Okay, so, let's all just acknowledge that I'm a horrible human being and enjoy this update that I've finally managed to get together, shall we? XD
Much thanks to my beta, Sylvanaerie, who kicked my butt on this chapter and made me fix all the bad things I did.
Chapter Twenty-One
The best thing about being a newly-married, new installed teyrn in a place like Gwaren, Alistair decided, was that no one actually expected you to do anything. Part of that was due to Gwaren's location. Being so far south, once winter set in, there wasn't much to do. People were mostly housebound, and even on the nicer days they didn't venture very far from the towns. That left little for Alistair to actually oversee except for perhaps a handful of crucial issues that cropped up. The other part was that everyone seemed content to give the newlyweds time to settle in and get used to each other and their home. That led to a great many late nights, even later mornings, and some very interesting explorations of all the keep's nooks and crannies.
There was some adjustment required on Alistair's and Lya's parts now that they were living together. Despite spending most of their free time together before they were married, there was a difference now that they didn't go back to their respective homes each night. They each claimed a few small rooms in the keep, out of the way and apart from each other to treat as their own private little sanctuaries when they began to get on each other's nerves.
But in all honesty, they didn't need them very much at all in those first few months.
Lya was intrigued by her new home, and Alistair did his best to show her everything, occasionally going to his seneschal for more information if she asked about something he didn't know. She made several comments about things she wanted to change in the keep itself, but noted that it would have to wait until the spring when it would be easier to work and have things shipped. Alistair agreed readily. Though he would never say so, he didn't really care what style the furniture was or what color the bedclothes were. As long as they served their purpose, he was fine with almost anything.
His wife also took an interest in the teyrnir, going over the books and records in much the same way Alistair had when he was introduced to it. She asked a few questions—fewer than he'd had, at any rate—and lamented the weather that kept her from exploring the land more fully. They did manage a few short rides through the city itself on the nicer days, and people greeted her rather warmly. Well, warmly for people of Gwaren. He could see that Lya was slightly taken aback by the seemingly cool reception and did his best to assure her that it was all quite normal.
"Are they all like that?" she muttered one afternoon as they headed back to the keep, the sun beginning to sink low on the horizon.
"Yes," he said. "It's fine. They'll warm up in time, don't worry."
"And when exactly can I expect that?"
"I don't know. When they begin doing that with me, I'll let you know."
That earned him a wry grin and a chuckle. Later that evening, sprawled together on a couch with Lya's head on his chest, each reading from a book, Lya asked him, "So is this everything you expected it to be?"
"Hmm?" He closed the book, using his finger to mark his place. "What do you mean?"
"I was just wondering if you liked it here. It's so much quieter than living in Denerim."
"I do. It suits me, I think. I have people to take care of and who rely on me, but not so much so that I need to worry that a single wrong decision will hurt them. As for being quieter…I like it, very much so. I like the city during the rest of the year. It's just big enough that it has everything we need, but it's not as busy and crowded as Denerim. And there's less…pressure. I don't need to worry about every little thing I do being scrutinized."
A thought occurred to him. "Why do you ask?" he questioned, a trace of worry coloring his tone. "Do you not like it? I thought Highever was similar. I know it's bigger than Gwaren, but from what you've said, it seemed just about the…."
He trailed off when he heard her quiet laughter. "Oh, Alistair," she said fondly, wiping at a corner of her eye. "You worry too much. I'm quite happy here. I'd be quite happy anywhere as long as it was with you."
"Flattery,"
"Honesty," she insisted. "This suits me as well, very much so. I just wanted to make sure you were happy."
"Well, it's a bit late to change my mind," he said dryly. "I suppose we could always run away to Orlais and eat cake. And while I do love cake, I think it'd probably be frowned upon."
"Probably." Lya picked up the scrap of silk ribbon she used as her bookmark, placed it between the pages, and set the book carefully down on the floor. Then she did the same with Alistair's book and turned over so that she was braced over his chest. "So, besides more cake, I can think of another way to improve our current situation."
"Oh?" he asked, feeling his pulse begin to race.
"Mmhmm." She leaned down and brushed her lips against his. "And tell you what. If you catch me before I make to the bedroom, I'll even tell you."
And with that, she leapt off the couch, racing out of the room with Alistair hot on her heels. Her laughter echoed through the hallways and even though Alistair didn't catch her before she made it to their bedroom, she told him anyway.
A heavy packet of letters was unceremoniously dropped into Alistair's lap as Lya walked around the end of the small couch and tucked herself into the other seat. She drew her legs up, and then slid her stockinged feet—her cold stockinged feet—under Alistair's thigh with a contended hum.
"What this?" he asked, sliding off the thick twine that bound the letters together.
"Mail," she said absently, already tearing into her own packet. "It came on the ship from Denerim that docked in port this morning. I guess with the break in the weather, Maric decided to risk that we weren't iced in."
Alistair nodded. "Good." The cold that settled over Gwaren, freezing everything, even the port, had loosened its grip over the last two weeks. It was still cold, often bitterly so at night, but the respite was enough to melt the ice and make it possible for trade to resume, however briefly. "Did you send off what we had?"
Lya wriggled her toes underneath him and he looked over to see her roll her eyes at him. "Of course I did." She carefully broke the wax seal of the first letter, mindful not to spray bits of blue wax everywhere. "I'm really glad this came in though. I didn't expect to be able to send it so soon, and this will probably be the last we hear from anyone up north until the spring."
"Me, too." Alistair slipped the small knife from the side of his boot free, and held it above the flame of the candle to heat the blade before slipping it under the reddish-orange wax of his father's seal.
"Fancy, fancy."
"Hush you," Alistair murmured back fondly, attention already on the heavy packet, the much smaller envelope with a gray seal that slipped free. He tucked the smaller envelope aside, saving it for last, and began reading.
There was nothing particularly exciting or earth shattering in the letter, simply a rather humdrum account of life at the palace. Alistair knew his father well enough to read between the lines and see that he's a bit lonely, but his pride in Alistair shone through brightly enough to take the sting out of the small pang of guilt Alistair felt.
He'd finished the letter and was about to start on the much slimmer one from Loghain—which was probably a set of instructions about what and what not to do—when Lya gasped softly. "What is it?" he asked, looking up.
Lya blinked up from the letter. "It's from Fergus. Apparently, Nathaniel came home from the Free Marches last month."
Alistair set down his papers. He hadn't yet gotten to Cailan's letter, and he figured that whatever Lya heard from her brother he would hear from his, but he didn't want to wait. "What happened?"
She skimmed the letter quickly. "He came back to visit Delilah. He's apparently quite thrilled that she married Teagan and not Vaughan and, oh!" Her eyes went wide. "He confronted his father about Vaughan, and said, oh, Maker! He said he wanted nothing more to do with him, that he wanted nothing from the Howe name and that Rendon could go hang for all he cared. That he was no longer his son."
