Note: I AM SO SORRY FOR THE INCREDIBLY LONG WAIT! 1 MONTH! HOLY SHIT, ONE ENTIRE MONTH. i was just sooooo out of it in terms of writing recently. been dealing with loads of work-related stress, so i guess it's had an impact on my creativity juice. i managed to put this together in that time frame. i hope you like it. the end is nigh, everyone! the end is definitely nigh!
After much insistence, I finally persuade Evelyn to allow me to carry her back to my quarters, the reason for my insistence being the red and bruised state of her feet. Upon our return to Skyhold, we casually acknowledge the guards as though this is an everyday occurrence, though the knowing smirks on their faces do not go unnoticed by the pair of us.
"Do you remember the first time you carried me like this? When I sprained my ankle?" Evelyn asks with a smile.
"How could I forget?"
She chuckles lightly, the sound barely audible, and runs her fingers through my hair, keeping one arm firmly secured around my neck for support.
We manage to sneak up to my quarters without alerting anyone from the party who would insist on dragging us back in. Once up in my loft, we barely have enough energy to strip off our celebratory garb before literally collapsing onto bed, too exhausted to do anything else. A few short moments pass, and I feel my heavy lids flicker shut as I listen to the steady pace of Evelyn's breathing.
"I'll never forget tonight."
I open my eyes, surprised to learn that she is still awake. I tighten my hold around her and press a kiss to the top of her head.
"I cherish every moment I spend with you," I whisper. "I always will."
"Commander?"
I pause midway through imparting my orders to a group of my officers and look up from the map to see the dwarven courier standing by the door.
"Yes?"
"The Inquisitor is requesting your presence, Commander," the courier responds.
I nod and turn back to my awaiting officers grouped around my desk.
"We will finish this discussion at a later time," I inform them. "Until then, you know what you have to do. Dismissed."
I wait until my officers are gone before requesting further details from the courier.
"Does she require my presence right at this moment?" I ask her.
"Yes, Commander. In her private quarters. She says it's urgent."
Oh.
Andraste's mercy, I hope everything is all right.
"Thank you," I nod at the courier as I roll up the map on my desk, to which she bows in response and leaves. I automatically run my fingers through my hair to smooth it out and proceed to make my way to Evelyn's quarters.
Nobles still litter the main hall after the lunch hour, and I find it incredible that, after several months of witnessing this, they persist to stare at me behind their masks as I navigate my way through. I avoid eye contact when I can and quickly slip through the wooden door, shutting it firmly behind me. I exaggerate the sound of my footsteps as I make my way up the staircase to alert Evelyn of my arrival beforehand. When I step onto the landing of her bedchamber, I see that she is standing in the balcony, elbows resting on the banister and the light wind playing around with her dark brown locks. A smile spreads across my lips when I see her, and my heart rate cannot help but speed up as I eagerly stride towards her, anxious to feel her body against mine.
I notice her slightly turn her head to the side when she hears my approach, but she does not turn around to face me. That raises the first red flag in my mind.
"My darling," I murmur as I slide my arms around her from behind, burying my face in the crook of her neck. I kiss her warm skin, smiling to myself when I hear the light sigh that slips from her lips. She turns her head around to face mine, and I instantly cover her lips with mine, kissing her with a hunger that I had not anticipated from myself. She turns her entire body around to face me when the kiss deepens, and I growl into her mouth, pressing myself against her slender frame.
"I missed you," I whisper in between kisses, my hot breath blowing into her mouth.
"It's only been a few hours, Cullen," she smiles, but it does not reach her eyes. The second red flag.
"You underestimate the power of the hold you have over me, my love," I grin, brushing the tip of my nose against hers. She continues to smile, rubbing her thumbs in circles against the nape of my neck. I pull back enough to examine her face closely, cradling it in my gloved palms.
Something is not right.
"The courier said you wanted to see me," I tell her, brushing my thumbs against her cheeks. "Is something the matter?"
Her smiles instantly fades, and she steps back from me and towards the banister, leaving an uncomfortable distance between us.
"Yes," she responds in a measured manner. "I...I have news."
"Yes?" I urge her to continue with an encouraging smile. "What is it?"
She crosses her arms against her chest and regards me with a painfully uncomfortable expression.
"Evelyn?" I take a step closer to her, a tentative one. "Talk to me, my darling. What's wrong?"
