A/N: Hello again! Long time, no see! I'll offer apologies, but the reason is the same as always – though I think many of you, especially those of you with families, careers, or just time-consuming extra-curricular activities – can relate: Life gets in the way. Far more than I could have imagined has happened in just a year. I've moved cities twice, houses three times, had my heart broken (and not just romance, my Papa passed away in February, making me a very sad granddaughter), completed my foster parent training, changed jobs a few times, and started back to college for nursing. So, yeah, it's been something else this year. All I'm saying is that, yes, I know it's been forever, and I'm sorry it has, but the reason is legitimate.

Now, without further ado, I present chapter two of this exciting story. Oh, and an incredibly great amount of thanks to my awesome beta-reader, Enchantm3nt! Go check out her fics when you finish here. You won't be disappointed!

Thanks for reading!
-Rachel Noelle

P.S. I try to reply to all of my reviews, but I got lazy and missed several. If your review was one I missed, drop me a line so I can personally say thanks!

oOoOo—RN—oOoOo

Anders sat dejectedly on a cot in his clinic, cradling his head in his hands. After the hustle and bustle of the long day he was exhausted. His assistant today, a pretty young redheaded Circle mage named Alice, was tending to the last patient, sending him home with a tonic before letting herself out. Anders thanked her before she bade him goodnight and took her leave. If he ever decided to retire from the healer business, he thought, he'd leave the clinic to her just because of her skilled hands and sweet personality.

Now that he had successfully been separated from Justice for almost a year and a half, and with his dear Sebastian attending to business in Starkhaven, the clinic was quiet and Anders was quite honestly bored. He absently thumbed the Vael crest pinned to his cloak as he let his mind wander.

It was only after the ritual to separate himself from Justice that Sebastian even began regarding the mage as a complete human. And, only a few months before, a fateful dare from Hawke, Isabela, and Varric had landed them in this position. But even with all the good in his life now, he sometimes missed the aggravating spirit.

The ritual to separate him from the spirit was grueling and excruciating. The research and the number of broken laws it took to find the research was just as terrible. But the premise of the ritual was simple: draw some runes, make a potion, drink it, come within two inches of your death, and then be free. The only thing that deterred Anders at all was the dismal survival rate of just one mage: him.

Perhaps it had been because the Tevinter magisters sought to remove demons, instead of spirits, or maybe it was because Justice longed for his freedom as much as he, but it had worked. Though now Anders understood all too clearly the reason for such a low survival rate. If the pain – searing and scorching like being burned alive from the inside out – wasn't enough, then the amalgamation of voices screaming to be heard over one another would be plenty to drive anyone to suicide.

It was an incident where Justice took over that finally broke him. He was targeting a young circle mage who simply wanted to return to safety. Thank the Maker Hawke had been there with him. Expecting Blood Mages to be behind the disappearances, she tipped her daggers with Magebane, a non-lethal poison designed to drain mana stores. Not wanting to lethally harm her friend, she swiped his arm with the poisoned dagger just in time to block him from harming the young woman. As Hawke stood between the two, the Magebane took immediate effect and, perhaps because it was Hawke's special blend, blocked his magic and his connection to Justice completely.

Anders broke down into horrible sobs, wailing as he ran away from the scene. The effect lasted only about an hour, but it was the most wonderful hour in Anders' recent history. His mind was his own and his thoughts were not invaded by a long unwelcome guest. The reintroduction of Justice into his mind nearly drove him over the brink of sanity. He found himself nearly beating down Hawke's door in the wee hours of the night, begging her to touch her dagger to him again. After two hours she relented and offered him a vial of the poison. "Please be careful," she told him, worry evident on her face.

"I will," he replied, hoping he wasn't lying to her again.

When he used the second vial of Magebane he finally decided he could take no more of the spirit constantly driving him to put his friends' well-being aside for "Justice!" He broke down and asked Hawke to help him seek out the ingredients for the potion. She agreed so readily and happily he felt guilty for even asking. "Anything for a friend," she had answered brightly. He told her what the concoction was for, at least in the most simplified definition, and felt guiltier still when she as happily agreed to help him hunt down several very dangerous ingredients. He neglected, however, to tell her that there was no chance he would survive, and that he would be undertaking the ritual alone, locked into the cellar beneath the clinic.