Alistair whistled low and Lya nodded as she looked up at him, shock still evident in her voice. "I knew Nate wouldn't be pleased, but I didn't expect him to go that far."
"What's he going to do now? He can't stay in Amaranthine."
Shaking her head, Lya lifted the letter once more. "No. No, Fergus says he's going back to the Free Marches. Knowing Fergus and Father, I'm sure they tried to help him out somewhat. And Cailan might have more to say about that, but he's basically sworn not to return until his father is dead."
"That could be a very long time."
"I've never known Nate to break his word." She sighed, lips compressed in a thin line. "It's a sorry business. My father and Arl Howe used to be friends, but…. He tried to talk Rendon out of it, you know. Marrying Delilah to Vaughan. We all knew what he was, but all Howe could see was how it would benefit him. Ass. Well, at least that put to rest any chance of me marrying Thomas."
Alistair went very still. "What?"
"Oh." Lya blushed and bit her lip. "It was nothing serious, you understand. Just talk. Thomas was too young for me anyway, and given a choice, he's not the son I would have preferred."
He didn't say anything for a moment. "Not the one you preferred?" He tried to keep his voice steady, but even he could hear the uncertainty in it, the thread of anger.
"You're rather adorable when you're jealous, you know." Lya slid her feet out from under his leg and shifted around until she was nestled against his side. "I love you, Alistair. No one else. I never have and I never will. But when I considered others that I could have married…yes, I would have married Nate. He's a good man and I would have had a good life with him."
Reaching up, she cupped his cheek, turning his face down to hers, her green eyes wide and soft. "You make me happy, tough. I don't know how else to say it. I fall asleep in your arms each night and wake up beside you each morning, and there is nothing more I could want. Don't ever doubt that."
For a few moments longer, Alistair was able to hold his glowering façade, but it broke as soon as Lya batted her eyelashes in a patently exaggerated way, and her laugh joined his. Shaking his head, he turned back to his letters, dropping one arm across Lya's shoulders to pull her close, and reading the rest of the missives one-handed.
Alistair ducked his head into Lya's study, rapping his knuckles gently on the doorframe. Lya looked up from the letter she was writing. "Yes?"
"Are you doing anything important?"
"Not especially. Not anything that can't wait anyway. Why?"
"We need to talk."
Lya's brows knit together, but she nodded. "Just give me a few moments." She set the quill back down on its silver holder and pressed the cork back into the inkwell. Leaving the letter where it was to dry in the air, she rose from her seat, smoothing out the simple dress she wore. "What's up?"
Alistair looked around the study and shook his head, holding out his hand. "Walk with me?"
The frown stayed in place, but she came forward anyway, taking his hand when he held it out. She didn't prod him as they walked, but from the looks she kept giving him, he knew he couldn't wait too long.
They ended up in an out of the way sitting room that saw little use and Lya raised an eyebrow as Alistair tugged her down to sit beside him. "What's going on?"
"I need to tell you something," he said quietly.
"You know, you're scaring me a little. Is it bad?"
"Maybe?" Alistair honestly didn't know how to answer that question. He took a steadying breath. "I'm sure you've heard rumors about my mother, right?"
"Yes," Lya answered cautiously. "I never gossiped about you, but it was impossible to escape all talk of it, especially for the first few years after you came to Denerim."
"So you heard about how she was a servant and died shortly after I was born?"
"Yes."
"All right, well, the thing is…." He trailed off, looking down at her hand still held firmly in his. "The thing is…that's not true."
From the corner of his eye, he saw Lya tip her head to the side, waiting for him to go on. "My mother wasn't from Ferelden, either. She was one of the initial group of Orlesian Grey Wardens that my father allowed back into the country."
Lya gasped softly. "Your mother was a Warden?"
He smiled. "I like how you focused on that and not that she was an Orlesian."
"Yes, well, it seems the more salient point. But is that all? Because that hardly seems a reason to be so tense."
"No, that's not all. The thing is, my mother wasn't just a Grey Warden. She was also an elven mage." Beside him, Lya went very still, and he rushed on. "Hopefully the elven part doesn't mean very much, because all children of elves and humans are human. But since she was a mage…."
"That means our children could be mages."
"Yes."
He tried not to feel hurt when Lya tugged her hand out of his and stood up, arms crossed tightly as she went to the window and leaned against it.
"I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner."
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Because I didn't want it to affect your decision to marry me, and then because I didn't want to upset you before the wedding."
"Alistair…." There was an edge of frustration when she said his name, and he watched her cover her eyes with one hand. "You didn't think it was something I needed to know?"
"I did. I just…I didn't want to lose you."
Her hand fell away from her face. "You didn't want to lose me? So, what, you tell me after I can't change my mind? How is that better?"
His head snapped up to stare at her. He had expected her to be angry or upset, but to say she wanted to change her mind…. "So if you had known, you would have told me no?"
"Alistair, no, that's not—" She cut herself off with a frustrated sigh. "All right, look, we can't have this conversation right now or we're both going to say things we regret. I need some time to think about this."
"Sure." He stood and headed for the door, hoping she would stop him before he left and feeling disappointment wash over him when she didn't. He walked through the hallways blindly, not paying attention to where he was going until he finally found himself headed outside, through the bitingly cold air and into the stables. The building, warm and smelling of horse and hay, was comforting. He busied himself, brushing his stallion down and trying not to think about how much he'd made a mess of things.
They didn't speak that night at dinner outside of what was required, and Alistair stayed out late, slinking into their bed long after he knew she was asleep. It wasn't until the following evening, when Alistair was trying to write his own correspondence, that Lya finally came to him.
"First of all," she said softly, standing in the doorway, "even if I had known, it wouldn't have made me change my mind. That's not what I meant yesterday. I married you because I love you and who your mother was doesn't change that. But you still should have told me. I'm upset because you didn't trust me with it sooner, didn't trust that I could handle it."
"I'm sorry."
"As long as you're apologizing for that, then it's fine. I'm not even angry, Alistair, I'm concerned." She came further into the room, pushing the door shut behind her and crossed to his desk. After a moment's hesitation, she slid onto his lap, settling against him, head tucked into the curve of his neck and shoulder. "I'm concerned," she said quietly. "Knowing that your mother was a mage doesn't change that I want a family, but it means that we have to be prepared."
"In case the worst happens."
She sat back quickly. "Having a child as a mage is not the worst that could happen. I'm not saying it would be good or that I want that to happen, but there are worse fates."
"So you're not mad?"
"I'm…irritated. And worried. This isn't something I thought would ever be an issue, so it never entered into my concerns to think about." She reached out, sinking one hand into his hair. "Listen, for right now, let's not worry about it, all right? We have plenty of time and I'm not going to run myself ragged with 'what if' scenarios."