She looks away and chews on her lower lip. The breeze blows her hair across her face, so I take the opportunity to close the gap between us and brush her hair away, tucking it behind her ears. Still refusing to meet my gaze, I curl my finger beneath her chin and gently tilt her face up towards mine. Reluctantly, she directs her brown eyes to mine, her brow furrowed with anxiety.
"I... you know how I've been feeling a little under the weather this past week?" she finally asks me.
"Yes..." Panic grips at me, but I do not show it. Is her illness graver than we anticipated?
"Well... we...Morrigan and I finally figured it out."
She gulps and flickers her gaze away from mine, looking sideways at the floor.
"And?" I insist when she does not continue. I cradle her face in my palms again and quite literally force her to look at me this time. "Evelyn, what is it?"'
She blinks up at me in silence for a few moments before finally responding in a weak voice.
"I'm pregnant."
What?
"What?"
I am very vaguely aware, in some distant, dusty corner of my mind, that my jaw has all but fallen to the ground and that my palms have slid away from Evelyn's face, dropping limply to my sides instead.
"I'm pregnant," she repeats.
I-
"I—I-" I take a deep breath to steady myself and reign in my thoughts, which are currently as incoherent as my stammers. "Are you certain?"
She nods solemnly, looking down at her flat stomach.
"There's no mistake about it," she murmurs.
Maker's breath.
Suddenly, a bout of several brief bursts of disbelieving laughs bubble up my throat. Evelyn's eyebrows rise high as she watches my reaction, and I reach out to touch her lower abdomen with both hands. I raise my eyes to her face, smiling warmly at her before kneeling down before her, my hands reverent against her body. To anyone who would walk in on us now, it would appear to be an act of worship to them. And they would not be wrong.
"Maker's breath," I whisper, shaking my head in disbelief as I lightly massage the area. "Maker's breath!"
I laugh out in joy again, cradling her waist and gently embracing her, resting the side of my face against her womb.
We are having a child.
This woman whom I love—whom I would lay down my life for- is carrying our child.
"I can scarcely believe it," I whisper, closing my eyes as the warmth of her body radiates against my cheek.
"Cullen..."
I turn my face and kiss her there, letting my lips linger against her body. I then look up at her and stand up, taking her hands in mine and bringing them up to my lips. The troubled expression on her face raises yet another red flag, and it worries me instantly.
"Evelyn, what's wrong?" I ask, my smile fading to be replaced with a troubled frown to match her own. "Is there something wrong with the child?"
"No," she shakes her head slowly. "I—I can't keep it, Cullen."
I lower her hands from my lips, and I can physically feel the stunned expression on my features.
"I-I'm sorry, but I seem to have misheard you, Evelyn. You can't keep it?"
She sighs and slips her hands away from my now limp hold, and she anxiously tucks her hair behind her ears and clears her throat.
"No, you heard me perfectly fine," she responds curtly. "I cannot keep the child. Not right now. Not with the state that the world is in. Not with my role in it."
All I can do is stare at her, my mouth wordlessly opening and closing as though I were a fish in water.
"I'm sorry, Cullen," she murmurs, squinting her eyes under the bright glare of the afternoon sun. "But we never planned for this. You know that. I must have forgotten to recast the contraceptive spell somewhere along the line."
"We never planned for it, but that doesn't mean that it shouldn't happen," I retort calmly. I reach out to touch her, but she turns her face away, stopping me halfway. If I felt as though I was kicked in the guts when she said she wouldn't keep our child, this gesture felt like a dagger through my heart.
"Evelyn, please-"
"No!" She glares up at me, anger brimming her dark eyes. "You don't understand, Cullen! You'll never understand! How could you? You're a man who will never have to worry about carrying another soul within you. You don't know the dangers, the risks that the child and I would inherently face should I decide to keep it. It could die. It will die. You didn't fight Corypheus in Haven. You didn't see the way he flung me around, as though I were nothing more than a mere rag doll. My greatest and most dangerous task lies ahead, and I will not jeopardise the chances of my success and Thedas' safety for the sake of a barely formed and dare I say entirely unplanned embryo."
I stare at her, my lips pressed into a stern line as she continues to glare up at me, as though challenging me to manufacture another retort against her wishes. I allow her words to sink into me, and it does not take long for me to see the truth and validity of them.
"You're right," I finally concede, but I cannot erase the stern expression etched onto my face. "I was wrong and selfish to insist otherwise. Forgive me."
