The babe kicks at the shallow water with a gleeful giggle and Leandra's heart skips a beat. This little girl, her daughter, is still a wonder.
Arms slip around Leandra's waist and lips press against the nape of her neck, the slightest jolt of magic whispering down her spine.
"I love you."
The soft murmur, the magic, the warm embrace – Leandra happily melts into her husband's arms and nods. "I love you, too."
The babe reaches up with a happy babble and the world in that moment is right.
Hide.
It is what Father told her. The hay scratches her legs and she wants to cry, but she'll be brave, just like Father.
Footsteps grow louder and there is a low scrape of metal on metal.
Marian nearly sobs, fear gripping her so tightly she can't breathe. All she wants is Father and Mother and her new pup. Pup will be so scared without her.
"I can't see anyone." The man's voice is loud and gruff.
"You can't see your own two feet, you useless git." A woman's voice, harsh and cold. Nothing like Mother.
There is a sudden plop and a crackle and the air gets hot like summer. "We'll see if this brings out the vermin."
Her feet are too hot and smoke is filling her nose, and she finally coughs and struggles out of the hay. Marian chokes and gasps and tries to stay low when a foot presses against her back.
"Well, well, what have we here?"
There's a sudden ripple in the world and all Marian can feel is magic. The Fade's power surrounds her, and it is only her and the ground and light. Marian rolls over and shivers at the soft blue-green wall of light overhead. There are muted yells and she can barely make out her father amidst the smoke and spells.
Shadows surround Father and she wants to help, but she is too young, too weak. She cries until the shield suddenly disappears and all is dark.
The night is quiet, save for the crackle of burning hay. Marian stumbles to her feet as tears tumble down her cheeks. "Father?" Her voice is small in the dark.
Nothing.
"Father?"
The only answer is a soft breeze.
Her little legs tremble and she slumps to the ground, unable to be brave any longer. "Papa, come back to me." Her throat hurts and the words are a whisper. "Please, Papa." She has been too old, too stubborn, to call for her Papa for months, but in this moment she needs him.
"It's okay, Mari."
The sharp breath she takes burns and she turns towards the sound. "Papa!"
Her father scoops her into his arms and holds her tightly to his chest. "I have you. I'm here." His voice is thick and his fingers tremble as he strokes her hair, but he's here and she can be brave again.
Many years later she finally gathers the courage to ask what happened, and his eyes seem to shutter.
"I did what I needed to keep you safe. To keep all of you safe."
The words settle over her, and though the many meanings will not come to her for years, she realizes one thing there and then: sometimes the safety of an apostate is bought with the blood of a Templar.
Anders' mouth stifles her whimper as his fingers curl inside her, and Marian is certain that the Maker's embrace is a pale shadow compared to his.
When he finally enters her, her eyes flutter close and he draws his name from her in whispered, reverent tones.
His lips curve against her neck and magic dances along their skin as they move. The power shifts between them, flowing back and forth with each thrust and roll of hips, bright and hot and pure.
It is apostasy. It is sin. It is perfect.
Marian stares at the sky, struck by the beauty. Orange and red are stark against the blue-black of a dusk nearly lost to night, and goose bumps prickle along her skin.
Her lover squeezes her hand and when she looks at him, his haunted expression lifts for a few brief moments.
"The world will never be the same." He smiles at her and her pulse quickens. "We've changed it forever."
Marian looks over the destruction, satisfied with what has begun. "Forever."
Her father would be proud.
It has taken many months, and healers from three different (fallen) circles, but Mari is finally with child. Anders has been delighted since he felt that first glimmer of life when he pressed his hand to her belly. The pregnancy has not always been kind, but she is strong and the child has grown healthy.
It is only when the labor pains begin that fear begins to take him.
He's attended dozens of births, hundreds, and Mari is brave and sure, but he can't help the shake of his hands and the sweat on his brow. His wife, his lover, his friend – she is so many things he cannot put to words. If he loses her he fears he will lose himself completely.
He shares her pain, drawing it into him while she screams and the child slips into his hands. She sobs against his forehead and he draws the babe to his chest. Amidst the blood and tears he feels wholly human.
Marian stares into the fire as her daughter clings to her. Kari is long past the age to be held and rocked, but they both need something and they only have each other. Anders is gone, lost to the Deep Roads and the Taint and she hates them both for taking him from her. The world is changed and her daughter is a mage and free.
The fire burns to embers and with it goes Marian's final whispered goodbye.
"Anders, the baby's fussing. Could you rock her, love?"
Kari wipes at the tears that sting her eyes and curses the Maker. It is her mother and it is not: it is the mother of her youngest memories and it is not the mother that was strong when her father left to die.
Her mother lets out a small murmur of delight, and Kari's stomach clenches.
She presses a cool cloth to her mother's forehead and wishes she had her father's talent for healing. It never came to her the way fire called to her, begging her to pull it from the sky. That was her grandfather's gift.
Rough fingers dance along her neck and she sighs at the way they find knotted muscles and ease the tension.
"How is she?"
"Worse. She thinks Father is here."
Lips press into her hair and Kari closes her eyes. The end nears - she can smell death in the small room. They should prepare.
Her mother's ashes scatter along a broken coast and Kari watches quietly. It is only when a small hand tugs at hers that she realizes the sky is growing dark.
"Can we go home, mama?"
She lifts her son and cradles him to her chest, stroking the gold-blonde hair that is the same shade as her father's. "Of course."
He has grown tall and heavy since she first held him in her arms five years ago, but she carries him home and whispers of the mages who made them free.
AN: First off, many thanks to decantate and Nearia(dot)Awakened for betaing. This was originally written for a comm contest at PeopleOfThedas, with the prompt "Stages of Life."