down his ruffled hair. The baby continued to talk, trying to keep himself awake, but his mother turned away. Tough love and all. It either gets easier after this, kid, or a lot harder.

  After finishing with her son, she threaded her fingers inside of Anjali's. In shock, the assassin stared down at their shared grip which Rosie began to tug upon. To one of the flocks of nannies who must have run off to warn the princess, she said, "Keep an eye on him." The mousey woman nodded, her eyes barely flickering over to the scary assassin who wormed her way into the nursery.

  Dumbstruck, Anjali stumbled behind Rosamund as she pulled her away from her baby boy and into what looked like a random office. No one was inside, but a few lamps continued to burn up expensive oil. When Rosie dropped her hand, Anjali impatiently slicked it through her hair and sighed, "I'm sorry about ruining his nap. I didn't know that's what was occurring and thought..."

  A finger landed upon her lips, and Anjali's eyes snapped up to Rosie's, which were diving deep into hers. "Things will change when I'm queen," she began and internally Anjali groaned. She prayed her love hadn't heard that part. "My time will be more usurped than it already is, I cannot deny that."

  "You take on so much already."

  She tipped her head to the side, the Princess full of youth and vitality siphoning more and more of the costly duties away from the ragged shoulders of her father. At this point, it seemed as if all he handled was sitting on the chair during court and maybe saying a word or two during feasts. She was really running the kingdom now in all but name.

  "I know I do, I am dedicated to Ferelden," Rosie raised her head, her eyes brimming in tears. She'd often break into them when she'd overhear her daughter's or son's cries and be unable to run to their side. Duty chained the mother in a box while the princess had to be at work. Perhaps that was why Anjali came to hate seeing her with her children. It was a reminder how easily she too could be cut from her life. One more obstacle that a little pruning would clear up.

  "Anjali," she breathed her name in that dusky voice that made the assassin shiver, "I learned a long time ago that this job takes and takes, and if I want to survive I have to keep a part of myself back. Here." Rosie picked up her hand and lay Anjali's palm flush against her chest. She knew the woman was referring to her heart, but Anjali couldn't deny the small thrill of her fingers thrumming against Rosie's breasts.

  "My children are in here, my few hobbies, and most importantly so are you." Both her palms cupped Anjali's cheeks, the tiny woman tugging the assassin's forehead to hers. "I'm not giving you up. Not now with a baby and a child running under foot, and not when I ascend to the throne. I love you beyond...understanding at times. It's," the woman bleeding her heart out to her paused, "it's rather amazing sometimes the fervor you cause in me."

  Slowly, Anjali drew her hand up Rosie's chest, her fingers climbing until they slid back along her jaw and cupped the back of her head. "Nonsense. You're incredibly passionate, perhaps the most passionate woman I know."

  The princess snickered a moment, "Only when I'm with you." Her trembling lips pecked against Anjali's, Rosie's chest flattening out against the assassin's while the assassin lifted her love higher to deepen the kiss. It wasn't easy, loving a woman destined to lead a nation never could be. It wasn't what she ever foresaw in her future, even her mother scoffed in shock when she was told the news.

  But by the Maker, it was what she wanted. Stepping away from her Sapheela wouldn't just crush Rosie's heart, it'd obliterate Anjali's as well. "Forgive me for holding these thoughts inside so tight," Anjali blathered in her native tongue, tears blinding her eyes. "I feared that voicing them might give them substance or...or that you'd find wisdom inside of them."

  "My beautiful heart," Rosie whispered a phrase that didn't quite make sense in Rivani but was so beautiful rolling off her tongue. "Please don't think you have to hide from me. My life is yours."

  It was foolish to say. Her life belonged to the people, to the court, to her children, but... Anjali glanced down at their hands locked together. Absently she circled her finger and thumb around Rosie's ring finger. You'd pledge yourself to her in whatever way she asked: marriage, fealty, to the death. Anything. Everything.

