Act 3: The part of the story where everything goes wrong.
Celia does not return to Denerim for the Landsmeet the following year, Loghain finds it suitable for her to remain in Gwaren during his absence. She is surprised by the brevity of his leave, she misses her husband dearly and yet while she is acting in his place she feels at ease.
Loghain returns before the first day of the year, Celia is not expecting the rush of joy she feels upon seeing him. She'd been reviewing trade documents from the previous year, in her personal study when she heard the telltale sound of boots clanking against the floor.
"You're not due back for another month." She smiles brightly, trying not to rush him with an embrace. His face is cold as he presses it into her neck.
"Well, there was no reason for me to remain and every reason for me to return." He responds, pulling back to kiss her. The chill on his lips doesn't bother her in the slightest, in fact it spurs her to cup his cheeks in her hands.
"Come warm up, you're absolutely freezing." She says ushering him to the fire, his laughter ringing through the walls of Castle Gwaren. It's jarring how quickly Celia has learned to switch gears from work to wife, but she doesn't dwell on it as she takes her husband's riding cloak. "How was the Landsmeet, darling?"
"It passed quickly and without incident, that was the most I could hope for." He smiles at her, a rare sincere kind of smile that leaves her aching for him. He removes his gloves, which she also takes and places on her desk chair.
"I hoped you would have said something to the effect of, 'I'm missed you terribly, wife, it was all too boring without you ruining everything'." She chuckles as he sits before the fire.
"You did not ruin everything, and I'll have you know I did miss you, terribly in fact." He looks at her with an amused sort of offense.
"Humor me then." She teases, leaning in for another kiss, taking his hands in hers to warm them just a bit faster.
"I came home just so I could see you, is that not enough?"
"Well, you could have tried a bit harder, but I'll accept that." She laughs against his lips, her hands bringing warmth to every patch of skin they touch. From the sides of his face to the back of his neck, "You could have caught your death out there you know."
"You were worth it." He assures her before placing his lips on hers once more. He's hungry in the way he touches her, hungry for warmth and touch, both of which she is ready and willing to give.
Her dress slides off with practiced ease, though they're careful not to toss their clothing into the fire, a mistake that can only be made once. In a series of kissing and tasting the other, they've wormed their way out of their clothing, Celia astride her husband positioned just so the tip of him barely reaching her entrance.
Her fingers draw a slow line up his length, all the while she smiles teasingly. "I missed you as well, husband, since you asked."
"I assumed the way you threw yourself on me." He laughs as evenly as man can when he's being touched just so by his bride.
"That's quite some talk for a man at my mercy." She leans in for another kiss, curling her fingers into the strands of his overgrown hair.
"Show me how much you missed me." He responds, with a smirk she slowly eases down onto him; the sound he makes mixes relief and pleasure to the point they sound harmonious.
Bucking her hips, she presses every sensitive spot between the both of them, moaning and breathy praises dance in the air as she does. Surges of excitement course through her, shaking her down to the bone before Loghain is ready for it.
"Were you so chaste for me wife? Did you pine for me often?"
In the aftermath of her pleasure, she sighs, "I did, I longed for your warmth in our bed. I dreamt of your hands touching me."
"Tell me why."
"Because… I'm yours." She sighs resting her head on his shoulder, he finishes inside of her and his bated breath joins hers. Hands trailing up and down the expanse of her back, Loghain kisses her cheek. They say nothing that touch cannot communicate, and they remain as such for longer than either of them expects.
Celia moves first, stands up to redress and call for dinner, to be sent up to their chambers. Loghain finds this amusing but makes no move to protest, he enjoys the company of his wife far too much to deny her. That night and any other night that she demands his attention.
She falls pregnant sometime around Drakonis, at least that's what she figures once she's gathered herself enough to think it through. It was a sudden thought, random at best, when she acknowledges how her cycle is never even a day late, and she is currently sitting on two weeks without. Perhaps she should have guessed it last week when she'd had sex with her husband and her breasts practically burned under his touch. Or even earlier than that the very day she was not met with blood.
Part of her wants to panic, to run to her husband's study and tell him the news; yet she remains stagnant, knowing in the back of her mind that no one speaks freely of pregnancy. Especially at the beginning of such a process, she's little experience in the matter of childbearing, but she does know that women hardly speak of the experience until it is long since over. Even her own mother spoke little of her pregnancies throughout Celia's young life.
In addition to these things, she isn't sure how the nobility treat this kind of condition, Loghain most certainly will not know, so why bother telling him? It will be for the best that she keep this quiet for now, she resolves, and continues on with her day.
In the following few weeks she begins to notice more changes, in her body and her mind. She feels ill and tired as she has heard from other women, but more than that she finds herself feeling more melancholy; crying throughout the day and unable to figure out why.
She holds a hope in her heart that her dear husband will notice her shift in attitude, but he doesn't seem to notice anything different about her. In fact, months pass by before he says anything, and it's an offhand comment at that.
A rude little quip about her behavior, that she's, "Really developed a delicate sense of humor in our later married life." He kisses her forehead when he notices how upset he's made her, and assures her he's only jesting.
Finally, as she nears her fifth month of pregnancy, she recognizes she can no longer keep the news from her husband. As she's dressing for the day she notices the telltale swell of her stomach, albeit small and still quite easy to conceal. It suddenly becomes clear to her that if she doesn't say something, her idiotic husband might not catch on until the babe arrives.
So, she goes to his study, resolute and shaking, as she thinks of the proper way to address her state. He hardly pays her any attention as she walks into the room, and the silence between them grows the longer she stands there.
"Yes, dear, what is it?" He asks not even sparing a glance in her direction.
"I need to speak with you." She says.
"I gathered that." He responds just as coolly and uninterested as before.
"I'm pregnant." She out and says not taking her eyes off of her husband for a second. Watching as realization washes over him, stalling all movement until he manages to look up at her.
"You're… You're pregnant?"
"I am."
"And you're… certain?" He looks baffled, like he can't even conceive the notion of them having a child together.
"I wouldn't be telling you so otherwise." She says resolutely.
He looks back down at the parchment before him, then returns his gaze to her, he repeats this agonizingly slow motion for a few turns. Then he finally says, "Oh."
"Oh?" Celia asks, part of her is unable to believe that this man could act this way. The other part of her is just surprised he's spoken at all.
"I don't know what to say." One hand reaches up to comb through his hair.
"That much is obvious." She responds, and notices that her hands rest on the little swell of life within her. An unconscious motion that nearly sends a chill down her spine; this isn't the first time she's recognized that she had never envisioned herself a mother, but this is the most visceral experience she's had since falling pregnant.
"H-how long?" He asks, his eyes landing on the position of her hands, confusion blatant in his staring.