The hunt for the dragon's liver was almost the end of Hawke, and many of their companions shot glares toward him for a few days after the battle. Hawke, ever courageous and unable to say "no" to a friend, dove under the high dragon to deflect a hit to Merrill just as the beast's foot fell down upon her. Even reflecting on the memory now made Anders pale and sick to his stomach, recalling the sickening crunch her breaking bones made beneath the dragon's weight. It was a memory Anders did not take lightly. He shook his head to clear the miserable thoughts.

Anders gave Hawke a vague timeline of when he planned to conduct the ritual. It involved several days of preparation, mixing the potion and letting it set for nearly three weeks being the simplest step. "Between four and six weeks is what the spell reads," he told Hawke and Varric, who seemed to never leave her side even then.

"Alright, Blondie, but you better let us know when you start this for real. I don't like having to worry about people like you from a distance, you know," Varric told him, the usual twinkle all but gone from his eyes, replaced with concern for the mage.

"Of course," Anders lied. He tried not to swallow audibly. He was a terrible liar, and always had been, especially when beautiful women and terrifying dwarves were involved.

"Please, Anders?" Hawke added. "Even Fenris worries about you. He'll never admit it, but he does."

Anders mustered up every ounce of energy to pull off a remotely honest expression and thank them for their concern before shooing them out of the clinic.

The next day, he told Lirene to let everyone know that he would be away on business for a few days, and unable to open the clinic. He had no assistants at the time, and he felt a bit guilty about having to close, but it would be one less thing to worry about. Anders made sure that no one could disturb him (telling Hawke that he was going to Sundermount to look for herbs) and locked himself up with no weapons or magical artifacts nearby. He inscribed the last of the runes in a circle on the floor and sat in the middle before he drank the potion.

At first he almost laughed to himself. The potion was pleasant, tasting of mint and elfroot, and he briefly thought the reports had been horribly exaggerated. Until an instant later when he collapsed onto the floor with the pain. Justice began screaming wildly in his head, and he could only just hear himself doing the same when the voices began. He futilely placed his hands over his ears, trying to stop all the screams.

When he was on the brink of certain destruction, the last shreds of his sanity just out of reach, he lost consciousness. He found himself in some version of the fade, filled with rolling green hills and flowers that freckled the earth. He could smell the fresh air, hear the birds chirp, and feel the soft grass beneath his feet. He just knew he was dead. But it was a pleasant place to be, if that was the case, so he made no effort to leave.

Sometime later it began to rain, a hard, heavy rain, with booming thunder. He saw no lightening, but it didn't matter, he was dead.

Until he wasn't.

Anders came to with a start, convulsing violently. In his confusion he made to attack Hawke, a few well-placed bolts from Bianca being the only thing to restrain him. When he settled and the bolts were removed, Hawke clutched to him for dear life, begging and pleading with him to stay alive. If he ever thought refusing her advances was enough to have killed him, now he certainly wished he would have died.

Varric stood with her, a hand on her shoulder as she cried, worried for her friend. Beneath his worry, the expression on the dwarf's face bore more hatred and resentment than Anders had ever seen him wear, and it was rightfully directed at him. Not only was this the second time Anders had singlehandedly made Hawke cry (according to Isabela) - and it looked like Varric was only restraining himself for the sake of their fearless leader - but he had come within mere moments of his death and the two misfits standing over him were equally overjoyed to see him alive and livid about his poor judgment.

"How could you be so stupid, Blondie?!" Varric spat out heatedly. "You almost died! It took Aveline and Merrill two days to break the seals on the door and bust it down, and now Daisy's exhausted to the point she can't even stand. You're damned lucky I like you so much or I'd kill you myself just for being a dumbass."

"I- Im sorry," Anders managed weakly. "I didn't want you to see me like this…" Hawke raised her hand and Anders braced for a slap that never came. When he braved opening his eyes again he saw a defeated look on Hawke's face. It was then that he noticed a deep, fresh gash on her upper arm.

"I'm sorry we couldn't get here sooner. I should have known when you were gone for more than a few hours to 'pick herbs'," Hawke sobbed faintly. "I almost let you die."

Words failing him, Anders reached out a hand to heal the simple wound, stringing together a simple enchantment, only for nothing to happen. He shook his head, his mind still fuzzy. He could remember Justice, and there was some small part of him lingering behind. Anders nearly burst into tears himself when he realized what had truly happened. His magic was gone, possibly for the rest of his existence, and the spirit had been utterly destroyed in the process. All that remained of Justice was a small fragment of memory.

His magic returned after only a week. Anders even went into the Chantry to say a prayer of thanks to a Maker he was not sure existed.

