Love's Blush

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  "Maybe, a little," Reiss sighed at her little girl getting so much bigger every day. "Eh, this isn't the time for melancholy. We should celebrate," she said, clinking her mug into Lunet's.

  "Damn straight. Here Rat, to you for digging your heels in and bringing back that stupid sword you never even really cared about."

  She summed up the problem only how Lunet could and then tipped her drink back. Lunet could down half the mug in a swallow but Reiss had to go much slower, her tolerance of alcohol taking a big hit after Myra. So many changes that happened after a baby no one ever warned you about, so many problems.

  "I never took our 'mysterious benefactor' as the spirits type, outside of something fermented in a shoe at the back of a closet, but this shit's good. Nice and smooth," Lunet damned Alistair with faint praise. She lapped up her drink, then caught Reiss' mostly full mug. Rather than drinking it, she was too focused on her baby slumbering peacefully in the fade.

  A day away and Myra didn't even care. Did she already forget about her?

  Maker's sake, Rat. Reiss pinched herself and shook her head. She's your daughter, your infant daughter, she loves you. She needs you. Don't be stupid. Taking a greater shot, Reiss had to smack her lips as the fried dough taste mixed with the rum to slide down into her too full stomach. "We'll come back," Reiss swore to herself.

  "Aye, we're getting there," Lunet nodded, her eyes turning towards the stack of potential work. People weren't flocking to their doors, but there were more than a few postings to the chantry board they pilfered. Coin was coin at this point. "Do you need me to stay with you for the night?"

  "Hm...?" Reiss turned from the case of a missing mirror to face Lunet.

  "I was thinking about heading down to the festival by the docks, heard a few more of the elves from Orlais moved into the city. A couple of 'em are real pretty," she winked like her old self, but Reiss spotted the tenderness below. It was her first time getting back out into the cesspool of courting since Harding.

  "Sure, sure, you should go on. Meet someone lovely, seduce her, and break her heart," Reiss smiled which caused Lunet to roll her eyes. "Alistair will be coming by later."

  Pointing to the dead street and black night, Lunet asked, "Later? How much later can one get?"

  "He said it'd be pretty late, something about an emergency meeting which was pissing off all the people who wanted to get the festival. Besides," Reiss turned to the mabari that was eyeing up that oat muffin with the hungriest eyes she'd ever seen, "I have Muse here to keep me company."

  "Good to know my presence is outmatched by a slobbering creature that's likely to lick its own genitals before kissing you," Lunet smiled wickedly and Reiss caught on where she was going.

  "Don't," she warned, but her friend shifted uncomfortably on her feet, the quip building inside of her like gas. "That's her father," Reiss tipped her head to the sleeping baby unaware of anything going on.

  Lunet shrugged, "So you're saying just cause he made another brat I can't poke fun anymore?"

  "No, just don't go for such an obvious joke. Really. Anyone here woulda seen it coming a mile away. I expect better from you," Reiss laughed, finishing off her rum.

  "Forgive me for not being of sparkling wit after a day of babysitting a squealing dwarf and your half-blood," she meant it as a laugh, but Reiss pursed her lips and turned back to her clearly human baby. Myra remained long for her age, but sure enough the chubby fat rolls appeared around her midsection and thighs. It was achingly adorable, leaving many to comment about wishing to eat her baby, but it wasn't elven. Nothing about her was.

  "Hey," Lunet touched her shoulder, "there ain't nothing wrong with the half-bloods."

  "Really? Would you date one?" Reiss turned on her, well aware of Lunet's opinions when it came to bedding shems.

  At that she paused and then frowned, "Maybe. If she weren't too much of a prig one way or the other. Have to admit to being elfy, but they tend to all hide it away. Never want a knife-ear on their arm neither cause that ruins their secret. Your little one's different though. She knows where she comes from."

  "Yeah, lucky her," Reiss sighed. It was her choice to keep Myra down in the dregs; she prayed her daughter wouldn't come to resent her for it.