"How long have I been with child, or how long until the babe is born? If it's the former about five months, the latter less than four I'd imagine." She says so confidently. Something about watching her husband falter makes her feel powerful, perhaps it is a gentle reminder that he too is only man.
"You… Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He asks, leaning back in his chair, his hands running down to the nape of his neck.
"I did not want to speak of it lest something went wrong."
He shakes his head letting out a long breath, his eyes have not left the vicinity of her middle, like he believes if he stares for long enough he'll see the babe within her. She moves first, walking right up to his desk and gently taking his hands, just so he'll stop running them through his hair.
"It's going to be okay, Loghain." She says.
He looks between her face and her stomach before taking his hands from her and touching the swell. His touch has never been so hesitant and the moment he does touch her, he pulls his hand away. "Maker, help me."
"I think he already has." Celia places her hand on his cheek and smiles softly.
Loghain nods once, seems to gather his courage as he places his hand back to their child, firmly this time she can feel the pressure and heat radiating off of him. The two of them remain still and silent as if they'll somehow figure everything out by saying nothing. However, they're not that kind of couple, the kind that can speak in the silences, they're far too alike and different for a love like that.
"I want you to come with me, to Denerim."
"I'm sorry what?" She asks.
"Please Celia, come with me."
"Why are we going to the Denerim?"
"For the Landsmeet." He says as if it's obvious.
"You… You can't possibly be serious."
"It will be safer for you deliver farther north anyhow, better doctors, a gentler winter."
"Are you genuinely hearing yourself?" She asks, "I'm in no condition to travel, Loghain-"
"I've made up my mind, dear." He finally removes his hands from her and stands up. "It's for the best."
"That fast? You could barely think a moment ago. How do you suddenly know what's best?"
"Celia, please." He takes her face roughly in both hands and kisses her, lips tight and so aggressive neither of them can breathe. When he releases her he whispers, "Just please don't argue with me."
"I think this is a mistake." She responds softly, though a part of her wants to cry.
"It isn't." His hands fall down her body, run across the expanse of her stomach and then to the small of her back. He pulls her close, holds her as tightly as he can manage and she holds back her tears as he does so. Why in the Maker's name did she think he'd react any different?
In the following days, Loghain has decided for them to leave for the capitol before the weather does not allow for smooth travels. Celia does not tell her family about the child, although during her last visit before leaving Gwaren her brother Dillon brings his fiancée; in the heat of excitement she almost announces her pregnancy. However, she represses the urge, knowing that it will only cause more of a ruckus than she's able to deal with.
They leave on what must be the last warm day in Gwaren, Celia cries as they go, unashamed in her emotional state.
Loghain acknowledges this briefly, "Everything's alright dear." He assures her.
"I'm glad you think so." She sniffles dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.
"There's nothing to be upset about."
"Of course, you would think that, no matter what happens you'll be alive at the end of this." She says bitterly, the words once born in the air are hard to hear. Nevertheless, she stands by them, staring her husband down as they lock eyes.
"You won't die Celia, your mother survived five births, you'll be just fine."
"Six." Celia says, "And I never said I feared for myself, darling."
Loghain puts his work aside and reaches across the carriage to grab her hand. "We're going to Denerim to better the chances for both you and the baby. You will not die away from home, and the child will live to see Gwaren. I want no talk of such things anymore, am I understood?"
"Just because I do not say it, does not make it any less a reality we may have to face, together or alone." She retorts, a sob stuck in her throat.
Loghain sighs as if he's speaking to a petulant child, "That's enough, your condition has your mind going all sorts of places it needn't be going to. You and the child will be just fine, read your book, it will ease your mind."
"Could you acknowledge my fears for just a second… Please?"
"Not when they're baseless and unwarranted. You've nothing to fear." He says, before leaning forward to kiss her hand. She takes in a deep breath as he resumes his work, eyes wandering back to the window. She spends the majority of the trip watching the countryside pass by, the only part about going to Denerim that doesn't leave a sour taste in her mouth.
She falls ill just past South Reach, like the babe inside of her is just as upset about all of this. At first she elects to ignore it, tells herself that it is merely her condition that has her so exhausted and nothing more. But just as they reach Dragon's Peak she knows as they stop for the night she cannot lift herself from the carriage.
Loghain had noticed her lack of energy earlier in the day and the look he wears before the carriage halts gives Celia an aching feeling in her chest. He does not wait for the door to open, he calls for a doctor and immediately lifts her up in his arms. The inn they're staying at must have received word in advance, as there's a turned down bed for her and a warm bath still steaming in the corner.
A doctor arrives quickly, and a midwife not far behind; the doctor tries to coax Loghain from the room, but her husband barks at the man, that he will not leave her side until he knows exactly what state she's in. The doctor is reluctant but the midwife is not so hesitant, during the men's argument she'd already hiked up Celia's skirts and check for dilation.
"Nothing just yet, thank the Maker…" She shakes her head, Loghain and the doctor turn their attention to the midwife. "With the stress you must've been under during travel and by the looks of how low you're carrying; I wouldn't find myself surprised if that babe of yours comes out in a few days."
"She's not due for another two months." Loghain says sternly.
"I'm aware, your lordship, perhaps you should have taken that into consideration before dragging your poor wife halfway across the continent." The midwife replaces Celia's skirts before walking up to her bedside and taking her hand. "You'll be in my prayers tonight, Maker willing that babe stays put, it's not ready for this world."
Celia mutters a weak thank you, that must sound more like a whimper with the way the midwife nods. Her husband and the doctor put aside their differences, Loghain remaining in her room as the doctor conducts his examination. He eventually concludes that she's not contracted the blight, and given enough rest she should manage to survive. Though he leaves strict instructions and a particular array of poultices before the Mac Tir's are left alone for the night.
"You should have a bath." Loghain says once the door is latched, removing his informal doublet as he does.
"I want nothing more than to sleep." Celia responds, voice lilted and breathless. He's already tested the water of the bath and rolled up his sleeves by the time she's choked out a response.
"You should be clean from the road, then you'll have your medicine-" He lifts her body off the bed and begins to undress her, "Then you can rest... I swear to the Maker Celia…"
She says nothing, allows him to strip her and lay her in the bath, whatever else Loghain is; be it brash and emotionally incompetent, he is still compassionate. He's still a farm boy who has no idea what he's doing, and he's trying his damnedest to do right in the world. In her fevered state, she can manage at the least that kind thought for her husband; after all, how many noblemen would wash their bride's hair when she's ill? How many men in Thedas would treat their wives this way?
He wraps her hair up in towels, before doing the same to her body, and she feels a strange patter inside of her when she realizes how intimate this gesture is. Her body must register this as the baby moving within her, before her muddied brain can, as she reaches out and guides his hand to the movement. They wait for a breath before the child moves just under his touch.
