Their Labor of Love

"No!" screamed Sebastian as he fired a third arrow into Lorelai's assailant: the man crumpled to the ground beside Lorelai. Sebastian ran to her, stumbling that last few feet as he dropped to his knees, gathering her into his arms. "Darlin'?"

She was covered in scrapes and bleeding cuts, an arm grotesquely angled, and her torn dress caked with mud and debris. Dried blood had crusted onto a gash on her cheek. Her eyes were open and they briefly met her husband's before her own rolled back in her head, her body becoming limp.

"No! No, Darlin', no!" he cried, cradling her, kissing her brow. He felt her draw a breath and relief washed through him. "Fletcher! Fletcher!"

"I'm here!" answered the mage as he broke through the thicket behind them and stopped, seeing the dead man and Lorelai in the prince's arms. "Bollocks," he said softly, before rushing forward again.

Fletcher pressed two fingers to Lorelai's neck and felt the pulse there. "She alive," he said, his tone one of relief. "Lay her down, let me check her."

Nodding, Sebastian tenderly lowered her back to the forest floor. Fletcher began his examination as Cameron and the soldiers arrived.

"Oh, no, is she – " Cameron began, but Sebastian cut him off.

"No! She's alive!"

Fletcher closed his eyes in concentration, feeling Lorelai's belly. "There's movement," he said softly to Sebastian. "I'm going to cast a general healing spell, I want to make sure she and the child are stabilized before I check her injuries."

Cameron glared down at the dead assassin and lifted him with his boot, rolling the man's carcass onto its side until it rested against the strong arrow shafts lodged in it. Cameron then crouched on his knees, just next to Fletcher.

"Her arm looks bad," he observed, his eyes full of concern. "Shouldn't ye fix it?" he asked Fletcher.

The handsome mage didn't open his eyes, his attention intensely focused on his patient.

Cameron looked at Sebastian. "Does he hear me when he's doin' that?" he whispered as he watched Fletcher cast. "Did he see her arm? Shouldn't he mend it?"

Fletcher muttered a few more soft words and then opened his eyes, looking at Cameron. "Yes, I should, but I must address her internal injuries first."

"Ah, well, tha' makes sense. But her arm – "

"Is a tad useless if she bleeds to death, wouldn't you agree?" Fletcher asked, arching an eyebrow at the other man and then looking to Sebastian. "Ser, she has injuries inside her. I've repaired them, but it's delicate work. It would be far safer to cast a second and stronger healing spell, something I can't do without my staff and using lyrium, neither of which is with me."

Cameron gaped. "Why in the Maker's name wouldn't ye bring yer staff?"

Fletcher stared at Cameron.

"The bairn?" the prince asked as he stroked Lorelai's hair.

"From what I can sense, it isn't in distress, but I fear that labor may have begun."

Sebastian shook his head, his features tight with a mixture of worry and anger. "What do we do? Do we send someone for what ye need or do we take her home?"

Fletcher sighed, his hands again on Lorelai's swollen belly, his eyes slipping closed. "If we can do so without jostling her about, we should take her home."

"Cameron," Sebastian rasped. "Make it so."

The tall man leapt to his feet. "I'll have the men build a stretcher, and send someone back for a wagon."

Fletcher nodded. "That should be sufficient. We'll need to be careful."

"Cameron and I will carry her out," Sebastian answered. "No more harm will come to her."

Cameron hurried away, calling the soldiers with them to order.

Sebastian met Fletcher's eyes. "Can ye postpone the labor?"

"If it has truly begun, and by that I mean, the contractions I felt are not a temporary response to the princess's injuries, then no, I can't. I'm sorry, I know it's early. I'll do all that I can for the child."

The prince's nostrils flared, emotion warring in his eyes as they bored into Fletcher's. "It's not as early as we've allowed everyone tae think."

The mage blinked slowly, understanding the secret the prince had just shared was not done so lightly. "How far gone?"

"She's at her eighth month."

"That's good news then, if this advances. The baby will be bigger… which may be hard to explain."

"That is a bridge we'll cross when we come to it."

"Agreed."

The prince caressed his wife's cheek. "This is something we've guarded with care, Fletcher. If she delivers now, I will be forced tae ask ye tae tell a lie."

Fletcher smiled reassuringly. "Don't forget, I'm an apostate, ser. I understand the need to pick and choose who knows what, and when, better than almost anyone. You may count on my discretion."