Anders spent the next two weeks apologizing to his friends, chiefly Hawke and Varric, sending more gifts and letters to Hawke than a man trying to woo her. She finally asked him to her home for dinner, just to catch him when he was free, to demand he stop sending things. He had even sent a vial of fireproof wax to Varric to use on his beloved crossbow, but the dwarf returned it with a bolt through his cloak and a terrifying warning that the next would hit his heart if he made him worry and Hawke cry like that again.

Anders chuckled darkly to himself. He should have known then, well before Isabela, that there was something more than simple friendship between the two. And they still danced around one another for almost a year after that.

He shook his head again to clear the memories and stood to stretch, deciding to retire to his room at Sebastian's Kirkwall home, though he still felt a bit out of place there. Since the battle of Kirkwall, when Elthina fell by both mage and Templar hands and the Chantry had been left a pile of rubble, Sebastian had forsworn his vows. Though he maintained his deeply religious nature, he was no longer a brother, and not as terrified of giving into his baser desires. Anders guessed he felt rather lost with the Chantry in shambles, and without much direction otherwise, he had taken up the Vael crest and amassed a small army to retake his lands.

Anders walked through the Vael manor door, relieved to not have to greet the elf who tended the home and her exuberance. He simply did not feel like pretending to feel happy, or even content, this evening. Though he was, he supposed, if a bit bored. It was not too late yet, there would be plenty of time to catch a few hands of Wicked Grace and a few drinks at the Hanged Man.

Pushing aside the images of Orsino turning to blood magic, Meredith going insane from the lyrium sword, and a final confrontation no one was sure who ended, Anders' mood perked up and he quickly stashed his things before leaving his lover's home and heading to Lowtown. With just a little luck, he wouldn't be asked for more intimate details of his relationship with Sebastian. But Anders knew he was more usually unlucky, and Isabela would have a time with him, while Fenris sat beside her impatiently, rolling his eyes. At least Varric, Hawke, and Merrill would be there to help make things a little less awkward. He was momentarily grateful that Sebastian was away, as Isabela wouldn't get her best jibes in tonight.

Though he had to admit, seeing that wonderful blush on Sebastian's face got him all kinds of hot and bothered.

oOoOo

"Hawke, Beautiful, you look amazing," Varric assured his lover as they stood in the large ballroom of whichever Noble So-and-So they were being forced to visit with tonight. "Quit tugging at the dress, or everyone will think you've been to a bad tailor. I send a lot of business his way, so I get a good discount. Don't want a bunch of nobles ruining that."

Hawke's mouth opened in mock disgust. "Varric!" she chastised, grinning despite herself.

"Come, now, Beautiful," Varric replied, smoothly changing the subject, "You've still yet to meet the host of tonight's gala. We'll surely disappoint if we don't hear them out. Though I don't know why we have to bother. You should just eat all of their fancy meats and cheeses and then tell them 'no' as you walk out the door. And maybe throw in a thank you for good measure."

Hawke snickered. "If only it were that easy," she sighed. Varric took her hand and led her into a small alcove, where the host and hostess stood talking with the Seneschal.

Bran noticed Hawke and Varric approaching, and begrudgingly made introductions. If the nobles noticed, they never let on. "Viscount Hawke, this is Lord and Lady Elspeth. They are funding a trade route with the dwarves of Orzammar, and under King Bhelen's rule, trying to reintegrate the surface dwarves back into their lineages."

Varric's ears perked up at this, and he was suddenly curious as to the approach these nobles were taking. And more importantly, what was in it for them? "That sounds like a divine plan," he began, quickly engaging the lord in conversation. Hawke tried not to yawn with boredom, and politely accepted a tour of the house and grounds from the lady.

Lady Elspeth was a chatty older woman, and happily rambled on about the house and grounds, and what her husband and children had accomplished. Hawke really did not mind the snooty parties, it was the forced advertising the hosts always smothered her with that bothered her. She was still trying to decide if she was grateful to have not grown up noble.

Lady Elspeth's older son was a minor lord living in Tantervale, apparently responsible for a small number of charity organizations meant to assist children and refugees. Her daughter was married to some other noble's son, and from the sounds of it only good for childbearing. Well, if that's what she wants to do with her life, Hawke mused to herself, shrugging her shoulders, I suppose that's okay then.

"What of your younger son? Eric, you said was his name?" Hawke inquired politely. She found very soon after her installation as Viscount that people loved to brag on their children.