Her face softens visibly, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Thank you," she tells me softly. "I knew you would understand."
I nod curtly and ignore the stinging in my eyes.
"And when are you planning on proceeding with...it?" I ask her.
"This evening," she responds gravely. "With Morrigan. She's done it before. No one else knows about this, by the way. Just you and Morrigan. I'd like to keep it that way."
"Of course," I offer her yet another curt nod, much like the one I employ with my soldiers. She furrows her brow at my sudden cold and distant manner, but says nothing of it. "Is there anything else you would like to tell me?"
She looks at me in silence with pursed lips.
"No," she responds.
I bow my head low, my eyes fixed on the balcony floor beneath us.
"Then allow me to take my leave," I tell her as politely as I can through gritted teeth. I retreat from the balcony and turn away from her without meeting her eyes.
"You're leaving?" she asks, following me back into her bed chamber. "Where are you going?"
"I have a number of matters to attend to," I respond without turning around, intent on leaving her quarters as soon as possible. I pause before descending the staircase, my trembling right hand forcefully gripping the banister to steady myself. I was not aware that my entire body is shaking. I force myself to look at her, and it physically aches me to leave her in such a manner, despite the nightmare that she has just thrust me into. "I only wish I could have gotten a say in the matter," I tell her quietly. "I thought I deserved that much."
And without waiting for a response or reaction out of her, I descend the stairs and stalk straight back to my office, entirely oblivious to my surroundings. When I am finally back inside, I shut the door behind me and stare ahead at the flickering candle on my desk before slowly making my way to the desk. I do not realise the toll the news has taken on me until my knees give way beneath me, and I stumble towards the polished wooden surface, my hands grasping onto the edge to steady my trembling body. I close my eyes and force myself to take in deep, steady breaths, and I shiver when the cool breeze blows through the opening in the wall, caressing my now clammy skin.
I feel numb. Hollow. Empty. I don't know what to think. I have somehow managed to experience every emotion under the sky in the past half hour—from shock to surprise to disbelief to pure and absolute euphoria... only to be quickly replaced by shock and disbelief yet again, before dissipating into anger, even. Anger directed at her. At myself. At Thedas.
At Corypheus.
My blood boils at the thought of that monstrosity, and I slam my fist against the desk, causing everything on it to rattle and shake.
"Commander?"
My head snaps around to see one of my soldiers awkwardly standing by the door.
"What is it?" I snarl, a pang of guilt shooting through me when I see the soldier flinch at my tone.
"The troops are all ready for combat training, Commander," he responds. "Would you like us to start without you?"
I wipe my brow and clench my jaw, determined not to tremble before my men.
"No, that will not be necessary, Thomas," I respond steadily, approaching the young man by the door.
"Ser Alistair said he could oversee the training in your stead if you were occupied, Commander," the soldier continues.
"I'm your Commander, Thomas," I say as we step out onto the battlements. "The only matters I should be occupied by are my troops."
"Yes, Commander."
When we arrive at the training area, Alistair and Iron Bull are in the midst of a very enthusiastic duel—enthusiastic enough for Alistair to have stripped out of his armour, remaining solely in his breeches and boots. My troops surround them as they cheer on the men animatedly.
"Come on, Chief!" Krem's voice booms out across the courtyard. "You're getting pounded out there!"
"Shut it, Krem!" the qunari growls, jaw clenched and good eye narrowed at the Grey Warden before him.
Under any normal circumstance, I would be thoroughly amused by this spectacle. I dare say I may have even been tempted to join them. But in my current state, I barely raise an eyebrow as I cross my arms and look at them, but I don't really see anything other than Evelyn backing away from me on her balcony after telling me the news, brown hair lit up into dark gold under the glaring afternoon sun.
"Cullen!" Alistair calls out, rousing me from my reverie. "Join us!"
"Yeah, come on, Cullen!" Bull roars. "Let's show those Grey Wardens who's boss!"
I force a weak smile onto my face, and that small gesture alone seems foreign to my facial muscles.
"I'm afraid not," I respond politely. "I've got a long afternoon of combat training to get through. Speaking of which...troops! To your training stations. I am certain we have seen this particular duel enough times by now."
Alistair takes advantage of Bull's momentary distraction and bashes him to the ground with his shield, bringing an end to the amicable fight.
"Good one," Bull grins as he allows Alistair to help him get back up from the ground. "You know you're good when you take a Ben-Hassrath by surprise. You Grey Wardens aren't so bad after all."
