Placing down her knife, Lana turned from her plate of greens to catch her husband sliding into the kitchen. Cullen wiped the back of his hand off against his forehead and smiled, "Hello, love." Leaning towards her, he pecked a quick kiss to her cheek, a flush rising through Lana's body that had little to do with the fire.
After scooping up a chunk of bread, Cullen eased one leg over the bench and sat staring at the profile of his wife. "I'm surprised to see you here alone," he mused, chewing into what was most likely his afternoon meal. He'd been working himself to the bone trying to get the abbey back to life post spring thaw. It didn't pass Lana's notice that he was also taking up her slack.
Pawing back the hair that escaped out of her knot, she sighed, "Leliana had some minor business to conduct in private in her room."
"Minor?" Cullen mouthed. "How many countries will the Exalted March be tearing through?"
She chuckled at his summation, the old friend that Lana knew always with her fingers on the pulse of terrifying matters, and no doubt her blade guiding many more. It was overwhelming to think upon, and she'd finished off a blight.
Cullen ripped off a piece of the bread, about to put it to his lips, when suddenly he paused and off the cuff said, "What do you think of Tabitha?"
Blinking madly, Lana tried to think through the stacks of letters she'd been poring over. She was going to have to train someone in potions before she grew too fat to reach over the counter. The college of magi wasn't ecstatic about sending anyone to a templar refuge, which left her sifting through various hamlet brewers that could probably be trained and if they were well watched.
"I'm not sure who that is," Lana admitted, fearing that she'd grown too aloof to remember the names of all their staff.
"No," Cullen smiled, "as a name." He drew his hand gently down her arm until cupping her fingers. "For the baby."
A bright smile broke upon her cheeks, Lana turning in her seat to stare deep into his eyes. He was clearly trying to play the taciturn Commander, stoic to all, but there was an impishness darting his cheeks into an easy smile. While Lana bandied back and forth between trepidation and outright fear, she had no idea how Cullen would deal with all of this. He had been both helpful and also distant, as if he was trying to assist in a matter beyond his job. There'd be the hand caressing against her back as she battled another round of morning, afternoon, and occasional evening sickness. He'd been the one to collect and carry a good dozen and a half books Lana on some wild whim ordered from the four corners of thedas. He did it all without offering up a complaint, but also never a note of joy, or excitement. She feared she'd pulled him into a mess he didn't wish for.
And now...
Curling her palm to his scruffy cheek, she smiled, "It's not bad as far as names go, though there's a good chance everyone would call her Tabby."
He sneered at that, Cullen doing his own part to battle against hated nicknames. "I hadn't considered that. Hm..." Those amber eyes darted downward in thought, but nothing could dampen the smile flirting with his lips. "Elena? I always liked that one."
Forgoing the distance, Lana slid across the bench into his straddling lap. At first he blinked, his eyes wandering over to the chef who was too enraptured with her book to care. Then, as no one seemed to appear out of the walls to chastise them, he cuddled one arm around her shoulders. Slowly, the other hand crept against her bulging stomach. He seemed in awe for a moment, his lips hanging slack while watching his fingers slide back and forth over the reminder Lana was quickly filling with a baby.
She drew her fingers over the back of his, pressing him tighter to her and what they created. Lost in her, Cullen placed his lips to her forehead in a soft pucker.
"Why only girl names?" Lana asked, shaking off the urge to slumber in his arms. It was barely past midday and work yet remained. Twisting her head back to stare into his eyes, she continued, "There's a good chance it could be a boy."
"Perhaps," he mused, the scruff of his chin scratching against her forehead as they pressed tighter together, "but I'd rather have a girl. The world needs more of you." A glimmer reflected in his eyes, which he was quick to blink away before focusing down upon her.
Lana scooped her hand along his cheek and sighed, "You're rather amazing too. A little version of you strutting around ordering armies of tin soldiers to march would be adorable."
A soft chuckle reverberated up through his glistening throat, her husband sighing. "You say that now, but the next time I am in one of my 'head butting moods...'"