Alistair nodded, leaning into her touch, a weight easing from his chest. He knew that she wasn't entirely at ease with the situation—he could feel the tension in her frame—but there wasn't anything they could do about it, and he supposed she was handling it about as well as he could expect.
"And, Alistair, please, if something like this ever comes up again, tell me first."
"I will, I promise."
"I'll hold you to that."
"You know, we're only staying for a month."
Lya shot Alistair an annoyed look, and then frowned as she looked back down at the trunk she was trying to stuff with clothing. "I need to be prepared for any situation. And so do you. We're going to be expected to put in appearances, and probably host at least a small gathering of our own. We have to look the part, Alistair. It's different now than it was before."
"All right, I get it. But that's no reason to take your whole wardrobe."
"I'm not taking my whole wardrobe," she muttered. "It's just…."
Alistair frowned when she trailed off, and moved forward to take her hand and draw her away from the trunk. A wisp of hair had fallen from the loose bun it was piled in and he brushed it away from her face. "Hey, are you all right? You're not normally this…frazzled."
She sighed and leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. "I'm fine. Just…nervous, I guess."
"Nervous?" He couldn't help the laugh. "Come on. What do you have to be nervous about?"
Pulling back, she caught his gaze, her eyes dark and worried. "I'm serious. I want to do this right. I don't want to embarrass you."
A sudden rush of affection suffused him and he pulled her close again, wrapping his arms around her and breathing in the fresh, clean scent of her hair. "You know that's silly, right? That I'm far more likely to embarrass you than the other way around? You'll be fine. We'll be fine. Just stop and breathe for a moment."
Lya laughed against his shoulder, the sound muffled by the fabric of his tunic. "You're right, you're right. I know. I need to relax. I just can't help it. Enough of my mother rubbed off that I worry about these things."
"Well, I won't tell you not to worry, but just don't worry too much, all right? The sooner we leave tomorrow, the sooner we'll get back to Denerim."
Nodding, she pulled away. "I know. Don't worry, I'll be ready in the morning and probably laugh at myself for being so distraught over something so frivolous. But for now, you should probably just leave me alone to fret over whether or not styles have changed very much in six months."
With a grin, Alistair let her go. "Probably safer for me that way. I'll, um, check to see if my packing is finished. See you at dinner?"
"Of course." She leaned forward and dropped a quick kiss on his lips. "See you then."
Alistair left quickly. It was rare that Lya got in a mood like that and he didn't want to make it worse by bumbling around. He was confident Lya would be back to her normal self by the morning.
As Lya had said, she was back to being herself the next morning, laughing over her silliness. They opted to ride to Denerim instead of traveling in a carriage, and thankfully the weather cooperated. The sky stayed dry, if not always clear, and they made good time to the capital.
Alistair half expected their families to descend upon them as soon as they arrived, but all that happened was that Fergus came a couple hours after they settled into the estate to invite them to dinner. "It'll be at our estate," he said, "but everyone will be there. Just something casual to welcome you."
"You don't have to do that," Lya protested, drawing back from the tight hug she'd wrapped her brother in.
Fergus gave her a long suffering look. "If you don't let Mother do this, she's liable to follow you to Gwaren. She misses you, little sister. So, please, if not for her, do it for the rest of us. You don't have to live with her anymore, remember?"
Smiling sheepishly, Lya nodded her head. "Yes, I know. I'm sorry. I miss you all, too, and I do want to see all of you, I just didn't want anyone to feel like they had to go through too much trouble."
With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Fergus laughed. "You're married to a prince, there's really very little that's considered 'too much trouble.'" He dodged the playful blow she swatted at his arm. Alistair held out his own hand to greet Lya's brother and Fergus took it only to pull him into a hug. "We'll see you tonight, then?"
"Of course."
"Then I'd best get back and deliver the happy news. I'm sure Mother will appreciate a prompt response."
"I don't know why she's worried. It's not like we wouldn't go."
"Who knows why mothers do what they do?" Fergus shrugged. "Oriana frets over stuff she never did before we had Oren. Guess it's something you have to look forward, huh?"
Lya frowned at him and pushed him toward the door. "All right, you've delivered your message. Off with you now."
"I'm going, I'm going. It'll be good to spend some time with everyone tonight, so I'll see you then."
They said their goodbyes, Alistair and Lya both seeing Fergus to the door. Once he was gone, Lya stood looking at the closed door for a moment, a small frown lingering between her brows. He touched a fingertip to it, gently smoothing out the little wrinkle. "He was just teasing."
"I know." She shrugged her shoulders irritably. "But sometimes I wish he wouldn't always treat me like his little sister."
"It could be worse, you know. At least you—"
"I know." Lya cut him off abruptly and he fell silent, startled, and she sighed wearily. "Alistair, I know. I love Fergus to death. I can't imagine what it would be like without him. But that doesn't mean I can't be annoyed when he treats me like a child." With another sigh, she took a step back and waved him away. "I'm being snappish. I'm sorry. I think I'm going to go lie down for a little while before we have to get ready for dinner tonight."
She swept past him and out of the hall, leaving Alistair staring after her in bafflement. That…was unlike Lya and he frowned, thinking back to how out of sorts she'd seemed just before they left Gwaren. Perhaps she was just tired like she said, but he'd never known her to act that way. Still everyone was entitled to their off days, and he wasn't ready to read too much into it just yet. He wished he had someone to ask because going to Lya's family for help didn't seem right. Maybe he could ask Anora. She'd been able to give him advice when he'd needed it before, and she was a woman. Maybe she would have some insight.
For that moment, he put it out of her mind. It was probably nothing. He knew he wasn't always at his best when worn down. Raking a hand through his hair, he turned and headed for the training yard in the back of the estate. It would be good to get in some practice before he spent the next several weeks involved in politics.
By the time he was done a couple of hours later, and had headed back inside, Lya was up from her nap, definitely looking well-rested. "Feeling better?" he asked.
"Much," she replied with a small smile. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine." He bent over and dropped a quick kiss to the top of her head. She laughed and pushed him away, wrinkling her nose. "You need a bath, love."
"Was heading there now."
"Will you be ready in an hour?"
"Yes."
"All right, I'll see you downstairs then."
Dinner was excellent. Alistair enjoyed getting to see his family again. By now, he was used to the long, half-year absences, but this time it felt different, and to be around his father, Loghain, Cailan and Anora again grounded him.
Lya was swarmed by her family, her mother and nephew especially glad to see her. Oren spent nearly the entire evening either by her side or on her lap, begging stories out of her. Eleanor was only slightly less obvious in how much she'd missed her daughter. They looked so happy—even Lya, who, for all her words, had hugged Eleanor very, very tightly when they'd arrived—that he wasn't even the slightly bit upset that he was essentially pushed aside by them for the evening. Instead, he spent his time catching up on things with his family.
