Vaguely annoyed because yesterday afternoon, before work, I had some pretty great scenes for this, and when I got back from work, I was too tired to remember them in detail and I still don’t know if the ones I eventually hashed out are as good as they were when I first imagined them. Typical. (But Morristair alert heheh)
Steam sales are evil, you guys.
EDIT: remembered that Elra exists, plopped her in a bit.
Part 2
Life as the Consort of the Grandmaster of the Crows was not terrible, as it turned out, and two years later she was still alive and living in Antiva with her beloved. She’d taken to wearing local fashions, feminine but as practical as she could find, but she refused to style her hair in the Antivan way, or to wear loads of glitzy jewellry, and Zevran laughed and said that was all right.
Elra had joined her, continuing to serve her faithfully, although she found her new duties strange and confusing and foreign among so all these Antivan assassins. But she’d gotten over her fear of them surprisingly quickly.
Zevran took his responsibility as Grandmaster very seriously, extremely seriously, and she could see now how he had not wanted to take even a short vacation to come visit her. He seemed to have forgotten in some ways the carpe diem hedonism he’d had a decade ago. Quickie in the closet, yes, drink and sleep the night away, no. He was essentially a second King of Antiva, lurking in the shadows behind the figurehead ruling King and the more prominent, powerful merchant princes, shaping the nation the way he saw fit, keeping the delicate balance of power in favour of a stable country. And she helped him; running Amaranthine had left her with a great deal of experience in that regard.
That didn’t mean he still didn’t have time to fuss over her, and she, now that she was not the one in charge of everything, took the opportunity to fuss over him in turn, affectionately teasing him – and making sure he stayed safe and healthy. And she enjoyed how he would sometimes sneak out and check in on his underlings, often surprising them half out of their skin at the shock that the Grandmaster himself was talking to them. Oh, he was still wild and wicked and daring, but in a focused, controlled way. And that made him even more attractive to her.
She was surprised, herself, at how well she fit into his world, and how well the Crows in her immediate vicinity accepted her presence, her influence on their master, even though she still felt like an outsider. Even the beautiful woman with dark hair and eyes, Mirella, she became friends with. She would ever be a Fereldan Grey Warden, never an Antivan Crow. But they were loyal, and Zevran repaid their loyalty – he would not make the same mistakes his masters had made with him. So she hardly ever saw attempts on her life; any outside interference was taken care of long before it reached her.
She made no real attempt to join the Antivan Grey Wardens. That wasn’t a priority for her anymore. Certainly, she went to the Warden headquarters and made a few friends among them, but she mostly kept to Zevran’s side.
And most importantly, they were happy together. They sparred together frequently, on the training ground, in the political arena… in bed. They had their share of arguments, more even than before, but their love had blossomed once again into something strong and beautiful, and they never began or ended the day without a smile to each other. Being with him was a joy, and in his own happiness, his wit sparkled brighter than ever, making her laugh, although he could no longer make her blush – often.
It was her second summer in Antiva, and the weather was miserably hot. It could have been her imagination, but it seemed hotter than it had the previous summer, and it was affecting her worse than it ever had before. She often found she couldn’t stand for long periods of time without becoming nauseous, and the smell of the tanneries also made her sick. So much so, that she moved to a second Crow location across the city, hoping it would abate.
It did not; in fact, as the days went on, she felt worse and worse, and she had no idea why. She wanted to hide it, didn’t like the line that appeared between Zevran’s brows when she had a problem, but if she did hide it, he would be disappointed and hurt and the line would be worse.
He was very concerned, as she knew he would be. “My darling, have you considered going to a healer? I don’t recognize if this is some sort of sickness, but I feel fine, so I haven’t caught it…? All the more reason to find out why it affects you.”
“I thought it would pass on its own, dearest,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to go to a healer.” She’d always been reasonably healthy; the only time she needed a healer was to get a battle-wound stitched up, and this was nothing of the sort.
“Please go. I know a good man, a trustworthy man. He’ll find out what’s wrong.”