"I still find them adorable, infuriating, but adorable," she admitted.
"That's good to know," Cullen whispered in his gravelly come hither voice. Curling her chin back, he placed a kiss sweeter than the meadow grass to her lips. Lana's hands pulled him tighter, her ever expanding breasts pressing against his chest. Her fingers trailed through his tight curls, softly tugging them back. The move caused Cullen to break away, a roll to his eye, but a pant in his breath. "That seems unwise," he chuckled, well aware of her signature plays to get him into bed.
Lana shrugged, "It's not as if I can become more pregnant."
"Maker's breath, I pray not," he gasped. "You'd eat us out of house and home."
"Arse," she chuckled, playfully slugging him in the shoulder but sliding back to give them breathing room. He was right. There was the Divine herself less than a few doors away. Refusing a meeting with her most Holy because you're too busy being carnal seemed like a most certain way to send yourself to the void.
Cullen drew a finger down her jaw, his eyes misty, "I love you."
"I know. I love you too," she smiled at him. There was so much in their future left up in the air, but knowing he was by her side made it feel survivable. Lana stared down at her half eaten pile of 'wholesome vegetables all expectant mothers must consume once a week.' She hated them with a passion, but her husband was reading the same books as she and he could cling to the advice with a death grip.
"I suppose I should finish this off," Lana groaned, stirring the mess. Maybe if she added some bacon grease. That might help to force it down.
He patted her thigh and then swung up off the bench. "And I have a roof to get to. Oh, I was weighing various cradle designs. Did you have your heart set on anything in particular?"
A cradle for their baby. Somewhere to let him or her sleep for the night. Such a little thing, one of many that they'd need to prepare, but the very fact he'd thought of it, began preparations without her asking, struck deep to Lana's heart. Grateful tears burst from her eyes. Cullen paused a moment looking stricken, then he spotted the smile on her lips. Gently, he wicked each up with his fingers, growing used to her emotions spinning on a copper.
"I have no idea," Lana blubbered.
"Well, you'll have some time to think on it. It's my first attempt so I'll probably need a few re-starts," he whispered, placing a goodbye kiss to her lips. Snagging a second hunk of bread off the tray, her husband slid to the door.
"Cullen," she called, turning to him. Those beautiful amber eyes smiled at her. "Are you happy about all of this?"
"Yes," he nodded, fingers cupping the bread to his stomach. "What about you?"
Lana smiled, "I am."
CHAPTER SIX
The Queen's Deal
19 weeks...
Reiss stared out the palatial windows alone. She'd been attending a meeting of all the guard captains across Denerim, a meeting it took her nearly a year to squeeze into. It was a way for her group to catch up on the latest buzz drifting through the streets, see where the murders were stacking up, and if any remarkable brigands had stepped through the city gates. At first the City Watch tolerated her existing, but as the Solvers kept butting noses into the Watch's fumbling business it was either let her in or keep being one step behind. None of them wanted to fess up to the King that it was the unofficial band of near-on vigilantes that kept solving all the crime in Denerim.
The rest had adjourned for the day, not much being decided, but enough informa
tion passed to keep her busy for a few weeks. With the summer heat bearing down across Ferelden, the city was quiet. Most crimes were committed in cool cellars or near the frost zones mages in the city established. It made them easy to catch as the watch were all sitting there too.
She tipped back her hat to watch a familiar flash of crimson as the royal guards marched through the palace gates. Either the King was returning or they were growing bored in the guardroom and all went on a walk together. Funny how that could have nearly been her life.
Sweat dribbled down Reiss' shoulder blades, the heat finding its way through the cold stones of the palace. Taking a quick glance behind her to make certain none of the gossiping watch remained, Reiss began to slither out of her coat. Wearing it to the meetings by the height of summer made some sense. It was her signature outfit, to the point most people talked to it and not the elf inside. But it also happened to be billowy enough to camouflage the protrusion that had once been her flat stomach.
