Aedan dreamed:
The scene was still and so very bright, the only sound the crunch of his own footsteps over icy snow. He was climbing a steep path, the snow swept into high drifts against the trees lining each side, sometimes exposing the wooden beams that had been set into the earth for traction. Except for the work of the wind, the path had not been cleared or traveled in some time. He paused to look up, the mist of his warm breath puffing into the cold air before his face. There was a break in the trees just ahead as the path appeared to crest the hill. He felt a sense of wellness and was enjoying the mild exertion of the climb. He'd been cooped up too long waiting for the storm to pass.
As he gained the top of the path, a village square opened before him and there was that nagging sense of familiarity again. He turned his head about, noting that the houses seemed deserted, more mounds of snow were piled against disused doorways and shuttered windows. To his right the path continued up another hill, heading further into the mountains, to his left it wandered through the village to a small dock which overlooked a frozen lake. He turned right and continued up the path a vague idea forming of checking the view from the top.
This path had been more protected from the wind and he had to pause often, testing the depth of the snow with his staff before simply wading through the more shallow drifts. He finally reached the top and before him stood a large building…a chantry? He remembered this building, though it had not been half hidden by snow the last time he'd been here. Where was he? He walked around the side of the building to take in the view he sought. It was breathtaking. To his right the mountain continued to incredible heights, the peak obscured by passing clouds. To his left he could see back down over the village, the small dock, the lake, and down the mountain path into the foothills. Breathtaking indeed.
He returned to the front of the building and leaned upon the heavy wooden doors. With a protest of disused hinges one door cracked open and he slipped inside. It was dim and cold. The windows were small and high, letting in very little light. There were candles to the left and he fumbled to light one, not willing to shed his mittens until he found some warmth.
He spent some time exploring the deserted chantry. It consisted of a large main hall and two side rooms, one to either side of the altar. The right hand side comprised a library and he flipped through a few volumes and opened one or two drawers out of curiosity before returning to the main hall and proceeding to explore the room to the left. This area included a bedroom, a study and a small fire place. He immediately set to lighting a fire, then shed his cloak and mittens and pulled a blanket from the bed to wrap about his shoulders as he sat to warm himself.
Sitting before the fire evoked more memories and he began to experience the feeling of déjà vu. He felt a stirring in his gut, and heard a gasp of surprise. It had felt as if his stomach had flipped over. He put his hands over his belly and looked down. Morrigan's hands. He was not as surprised this time, he'd come to recognise the sensation of traveling with her and found himself more alarmed at the odd sensation in 'their' gut.
"And there he is. Did you feel him Aedan? That was our child, he has discovered himself and he moves! He is growing a little more every day." Morrigan said. Her hands moved over her belly in a soft caress and Aedan could feel the slight thickness her middle had acquired, a rounding of the stomach that was just noticeable.
Morrigan continued to talk to him, sounding almost…conversational. "We weathered the storm together and now we will thrive. T'will not be long now, perhaps before the summer."
She paused and the familiar push began, "You should not keep checking up on me, you know…" she sounded wistful as she faded away.
Aedan sat upright in bed and clutched at his middle, a vague sense of nausea gripping him. His hands felt only the taught expanse of muscle that was his own stomach, yet he felt no relief. Swinging his legs from under the blanket, he got up and stumbled to his desk. He poured himself a cup of water, his hands shaking, and drank quickly, attempting to wash away the bile rising in his throat. He swallowed once, twice and took a tentative breath. The dizziness and sickness slowly passed and he sat heavily in the chair beside him.
He could not gather his thoughts for a while as his mind presented flashes of the path, the village, the deserted chantry, then kept returning to the sensation in Morrigan's belly, the child, his child. Finally it clicked and he dropped the cup he was holding, starting as it hit the floor with a loud clatter. He knew where Morrigan was…she was in Haven.
He stooped to pick up the cup and glanced at the windows. The sun was well up and he was surprised the sound of voices from the courtyard below and the clatter of weapons from the practice field had not woken him sooner. Dashing his face with water, he donned a loose shirt and pants before setting to the task of fastening on his armour.
He'd been in Amarathine nearly a month now and knew he'd chanced to sleep in on the one day a week he wasn't scheduled for a morning workout with the recruits. The number of recruits has steadily shrunk over the past couple of weeks which did not greatly displease any of the three wardens. Of those that remained, five had fought darkspawn before defending their own land from the encroaching Blight and these men were seasoned and hardened, not likely to give up. He was ready to offer them each a place with the Grey Wardens.
