"What is this boy to you?" Cullen's voice broke through the hazy plan.
Alistair sat upright at it and began to tug upon his hair. "It...um, so I'm guessing Lanny didn't explain all of that mess."
The Commander's promise of help felt like a dream from the cold wrath radiating in his eyes. "No, she did not."
"Maybe it would be best to ask her."
He stared at Alistair then swung his eyes over to Reiss, "You know. He told you, thought you were worthy enough of the information."
"That's kinda of...well," Reiss tried to dance back from the accusations. Sometime while he was recovering from his gut wound, Alistair got it in his head to confess everything to her. Everything. He covered the King stuff, the few mistresses he'd sometimes run into in his day to day life, then leapt back into the Grey Warden days. Most of it was well known, battles that people still spoke of nearly two decades later. But when he told Reiss of the deal struck between his first love and a witch, she could scarcely believe it was real.
"It's," Alistair rocked his head back and forth on his neck before sighing, "complicated. Really, really complicated..." His tone dropped off and he turned to gaze back through the doorway where they left the witch, the hero, and the son. Was he feeling sorrow for this child that was made out of necessity? Oh Maker, no. Please, no. That would only mess up everything they were scrabbling for if Alistair turned to the witch's side.
"Look," Alistair honed in on Cullen, "that kid...man. Maker, I'm old. To have an eighteen year old... If it weren't for him existing, Lanny wouldn't be alive. That's all I'll say about it because we're still under watchful eyes."
The Commander did not look pleased with that, but he gritted his teeth and nodded. Sliding back, he watched his son try to stuff his fingers into his boots. Myra began to babble again, her head tipping as she turned on her seat and reached both hands to Alistair.
He chuckled at her, "What's that? You want to go for a little walk? Okay." Staggering up to his feet, he picked up both of Myra's hands and extended her upward until she too stood upon her teetering toes. Their baby giggled, a foot nudging forward to try and propel her onward, while Alistair guided her.
That drew the Commander's attention, "Your baby is already walking?"
"Walking with serious help," Reiss smiled.
"This is more staggering around like a drunk while your friends have you propped up under your armpits, but Wheaty loves it." To elucidate this fact, she began to giggle more, moving her father further along the blanket and towards the forbidden zone. Of course, Alistair let her take charge.
"Try it with Gavin," Reiss encouraged to the uncertain man.
"I've never, I admit I don't have much experience with children..." Cullen wafted back and forth.
Alistair twisted around, his back hunched while hoisting up a baby, "Ha, you think that stops me? Prod this, tickle that, naughty corner in over time, total tantrum in the middle of court. Parenting is a guaranteed failure, you can only control how hard the landing is."
The Commander seemed less than convinced, but he began to stagger to his feet. "What do I do?"
"Pick up your baby by the middle and..." Reiss began, when Alistair returned with Myra.
"Here, you take her. She's a pro at driving me around," he heaved Myra's hands into Cullen's the pair of them blinking in surprise at this new person before, sure enough, baby feet went stomping away.
With a care, Alistair hoisted Gavin up until he stood on his little legs. The King had a tight grip to the kid's chubby tummy, letting him get used to the idea of being fully vertical. "Sometimes it takes awhile for them to get the hang of keeping their feet on the ground. That one seems to only love being upright. I swear she sleeps sitting up," he laughed jerking his head to Myra.
Unaware of being any different, their baby had walked Cullen all the way to the edge of the blanket, her mouth babbling to him about all the sights they were seeing. "Seems she's already made a friend," Reiss encouraged. That was Myra, even people who swore they hated babies with a fiery passion would come under her sway. She wasn't much of a cryer unless people were yelling, and was so full of laughter Reiss often caught her sleeping with a smile on her face. Her baby, that could have been lost.
"Forgive the intrusion," Lady Amell stood at the doorway, her hands wrapped around the cane as she watched. "Oh my stars, is Gavin standing?" At that she limped quickly towards them, taking it easier on the stairs down even while her eyes were focused on the baby. He lit up bright at the appearance of his mother, wiggling up and down on those extended legs as if doing a dance for her.
