Summary: Even in domestic bliss, there remain battles to fight. Phaedra/Fenris family fluff, post-Kirkwall.

Disclaimer: In no way, shape, or form do any of the recognizably canon characters or places belong to Yours Truly.

Queen's Quornor: Strange things come from my boredom. I have three DA2 stories that need to be written and posted, including this one, and I need to finish "Chant of Blood" and complete the next chapter of "Behind Closed Doors." Way too much on my plate, on the writing front alone...

Family

Someone was watching him.

Fenris felt the eyes upon him, the calculating scrutiny of silent appraisal. The forest around him gave no clue as to the nature of this watcher, merely continued its transition from day to evening. He paused in the tiny clearing between two sprawling oaks, cocking his head, trying to ascertain the direction of the threat. He thought of his sword, left at home as he had not thought it needed for a hunt, and cursed himself for not bringing it along. The lyrium beneath his skin began to glow with an eldritch luminscence as a gentle breeze played over him.

The azure fires dimmed and a little smile teased at his lips. His shadow was upwind, and it was a familiar scent indeed.

Hefting the trio of rabbits he had snared, Fenris began walking again with a careless shrug. This was not a dangerous trap.

There was a soft rustling in the bushes ahead.

The elf bit back his smile as he passed the swaying foilage.

With an exhilarated shout, a small body launched itself from the bushes and locked its skinny limbs around his back and waist, clinging tightly. Fenris staggered with the impact, then dropped his catch and reached back until his hands closed on the little arms. Before his ambusher could react, he swung her high above his head so her legs pointed straight at the sky before bringing her down for a sudden embrace. She shrieked in surprise and delight, craning her head to meet his eyes.

"I got you, Father! Didn't I?"

"It seems that I got you," he replied, mirroring her wide grin. "Did you come alone, or is your sister with you?"

"Leda's at home with Mother. Malcolm's fussy." She twisted in his arms, uncaring that her scarlet ponytail tickled his nose into a frenzied twitch. "Did I scare you?"

"No, Rai'eena. I heard you." Fenris let his daughter down and bent to retrieve the rabbits. "You hid yourself well this time, but you did not keep still. That is what gave you away."

The little girl put her hands on her hips and glared at him, her crimson brows furled in a scowl. "Then why'd you let me pounce?"

"Only through failure will you learn success." He reached out to ruffle her bright hair, and she playfully batted his hand away. Rai'eena fell into step with him as he resumed the trek back to their home, his pace deliberately slow so the young girl could keep up with his long strides. "Have you been practicing your swordplay?"

"All morning. Mother took Bushbane away, though."

Bushbane. Her name for the wooden sword he had carved for her and Leda's birthday. Both of the twins had received a carved blade, but Rai'eena was the only one who had shown any interest in following their father's path. Leda's sword had yet to see use beyond propping up the corner of their room. "Why did she take your sword away?"

Rai'eena hopped over a fallen tree limb, not looking at her father. "I sort of...hit Leda with it?" She gave him a sheepish smile.

Fenris' mouth thinned. "Why did you do that?"

She kicked at a bunch of leaves. "Didn't want to spar with me. Leda's been trying to make sparkles for Mother."

The elf sighed. His crimson-topped daughter was a warrior in the making, and it was obvious that she had inherited his talent with the blade. Leda was the exact opposite. The white-haired girl cared little for swordplay, and Phaedra had long suspected that the elder twin was a mage, but Fenris had fervently hoped such was not the case. He loved his apostate wife and young family more than anything else in the world, but the idea that one of his beloved children might possess magic was a terrifying prospect. He had protected his daughters since Phaedra told him she was pregnant again. How was he to protect them from demons and spirits? The thought that he might lose Leda to a demon haunted him, and his wife could only soothe his fears so much.

Then there was the question of baby Malcolm, the newest addition to the family. Which path would he walk, if either? He was far too young to display any preferences or talents. If their son was a mage, Fenris' sleep would know no peace.

