Chapter 13 - Family Matters
Cass sighed deeply. Part of it was sheer relief and blissful relaxation after an hour of gentle, sensuous massage at Nathaniel's capable hands. The other part was her increasing frustration with the way her body was changing. She felt huge and heavy, and even the almond oil that Nathaniel was applying so generously to her swollen stomach couldn't entirely prevent ugly tears from appearing in her skin. She had never felt so unattractive before.
Not that Nathaniel was complaining. All through the pregnancy he had been sweet and understanding, doing his best to relieve all the little aches and pains, to provide everything she was craving. And he seemed happy enough about her bigger breasts, hardly able to keep his hands and lips off them. Now he was leaning back, a contented expression on his face.
"Anything else I can do for you?" He gave her a suggestive look, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Oh, come on," Cass sneered. "I look like an overweight Bronto. You can't possibly tell me you want me like this."
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. "Can't I? Then how do you explain this?" He took her hand and guided it down to his hardening length.
"You're half starved?" Cass grumbled. "Only explanation I can think of."
"Horseshit." His eyes darkened. "I do want you, Cass. More than ever. You're so beautiful."
His hands were stroking down the curve of her belly, caressing the taut skin, but Cass pushed them away, shaking her head. "Honestly, Nathaniel, I'm not in the mood." But when she heard his disappointed sigh, her face softened. "Still, there's no need for you to suffer..."
She reached out for the oil bottle and grinned at his surprised face. "Just relax. I'm sure you'll enjoy this."
Sending a silent thank you to Isabela for the few pointers the pirate had given her a long time ago, during a particularly memorable girls' night out at the Hanged Man, she wrapped her fingers around him and let a generous amount of oil trickle over her hand. Nathaniel hissed with surprised pleasure as she let her hands slide deeper, cupping his balls, making sure the oil was distributed evenly. Then she let her hand wander up his shaft again, with considerably more pressure than she normally would have used.
"Maker, Cass!" He leant back against the wall, his legs spread a little, giving her free access.
"Relax." Ignoring his amused snort, Cass continued her stroking, up and down, increasing pressure and tempo until he grew tense in her hands, then backing down again, keeping him just on the edge for a deliciously long stretch of time.
"Cass." His eyes were closed and fine droplets of sweat appeared on his forehead. "You..."
She smiled at the blissful expression on his face. He was usually so concerned about her, so eager to make everything perfect for her. Tonight was just about him, however, and she enjoyed being able to do this for him, more than she had anticipated. The total abandonment with which he delivered himself to her caresses, his gasps and sighs when her exploring hands found a particularly sensitive spot, the visible effort it cost him to keep still as she took him close to completion and then denied it to him again and again - it all combined to make the experience a sheer pleasure for her as well.
When she finally took pity on him and closed her fingers tight around his tip, adding just enough friction, just enough pressure to make it impossible for him to hold on, his reaction was exquisite to watch. The way his body arched up as he came, the expression on his face, the low, hoarse moan torn from his lips... Cass couldn't hold back a triumphant laugh at the sight of him coming so utterly undone in her hands.
He laughed, too, as soon as he had recovered enough, and reached for a towel to clean them both up. "Thanks, love. I think I'll sleep well tonight."
Pulling the sheets over them, he carefully settled next to her, spooning her body with his, his hand settled on her belly, protective and warm.
A few days later she was sitting on her favourite seat next to the window overlooking the courtyard. For one brief moment she allowed herself to think about Fenris' fate. With no news from him in the past few months, she had to assume he was gone, dead from his injuries or frozen to death in the inhospitable mountains. Gone.
Most of the time she somehow managed to live with the loss, locking the pain away deep inside her, focussing on her life at Nathaniel's side. Cass had always made a habit of looking to the future rather than the past, to deal with the matters at hand rather than the ones she couldn't change. Yet the future carried its share of worries as well.
When Nathaniel arrived back from the Keep, he sat down at her side and took her feet into his lap, gently rubbing her swollen ankles. "What's the matter, love? You look unhappy."
She nearly snapped at him then, feeling irrationally irritated with him for being so nice to her. Honestly, sometimes she would have preferred a proper quarrel, just to let off steam. But then she relented in the face of his genuine concern.
"Nothing, really." She sighed. "Just... I'm really not sure I'll be able to deal with all this. Being a mother... I don't have the faintest idea how to do this, Nathaniel."
He laughed. "Is that all? I don't think anybody has, with their first child. How hard can it be, Cass? People do it all the time."
She frowned. "That's not what I mean. I guess, I just really don't want to end up like my own mother." There. She had said it.
Nathaniel's face grew serious. "Would that be so bad? What was she like, Cass?"
She took a moment to consider her answer. "Difficult. When you first met her you'd have said she was the sweetest person on Thedas. Until she started to complain. She used to complain about everything. Our life in Lothering, then Gamlen's hut in Kirkwall. Everything was less than she deserved, but she never actually made an attempt to change any of it. Instead she would always blame someone else. First my father, then me."
"She came from a noble family, didn't she? How did she end up with an apostate mage in the first place?" Nathaniel sounded genuinely curious.
"She met him at one of the Viscount's receptions where he was performing tricks for the guests. She fell in love with him, got pregnant, and the two ran off together." Cass made a face. "It was her own decision, really, but somehow she always managed to make my father feel guilty for it. Not that she ever said it aloud, mind you."