The healer turned out to be a surfacer dwarf, an elderly brother of the Chantry with large spectacles balanced on the tip of his nose. He looked at Elizabeth all over, poking magnifying things at her eyes and ears and peering into her mouth. He listened to her heart, her breathing, examined at her blood, her sweat, anything that could be measured and evaluated. It was all very strange.
If anything, Zevran was more anxious than Elizabeth was, since she didn’t feel that bad. He couldn’t sit still, fidgeting and pacing until Elizabeth wanted to scream at him. Brother Daumantas bore it all with infinite patience.
At last he put down his stethoscope. They waited impatiently for him to speak. “Well, my dear, it seems quite clear to me. You are not sick or poisoned.” He steepled his fingers. “You are pregnant. Perhaps for the last three months.”
Elizabeth laughed shortly in disbelief. “Impossible. I’m a Grey Warden.” And she was thirty, too old for children anyway. Zevran had frozen, looking like he’d just been struck in the head with a large mallet.
“And what does that have to do with anything?” Brother Daumantas asked, looking at her over the tops of his spectacles. “Certainly, it does take more patience, and more… ahem… diligence, but it is far from impossible.” Even in his stunned state, Zevran managed to grin at the implications. They had been making love on a very frequent basis.
She stared, and when she spoke, her voice was very small. “I was told that Wardens were infertile.” She certainly couldn’t have told from her period. She hadn’t had it in six months, pregnant or not, and that had been normal ever since she’d become a Warden; it came irregularly, two or three times a year, two weeks of debilitating pain and black blood, and the rest of the time she didn’t have to deal with it.
“They have reduced fertility, yes. Not completely infertile. I’ve known one or two who have borne children. Even at such a late year as you.”
She couldn’t believe it still. The things the doctor was telling her did not match up to her reality in any shape or form. Her, pregnant? To be a mother? She couldn’t think of those words in relation to herself.
But it was true, wasn’t it? It was true! She sprang to her feet, a wave of irrational anger sweeping over her. “Alistair Theirin, I’m going to kill you!” It was all his fault! He’d told her she was infertile! Even if he hadn’t known all the facts, deprived of senior Grey Warden guidance… it was his fault!
Zevran laughed, catching at her arms. “Now that’s my Liz! You’re not dying. Everything’s fine!”
“Like hell it is!” she exclaimed. “I’m not prepared for this! How am I going to fight?”
“You don’t have to fight when you’re pregnant, darling. Not in Antiva.”
“What if I have to? Is maternity armour a thing? Maternity armour is now a thing and I need some.” Even as she spoke, long-buried hopes and dreams surged up within her. To have a child, even one precious child, was something she’d long wondered about. But she did not feel anymore she would make a good mother. She’d been a soldier too long, an administrator, too far removed from the love of her own mother or even of Wynne’s warm support. Was she up to this? Was Zevran all right with being a father?
And more: she was already thirty. Was she still young enough the child would be born healthy? How long did she have left? Would her child forgive her if she died before he or she reached adulthood? Would she forgive herself?
Zevran was thinking none of these things, she could tell, and she couldn’t bring herself to dim the bright joy and relief in his eyes. “Thank you, ser, for the best news ever!” He tossed an entire wallet of gold at the dwarf and dragged Elizabeth outside by the hand, hugged her, spun her around, kissed her, and laughed. “Well, that’s a relief. And so I am to be a father, am I? How odd. I never expected such a state. But it is here now, so I’ll take it on.” He hugged her close again, lovingly, protectively. “I’ll take care of you both, darling.”
“I still don’t know what to say,” she said. “I’m still… shocked.”
He squeezed her. “Give yourself time. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”
She didn’t want him to give himself more stress – though she was a little jealous that none of his hair had turned silver yet – but she nodded for now. Just until she’d come to terms with the situation and regained her control over it.
“We should get married,” he added. “To grant the Maker’s blessings on this child.”
She hesitated, shocked again. She knew Zevran took religion seriously enough in his own strange, roundabout way, but she’d never thought he would suggest marriage of his own accord. She had thought she would have to do it.
He peered at her anxiously. “Liz? Darling?”
“Of course, dearest,” she said finally. “I was just surprised. I agree fully.” He wanted to be the father he’d never had, didn’t he? She could let him do that. “Will you marry me, then?”