Sebastian looked back down at Lorelai's pale face. "I'm in your debt."

xXx

The Qunari customer, it seemed, had indeed taken great exception to the hammer throwing dwarf and Fenris's afternoon proved more interesting than anticipated.

The towering horned man who had initially responded very reasonably to Captain Foster's intervention between himself and Arlo, the dwarven smithy. He'd even agreed to accept the apology of the other man and would have left peacefully.

Except, Fenris soon learned, that Arlo was an arse.

Arlo hadn't taken advantage of the respectable escape from the situation his hammer throwing had created, and to Foster and Fenris's horror, had thrown a second one at his Qunari customer.

It had gone downhill after that.

Now, a dozen bruised guardsmen, an unconscious dwarf and one destroyed storefront later, Fenris sat in his friend's office exhausted and nursing a swollen lip with a cold compress. Captain Foster groaned, chuckling and wincing at the same time before he moved a poultice from one blackened eye to the other.

"Fenris, the Maker surely does love me, because I have no idea how we'd have talked that fellow down from killing Arlo or into leaving this village if you hadn't been here today," Foster said with a shake of his head. He touched a fingertip to his left eye. "Bollocks, my face hurts."

Fenris inclined his head. "Our injuries contest the success our 'talk' had with the gentleman. However, I was glad to be of service, my friend."

"Service? You saved the damned day! I still can't figure out how you were able to knock that fellow down – he must have been nearly seven feet tall! I'm going to lock Arlo up for a month when he finally wakes up."

"I was most impressed by the dwarf's ability to throw hammers in such a skillful arc. And despite his vocation, I wonder at the seemingly endless supply of hammers he had to draw upon. It may be worth considering a limit to the quantity the man may own."

"That's not a bad idea," Foster answered with a small laugh. "How many did he get fired off before you caught him?"

"Four. My apologies that it took me so long to subdue him. Arlo is rather… spry."

"Spry? That dwarf was hopping around like a frog!"

Fenris grinned, despite his injured lip. "Ah well, at least the day did not prove mundane."

Reclining his head, Foster moved the poultice back to his other eye. "I like a little mundane. If I didn't, I wouldn't live here," he commented with a sigh. "So, we never did get a chance to talk about the latest scuttle on Anders, and now it's getting late. Why not stay overnight? The wife and I would be honored to have you as our guest, and it would give us the opportunity to chat."

Fenris nodded, grateful for the invitation. "I would be most pleased to accept your offer, Captain. I find that today's excitement has drained me of all my energy."

"Then it's only fair that I give you a chance to recover! That settles it, we'll head home where my wife can stuff you full of tea and good food. We'll make sure you get a good night's rest," Foster stated, rising to his feet. "Daniels!" he called out to his aide, who quickly arrived inside the captain's office. "We're heading out for the day. We'll be at my home if there's anything urgent, otherwise, I'll see you for the morning brief."

"Yes, ser!" Daniels answered. He turned to Fenris. "Ser? It's fortunate you arrived, as another letter came for you," he said, passing to Fenris the letters that the Guard had been holding for Fenris.

"My thanks, Guardsman," Fenris replied, taking the thick envelope from the other man. He recognized Aveline's handwriting and the ornate seal of her office bound the packet together. "Good evening."

Daniels left the office and Foster gathered his things. "See? Told you the Maker had something to do with you being here today. Blimey, he even made sure your mail got here," the captain said with a laugh. "Come on, I never did get my lunch. Let's go and see what my sweet wife is cooking up."

"Lead on," Fenris replied, tucking the newest letter into his chest plate where the other unread letters were stowed before following his friend outside.

xXx

Hours had passed since the attack. Lorelai's injuries were now healed, though her contractions persisted. Fletcher worked diligently to keep the princess as still as possible, casting several sleep spells on her: doing so would let his repairs to injuries stabilize and the slumber allowed her to remain pain-free during the contractions.

Upon arriving at the palace, he'd healed her arm - having carefully bound it before they'd left the woods – and he'd then discreetly sent a request to his Aunt Bailey for potions and his staff. Once those items had arrived, he'd done everything in his power to keep Lorelai comfortable.

The prince had yet to leave the suite. He'd stayed close to his wife, even as his various advisors had arrived, each speaking in low, urgent tones with him. He'd quietly issued orders to some, had conferred with Lord Avery, and had signed a few documents, all while at his love's bedside.