"We're having a go at baby racing," Alistair chuckled, then he jerked his head towards Cullen who was trying to steer Myra back towards them.
Lana smiled at the picture, then remarked, "She's adorable. And so much like her father. Look at that smile."
"Don't I know it," Reiss sighed. "And your boy..."
"Spitting image of his father, I know. Believe me, I hear that near on every day," she inched herself lower to sit upon the stairs, placing the cane that blew apart skeletons over her lap. For a moment she stared in rapture at her husband guiding Myra around, then back to her own boy waving a foot back and forth uncertain what to do with it. "I am sorry that this is how we had to meet."
At that the facade cracked. They'd been trying to pretend everything was fine, this was a momentary setback while the two kids played together. But there was no knowing what was going to happen, nor when. For all Reiss knew she may wind up spending her entire life inside this cave all at the whim of a witch. It had the makings of a terrible fairy tale.
"Is there really a curse upon Myra?" Reiss asked, her voice drained of all emotion. If she stopped to think about it for even a moment she grew more and more likely to run into the grand hall and slit the witch's throat.
Lana tipped her head down and sighed, "Yes. I...already checked to see if Morrigan was telling the truth."
"Can you get rid of it?" Reiss asked, before turning to the two men, "Can either of you dispel it? That's what you do? Did do, right?"
There was a momentary look shared between Cullen and Alistair before they glanced down at the baby. Myra was happy to have the attention unaware of the ticking clock inside her. No one should have to face that, death at the whims of a mage just because she shared the same blood as her father. "Well?" Reiss shot up, anger snorting in her nose.
"Reiss..." Alistair reached over to try and comfort her when Lana spoke up.
"They cannot remove it, but I could..."
"Then why don't you?" she stomped towards the woman who seemed to use her magic at random times to suit her.
Lana glanced over at her husband who'd stopped marching the baby around. "Because," she shuddered in a breath, "it would require blood magic."
"No," Cullen thundered, absently yanking Myra off the ground to step closer. At that she cried, not happy about her feet leaving the field. He grimaced at the move and put her back down, but kept staring at his wife, "that is not an option. You will not..."
"Honey eyes," Lana breathed, "I have no intentions to make a deal with a demon."
So that was it. Save her daughter and she'd lose herself to possession or a demon's attentions. At this point, their only hope rested in her healing someone who seemed near death. "Tell me the truth, then," Reiss folded her fingers tight into a ball, bracing for what she feared was coming, "can you heal this boy?"
"I..." she bit into her bottom lip almost hard enough it cracked, "I don't know. This is unlike any illness I've ever seen. It's as if his body is fine, healthy, but the mind has vanished. I need books, it's why I came to find you. Alistair, I assume you can send your guards to retrieve a few things for me?"
"Ah, I completely forgot about those guys. I should probably go and tell them to not charge at the witch unless they want to be part of the stew for tonight," he glanced around, prepared to do as asked, but Gavin seemed to be happiest up on his newly discovered feet.
Reiss walked over
to scoop her daughter up into her arms, leaving Cullen to hold his own baby. That caused Gavin to tip his head back and stare amber eyes up at his father. He seemed enthralled with the man, about as much as Myra was with her father. There were plenty of long nights when Reiss would find Alistair passed out on the floor and Myra attempting to put things in his snoring mouth. And that comatose boy in there never knew his, may not even have been told who his father really was.
Why did this have to be so complicated?
With the baby well in hand, Cullen began to walk Gavin towards his mother. Lana inched further to the ground, clapping her hands to encourage her son closer. They were all smiles, but they were trapped here same as Reiss and Alistair. If she hadn't offered herself to the witch, then...
Reiss snuggled Myra closer to herself, the baby's warmth and her hands tugging on her mother's hair reminding her she was alive. They had a fighting chance, and that was all Reiss ever needed. "I'm going to go try and find somewhere to take a nap," she said to the happy couple.