Straight on, no one could tell. Even Reiss had troubles spotting a difference, but if she turned to the side... She'd been spending a lot of time carrying boxes and bags once this thing popped out to say hello. It was foolish. She was going to have to tell them all eventually and probably not while the kid's head was crowning.
But that was months away. Right now she was far more concerned with talk of a smuggling ring re-massing in the dwarven district. Surprising as they'd be butting up right next to the coaterie. Either they were working with the dwarves or she'd wind up having to protect the smugglers from a dozen battleaxes to the back. That was Denerim, things never stopped for a moment.
A flash of halberds wafting in the breeze caught her eye, and sure enough, the royal cavalcade trotted up the main gate. Perched upon a white and tan horse was the blonde head whipping back and forth as he kept waving to the few guards who were doing their best to not respond.
"Oh Alistair," she whispered to herself, her hand absently curling over her stomach.
"So the rumors are true."
Reiss whipped around, quickly draping the coat over her stomach, but it was too late. Her skin paled at the woman in a fine silk dress standing beside the conference table. "My Queen," she said in deference before bowing. Unfortunately, that caused her stomach to bulge out even more, ruining her one deniability that Reiss simply had a large breakfast that day.
Beatrice tapped her fingers together against a pearl belt circling her stomach. Her very thin and empty stomach. "I'd heard whispers that the King's known lover was rounding with child, but had waved it off as simple gossip mongering."
Reiss rarely talked to the woman married to Alistair. There was the occasional sentence or two regarding how swell a day it was, or if her children had done anything adorable recently, but they kept it civil. It wasn't as if Beatrice didn't have her own bed warmer. But this was a different woman entirely. Where before she'd shown a cautious warmth, now it was ice cold, her thoughts on the burgeoning matter crystal clear. Those sharp eyes cut like emeralds as the Queen glared at her subject that was also growing with a royal child.
"I..." Reiss glanced around as if somehow rescue would arrive. Alistair knew she'd be waiting for him, but he couldn't have anticipated that his wife would swoop in like this. He'd often describe the Queen as an overcooked pile of noodles rolled up in a wet blanket. Maker, he was lucky he'd never had to suffer this frozen anger before.
"Speak up," Beatrice commanded, her soft chin jutting out like the monarch she was.
"I thought you'd already been informed by Ali...by his Majesty," Reiss stuttered. A fresh kind of sweat percolated off her forehead, freezing her tongue.
"I see," Beatrice folded her arms tighter. On the plus side, at least she didn't suddenly draw a dagger and stab at Reiss' stomach. Maker, could she disarm a Queen without being tried for treason? "He has had many mistresses over the years." If that was meant to hurt Reiss, it missed the mark. She was regularly writing to his first love, after all. "And none of them ever fell into the family way."
Reiss blinked madly, trying to find any way out of this. Throwing her coat over the Queen's head and making a break for the door seemed the most logical choice at this point. Perhaps screaming something incoherent, dashing out the window, and climbing towards the roof?
"It is a curious question, so many years, so many...others, and it is your womb that finally takes," Beatrice snarled. She wasn't even pretending at the lie that the princess and prince were of the King's blood. She knew Reiss knew the truth. Alistair was sterile -- at least for a time -- as far as she was aware, and now...
The Queen stared down at Reiss with the same disgusted eye she'd felt in the refugee camps. Kirkwall guards and templars often scanned the area for hiding apostates or criminals, never caring there were real people suffering. They were just looking for their piece of flesh. Something snapped inside Reiss, and the animal backed into a corner hissed, "This child is the King's."
"You seem certain of that fact," Beatrice mocked.
Reiss gripped tighter to her stomach, and with a snarl to her lip said, "So is he."
That scattered the Queen. No doubt she'd been working up her plan to talk Reiss into admitting who she'd opened her legs to because it couldn't be the King. Not to get rid of the mistress, Beatrice cared nothing for that, but to secure her line of technical bastards. Reiss knew the truth as well, and how to strike back with it should the need arise.
