Beatrice seemed to be soothed finally from her fears, her coifed head bobbing in acceptance of the promise. No doubt she was already planning the very important ritualistic parties that went along with such a thing. As long as there was cake, Alistair would put up with it. "Thank you," she said solemnly.
"You know I love them. That hasn't changed, it's not going to change. If I didn't stop loving them when Spud splattered paint across my shields or Cailan ripped up a dozen missives from Bann Cedric...actually, I should thank him for that one. Bea, I'm not going anywhere. I kinda can't, people notice that goofy face in the royal painting squatting at the bar beside them and call for the guards."
They shook once more, Alistair making the mental note to try and track down Karelle. He had yet to tell her about Reiss' impending move into the palace for awhile. Getting to gussy up a drafty old room into a nursery sounded like something right up the Chamberlain's alley. It could be a bonus from him.
He turned to the door to the kid's room, planning on giving them both goodbye hugs, when Beatrice spoke, "What of your child with Reiss? What shall it do in the future?"
His fingers drifted over the handle, Alistair sighing, "Whatever he or she wants. I'm going to give the baby the one thing I always wanted, freedom to never ever have to get anywhere near the throne."
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
One Day
25 weeks...
A crate landed outside the tiny storeroom's door, the sound tugging Lana's attention away from what she'd already been sorting through. "Don't tell me it's another one," she groaned to Melissa. The herbalist and also washerwoman shrugged her shoulder before cracking open the top with the crowbar. Lana scooted away from the box full of nappies she'd been going through to inspect the newest one.
Her fingers extracted a pair of tiny yellow knit booties with fuzzy ducks on the top and she tried to not sigh in agony. Of course it was baby stuff, that was all her life was anymore. Shaking off the annoyance, Lana smiled at the woman who brought it to her employer, "Thank you."
"My pleasure," she smiled, sliding out of the room that used to hold their excess mattresses and other linens. Now Lana was doing her best to clear it out for the baby. She also had to find a magical storage answer to somehow stack all these things babies apparently required inside little more than a glorified closet.
Melissa tried to close the door behind her, but it stuck open thanks to far too many boxes in such a tiny space. Maker's sake, Lana groaned to herself. In trying to tug the box closer to her, her barely strapped in chest bounced into a shelf that once held her potion bottles. Emptied of anything breakable weeks ago, all that her breasts scattered to the ground were piles of mittens and gloves of varying hues. Seemed everyone was gravely concerned about the idea of a baby being born in early winter.
Cursing under her breath, Lana scurried back and bent over in an attempt to pick up the scattered cold wear, when her stomach flat out stopped her. Fingers hovering a good foot over the floor, she groaned and dipped to her knees. Just as she almost got a grip on them, the door opened.
"Blessed Andraste," Lana sighed, "please don't tell me it's anymore mittens, or socks, or tiny hats to wrap around the baby's head. We're completely out of room." Her near on panic faded as she glanced up into amber eyes.
Cullen smiled at her and using his greater reach managed to pluck the mittens up off the ground and then hold her elbow. Carefully steadying her, he helped Lana back to her feet. "I was about to ask how it's going," he said, returning the cursed mittens to the shelf, before placing a quick kiss to her cheek, "but I can see the answer."
Situating her stomach as best she could, Lana glared at the crates remaining to be unpacked before she could get off her cruel feet. "Look at all this," she groaned. "You'd think we were about to have triplets at the amount of clothing and other paraphernalia people sent us. In this box it's the old clothes from Teagan's little boy. Lots of pajamas, a damn near full rainbow of options, a few blankets, a handful of pants, and one tunic with a griffin on it."
"Sounds practical," Cullen said, eyeing it up.
"And over here, Mia's old clothes from her girls. A few dresses, more blankets, two skirts, one that's extra frilly, and these..." Lana snatched up a wad of what she'd first thought were lost garter belts to help sneak in daggers hidden under petticoats. "What are the bloody point of these?"
After picking a small blue one out of her fingers, Cullen stretched it and shrugged, "I don't know what it is."