"At least I can leave you a child." She says weakly.
"You're not going anywhere, Celia, don't you even entertain the idea." He responds with finality.
"Okay." She would nod if she had the strength, instead she touches her forehead to his jaw, feeling him tremble as she does so.
"Maker's Breath you're burning up." He mutters, whether it was to fill the silence or just to inform her, Celia's too exhausted to decipher. She's fairly certain she falls asleep in his arms, because the next thing she becomes aware of is lying in bed and Loghain coaxing medicine down her throat.
Her consciousness is fleeting at best the next few days, fading in and out at random hours. She's able to piece together small things in her bouts of alertness; she's not gone into labor, the treatment is working to some extent, and she is not dead being the most prominent of realizations.
About a week after their arrival she's able to sit up and have a short conversation with her husband, which is something to the effect of;
"Is the baby alright?"
"Yes, dear, please eat this."
"How long has it been?"
"Five days, eat."
From what she can gather, Loghain has not left her side except for when the doctor must be attending her. When she's cognizant long enough to process this fact she smiles at him, wraps up their fingers like stitching and tells him she loves him. He kisses her forehead and smiles like someone who's seeing the ocean for the first time since childhood.
Then of course she wakes one morning feeling a rush of pain deep in her back and has to suppress her panic. Loghain, seeing her waken begins to prepare her medications, as calmly as she can, Celia asks for him to, "Send for the midwife."
She closes her eyes to avoid his panic, but even then she hears him frantically drop what he was holding and rush from the room. Laying there alone for only a few moments she holds her breath, the pain slowly builds to a burning sensation that spreads all the way through to her hips. Trying to convince herself that there's no possible way this can be labor pains, she moves her hands from gripping the bed to cupping the underside of her stomach; As if she can just hold the babe inside of her.
"Celia, breathe dear." Loghain appears beside her once again, shaking hand on the side of her face. Letting out all of the air inside of her as a groan instead of a sigh, she turns her head into her husband's hand.
"I'm sorry." She whispers, resisting the temptation to fall into hysterics.
"Don't be sorry, just try to breathe, alright? The midwife will be here soon." He kisses her head and keeps his face close to hers, as if to memorize her features should the worst come to pass.
The midwife is quick to arrive, immediately asking after Celia's symptoms and checking for dilation. The pain has not faded since she has been awake, which seems to concern both her husband and the midwife.
"The good news is I don't believe you're in labor and there's no blood." The midwife says with a sigh, walking to Celia's bedside. "I think that the child is settling too far back, however. I would attribute that to being on strict bedrest for so long."
"She's not well enough to be up and about." Loghain says definitively.
"I understand that, but the longer we let the child stay in that position the more dangerous delivery becomes for the both of them." A stiff silence over takes the three of them, Celia still in pain as the quiet grows heavier and heavier.
"Well?" Celia eventually asks, "I'm not going to sit here and decidedly do nothing." The midwife takes this as her chance to bypass Loghain and help his wife. She has the Teyrna take up several different positions, trying to ease the pain while her husband watches on, disapproval in his gaze.
By the end of it all, she exhausted, but her body is able to relax. She thinks she hears a quick dispute between Loghain and the midwife; by that point however, she's halfway to the fade and couldn't be bothered by anything less than an archdemon.
When she does wake again, Loghain still wears a scowl, but he says nothing of the earlier incident. In the next few days he tries to be gentle with her, while still following the midwife's instructions. A part of Celia is surprised he's doing even so much as this, and when Loghain notices this he says to her.
"I'm not about to put you at risk because of my feelings, love. Never doubt that everything I do is with my very best intentions." He never calls her love, either she looks just that pathetic or he's trying to convey a genuine concern and has no other way of doing so.
They leave soon after that, Celia bundled up in her warmest clothes and Loghain asking after her every twenty minutes. Despite this delay, they manage to arrive in Denerim some weeks before the Landsmeet, much to her surprise.
Once they arrive at the estate, Loghain is adamant that Celia get her rest; asks for all invitations to be sent to his office so that he might decline them for her, and practically locks her in their chambers. When she asks if she should not take up confinement in her own quarters, Loghain scoffs at the idea; calls confinement a barbaric practice that no wife of his will be a part of.
Tells her simply that as soon as she's regained more of her strength he'll find no issue in her going where she please. This is a temporary state, and she believes him despite her better judgement.
She is grateful that despite falling ill, the baby seems to be growing just fine. There has been little interruption in its development, at least it seems so; the child moves frequently and the size of her stomach is undeniably heavy with child now. She contemplates these things in the early morning, when the baby moves too much for her to sleep; so Celia sits and watches the sun rise drawing patterns over the child as light melts into the window before her.
"You're singing." Loghain's sleep soaked voice breaks Celia's reverie.
"Hm?" She asks, trying not to seem as startled as she feels.
"You were singing, to the baby, I've never heard you do that before." He's behind her now, impossible warm skin brushing against her own hands.
"That's because I'm positively awful at it." Celia chuckles as he kisses her temple, "Sorry to have woken you."
"It's quite alright, I'm glad for some moments of peace." He says rounding the sofa and sitting beside her. Celia can't help but agree, smiling at her husband as he kisses her again, his lips warm and dry against hers. In those few minutes, she thinks she knows what love looks like, feels like, it is tangible. Real even, in a way she hadn't ever been sure was possible.
Moments such as these are not meant to last, and as quickly as it had come it's over. Loghain stands to get dressed, but not before confirming that she is in fact feeling better. She indulges herself by watching him change, takes pleasure in the sight of her husband and feels an unfamiliar surge of protectiveness wash over her. Blaming the influx of emotion on her condition she turns from him and looks back out the window. Snow hasn't fallen yet, back in Gwaren the ice and chill would be thick and rampant, perhaps Loghain was not totally incorrect.
As before, Loghain spends much of his time out of the estate, though he does return at dine with her twice a day. While she doesn't mind the quiet, as she gets further into the pregnancy she finds it more and more difficult to do anything at all. From what she's come to understand, this normal, but that doesn't stop her from finding it infuriating when she can't stand up without trying three times.
Even still, she wakes up nearly a week and a half after their arrival to Denerim, only to realize they've absolutely nothing prepared for the child and the due date looms ever closer. And so she begins to speak with Master Gavrial about preparations to her quarters, orders a crib and all manner of things for the child. After she's given every detail about preparations for her quarters the two walk down to the main hall, Celia asking an endless string of questions.
Just as she asking after names of reputable midwives, Loghain arrives and looks at her strangely.
"Welcome home darling." Celia smiles at her husband.
"What are you doing?" Loghain asks eyeing her.
"I was just discussing options for a midwife-"
"Gavrial take my wife back to bed." He says without even a hint of acknowledgement towards his wife.
