My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  "Not that," she grabbed onto his hands but didn't bat them away. Reiss needed them wrapped around her back, she needed him to hold her tight. "Tell her that nothing's changed between you two and your deal."

  "Why would she even think that?" Alistair seemed lost.

  Gripping onto his stupid face, she tipped it down to her and sighed, "Maker's breath, sometimes you are so dense, but I love you anyway." Rising up, she kissed him with the ache that somedays seemed to engulf her entire being. They saw each other a bit more often now, Alistair wanting to be as involved as the one without an extra passenger squatting inside his body could be. But it wasn't enough for her.

  He moaned at her machinations, and Reiss was surprised to find her fingers tugging hard against his hair. This wasn't right, she was on duty and... Those impish brown eyes opened and every argument she had against performing what got her into this situation in the first place died. "Reiss?" he whispered, her set of rules somehow breaking through the rampaging lust between them.

  Shaking her head, she gripped onto his hand and whispered, "Take me upstairs."

  He glanced over at her coat and hat, both perched upon the chair, then nuzzled his face to her neck. "With pleasure," he cried, tugging her with him to their old bedroom.

  ***

  "I spotted another one," Alistair crowed. He wiggled fully out from under his half thrown blanket and slid to place his face tight to the side of her hip. Reiss followed along, bending over as far as she could to watch his fingers trace against her naked skin.

  "Wonderful," she muttered while he revealed a fresh set of stretch marks gaining ground along her hips. Over twenty something years they'd remained practically flat as a boy's, but she gets up the duff and suddenly they start thinking of putting on an expansion.

  Smoothly, Alistair's palms followed the swoops and swirls of her skin racing to keep up with her bulging body. He seemed to find it all fascinating, and she, for whatever reason, found his reaction charming. "Are you going to make a map of them?" she snickered, trying to tug him back up to her. The afternoon sun beat down through the window, crashing his room in a bright glare that they rarely managed when seeing each other in the all together.

  It was a bit disconcerting for Reiss, realizing her lover hadn't fully seen the changes to her body in a month. Then she tugged off the breast band, and all her trepidation vanished at the gobsmacked look to his cheeks. She hadn't had him play with her breasts so much since they first got together.

  Abandoning his quest to try and read the future out of her stretchmarks, Alistair climbed up to slot in beside her on the bed. She lay stretched out on her back, those fascinating hips aching if she was on her side too long. Absently, his palm curled up her stomach, swooping through the glistening skin before resuming to cup a swelling breasts.

  "I might have known," Reiss sighed, but snuggled her cheek to his neck.

  "Does it hurt?" he asked, his bright eyes shining as if he found a new toy.

  "No," she admitted, "it feels good. It's nice to have good things happening to this meat sack for once instead of terrifying horrors."

  His first two fingers knocked up against her nipple before threading it between the third. "I happen to find your meat sack enchanting," Alistair breathed. Leaning over her, he kissed her with a hunger they'd tried to quench earlier. The humming resumed in her throat, Reiss pinning his cheek in place while tasting the summer heat off his skin and hidden deep in his mouth.

  She shifted on the bed, crawling upwards to press her advantage on him, when a rumbling began in her stomach. Breaking contact, Reiss quickly placed her hand to her flesh and felt what she was expecting.

  "Reiss? Are you...?"

  "Here," she grabbed his fingers off her breast and placed them tight. "The baby's kicking."

  It took a few more beats, Alistair staring through space as if it would be difficult to feel them, when suddenly she felt a strong wallop from building muscles. "Whoa!" the King of Ferelden gasped at this common miracle. A giant grin stretched his lips and he placed his cheek against her stomach.

  "Hello in there. Are you trying to register a complaint because your mum and dad are keeping you up late?"

  Reiss fluffed his hair back and forth while watching him talk to her stomach as if the baby was not only an adult but could respond.

  "You should know normal people sleep during the night, unless they're very important or very bored. Or mabari. Then you can sleep whenever you want. How are the accommodations? Good, I imagine." Another kick answered him. "Needs improvement?" Alistair joked back. "Yup, that's Theirin blood in there."