"It'll be a quiet Landsmeet this year," Maric said over a glass of wine, and by his side, Loghain grunted his approval. "There are no urgent, pressing matters, and no one seems upset by anything at the moment."
"Except your pet Grey Warden," Loghain muttered.
Alistair frowned. Pet Grey Warden? "What?"
"He means Duncan." Maric sighed. "I'm sure someone will complain, but there's nothing I can do about it."
"What's going on now?" Alistair asked, looking back and forth between the two older men.
"Duncan's managed to upset the Chantry. He was making his rounds, looking for recruits, and he…liberated an apostate being brought back to the Circle after he'd escaped yet again."
Alistair gave a low whistle. "That probably upset a few people."
Loghain snorted. "Not just a few. I thought the templar that had been sent to bring the mage in was going to have a fit. And Elemena didn't look very pleased, but at least she didn't harangue anyone. And though the knight-commander wanted him to be brought back to face justice for escaping again, he wasn't willing to defy the Wardens for it."
"And the first enchanter?" Alistair ventured to ask.
"He just sent a reply that everyone would be happier if they let the Wardens take the mage, so he sent Duncan his thanks, apparently."
"Well, that doesn't seem so bad."
"Yet." Loghain glared at Maric. "If he does this too much, it's going to cause unrest."
"I'm not revoking the Rite of Conscription," Maric stated firmly. "Though if it makes you feel better, I have asked Duncan to be a little more circumspect about when he uses it."
"For all the good it'll do now," Loghain grumbled, but finally desisted into silence with a warning look from Maric.
"My point, Alistair," Maric said, firmly drawing the focus back to himself, "is that you're not going to have to do a lot of politicking this Landsmeet. That might change for the fall, and it will certainly be important in the future, but there's less pressure on you right now."
Alistair smiled, forcing himself to ignore the underlying tension in the room. This was a conflict he had no business sticking his nose into, nor did he want to. He knew where his sympathies firmly lay, but he didn't want to be forced to choose between the two men. Besides, it wasn't as if he couldn't see both sides to the argument. Neither was without merit, even if he did favor one more than the other.
"That's a relief," he said instead. "I appreciate that I'll get a chance to renew friendships and acquaintances without the added pressure."
"I thought you might." His father grinned at him. "Though I can hardly take credit, unless it's just my good luck at work."
"You've always had more than your fair share," Loghain snorted.
Maric's smile grew wistful. "Not nearly as much as most people believe, my friend. I think we both know that."
Loghain tipped his head in silent acknowledgment, and the conversation lulled for a few moments before Anora deftly turned it around, commenting on something innocuous that led them in a different direction and away from the uncomfortable, unsaid thoughts.
They stayed up talking for a long time, until Alistair was finally unable to contain a jaw-cracking jaw. There was a moment's silence, and then a ripple of chuckles ran across the group. "It's late," Maric said, rising from his seat. "You've had a long journey and we've kept you long enough." He stretched, wincing slightly when his shoulder popped, and rubbed the joint for a minute. "And you're not the only one who needs rest. Will you and Lya stay in the palace tonight?"
Alistair looked over at his wife, already shaking his head. Lya caught his eye and began to make her goodbyes. "No. I think I'd rather head back home. Besides," he laughed, "it's not as if it's very far."
"True enough," Maric replied and turned to give Lya a hug as she came up to say her goodbye to him while Alistair did the same to her family. "You're always welcome, though."
"We know. And we appreciate it." Lya gave him a swift kiss on the cheek, and Cailan and Anora as well. She didn't attempt to do the same for Loghain, but she did grace him with a fond smile, which he returned with a quirked eyebrow.
"How are you finding Gwaren?" Alistair heard him ask Lya in a low voice.
"Different." She answered in the same low voice, but Alistair heard the fondness in her voice. "I think perhaps they suited their former teyrn very well, though—tough, stubborn, fierce and loyal."
"Flattery."
"Truth." Lya laughed. "You did your people proud, and they you. I look forward to living my life there very much. We'll take good care of them."
Loghain looked up, caught Alistair's eye, and when he spoke it was to the both of them. "I know you will."
Lya graced him with another tip of her head and turned to catch Alistair's hand in her own. "Ready?"
"Yes. You? Said enough goodbyes?"
"There are never enough goodbyes for my mother, but we should be all set for tonight. Let's go home."
They waved their final goodbyes and parted ways with Lya's family at the bottom of the steps as they got into their own carriages. The ride was short, but Lya snuggled into his side as soon as the carriage door shut, and Alistair wrapped his arm around her shoulders without thought. He was drowsing by the time they got back to the estate, but the motion of the carriage stopping roused him.
He slid out when the door was opened, then turned and held out his hand to Lya. On impulse, he didn't let go when she was clear of the carriage, but tugged her forward, swinging her up into his arms. She gave a short, surprised cry before giggling and wrapping her arms around his neck. He carried her all the way inside and up the stairs to their room before he set her down, and then leaned in for a kiss.
"Thank you," she murmured. "And while I would love to suggest otherwise, right now, the only thing that's going to happen once I'm in that bed is sleep."
Alistair couldn't help but laugh. "Agreed." That didn't stop him from pulling her close once they were under the sheets, but he, too, was asleep nearly as soon as his head hit the pillows.
As Maric had said, there wasn't much of import at the Landsmeet. Most of the topics brought up were simply about current trade agreements, and in all cases, the vote was simply to continue as things were. There were no new proposals to be debated, which saved significant amounts of time. There was, as Loghain predicted, some few small complaints about Duncan's use of the Rite of Conscription, but they were from the most devout members of the Bannorn. They weren't pleased when Maric said the Rite of Conscription wasn't a matter to be decided upon by the Landsmeet, and then slightly mollified when he said he'd already asked Duncan to use more discretion in the future.
With the shortened Landsmeet, and the pleasant weather that came with spring, there were more social activities than usual. Alistair and Lya spent a lot of time with their families, naturally, but Alistair was also glad to catch up with Teagan, and Lya was eager to catch up with Delilah. They spent a rather pleasant afternoon and evening at Teagan's estate, talking about inconsequential things.
"How have you settled in?"
Teagan sighed. "About as well as can be expected," he answered. "I have never liked cities and I miss Rainesfere fiercely, but…." He shrugged. "We all make sacrifices. I am grateful that your father let me keep Rainesfere as well. I've managed to get away a few times and it's helped."
"And the Alienage?"
That time, Teagan rubbed his forehead wearily. "I've been within its gates all of twice, and that was enough to learn that they hate me."
"But you haven't done anything!"
"That doesn't matter. I expect they'll hate every arl on principle alone. That I'm replacing Vaughan has done nothing to endear me to them. I can hope it'll get better, but I'm not going to hold my breath."