He grinned from ear to ear. “With all my heart.”
Fergus Cousland was going through his mail at breakfast when one particular letter caught his eye: a message from his sister, obviously penned in haste, he could tell just from the ink blots on the envelope. Curious, he grabbed the letter opener and cut it open.
“Dear Fergus,” it read, “I am pregnant. (!!!?!?!?!)”
He had to put the letter down for a few minutes, and his head on the table, before continuing. “Oh, Bethy-Beth.”
“What’s the matter?” his wife, Helen, asked.
“Apparently my sister’s pregnant.” He took a big drink to fortify himself against the rest of the letter. “She doesn’t beat around the bush with her delivery or punctuation, either. Let’s see. ‘This is as much a shock to me as it is to you, as I had believed I was infertile as a Grey Warden. Before you start panicking like an overprotective twit, let me assure you I am otherwise in excellent health. I’m not sure what else to say as I’m still coming to terms with this state myself. Zevran is indeed the father, and we will be married tomorrow, but I think you can blame Alistair for everything – he’s the one who told me I was infertile.’” And the closing niceties. “Oh, Bethy-Beth.”
“What’s that mean?” asked his eldest son, Bryce.
“Auntie Beth is having a baby,” answered his younger son, Nathaniel. “She’s really surprised, because she thought she couldn’t.”
“Right you are, Nate,” Fergus answered. “I suppose it’s my solemn duty as elder brother to go murder Arainai now.”
“Isn’t he the Grandmaster of the Crows?” Helen asked anxiously. “Please don’t get yourself killed, my husband.”
“Not to worry, dear. I’m only teasing. But if he doesn’t take the best care of her, I will beat him up, should he show his face round here again.”
“Letter for you, ser,” said Sergeant Maverlies, dropping an envelope on Nathaniel Howe’s desk.
“Thank you, Maverlies. Not with the regular post?”
“I think it got dropped, ser.” He opened it.
“Dear Nathaniel, I thought you’d like to know that somehow, against all odds and good sense, I am pregnant. (!!!?!?!?) Yes, with Zevran’s child. I can’t imagine how it could be anyone else’s. He’s very excited, and I’m just… stunned. We’re getting married tomorrow, which is in some ways long overdue and in some ways far too sudden, not that much will change afterwards. I think. But I can now warn you that what I told you at your Joining is not quite true. Grey Wardens are NOT infertile, only with reduced fertility. So there’s hope for you and Velanna yet. If she ever returns, foolish woman. And it may mean doom for Oghren. As for Alistair, you should let him know that I WILL MURDER HIM for giving me this shock because HE is the one who told me I COULDN’T HAVE BABIES EVER. Also possibly because being pregnant makes me more irritable than usual (nausea, huzzah) and I might just murder him on principle. I hope everything is well at Vigil’s Keep, Yours truly, Elizabeth.”
Nathaniel began to grin from ear to ear. “Oh, Elizabeth. Can you find Alistair, please?”
“At once, ser.”
Alistair came running. “What? What is it? Message from Elizabeth?”
Nathaniel held the letter out to him. “See for yourself. And then invest in some new armour. And drawers.”
“Oh, Maker,” Alistair said, and took the letter. “What? But I was sure- That’s what I was told, that Wardens were infertile!” His eyes narrowed. “Of course, it wasn’t Duncan who told me. He would probably have explained it later. I suppose the others didn’t think I could handle the truth. Well, guess I’d better go educate the garrison.”
“Have fun,” Nathaniel said, grinning wickedly, and Alistair suddenly blushed as he realized what he’d volunteered for.
“On second thought-”
“No, no, I’m Commander now, and you volunteered for this solemn duty. Go to it, man.”
Alistair grinned. “But this is the most incredible news. Thanks for letting me know. We should celebrate tonight, her friends and all.”
“I agree. And I’m happy for her, too. When she talked to me about it before, she hid her feelings, but she was very melancholy about it. But it sounds like she has a lot of energy now.”
“That she does.”