Fletcher had initially felt sorry for the new ruler of Starkhaven, regretting that the man couldn't worry and pace over his wife and unborn child in peace. It struck him though, that while Fletcher had been working to heal her, word of the horrendous attack on the Vael family had likely spread, and the mage wondered how soon it would be before whoever was responsible for it learned the princess had lived.

Justice was swift, Fletcher knew, but a scared coward was likely just as speedy. The intrusion upon the prince's time with his bride had seemed a great deal more reasonable after that.

Now, though, there was nothing more to do than wait.

Quietly, Fletcher watched the princess, noting that her brow had furrowed slightly with the latest contraction. Standing from his chair beside her bed, he placed a hand gently upon her belly, sensing the position of the baby.

"What? Has something changed?" asked Sebastian, startling Fletcher from his task.

The prince, who'd silently been praying at a small altar in a corner of the large suite, appeared at the mage's elbow.

"No, although I thought I saw her react to a contraction."

"Meaning what? That she can feel them, now? Despite the sleep you've put her in?"

"I believe she may."

"That would mean they're gaining strength."

"Yes, I agree, but I'm not able to make a true assessment without a midwife's aid."

"Then we shall send for one," Sebastian said, turning and walking to the door. He opened it and quietly spoke to a guard outside and then returned to the bedside. "Marie – Lady Avery – is here. She'll send word to her midwife."

"Ah, yes, Margaret. She impressed me with her understanding of things and seemed well versed in her field," Fletcher complimented. "What's more, she was discreet, something I've always appreciated in others."

Sebastian's eyes didn't leave Lorelai's features. "Aye." He turned and crossed the room, opening the door to the hall, a servant appearing instantly. Sebastian spoke softly to the man, who quickly bowed and left. Returning to his wife's bedside, he took her limp hand into his own, placing a kiss to her knuckles.

"Fletcher, if she must be delivered, is she strong enough to do so?" he asked quietly, his hand caressing Lorelai's.

"I'd prefer to cast a restoration spell on her, to be certain of it, but she's not in any danger, if that's your concern, ser."

The prince's eyes fluttered closed, his features tight. "That's always my concern," he whispered so softly, Fletcher wasn't quite sure he'd even heard him. In a stronger voice, Sebastian asked. "Will you wake her?"

"Yes, once the midwife checks her and can estimate how quickly things may go. I see no reason to rouse her now, though, as I'd only be asking her to wake up and be in pain."

Nodding, Sebastian carefully lowered Lorelai's hand to the coverlet. He cleared his throat and turned to Fletcher. "We believe we may know who did this to her, to poor Goran. I will need to leave Lorelai for a few minutes, though I will be gone only as long as I must. Lady Avery will join you and stay with Lorelai until I return."

"Yes, of course."

"If anything changes, even the smallest thing, tell one of the servants, they'll send word."

Fletcher inclined his head and watched the prince hurry through a side door of the suite. Sighing, Fletcher knelt over Lorelai and touched his cool hand to her face, then gently checked her pulse.

"How is she?" asked a feminine voice from behind him.

Fletcher turned to see Marie Avery standing just a few feet away. His answer nearly slipped his lips, but he realized with a start that he was now – whether he wished to be or not – the Court's healer.

Regardless of how he'd come into his role, a sense of protectiveness blossomed inside his chest.

It occurred to him that the other aspects of his position were unknown to him. Everything he knew of the Vael family, of the previous princes and their courts, was chatter he'd overheard from his aunt and mother. Considering he'd been raised at the Circle in Ferelden, his chances to listen in on those particular conversations were far and few between. Yet the stories always had a common thread – the court of Starkhaven was one brutal power struggle after another.

He didn't know who the Vaels trusted and he didn't know what the prince's expectations would be of Fletcher's discretion. What he did know was that they'd taken a very real risk by bringing him into their lives and he resolved not to return their gamble with a violation of their faith in him.

He must guard his personal knowledge of this family carefully, something he suspected would be not only be required of him, but something which was suddenly very important to him.

Besides, he was a healer, not a politician. His answers should reflect this.

"That is a question best answered by the prince, Lady Avery," he finally replied. "I hope you'll understand."

Marie nodded. "I do and you're wise to be cautious, Ser Mage," she answered quietly, her eyes fixed upon her friend. "Being careful in one's words is an asset. Especially at court."

He studied her for a moment. "Are things so unscrupulous?"