  "I love you," Anjali whispered, choking on her own sentimentality.

  Rosie pressed a kiss to her cheek, her long eyelashes swiping past before she slid down to her feet, "And I love you."

  Time would pass and maybe Anjali's fears would come to fruition. Perhaps the crown would drag down Rosie until she had to shake away the assassin in her life. The children could cause it as well, or even that tacked on husband.

  Maker take her, but the woman who got through life by taking it by the reins, by refusing to bend to the demands of destiny, had to trust in another's fate and see what would come.

  "You," Anjali coughed and blinked a moment, "I'm certain there are a dozen of your stuff shirted Banns waiting for your attention."

  "Two dozen," Rosie tipped her head, "and one Arl watching over them." Anjali moved to step back and release her to her duties, but Rosie's hands clung tighter to her skin. When Anjali looked into her eyes in confusion, the princess smiled, "I think I need to take a little break and reclaim a piece of myself that's been ignored for far, far..." her fingers drifted across Anjali's hips swirling to follow the curves before both dug into her ass, "too long."

  "My Majesty," Anjali laughed, greedily lapping her tongue into Rosie's mouth.

  "No," she shook her head a moment, those eternal emerald eyes shining. With a shove, Rosie tipped Anjali back onto a desk, her hands yanking apart the assassin's leathers. Her voice panting, Rosie kissed her with a flourish before she leaned over to her ear and whispered, "Your Sapheela."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Family

  He couldn't stop reaching for the sword at his hip despite there not being one present. Whenever the breeze wafted, or Gavin had to shift on his legs, instinctively his hand would drift right to the side to steady the slip of a nonexistent sheathe. It was the castle. When called to visit the palace he was always in at least half armor and armed as much for appearances as anything. But today was different.

  A loud squeal reverberated through the autumnal gardens followed by a dozen voices rushing to its aid.

  Today was very different.

  Hordes of children dashed about in play, tiny feet flapping while party clothes ripped and stained against the juices of overripe fruit and grass. The adults shrugged it off, grateful for the reprieve from having to tend to happy children. Stains and tears could be solved later. While all of the babies in the age range from under a year up to six ran around the garden in pursuit of each other, their parents and guardians stood at the sides. A few kept a careful eye on the proceedings, but the rest were happy to drown themselves in the wine or food.

  At least the cheese was excellent, which shouldn't come as a surprise given the guest of honor.

  Somewhere under the pile of tiny legs and arms their beloved King was laughing while his many grandchildren all throttled him with love. A few parents tried to tug their babies off, especially the ex-mistresses of the prince, but his Majesty would wave their hands away and insist that he didn't mind taking a tiny foot to the solar plexus. It was all in good fun.

  "You look as out of place as a qunari in an Orlesian court," a voice drummed beside him and Gavin turned to find the
Princess slipping closer. She held her son in her arms, the boy close to one year old himself. Her arms wained from the growing weight, but the child looked exhausted, his head dangling down in what had to be an uncomfortable position.

  Absently swiping a hand back over his recently shorn head, Gavin sighed, "This is different from what I am used to."

  "Really?" she cracked a smile and tried to shuffle her baby higher, "You and Myra have been married for a while now."

  "Three years."

  "Maker's breath, time flies. And this is your first family party?"

  He blinked a moment, trying to find a polite way of saying that while he spent many holidays and birthdays in Reiss' home and that side of Myra's life, being with the royal family side was new. "I seem to always be called to another part of Ferelden whenever it is a feast day," Gavin said instead, causing Rosie to crack.

  "So you're saying it's my doing. No wonder father was insistent all his children attend," she sighed to herself, then turned to the boy. "Blessed Andraste, you are a weight and a half." Her son found it hilarious, a giggle wafting from his lips at the thought.

  Gavin turned from the Princess to gaze around the garden, when he felt her eyes land upon him. "Ser Gavin," she commanded, his back straightening up on instinct. When he slid to his sovereign, it wasn't a direct order he received but a squirming child thrust into his arms. Trying to not panic at the very important baby clumsily entrusted to him, Gavin cinched his hands tight.