  Laughing, he rolled his eyes to gaze right into Reiss. He looked serene with his face perched upon the growing stomach of an elven lover while their child walloped his cheek. "This one's got quite the temper it seems," she groaned at the internal tenderizing.

  "Can't imagine where it gets that from," Alistair rolled his eyes before pressing a kiss to her stomach. "Is this the first time you've felt it?"

  "No," she smiled, "the obvious kicking began a few days back." Reiss meant it light hearted, but a quietness fell over Alistair dampening down his smile.

  "A few days..." he repeated.

  "There'd been internal flutters before, but I couldn't feel them through my hand," she raced to explain.

  Slowly he sat up, but he kept a palm cupped to the baby still registering complaints the only way it could. "I should have probably brought this up earlier, but...I've been thinking that," Alistair flinched a moment, then stared down at his hand. "Maybe it would be in your best interest, in both of your best interests, if you spend the first year here in the palace."

  "What?" Reiss sat up fast, her stomach slipping away from his grasp. "You can't be serious. A month after the birth in the chance there's something...off, we agreed to, but this..." She bunched up her fist, wishing she wasn't fully naked for this conversation.

  "Reiss, everything goes so fast in that first year. The baby's first smile, first laugh, first time it says mama or daddy," his warm eyes watered as an age seemed to wrap around the man who'd been down this road twice before. "I don't want to miss out on so much of those firsts because you're both down in the city."

  She hadn't thought of that. For good or ill, Alistair was not an absentee father. He wanted to be there for all of it, loved sharing in the horror stories and changing the messy nappies. It gave him a strangely joyful purpose. But a year...

  "This goes against our arrangement," she said. They'd worked together because his life was in the palace and hers was her agency. She wasn't reliant upon him which meant every kiss was hers to give freely, no strings attached.

  Alistair scoffed and waved a hand through the room, "Haven't we already broken that? You're here on duty, but you wanted to come to my room. Were whispering incredibly naughty things in my ear to drive me mad on the walk up."

  "It was a momentary..." she stuttered, stung at how right he was. They'd been getting sloppier about it, their lives commingling more with each passing year. Sometimes her ache won out over her conscience. "I can't leave my business for a year."

  "You wouldn't be leaving them," Alistair sighed, having had the time to put in more thought and counter all her arguments. "You'd just be staying here, in the castle. Maker's sake, babies are a ton of work."

  "I know that! I've read some of the books you gave me," Reiss said. "I have a plan."

  "Reiss," he cupped his palm to her flushed cheek, "it's not weak to need help, not with this. Crying at all hours, feedings like mad, you'll be exhausted. You'll need breaks. Breaks which I and the various staff and others here can help with. Even washing filthy nappies is a continual drudge. Do you really think Lunet will try and deal with a colicky baby at 3 in the morning?"

  "She'd probably try putting it in a pot and sending it down the river first," Reiss admitted to herself. She should be fighting his argument at every turn, but she had nothing in her arsenal. There was only the clinging fear that she had to fight or lose somethi
ng of herself.

  "Just...think about it, okay. I want to see my child, I want to see you every chance I can. Being up here will make it easier for all of that, for you, for the baby to get to know its siblings."

  Reiss' eyes darted up at him with that, shock in her face. "You're going to let our child be a part of the princess' and prince's lives?"

  "Of course," he chuckled, "they're all my children. Okay, ignoring the technical bit at play here."

  "I'd..." For some reason she assumed that their child would be kept a secret. Not a very good one, but certainly never allowed proper time with anyone important in court. That it'd be a whisper trailing its pram down the street as the King's bastard and nothing more. Spending time with the other children was important, and she didn't have the backing of an alienage looking out for its own behind her.

  "What happens after the year is up?" Reiss asked, needing conformation.

  Alistair snickered, "So that's a yes?"

  "It's an I need more information," she said tight lipped.

  "We'll see what you want, what the baby wants. And it's not as if you can't check in on the agency and keep running things. Denerim's not about to close its gates to you. It's just you'd be sleeping here with me close by. With help ready to take over if you need it."