"They are. It's how Starkhaven works, or rather, it was," she explained, her tone flat. "Sebastian and Lorelai aim to change all that. We'd like to do our best to help them." Marie frowned, pointing at Lorelai. "Is she alright?"

Fletcher turned to his patient, concerned to see her face twisted in pain, her breath coming in loud gasps. "Send someone for the prince," he ordered, returning to Lorelai's side.

xXx

Evening had settled over the tiny village and Captain Foster and his wife, a pretty woman named Mary, had made Fenris very comfortable in their home. A hot dinner was being cooked, and Foster and his bride were working contentedly together in the kitchen.

Mary had refused to allow Fenris to help, and had ushered him to the small but welcoming guest room in their home. There he'd been told to stay, encouraged by the friendly woman to relax and rest until their meal was ready.

And so he sat upon the end of the soft bed, his cuirass and other armor exchanged for the well-made clothes Olivia had packed for him. He stared down at the letters which awaited his attention.

His reading was something he worked on as often as he could, though he still struggled with more complicated texts. These letters were from his friends and would carry news of both Hawke and of home.

Though Kirkwall did not feel like home to him any longer.

No, home had become something altogether different to him, and he hoped, as he reached for the oldest of the letters, that his friends would understand.

He opened them one by one and spent the next half hour reading the missives. He found himself smiling at Varric's, the mixture of news mingled with a few jokes and a large helping of gossip, written in such a way that he could clearly hear the dwarf's voice. On the whole, however, Varric had very little information regarding Anders to report. The abomination, it seemed, had crossed into Tevinter, his activities uncertain.

There were two letters from Aveline, one which inquired of his health and updated him on the general activities and happenings within Kirkwall. She managed to weave multiple reminders that she disapproved of his decision to hunt Anders into it before its close. It was the second letter, the one which Guardsman Daniels had received just today, that had him scowling.

In it was a letter from Hawke, and Aveline's brief letter with it stirred his ire greatly.

Fenris,

This arrived for you today and I'm sending it on with tonight's runners. I think it only fair to tell you I wrote to Hawke and told her you've left to follow our former companion. I expect she thinks even less of your hare-brained idea than I do.

Be safe and come home,

Aveline

He crumpled Aveline's letter in his hand, tossing it over his shoulder and onto the coverlet. Staring at the letter from Hawke, its seal unbroken and bearing the Vael family crest, he slowly picked it up, carefully cracking the waxen seal.

Standing, he moved to the small table near the bed, where a larger set of candles were lit and he began to read.

Dearest Fenris,

I hope that this letter finds you safe and well. I understand from Aveline that you've embarked upon an ambitious journey?

I'm frightened for you.

I've written this letter nearly a dozen times, trying to find the right words to say, but as I am still struggling and as this is the last piece of parchment I have, I've decided that eloquence, at least in this instance, is overrated.

Do you remember, so many years ago, when you asked me how one starts anew? We sat by your fire for most of that night, sharing stories from our lives, but then you asked me. My answer annoyed you, I could see it in your eyes. You'd hoped, I suspect, that I would impart some wisdom to you and I thought indignantly that I had.

I owe you an apology for that.

Starting over isn't entirely possible, I know that now. I think the phrase itself implies something of a clean slate, as if I can simply choose to change the circumstances of my life. As if everything that is ruined and sullied and lost will magically leave my mind and heart quietly, no fight or resistance.

How foolish I must have sounded to you.

I cannot erase what has happened in my past any more than one could simply wipe a scar off of one's skin. I'm marked by my choices, we all are, but these marks are our own. They're private and personal. And mine remind me every day of not only who I was, but who I now wish to be.

These scars are mine and mine alone. I've earned them, and they're mine to learn from, mine to harness. I know that I need them, they're part of me. And I know that you cannot take them away, no matter that your efforts are borne of everything that is so very good about you.

I'm not afraid anymore. I'd forgotten what that feels like, and the peace in it. I don't think I've really known it since my father died. I have that here, in this place and with this man.

I see Sebastian now. I see his grace and his steady heart and I am so much better for it. I feel the life inside me growing and I know its future will be shaped by goodness and love. Sebastian's love and mine.

I will never forget, and I'm determined that I will learn from all of this. The things that happened in Kirkwall are finished for me. I beg you to let them be so for you, too.

Go home, Fenris. Please.

I'll write more as soon as I am able and will post it to your address in Hightown. Please let me know where you are and, as always, be careful.