  "My lady...?" he gasped, locking the boy's back tight to his chest. Arms and legs were free to flap around while Gavin wound both his biceps against the prince's midsection to sucker him in safe.

  "You're going to have figure it out rather soon, might as well get started now," Rosie chuckled while watching him nod his head in terror. The baby stopped his mad tirade a moment, no doubt because his chances of breaking free from Gavin's grip were impossible. Delicately, Rosamund skirted her fingers over her son's forehead, attempting to smooth the hairs back in place.

  Babies. He...he had a grasp on this. Forlornly, his eyes darted over to the massive pile of grandchildren. There were already five, including the one in Gavin's hands, soon enough to be six. He could handle one baby crying, even knew how to carry one or change a diaper as the constant press of children in the palace would require pants changes from the most unlikely of places. But to have so many in one place...

  The concept of a cacophony of voices crying out at once froze his blood dead in his veins, while the King laughed uproariously at his grandkids. One sat perched in his lap, while two of Cailan's from different mothers were dashing about snatching up all the flowers for their grandfather. Most were weeds, but King Alistair was happily bundling them all together to make a bouquet -- when the child in his lap didn't take to ripping the petals off.

  "Scared yet?" Rosie asked, her eyes sizing him up.

  Gavin hefted the royal prince a bit higher and felt his heart beat louder through his body. "At times," he confessed, "and others I am excited."

  The princess smiled as if that was the right answer. "How is Myra doing?"

  "Just bloody wonderful," his wife's voice cut from behind, causing both to turn to find her. She had a hand cupped under her bulging belly that filled out almost overnight. "I look like a middle heavy snowman," Myra complained. "One small tip and down I go!"

  Her shoeless toes dug into the grass. It was rare for her to wear any after her poor feet and ankles swelled up beyond anything they owned. Gavin kept insisting they should buy a new pair for her, but Myra was dead certain they had to return to normal after the baby was out. Maybe if he purchased a pair similar to ones she already owned and snuck them into the closet...

  "Oh blighted Maker," Myra gasped, her hands sliding over the undeniable bulge under her dress.

  Reaching over, Gavin cupped a hand against her arm and pecked a loving kiss to her cheek. "How are you feeling?"

  "Better now that the bushes over there are well watered. This kid's taken up all the good real estate left inside of me. Pretty sure my bladder's had to hide away in my lungs in the interim." She grumbled to herself, but her eyes misted over as she kept massaging her stomach. Leaning closer, Gavin wrapped one hand around the small of her back to allow his wife to rest her head upon his shoulder.

  Not more than an hour or so before this party, Myra lay upon their bed in nothing but her smalls -- the hems tucked delicately under her popped belly. She spoke to the baby inside, telling it all about her day while he stood to the side and watched. He'd missed a lot of her second trimester, off in Highever on business, but Gavin swore the moment he returned that he'd stay by her side no matter what. In public, Myra made a show of grumbling about the pains of pregnancy and how much it wore on her, but in the privacy of their room she'd curl both palms over her stomach and talk incessantly to the baby.

  He suspected she was putting on the show to cut down on her parents asking about a second or third, though he and Myra had already privately begun talks about such an endeavor. It all hinged upon how this first one went. Gavin prayed every night, even when he was far from Denerim, that the Maker would protect them both in His loving embrace to the end. If he lost Myra...

  With a wicked smile, she turned to him, "I see Rossie tricked you into holding her escape artist of a son."

  "He is not..." Rosie began, her eyes whipping to Gavin's bulging arm to make certain her boy remained in lock up.

  "Uh huh, how many cribs did he break his way out of?" Myra asked while folding a hand over her chest.

  "Four," the princess confessed with a sigh. "Last time he managed to pile up all the stuffed animals in the room to climb out on."