Lady Elspeth's face fell immediately, and her eyes began to water. Hawke almost regretted asking. "He is no longer with us," she said softly, obviously struggling to keep from crying. "He fell in the battle of Kirkwall. He was a mage in the Circle, and went with the others to fight in the Chantry…"

Hawke fought down a sigh. She just had to open her big mouth. Instead she awkwardly patted the lady's arm and offered an equally awkward smile. This seemed to do the trick, and Lady Elspeth quickly returned to her tour.

Varric finally hunted the two ladies down some time later, finding them in the house's gardens, Hawke deeply engaged in conversation about the gardens and the different foliage growing there. He gently reminded Hawke that it was time for them to depart, and politely exchanged goodbyes with the lord and lady.

Hawke took his hand in hers as they descended the steps. "Did you know that her garden began as three juniper bushes, some sunflowers, and a bed of pansies? It was a wedding gift from her father. And now look at it. Apparently Lord Elspeth adds to it each year as an anniversary gift. It was simply stunning."

Varric chuckled. "It was stunning. But it pales in comparison to my lovely escort for the evening."

Hawke rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, Varric! You're going to make me blush."

Varric's laugh was deep and rich. "Well, it's generally not considered polite for me to make you pant and scream my name in public, so I'll settle for a blush."

Hawke laughed with him, tugging him along behind her eagerly as they traveled the last short distance to the Hawke Estate.

oOoOo

"Hawke, this is the second time this week you've had clothes altered. What's going on?" Isabela asked from her seat at Hawke's desk. She eyed her friend closely. "And you've not had a drink at all recently. I know the swill at the Hanged Man is awful, but even you're good for a drink or two occasionally…"

Hawke turned to face Isabela just in time to see the pirate's face light up with recognition, the seamstress taking her measurements oblivious to their conversation.

"You're knocked up!" Isabela exclaimed with glee. "Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid you were going to run off and become a cloistered sister or something."

Hawke tilted her head back and laughed with mirth. "Heavens, no! I'm only just beginning to settle in as Viscount. I certainly don't need anything else to worry over."

"You're going to have your hands full soon," Isabela quipped. "So, when were you planning on telling everyone?"

Hawke sighed contemplatively. "We were thinking tomorrow night. Everyone is planning to get together for Wicked Grace, so it seemed like as good a time as any."

Isabela shrugged noncommittally. "I guess I can wait until then. But not a moment longer, so you better spill tomorrow night!"

Hawke sighed. Only Isabela would do something like that. She laughed softly. "Alright, alright, tomorrow for sure. And if not you can stand on the roof of the tallest building and shout it to everyone who walks by."

With the most serious expression Hawke had ever seen Isabela muster, the alluring and decidedly not-pregnant rouge replied, "That's a very bad idea, Hawke. You're not only a noble now, you're also the Viscount. Can you imagine the repercussions of an announcement like that just carelessly flung about? Varric will have to hire the Red Iron mercenaries instead of the urchins from Darktown."

Hawke gaped at her friend. She had always known there was a business- and good sense-side to Isabela, but this was the first she had seen it. Instead of a verbal reply she just nodded her head.

Being naturally vivacious, Isabela broke the morose mood with a giddy, "But, that doesn't mean that our friends can't all celebrate and enjoy the good news. I just hope it's a girl. So much I can teach her."

"I guess word will get around soon enough, anyway. Might as well enjoy it while we can," Hawke smiled back.

oOoOo

Their usual Saturday meeting for Wicked Grace was just beginning. Varric peered about the room, noting the newcomer to their little gang. He was a lanky, scrawny elf sitting with Merrill, his typical black hair and unusually dark skin seeming odd in the crowded suite. Naturally, Varric knew all about Alwin that his employees could find. And a little more. He knew that Alwin started trying to woo Merrill not much more than a month ago, he worked in the Bone Pit as one of numerous employees for Hawke (217 to be exact), and had once been a member of another group of Dalish Elves from Starkhaven, but was taken to the Circle when captured at the age of 14. Like many mages in the Circle, Alwin left the gallows after the battle in Kirkwall, and, because the Dalish nearby had already moved on, went to work at the Bone Pit. An odd job for a mage to take up, but a job no less.

The hard labor was doing nothing to build up a muscular frame for the poor elf. But Merrill was obviously smitten, and if Daisy liked him, Varric was going to give him the third degree before he okayed it.

Varric unconsciously flexed his arm, comparing it to Alwin's smaller build. For a lanky, lean elf the kid had some big guns. Maybe swinging a pickaxe in the mines was paying off after all.