"If I have any news I'll find you," Lana promised. She scooted forward enough she'd wrapped one hand around Cullen's cheek and the other to Gavin. The baby found his mother's palm hilarious, turning his mouth into it and blowing a giant bubble. "Thank you, sweetheart," Lana laughed, "I could use a good cleansing right about now."
Snuggling her baby close, Reiss tugged her away from the fun people. Myra gave up a bit of a fuss, she hated missing out on the party, but exhaustion was setting in quick. A few more cranky cries erupted before the baby grew a good ten pounds in her arms thanks to sleep. Tuckered out, but very much alive, Myra twisted closer to Reiss' chest. She passed into the grand room and spotted the witch no longer in prayer beside her son but standing near a shelf full of bottles.
Her cruel eyes darted away from whatever poison she was concocting to stare daggers at Reiss. Stole her baby from her arms, threatened to bleed Myra dry to save her own child, and she couldn't even bother to say a 'sorry.' She should leave it alone, not even go near the witch, not with Myra around.
Turning on her heel, Reiss marched over to Morrigan. That caught the witch's attention and she staggered away from the bottles. Reiss wasn't trained in much magic, but she could taste the lightning bite of it rising in the air. No doubt the witch was preparing herself.
"You are to never touch my daughter, ever again," Reiss threatened.
"Making demands so soon? I suppose I should not be surprised. That's what's in the blood of most city guards," Morrigan wiped at the feathers on her shoulder, the same way she did when she stole Myra away. "Brawn before brains."
A red haze erupted behind Reiss' eyes. Leaning closer to the witch, she snarled, "Make no mistake. Before this is done, I will kill you."
The witch laughed, her head thrown back in cold amusement, "So many people have already tried."
A dagger split the wood of the shelf right beside Morrigan's head. She held still, doing her best to look unimpressed at the vibrating hilt while Reiss sneered, "I'll be the last."
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
Weakness
Alistair accepted the bundle under his arms, the pile of clean everything much appreciated. "Do I want to know where you managed to get a bunch of baby clothes and nappies out in the woods?" he asked, glancing over at the two guards who remained to try and do their King's bidding.
The first looked over at the second and scrunched his nose up, "Not really, Sire."
"That's what I figured. Well, if you stole them from a nasty witch perhaps she'll come here and fight our nasty witch thereby solving the problem." For two days they'd sat waiting inside the cave, Alistair on occasion stepping out to check in with his guys and send missives. It was his only time away from Reiss as he feared if he was gone too long she might haul off and gut Morrigan on her own.
"Your Majesty," the other guard stepped forward. They'd at least gotten smart enough to shrug off their heavy armor, the day far too hot for it. "How long do you think we shall need to linger here?"
He glanced up at the sky, gritting his teeth for when the ravens would return. No one back at home was going to be happy with his decision and...he hated having to disappoint two of them. "No idea, I'm afraid. Do what you usually do. Guard those trees and make sure that fennec over there isn't gonna sneak in and try to assassinate me."
Both guards glared at the white fox, its long ears twitching from the attention, before the animal scattered back into the forest. Tipping his head to them, Alistair returned into the deep. He found the templar prodding at a deer carcass Cullen killed, skinned, dressed, then began to cook. A small trail of blood lingered down the deep roads where he dragged the dead thing -- its bones and skin tossed to the side to be dealt with later.
"Good news," Alistair cried, "we have clean diapers!"
"Thank the Maker," Reiss staggered up, her arms crowded with two babies who were in the middle of a rousing game of slap hands. "How many did you get? Please tell me..."
"Two," Alistair admitted, "and what looks like a shirt that'll fit a toddler, a newborn sized dress and three socks. They did what they could, not a lot of babies hide caches in the woods for some reason."
Reiss sneered at the puny offering, but handed over the Rutherford baby to him. "Well," Alistair shuffled his hands away from a diaper practically dragging to the ground, "someone's a celebrated pooper." Those dissecting eyes stared up at the strange man who'd been tending to him on occasion. In general, Alistair and Reiss kept to Myra while Cullen took on Gavin, but with Lana so busy doing her best to free them all the work got passed around a bit.