She also wrote to Leliana, and received an elegant note in return. “Dear Elizabeth, I am so happy for you! I am beyond words. I remember how upset you were when you were told you couldn’t have children, so I’m esctatic to learn it’s not true. And to finally be married! You are truly blessed by the Maker in everything. And I am glad your handsome man is so devoted to you! Do keep me updated on your state, and I simply must know what you’re planning to name the baby, whether it’s a boy or a girl! Between the two of you and your good looks, I’m sure the little one will be the most beautiful baby in Thedas! Don’t worry about me, things are holding together over here. Just focus on your new family and how much love and light you bring into the world! All of my affection, Leliana.”
“Alistair and Oghren are in Antiva,” Zevran told her one morning. “Come to see you, no doubt.”
“No doubt,” she sighed. It had only been a month since she’d found out about her baby, and she was already tired of the whole thing, though Elra was over the moon about it. And things were only going to get worse from now on, she had been assured. At least the nausea was beginning to abate. She was more worried about Zevran than about herself. He wasn’t sleeping well, and she knew that because she wasn’t sleeping well, but she had an excuse, and her responsibilities weren’t so heavy. He was a light sleeper, but he refused to leave her side, so they were at a bit of an impasse.
And she had five more months to get through… and then the trials of parenting truly began.
And she was looking forward to it with an eager hunger that surprised her.
“Should we meet them somewhere?”
“It would be nice,” she said cautiously.
He glanced at her with a wry smirk. “I hear tell Alistair’s armour looks rather new.”
She put her head down on the table and began to laugh hysterically.
They sent word to her old friends and went to a certain hall in Antiva City, a nice public place where the security of the Crows wouldn’t be compromised, but there could be enough Crows around to make assassination attempts impossible, and waited for Oghren and Alistair to arrive. He did not wear his mask – they weren’t here on business, and it would be better for them all if her friends were not seen to be overtly in the company of the Grandmaster.
But they were not the first ones to arrive. A woman in an elegant black and maroon gown swept up to them, a young boy in equally nice clothes behind her. “I hear I’m to offer you congratulations on several accounts, Elizabeth.”
“M-Morrigan?” Elizabeth stammered. She had thought – Morrigan had told her, when she stepped through the Eluvian, that she would never see her again. How strange that she should break her word now.
“’Tis me, yes. I see you’ve held onto the pretty fool. Managed to catch him in Chantry vows, even.” Zevran chuckled and bowed. “I hope rituals before a possibly non-existent god has deepened your relationship beyond the lust you two always exuded for each other.”
Which was Morrigan’s way of saying she wished them happiness. “Thank you, Morrigan. And that’s your son, yes?”
“This is Keiran,” Morrigan said. “Kieran, this is the woman I told you of, Elizabeth, the Grey Warden. And her husband, I suppose, Zevran.”
“Greetings,” Kieran said. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“And I am pleased to make yours,” Elizabeth said.
“I as well,” Zevran said.
“Has it truly been so many years already? You are quite tall,” Elizabeth said.
Kieran nodded. “I expect my height to be above average when I reach my full stature.”
Zevran turned to Morrigan. “I must say, I wasn’t expecting to see you of all people here. I didn’t even know, and there’s little that gets by me in Antiva.”
“Surely even I can take a break from meddling in the fate of Thedas to see one of the few I would call friend, on the occasion that she might bring a spawn of her own into this world. Besides. I’m not wholly here to see you. I’m also here to see him.”
Zevran blinked, and Elizabeth blinked. It didn’t seem that Morrigan was talking about him. Then who-
“Eliza!” Oghren’s familiar hoarse roar carried well in the hall, echoing from its vaulted ceilings and turning heads. He trotted up to Elizabeth and began rubbing her belly until she whacked him. “Ow.”
“Stop that, Oghren, that’s rude and I don’t like it.”
“Since when has rude ever stopped me, Eliza? And hey, you got a kid in there, it needs greeting too! I need to let it know Uncle Oghren’s thinking about it!”
“It’s not big enough to notice, Oghren-”
Alistair was just behind him, but when he saw the two women, he stopped short. “Morri? Kieran?”
“And finally, he deigns to arrive,” Morrigan said. “I’ll let you catch up first.” She stepped to the side.