"They'll come around," Alistair assured him.
Teagan raised a brow in disbelief. "I lack your optimism, but thank you for it all the same." He swirled his goblet of wine, watching the dark liquid coat the sides of the glass. "I should probably tell your father first, and I will tomorrow, but you should know. Isolde is with child again."
Alistair's eyes widened. "That…will come as a relief to many, to not have to worry about the succession. To the Guerrins, your father and a few others maybe. Most will gnash their teeth at the thought of an opportunity lost."
"True." Teagan seemed somber delivering the news, so he waited a moment before asking, "Are you happy about it?"
"Yes, of course. For all the faults I think Eamon has, he's still my brother. Losing Connor to the Tower was hard on him, even more so on Isolde. I just worry that fear it will happen again will cloud their joy."
Alistair nodded slowly, thinking of his own connection to just that problem. He threw a quick glance Lya's way, but she was laughing with Delilah and didn't see him. She had taken the news of his own mother relatively well, but he wondered how sanguine she would be about it if they ever did have children. He turned back to Teagan. "Not much to be done about it now."
"No. And I think it's a chance they should take, for a succession battle is a greater risk. If it can be avoided, it should be."
He nodded, falling silently and easing back into his chair. "How is Delilah settling in?"
"Well, I think." Teagan smiled widely and his gaze at his wife was unmistakably fond. "I know it's been hard on her. I'm old enough to be her father and I had rather enjoyed my life as a lifelong bachelor, but I don't regret asking her to marry me at all. She's got a good head on her shoulders, she smart, sensible and kind. I would have been hard pressed to do better. And I try to make sure she knows that she and what she does is appreciated."
"She looks happy, if that helps. You must be doing a good job."
"Thank you," Teagan laughed. "It does help. She makes being here easier for me and I would like to think that I do the same thing for her." He gave Alistair a pointed look. "And you?"
Alistair grinned. "Everything's going really well."
Teagan chuckled knowingly. "I'll bet. You two look very happy together. You're good for each other."
The simple compliment warmed Alistair, and he was glad that others could see how he felt about Lya and she for him. His wife chose that moment to look over and unable to resist, he beckoned her over. She nodded, taking Delilah's hand and the two women joined them. Sitting next to him, Alistair could see the shy little looks Delilah gave Teagan, and he wondered if the older man knew that she was probably more than a little fond of him.
Well, if she was as sensible as Teagan said, she'd let him know soon enough. For right then, he caught Lya's hand in his and turned his mind to the conversation at hand.
They attended several other gatherings over the next couple of weeks, though at a few Lya merely picked at her food and drink, and once or twice pleaded tiredness and asked to retire early. Alistair fretted a bit, but she was always fine the next day, all bright smiles and cheer, so he was forced to conclude that all was well.
They were enjoying a lazy morning in, piled together on the soft down of their mattress. "Alistair, do you have any plans for today?"
"No. Why?"
"I wanted to go looking in the market for some things."
"Oh?" He asked, wondering what she had her eye one. Lya wasn't particularly vain or greedy, but a nice, tasteful piece of jewelry—or more usually a well-crafted sword or shield—could turn her head. "What are you looking for?"
"Some furniture, I think. I'll need some things to remodel the chambers next to ours. Maybe a few clothes, as well."
Alistair propped himself up on one arm to frown down at his wife. "You can buy what you want, but didn't we just get done with everything? I thought you liked things the way we set them up."
"Oh, I do," she assured him quickly. "But there are a few things we really do need."
"Like what?" He couldn't think of anything, and he hadn't thought Lya was one to set her heart of useless frippery and decoration.
"Nothing big, I promise. Just a cradle, mainly. Perhaps a few rabbit fur blankets."
"A cradle? But those are for…." He went silent, blinking down at Lya, who was smiling up brilliantly at him. "You're serious? You…you're…."
"Yes," she said, laughing, "I am."
"Oh." The word seemed far too small to encompass at that he was feeling—sheer, wild joy, worry, fear, love—but it was all he could come up with at the moment. He pushed the sheet away to look at her abdomen, still flat and toned, and touched it gently, settling his hand low on her belly. Was that a slight curve under his hand or was he imagining it? "How long?" he managed to ask.
"A little over two months, I think."
Alistair did a quick figuring in his head. Their child would be born in the winter, probably just after First Day. His head swam with the sudden need to know details, to make sure everything was arranged so that they would be safe.
Lya's hand covered his, her thumb rubbing gently over his knuckles. "Hey. Are you all right?"
He quickly pulled his attention back to her, and laughed, even if it was a bit shaky. "Yes. I'm fine. Just overwhelmed for a minute. What about you? Do you need anything?"
"I'm fine," she giggled. "I hardly even know he's there yet, just when he decides I shouldn't eat."
"Is that why you haven't been feeling well?"
"I've been feeling fine," she protested. "Just sometimes strong smells, from food or perfumes makes me queasy. I'd rather go home when that happens than be sick all over someone's sitting room."
"Good point." He settled back onto the bed, pulling Lya against his chest, his hand still under hers on her stomach. Then he laughed again, but softly, in disbelief and wonder, his fingers stroking over the soft skin below them. "A baby. I didn't…I mean, I knew eventually, but…."
Lya laughed gently. "I'm glad you're happy."
"Very." He nuzzled into the back of her neck and smiled. "Can we tell the others?"
"We can tell them whenever you like, but it should probably be before I start to show."
"Tomorrow," he said firmly.
"Not today?" Lya asked, twisting in his arms to look at him curiously. "I would've thought you wanted to tell everyone."
"I do," he insisted. "And we will. But…I want one day where this is just ours before we have to share."
"All right." Her tone was soft. "We can do that. Tomorrow then. We'll tell everyone at once."
Telling their families all at once was rather convenient, as they frequently dined together, at the palace or one of the estates, in order to let everyone have a chance at spending time together. It was the simplest solution to making sure that no one monopolized what time Alistair and Lya had to spend with them, since Gwaren was remote enough to prevent visits their families might have otherwise made.
That evening, dinner happened to be at the palace, and they waited until everyone had settled into a drawing room before Alistair cleared his throat loudly to capture their attention. Then they each took a deep breath, Lya reached over to take Alistair's hand.
"I'm pregnant," Lya said quietly.
There was a moment of silence before everyone in the room broke out into glad cheers. Lya was immediately hugged tightly by her mother, who was wiping her eyes, while Alistair received claps on the back from Maric, Loghain, Bryce and Fergus. Then Lya managed to pry Eleanor off her long enough to receive hugs from Oriana, her father and Maric, while Eleanor turned her attention to Alistair.