"No, that's just me," Alistair smiles smugly. "And my wife. We're special like that."
"Still up for that drink you owe me, Chief?" Krem grins.
"Yeah," Bull smiles. "You two should join us," he tells me and Alistair.
"I think I will," Alistair responds. "I'll just stick around here a little longer. Make the most of the day while I'm still sober." He winks at me as Iron Bull and Krem head towards the tavern, and I purposely turn my back to him and face my troops to deflect any chances of being questioned.
My Commander facade automatically sheathes me, and I conduct the combat training session as though everything was all right. Alistair remains true to this word and remains with me, assisting with the training and otherwise leaving me entirely alone. The sneaky side glances he keeps directing my way do not go unnoticed by me, however, so I am not at all surprised when I see him approaching me at the conclusion of the session.
"Alistair, I really don't-"
He puts his palm up, silencing me mid-sentence.
"I'm not here to question and pry, Cullen," he tells me gravely. "I know you well enough by now to realise when you are not up to talking. But allow me to share something that a very wise and beautiful woman shared with me ten years ago: this too shall pass. Whatever it is, however difficult or disheartening, it will pass and be but an unpleasant memory. Maker knows I've been through trying times in my life so far. I know what I'm talking about. And so does the woman I now have the absolute privilege of calling my wife."
I stare at him, taken aback by the profundity of his words.
"I...thank you, Alistair," I finally manage to croak.
He smiles and wipes the sweat off his brow as he begins to back away towards the tavern.
"Don't thank me," he says. "Thank my wife. When you see her, that is. You will be inviting her to your wedding, I presume?"
Despite my distraught state, I somehow manage to genuinely smile, albeit weakly.
"Is that even a point of debate?" I ask him wryly. He laughs lightly in response as he turns around towards the tavern.
"No," he smiles. "No, of course it isn't."
This is madness. Torture. I don't know how much more of this I can take. The ritual must be complete by now. Evelyn said Morrigan would be conducting it over the course of the evening. It is nearly ten now.
I wanted to check in on her before it happened. I wanted to talk her out of it. To beg her to see sense. I wanted to be there, to hold her and promise her that everything will be all right. I wanted to be there and hold her hand through the ritual, to be the solid warmth and protection that she surely needed at what must have been a harrowing experience.
But I couldn't go. I couldn't bring myself to doing so. Several times I broke the mad pacing I had been conducting in my office and bolted to the door, only to freeze with my gloved hand on the door knob and resume my senseless pacing. But when the clock strikes ten, I know I cannot hide any longer.
"To hell with this," I mutter beneath my breath, and I fling open the door and stride straight to the Chantry courtyard. Once there, my eyes scan the garden, looking out for any sign of Morrigan. I prowl the gardens like a lion in search of his prey, adamant on receiving some answers from the witch herself. I quickly realise with a sinking heart that she may have already retired to her quarters, and I would never presume to intrude on her in such a manner.
Perhaps she is in that room housing the eluvian? Perhaps she-
"Time for a nighttime stroll, I see."
Thank you, Maker. Thank you.
I see her glinting jewels before I see her face in the dim moonlight. Her yellow eyes watch me with great interest and curiosity, and a small smile plays on her darkly painted lips.
"I wanted to talk to you," I tell her.
"Of that, I have no doubt," she responds, voice smooth as silk. "Ask your questions, and I shall endeavour to answer them as best I can."
She slowly lowers herself onto a bench, looking up at me patiently.
"I'm assuming the ritual is over?" I ask her.
"Indeed it is."
"How long ago?"
"During supper," Morrigan responds calmly. "It was the least likely time for us to be disturbed."
I nod and take a moment to collect my thoughts, my eyes drifting around the courtyard.
"How did it go?" I ask with hesitation. "I-is she all right?"
Morrigan stands up and slowly walks around the bench before crossing her arms over her chest and appraising me carefully.
"She is perfectly fine," she assures me confidently. "I would not have offered my services to her had there been the slightest chance of matters going awry."
"Is she in-"
"She is in her quarters, yes," Morrigan responds promptly. "That is where we carried out the ritual, and that is where she remains. I imagine she is asleep by now. But I also imagine she would not terribly mind your presence by her side, if that is what you wish."
I blink at her before uncomfortably looking away and rubbing the back of my neck.
"Is something the matter?" she asks.
I clear my throat and reluctantly meet her gaze again, letting my hand fall to my side.