"I don't need to go back to bed, I feel just fine."
"You look tired, go back to bed, we'll take lunch in our quarters."
"I'm fine."
"Don't make me carry you there Celia, I swear I'll do it." He barks at her, which in turn has Gavrial inching away from the quarreling couple.
"You will not lay a hand on me." She snaps back, equally as aggressive.
"I'm not about to argue this with you." Loghain dismisses her, stepping just a fraction closer. His presence daunting and undeniably intimidating, for a long moment Celia tries to decipher a way to fight back. The two of them stare intently at one another, the kind of eye contact one can physically feel, and neither of them are willing to budge.
However, as quickly as their quarrel started, it ends abruptly, with Celia realizing that he has every argument to throw at her; and she is not willing to stand there all day arguing. Without a word she turns around and walks back towards her and Loghain's chambers.
Some serving girls are already setting up a small lunch for Celia and her husband, and she comes to the realization as soon as the door is shut behind her, she's already given up on being angry with Loghain. She may very well have married the most frustrating man in Thedas, and in her current state, it seems more a survival tactic than anything else that she's let go of her anger.
Loghain enters the room not long after she did, he's holding a few missives in his hand but he is staring at her intently. "You're pale-"
"Stop, right there, I am not about to spend all day arguing. Shut your mouth and come eat." Her tone is sharp but not aggressive as she takes a seat before their meal. He sighs at her a heavy plaintive kind of sigh, as if she didn't understand before how put out he was. She speaks absently about the preparations she'd been in the middle of making, he nods and offers little in regards to the conversation until she turns to ask. "How was your morning?"
He looks at her with a gaze she'd threaten to call dejected as he responds, telling her all sorts of things she couldn't even pretend to understand. The way he goes on makes her wonder if the world isn't falling apart, or perhaps, that it in fact always is. Soon their conversation lasts well past their typical lunch hour, Celia can't say she minds much.
She's not particularly certain she's eased her husband's mind at all but by the time he's finished sulking, the sun is setting and she can only smile.
"What's got you so happy? You like the idea of trade war?" Loghain asks with a sigh.
"Not at all." She says with a soft laugh, "But I do love seeing you passionate, sometimes I forget that passion can be put towards good as well."
"You are still angry about earlier."
"No, it's just that even after almost three years of marriage I find myself still trying to figure you out."
He chuckles, "Well that certainly isn't going to happen."
She scoffs and rolls her eyes, "You ass."
"I'd be a terrible tactician if you could have me figured out, dear." He walks over to her and kisses her, she feels his smile grow against her own, until they pull away.
"Promise me something, Loghain." She says with a pleasant smile, "Well two things."
"Anything."
"The first is that you'll learn to apologize to me every once and a while, even if you don't think you're at fault. Entertain me sometimes would you?"
He rolls his eyes but keeps the smile present on his face, "Would you do me the same curtesy then?"
"I daresay I already do. But if it will please you, husband, then yes I will."
"Then I will promise the very same." He takes both of her hands in his and kisses them. "Now your second?"
"Help me stand up and don't laugh at me as you do." He bites his lip the moment she's asked her question, but complies with a grace one would not suspect he were capable of.
Just days before the Landsmeet, Loghain informs his bride that they'll be attending an informal banquet, Maric is holding. Supposedly Loghain tried to get out of the event, and Celia isn't even a touch surprised at the notion; but was unable to convince Maric that their absence would go over well.
Part of Celia is glad to leave the estate, and the other part is horrified at the thought; after all she's very near her due date and pregnancy is not often talked about by the nobility. Let alone being seen in such a condition, to her understanding the notion is absolutely unsightly in higher circles.
Having never been the type to shy away from attention, she scolds herself as the thought occurs to her. Back in Gwaren, women are unashamed of their state walking around the market and working up until delivery, why should she find herself embarrassed? Perhaps it is the idea that she'll be thought of as barbaric, seen as the low status she is.
Despite all of these thoughts she is dressed and ready for the evening, waiting for her husband to join her in their carriage. He wears his ever-permanent scowl as he climbs in after her, not even a moment after the horses begin to move he's rattling off, about nothing in particular. He does mention something about leaving early and to make sure she speaks up the moment she's ready to do so.
She nods and responds, "Of course, darling." Any time it seems he's looking for a response, as she is far too busy with worry about this to pay him any mind.
The castle is just as beautiful and grand as she remembers, upon walking in Celia feels her heart clench. But she keeps her grip on Loghain's arm firm as they walk through the echoing halls to the formal parlor, the voices of others already enjoying festivities growing ever closer.
It may be an informal banquet, but no expense was spared, and just about every noble Celia remembers is in attendance. Loghain takes his arm from her and wraps it around her back, leading her through the crowd. She can already feel the intent stares and fevered whispering spread across the hall.
"Loghain you bastard!" Maric's ever jovial voice breaks through the awkwardness, the two men embrace laughing so loudly it could be heard in Orlais. "Congratulations, to the both of you."
Maric turns to Celia and kisses her cheeks, "You look radiant, Celia."
"Thank you, Maric." She chuckles, "Don't tell me that you didn't know that I'm with child."
"I'm afraid your husband never mentioned it."
"Don't side against me now." Loghain laughs.
"Why didn't you say anything dear?" She asks.
"I wanted to give you some peace." He assures her with a kiss to the side of her head.
A soft, "Congratulations." Comes from Queen Rowan who approached much slower than her husband. There's a sadness hanging in her eyes, and Celia has no idea why she always looks so forlorn. Until she notices, the queen's lingering gaze on her stomach and she realizes that Rowan and Maric have been married for some years longer than Loghain and herself. Perhaps the queen is barren, and suddenly Celia feels terribly for having judged her so.
"Don't tell me you dragged our poor girl all the way from Gwaren in her condition." Maric says, humor still present in his tone, yet a part of her feels as though he's scolding her husband.
"Let's not get back on that particular argument." Celia says moving back towards her husband, he gives her a grateful look before hugging her back into his side.
"Fine, fine." Maric chuckles throwing up his hands before taking his own wife into his arms.
"Celia, Loghain, congratulations." Bryce Cousland breaks through the crowd to approach them.
"Thank you… Where's Eleanor?" She asks softly.
"Oh, I forget you didn't attend the last Landsmeet, she's stopped coming to Denerim for now. Fergus has gotten a bit older but she's not ready to leave him alone just yet."
"Ah, I see… I should write her more than I do." Truth be told Celia and Eleanor have sent a rare few letters between each other. Despite the fact that Celia sees the Lady Cousland as her only friend among the nobility.
