Isabela was pretty much ready to club Hawke over the head and drag him to bed. "You've been awake for about thirty hours." She growled. "Let it go. There's nothing you can do for her right now."

Hawke made a discontented noise and flopped over onto his back on the bed. "What a mess."

"They're grown men, she's not stupid. They'll figure it out."

"I don't think she's stupid, but she doesn't know-"

"Some things are instinctual, okay? If she wants any of them, she'll let them know, the other will deal with it. One day at a time. I don't think she's going to be breaking anyone's heart right now."

"That's a simplification."

"Is it?"

"Yes. Those three have just realized they have a child. That's news enough to scare a man out of his senses. And surely it's instinctual for a man to try and solidify his status as a father? And by default, the partner of the mother? Oh, Maker." He flopped over, moaning into the bedspread. "I think Zev has the maturity to deal with this. To be brutally honest I'd be amazed if he doesn't have children scattered around somewhere. Anders – Maker, I wish it'd just been Anders. He would have taken to the idea like a fish to water. And he's developing something for her. There's trouble brewing. It's going to be horrendous."

"You know if she said no to Fenris he'll back off."

"I know, but I'm worried she won't. Which will give those two something else to tear each other to shreds over. I'm worried one of thems going to kill the other. They're capable, I know it." He grunted wordlessly into the fabric. "And triplets? Have you ever met anyone who's had triplets?"

"No." Isabela clambered up onto the bed to straddle his back, hands kneading into the base of his neck. "That's the only bit that authentically worries me. That's – a lot of babies to come out of one lady."

"I know." Hawke sighed. "I'm going to talk to Anders. He's delivered a lot of babies, but I wonder if it's a good idea if one of thems his own. At the very least he'll need a skilled helper."

"Yeah. We've got nine months to look into it."

"Eight."

"What?"

"Eight months. Elves have shorter gestation periods, even half elves."

"But what does that mean for –"

"Anders' child is going to be born very early. I'm sure it's occurred to him."

Isabela muttered something foul. "Great. As if he could get more on edge."

"I wish we had someone in the house who'd had children. It'd be good for her to have someone like that."

"I can help her out to the five month period, but after that, she's on her own."

Hawke was silent for a moment. "You were pregnant?"

"Long before you, sweet thing. My husband. Apparently sailing the high seas doesn't do good things for unborn babies."

"I'm sorry, love."

"Oh – that's all right. A long time ago." Isabela's hands stilled. "Can I take your purse tomorrow?"

"You usually ask?"

"Ha, ha. We need to buy her some things."

"We do?"

"Yes. She doesn't own anything right now but some borrowed dresses and the things those boys bought her."

"She can use anything in the house."

"But they're your things."

"It makes a difference?"

"Men. Yes, it makes a difference."

He was silent for a moment. "I'm going to take her to see Orsino, I think."

"Why? He creeps me out."

"He's nice enough. She's going to go see him, I think it's inevitable. If it's going to happen, he and I are setting some ground rules." He paused. "And no ones telling Fenris."

Anders was surprisingly chirpy when she came downstairs to greet him in the morning. He kissed her on the cheek without any kind of awkwardness or hesitation, and she happily kissed him back, grateful for his presence and his easy friendliness. He was holding some intimidating looking books under one arm, and when he suggested that maybe they go out for a while first before getting into the daunting task of expectant motherhood, she agreed immediately. She'd bathed and used his ointment before emerging, and the difference was incredible. She could walk with only slight discomfort and the limp was far more minor. And after three days indoors – with the one excursion of fleeing into the cellars and out to Darktown – she was absolutely ready to get some fresh air. It was dizzily bright outside, and she instinctively stuck to Anders' side, overwhelmed by the sights and smells of the totally unfamiliar Hightown. It was beautiful, all tall columns and ivy and sea air, scented with the soft smell of new leather and steel and perfumes. "Is Anders a common name?" She asked him, deciding that holding his arm and slowing him down was preferable to trying to keep up with his long legged stride.

"Not overly. Why do you ask?"