  "Anyway," Lunet flipped her mug up and left it on the desk, "I'm out. See ya tomorrow for the big hanging celebration. Maybe I'll even bring a cake for it." After grabbing her coat, Lunet slipped half an arm around to hug Reiss while standing, then glanced down at Myra. What used to be a cautious 'I'm not certain about this thing' look now appeared as if Lunet was melting from the baby's dreamy smile.

  Shaking it off, Lunet slipped towards the door, "See ya later, Rat." Her words rang out as she closed it tight. Even from in the back, Reiss watched the silhouette of Lunet drifting towards the docks, her head held high as she went on the prowl. Good for her. Harding had been Lunet's first serious love as far as Reiss was aware and while she never let on that anything hurt her, Lune had been less than flirty of late. Even her crass assessments dwindled down to the occasional "Yeah, she's pretty. I suppose."

  "Your Auntie Lunet's going to be a terrible influence," Reiss chuckled to herself, before weighing the idea of her friend telling a teen Myra all the tricks of a proper romance. "Maker, I hope she waits until you're sixteen before you get the full lay of the land."

  Taking a longer swig of her drink, Reiss gazed around at what she'd accomplished in the past weeks. It'd been long hours, Myra often having to be left in the company of Lunet or the others. She didn't seem to mind, her baby quickly warming to just about anyone that came into view. Quite a lot like her father in that.

  Alistair, of course, was not happy. He tried to pretend he was at least okay with this, but Reiss knew him well enough to know when he was faking things. There'd been a good dozen jokes around drainpipes while they'd said quick goodbyes outside the palace before she and Myra had to return home. If there was another way, Reiss would find it. She'd move thedas itself so he could be with his baby girl, but life didn't work that way. It wasn't blighted fair, certainly never to her.

  And not often to him, either.

  "Oh Myra, the second you start crying for your daddy I may crumble," she groaned, her head pitching towards the desk. Warm fur rubbed up against Reiss' arm and she turned to find Sylaise beaming those old yellow eyes at her. "How are you holding up with the baby? Bet you thought you were done watching over 'em, eh?" She scritched along the cat's head, getting a great rumble of a purr from below all that grey fur.

  Reiss glanced over at Muse who was happily curled up in his bed. It was designed for a dog three sizes smaller but the doofy thing thought he fit and refused to sleep in anything else. The whole office pitched in to help raise their own mabari, which was probably what was going to happen with Myra. Try as hard as she liked it Jorel would teach her baby girl how to pick locks, Lunet would fill her mind with every possible swear word in thedas, from Kurt she'd learn the trick to forging numbers without anyone noticing, and Qimat how to subdue an enemy without uncrossing your arms. Perhaps there'd be some lady lessons in there, Alistair made mention of a tutor like the one the princess had. How to curtsy, the right fork to use, the difference between a baron and a count. All things that wouldn't serve a half-blood girl a lick down here in the gutters.

  Staggering to her feet, Reiss glanced down at her baby, all tuckered out from a day of learning dastardly deeds and how to circumvent them. For now it was nonsense to her developing brain, but soon it'd begin to stick. With her pristine blonde hair slicked around her head, and her eyes shut tight against the light, Myra looked like an angel. In her fussing, she'd kicked up the edge of her sleep dress until it revealed her pale tummy. Reaching down, Reiss tried to smooth it back where it belonged without disturbing her sleeping baby.

  That would be a criminal offense in here. Wake the baby and you'd get ten lashes or a stack of reports to fill out by long hand. Most would probably take the lashes. As she lay out the ivory hem, her fingers riffled
across the embroidered words "you're family." Reiss didn't remember dressing Myra in her sister's gown, she was in such a hurry to retrieve the sword she grabbed the first thing she could find.

  "One day," Reiss whispered to her daughter, "I'll take you to see your aunt in Val Royeaux. Though I should warn you, she'll probably lecture you on your posture and diction."

  A sound echoed from outside the street, strange enough to draw Reiss from her sleeping baby. She glanced up just as a black bird dove headfirst through their new window. Instead of the bird thudding into it with a broken neck, the glass shattered at impact. Reiss bent over her daughter's crib shielding her from any spray of slicing rain. As the sound of falling glass faded away, Reiss looked down. Green eyes peeked up from her nap, Myra roused at the noise but unharmed.