I miss you.

Your friend,

Lorelai

Fenris read the letter again, his mind and heart processing each word within. Folding the missive carefully, he laid it onto the small table and moved to his bed. Lying down, he folded his hands behind his head and stared up at the knots and details of the rough wood ceiling above him, waiting to be called to supper.

xXx

Sebastian arrived not long after he'd been summoned back to his wife's side, finding Fletcher, Marie and Marie's midwife, Margaret, with Lorelai. Margaret was concluding her exam as Sebastian entered the room and, glancing over her shoulder at him as she drew the bed sheet back over Lorelai's legs, turned to greet him.

"How is she?" he demanded as he paced by the bedside. "Is she safe? Is the bairn coming?"

"It is, your Highness," the midwife replied as she rose. "The contractions are steady but no' too strong. I'd say we're half way there, ser."

Sebastian shook his head, uncertain of what she was telling him. "Half way?"

"She's making nice progress, her pains are timely but no' yet powerful enough tae push the bairn into this world. Her waters are broken; things are goin' along as they should," Margaret explained. "It's a miracle after that crash she was in, but as far as I can see, she and the child are well. The babe is a good size too."

Marie observed how Sebastian's eyes narrowed at the mention of the crash and hurried forward. "Not quite a miracle," she interjected, gesturing to Fletcher. "He rode out with Sebastian and Cam, healed her before they returned. He's a wonderful healer."

"Divine intervention, then, but all the same, there will be a new Vael come sun up!" Margaret replied, smiling at Sebastian, who did not return it. Her smile slipped. "Ah, I'm very honored tae help yer bairn make his way into it, ser."

Sebastian, realizing his mood was making the midwife uneasy, inclined his head. "We're very grateful you're here, madam. Fletcher will be your aide tonight."

"Aye, we'll do well together, ser."

Fletcher bowed slightly to Margaret. "Indeed, we shall."

Sebastian ran his fingers through his chestnut hair, his tension apparent with the gesture. "Ye say that she'll be delivered by morning?"

Margaret glanced at Lorelai. "I believe so, though these things tend tae change. Bairns sometimes have a mind o' their own."

Marie studied Sebastian for a moment before moving to his side. "Margaret? Fletcher? Would you excuse us for a moment?" she asked. The others complied and Marie led Sebastian a few more steps away for privacy. "Sebastian? Are you all right?" she asked in a lowered voice.

His sharp blue eyes darted to hers, though he didn't answer.

Marie continued, concerned at his intensity. "I know that everything surrounding this birth – this child – is complicated, but that is entirely separate from its actual delivery. Lorelai is fine. She's strong and her heart is yours. She has all that she needs and you've done what you can for them. Everything will go properly."

He cleared his throat, his features taut. "That this even happened," he hissed, shaking his head. "Things are close, Cam believes we've got the bastards. We understand the scope of what happened tae her – tae Goran – today. I cannot describe how sickened I am, how violent I feel."

She grasped his arm. "There's still time before they'll wake her. Go, find Cameron and see to the nasty business of today's tragedy, close the net on those vile people who tried to harm her and then return to your family. I will be here, I will not leave her side."

"Marie – "

"Take this time to destroy this threat. Let her awaken to you and to your assurances that those behind this are stopped."

He drew a shuddering breath. "I won't be far."

"And I will send word if you're needed. Return when you're certain your family is safe."

Sebastian's nostrils flared, a myriad of emotion on his face. "Thank you."

With one last glance at his sleeping wife, the Prince of Starkhaven left their suite, and Marie, sending a quick prayer to Andraste, returned to Lorelai's bedside.

xXx

The sky was full of stars, the moonless night allowing the twinkling vibrancy of the lights above Fenris to shine clearly. He was seated on an old stool outside of Captain Foster's home, his belly full of a flavorful stew, a glass of sweet wine in his hand.

"You're awfully quiet tonight."

Fenris turned to see Foster stepping through his front door. He approached and settled into the empty stool to Fenris's left.

"There a reason? Those letters, maybe? Is all well at home?"

The elf sighed, considering the unintended significance of his friend's words. "I believe that it is."

"You believe? What's that mean?"

"I'm not entirely sure, yet."

Foster arched an eyebrow. "Cryptic mood, eh?"

Fenris chuckled. "I had not intended to be cryptic, my friend. I am more… reflective."

"Ah. So I suppose that means I should ask just what you're reflecting on."