  Maker take her, but that idea did sound wonderful. To not have to wake early, cram breakfast in, and beat feet down the back alleys to beat the morning muggings. Nor to tousle him out of her tiny bed when she knew there were dignitaries waiting for him at the palace. Alistair was the worst riser she'd ever met.

  "Reiss?" he pried, his arms wrapping around her shoulders and tugging her into a side hug.

  "I will," she gave into the cuddle, his lips pressing against her neck, "consider it."

  "That's all I ask," Alistair said. "Now, how about I connect your birthmarks into a constellation and have the astronomers make it official?" He giggled at his idea, already parting his fingers down her back to find a favorite mole before walking them forward around her hip.

  She watched with peace in her soul as the man she loved snuggled and worshiped her body. It would make him happy if they were both under his roof, and blessed Andraste, it would make her happy to watch him with his child. What was a year?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Securing the Line

  Fingers wrapped tighter around his neck, causing Alistair to drop his daughter's hand and reach back around to catch Cailan before he either hit the ground or strangled his father. Spud spun on her glittery pink heels to glare at him breaking contact. A fist plowed into her hip, a move she'd been picking up from somewhere, as she waggled a finger at him.

  "Daddy, you have to hold on," the six year old chastised like a hardened advisor to a wayward King.

  "I know, Spudkins," he said, "but your little toad of a brother is about to kill me." A giggle erupted behind his ear, the toad happy to be included in this story.

  "No, Daddy! The griffins will. Hold my hand!" she was adamant he return to her protection. At one point Spud had a wooden sword to guard her father from the dreaded griffin attacks sweeping the pony meadow, but then she tried to hit her brother with it and that was the end of that. Alistair put a pin in getting her sword lessons and fast. Bea was against it, as were a dozen others who felt the future Queen shouldn't be waving metal around, but either his daughter would learn proper sword technique and rules or she'd wind up smacking out someone's teeth on accident.

  "Daddy, daddy," she insisted, tugging on his shirt.

  "Okay," he picked up her tiny hand in his. Spud was quick to wrap her fingers around his thumb, finding the ring fascinating. She wanted to wear it because her father said she couldn't take it off him. It wasn't anything special, he merely feared she'd put it down and then it'd go right into Cailan's mouth. The kid was worse than a mabari when it came to things going in his mouth. Of course, telling her no only drew Spud's curiosity stronger. Maker save whoever had to tell their future Queen something she couldn't do.

  With her wayward father finally secure, Spud swiped back her long curls with her free hand and glared around the hallway as if monsters were really lurking down it. "What do you see?" Alistair asked, peering down at his daughter. Those bright emerald eyes were honed to a scary focus for her age. Cailan, unaware of the lurking danger in his own home, giggled and bounced up and down on his father's back.

  "There's big ones here," Spud whispered, her voice drawn to an edge and nearly dampening out the small lisp she had.

  Alistair whipped his head around as if he was trying to spot them. "Griffins? Where?"

  "Not griffins," she turned to him in exasperation at the obvious, looking eerily like Eamon when he had to explain politics. "Dar'spawn. Don't worry, Daddy. I'll protect you." Waving her hand as if there was still a sword in it, Spud stabbed at the imaginary darkspawn hiding in the hallway. Mid-invisible mutilation, a servant prodded her head out of a door catching the three of them in peril. Alistair smiled and waved her away. He was fairly certain he'd survive this attack unscathed, unless Spud was back to her dying stage again. Then only the tears of a unicorn could save them.

  "Ooh, ah, good one," she kept up a fairly accurate simulacrum of fight dialogue, though Alistair remembered a lot more cursing and some 'uh, is that one dead yet?' during real combat. Spud was fully into her role, her eyes glinting, when she threw back her head and cried, "For the Gwey Wawdens!"

  It was so unexpected Alistair forgot to be charmed by the adorableness as she jabbed her make believe sword into some invisible enemy. Spud cackled in delight as Alistair asked, "Did you kill it?"