  With her daughter safe, she glanced up expecting to find blood and a dead crow to deal with, but the bird sat on the floor, its beady yellow eye glaring at her. Reiss instinctively took a step forward when the very air bent inward. Instead of pulling her towards it like a gust of wind, shadows twisted around the creature. She fumbled for a handhold when the what had to be magic, though she'd never seen nor heard of anything like it, stopped.

  A woman stood where the bird had, hair as dark as the feathers with the same haunting yellow eyes. She wiped a bit of shattered glass off her shoulder as if it were lint then stepped towards Reiss. Certainty glittered in those haunting eyes.

  "What do you...?" Reiss asked when the woman waved her hand. Reiss' entire body froze solid, not in ice, but as if the air itself held her. A hundred imaginary hands clung to her arms, legs, head, shoulders. She couldn't even move a finger or speak as the woman stepped past her to gaze down into the crib.

  "I am sorry for this," was all she said stopping to hover above Reiss' baby.

  No. No! Reiss screamed mentally at herself, willing her mind to move anything in her body. She could stop this woman, she had to. Rage boiled in her veins as the woman circled closer to the crib. Not even bothering to care about the mother she paralyzed, this intruder -- this witch -- dipped down and began to reach towards Myra.

  Her baby's eyes opened at the stranger and a great wail erupted. The woman froze a moment, and Reiss prayed Myra's cries would stop this, halt whatever evil plan she had. But the woman hardened her heart and reached into the crib. Lashing faster than the eye could see, Sylaise stuck her claws deep into the woman's hand.

  She reared back from Myra and, with her terrifying magic, hurled the cat across the room. A sickening crunch erupted where Sylaise landed against the desk, her body falling at the wrong angle and slumping off to the fireplace below.

  Maker! No...not her cat. The woman barely blinked at the life she snuffed out or her blood dribbling on the back of her hand as she returned to steal the baby.

  Get out of this.

  Move!

  Reiss roared inside her head, the feral cry that ripped apart any who dared to hurt her, hurt the ones she loved. Stretching with every muscle in her body, a pop reverberated in the air and she was free of her prison. Stumbling forward in three steps, Reiss snatched up the golden sword off her desk.

  The woman turned, realizing her magic failed, when Reiss slashed the blade towards her. She dodged too quickly, but Reiss drew it back again and again. One struck! A nick of blood dribbled out of a gash against the witch's arm. Glancing at the wound, the woman sneered and raised her hands.

  Oh, fuck you!

  Reiss ran forward at the witch, a shoulder down as if she intended to plow her over. At the last second she twisted in a circle and jammed the sword backwards. The mage danced away, but not fast enough as it bit through meat and the woman screamed in pain.

  "No one touches my daughter," Reiss hissed, yanking the sword free and spinning to take down this woman in one more blow. She'd almost stabbed into the thigh artery but was too low. Blood spurted out of the long cut in the mage's skirt, coating the floor and her shoes in the crimson gore as she scrabbled backwards. No toying, no giving this bitch a chance, no letting her explain it. Reiss shifted her arms around, the sword aiming right for her neck.

  She took a step forward when the witch's eyes lit up, her hands lifted and the force of a hurricane shattered against Reiss. Her body flew through the air along with her desk, until both splattered against the wall. Reiss fell first, pain exploding behind her eyes as first her back struck the wall, then her chest plummeted onto the ground.

  No.

  Get up!

  Get up, now!

  Her brain screamed at her, but her body was spent. Darkness faded in and out, light bringing flickers of the strange woman lifting Myra from her crib, her baby screaming at this intruder until the witch waved her fingers and then stillness. No! Myra! An uncaring yellow eye turned on Reiss' fallen body, then she vanished out the door.

  No...

  Blackness took her, the faint trying to swaddle Reiss in its embrace. Let go, there's no pain here. No loss. Only sleep.

  Pain.

  "Gah!" Reiss' fingers stumbled towards her side where she found something impaled into her gut. Yanking it out, she spotted the Maker damn nameplate Jorel insisted he needed broke a good inch into her skin. She cursed him, and her for being stupid enough to let him get it, while trying to sop up the blood. It was a trickle for her, the wound mostly of the battering type. Her body felt as if a golem danced a jig upon her, but she sucked in a breath.