"I was reading something last night. About the Fereldan Blight. And a city called Amaranthine."

"Oh?" His voice was rather carefully bland.

"The Warden Commander was working with an Apostate called Anders, who'd escaped the Fereldan Circle of Magi seven times."

"Did he now."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Dare I ask?"

"You can ask. I might not answer." He was uncommonly jovial, and she elbowed him lightly. "Come on. They write stories about you? That's amazing!"

"Any idiot can have stories written about him. If he's in the right place at the right time. I just happened to fall into the Warden Commander's lap at a time when she badly needed backup. And Grey Wardens." He touched his ear self-consciously, and she noticed the old mark of a long closed piercing. "I was a very different man, then."

"What was she like?"

"Her name was Xerenes. She was – small. Pretty. She was an elf, and a mage, the best I've ever seen. But she was shorter than you, even, and looked like you could snap her with a sharp word. A certain quality that made you instinctively pipe down when she went to speak. I miss her."

"What happened to her?"

"I left Amaranthine – and we knew it was too dangerous to keep in contact. I've just trusted that somewhere she's still killing fools and hassling Alistair. She enjoyed that."

"As in the King?"

"That's right. I only met him once or twice. A nice man. Surprisingly chirpy. For a king, I mean."

"Wow." Her head was spinning a bit, trying to place her knowledge of those events into the sketchy map her had in her head. "So – you've come a long way."
"As in, traveling? I'd agree with that. We all have reasons for distancing ourselves from former lives." He scratched at his chin, evidently uncomfortable with the line of question. "You would have read about Zevran, then."

"What?"

"He was with the Warden when they fought the Archdemon."

"That was him?"

He looked amused. "There's not that many Zevran's running around."

"They only ever called him the Antivan Elf. They didn't even say he was an assassin!"

"Well, in his line of work he keeps personal details out of bards hands."

"So – you knew him back then?"

"No, sadly. He went back to Antiva when the Archdemon died, I met the Warden a few months later. But she talked of him. She was very, um, taken with him."

"In – that way?" He was a menace.

"No, the Warden preferred women, I'm fairly sure. But that didn't stop her from being quite impressed by him." He looked away, pointing down the stairs in front of them. "That looks out over the harbor. And the ladies dresses and shoes and things are all down there."

"Oh, I'm not buying anything."

"That may be, but I'm under orders from Isabela." He absentmindedly felt at his pockets. "She gave me Hawkes purse – ah, here it is."

"I'm not using their money." She said stiffly.

"Lily –"

"Anders – please. It's humiliating enough that I'm living on everyone else's mercy, but they aren't going to buy me things as well. That's just – no."
"Isn't Isabela going to want her hairbrush back? Her brushes? That dressing gown?"

She went red. "Anders –"

"I'm not trying to rile you up. You need your own things. We can find you some things to look after around the Estate if you feel the need to help out. But don't throw their assistance back in their faces. It's not going to work. They'll just buy you things without your input." He gave her a hesitant smile. "And it's been a very long time since I've helped a lady buy a dress. I've been told I'm reasonably good at it."

She laughed, one hand going up to her warm face. "Are you going to braid my hair? Paint my toenails?"

"If you'll let me."