"I'm sure she'll be thrilled to hear you're expecting." Bryce commends her, before the three men and Rowan begin to discuss something political. Celia wishes she could keep up but everything they're saying is far over her head, besides she's become preoccupied with watching the crowd. People's gazes fleeting the moment they notice that she returns their staring. She swears she catches a glimpse of familiar features, but she cannot name the person her mind is trying to bring forth.
She hates herself for it, but after only standing for some twenty minutes she finds herself growing tired. Trying to suppress her frustration she turns to her husband and says softly, "I think I'll go find a seat darling."
"Is everything alright? Are you well?" He asks interrupting his conversation.
"Yes, I'm fine, I just want to sit." She says, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"Why don't you take her to the sitting room, there should be less people." Maric says, and Celia tries not to cringe at the concern in his voice.
Loghain leads her to the adjoining room, there are far fewer people in the small sitting room, the air almost feels less heavy here.
"Do you need anything?" He asks, helping her sit on one of the couches.
"No, I'm alright, really." She says, trying to keep her breath.
"Are you certain? You don't-"
"I am fine, Loghain. Go back to your socializing, I'll be here."
He looks at her wearily, says, "I'll be back to check on you in a bit." Before he walks back into the crowd of people, Celia closes her eyes for just a second, to take a breath when she hears a familiar voice she never thought she'd hear again.
"Is that my Celia?"
"I thought I smelled a rat." She chuckles turning to the man taking a seat beside her.
"I'm a crow, not a rat, pregnancy really must have gotten to you my dear." He laughs, "I can hardly believe my eyes, not only are you here, but married and with child."
"You don't have to tell me, Damian, I can hardly believe it all myself."
"I suppose I don't have to ask how you're faring then?"
"I suppose not." She smirks at him. "Are you here to kill someone?"
"Maker no." He chuckles, "Just the typical espionage, who do you take me for?" She shakes her head, still in slight disbelief that Damian is here at all. Then he speaks up, "You're the Teyrn's wife… is he as they say?"
"Probably." She chuckles, "But if you're implying that he's a legend then I am afraid I must tell you he is only a man, nothing more."
"That's not what I meant… You did choose him yes?"
"Of course, I did."
"That's good…" He puts a hand on her knee and has a serious look in his eyes, "Celia, I'd like to extend my services to you."
"Why?"
"I have heard… and seen some things around the palace. You are a dear friend of mine, and I would hate to discover these things to be true. But for you-"
"Thank you, Damian, as much as I appreciate the offer… If these rumors are true, it may be better for my sanity that I don't know."
"I understand… but please consider my offer." She nods, as he continues to speak, "How are things in Gwaren?"
"All is well, somehow."
"Celia." Loghain approaches the two of them, Maric not far behind. Her husband eyes Damian with a gaze of pure venom, Damian seems humored by it as he stands to greet the Teyrn.
"Darling, this is Damian, an old friend of mine. Damian, my husband."
"A pleasure." Damian holds out his hand to the Teyrn, who in turn slowly raises a hand to meet his. "You take care of my dear Celia, you hear me?"
"I am not your anything." She chuckles as Damian turns back to her, that charming smile plain as day.
"That's what you think old girl."
"Damian." Celia laughs as he leans down to kiss her cheek before departing.
"Who was that Celia?" Loghain asks not an air of humor in his tone.
"Just an old friend dear." She says still smiling with the hope that Loghain will drop the subject. Obviously, it was a futile hope.
"Who is he? And what is he doing here?"
"Come and sit." She sighs, as Maric walks up behind her husband. Loghain seems reluctant to do as she's bid, but eventually complies. "Do you remember what I told you? About the man who took me?"
"He's-"
"The man who killed him." She says before Loghain's mind can wander to dangerous places. "I owe Damian my life."
"So, what is he doing here?" Maric asks, to which Celia fails to decide if she should reveal him. Damian is a crow, his talent lies in his ability to melt into any crowd and look as though he belongs there. To her eyes he is long gone, and perhaps that is for the best.
"He's a crow." She admits once the silence has grown too long for her to not give an answer.
"A crow? Here?" Maric suddenly looks worried.
"Oh he's not here to kill anyone, he doesn't do that kind of work." She says quickly.
"But you just said-"
"He made an exception for me." Celia explains. "You see he was only supposed to watch the situation in Gwaren and report back to the crows about the status of the war. Apparently, his excuse back to Antiva was something to the effect of, 'he just needed killing' and that was that."
The two men pass a skeptical gaze between each other before Loghain takes his wife's hand. "I think I should take you home for the night, dear."
"I'm fine, Loghain, we've hardly been here an hour you should enjoy yourself." She says an annoyed edge in her tone.
"I agree with your husband Celia, it will be a long day tomorrow and you don't want to be exerting yourself so much." Maric folds his arms as if he's also made up his mind about the situation.
"You told him about the incident during our travels, didn't you?" Celia shakes her head as she looks towards her husband.
"I did, and Bryce agrees with us as well, that you should be home resting."
"Rest was what got me into trouble later on, if you recall." She reminds him gently.
"Yes, but tomorrow will be different and you are as much aware of that as I am." He argues, clearly not willing to budge on this particular topic, though there remains a soft hush to his tone.
She sighs, "Help me up." As if she has to ask, as he's already guiding her to her feet. "I am sorry to be leaving so soon, Maric."
"Perish the thought, you've nothing to apologize for, from my understanding creating a new life is quite the challenge."
Celia nods as Loghain leads her out of the palace, dark has just barely cloaked Denerim. She isn't sure if she should be upset at their leaving so soon, or relieved that she won't have to face anyone else for the night. Her husband holds her hand the entire ride home, but says nothing at all.
"Are you alright, Loghain?" She asks once they're alone in their chambers.
"I'm just fine, Celia, you're the one I'm concerned for."
"For no reason." She reminds him, gently taking his face in her hands and kissing him sweetly. He's the one to pull back, placing both of his hands on her enlarged middle and sighs as he places his head in the crook of her neck.
"I worry for you and the baby so much."
"You don't have to, we made it to Denerim, the rest will follow suit." She doesn't add that whatever happens next, it is out of his hands. Doesn't divulge her fears of labor with him, and keeps her new fears within as well. As much as she hates the notion, Damian's warning has her curious in all the wrong ways.
The Landsmeet passes without incident, Celia is up early and the day is far too long. She is grateful that her husband had convinced her to leave the previous night's festivities early. When the whole ordeal is over and the couple gets back in their carriage she falls asleep during the ten minutes it takes for them to reach the estate.
Loghain wakes her tenderly before coaxing her out of the carriage and all but carrying her to their chambers. She smiles through her tiredness at him and tells him she loves him.
"Are you feeling alright dear?"
"I am, just tired."
"You should be in bed." He tells her.
"Will you spend the day with me tomorrow?" She asks, "The baby is coming any day now, and who knows when we'll have time together again. Besides, I miss you terribly when you're gone."