"We...we didn't exactly part on the best of terms this afternoon," I admit guiltily, feeling like an absolute fool.
Morrigan takes a step to the side, freeing her face from the shadow of the gazebo pillars.
"She is not mad at you, if that is your concern," she responds soothingly.
I raise my brow, my eyes widening in disbelief.
"How could she not be?" I ask, directing the question more so to myself than to her. "The way I acted when she told me..." I close my eyes and shake my head in disgust. "I should have been there with her. I should have supported her no matter what-"
"Your reaction was perfectly reasonable, Commander," Morrigan interjects. "And quite expected. Trust me when I tell you that she bears you no anger or disappointment. It is only natural for you to have reacted in such a manner. It is—was-your child as well. Do not discount that important detail."
My features soften as I look at her, relief instantly washing over me.
"Thank you, Morrigan," I tell her with sincere gratitude.
"I only speak the truth, Commander. Good night." She smiles and slinks away towards one of the wooden doors surrounding the courtyard, her slender frame quickly disappearing into the shadows.
Not wanting to waste any more time, I too turn towards the door leading to the main hall, and by the time I am a mere few feet away from the throne, I break into a run, ignoring the few nobles mulling around with their seemingly relentless glasses of wine. I do not stop running until I am at the foot of the stairs leading up to Evelyn's quarters, my throat incredibly dry and my heart pounding within my chest. I very slowly and quietly shut the door behind me before I ascend the steps, taking great care not to make any noise in case she is asleep.
When I am far enough up the stairs to glance into her quarters, I see a dark silhouette lying on the bed, barely visible in the candlelight. I carefully approach her, grateful for the carpet that all but muffles my heavy footsteps. When I am close enough, I see that she is sleeping in a fetal position, with her back facing towards me. I hesitate, torn between climbing into bed with her and leaving her to rest alone. I almost turn on my heels and leave when she lets out a light sigh that freezes me in place.
Hearing her voice does something profound to me. It always has. The thought of leaving her suddenly becomes absurd, and I very tentatively pull my boots and armour off before climbing onto the bed with her, slowly edging towards her and lying on my side. I curl my arm around her waist and rest it there, closing my eyes as I feel the warmth of her body against mine and smell her scent that is so dearly imprinted into my memory. I feel her limp body stiffen against me, and I immediately kiss her neck softly to soothe her.
"It's only me," I whisper, brushing my lips against her ear. She instantly relaxes against me, and she turns her head to meet my gaze, her eyes wide and dark in the dim light. "Did I wake you?"
"No," she mumbles, turning her body around to face mine. "I was just dozing off."
I watch her silently for a few moments as I stroke her hair away from her face, barely aware of the small smile playing on my lips at the mere sight of her.
"H—how are you feeling?" I ask her hesitantly.
"Fine," she replies, her voice croaky in her weary state. "Tired, but fine."
"Are you tired from the ritual?"
"No," she sighs audibly, her warm breath caressing my face. "It's more of a mental exhaustion."
We spend another stretch of time in silence, and I have no doubt that our...our child is in both our minds.
"Did it hurt?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. She brings her fingers to my jaw and gently caresses it, the friction of my stubble loud in the silence.
"No," she replies softly. "I barely felt a thing."
"How long did it take?"
"Barely a few minutes."
And silence once again.
"So it's done," I say more so to myself than to her.
"It's done," she whispers. She takes in a sharp breath, as though preparing to say something, but decides against it.
"I should have been there," I tell her, my tone that of remorse. "Forgive me, I should have-"
"No," she cuts me off adamantly. I stare at her, surprised by the sudden strength in her voice. "I'm the one who should be asking for forgiveness. For the manner I treated you today. I was entirely too harsh. I should have understood the toll the news would have on you, I should have imparted with the news in a more-"
"Shh," I urge her softly, pressing my lips against her forehead. "You have done nothing wrong, my darling. You were anxious. I understand."
Her breath is hot against my neck, and I can feel it picking up its pace.
"It's gone," she whispers, her lashes fluttering against my neck. "Our child. I had to. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
My heart aches and my features twist in pain when she starts sobbing against me, her entire body trembling. I hold her close to me, slightly rocking her back and forth, fighting to remain strong for her.
"I love you," I whisper repeatedly into her ear, uncertain if she can hear me. "I love you."
just for clarification, the time frame between the betrothal party and the pregnancy news is around just over a week, give or take.