"So we're having rabbit stew for dinner tonight?" Rai'eena asked, her voice high with eagerness. The twins loved rabbit, although they couldn't watch their father clean and prepare the creatures. Leda in particular loved animals; she had a pet fox she was raising, a kit she had found in an abandoned den. Rai'eena fostered a stubborn hope for a mabari pup.

"If your mother feels like cooking stew, then yes." He stepped lightly over the little stream the family used for fresh water, and Rai'eena hopped across the rocks. "Otherwise, we will roast them."

The house came into view as they rounded a stand of ancient oaks, and Fenris felt his steps quicken. Phaedra was one of the most powerful mages in Thedas, and more than capable of looking after herself and the children. But he could not help his worries whenever he left them. After finally creating future and a family, he would not allow anything to take them away from him. They were all the most cherished things in his life.

He could see Phaedra through the window of their kitchen. She was seated with her back to him. Smiling, he handed the rabbits to his daughter.

"Take these behind the house, and watch them while I get my knives. Don't let any wolves steal them, understand?" He peered into her dark green eyes, exact copies of his own, to make sure she absorbed the serious nature of this task.

She nodded slowly, a determined expression taking hold of her face. "Yes, Father. I won't let any wolf-thieves steal our dinner."

"Good girl." He watched her run behind the house, the rabbits bumping against her back, then went to the front door and made his way to the kitchen.

His wife was sitting in a chair with her back cushioned by a pillow, her eyes closed. Malcolm lay in the sling she had made to hold him, and her shirt was undone. The tiny infant made contented sighs and the occasional grunt as he suckled at her breast.

Fenris leaned against the doorjamb, basking in the serenity of domestic bliss. Phaedra looked exhausted, there were shadows beneath her eyes and her colorless hair lay limp and bedraggled in its tie. Between the difficult pregnancy and Malcolm's delivery, which had almost taken both mother and child to the Maker's side, and the sleepless nights with their colicky son, she was operating on very little energy. In spite of this, Fenris still saw her as the beautiful woman he had fallen in love with all those years ago. She could never be anything less to him, particularly since she had given him his future.

Careful not to make a sound, he picked his way across the kitchen until he stood before her. Malcolm continued his meal, unbothered by the prescence of his father. Phaedra did not appear to be awake. Smiling, Fenris bent down to gently brush his lips against hers.

"Let me guess. Three rabbits and a daughter?"

His lips parted in a true grin. "You were listening," he murmured as her bright green eyes slid open.

"I've always had sharp hearing."

"I thought you were asleep."

"Merely resting my eyes." She smiled and her gave her a deeper kiss in response. After a heated moment he drew back to gaze into her eyes, warmed by the happiness he saw mirrored in them.

"I am led to believe that this has been a trying day for you." He combed his fingers softly through her hair and cradled her cheek. She leaned her head into his palm, her smile tender.

"I had to use magic to soothe his stomach. Malcolm needs more than those herbal treatments I've been trying." She led his gaze down to their son, and Fenris carefully traced the back of his fingers across the snowy hair that capped the tiny head. Only one of their children had inherited a hair color other than white, and Malcolm's eyes were almost fully green, having shed the pale blue they had borne upon his birth. "As you can see, he is much happier than before."

"I suppose his comfort is worth a spell." He leaned down to press his lips to the baby's hair. "I hated knowing that I could do nothing to ease his pain. It is good that he can now eat without worry."

He felt his wife's touch on his hand and lifted his head to meet her smile. "I'm glad you approve. Now, don't you have some dead animals to clean?"

A small laugh escaped him and he stood up. "It would be too much to ask, for Rai'eena to be patient. I'd better get back there before she comes looking for me."

"At least Leda is calm. She's as good a child as I could have hoped." Phaedra carefully worked her index finger between her breast and Malcolm's mouth, breaking the suction and separating the two. Fenris watched with a pleasant warmth in his chest as she lifted their son to her shoulder and began to pat his back. Malcolm obliged by surrendering a quiet belch.