The attention was overwhelming and it wasn't until the initial furor had calmed down that Alistair realized Cailan hadn't come over. He'd seen Anora give Lya a light hug, but nothing from Cailan. He looked around, finally spotting his brother standing a little off to the side, a blank expression on his face. Alistair edged his way over to him. "Cailan?" he asked.
His brother's face tensed for a moment before it relaxed. He gave Alistair a brief, tight smile. "Congratulations." Then without another word, he turned and left the room. Baffled, Alistair made to follow him, but someone caught his arm. He turned to see his father shaking his head.
"Let him go," he said quietly.
"What's wrong with him?" Alistair asked.
"Nothing. Just let him go, Alistair."
"I thought he'd be happy for me."
Maric sighed. "He is. Just give him a few days, all right?"
Alistair frowned, but did as his father said, turning back to the group. He caught Anora's gaze and she just sighed, nodded her head at Maric, and slipped out of the room, after her husband.
Meanwhile, Lya was being peppered with questions, and sat back down next to her. Eleanor's attention was focused on her concern of Lya having the baby in the middle of winter when they were stuck in Gwaren. She was adamant that Lya be closer to her family when the baby was born. Lya, knowing her mother, had already discussed that issue with Alistair yesterday, voicing her own concerns about it, so they were already prepared to tell Eleanor that they would go home for the summer, but when the fall Landsmeet came, they would remain in Denerim to have the baby, and stay until after the following spring Landsmeet. That would give them all plenty of time to be with the baby before they went back home. And, thankfully, Lya's mother seemed satisfied with that.
However, when she next turned the conversation to the topic of finding a good midwife, Lya stifled a laugh by biting her lip and quickly excused them for the night. "There will be plenty of time for that later, Mother, I promise," Alistair heard Lya telling Eleanor, and quietly resigned himself to a very doting mother-in-law for the next several months.
News that they were expecting a child traveled quickly, and for the rest of their time in Denerim, Alistair got used to people coming up to him with well wishes. Like his father had said, after a few days, Cailan did seem more heartfelt when he offered congratulations again, but there was still a sense of reserve about him that bothered Alistair. It hadn't escaped his notice that Cailan had stopped seeking him out, the way he usually did when they were in the capital, and that he didn't offer to spar with him. Alistair tried asking obliquely when they were together, but couldn't get a satisfactory response out of his brother.
He knew that succession had to be a concern for his brother. It was the concern of any landholder, but for Cailan the pressure had to be intensified. Was it enough to cause Cailan to be that upset, though? After all, he and Anora had only been married for…. He stopped, counted, and then frowned. It would be over six years now. He frowned again. That might be a cause for concern then. He would have expected over the course of six years that they would have had a child already, but clearly that hadn't happened.
Well, in that light, Cailan's behavior was more understandable, if not reassuring. Alistair had to imagine it was galling to have been trying for so long—if, indeed, they had been—and then watch your little brother have a child so quickly. He sighed. He would try to stay out of Cailan's way for now, give him some time to come to terms with it. But he wasn't going to bring the topic up. If Cailan had never sought to confide in him about it, Alistair doubted he would do so now and wouldn't appreciate the intrusion. Alistair would just have to see how it played out.
Alistair poked his head into various rooms as he made his way down the hall, looking for his wife. They had been back in the capital for a week or so, and he knew he needed to talk her now before too much time passed. Since their time in Gwaren had been so good, he was loathe to bring the issue up again. The news that an heir was on the way had seemed to thaw the reticence that the residents of Gwaren had showed, and they had warmed up considerably to their teyrna. Alistair had used to the time to keep Lya to himself as much as possible, reveling in how she changed as their child grew. He knew that once they went back to Denerim, he would have to share her with her family, and rightly so, but he appreciated the time he got with her alone.
And he was afraid that this conversation might ruin what they had.
He finally spotted her curled up on a well-stuffed couch in the library, her dark head bent over a book. "Lya?"
"Yes, love?"
"How are you feeling?"
"A little tired, but well. But if you're looking to help, you could rub my feet." She looked up at him hopefully and he laughed, sitting down on one end while she turned, dropping her feet neatly on his lap. He slipped her soft shoes off and began gently kneading the delicates bones of one foot while she moaned in appreciation.
"I did want to talk to you."
"About what?" she murmured, eyes closed, book lying forgotten in her lap.
"About what happens if the baby is…like my mother."
Lya drew a shaky breath. "Alistair…I can't worry about that right now, I really can't. right now my only concern is that our child is healthy and whole."
He nodded, still stroking her foot carefully. "I just…I can't help but thinking about it. If he'll be taken away from us like Connor was from Eamon.
Lya's hands crept down to cover her rounded stomach, fingers curling around the swell of their child protectively. "We'll cross that bridge when—if—we come to it. And until that point, we make sure our child—or our children, however many there may be—knows that we love him, no matter what."
"It if happens, it will be my fault."
"Don't," she protested. "Alistair, don't. If it happens, it won't be anyone's fault. It will just be the way things are. You had no control over who your parents were and no matter what happens, there's no blame or guilt to go around. Please don't borrow trouble. Just be happy right now."
Alistair nodded, but couldn't find his voice for a moment. He had to get this out, had to voice this fear because keeping it to himself was eating at him. "I never want my child to think that I abandoned him," he said hoarsely. He'd thought himself long past that old hurt, but the thought of another child going through that, that he would be the one to inflict it upon them, haunted him
"Oh, Alistair." There was a flurry of movement as Lya swung her feet down and snuggled herself into his side, pulling his head down so that it rested on her shoulder. "We'll make sure that never happens. If it happens, we'll trade Gwaren for Redcliffe. Or we'll pitch a tent on the shores of Lake Calenhad and demand the templars take us across every day."
Alistair chuckled at the thought of Lya living out of a tent and haranguing templars. She probably would do it, too.
"You're being silly," she said softly. "I understand why, and I even share your fear, but it's still silly. And the children we have will know how much you love them. It would be impossible for them not to. I'm almost convinced this one will come out knowing you better than it does me, with all the talking you do to him."
His cheeks burned slightly at the reference to the habit she had developed of speaking to her stomach, telling their child of how much they loved him and all the things they were going to do. But Alistair ignored that and nuzzled into her neck, taking comfort in her embrace.
"I don't think I could do this without you."
"And I wouldn't be doing this without you, so I think we're even." She pulled away to give him a small grin. "Please try not to worry too much, all right? I need you."
He pulled her close, feeling worry and relief wash over him in equal measure. "I won't. And whatever you need, you ask me. I would do anything for you, you know that, right?"
"I know. And right now, my other foot needs a little bit of attention." She looked up at him impishly, and a weak laugh broke free from his chest. He had to put this aside and be there for her right now. He didn't think the worry would ever really go away, but he couldn't focus on it or it would drive him mad. Grinning, he nudged her back and slid her feet back onto his lap.