"All that exercise you've been getting with Hawke looks like it's working out for you," Isabela trilled from her usual seat to Varric's right side. She stared at his still flexed arm and gave him an exaggerated wink as she added, "I can see that she's also benefiting from your workout."

For the first time in many years of memory Varric blushed a deep crimson from embarrassment. He figured he turned red as roses, at least, since Anders shot him a concerned look. "Are you feeling well, Varric? Isabela didn't spike your drink or anything did she?"

"Now, Anders, why would I do something like that?" Isabela retorted, feigning offense.

"Because you've been trying to bed the dwarf since you met him, and now that he's dating Hawke you're all the more jealous. I can just never tell of who, Varric or Hawke," Anders replied with a smirk.

"Both, really," Isabela shrugged. "They won't invite me for a threesome." She crossed her arms so that her breasts were even more enhanced than typical, and drew her lips into a fantastic pout. Both Anders and Varric let out a deep belly laugh when Fenris grabbed her roughly and kissed her hard on the lips.

"You know how much I hate it when you say things like that," he mumbled when he finally pulled away.

Isabela resumed her pout. "I only do it because I get such a sexually charged reaction from you, Love," she whined.

Varric cleared his throat loudly before Fenris could do more than roll his eyes. "Blondie, go get Corff to send up a round of drinks," he said, tossing a few gold pieces to the mage, "And tell him to give us the usual."

"So, that's stale ale for everyone except Fenris, who'd like Aggregio, and to tell any inquiring minds that we're not here, we all died in a horrible mine mishap?" Anders clarified unnecessarily.

"You got it." The dwarf gave a wink to Anders.

Isabela grilled the new kid as the group waited for their drinks and the latecomers (always Aveline and Donnic) to arrive.

"So," the sultry pirate began, "What's your favorite undergarment for our dear, sweet kitten?"

Varric briefly wished his skin were darker, since Alwin's complexion almost concealed the blush entirely. "Well," the elf hesitated, "she does have a pair of red silky knickers I quite like."

"You do?" Merrill perked up. "I wasn't sure if you did, you ripped them off me so fast last night… just discarded them to the ground like a bit of rubbish."

Alwin laughed. "I'm sorry. I guess I just couldn't wait any longer," he said, shrugging abashedly. "You're just so amazing."

"Oh, Merrill! Don't tell me you let someone else deflower you," Isabela pouted. "I was supposed to be your first."

"Aw, Daisy," Varric started when Merrill's cheeks began to burn, "Don't worry about that. Men like sexy underthings, and Rivaini just needs new ideas."

"Thank you very much, Varric," Merrill replied to the table. "I'll try to keep that in mind."

"I'm sorry, Merrill, I didn't intend to embarrass you," Alwin said, leaning toward Merrill and kissing her forehead lightly, "but you just look so amazing in them."

Finally making her presence known – her trip to heave in the lavatory apparently escaping everyone's notice or concern – Hawke laughed lightly as Norah brought in drinks for everyone.

"Varric is particularly fond of a pair that he says reminds him of his two favourite women, myself and Bianca," she told Merrill with a shrug and a pat on the back. "They're kind of an awful colour, and I think he's joking about liking them, but I can't bring myself to toss them, just in case he's serious."

Varric smiled. Hawke always seemed able to put the young elven mage at ease.

"Hawke won't be needing that," Varric told Norah politely when she made to place a second drink in front of Varric's seat, "Give that one to the new kid." Norah gave Varric a mean look but obliged his request. When she was gone Merrill piped up.

"But, Varric, that's awfully mean of you. Why can't Hawke have a drink? She's plenty old enough to be drinking, isn't she? And I think she's perfectly capable of making her own decisions about what she eats or drinks," she asked, her natural innocence and naivety lending her voice its sweetness.

Hawke's light laugh echoed about the crowded room. "Shall we tell them now, Varric?" she asked her dwarven companion, upon whose lap she sat. He just shrugged in answer, while Anders and Isabela shared a grin that barely contained their excitement. "I can't drink, Merrill," Hawke said, smiling at the elf in question, "because Varric is going to be a father."

"With whom?" the elf replied innocently.

"With Hawke, Daisy. Hawke is pregnant," Varric smiled his fatherly smile he reserved just for the elf and for the younger Hawke sister.