He smiles at her, a gentle loving kind of gaze, "Of course." Before kissing her and once again insisting she get to bed. She complies watching her husband move about the room until she can't keep her eyes open any longer.
When she wakes in the morning, her husband is nowhere to be found, she asks Master Gavrial after him, but is met with a weak, "He left without much ceremony a few hours ago." Celia tries to convince herself that this is of no consequence, that he's merely gone to speak with Maric because of some urgent issue. Though, she finds it hard to believe that anything would come up so desperately just after the Landsmeet. And if it was urgent, she's shocked he didn't at least leave her a message, she feels silly for being so upset by her husband's absence.
It's not until late in the afternoon and she's still heard no word that she starts to worry. Deciding to take matters into her own hands, she asks for a carriage to be prepared and readies herself to head out. She goes to the palace hoping that at the very least Ferelden is not on the brink of war.
When she arrives, the foreman is shocked by her sudden appearance, stumbling over his words as he tries to ask if she wishes to be presented to the King. Denying him she then asks where Maric is, assuming she'll find her husband with him. After being informed of the location of the king's study she takes herself there.
After a quick knock she hears Maric call her in, and his surprise is plain as day when she walks in. "Celia, what are you doing here? Is everything alright?"
"I am merely looking for my husband, he's been out of the estate all day without a word of where he is."
"Oh." He chuckles, standing up from his work. "Well, as you can see, Loghain isn't here."
For some reason she doesn't believe him, "I can see that."
"Would you sit down? It's been particularly cold as of late and I'd hate for you to catch a chill because of Loghain's poor communication skills."
"It's refreshing actually to be out and about, but thank you for the offer." She bites her lip before asking, "You've no idea where he could be?"
"He might've gone to see Bryce, as you heard yesterday there's been some trade disputes between the Banns." That's a lie, plain as day, Bryce had told her just the day previous that he was leaving for Highever as soon as the Landsmeet concluded.
"Oh, perhaps I should go to his estate then."
"Or simply send word to the estate, you really shouldn't be traveling about like this in your condition."
"I will consider it, thank you for your time." She says backing out of the room into the hall. With the door closed behind her she takes in a deep breath; out of the corner of her eye she spots a quick flash of movement. Startled she turns toward it, only to see a fading figure, but as he turns the corner, she recognizes his features.
Following a safe distance behind she finds herself weaving through the intricate web of halls, up stairs she'd never know of were it not for the bird she follows. Then she gets a sinking feeling in her gut as she realizes where she is, from the look of the lavish furniture and scattered paintings the answer is clear.
There's a door slightly ajar at the end of the corridor and the world falls to silence around her. The fluttering of her heart turns painful as she inches ever closer, trying to keep her footsteps light. Breathing as deeply as she can, she peers into the door, and what she sees makes her feel numb.
Her husband naked from the waist up kissing the queen aggressively, holding her with a reverence, Celia feels out in the hall. Rowan's clothing practically dissolving off of her body, as the beautiful, dark, sad queen lets out a laugh. The kind that sounds anything but hallow, and makes Celia feel physically ill.
"You've no idea how much I miss you."
"I think I do know." He returns the laughter, kissing her again.
"Show me."
Celia can't keep watching her husband lavish and devour another woman. So she steps back and feels the strong chest of her dear friend. Damian reaches forward and closes the door without a sound.
"I-… I'm such an idiot."
"No my dear, that falls to your husband, though I use the term lightly." He says, arms wrapping around her shoulders. Something inside of her says she should cry, weep before this loss, and the other part begs to ask what she was expecting. Was she truly so blind as to believe Loghain could only love her? When he had known the love of the most powerful woman in Ferelden?
She cannot bring herself to cry, though a hard knot remains tied up in her throat as she turns into Damian's arms. She breaths him in and misses the smell of the sea on him, when they had met he'd been posing as a dock hand. Sea water and hard work, the two things she'd come to associate with him, and now he holds an empty vessel of a woman trying to find the sense in the world.
"When do I kill him?" He asks, voice soft above her head.
"You don't…" She says and feels frightened by the amount of defeat in her voice, "That's not what you're here to do, and I must… I must think."
"When you're done with that nonsense, I will be at your call." He kisses the top of her head before disappearing down the hall he'd brought her to.
Still unable to process what she's seen, her hands fall to the babe within her, does any child deserve a father like this? Or a mother so weak afterwards she's no clue what to do?
Celia looks around the corridor until her eyes fall on none other than King Maric himself, eyes sad and sorry. She walks toward him and in a hushed tone says, "I think we should speak in private."
He opens his mouth to speak, but decides against doing so, instead leading her down to an informal sitting room. Where they sit in silence for far too long, Celia still unable to bring herself to tears, though she feels she should; and Maric covering his mouth trying to decipher how to go about this conversation.
"You knew about this." She says, voice plain and monotone, yet somehow indignant.
"Yes." He says softly.
"And you allow it."
"I do. Though I wish I did not have to do so."
"You don't have to do so." Celia says, "You could put a stop to it."
"I-… I could not do that to them. It's all my fault that any of this has happened."
"So, tell me why I'm to pay the price for your transgression."
"You were never supposed to find out." Maric tells her, "Which I know does not excuse this."
"No. It doesn't, I don't care how you word it, Maric, it's adultery all the same."
He seems to cringe at the word, but he finally is able to meet her eyes. "If I hadn't gone and made an idiot of myself… perhaps none of this would have happened."
"I do not pretend to know your past Maric, but I'm afraid that does not justify the present." Her voice is whittling down, the edge to her tone growing steadily.
"I was the first to commit adultery Celia… So, Rowan took to Loghain's side and I cannot blame her for doing so, he is a greater man than I."
"Bullshit. You were unwed at the time."
"But we were promised to one another, if that is not cruel I know not what is."
"So what then? Am I just a casualty in this game the three of you are playing?" She feels all of her emotions fighting to come out, rage, sorrow, jealousy, insecurity, and anguish. All of these emotions cancel the other out and she is able to retain her composure.
"He never wanted to hurt you, he loves you more than this life."
"I can't exactly believe you." She says, hands gripping the fabric of her dress.
"I know, he made a mistake-"
"How long has he been making the same 'mistake' Maric?" Her gaze is livid and she sees the proud king retreat into himself.
"I am so sorry." He whispers, so small she almost doesn't catch it.
"I've been a scapegoat for three years now, perfect." She rolls her eyes, disbelief and also the lack there of. "And you allow this to happen, in your own home. Your best friend and your wife."
"I keep thinking that since it's my fault that they have to be separated… I should allow them some semblance of it. This has nothing to do with you, Celia, none of it these sins are not your fault."
