My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  "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 TWENTY-EIGHT

  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 he
r 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.

  "Maker only knows how many more to go," Alistair added on.

  Continuing onward the roads tipped at an angle, as if the very earth below them began to slide. Lana had to lash a hand out to the wall to keep upright, barely moving as the rest all gritted their teeth and hunched onward. Why would Morrigan head into the deep? What was she hiding from? She turned and caught the King of Ferelden flexing his fingers tighter and tighter to the sword at his belt. Aside from a vengeful father. Alistair's power never concerned her but something else must have. No sane person would flee into darkspawn territory if they had no choice.

  Lana knew better than to voice her thoughts, her head tipped down as she kept her eyes focused on the divots and bumps in the road. She was reduced to shuffling her feet, knowing that a fall would hurt not only her but her baby. Sometimes Cullen would glance over, concern evident, but he wouldn't say anything. He was probably saving up all of his nagging worries for when everyone was safe.

  The roads turned a corner to reveal a cramped hallway. "I'm not sensing any wards," Lana announced just before Reiss all but ran ahead. She wasn't in a waiting kind of mood apparently. Barely any light flickered here, the lava somehow dampened or rerouted. Beneath their boots, the ground cracked like stepping over broken pottery, too dark to see what they trod upon. Carefully, Lana lifted up a hint of flame against her fingers and they all gasped.

  Dozens of dead skeletal bodies lay scattered upon the ground like cards blown off the table. Heaped in what looked like three piles, heads and limbs knotted around each other without thought for how they fell.

  "Right, that's not ominous at all," Alistair moaned, shifting his head back and forth to try and chase away the rising willies they all felt. Eyeless sockets gazed up at the King from a
skull he nearly put his boot through. "Why are there so many dead bodies here?" he whined, sliding further inward but now making certain to not step on any fingers.

  "This witch's doing?" Cullen asked.

  "They're not darkspawn," Alistair said. "And some of these are ancient. It's almost like she," he bent down, bringing his face closer to the insect-eaten leathers that clung to cobwebbed bones, "brought 'em here for decoration."

  Reiss snarled, "Forget it. We have to keep..."

  Perhaps she tripped a trigger Lana missed, or they'd crossed deep enough into the trap, but the entire pile of corpses took a breath. It wasn't air they pulled into the long dissolved lungs, but magic. The veil cracked apart as every shattered leg bone connected to pulverized hip bones until the skeleton army began to rise to its feet.

  "You have got to be kidding me," Alistair groaned, drawing his sword. The four trained warriors squared off, each taking on their own set of skeletons. Alistair swung first, his blade cleaving a skull off shoulders, but it didn't do much to slow the skeleton down.

  Cullen took the battering ram approach, smashing a shield into the ribcage until the arms, weapons, and skull splattered onto the floor. "Why is it always undead?"

  "Sometimes it's tainted undead," Alistair threw in, beginning to mimic Cullen's style. The well practiced templar knew a thing or two about dealing with demons.

  "You have to be joking," Cullen whipped his sword through a spine, severing it, then turned to Alistair.

  He shrugged, "On that one I wish. I really, really do. Hey, Lanny..."

  His call went unheeded as she ripped apart the veil with one hand and swung her cane at another skeleton. Fire lanced from the tip, lighting up desiccated cotton and flesh like a wick. For a moment the skeleton panicked, its skinless hands trying to pat out the fire, but then it turned towards her. The flaming undead marched closer, uncaring about its own body cracking and popping from the heat.

  "Lana..." Cullen cried, attempting to turn back to rescue her. But he couldn't get close to the fire.