"What about Aedan? It's what my parents would have named me if I was a boy."
They had been tossing names about for awhile. They had tentatively settled on Eirian or Máirín if it was a girl, but they hadn't yet decided on a boy's name. Alistair hummed thoughtfully, turning the name over in his mind. It was a perfectly good name. There was no reason it couldn't be an option.
"I was kind of hoping to use something tied to my family, as a sort of link. Maybe after my great-grandfather."
"Brandel?" Lya furrowed her brows in consideration.
"Not the whole name, no. But I would like something related."
Lya thought for a moment. "Braden?" she suggested. "Brannon? Bryn?"
"I like Braden," he said. "Both names together. You?"
"I think it's lovely." She patted her stomach. "Hello, Braden," she crooned.
"You're so convinced it's going to be a boy," Alistair laughed.
"It feels like a boy," Lya replied primly. "If by the way he kicks is any way to judge."
"Like you would be a good judge of that," he muttered, and then yelped when she dug her fingers into his ribs, tickling. "Stop!" he laughed, trying to extricate himself, finally scooting out of her reach. "That is completely unfair when I can't retaliate."
"You'll just have to save them up, then," was his wife's smug response. "Besides, it won't be very long now."
Alistair inched his way back over, settling down with his head on Lya's shoulder, a hand possessively splayed across her belly. "Are you nervous?"
"Yes, a bit." He worked his other arm underneath her shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "But it's not like I have a choice," she drawled. "Besides, I'm eager to meet him. And I'd like my body back, and unless he's going to start paying me rent, I'd like it back soon."
"Lies." Alistair chuckled. "You love it."
"Most of it," she corrected. "When he's trying to break my ribs or standing on my bladder…not so much. Which, if you haven't guessed, is happening a little more frequently now."
He looked up at her. "It's not too uncomfortable, is it? I mean, do you want more after he's born?"
"Probably. But ask me again after he's born. I might change my mind."
But she grinned quick and easy, and Alistair knew that unless things went horribly wrong—a thought which he quickly and firmly put out of his head—then there would be more children down the road. That thought made him smile again and he leaned up to kiss Lya.
Alistair was at the Gnawed Noble, having lunch with Bann Sighard, when the front door flew open and Fergus strode inside. Seated so that he could see the door, Alistair watched as Lya's brother looked over the room, saw him, and hurried over. "Fergus," Alistair said, starting to get to his feet. "What are you—?"
"Time to go home, Alistair," Fergus said, grinning widely.
"Why…oh." Alistair blinked at his brother-in-law. "Right now?"
"Yes, right now. Come on, let's go."
Flustered, Alistair turned to Sighard. "I, uh, have to go."
Sighard just grinned widely. "Yes, you do. Best hurry home, lad. And congratulations."
"Thank you," Alistair managed and let Fergus put an arm on his shoulder to guide him out of the tavern. A few of the other nobles in their room, obviously surmising there was only one reason for his wife's brother to come rushing in to get him, also called their well wishes, and Alistair acknowledged them with a hasty wave of his hand.
They made their way quickly back to the estate. When they arrived, things weren't nearly as busy as he expected them to be, at least not until he went upstairs to where their rooms were. There he found the midwife directing a few servants, and Eleanor and Oriana bustling around the room Lya was in. Bryce sat in an out of the way corner, and rolled his eyes when he saw Fergus come in with Alistair. "There was no need to get him yet," he muttered.
"You tell Mother that," Fergus shot back quietly.
"What's happening?" Alistair asked, ignoring their by-play.
"Nothing yet," Bryce assured him. "Come on, have a seat. It will be awhile yet. I'm afraid my wife insisted on summoning you long before you needed to be here."
"I want to be here if Lya needs me."
Bryce rolled his eyes again and sighed. "You probably won't even get to see her all that much. Women have a tendency to close ranks in this situation." He cast a quick look at the door to Alistair and Lya's bedchamber and then looked at Fergus, who nodded. "Look, why don't we go downstairs, get a drink, perhaps play some cards. We'd be best not underfoot anyway."
"But…."
"If anything happens, you can be up here in a matter of moments. Fergus take him downstairs. I'll let your mother know."
Laughing softly, Fergus grabbed Alistair's shoulder again, guiding him away as Bryce cracked open the bedroom door to speak to his wife. Fergus got him safely settled in the sitting room, then disappeared briefly, only to reappear with three goblets held in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
"Ah, good," Bryce said, joining them. Fergus opened the wine, pouring them each some, while Bryce located a desk of cards. "Diamondback?" he asked, and then shuffled and dealt the cards without waiting for an answer.
The days passed in agonizing slowness. A couple of times, Alistair was called upstairs because Lya wanted to see him. She looked well each time, though the last time her expression was pinched, and wisps of hair had fallen free of the braid her hair had been tied back in. "Are you all right?" he asked, gingerly sitting on the edge of the bed next to her, taking her hand because he was afraid to do anything else.
"Yes, fine," she said, nodding. "Though I really do wish the baby would hurry up."
"All things in their proper time," the midwife said serenely, moving to light a lamp. Lya glared at the woman and muttered something under her breath that was too low to hear, but sounded highly uncomplimentary.
"Do you need anything?"
Lys shook her head. "No, nothing that you can help with. I just wanted to see you."
Alistair nodded, not knowing what else to do. He traced absent circles on the back of her hand and remained silent, letting her rest next to him. They stayed that way for a short while until Lya began to shift uncomfortably and the midwife shooed him back downstairs.
His father arrived some time in the evening. "How are you holding up?" he asked when they had a moment alone.
"All right." Alistair raked a hand through his hair. "Nervous, though. Does it usually take this long?"
"You're asking the wrong person," Maric laughed. Then he shrugged. "It did for Cailan, but from what I gather that's typical."
Slumping into a seat, Alistair nodded, rubbing his face tiredly. "Are Cailan and Anora coming?"
"In a little while. They didn't want to overwhelm you with too many people at once."
Alistair nodded again. The uneasiness between them had been better when they returned to Denerim, and had continued to improve in the months since. He believed Cailan when he said he was happy for the two of them, but there was the slightest darkness to his eyes that never quite dissipated.
"You should sleep, if you can," his father offered after awhile.
"There's no way I could possibly fall asleep," Alistair protested.
Eventually, however, he dozed on and off as the night passed. He always awoke with a start, wondering if something happened, but Bryce, Fergus and Maric—whoever was awake at the moment—were always quick to assure him nothing had changed. His brother and Anora arrived at some point, he greeted them, glad that they had come. He half-expected Anora to go upstairs, but she stayed with the men, reading quietly while they talked.
A hand gently shaking him roused him from a light sleep he'd eventually fallen into, and he blinked up blearily into Fergus's face. "Congratulations, Alistair. You have a son," he murmured quietly, keeping his voice down for the benefit of the two older men who were asleep in their own chairs.