Cass snorted. "Anyway, when he died, she immediately became the picture of helplessness. Everything became my responsibility, and she blamed me for everything. Bethany's death, the situation in Kirkwall, Carver's problems... It was all my fault. Never hers, or Carver's for that matter. Her little prince could do no wrong. But then he wasn't a mage..."
She realized how bitter she sounded and shook herself. "Still, she didn't deserve what happened to her. Nobody would." Cass closed her eyes. For a moment the memories of that night in Kirkwall threatened to surface and she pushed them back with a visible effort, turning to Nathaniel. "What about your mother? You never talk about her."
Nathaniel shrugged. "There isn't much to say. She died a long time ago, and I hardly knew her." He took Cass' hand between his, warming it. "Being an Arlessa was the main focus of her life. I grew up with a nanny, and only saw her for official functions. She usually wasn't particularly happy to see me, anyway. I wasn't as dashing as Thomas, or as cute as Delilah. She loved my sister, I think, but she just wasn't interested in me at all."
"And your father?" Cass asked. "I know he did some pretty horrible things, but he can't have been a monster all the time."
Nathaniel sighed. "He wasn't an exceptionally bad father. As long as we did what he wanted, he was friendly enough, took us boys out riding and hunting. If we didn't obey, we'd get a whipping. Thomas was a lot better at pleasing him than I was, though, so I got rather more than my fair share of the whippings."
Cass felt a surge of fury at his father, for being so blind to his son's obvious qualities. Nathaniel must have seen it on her face because he drew her closer with a sigh.
"Don't bother, Cass. He's dead, and so is Thomas, and all this is long past. And you are no more destined to become your mother than I am to become my father. Loghain managed to teach me that much, at least." He gently kissed her forehead. "If we can't look to our parents for help, I guess that means we will just have to make it up as we go along."
Cass made a face and looked down at her stomach. "It doesn't seem we have a choice at this point. So I take it you don't want to call him Rendon if it's a boy?"
"Maker, no!" Nathaniel looked genuinely disgusted. "But why not name him after your father? Malcolm? We could call him Mal. Assuming it's a 'he.'"
"I have a feeling it is." Cass frowned. "Mal. You know, that doesn't sound too bad, actually. And my father was... alright, I guess. Strong. Witty. Clever. Slightly crazy, but kind-hearted."
Nathaniel smiled at the way her face had grown soft at the memory. "Well, you still have a few weeks to think about it."
But as it turned out, the baby had other ideas. Just two days later, still two weeks from her due date, Cass was woken in the middle of the night by a persistent ache in her lower belly. When she shook Nathaniel, it took him only moments to be wide awake.
"Already?" He didn't waste any time in getting Wynne, then spent the following six hours at her back, holding her through the increasingly forceful contractions. Cass did her best to follow Wynne's advice, breathing deeply, trying to go along with the slow progress of things, but her patience was wearing thin. It simply wasn't in her nature to wait for things to happen, and she wanted so badly for everything to be over.
Still, the baby wouldn't be rushed, and by the time Wynne told her to push she was so exhausted that all she could muster was anger. Anger at Wynne for asking yet another effort from her. Anger at the baby for taking so blighted long to work its way out. Anger at Nathaniel for being so terribly sweet and understanding. By the time the little head was finally crowning, she was screaming invectives at all of them, too furious to mind the pain any longer. Wynne just smiled to herself, but Nathaniel visibly flinched at the profanities streaming from her lips.
And then, with a final, almost desperate push, it was over. There was the oddest sensation of something scrabbling between her legs, and then the pain was gone, and Wynne was wrapping the little one into a blanket, handing the bundle to Nathaniel after a quick, cursory examination.
"It's a fine, healthy boy," she remarked.
"Let me see him." Nathaniel knelt down at her side, and Cass looked down at the little head in trepidation.
The baby was small, with a thick head of black hair, and his eyes were a clear, light blue.
Cass frowned. "He's all scrunched-up. He looks like... Carver, I guess? But why are his eyes blue? None of us has blue eyes. It doesn't make sense."
She realized she was shaking. A small part of her had hoped the baby was Fenris', just to have something of him that would remain. Yet at the same time she was pragmatic enough to wish for a less complicated outcome. In either case, she had been so certain she would know once the baby was born. But now she found she was none the wiser.
"Most babies have blue eyes at first," Wynne remarked. "It will take a while until the colour settles."
Cass swallowed. "Can you tell if he's half Elven?"
Nathaniel had been crooning softly at the baby, his lips pressed to the tiny head, a dreamy smile on his face. Now his head snapped up. "Cass, please. I told you-"
"No, there's no way," Wynne interrupted with a cool, humourless smile. "Even if the elf is his father, he'll be fully human. Maybe slightly more graceful and good-looking than the average Fereldan, but nothing else."
The baby had found Nathaniel's finger and begun to suck on it greedily. He laughed delightedly and carefully placed him in her arms. "It doesn't matter. He's beautiful, Cass. Perfect. And hungry."
And indeed the baby latched on greedily to her breast as soon as she put his little mouth close to it. Cass flinched briefly in pain, but then she saw the look on Nathaniel's face, full of love and tenderness and she closed her eyes and relaxed.
"Maybe you're right." She took Nathaniel's hand and held it tightly.
Their son. Little Mal. Maybe it really didn't matter. Right now, life was good.
Many thanks to zevgirl for giving me the little shove I needed to make this better ;-). And thanks to katschabareb for pointing out that Nate is indeed the eldest Howe child.