  Rising up to her feet, Reiss was cursing every word Lunet taught her when her eyes landed upon the empty crib. Grief ripped open her soul, her heart shredded as she limped towards it praying that somehow, someway Myra slipped to the floor. That she was safe, giggling under Mommy's desk and waiting for a new game.

  Please. Tears flooded her eyes as she stared down at the indent where her daughter's little body should be. No. Maker, no. Not this! How could...?

  A glint of crimson gold caught Reiss' eye and she wiped away her mess of grief to stare at the sword. Coated in the witch's blood, it fell where her daughter should be. The sword she was given for standing up against someone that would hurt her own, kill her own. Every ounce of grief fled from her as rage took control.

  Reiss stared around the place to find Muse cowered in the corner, tossed in the attack same as her. "You're not too badly hurt," she said, finding a few splinters and some glass shards in his fur, luckily nothing fatal. "But..." Only a tuft of grey fur was visible from where Sylaise landed, no breath shifting the still body. "I swear to the Maker we will find her and we will kill her. I will kill her with my bare hands if I must."

  Staggering out into the street, Reiss spotted the drip of blood. She'd wounded the mage badly and unless the woman could grow wings, she wasn't getting far. With one hand gripping tight to her midsection, and Muse at her side, Reiss trailed the blood away from her place.

  Why did she do this?

  To strike back at Reiss? Was she the sister or wife of someone Reiss had put away? Or was it for ransom?

  "Maker," Reiss gritted breath broke through the still air, nary a soul existing in this dark world save the two set on vengeance, "keep my baby safe, watch over her until she...until she's in my arms again."

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

  Witch Hunt

  He knew something was wrong by the door wedged open, light leeching into the warm summer darkness. One part of Alistair's brain told him that it was a nice night out, they were trying to get a cool breeze through, but as he jogged closer towards the agency he spotted the broken window. Sense drained from him along with all the blood in his cheeks. Maker, no. Not again!

  Barreling into the wedged door with his shoulder to fully open it, he stared around the room at a massacre. Blood stains were dripped across the floor as if someone with a wound limped over it, while more crimson splattered the walls. Desks crumpled together on the far side of the office, one shattered in half again by a force that may even put Qimat to shame.

  "Reiss," he shouted, his hands cupped to his mouth. There was no one here, no
Lunet clucking her tongue at his interrupting a jelly throwing contest, or the dwarf twins trying to mop up their mess before the boss came in. "Reiss, where are...?" Alistair turned and spotted a small grey body broken beside the fireplace. Leaning towards it, the lump grew three sizes in his throat at Sylaise, her yellow eyes open wide in terror before death claimed her.

  "Maker's breath, Reiss," Alistair bounded past the broken desks and debris, his shoes splattering in the fresh blood to try and find his wife and their daughter. At Myra's crib he froze. A sword lay where his baby girl should be sleeping; a sword covered in blood.

  "Reiss, please, don't you dare have been hurt! I swear to Andraste, if you're not..." Alistair bounded up the stairs three at a time. He continued to dole out barely thought upon threats while taking what felt hours to rifle through Reiss' one room apartment. In reality, it was perhaps a minute or two at most, but time stretched into an eternity while his wretched brain kept piecing together the most obvious situation.

  They came back for her. Despite every Maker damn warning her gave her, they returned for Reiss, and she alone couldn't fight them off. She was hurt, but...not here, not dead or dying. Would they take their daughter as well? Or did she try to run for safety with Myra?

  Hurling her blanket back onto the bed, Alistair rose from checking under it and dashed back down to the ground floor. Bloody footsteps -- large, so probably his, but there were smaller ones, focused ones that led out into the street. He was no tracker, not like the way of people who'd sniff and eat dirt and stank of druffalo dung on purpose. Snatching up a broken chair leg, Alistair held it to the lamplight. It caught, at first the blue flame dancing but with no mage to tame it, the blue transformed into proper yellow and orange fire.