His words faded as Reiss sat up fast. She turned over to look at him with eyes as red as blood. The tears wouldn't stop, silently pooling down her cheeks. In her shifting, the blanket she threw over her back fell off to reveal she was topless. Both of her hands were worrying her breast as if trying to unscrew it from her chest.
"Reiss...?" Alistair stumbled towards her, his hand cupping against her naked shoulder.
"It," she sucked in the pooling despair to try and get a word out, "without Myra they're...in agony. I don't know what to do! I need my baby to suck them dry. To release this pressure, but it's...I'm sorry." She whipped her head away as if she'd failed in any way.
"Oh, Reiss," he wrapped his hands around her, pulling her face towards his chest in a hug.
"I have to clear it...or infection might. They hurt so bad and all I want is. Maker damn it, all I want is my baby!" She exploded into sobs, her face crushing into his chest while Alistair soothed back her hair. He had nothing to say to fix this, his own heart broken. Pressing his lips to the top of her head, he tried to envelope the woman he loved tight into his embrace. The despair she swallowed for an entire day erupted from her, tears staining his chest and her lips wailing for the child stolen from them.
Alistair was scared to think of Myra, to dwell upon her for more than a moment because...because it may be all they had left. The memory of her tiny hands clinging to theirs, her happy laugh, those bight green eyes gazing up in wonder. Her hatred of socks and need to kick all her blankets into a wad at the bottom of the crib.
Oh Maker!
He began to bawl too, his salty tears dripping into Reiss' hair while she moaned against him. She was stepping back, the armor slotting into place, just as Alistair came undone yet again. When Reiss lifted away from him, he tipped his head up to try and hide his despair. But she gripped onto his cheeks and tugged him down to her. Butting her forehead against his, they both cried together, admitting that neither of them were made of stone.
"What if we...?"
"We'll find her!"
"If it's too late?"
"We'll ride faster!"
Impossible to know who said which, both parents playing optimist and pessimist in equal measure while the winds shifted below them. The only reason either of them were still standing was the rage burning in their hearts. The only reason they didn't turn feral from the anger was the hope that they'd see Myra again. Reiss could cover her chubby cheeks in kisses and Alistair would mash all her hair straight up until it wafted back and forth like wheat fields.
Reiss was the first to come back from their sorrow fugue. She didn't wipe the tears off her cheeks, her hands busy trying to knead away the pain in her breasts. "You said Lana has a plan?"
He rolled his eyes hard at that, needing to take his anger out on someone. The fact Lanny wasn't here to shout him down for it helped immeasurably. "When doesn't she have a plan? They should have named her Plannema Plannerson, the Queen of Plans. I..." Alistair stumbled at Reiss' fingers cupping against the scruff on his cheek. He'd started this with a fresh shave in anticipation of some stupid little holiday that didn't matter. Nothing did until they saved Myra and punished...
"I know Lanny. She thinks she can fix this, get Morrigan to see reason." Maybe it was for the best to let her deal with the witch. Assuming their baby was safe, that she was returned unharmed and no demons inside of her or in her future, then...what was the point of caring what happened to Morrigan?
Reiss went quiet a moment, her hand flexing into a fist and releasing. "Do you think she would retaliate when I slit the witch's throat?"
"I don't..." The good, chantry boy Alistair convinced himself he was wanted to talk Reiss down, to tell her that revenge never solved anything. The spiteful creature he knew existed inside of him, that cut down Loghain without thought for how the traitor could still serve Ferelden, refused. "We can stop Lanny. If not me, her husband won't be happy about protecting a witch. Templars, finally good for something. Who knew?"
She nodded her head a moment, then winced from the pain. Reiss yanked up a washcloth and tried to rub steaming hot water over her breasts, but if it was helping she gave no signs. The pain was so excruciating, her fingers began to shake and the cloth slipped free, but Alistair caught it and carefully pressed against her skin. What had once been soft and pliant pillows felt like hard rocks, hot as a fire.
"Reiss," he swallowed, afraid that this could lead to something dangerous if not dealt with.