The remaining recruits comprised eight men and two women, Delilah and the elven maid she'd arrived with. Aedan knew the girl, she had been in the employ of the Howe family her entire life probably, and was especially close with Delilah. He'd been surprised the first time he'd seen her fight – the two women obviously spent a lot of time sparring together and were of nearly equal skill. He idly wondered if either of the elder Howes had known their daughter had been teaching one of her maids to fight, and grinned.
His own friendship with Delilah had grown into an easy camaraderie. There had been the occasional awkward moment such as when they had been reminiscing in front of Zevran and Kayley, the elven girl. The particular incident they'd been remembering had happened the same day they had finally made love for the first time. Afterwards he and Delilah had exchanged an interesting look, one noticed by both Zevran and Kayley. The only moment more uncomfortable than this had been when he had told Delilah about Leliana. It had been a difficult conversation, not one he had intended to have, but women had a way of bringing up subjects men would rather leave untouched.
She'd sat beside him as the wardens and recruits relaxed in the hall one evening and asked if he would take a walk with her. Sensing she had something to say and that she wanted privacy, he agreed and they slipped out into the courtyard, heading for the practice field.
Once they had passed the gates, she'd laid a hand on his arm and he turned. She looked shy all of a sudden and he'd guessed she was going to tell him she was leaving, that she no longer wanted to be a Grey Warden. That was something he would have understood.
Instead she came out with, "Aedan…do you ever think about what might have happened, had things been different?"
He raised his brows in surprise and replied, "Different? You mean the Blight, or…" he trailed off, gesturing with his hand. They both knew he meant – before your father murdered my family and then I killed your father.
She shrugged lightly and said, "Well, both."
He thought a minute, scratching the side of his head, he'd taken to cropping his black hair short against his scalp again, it was more comfortable in his helm than the thick waves he'd inherited from this mother.
"I suppose things might have continued as they were, though the Blight was already underway when…I would have been called up to fight eventually I think."
She rolled her eyes and smiled, "Always thinking with your sword," she said and batted him lightly on the shoulder.
He smiled and caught her hand, holding it a moment before releasing her fingers. He asked, "What's on our mind?"
"I was talking about us, Aedan. We were, well I always assumed we'd be married." She blushed a little and hurried on, "Our families certainly seemed to approve, we were left alone in one another's company often enough." She grinned and winked at him and he couldn't help grinning back as he remembered just how often they'd managed time alone in the year before everything had changed.
Aedan's grin faltered a little as he finally realized what Delilah had been asking. He saw that she was looking intently at him and he shifted his gaze to his feet. Taking a deep breath, he tried to spell out his thoughts, hoping to make this as clean as possible. He took her hand and began, "Delilah, there is no doubt in my mind that we…" he stopped.
She looked so hopeful that he hesitated before starting again, "Delilah, my heart is in Denerim with a woman who has become very dear to me, and though our friendship is a great joy, it cannot be more. I love another." Leliana. He missed Leliana so much it was sometimes a physical sensation. Her weekly letters, while wonderfully entertaining and completely endearing, were a meager substitute.
Delilah extracted her hand from his and stepped back. She was quiet and her face was sad, regretful even, but she was composed. She nodded and said, "I understand," and walked slowly away.
Aedan had worried that the renewed friendship would suffer, but surprisingly the next day Delilah, though quiet, was as amicable as ever. She only referred to their conversation once, pausing by his side that afternoon to say quietly, "She is a lucky woman, I wish you both well." They had nodded to one another and Delilah had moved off to resume her duties.
Aedan's mind came back to the present as he finished with the last of his armour. He picked up his weapons and stepped into the hall. After grabbing some sweet rolls from the kitchen he strode outside just a fast courier appeared at the gates. He found himself swallowing back bile for the second time that day, his thoughts racing quickly to the worst news he could imagine first: Something had happened to Leliana.
The news was dire. The Western Hills, which had been nearly decimated during the Blight, was still suffering from recurring darkspawn attacks and Arl Wulff had urgently petitioned Denerim for assistance. Alistair had sent word to Amaranthine hoping the wardens could meet Oghren on the road and help not only eradicate the vicious band of darkspawn, but discover why they were still in the area.
Aedan sent runners to every corner of the estate and returned to his study to pen a quick response to Alistair. He planned to be on the road to the Western Hills that very day.