Phaedra noticed her husband's serene interest. "Do you want to hold him? I'll get your knives for you."

The elf held out his hands, and she passed their son to him. He lifted him so the baby lay along his chest with his little head resting on his shoulder, and closed his eyes, enjoying the tiny puffs of warm air against his neck. Malcolm yawned and snugged deeper in his father's arms.

"And you used to be so scared of holding them," Phaedra teased. She slowly stood, reaching high to stretch her back.

"I have found that I enjoy the warmth of a child on my shoulder. The fact that they are mine helps me past the fear of hurting them." He nuzzled his cheek against the downy head.

His wife's smile faltered. She turned away, heading for the shelf that held his butcher knives, but his sharp eyes noticed her abrupt change of mood. Inwardly he cringed, realizing too late how she might interpret his words. The cost of their youngest's safe arrival had been very, very steep as well as irreversable.

Fenris walked to her side, Malcolm secure against his shoulder. "You shouldn't feel any guilt, or shame. It was not your fault."

She drew in a shuddering breath and reached for the rolled cloth of his cleaning kit. "I know, but it's hard to accept it. I've always wanted a large family, with lots of children. When you and the Dalish built this house, I wanted to fill it with as many babies as I could, because we both wanted them so much." Her head bowed, hiding her face behind stray wisps of white hair. "But now..."

"Three children make a fine family." He laid one hand on her shoulder. She reached up and gripped his fingers. "We have a pair of beautiful twin girls and a handsome, healthy son. That is more than many people have."

"You don't care taht I'm incapable of more?" she asked, her voice barely higher than a whisper.

Fenris squeezed her fingers as he considered his reply. Malcolm's birth had been a hazardous affair; he had been breech, and earlier than anticipated. The difficulty of the birth, combined with the malady which had ailed Phaedra thoughout the pregnancy, had almost ended both their lives. Thanks to the wandering healer Aneirin, mother and babe had survived, though not without great personal cost. Fenris' heart tightened when he remembered his wife's helpless tears, the black despair that had consumned her thoughts, when she was told that she could no longer conceive. He had spent many nights holding her while she grieved for the children they would never have.

"What I wanted was to remain at your side, come what may. That has not changed." Still holding Malcolm, he turned his wife and pressed her against him, laying his cheek atop her hair. She clutched him tightly in response. "A larger family would have been nice, but perhaps it was better to stop at three. I hardly remember anything of my own family, just pieces of memories. I'm not certain I could deal with more than a few children, at least not until the older ones are grown. But my wish has not been altered. I am not leaving you, regardless of how many children we have."
Phaedra sniffled. "I'm supposed to be stronger than this, you know. You have a habit of making me cry."

"Not always out of sorrow, I hope."

She shook her head. "Sometimes it's out of joy. Plus I'm tired and my emotions are running amok, so it's little wonder I'm crying." She held him a moment longer, then released him and plucked Malcolm off his shoulder. "Go on. Rai'eena is not likely to wait much longer."

"I honestly believe that girl takes after your brother more than either of us." He reached for the fabric roll, careful of the knives poking from the far end. "If she ever leaves and come home with a mabari tattoo..."

Phaedra laughed. "She has more sense than that. Rai'eena would never put a tattoo on any location that could mimic a barking motion."

Her husband masked his own laugh with a cough. If any of their children - as it seemed now, anyway - were to get a tattoo, the feisty red-headed daughter was the most likely candidate. She already had a habit of stealing her mother's kohl; what was to stop her from getting inked when she was older?

"Speaking of Rai'eena..." Phaedra pointed out the window, and Fenris followed her gesture. A vehement curse escaped him as he saw the girl running across the grass after a skinny, mangy escuse for a wolf. The wolf had one of the rabbits in its mouth and their daughter was chasing it down with a long stick.

"Next time, I'll guard my catch and she can get my knives!"