"I don't know what to do. Maker take me, but I could express some of it if I had Myra. She sometimes gets distracted and thinks eating is boring. Yet I'm apparently making enough milk to feed the Alienage."
"Eating boring? Are you certain that's my daughter?" Alistair tried to laugh, tried to get the mother in monumental pain to laugh. She did at least roll a side eye at him. Small progress. Dunking the washcloth back into the water, Alistair cupped his palm to her cheek, "What do you need me to do?"
"It's..." she bit her lip an idea in her head but she seemed unwilling to voice it. "If you could, um, prime the pump so to speak I think I could get enough out to calm the burn."
"Prime the...?" Alistair squinted, fully confused, when it hit him.
"Please don't make say it. I don't think I could take it if I had to--."
"Shh," he reached over and swooped his hands around her for a hug, "it's okay. It's not that weird." At that Reiss glared at him, but he held his hands up, "Believe me, the stuff I read in reports from the spymaster would turn your hair white. Why do you think I'm so grey already. I'll tell you a few of the really depraved ones involving a scarecrow and three golden nugs after I'm finished."
Trying to put any sense of this being both awkward and sexual out of his mind, Alistair focused only on helping her. Still... He kissed her on the lips, sweet and soft, before taking her nipple in his mouth and sucking. It must have been instinct that Reiss began to play with his hair, needing to unweird this connection between them while he tried to manage something even infants could. She wished it was Myra, he wished it was Myra, but it couldn't be. Not yet.
When the first drops of milk landed on his tongue, he rose up. Reiss took over quickly, trying to knead her breasts to dribble more out. It didn't spray the way a cow's did, more splattered across her naked stomach and thighs. Alistair snatched up the washcloth and tried to clean up the life-giving mess as she cleared it from her flesh. Neither spoke, just watched and tended to a case of bodies being bodies.
It wasn't until the first breast calmed, that Reiss spoke. She didn't look up from her chest, but he could hear the tears in her words. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to...this is all my fault. If I'd only listened to..."
"It's okay," Alistair dropped to his knees and wrapped himself tight to her stomach in a hug, "Don't blame yourself. This is Morrigan's doing. Blame the witch. Who we will find. She can't run from a phylactery, she can't hide from it. And...we'll find our daughter. We'll hug her, and kiss her, and tickle her until she farts."
That got Reiss to laugh a moment, her tears slowing but not stopping. "If we'd stayed at the palace..."
"Morrigan would have found a way in. It's what she does, she's always been a sneaky witch thief."
"When this is over she'll be a dead witch thief," Reiss vowed, her soul dark with purpose.
Alistair nodded, staggering higher on his knees to try and look in her eyes. "Count on it," he promised. Whatever was to come, whatever the Maker had in store for their baby, at the end of it would be his and her blades covered in Morrigan's blood. That was the only thing he was certain of in his heart.
"Now," he tried to smile, his foolish face back in place, "I believe there is one more pump I have to prime."
"You're terrible," Reiss snickered, even while turning to give him access.
"That wasn't my euphemism. Do you want to know what it tastes like?" he asked even while locking his lips around her.
"Maker's sake, no. Why would I care?" she laughed, grateful for anything to break
away the doom over their heads. After a breath, Reiss brushed her hands over his hair and whispered, "I love you."
He loved her too, but had his mouth a little too full to tell her.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
Confrontation
In the distance, Lana spotted the tell tale sign of royal guards doing their best to pretend they're not. They'd been far enough back it was unlikely Morrigan spotted them coming, but still, leaving a banner out wasn't wise. Why was it so difficult to convince those practically bred with protocol in their veins to let it go once in awhile? She gestured to Cullen then tugged her horse towards the cave Alistair tracked Morrigan to. Lana was traveling relatively light, leaving her husband to carry both their belongings and son. Thank the Maker their baby was such a good traveler and the weather was on their side for this. She didn't know what she'd have done otherwise.
Tugging the horse to a slow trot, Lana eased her closer towards the circle of well armed soldiers. They all spotted her first, each man standing at attention, when she called out, "Alistair?"