She'd refused to let him help her carry things back. He'd tried – a few times – and she'd leveled a look at him that suggested she was not going to be the kind of expectant mother who let herself be confined to bed. It had been a mixed experience for him. The pleasure of her company, the light, pleasant diversion from the blood and fear and violence of his usual day to day activities. He caught her looking sideways at him a few times, her lashes low, a soft blush on her cheeks, and he was taken aback, then shyly pleased. It was nice to know she thought of that night at least a fraction as much as he did. It had been a long time since the last time he'd been with a woman. He could barely remember her face. She'd been an elf – a first for him – and very slender and delicate. She'd disappeared in the night, as most mages did. He wondered what became of her often, and hoped she was somewhere safe. It felt like worlds away from the blonde, young thing at his side, her eyes huge, small fingers knotted into his sleeve. He had moments of guilt that were so strong it was overpowering. How dare he hope that she might grow to feel something for him? How dare he confront her with that now, so early, when she was so scared and unsure and new to everything? It was unfair. But at the same time – he could feel Zevran circling her like a predatory animal. He'd witnessed Fenris's overwhelming anger and helplessness in the face of his own lack of control, and couldn't help but assume that in some form – Maker help her – the elf felt something for her, too. He couldn't stand by and watch that. Watch her gather scars? Watch her withdraw and grow quiet, like he's seen in every beaten wife in his clinic? No. Never. She was too important. All he could hope was that she'd make an informed decision and hold off doing anything too stupid in the meantime. She appeared to have intelligence, but some allowances had to be made for youth and unfamiliarity. She was biting her nails, and her fingers in her mouth were deeply distracting. "Did you want to head back?" He asked, noticing how she was gingerly shifting her weight around. His lotions only went so far, and logic said she was still sore. She favored him with a smile. "Um – maybe. If you don't mind. I need to sit down for a while."

He guided her back towards the Hightown Estates, moving to shield her from the eyes of the group of templars who watched them pass with pointed interest. Anders' skin prickled. He hated how known he was now, and wondered at what point Hawke's protection ended. He had things he needed to see done, things that he wanted to live for. He thought about his child – their child, and fear squirmed in his gut. He didn't like that they'd just seen her with him. She was vulnerable, something that could be used against him. And against Zevran, if the Crows got their hands on her. And against Fenris, if the Tevinters got her. It made him feel sick. She wasn't a fighter, at all. What could they do to keep her safe that didn't oppressively smother her? They encountered Sandal waddling out the front door of Hawke's estate, and he insistently took Lily's packages from her. "Enchantment." He told her solemnly, before leading them back into the sleepy warmth of the lounge. Hawke was on his feet, tapping at his chin with a curled hand and looking preoccupied. "There you are." He said impatiently. "I need some logistical mage-help. Merrill's still refusing to see anyone. Anything you need to wrap up this afternoon?"

Anders looked sideways to Lily, a little deflated. "I needed to talk to Lily about the pregnancy."

"It'll wait a day." She said quietly. "I'll probably manage not to do any damage this afternoon."

Hawke nodded. "Good. Sandal, take her things up. Isabela's floating around upstairs, Lily, I think she's been hoping you'll spend some time with her."

Lily gave Hawke a wary look. Hawke's mouth twitched. "I didn't ask. I think she's feeling a bit starved of attention."

Lily touched Anders' arm lightly. "I'll see you later." She said, and gave him a smile. 'Thank you."

The two men watched her go, silent until she disappeared behind Sandal up the stairs. Hawke looked back to him. "Dare I ask?"

"I have no idea what you're asking."

"She seems to like you."

"Oh."

"I would have thought Justice would give you hell for that."
"He's been – quiet. I don't know why."

"That's good, though?"
"It tends to be building to something." He winced. "I haven't told her."

"You didn't tell me until I'd known you for two months. Let's be fair."

"But – you and I hadn't –"

"A good point. You hardly had time to sit her down and talk her through a relationships worth of secrets. Don't be too hard on yourself."

"I'm worried about the others."

"So far, Anders, everyone's been behaving extremely well under trying circumstances. My only concerns are yourself and Fenris. Can I ask, for her sake, not to go picking any fights with him?"

"He hurt her!"

"She doesn't see it that way, and if she isn't feeling distraught and violated, it's beneath us to feel it on her behalf."
"But –"

"Anders. She's having the mans child. They need to be on reasonable terms. Leave it be."

Anders folded his arms and glared. Hawke raised one brow. "Are you really going to fight me over this?"

"Was there something else you wanted to speak to me about?"

Hawke held the stare for a moment, then chose to let the matter drop. "I'm trying to coordinate something to bring Saul out of hiding."

"The slaver?"
"That's the one. As far as we can tell he's holed up in the Blooming Rose. The Madame doesn't want him there, so she asked me to ferret him out. Conveniently enough I've been trying to figure out where he is. So the next step is to try and tempt him out into the open."