“Hello, Alistair. But since when do you call Morrigan ‘Morri’??”
Alistair grinned. “When she can’t murder me in public. Speaking of murdering…” He opened his eyes wide and sad. “You’re not actually going to kill me, are you? I swear I didn’t know.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Not if you make that face, I’m not. Did you actually get new armour because of that? But I am going to slap you for all the mental trauma you put me through, both then and now.” And she did.
Alistair staggered back a pace while Oghren guffawed. “You’ve still got a beastly swordarm,” Alistair said, holding his hand-printed cheek. “I’d make a joke about the strength of pregnant women, but I’d rather not get hit again.”
“Very wise of you. I could still trounce both of you any day, so don’t you laugh too hard, Oghren.”
“She’s insisting on maternity armour,” Zevran put in.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”
Oghren laughed harder than ever. “Never change, Eliza. I want to spoil your kid rotten when it pops out. Teach it the finer points of-”
“You are not teaching my child anything about women or alcohol, Oghren.”
“Thank goodness,” Alistair said. “Odds are even whether it would end up just like him, or dead. Also, Nathaniel sends his best, and so does Sigrun, and Rain and Sarah and Hannah and my Lady Ae. Now, what’s Morrigan doing here?”
“She says she came to see you. And us, but mostly you.”
“I knew she always liked me!” Oghren leered, and Morrigan pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation.
“Not that I’m complaining – never – but I just saw her last year.” A slow smile crept over Alistair’s face. “Guess she must really have missed me.”
“As if,” Morrigan said. “I just happened to be in the area and heard that you were meeting. Decided to crash your little Fifth Blight party.”
“It is a party, isn’t it? And by the way, Zevran, pretty creepy how you knew we were here in Antiva City. Elizabeth, I think you married the Creepmaster, not the Grandmaster.” As Zevran snorted, Alistair knelt in front of Morrigan’s son. “Hi, kiddo.”
“I’m not a kiddo,” Kieran said solemnly. “Hello, father.”
“So he knows,” Zevran murmured to Elizabeth.
“Of course he knows,” Morrigan said. “There’s no harm in him knowing… even if his father is a fool.”
“A handsome fool at the very least, and you know it,” Alistair protested. “How’re your studies going, Kieran?”
“I become more proficient with time,” Kieran said. “Someday I may even surpass Mother.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Alistair said.
“It’s been… lovely to see you all,” Morrigan said. “But now we must be going.”
Alistair’s face fell. “But we only just met. We haven’t talked, none of us. Can’t we at least go to dinner together?”
Morrigan raised an eyebrow. “Careful, Alistair. You almost sound like you don’t hate me.”
“I’m not so proud as you are,” Alistair said, and there was something very sweet in his tone, that even Morrigan hesitated to turn away. And in that hesitation, Alistair stepped forward and kissed her gently. Elizabeth and the others stared in disbelief; Kieran stared with uncanny curiosity.
“You don’t hate me,” Alistair breathed, stepping back a pace.
“Oh yes, I do,” Morrigan retorted, recovering herself. “You kissed me in public, you must die now.”
“Never catch a break, do you, Alistair?” Oghren chuckled. “Wherever you go, hot women threatening to kill you.”
“I know, it’s not fair,” Zevran said. “I get all sorts of people threatening to kill me, not just attractive women – though, mostly them too. Want to trade?”
“No, thank you,” Alistair said.
“But I liked that idea you had,” Zevran continued. “We should get dinner. Come! I’m buying.”
“You really should leave Antiva City,” Zevran said again, his forehead wrinkling.
“No,” she said. “That wasn’t part of the deal. I’m not here in Antiva to be away from you, no matter my condition.”
“You can’t stay here, not anymore. Look at you!”
She put her hands on her hips. “And what do looks have to do with anything!?” Yes, she was very obviously pregnant. She could feel the baby kicking now. What did that have to do with leaving Antiva City?
“I-” Zevran stumbled over his words, trying to pick them carefully. “If someone comes after you now-”
“What, I can’t fight, just because I have a baby!?” She was bizarrely incensed by his insinuations. Her temper had been so random the last few months. She hated it, which only made her mood swings worse.