Alistair shot to his feet, nearly knocking into Fergus in his haste. "When?"
"Just a few minutes ago. You can go upstairs. I'll let the others know."
Without bothering to take the time to respond, Alistair took the stairs two at a time, almost running into a servant coming down the stairs with an armful of linens. He deftly darted out of the way and made for the bedchamber, only to be halted by Oriana. "Slow down," she said.
"Fergus said—!"
"Yes, I know. Sit down and as soon as we're done cleaning up your son, I'll bring him to you, all right?"
"But—"
"Sit, Alistair," she repeated more firmly. "Trust me. I'll bring him to you in just a few moments."
Wanting nothing more than to ignore her and go directly into the bedchamber, Alistair nonetheless let her guide him to a chair, drumming his fingers impatiently on the arm while he waited. After a few minutes, the bedroom door opened and Eleanor, not Oriana, emerged, holding a small, blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms. Alistair sucked in a breath, going very still as Lya's mother walked toward him.
"I've never held a baby before," he blurted out as she went to lean down.
Eleanor paused in surprise and then nodded once. "Well, you're about to get a lot of practice. Here, hold your arms like I am." Alistair mimicked the position, and Lya's mother nodded again. "Good. Be careful with his head. He can't support it himself yet." Then she bent down in front of him and carefully set her burden in his arms.
Alistair sat frozen for a moment, and then he looked up at Eleanor. "What do I do?"
"Just hold him," she said gently. "He may fuss a little bit, but that's perfectly fine."
A tremor ran through him and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. This tiny, little person was his responsibility and he seemed so very, very frail in Alistair's arms. Braden squeezed his eyes shut, squirming in his blankets. Making sure he had his son securely gripped in one arm before bringing up his other hand to gently ease the edge of the blanket away from his face. A tiny, red, wrinkled face greeted him, eyes blinking open, a small, toothless mouth opening in a squawk. "Hello, Braden," he murmured, stroking one finger along the unbelievably soft skin of the baby's cheek. He was incredibly conscious of just how huge and clumsy his hands felt, painfully aware that his son's entire head could fit in one hand.
Alistair nodded, turning his attention back to Braden, who was now blinking up owlishly at him. His eyes were a muddy blue color, but Alistair had been told that was true of most babies. They wouldn't know what color his eyes would be for a few months yet. His hair, a fine, soft fuzz, was equally as uninformative, a brownish color that could lighten or darken as it grew. He wondered who Braden would most look like, him or Lya. It looked like Braden's eyes might have the same shape as Lya's, but it was hard to tell. He searched for a trace of his own features—the chin, maybe?—but it was hard to tell. Regardless….
"He's beautiful," he whispered in awe.
"Yes, he is," came Maric's voice, startling Alistair. He looked up to see Maric looking down at them, a fond smile curling his mouth up on one side.
They stood staring down silently at the baby for a moment before Marci gently cleared his throat. "Might I know my grandson's name?"
"Braden."
"Braden," Maric repeated, and then nodded. "A good name."
"I can't believe he's really here," Alistair said after another moment. "I mean, I knew he was coming, but…." He took a deep breath to steady himself. He was an adult, a grown man, married, teyrn of Gwaren and yet…. "I don't know if I'm ready for this," he confessed.
"A little late to worry about that now."
"I know, I know. And I want this—him—Maker, do I ever, but what if I mess this up?"
"You won't."
"But what if I do? I have no idea what I'm doing. What if I do something wrong?"
"Alistair." Maric settled onto the arm of his chair, settling a hand on Alistair's shoulder to grip tightly. "Calm down. You will be fine. None of us ever knows what we're doing the first time around, yet, somehow, we manage. You're going to make mistakes, we all do. But as long as you love him, it'll be all right. And you have people you can turn to for help if you need it. But for right now…just enjoy your son. There will be enough worry later for a dozen lifetimes."
Alistair nodded and shifted Braden, holding him more securely and pushing the blankets aside for a better look. They spent long moments examining him. He had never imagined that feet could be so little or fingernails so tiny. Braden's eyelashes and eyebrows were like little bits of gossamer. Alistair was startled by the strength in the chubby limbs, when Braden pushed his feet into Alistair's arm, and when he nudged Braden's tiny hand and had a fist clamp around his finger. He felt a sudden surge of sympathy for Lya for having to put up with this for so long.
"What's wrong with his head?" he asked suddenly, running careful fingers over the slightly lopsided point of his son's head.
"Babies have soft heads," Maric shrugged. "If they didn't, there would be a whole lot less of them being born. It'll go back to normal. Don't worry."
Alistair had the feeling he would be hearing that phrase a lot in the days to come.
"Would you like to hold him?" Alistair asked, loathe to let his son go, but knowing without being told that his father would want a chance as well.
"Of course." Maric didn't wait, slipping his hands under Braden and lifting him, holding the baby close to his chest. He stood there, perfectly still but for the gentle rocking motion that he used to soothe Braden.
"Alistair?" Eleanor called him, and he turned, brows raised in question. "Lya wants to see you."
He nodded and went to go, but Maric halted him. "Here," he said, carefully handing Braden back to Alistair. "Trust me, she hasn't had enough time with him yet."
Alistair nodded and held Braden close as he entered the bedchamber, sliding onto the bed next to his tired-looking, but beaming wife. She immediately held out her arms, and he eased their son into her waiting embrace. Lya held him close, cooing gently, touching her fingertips to Braden's nose and mouth and nearly non-existent eyebrows. "We did it," she said faintly.
"You did it," he replied, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I love you so much."
Lya turned her head to the side, looking for a real kiss, and Alistair obliged her with a gentle one. He could see the exhaustion in her features, the dark circles under her eyes. Urging her to lie back against him, he supported her while she relaxed into him, humming under her breath as she continued to study their son.
"He looks like you," she said after awhile, startling a laugh out of him, which he quickly smothered so as not to wake Braden.
"You can't possibly tell that yet."
She grinned. "He will. You'll see. I was right about him being a boy, after all, wasn't I?"
"True," he allowed. "But it doesn't matter who he looks like. He's perfect."
Lya hummed in agreement, settling against him even more. And when the midwife came in a little while to lay Braden in his cradle, Lya only sleepily murmured her protest. Alistair made sure that the cradle was set right next to her, so that she could reach out whenever she wanted and then carefully crept from the room, letting his wife get the rest she needed.
AN: All right. I realized that I sort of glossed over 6-7 months of pregnancy, but I really had no desire to write it. Hopefully you'll forgive me. I am going to do my damnedest not to have another delay like this, if for no other reason there are some other works that I'm holind off until I finish a few open ones. Hopefully, you all enkoyed this update. Cheers!