Laying Gavin down on what could have been some holy dwarven altar, or a bench outside their brothel -- it was hard to say -- he began the horrifying task of cleaning up a baby long past his changing time. "Oh Maker's blighted hell," Alistair groaned, leaning back to get an attempt at fresh air. Even the sent of tainted death was better than what resided inside that cloth. "What are they feeding you, kid?"
"Same thing as Myra," Reiss gasped, quicker on the change than he was. "Yes, of course you find that absolutely hilarious. Our daughter thinks poop is funny. You know that's all your doing."
Alistair shrugged, "Probably." Smiling at his little girl, he returned to the task at hand, quickly changing one filthy load for a slightly cleaner one. Both soiled drawers wound up on the ground, the parents staring at it in horror. "Wanna duel to determine who has to clean it up?"
"I'll get it," Cullen spoke up from his makeshift spit. "When this is finished." He'd been doing his best at playing the model parent, cleaning up without being asked, staying up for hours with a crying baby all while his wife was head bent down over her work.
It would be enough to make Alistair jealous if he wasn't neck deep in a thousand other more pertinent emotions, a good half of them that involved murdering Morrigan. Whenever Lanny found her cure and the...boy woke, it was going to be an interesting stand off. After this, knowing the threat she could pose still to his Wheaty, it seemed unlikely Alistair would ever let her go. He couldn't. It just... Shit, who was he kidding? Even if he did, Reiss wouldn't. After the things she'd survived over the years, devoting her life to destroying the witch that stole her daughter was a minor stop.
Gavin shifted from cautious cooing to tears. It was slow at first, Alistair trying to pick him up higher to get his attention. But even the dancing light of fire couldn't distract as the baby tossed his head back to wail. "Oh, shh..." Alistair tried to dance with him, insisting it wasn't that bad. Sure they were trapped in the evil lair of a cruel and greedy witch but...at least they weren't all being fattened up to be eaten. Bright side and all.
Unfortunately, much like a dog's howl, one baby crying set off the other. Wheaty's eyes ran over with giant tears, her lips trembling as she tried to match Gavin's screams with her own. She could be powerful when she wanted something, but this was different. More like she was upset he was upset and didn't get why. "Myra, shush," Reiss turned her away from Alistair and Gavin still in full on r
oar. "You're okay."
The crying drew the attention of the witch who hadn't spoken to anyone save Lanny for the past two days. Morrigan eyed up the baby she'd nearly murdered and she gritted her teeth. Reiss snarled back, tucking Myra closer, "Mama will make sure you're okay."
"Here," Cullen rose up from their dinner. He didn't even bother to wipe the sweat, ash, or deer blood off as he reached for his wailing boy. Happy to pass him off, Alistair watched as the always cautious man tucked Gavin up to his eyes. The tears halted a moment at the father staring at him, but it wasn't what he really wanted.
"I've got to give it to that one, he's got himself a pair of lungs," Alistair moaned, attempting to drown out the noise by covering his ears. It didn't really help.
The templar glared, then tucked the baby onto his lap as they both plopped onto the floor. "What's the matter? You can't be hungry. Is it too much smoke?" He kept throwing out ideas, his voice cracking the longer the list grew while his son wouldn't stop screeching."Is it your mother? Do you...do you miss her?" Cullen's voice whispered.
It was almost heartbreaking to watch, the man trying to reason with an upset baby. Alistair turned away, feeling the sting of knowing this was all somehow his fault. He caught Reiss' eye and she too looked perturbed, both uncertain what to do to help. No one else was a mage with Lana's skills, no one else had access to magics and knowledge beyond the veil, and no one else cared enough to assist Morrigan. But no one else could be Gavin's mother either.
Stepping closer, Reiss passed Myra into Alistair's hands. She bent down on her knees to get right into the wailing baby's face. Gavin wouldn't stop for anything, right until she put her finger in his mouth and seemed to be feeling around. "Ah," she crowed, "as I suspected. He's cutting a tooth."
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