The guards turned in a pack to their King, each one flinching at her using their royal monarch's proper name, but Alistair looked up and smiled. It was a pained one, the teeth gritted to keep from screaming, but he was trying. "Lanny, thank the Maker you made it." He rose from his haunches, then offered a hand to the woman beside him. Reiss looked less like a grief stricken woman, more a soldier sent on a suicide mission. Her fingers strangled the grip of a sword, the shoulders hunched as she kept focused upon the underbrush.
Alistair grabbed onto Lana's horse to try and silence its stomping hooves, "We've got all our mounts further away so as not to tip off...to keep quiet," he needlessly explained before glancing over at Cullen. "And you brought backup," Alistair said quickly. She braced herself for whatever insult he had brewing, but he tipped his head to her husband and spat out a curt, "Good."
Cullen dismounted on his own, while Alistair helped Lana off. "What's the situation?"
"Morrigan's inside," he sneered, "stopped moving about a day ago. Just arrived ourselves. Been scouting for signs of traps outside but nothing."
"She just stopped here for a day?" Lana rustled up under her saddle bag and yanked out the cane Cullen made her. This one lit up bright red when she activated it, the veins of magic thicker than anything she'd ever had before. It seemed a strange fate that the templar was becoming quite a skilled enchanter.
Reiss drew closer to them, her face cast in shadow from a hood tucked up, but even through the darkness Lana could see pain etched deep in her eyes like lyrium in the stone. "We know what you're thinking."
"That Morrigan's aware we're following her and has set up defenses inside that cave to take us out," Lana filled in.
The elf nodded, "It's why we waited for you. Backup." Her eyes flared with murderous vengeance until a baby's gurgle drew all eyes towards Cullen's back. Gavin must have roused from his nap, the child a natural at riding on horseback. Freed from the rhythmic pounding of hooves that lulled him to sleep, he seemed ready to face this bright new world.
Lana scurried over to him, tugging apart the hood to find amber eyes staring up. "You should stay sleeping," she whispered to her baby. Chubby hands lashed out, knotting into her wind mussed hair.
"You're certain the witch is inside?" Cullen took over asking questions while Lana fussed with their baby. She moved to yank Gavin out, when she turned and spotted Reiss. The poor woman appeared as if she'd been pulverized from the inside out, tears unable to drip down sealed off ducts, leaving her eyes red with rage and sorrow. Turning back to her boy, Lana lifted up a sleep spell. She didn't use it on him often, though Maker how she wished to, but this was not the time for him to be passed around to new hands and cooed at.
"Alistair?" Cullen continued.
Her old friend shook his head and pinched into his eyes. "If you have no faith in my skills, why not come out and just say it? There's no reason to go dancing around the subject, unless you've got a pretty skirt with bells on in that saddlebag."
Cullen growled softly, which Lana disarmed by rubbing his arm. He wasn't happy about being summoned across country, but he put up no fight in racing to rescue their child. "I was only curious if Morrigan was using one of her elven mirrors to try and escape us."
"Here," Alistair dropped an ink bottle pulsing red into Cullen's hand. "Feel for yourself."
Her husband took a moment, his eyes shutting tight while he gripped against the glass. "You're correct, she is inside."
"Does she know we're here?" Lana asked.
Both templars turned to tell her, "It doesn't work like that." Then glared at each other for speaking the same thought.
"We know where she is, why are we not heading inside to find her?" Reiss snarled, her arm rotating around with her extended sword. The blade sliced through the air with enough force it drew the attention of the guards.
"Plans are a good thing. I like plans, they keep your kidneys on the inside of your body," Ali was babbling. It was a wonder he'd kept Reiss pinned in place long enough for Lana and Cullen to arrive. She looked as if she intended to rip Morrigan's throat out with her teeth. A small part of Lana couldn't blame her, but...there had to be some reason for all of this. Morrigan wasn't nice, that's a given, but she wasn't unnecessarily cruel either. She moved with purpose, they simply didn't know what that purpose was.