"Headbands, which you put on the baby, as I learned after talking to one of the women. So people know you've got a girl, I guess."
"Seems as if it'd be quite a bit of work to put on a baby, or get it to stay on," Cullen began to stretch it to its limits, much as Lana had while trying to figure the things out.
"Oh, but we're not done yet. Courtesy of Leliana and the Divine, we have a christening gown made out of real silk and lace that will most likely be puked and then shat on. An honest to the Maker teeny tiny ballgown as well as a doublet in gold to match should a fancy dress party break out three months postpartum. And, of course, ruby encrusted shoes for the baby. The baby that won't be capable of walking."
Lana plopped the ruby slippers into Cullen's hands. His eyes opened wide while twisting them around, the soles of the shoes half the size of his palms. "They are rather adorable," he said diplomatically. That was all he'd been lately. Lana would complain about her body shifting and popping like some demon was trying to prod through her skin and he'd smile, rub her shoulders, and say 'it'd be okay.' She didn't want to be calmed down, she wanted to rant and rave.
"Wait, we're not done yet, because here's a box from the Seeker Cassandra. Not as large, thank the Maker, but..." Lana lifted up a tiny scrap of metal bent slightly inward with a teeny leather strap inside.
"Is that a shield?" Cullen shifted it back and forth, the shield slightly larger than the Divine's baby shoes. Sure enough, there was a symbol of the chantry painted on the outside to take on any micro-darkspawn. "Was that all?"
"Of course not, what's a shield without a tiny sword?" Lana extended the glorified letter opener that came with its own leather scabbard. How in the Maker's name the Seeker found anyone balmy enough to make weaponry for a baby she'd never comprehend. "There are also a few pink blankets with white hearts on them, so it's not a total loss."
Cullen returned the baby shield and sword to the box and scooped an arm around Lana's shoulders. As he tried to massage away the knots popping like mushrooms after a rainstorm, he asked, "I'm guessing that's not it."
"I haven't even gotten to Hawke's gifts," she rolled her eyes to him.
"Do I wish to ask?"
"Furs. Many, many furs," Lana screwed up her eyes, trying to keep calm.
"Fur blankets would..."
"No, not blankets. I'm pretty sure there's a fur nappy in there, somehow. Sweet Maker, I love our friends but I think they're going to kill me," she groaned. Deep down inside, Lana knew she shouldn't complain about their generosity. It kept her from having to attempt to sew baby clothes, and the ones who'd had children before did send useful articles, but... For the love of Andraste, where was she supposed to put all this?
Cullen stepped over the box of newest who-knew-what, and swept his arms fully around her. Exhausted, Lana draped her head to his chest and buried herself into his eternal embrace. Clearly at a loss for words, he merely curled his fingers through Lana's hair which was its own disaster. She hadn't had time to oil it in what felt like forever, half of it nothing but frizz.
Mumbling, she draped both her arms over his neck and cuddled deeper in. "I'm so tired of being pregnant," she groaned. "My body runs into everything now. If it's low, the stomach will sweep it like a rogue going for your legs, and if it's here..." she gestured to her chest, "no chance. I can't even walk into my potion room anymore without facing a floor littered with broken glass."
Cullen pressed his lips to her forehead, still not speaking as she kept ranting about her good misfo
rtune. "I miss being free to walk around to the grotto. I miss being able to bend over to pick the herbs in the grotto. I really miss not having to pee every hour."
"It'll be over soon enough," he whispered to her skin.
"Fifteen weeks, give or take," she sighed. "That's nearly four months. How in the Maker's name did I get this huge this fast?" Lana's hands drifted across Cullen's shoulders, measuring his great stature. "You. It's all your doing. This is what I get for falling in love with you."
"Me?"
"You're gigantic!" she laughed, "compared to teeny, tiny me. And if this kid's anything like you then it's gonna come out six feet tall."
Cullen chuckled at her misfortune, "I don't think that's going to happen."