"Only if you truly wish to know."

Foster grinned, shaking his head. "I'm listening."

Fenris sat forward on his stool, his elbows braced on his knees as he gazed up at the clear sky. "May I ask you a question?"

Foster shrugged. "Alright."

"How does one start over?"

"How do you mean? In life?" Foster asked, looking thoughtful when Fenris confirmed. "I guess the first thing you'd have to do is be through with the old one."

Fenris, his eyes still on the stars, nodded. "And if the choice was not your own? If the old one was taken from you and the circumstances were not of your own making? Then how?"

Foster studied the elf before arching an eyebrow. "Whose life are we talking about? Yours?"

"A friend's. A good friend who deserves a second chance."

"Did he get it? That second chance?"

The elf shifted, looking over at Foster. "I believe she did."

"Well, then my thinking would be the same. Get on with the new, leave the rest behind you, where it belongs."

"And if a person suffered regrets?"

Foster stood and slowly walked a few steps away, moving to lean against a nearby tree. "My gran used to say that if you did your best in the situation you were given, then that was all that anyone could ask or do. If you looked back on a thing, regretting the outcome, then you'd missed the point of it all."

"What, then, is the point?"

"Learn from it. So that next time your best is better. That you're better."

"A wise grandmother."

"Sometimes," Foster agreed with a half-hearted smile. "She was a drunk at the end, so who knows, it coulda been the whiskey pontificating. Still, I suppose if you could learn something from whatever hell you've been through, it has a new purpose. It changes what it was, makes it less – "

"Worthless," Fenris rasped, his face betraying how troubled his heart was.

Foster, concerned for this man who he'd come to respect and like, watched Fenris for a moment and realized that their conversation was far from easy for his friend. Rapping his knuckles against a tree branch, he cleared his throat. "You've been through the wringer and you're due some good rest. Maybe it's best I let you get to bed, leave these thoughts for another time."

Fenris stood and came to Foster's side. "Wait, please. I did not mean to… " the elf said quickly, then his words tapered off as his brow furrowed. "My friend, it seems that she is content in her new life. Her feelings are that she is becoming who she was intended to be."

Foster nodded. "Is this friend why you're out here?" The captain smiled slightly at Fenris's startled look. "It's alright, Fenris, Captain Vallen explained to me that you're not actually in the Guard."

Blinking slowly, Fenris felt the tips of his ears heat as embarrassment at being caught in his lies fired through him. "Captain Foster, please accept my most sincere apology. It was not my intent to abuse my – "

"Don't," Foster said quickly, cutting off Fenris's words. "She told me you were investigating things, trying to piece together how Anders survived, that sort of thing. So, then I did a little sleuthing, and I realized just who you were, who you were known to run around with in Kirkwall. I imagine, given the circumstances, I'd tell a few tales myself, if I'd been through what you and your friends had."

The elf met the human's gaze. "I apologize for my deception."

"No apology needed. I just hope that if someone I cared about was in the kind of danger Champion Hawke was in that I'd have the balls to do the same as you."

"Thank you."

"From what I hear, though, the Champion is married and settled in Starkhaven."

Fenris offered a small smile. "She is. I have had a letter from her: she is happy and well. She urges me to return to Kirkwall."

"You mean she 'urges' you to end the hunt."

"I believe so, yes."

"The phrase 'Life goes on' comes to mind. Is this why you're being so quiet? She's asked you to call it a day?"

"I am confused by my feelings in this."

"Ah," Foster said.

"Ah?" Fenris repeated, looking at his human friend. "What do you mean by 'ah'? I've not explained to you my confusion."

"You're not sure you're ready to stop the search, even though she's asking you to."

The elf nodded. "I am gratified that Hawke is safe, that she is content. She wishes me to seek my own contentment. This request is a good thing and yet I hesitate. Should I not be pleased? Should I not race back to Kirkwall?"

"Yes. So why are you sitting in my garden, brooding?" the captain asked, his tone gentle. "What's holding you back?"

"Anders has not paid for his crimes," Fenris spat, his eyes flashing in anger. "He murdered dozens. He loosed apostates upon this land, apostates who will assuredly resort to the most disgusting of means to retain their freedom!"

"Yup."