"I'll go first," Lana spoke up. Cullen raced towards her, no doubt to tell her over his dead body. She raised a hand to stop him, "Morrigan trusts me, and I can dismantle any wards she's put in place. Which there are; the veil feels like cottage cheese here."
It was her husband she expected the argument from, but Alistair leapt into his place, "We all go in together. Two templars plus a mage stand a far better chance against a witch than a single mage alone. You," he turned to his men, "remain here. Guard the entrance and if you hear us screaming come running."
"Yes, Sire!" the first guard saluted, and the others followed a half second after.
Lana pursed her lips, not happy with the arrangement. She was certain if she could talk to Morrigan alone then she'd be able to convince her to hand over the child. To find a different path. Alistair, Cullen, and a vengeful mother all but made that an impossibility.
"Something wrong, Lanny?" Ali peered down at her, a coldness warping his words. He was trying to mask his pain, but Morrigan set off the bomb inside of him. She'd always chalked Alistair up as a man with no spine and limbs of jelly. Stealing his child she was about to realize how wrong she was.
"No," Lana shook her head, "no, you're right. We all go in together."
"What do we do with Gavin?" Cullen asked, jabbing a thumb towards his back.
Lana paused. The right thing to do, the wise thing would be to leave him behind with the guards. There was also a small chance she could head in there and never see her baby again. It was foolish, it was stupid, but she wasn't going to take that risk. "Put him on my back. I'll hang back out of any fights." She tapped her foot against her cane, "I don't have a lot of choice on that."
She watched Cullen cloud over, no doubt he'd made the same tactical judgment she did. Then the fatherly smothering took hold, the fear of their baby boy being left to the care of these unknown men outside of a witch's cave. At least in their arms they'd always know if their child was safe or not. Nodding his head, Cullen began the arduous task of undoing the little baby pack and switching it over to his wife.
"Maker's sake, how much weight has he put on?" she groaned, feeling like she was about to tip backwards at the six month old. Lana meant it to be light, but Cullen's honey eyes burned pure worry into her. After checking the straps, he risked a quick kiss on her lips.
Bending forward, he whispered barely a breath above the wind, "Stay safe. Both of you."
"If you're done," Reiss hissed. She barely waited for their leave before heading into the cave. Lana glanced up at the sky, the sun on its arc down to the horizon. Squaring off against Morrigan in a potential battle
to the death...why did she suddenly fear this may be the last sunset she ever saw?
The cave stopped being that about fifteen feet in. A collapse of stalactites broke through into the deep roads below. That got a groan from the two grey wardens, both of them sharing a glare before Alistair and Reiss hopped down. Cullen assisted Lana, her cane hobbling against the ramp made of broken stone. Getting back up that thing was going to be an even bigger nightmare.
"This looks annoyingly familiar," Alistair said, his lips pursed in a whistle.
"You think we're near Cadash Thaig?" Lana asked, already well aware of his thoughts, "But that's further north. This is a section of the roads that diverged deeper towards...it doesn't matter." It looked much the same, grooves beside the walls properly lit up by lava light. The stone itself was a bit darker than the stuff up north, an aspect Lana caught on to to help navigate these things.
"All I care about is if there are any darkspawn around?" Reiss hissed.
Lana tipped her head to the side, the taint whispering no more than it usually did when she entered the deep. "No, nothing near here. Which makes me think that Morrigan is truly here." She shared a glance with Ali, both of them knowing that keeping the deep roads purged of darkspawn was no easy feat.
All Reiss heard was that her enemy was near. Squeezing her hand hard enough against the leather grip it squeaked, she growled out, "Good."
They didn't run into traps until midway down the roads, the blockage offering up only one proper route. Lana lashed her hand out to grab onto Reiss' arm and held her steady. "Ice wards," she hissed.
"I have this," Cullen stepped forward. He tipped his head down and a wave of dispelling erupted from his body. It caused a twinge of nausea to knot up Lana's stomach while the other two seemed unaffected. "One down," he said, no sense of bragging in his speech.
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