  "Good thing you've got your assassin," Myra chuckled while jerking her head towards the woman favoring the punch bowl. Rosie followed suit and sighed to herself.

  "Indeed, though I don't think Anjali ever foresaw herself as a baby bounty hunter," the princess continued to stare at her lover a moment longer, before she smiled to herself and turned to Gavin. "Perhaps you will need to hire her services in due time?"

  "Beg pardon?" he gasped.

  "A baby of Myra's..." Rosie snorted and shook her head, "You'll need all the help in thedas."

  "Blighted hell," Myra growled, "you sound like my mother. I think I can handle a baby, okay. Even if it comes out shrewd and can climb like a cat."

  "Uh huh," Rosie crossed her arms, her eyes opening wide a moment while taking in Myra's assessment.

  "When," Gavin shifted on his toes, growing more aware of how the little prince kept waving his arms and legs in a need to be let down. "When are they capable of climbing?"

  Both women turned to the man doing his best to not sweat and chuckled. Rosie scooped her son up out of his waning arms, but the boy didn't last long in the air. As she placed his wobbling feet into the grass, she sighed, "You'll know the second you're picking one off the top shelf."

  "Sweet merciful Maker," Gavin whispered to himself, his eyes shutting in prayer. A kiss pressed to his cheek and he glanced over to find Myra's smiling face filling his vision. As terrifying as a child overladen with her exuberance and skill would be, it would also have her great heart and brilliant mind. With one hand curling over her stomach and the baby within, Gavin bumped his forehead against his wife's. It'd be okay. And if not, there were a few knights who served under him that he could call upon to subdue one little baby.

  "Yes, yes," Rosie called to her boy who was stomping in the ground as if it wronged him. "Go find Pampy too," she sighed, releasing her son into the wilds. He managed a few wobbling steps towards the mass of children before the boy was swept up into the play.

  "They grow so fast," the princess mused to herself, her arms crossing in front of her chest. "I swear it was just yesterday I was teaching Lizzy how to walk and look at her now." She gestured to the brown eyed girl who was doing her best to perform a cartwheel. The princess had the basic idea down, but after tipping onto her head, she'd pause and then flop to the side. It didn't
do much to slow her down though, the girl shouting for her grandfather to keep watching until she got it.

  Gavin's palm circled over the top of Myra's stomach as she nuzzled tighter to his neck. He'd only been back for a week and so much in his world had changed it felt as if he walked into an entirely new house. There were so many stacks of offerings from all over thedas to guard against their oncoming storm it looked as if the place was about to burst into pastel confetti.

  "I shall not play as your puppet," a woman's heavily accented voice cut over the laughter and light breeze as the Comtess and her husband both stomped away from the gate.

  "Here it comes yet again," Cailan groaned back. "I ask you to do something, something simple, easy, things a mabari could handle, and your default approach is to call me a brigand dog-lord and act as if I have chained you to the ground."

  Comtess Dynesia growled and shook her head, a smattering of her native tongue whipping across the Prince. Tucked inside her spewing bile was the dreaded 'dog-lord' before her defiant eyes stared hard at her husband. Cailan chuckled, a hand placed to his hip, "Yes, yes, feel for the poor, pretty daughter of a Comte forced into this marriage she agreed to. Truly, it's a tale that will shatter hearts across thedas."

  "You are a vile, twisted, worm of a man," Dynesia hissed, leaping tight into Cailan's face while waggling her finger at him.

  The prince sighed, his blue eyes honing in on the woman, "You forgot unambitious, cold hearted, and lugubrious."

  "I was working to them!" she screeched, the woman seeming about to tear out the prince's eyeballs with her fingernails.

  Gavin instinctively leaned tighter to his wife as if to protect her should the Comtess spilt apart into a demon, but Myra and even Rosie seemed unsurprised by the display. A few of the children were looking over, and the baby's mothers were staring a bit more intently, but the rest at the party were incapable of caring about the epic fight.