The pregnancy was a surprise, an unplanned speculation she never thought she would experience. She realized on the seventh day of her illness, curled over the waste basket in the early of the morn when only the softest touch of sunlight was beginning to appear. All the signs to come together, and she had never felt so stupid in all of her life. Aurora Cousland held her hands over her stomach, trying to make contact with the small being that grew within the depths of her womb.

It was a shocked joy, a bittersweet sadness that she felt to in the deep aches of her chest. Alistair hated her, what else what she expect of him but to hate their child as well? He would never forgive her for an act she had no choice in, no matter how hard she begged him of it. Memories of that night still pricked at her heart, still threatened to bring her down.

She had never felt so alone, so blockaded from the world as she did now. It was partially her own fault though, her own sins coming back to harm her. Leliana had tried to write to her, tried to visit and be there for her but yet she pushed her away. Zev had tried to make her laugh, but she would just look at him with the same hallow glare day after day. Finally they had given up, leaving on their own path. Wynne was busy with the tower, there was so much to be done there she wouldn't dare bother her. Fergus wouldn't be back in Ferelden for months.

Interrupting her thoughts, Dream barked from his place on the edge of her bed. His short stubby tail, something didn't really fit in with the rest of his broad body, wagged in a steady beat and his tongue hung from his mouth. Aurora smiled and kissed his head, scratching behind his ears; she would aways have her furred warrior by her side.

After her relationship with Alistair had ended and she fled Denerim, she had steadied herself with the finding a place to call home, a place that would keep her in the security of being sanctioned off from the rest of the community. After three weeks of traveling she came across a small village, so small it even had no name placed upon it yet. She later found it it was a new settlement, made by those who had lost everything in the Blight.

Ten miles away there was a forest, one that eventually melted away into uncharted territory. Upon further exploration there was a small wooden cabin, would that had not been inhabited for what seemed several decades. Inside there was nothing but cobwebs and forgotten furniture that would be more useful as firewood.

So the refurbishing started, first the cleaning and the fixing of the roof and any cracks that lingered in the walls. It had three separate rooms within it, a room that was found at the entrance door then two others that could be used as bedrooms. She purchased things she could find within the village, then made others she could not. First she had begun on the bedroom that she would use as her own, longing so much for a warm bed to sleep in with a real mattress beneath her constant aching body. This had been two months before she had found out of her pregnancy, when her new found exhaustion was a mystery to herself.

Now she found herself stuck with what to do with her half finished home, not sure how much of the rigorous work she should continue. Her own room had been completed, with a mattress made of straw with a cover of soft feathers for cushioning. She was still working on her quilts, sewing together fabrics she had purchased in an attempt to make a thick blanket, although it had been nearly two years since her last needlework session back home in Highever.

She would have to come up with a nursery, a safe place for the baby to sleep where it wouldn't be cold in the winter months. Maybe he or she would simply sleep with her, continuously in the safety of its Mother's arms. When the time came for it to enter the world, she was have to seek out other women from the village, or write for a healer even. Her mind was overwhelmed, the unexpected creature nestled within her both a blessing and a curse.

Maker though, she wanted this child more than anything in the world.

..

Alistair sat in an overly plush chair covered in so much velvet he felt like he was lounging on a woman's gown. He had gained a new nightly ritual, one nearly as great and relaxing as washing ones face or brushing their teeth; nighttime binge drinking. During the day he was the King Ferelden needed, the King who had never ever under any circumstances what so ever in the name of the Maker and the holy bride Andraste herself within any situation, wanted to be King.

Yet, here the poor bastard was with a crown upon his head and a bed as empty as an alcoholic beverage that had been found by Oghren. It still hurt to lay down upon the most comfortable bed he had ever experienced, yet to hold no milk skinned and silk soft woman in his arms. Thoughts of her burned, they created a color of red his head so deep that it may as well be his very own tainted blood flooding into his eye sockets.

She had left in the middle of the night to another man's bed, the man they both had sworn vengeance against; Loghain. His beloved had been skin to skin with the murderer, a man who was deeply embedded in a friendship with her entire family's murderer.

He and Loghain were set to dual the very next day, as soon as the clock struck the tenth hour of the day. One of them would lose their life, another would continue on. That night they had all slept within the palace, Loghain on a separate side to avoid and per-fight quarling. He had went to bed with her in his arms, and awoken with her gone and the door cracked. When it became apparent she was not to return, he had finally left the comfort of the palace bed and sought her out, asking the gaurds that flowed heavily through the grand architecture. Then, finally, he was told she was last seen disappearing into the Teryn's room.

At first he had suspected her to be poisoning him, stabbing him in his sleep, something befitting of their mortal enemy. Instead he was greeted with the site of her naked body, his shirt, the one she always wore to bed, on the floor and her nude form curled up at he back of that retched bastard. She had looked so content, her full lips upturned in the briefest of smiles.

The first wave of emotion made him feel sick to his stomach, made his heart stop beating and his whole body freeze. Following this was the blindest rage he had ever experienced, a roar exploding from his throat like an antagonized lion. He had grabbed Loghain, tearing him from the bed and slamming the broad man who nearly matched his own height into the wall.

He smirked when he met Alistair's eyes, chuckling deeply. "After the evening I've had, I see why you keep the young Cousland around. She's rather...ravishing." He looked over at the bed, where Aurora held a sheet to her chest with her blue eyes wide with shock and surprise. "Alistair...? What's going on?"

"I think maybe that question should be more so directed at you." He spat the words at her, never had he spoken that way to her in all their days on the road together, in any month that spent tackling the Blight with nothing but each other and a few stragglers they managed to pick up along the way. "How could you? How on Maker's earth could you do this?"

"Alistair, I didn't. I swear, please, you know me." She was pleading, her voice mixing with something he couldn't quite recognize, although the fear stuck out.

"Your skin tells another story," He barked, looking at the trail of bite marks that ran between her breasts. "Of all the men, you choose him?" He slammed Loghain once more against the wall as gaurds began to march into the room, swords drawn. The site before them had been rather shocking, the last Cousland naked in the bed of the Teryn and her lover, the bastard heir of the Therin line walking in on the act.

The memory still scorched his mind, still left bleeding fingerprints and an acidic pathway down the internal lining of his chest. He had let her in, Maker, he had worked so hard just to get her to let him in. Now he held nothing of her, they had no relationship and he had no heart of her where abouts in months.

At the final ball, the final celebration of the defeated Blight they had made eye contact in a briefness that held similarity to shooting stars. He wore his Father's crown and smiled a greeting at every noble who thanked him for his work as a warrior and congratulated him on his newfound king hood. She was rooted on the other side of the room, dressed in a gown of such a deep red with a bodice decorated in gold. It had fitted ever curve perfectly from her breast to her waist, then flowing out at her hips. It filled him lust, then disgust all in five seconds time.

Then there was that catch of an eye, her charcoal lined eyes that were already framed in so many dark eyelashes each blink brought them to kiss her cheekbones, never had been so jealous of hairs before. He would never forget that sadness, the full lower lip that was instant bit down upon. With an abruptness she ended it, holding her skirts and running from the room in a rather unladylike fashion.

It had brought a certain joy to him, seeing her squirm under his gaze with such lack comfortableness. Later he had heard she had been sick, throwing up over the balcony with charcoal crawling down her cheeks and shaking arms. Part of him felt a certain yearning for her, but he buried it in his anger and let the thought go.

With a final sip of his over prized booze, booze befitting of a King, he placed the bottle on his desk and collapsed into the bed.