Celia has never hated words more, never felt so unimportant. "You expect me to find comfort in that? That my husband cannot find his happiness in our marriage? That he must turn to other means? Does he also bed common whores? That would hurt less than this."
"I cannot express how sorry I am."
"And yet you remain idle, you do nothing."
"I can't."
"You absolutely can."
"Who would I be then? I would be no worse than the hypocrisy of the Orlesians."
"At least they admitted it. You are content to act as a coward, hiding away from your sins and allowing them to continue instead of seeking repentance. And I don't pretend to know the answer, but damnit Maric there has to be another way." Her composure is slipping away, and she can hardly bear the weight of all that has transpired. The sky is falling and Celia isn't certain she can hold up the heavens alone.
"If I knew one I would have taken it, this hurts me too. But I am not perfect."
"None of us are, but at the very least some of us fucking try." He closes his eyes at the curse shying away from the Teyrna as if he's no defense against her. Not even a shred of clothing to hide behind, and she hates him. She cannot spend another second in his presence.
"I have to go." She says tentatively standing, reluctantly taking Maric's hand for help when the task becomes too arduous.
"I will never be worthy of your forgiveness. I pray that you can understand at least a third of how sorry I am, Celia." He says, voice drenched in sorrow.
"It is not your apology I need nor seek, your majesty. I believe that repentance lies not in you." She takes her hand from his and leaves the palace. She doesn't remember arriving back at the estate, but she is completely aware as she heads to her own chambers. The scarcely used space, dark and lifeless, feels almost welcoming.
It is here she falls to pieces, a hurricane of emotion wiping her out entirely, she can hardly breathe. She is shaking and hot, every inch a mad woman, but she deserves this. After all she has given up, she deserves this moment of devastation; the babe within her writhes and kicks as if it too has been devastated.
Even on the day she was certain death had come for her she did not feel so much anguish, nor did she feel so many emotions all at once. The most prevalent of all? How did you ever believe that he loved you? How could you be as stupid as that? To believe that love is pure as fairy stories? That your marriage would be free of sin?
Darkness falls on the city and thus, Celia takes herself to bed, there is not enough water left inside of her body to continue pouring out tears. She lays in bed and runs her hands along the curve of her stomach. The baby still moves, lighter kicks against the warmth of its mother's palm, the only comfort she's felt all day.
The door opens, Celia feigns sleep as Loghain enters her room like a phantom. She feels a kiss on her forehead, one hand on her neck the other stroking her hair back.
"I am so sorry, my love." His voice is thick and heavy as he speaks, each word languid and desperate. "I never wanted to hurt you… I will spend the rest of my life trying to atone for this, Celia. You deserve the world, and I-… I'm so sorry." She feels tears fall on her cheeks, but does not move nor alert him to her current state. She will not face him, cannot face him, for she does not know what will happen should she do so.
He puts his hand over their child the longer he speaks, "I'll do better little one, for you and your mother I will do better."
His presence remains for so long that she falls asleep before he is gone from her side. Though she does wake up alone, and she can't help but see the irony of it all, especially as she feels a swell of pain pass through her body. At first she thinks nothing of it, knows that later in pregnancy it is common to feel surges that are not labor.
It's not until she's up and about for the day, that she realizes the pain continues to come back, her body full of something akin to fire. And she isn't sure what to do, as she stands in the library paralyzed with fear holding onto the shelf to keep the panic back. Now is not the time to bring a baby into the world, she can't imagine the idea when she is still reeling from the previous day.
For better or worse she is not alone for long, Loghain's voice pierces the veil of terror.
"Celia, dear?" She turns towards him, narrowing her eyes as she notices Rowan and Maric just behind him. After it becomes apparent that she'll not be saying anything he speaks again, "Rowan wishes to speak with you."
"Not yourself?" Celia asks, her voice low.
"She insisted she speak with you." He looks at her sadly, eyes unable to meet hers. She does not agree to speak to the queen but before she knows what's happening the two women are left alone with one another.
"Hello, Celia." Rowan's voice is as dark as ever, and the anguish behind her eyes is undeniable. Part of her wants to snap at the queen not to use her name, to rip her apart bit by bit. But she doesn't do anything of the sort, she stays quiet and observing, the pain in her stomach slowly ebbing away enough that she can finally stand upright instead of hunched.
"Rowan."
The queen closes her eyes and shakes her head, "I'll just come out and say it Celia, I know I do not deserve your forgiveness but I am wholeheartedly sorry."
"I do not want to hear apologies from you." Celia responds.
"I know, and I do not deserve to be heard."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because a part of me hopes that we can come to see each other a bit clearer."
Celia has to fight from rolling her eyes, "I doubt that's possible."
"Is it so much of a sin that we love the same man?"
"Stop it." Celia snaps, "I will not listen to you profess your love for my husband."
"It does not matter if I profess to you or the Maker, it remains true." Rowan steps closer and Celia feels her body tense at the movement.
"Then just admit you're here for no other reason than to feel self-righteous, as that is the only way I can imagine you would think it appropriate to say such things."
"There is no point in my pandering to your feelings, if we are to see eye to eye the truth must be laid bare." Rowan says, closing her eyes as if she does not believe the words her mouth is speaking.
"Have I not made it clear that I do not care to see eye to eye with you?" Celia asks.
"Please, hear me."
"I have no reason to, I know my place now and it was never to be a loving wife. Only to be loyal and silent."
"But that isn't true." Rowan huffs, "Loghain does love you-"
"This is not how you treat the ones you love, though I can see how you are mistaken." Celia watches embarrassment flush Rowans face, and she does not stop there. "But among the people you serve, they value one another's integrity, and marriage is considered a sacred institution."
"I was wrong Celia, I know that."
"And yet you continue to want me to see your side of this."
"Because I wish to be understood."
"I do understand." Celia sighs, though the debate remains heated. "I understand that you love my husband and that he you."
"He-"
Celia raises her voice, "I understand that I am nothing more than a means to an end and I know that this thing I've become a part of is all too content to leave me as a casualty."
"It kills him how much he loves you!" Rowan bites back, eyes seething as she stares down the Teyrna. "He doesn't know how to deal with that kind of love."
"Then why doesn't he say this? To my face? Why must you be his messenger?"
"Because he's an idiot." Rowan shakes her head exasperated, "He isn't a man of words, he's a man of action."
"And my how his actions have spoken. I thought I knew love in him but I was sorely mistaken."
"Have you learned nothing? It is hardly enough to know love, what has knowing done for anyone? We are only meant to play the part of the fool, the idiot who thinks they're somehow special. There is no such thing as true love. The only truth I have ever found, is that the pain of knowing love is everlasting." Rowan's eyes land on Celia's stomach, all anger fades and she is left with regret. "I love two men equally, in the very same way. Do not doubt that I love my husband more than life itself, but I hold your Loghain just as dearly. I am sorry Celia, love has made us all weak. Love has taken and taken, and when that was not enough it took even more."