“No,” he said, very firmly. “I know you. You’re capable of fighting up until the hour you go into labour. Do not think for a minute that I think so little of you, Liz.”
“Then why should I leave you, your work, all of this!? Are you so tired of my mood swings? Because I would be and I don’t blame you, but I don’t want to leave, either!” And suddenly she felt tears welling up. Maker help her, she’d never had so little control over herself in her life, and she hated it so much.
“No, that’s not it either.” He was struggling to hold onto his own temper; she was being unfair. “Liz… darling, I don’t- I can’t lose both of you, if anything happens.”
Her mouth opened. “Oh.”
“And no, I can’t say what might happen out there, if it would be any safer than here. But you’d be less easy to find. All my best men will go with you. Mirella won’t leave your side. But when I think of what might happen, I… just can’t let that happen.” His resolve cracked, and for a moment she saw just how truly scared he was.
She was shocked. She had not thought that Zevran would ever be so afraid for her. He hadn’t been so afraid for her even when she was fighting the Archdemon. And that made her almost laugh, the idea that a baby would give him more fear than a dragon, but she didn’t laugh, because it wasn’t funny at all.
“I’m sorry,” she cried, and reached up to kiss him, to rub his ears the way he liked, to smooth the worried wrinkles in his forehead. Now she was trying not to cry again. “I’ll go. I’ll go wherever you wish. But I want you to come too.”
Now he hesitated. “But the Crows…”
“They can survive a couple months without you. Come with me, dearest. You’re wearing yourself down, worrying about me and Antiva. They can take care of themselves until the baby is here.”
“It… does sound nice,” he admitted. “I… am rather tired. But not as tired as you, surely.”
“You’re not sleeping well, not eating well – did you think I didn’t notice just because I have a small person growing inside me?”
“As opposed to the other small person you’ve often had growing inside you?” he asked, his voice drier than ever, and she had to snort at his terrible joke. “I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice. But if it will make you happy, I’ll come.” Maybe he just didn’t want to upset her again, with his quick acquiescence, but it did make her happy. And it was a sign of their strong bond, that he would even think of taking time away from his job for her, when before he had not. Or maybe it was simply a sign of how tired he was. She couldn’t let him kill himself for her sake.
She cried out, clenching her teeth against the shooting pain, against the unstoppable contractions, and Zevran squeezed her hand harder. Her hand was going numb, and his must be the same.
But the end – or the beginning – was in sight. If only this birth would hurry up and happen. She’d faced injury and violent death ten thousand times before, and yet she’d never faced anything like this. And it went on, and on, and on, and there was no way to stop it, no way to speed it up that she knew of.
She told herself to get a grip. Women all over Thedas went through this, every day, and hardly any women had gone through the wars that she had.
But that wasn’t quite true. Not so many women had their first child at the age of thirty; not so many women were Wardens – and she just knew that some of her present trouble came from that state.
Despite her warrior’s strength and endurance, she was exhausted to the point of collapse by the time she felt release, by the time she felt Elra take the tiny body from between her legs. The bed beneath her was soaked with sweat, and maybe some blood as well, and she was desperately thirsty. She heard the baby wail, and tired as she was, felt her heart thump with anticipation. But for now she could do no more than lie there and let Zevran stroke her damp hair back from her forehead.
“Here you are, my lady,” Elra said, beaming with proud happiness for her, holding a small white bundle out to her a few minutes later. The infant was fussing, its tiny nose twitching, as she took it into her arms. She was the tiniest bit disappointed not to see pointed ears, but round human ears were a dominant trait. Its head was covered with fine dark hairs already. If it opened its eyes, what colour would they be?
“Boy or girl?” Zevran asked breathlessly.
“It’s a girl, my lord! Strong, healthy girl.”
“Girl,” she said. “It’s a girl. Our daughter. Armida.” The name they’d chosen hadn’t seemed to fit until this moment, when now it seemed the most perfect name in Thedas.
“Hello, Armida,” he said softly, his eyes shining as much as hers were.
Armida yawned and drooled on her blanket.