"Hello, gorgeous," Alistair's sunny greeting whipped both women to him. He gulped at Beatrice's face and began to tug up his hair. "And, uh, you too, Bea. I see you were both having a little meet and greet alone... together?" He must have read the concern on Reiss' face as he dashed quickly into the room, bravely placing himself between them.
Beatrice's eyes slid over Reiss before she focused fully upon the King. "We were discussing the weather."
"It sure is hot out, but that's summer for you," Alistair quipped.
"Feels rather icy in here," Reiss muttered under her breath.
The Queen lifted her head, the elaborate headpiece of hers rattling the beaded pearls and jewels as she did. "If you will excuse me, I shall leave you to speak upon matters of the state." Reiss didn't breathe a sigh as the woman shifted to the door, she knew there was more coming. "Will you be visiting with your children later, my husband?"
There it was. Bea always called him 'My King' or 'Your Majesty.' She was grinding it into Reiss' face that as far as the chantry cared, the Queen and Alistair were married in the sight of the Maker. Of course the remark sailed straight over Alistair's head. He shrugged his shoulders and squinted his eyes, "Don't I always? Spud's finally gotten onto the good adventure books and Cailan's big into that duck taking a holiday. Boring, but not as disturbing as the 'Pat the Nug' one. Ugh, books shouldn't have skin in them."
Beatrice tipped her head in deference to him, but a smirk glittered in her eyes as if she'd won something. As far as Reiss knew, she'd never even agreed to the game much less lost. Though, she didn't take a proper breath or unlace her fists until the door closed behind the Queen. Alistair himself watched before turning to her.
"What in the Maker's name was that?"
"Nothing," Reiss spat out, needing to think and plan.
"Nothing?" he gasped, his hands clinging to her arms. "You look as if you're about to leap up off your heels and bite someone's throat out. Which, okay, is kinda hot, but not really the time or place."
She shook her head, snarling, "Why in the void did you not tell the Queen that I'm..." her voice died down to whisper the word, "pregnant?"
"Because she never asked?" Alistair threw out leaving Reiss to imagine biting his throat out. "Okay, that was a joke. I thought you didn't want to tell people."
"Yes, my people in my guardhouse. I don't need them fussing when they should be focused on the job right now. But this is different. For Andraste's sake, I've already told my brother and...sent a letter to my sister."
Reiss' raw anger faded at that, her eyes driftin
g down to the floor. Lorace took the news about as well as she expected. 'Ha, got yourself stuck up the pipe, eh?' It didn't sting seeing as how he'd done the same to his girlfriend, necessitating an overnight marriage lest her religious employers fire her on the spot. But Atisha, no one could bring the shame like her sister turned Sister, especially now that she was working in the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux. That was the hardest letter Reiss had to write.
Hands cupped up and down her arms, drawing her attention back to him. Alistair's eyes brimmed in sympathy, "Still haven't heard back from her?"
"Three weeks," Reiss sighed, "and nothing. I...knowing Atisha, she's probably lighting a candle every day for me and praying extra hard I'll cease my harlot ways." She meant to laugh at it, and normally would with Lunet, but after the Queen's daintily laced threats it stung harder.
"Reiss," he butted his forehead to hers, the heat of the ride passing through to hers, "it'll be okay. We are married."
She rolled her eyes at that. Married in the sense that they stood beside two other people and whispered their own made up vows. In the proper sense of documentation and the chantry being involved, that wedding was as illegitimate as the child swishing back and forth in her womb.
Alistair yanked off her hat, and she expected him to put it on his head, but he draped it onto the back of a chair and instead curled his hands through her messy hair. "I love you," he whispered.
"That doesn't fix everything," she grumbled back even while falling under his spell. How did he do that? Wrap his arms around her, make a few wisecracks and somehow it all felt better; convince her anything was possible.
Reiss' eyes darted down to her stomach. It was only going to get worse, the rumors growing to knowing nods and more. Closing her eyes, she said, "You have to tell the Queen."
"I, uh," he cupped his hands around under her stomach making the bulge even more pronounced, "I think she's figured it out."
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