  "I did. I'm a twue Gwey Wawden," she asserted before miming returning her sword back into its scabbard.

  "Oh no," Alistair glanced up at the ceiling. Spud followed suit as Cailan continued to crawl higher, his fingers reaching to snatch up the sewn on knots around Alistair's biceps. Before the kid could try and pull them free, Alistair snapped up and shouted, "The griffins are returning!"

  He began to slowly run down the hallway dragging Spud with. She got into it, her eyes trailing around the ceiling as she mimed slipping back a helmet's guard to watch. "Oh no!" she repeated before following him headlong through the door and straight into their nursery. Tucking down, Alistair belly flopped onto the cushioned rug, dragging his little girl with.

  Maker it felt good to be stationary, which lasted all of two seconds before Cailan began to scramble off of him. "I Grey Ward," he insisted, reaching for one of a dozen stuffed animals scattered around the room. Alistair felt Spud begin to rise up from their fall, indignant at Cailan once again trying to hustle in on her territory, but he was ready for it. Lashing over with a hand, he pulled Spud in tight and trapped her below him.

  "Daddy!" she squealed when the tickling began.

  "What was that?" he asked before tickling her harder. On his knees, Spud could easily slide out from under his pathetic cage but she kept rolling back and forth on her back.

  "Da-a-ddy," she tried again, before breaking into more laughs.

  "Still not getting that," he said. Tiny hands plopped onto the back of his head and he glanced up to find Cailan patting his skull as he tried to get into the game. Snorting, Alistair butted his head against the kid's stomach eliciting boyish giggles.

  Spud must have sensed them as she sat stock still and ordered, "No. This is vewy serious."

  Sighing, Alistair flipped over to his side to let her out. "Everything with you is very serious. You're gonna get an ulcer from how serious you are," he said prodding at her belly. She laughed a moment at his silly words, then folded her arms in a tight cross, the pout rising.

  "Spuddy," he warned even while scooping Cailan into his lap.

  She looked like she wanted to order her brother out of the room. If it was up to her, she'd probably stick him on a ship to Tevinter, but she knew whining would only get her put in the naughty chair. Her eyes glanced over to the dreaded lime green thing in the corner, and she dropped her chin. "I want to draw," she a
nnounced, turning away towards the desk stuffed with quills, vellum, and what had once been important memos for the King. If there were any classified state secrets they were long obliterated by child scribbling.

  Alistair wrapped his arms around Cailan while the boy fiddled with a wooden puzzle box in his lap. "What are you going to draw?" he asked.

  "It's a secret," Spud held up a finger to her mouth and then blew hard enough spit splattered against her father's cheek.

  "Thanks, Spuddy," he groaned, wiping it off. Unaware of causing any offense, she returned to the monumental task of uncorking the ink bottle. They'd devised a sort of trough to try and catch most of the runoff from a princess who was very into drawing and less into cleanliness. If she weren't destined to be Queen, he'd have put good odds at his daughter becoming a painter...who killed darkspawn on the side.

  Sounds of footsteps drew Spud's attention, splattering ink into the trough. "Mummy!" she squealed, her plan fully abandoned as she raced to throw her arms around Bea. The Queen dipped an arm down to cuddle Spud to her legs. Wanting to see his mother as well, Cailan squirmed out of Alistair's lap. For her boy, Beatrice fell to her knees, wrapping both of her children in hugs and kisses to their cheeks.

  "Have you been good today?"

  "Yes 'em!" Spud shouted while Cailan nodded his head vehemently. Still, the knowing mother turned to look over at the only adult in the room.

  "They were," Alistair said. "We had a minor meltdown as what happens when it's nearly noon and starvation sets in. But I'd say you were both on your second best behavior."

  Beatrice's eyes stared through him, nary a word slipping from her lips but volumes hung in the look. Self consciously Alistair tugged up his hair and stared at the border along the nursery's walls. Her voice slipped down to honey sweet as she looked at her children, "Why don't you two play quietly in here? Your father and I have matters to discuss."