Merrill let out the most adorable squeal of excitement Varric had ever heard as she ran around the table to hug both him and Hawke tightly. "Oh, congratulations! I'm so excited for you. It's going to be such a lovely adventure. Oh, I know, I can be your midwife. I helped Keeper Marathari deliver several babies when I was still with the clan. This is going to be so exciting!"

Hawke laughed happily, Merrill's attitude infectious. "Thank you, Merrill, but Anders will be my physician. I'll be certain to have him ask for you if we run into any trouble, though, okay?"

"Oh, it's so exciting. I just can't wait. I hope it's a girl. She'll be so beautiful, just like her mother," Merrill was still sing-songing happily while she walked back to her seat.

"Congratulations," Aveline smiled.

"Congratulations, indeed," Fenris offered, a genuine smile on his lips. "Perhaps someday we'll bring our own young one into the world."

Isabela's shock brought such a round of uproarious laughter from the small crowd that further congratulations were forgotten for several long moments.

"But," Aveline began, "Is it Varric's?"

"Aveline!" Isabela chastised. "How could you be so rude? Of course it's Varric's baby. Right, Hawke?"

Aveline looked duly ashamed. "I only meant because she's human and he's a dwarf, I wasn't sure it was entirely possible."

"All I know is it damn well better be," Varric laughed. "At least I'm pretty sure the only other contender is Rivaini, who might have spiked Hawke's drink. And well, you know, I don't think she could get Hawke like this."

He and Hawke did share a sigh of relief when Anders stepped in. "It most decidedly is, Aveline. Though uncommon, humans and dwarves share enough similar genetic code to produce a healthy, happy baby. And the magical block the baby is putting off matches everyone's favourite dwarf perfectly."

"I see. I'm sorry to have been so rude," Aveline apologized.

"It's alright. It wasn't something I had ever thought could happen, either," Hawke replied nonchalantly. "It was quite a surprise for us, as well."

"Well, then. In honor of your celebration, and as an apology for my wife's outburst, the next round is on me," Donnic offered. Aveline blushed and mumbled another apology.

"Apology accepted," Varric agreed. "The best drink is a free one, I always say."

oOoOo

"Ugh," a blond man traveling with a company of about twenty other Wardens complained loudly as he lay on his very lumpy and incredibly uncomfortable pallet on the ground inside his tent. "I don't miss this. Not at all. That's the one thing I love about being in the palace. I have a bed to sleep in. A nice, comfy bed."

"Oh, Alistair," his female companion smiled. "I think there's more to like about the palace than just a bed."

"Well, there is this unbelievably beautiful noblewoman who still thinks I'm worth lying with in it. You might have heard of her. She goes by the name 'Elissa'. Very lovely woman, she," Alistair replied with his usual smirk and wink. (1)

Elissa could not hold back a soft laugh. "I'll just be glad when we've made it to Kirkwall. As long as we get there before 'the Divine'. This trip is taking much longer than I anticipated. And I'd rather have sex in a bed. Nine or so years ago the cot in your tent was perfectly suitable. But now…"

"But now, while I will still ultimately respect your wishes, I'm just going to pout a lot more until you give in. Because I know that when I kiss you right here," Alistair's voice dropped to a whisper as he spoke, kissing her shoulder just below her neck, "you get just as turned on as me. And when I do this," he continued, trailing a line of soft kisses downward toward her breasts.

"Sometimes I wish I could hate you," Elissa replied laughingly.

When both were redressed only in their smallclothes, a loud, rumbling commotion shook the ground beneath them.

"Commander!" a man shouted from across the camp, interrupting her next words, "Commander Theirin, darkspawn have been spotted nearby!"

"Nathaniel, please, it's just Elissa to you," she called back, still after the Howe to just refer to her informally.

She turned to face Alistair as they put on their armor and sighed. "I almost wish I'd never let you talk me into being the Warden-Commander…"

"You killed an Archdemon. What's a few more darkspawn?" Alistair offered amusedly.

oOoOo—RN—oOoOo

Notes:

1 – I prefer to use the default names for characters like Hawke and the Warden from Origins. I also try to leave the details of their appearance to the reader, because my Hawke has long, bright red hair and purple eyes, but someone else's Hawke might have short, cropped blonde hair and natural blue eyes. I will do the same with the Warden, though she will be Elissa Cousland (the default noble female), and she will have become queen alongside Alistair (which you probably figured out already, but just in case). As far as if specific clothes or something are relevant, I will detail that.

Also, tell me your opinion on boy/girl, and who the baby would favor. :)