"Right, just you wait. I'm gonna have giant feet kicking into my brain before the end." Sure enough, another round of baby announcing to the world it existed and was rather unhappy with its cramped quarters erupted.
She reeled in her ranting tongue and slowly draped her hand down under her robes to feel the kicks beating up against her thinner tunic. Cullen watched, his cautious eyes surveying to see where it would be safe to cross. "Is there nothing about this you enjoy?"
"No," she gasped, tears prickling in her eyes at the hurt in his voice. Wrapping up his fingers, she pulled them in between her robe and tunic so he could feel his baby as well. "This is amazing, though maybe not at three in the morning," she tacked on, causing Cullen to roll his eyes.
He began to slide his hand away, but Lana held it tighter in place. "It's not that I don't cherish the idea of growing this piece of us inside of me," she whispered. "Maybe it's cheesy to think it's our love made real, but..." Lana felt a blush rising at the thought she'd never have the nerve to say to anyone else.
His weary eyes rolled down to her, an apology sitting in there. "Lana," Cullen brushed his cheek against hers, the scruff biting the acne that popped up overnight courtesy of her womb squatter. "I..." he glanced down, perturbations clinging to his tongue. They were both exhausted, both on pins and needles, and both scared to upset the other. This situation was both theirs and no one's fault which made it maddening during the bad days. Cullen sighed, "I suppose I shouldn't make this all about me."
"Honey eyes," she murmured, tugging him down to her for a kiss. "I want the baby, I really do. I want your baby, I just..." Sighing, Lana pinched the top of her nose and groaned, "I'm tired. I want one day when I don't have to think about it. Don't have to sort through hordes of baby things. Don't have to prep the potions room on overtime in preparation of my giving birth. Don't have to lose you for hours to work and the wood shop while you craft a cradle. For one day I, I want to forget I'm pregnant, and be me again."
Her head tipped down, her eyes drifting across the gifts she didn't deserve. "Maker's breath, I sound like a spoiled brat."
"No," Cullen cupped his hand to her chin, the other one breaking from her belly to curl around her back, "you don't." Placing a second kiss to her lips, Lana tried to find succor and also energy in his embrace. He was her panacea through this.
"I think you deserve a day," Cullen said, his forehead brushing against hers.
"Don't be silly. It's just whinging from me. We have far too much to do here," Lana shook it away, well aware she wasn't going to be able to escape her belly no matter how hard she tried.
But those amber eyes glinted with a dangerous plan taking root. "I'll need a few days to prep, but I think I can arrange something."
"Really?" It didn't need to be the opera, or even a fancy dinner, just somewhere without templars, or binkies, or books full of graphic drawings of what was happening to her insides. "What are you thinking?"
"Nope," Cullen planted a kiss to her nose and began to sidle over the box, "that will ruin the surprise. I best leave you to organizing all of this, while I...attend to things."
"You can't be serious," she called as her husband slid out the door with a smile on his lips. "I'm terrible at surprises!"
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
The Beginning
"Where are we?"
She could hear the sound of water sloshing, which wasn't too surprising as Lana knew they were on a boat. Cullen helped to get her seated upon it partially due to her distended stomach and mostly because of the blindfold. Then he took up the oar and began to tug them across the river or lake. It wasn't a matter of what she was sitting in but the question of where the boat was.
"Wait and see," he chuckled, a strain in his voice as he grunted and the oars crested above the water before making another splash.
"Is it a river?"
"Maker's breath," he sighed at her tenacity. She'd been guessing for days, Lana allowed to keep her vision until they drew near on a carriage. It'd been the talk of the abbey when what looked like a fancy royal one rolled up. Lana expected Ali to come tumbling out with some newest problem, but there was no one inside, only the driver who passed the reins to her husband.
For a few days they traveled the countryside, going far slower than was necessary while Lana sat perched up beside Cullen in the driver's seat. If she grew exhausted or needed a nap, there was the cab, but snuggling tight to her husband was a far more enjoyable way to pass through the summer forest. Every question of where they were going was met with a pursed lip and refusal. It went from being a small game to Lana desperately needing an answer.
