"I'm pregnant."
Two words echoed off the walls, resonating through the silence to the recipient of the news. Caoilainn opened her eyes to see Alistair staring back slack-jawed.
"Huh?" Baffled, he could only mutter the incoherent question.
Breathing in silence, lacking the courage to restate her admission, Caoilainn only nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted an amused grin spreading on Morrigan's face. The rest of the table gawked at the royal couple.
Red cheeks contrasted Caoilainn's wide blue eyes staring at Alistair, deciphering his disbelief. She reached for his hand, but he squeezed his palm shut and inched it away. More betrayal, the impact of another lie caused harm.
"Well, this is an unexpected turn." Garrett Hawke quipped from his corner, resting his elbows on the table. He grinned, propping his chin over his hands "So who's the father?"
Eyebrows lifting, Nate glanced at the ceiling. His blank stare lingered; expression neutral, the Warden Commander inhaled and stood. "It seems this meeting is finished. I will be… elsewhere until otherwise needed."
The glare of the sorceresses at Hawke did not falter as Nate left the room. Their heads shook at the unabashed champion who squinted as he watched Nate leave. Returning his attention to the women, Hawke shrugged. "What? By the look on his majesty's face it's a reasonable question."
"Imbecile," Philippa scolded Hawke. "The surprise results from being cured of the taint.
"I propose we recess this meeting. There's nothing else to discuss aside from who our travel party will include." The former Grand Enchanter rose, addressing the other mages. The women nodded and Hawke gave a deflated sigh, displeased with his new source of entertainment ending.
"'Tis a wise plan. It seems the King and Queen are overdue for a conversation."
Morrigan mirrored the motion of the other woman, standing and tilting her head to the other attendees. She put her hand on Caoilainn's shoulder. "You know where to find me."
Hawke and Philippa continued quibbling the details of Alistair's reaction on the way out of their room, following Fiona and Morrigan into the great hall; Nathaniel was nowhere in sight. Morrigan led the procession, only the footsteps of the group interrupted their silence, until Morrigan ushered them into a small sitting room. A few chairs faced the center, each mage sat until the Witch of the Wilds shut the door behind her with a pointed click.
"Your ignorance and idle words make a dangerous combination, Champion." She strode to the last empty chair in the small room.
Hawke chuckled, reclining back with his hands behind his head. "What can I say? It's a gift."
Settling in to an armchair, Philippa admonished Hawke, "We've a long trip ahead of us and you are inclined to make enemies before we depart. You should mind your tongue, young man."
"I'm well aware of what I do with my tongue, thank you." He rested his foot on his knee as he relaxed, unencumbered by the women's warnings.
"Enough." Fiona spoke with a calm tone, non-aggressive but direct. She glanced around the room. "We need to determine what supplies we will need, potions, and spells to heal the Wardens depending on what we find."
"My tomes of course," Philippa reflected Fiona's declaration with her own advice, "for reference."
"Useless," Morrigan snipped, rolling her eyes to Philippa. "You'll find nothing in your books accounting for the unexplainable. Warden magic is beyond the scope of circle mages."
Eyes narrowing, Philippa frowned. "Pity you underestimate the value of my texts. I assume the Witch of the Wilds was not taught how to read?"
Shaking her head, Morrigan scoffed. Before she could reply, Hawke chuckled. "Who's not minding their tongue now?"
Philippa snorted, irritated with the man's remark, but Fiona intervened again. "Please, we don't have time for these petty debates. We'll take only what is most necessary."
"Magic is not so complicated. Access to the Fade is innate and herbs you will gather along the way," Morrigan sighed.
"Your experience with seasonings will undoubtedly be useful, but I'd rather not gamble with blight magic on instinct alone," Philippa said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Whoa," Garrett Hawke lifted his hands, "We're not using blight magic, are we?" Genuine concern resounded from the jovial mage.
"We're not using blight magic." The former Grand Enchanter reiterated his question as a statement.
"Not necessarily," Philippa waved away their unease, "but what connects the darkspawn connects the Wardens. I must have reference to it."
Sideways glances passed between Hawke and Fiona, but they did not argue.
Morrigan's eyebrow rose. "You'll navigate magical seasonings without my help." She thrummed her fingers on the arm of her chair and glanced toward the door. "I reserve my mana for aiding the Queen, wherever she may be on this trip."
Confused stares faced her; Philippa's mouth opened, prepared to challenge Morrigan's decision. Chuckling, Hawke answered, "Have no fear, ladies. I'll be all the apostate you need."
Resounding scoffs and rolled eyes followed his statement, but the mages continued their discussion, considering the minimal magical requirements for the trip to Weisshaupt. Morrigan remained quiet.
The sound of the door shutting reverberated through the silence around the royal couple, still seated in their chairs at the corner of the meeting table. Astonishment marked Alistair's face, and Caoilainn stared sheepishly. A moment later, he croaked, "Pregnant? As in, 'with child'?"