"He used her, twisted her around his little finger! He made a fool of her, a mockery of her good name! Parading around Kirkwall, his arrogance knew no bounds as he hid behind her courage, her honor! He claimed to be our friend, he claimed to be one of us! But I saw him for the charlatan he is, I warned her he was little more than a killer! We all did and look what came to pass!" he seethed, his hands balled into fists. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Yet now she wishes to act as if nothing has happened, everything is back in its place. How can I allow this to occur?"

"Fenris? Why you were out here looking for Anders in the first place?"

Fenris locked his gaze with Foster's. "To protect Hawke."

Foster shook his head. "If it was as short an answer as that, then we wouldn't be having this discussion," he replied, stepping back to his home. "What you need to understand is why you've placed this burden so squarely on your own shoulders, especially when the person who should be carrying it is askin' you to put it down. Answer that, and then you'll know what to do."

xXx

Sebastian sat a few feet away from the bed that held his laboring wife. He'd returned not long ago, just as dawn had begun to break. Cameron, and the few men that Sebastian trusted, were at that very moment executing a multitude of arrest warrants. By day's end, the rest of the plot against his family would be fully destroyed. All would be well, he mentally assured himself, but he still struggled to contain his fear. Lorelai had nearly been murdered, and Goran lost.

"All will be well," he muttered to himself, his eyes on his wife's features as he stood. The delivery would go as it should and the worst was behind them. He would not allow his anxiety to prevail over his faith.

She was beautiful to him, even now – her hair disheveled, her skin flushed – he admired the sculpted curve of her cheekbones. He studied the shape of her swollen body, the smallness of her frame, and he swallowed hard, willing away the vivid memories of Marie's horrific delivery.

His eyes moved to the new court healer and he sighed, knowing the man's skill had already been proven. Fletcher and Margaret agreed it was time to awaken Lorelai, her injuries fully healed and the progress of her labor sufficient enough that her participation would soon be required.

"Will you rouse her now?" he asked in a strong voice, drawing Fletcher's attention.

The mage met his gaze. He'd been organizing a small area dedicated to ensuring he'd be prepared to handle any possible crisis during the labor. His staff was set to the side, along with several healing potions, poultices and vials of lyrium. He gestured to them, a small smile on his face. "Do me a favor and don't ask where those came from," he said as he joined the prince at the princess's bedside. "As to your question, ser, I can wake her now, she's ready."

Sebastian's brow furrowed. "Will she be in pain?"

"Not from her injuries, no ser, those are fully healed. She'll experience the pain of the labor, though."

Nodding, Sebastian moved to Lorelai, taking her limp hand into his own. "She expected that, she knows that all women must endure it."

"Then as long as Margaret is prepared, I see no reason we can't bring her out of her sleep." Fletcher paused, seeming to study Sebastian. "I must ask you though, are you ready for the princess to awaken?"

Sebastian felt a spike of indignation and his eyes were flashing as he met the mage's eyes. "Of course I am."

Fletcher inclined his head, sensing the distraught man had misunderstood the point of his query. "What I mean, ser, is that when she wakes, she'll have no memory of most of today. She'll recall nothing from the moment after I first cast her to sleep in the woods. She will be disoriented, and will very likely awaken in the grips of the emotions she was experiencing when we found her."

The prince looked at his still-peaceful wife. "She'll be afraid," he said softly, remembering the horrific sounds of her screams before he'd finally reached her.

"Terrified, and more than likely, she'll believe her life – and that of the babe – to still be in real danger. When she opens her eyes, she'll be in a very different place mentally than she is physically. It will be overwhelming, especially if she doesn't sort it all out before a contraction hits her. She will need you, in every way that a person needs the one they love."

Sebastian nodded and moved past Fletcher to the bed, his long fingers grazing Lorelai's brow. "Margaret? Are ye ready to care for my bride and bairn?" he called out, not bothering to look over his shoulder.

"Aye, ser, I am."

"Fletcher, please ask Marie tae join us again. Lorelai will find her a great comfort."

The mage bowed slightly and moved to the suite's door, opening it and gesturing once. Marie immediately entered the room, her countenance calm, and her features serene. She offered a small smile to Sebastian and joined him on the opposite side of Lorelai's bed.

Sebastian moved to Lorelai, so he was seated against her, pressed his lips to her flushed cheek. "Wake her, Fletcher. I'll keep her safe."

Thank you, Lisa for the booting and the double beta :)

Thanks for reading! I hope y'all know how much I appreciate each review, alert and favorite. THANK YOU!

And a cyber high five if you spot the references to the best sci-fi world of all time...