The boat was a bit of surprise. Perhaps he was trying to throw her off in her guesses. They'd been traveling north, and there weren't a lot of rivers to the north. There was the Waking Sea, but it didn't stink of fish and salt, nor was there a very good reason for them to head so far away from Ferelden. That only left...
"Is this a lake?" Lana asked, "Lake Calenhad?"
"By all that is holy," Cullen groaned, "sit there and turn off your brain for a moment. We'll be arriving shortly so try to act surprised."
So it was Lake Calenhad. Were they heading into Redcliffe? Lana shifted in her seat. While she'd aged quite a bit since her last visit to the village, and her figure now was more or less four balls stacked on top of each other, there was a good chance she could be recognized. Surely Cullen knew that.
Trying to shake off the fear, Lana sat up higher in the boat when her body lurched forward. "We've arrived," Cullen announced, as if she couldn't feel the prow ramming into a dock. It took a few minutes for her landlocked husband to tie up the boat through its eyelets. Once it was all secure, he helped to guide Lana up onto the dock. She had to shuffle her feet, bending with the tilt of aging boards.
"Can I take off the blindfold?"
"No," he sighed, "just...a little more." Cullen slipped her cane into her fingers and then guided her arm to lock around his. "This way." Stepping slowly, and no doubt watching the ground like a hawk, her husband led Lana down this last path. She felt the wooden slats of the dock fade away to sandy grit and then gravel.
"Okay," he dropped her hand and then tugged off the blindfold.
Lana blinked against the low summer sun, white spots taking shape from the darkness, and then noticed she stood in a tall shadow. Staring up and up, her hand flew to her mouth in shock. "Kinloch?" she gasped. "But I..." she turned back to her husband who was knotting the blindfold around his hands like a garrote while he glared at what had once been their home.
"Cullen," she curled her fingers around his, calming the twitch in his jaw.
"You wanted a day where you didn't have to think about being pregnant and I. I don't know, I just couldn't stop thinking about the old tower. Our old tower," he explained.
Kinloch. She hadn't returned in ages, not since before the rebellion. Even then, Lana rarely dropped in once she joined the wardens. Perhaps a small part of her was worried that when it came time to depart, the templars would once again bar the doors to her. It loomed above them, birds circling through no doubt tiny holes in the roof made gargantuan with no one left to maintain them.
"Should we head inside to look around?" Cullen whispered, his voice fading lower. She turned back to
him and spotted a familiar blush as if that eighteen year old, uncertain Knight-Recruit returned.
"Lets," Lana smiled, snatching up his hand and guiding it around her waist. The awkwardness faded from him and her husband/about-to-become-a-father placed a kiss to her forehead. It took little work to open the front door, the old locks long since shattered. What struck her first was the silence. The tower was never silent; mages gossiping, templar armor clanking, spells misfiring. It was a near on constant noise of life every second of which she'd known since the age of six, and now...
"I feel like I'm walking into a tomb," Lana whispered. The white marble was filthy -- time, bandits, and bored children scarring what had once been cleaned by the Tranquil.
Cullen clung tighter to her body while the other hand drifted towards his hip. "It's very quiet," he mused.
Spinning on her heel, Lana was startled to find no one standing beside the great doors. She gasped a moment and then laughed at her foolishness. Cullen stared a question and she explained, "I was surprised there wasn't anyone guarding the exit. It feels empty without a templar or two standing there."
"Mostly bored out of their skulls trying to count holes in the ceiling," he mused to himself, but the twitch had returned to his jaw.
"Cullen," she whispered, sliding closer to him, "if you don't want to be here..." It was sweet of him to plan something but not if it hurt.
He blanched a moment, then shook it off, his fingers falling limply to his sides. "No, I..." A sweet smile replaced the grit and he picked up Lana's hand, gently tugging her through the old doors into the place proper. "I wanted to come back to where it all began."
Love's Blush Page 88