"How do you propose that?"

"Have you ever been a patron at the Rose?"

Anders snorted. "When you treat as many whores diseases as I do, Hawke, brothels lose their appeal."

Hawke nodded. "A good point. And noted. I might have to ask you to – go in there. Pretend to be a patron. Keep an eye on things."

Anders narrowed his eyes. "Keep an eye on what, exactly?"

"We're going to try and stage a business meeting with him. I'm going to throw Zevran in there and let him talk his way into convincing Saul out into a public place where we can ambush him."

"Really? Zev?"

Hawke smirked. "He doesn't know yet. I'm going to hang one of the Madams whores off his arm and convince him to act like her pimp."

"Some people get all the fun."

"On the upside, we'll make sure theres some girls around you to camouflage you a bit. As it is we're going to have to change your clothes or something."

Anders looked down at his feathered pauldrons and sighed. "A little obvious, am I?"

"I don't want anyone to connect you to me. Zevran luckily isn't known to be one of mine. And he's a reasonable actor."

"And what am I doing, exactly?"

"Nothing, hopefully. Just step in if things get out of hand."

"Who else is involved?"

"Aveline is barmaiding."

Anders looked at him in complete disbelief. "You're joking."

"Not the cute flirty kind, the crowd control kind."

"Ah."

"And Varric will be doing what you are. He's somewhat known there, so he's not going to be stepping in unless completely necessary."

"And you? Isabela?"

"I'm going to be skulking outside in case he tries to make a hasty exist. Isabela and Fenris will be with me. Isabela's banned from the Rose. Fenris is too well known and not very hideable."

"Okay." He scratched at his head. "When is this supposed to be happening?"

"Tonight. He's agreed to meet a man called Calemides at the Rose. You'll have to saunter in and make yourself comfortable beforehand."

"I don't know if I've sauntered in my life."

"That's the spirit." Hawke turned to the staircase. He seemed to have a better sense for when Zevran was soundlessly approaching than the others did. "Come on down, Zev, this concerns you."

"Eavesdropping?" Anders asked Zevran as he comfortably sauntered down the staircase. The elf blinked innocently at him. "I? Surely not. My substantial ears were burning, however."

Hawke leaned back against the mantelpiece. "Guess what, Zev? I'm putting a whore on your arm and sending you to go chat to a slaver. Ideally you're going to convince him to buy the girl."

Zevran raised a brow. "And when exactly does the work portion start?"

"Ha, ha. The mans dangerous, and you're not only going to be responsible for getting out of there safely, but also for the safety of the girl who's agreed to help us. Understand?"

"Perfectly. What is this fair maids name?"

"Roselle. She's the Madame's only fully trusted girl. And she's taking a very substantial risk agreeing to help." Hawke shot Zevran a look. "And no interfering with her. I need everyone focused."

Zevran inclined his head graciously. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Good." Hawke straightened out his gauntlets. "Anders, I need you to lie low today. Stay here if you like, otherwise stay in the clinic. I imagine he's going to have men out in the general Hightown district and I don't want anyone getting a look at either of you." He nodded upstairs. "Lily's with Isabela. Lets leave her alone for a good while?"

Anders glared. "I wasn't going to-"

"Friend." Zevran interrupted. "This is a discussion for you and I, perhaps later. I think we can both agree that she is entitled to seek any of us out if she feels the need and otherwise can be left to her own devices."

Anders folded his arms. He didn't like it when Zevran made sense. It made him assume he was planning something sinister. "Fine."

"Good man." Hawke looked back to Zevran. "I'm fetching Fenris and going to go check on Merrill and meet some Starkhaven royal with a grudge. You two need to stay here and out of sight." He strode towards the parlor, adjusting his cloak as he went. "Try not to upset each other."

Anders and Zevran watched him go, and Zevran folded himself onto the lounge. "Well, then." He said brightly. "I think it has been a good long time since I've seen you drunk, friend. We have time to kill. Make yourself comfortable."