Lips pursed, consternated in the delivery of this heavy news, she confirmed with only one word, "Yes." Alistair's eyes tracked right to left, scanning his mind, searching inward for missing information to make sense of what she admitted.
Doubt caused trepidation; Alistair delayed his reply. "But how?"
"The cure worked," she shrugged, shaking her head to dismiss the irrelevance of the question. Caoilainn gave a mildly annoyed laugh, "I don't think I need to tell you where babies come from-"
"You're sure it's mine?"
The question knocked the wind out of her; a cold blow to the chest. Caoilainn's eyebrows wrinkled and she looked away, another wave of tears swelled. This is not how this was supposed to go.
Flinching at her reaction, aware of the damage it caused, Alistair added a subsequent inquiry, "Ours, I mean? I'm sorry, Caoilainn, but with all these secrets..."
"Yes," she sighed. I suppose I deserved that. Blinking to look at him before staring back at the wall, she remarked, "It's your child."
The images she had predicted of his exuberant reaction dissolved, vanishing completely with his refrained response. Alistair only frowned, his brow creasing in thought after she confirmed the child's paternity. Her heart sank.
"A baby," Alistair mumbled, gnawing on the inside of his lower lip. Humming agreement, Caoilainn swallowed. "How long have you known?"
"A month." She put her thumb between her teeth and bit down, diligent in the determination of her next statement. "I didn't want to…" she clutched her hand shut, "to distract you from-" Her words tiptoed on the sensitive subject of their discourse and her rationalized deceit before trailing off.
"You didn't want the news I am having a child to pressure me into forgiving you?" He made sense of her sparse words, understanding her irrational nature.
She nodded. "You have every right to be angry with me."
"I'm glad you agree." Alistair gave a sarcastic chuckle, his hand rising to his forehead and brushing past his hairline. Shock lessened to disappointment. "But not telling me something this… big. Maker's breath, Caoilainn. How do you justify that?"
With a huff, Caoilainn crossed her arms and sighed, "Why would I tell you anything? Lately you've been nothing but a royal ass to me."
"Royal ass? Really?" He pushed his chair away from the table and stood. Taking time to consider his response, he faced away from Caoilainn. "And that is not an excuse. It's not your decision what I can't handle, especially not as punishment for being angry with you."
"It wasn't punishment!" Caoilainn's voice rose, retorting to Alistair's back. Stay calm, she reminded herself, grabbing the handles of her chair to keep her from standing and screaming at him. "I told you: you have a right to be angry, but I have a right to protect myself."
Groaning, frustrated with her obstinance, Alistair shook his head. "For the love of-"
"What?" The urge to escalate this argument won. She stood up, the feet of the chair scraping on the stone floor. Cheeks hot, she blinked back tears. "How can we raise a child together if we hate each other?"
Alistair turned to face her, glaring with extended hands, palms facing. "You are such an infuriating woman." He extended an exhale. The prominent veins in his forehead exposed his agitation. But both aware of the unhealthy level of her agitation, he offered half-hearted advice, "You should calm down."
"Do you want to be with me?" She snapped the question, her voice trembling; the blatant avoidance of her prior inquiry only stirred her pain. A few tears slid down her cheeks.
The reflex of her hand covering her belly occurred without thought, but Alistair closed his eyes, apparently pained by the gesture. "Do I have a choice?"
His words stung and her jaw dropped. Her other hand covered her chest, providing meager soothing to the growing pit. His response suggested the future of their marriage reduced to an eternity of apathy and obligation, cold shoulders and strained civility. Unable to divorce an irreparable union, trapped, tied to their duty to the kingdom and the image they had to uphold. She had barely survived his blatant disaffection for the last month, enduring it for the rest of her life wrought fear.
Caoilainn murmured, "I don't want to lose the baby." Sadness strained the body; she feared the stress could harm the child.
He watched her waist and his expression softened. A teary, frustrated mist coated Alistair's gaze but he rubbed his thumb and middle finger against his eyes. "I need to think, Caoilainn, for both of us. I'm going to Weisshaupt."
Her belly tightened. "What?"
"I need you to stay here." He gave an irritated sigh, and squeezed his eyes shut. When they opened, their downward slope translated his remorse. "I don't want to lose the baby either."
"Alistair, I'll be fine. We can keep figuring this out. We should be back long before he's due." Caoilainn took timid steps toward him.
Alistair's breath hitched. "He?"
Pausing mid-step, close enough to touch him, Caoilainn reached her hand out to graze his arm. She nodded. "Morrigan said it was likely. Please, let me help the Wardens."
The sad turn of his head joined his hands lifting between them. He made it so she could not come closer. "Not this time. I'm sorry, Caoilainn. I won't risk it and I... I need time alone."
She stared, lips parted, unable to argue. Unspoken words, the confession of her apprehension around experiencing pregnancy alone fell short. Alistair made another sigh and walked around Caoilainn, exiting the meeting room.