Celia tries to bite back her tears, blames the pregnancy, anything other than heart break. "I pity and envy you, to know love as you do-"
"He loves you, I promise, Loghain would have never lied about that. I… in your childhood, you must have known a love that you still hold dear." The queen continues to close in on her, the distance between them thinning rapidly.
Celia shakes her head, "No, I don't."
Rowan now cries at her, "Please hear my apology sincerely. My intentions were not pure, nor just but you deserve to hear them! I won't take this grief and guilt to my grave when I know I can do something about it."
Celia takes in a deep breath, rage simmering just beneath the surface. "Do not speak to me of death… You've a lifetime of virtues left in the past, perhaps sins must catch up eventually."
"I-… What?"
"I'm no war hero, Rowan… I am just a cabinet maker's daughter, I didn't fight with anything but my ill-timed rebellion and poorly placed words. Yet you fought and won a war, saved people like me and became their queen. I yelled at the wrong man and cowered away from war afterwards. What I'm saying is, one of us deserves him, and it isn't me."
"No, you're wrong." Rowan snaps, for a groveling woman she has a terrible bite. Celia closes her eyes and grasps at her ears, the noise too loud, the world too heavy. "You committed no sin, you are the victim!"
"Don't tell me what I am!" Celia snaps back, tears like a rain storm pounding against pavement. "I… I am a woman trying desperately to hate her husband and his adulterous bitch, but I can't! And maybe it's because I feel as though the burden of this is mine to bear, or perhaps because I am the only one in this who has done no great deed. For one reason or another, the Maker planned this and I can't even begin to imagine why."
The two women stare one another down for just a moment before Celia begins to walk past the queen.
"Celia, please." Rowan says desperately.
"For what it's worth, I feel incredibly sorry for you." Celia says softly, "That with all that you have, you hold very little of it dear, and you still wish for more. That you have so much and cannot find happiness in any of it. I will pray tonight and every night, that you find your truth someday, Rowan, and I hope above all else that when you find it… Perhaps you'll finally be at peace."
As the words come out of her mouth, a contraction blooms in her back spreading all throughout her body. There's hardly any preamble to it either, immediate and demanding, more so than the previous pains she'd been experiencing. She grasps at the bookshelf beside her, trying to hold herself steady even as the pulsating only becomes greater.
"Celia? Are you alright?" Rowan asks, moving to close the distance between them. She hates the feeling of the queen's hands on her.
"I am." Celia says as evenly as possible.
"Andraste's ass, Celia, you're in labor!?" Rowan's voice is frightened at the thought. The Teyrna would respond if she knew how, in her state she doesn't feel as though lying will do much of anything.
Given that the child is coming whether or not she says so, all she responds with is, "I am, yes."
"I-… Hold on, alright?" Rowan's hands leave Celia, and as soon as the queen's presence is gone from her, she allows herself to relax. Focusing her energy on the tightness and the pain, breath falling out of her body in a heavy tumble.
"Darling? Are you alright?" Loghain's voice is too loud in her ears, he is just as breathless as she feels, he tries to take her hands in his.
"Don't touch me." She says.
"We should get you to your chambers." He says not heeding her words, still trying to bring her into his arms. She puts up enough resistance to dissuade him from pressing her, until the contraction passes and she is able to regain her bearings.
When she finally meets his gaze there are so many dark emotions within him she cannot possibly begin to describe it. He is scared, worried, and beyond desperate, she feels a wave of guilt roll around inside of her at the sight. Maker's breath he's a wreck, and he isn't even the one in labor.
Loghain does not ask her if she's alright, or ready to move; instead he leads her from the library, Rowen and Maric not far behind. Embarrassment floods Celia's sense but only for a moment, this is not her fault, their presence will not sway her.
Desperation fills her in every conceivable way, she wants to be in control, wants to shove her husband away, wants to run all the way back home. Never in her life has she ever felt so trapped, so dictated by everything around her; all she wants to do is scream. Yet part of her wants to hold it all inside, so that no soul can see the ugly emotions she cannot escape.
She's expecting Loghain to leave her alone, men are not banned from the birthing chambers, yet from her understanding, men especially nobles steer clear of such things. But of course, her husband remains by her side, were she not furious with him she might be grateful for the gesture. In another time this would be his worry, him not wanting her to feel alone.
His mistress remains as well, the queen bustles around the room, as if she's a midwife. Although the longer she does this, Celia realizes it's merely her having no idea what to do. The queen floating about the room, fluffing pillows and smoothing sheets, nervous habits, out of a desperation Celia isn't certain she's ever experienced.
The pains return to her in an unwelcome sweep, so fast and demanding she feels herself collapsing within, like the child wants to take as much of her with it as physically possible. Every place Loghain touches prickles with pain as if his touch is burning everything in its path.
The midwife takes a long while to arrive, hours upon hours until the sun is browning in the sky. The entire time is spent in silence; Rowan moving about the room, Maric stuck by the door, looking concerned and sad. Then Loghain, who won't stop touching her, breath hot on her skin, and all she wants is distance. To be as far away from these people and this place as possible.
When the midwife does finally walk into the room, Loghain is on the older woman in an instant.
"What took you so long?" He demands hotly.
"Loghain!" Celia snaps, "Stop it." The midwife moves easily passed the man and smiles softly at the woman in labor.
"Men are defensive of their wives in such a state, lass, don't spend your energy on such trivial things. I've dealt with more than my fair share of riled up husbands." She offers Celia a hand as her heavy foreign accent somehow soothes her just a touch.
"What are you doing?" Loghain asks.
"My job, my lord." She says without even glancing at him, guiding the Teyrna to her feet.
"She's in labor, why are you-"
"Loghain, stop talking." Celia bites down on the last syllable as a contraction hits, she feels the midwife place her hand on the child. A panting breath breaks its way out of her.
"Where does the pain start?" She asks, Rowan and Loghain begin closing in around her, and she hates them so much her face grows hot.
Unable to speak at first she waits until the crest of pain has finally gone away, "Um… My back."
"Sharp pain?"
"It burns." She breathes out, unintentionally resting her head on the midwife's shoulder.
"Alright, just breathe with me." But Celia can tell by the way her stiff cold fingers rub her back that something isn't right, something is wrong.
Loghain has this expression on his face, like he's trying to hold back, but he's never been able to before. "What is it?" He asks.
The midwife glances at him, but Celia can't see it, she gets to her feet and allows the midwife to lead her around the room; once, then twice before another wave of pain sends her stumbling and shaking. She feels Loghain's looming presence, knows he's ready to lift her up in his arms and lay her out of the bed.
Before he can do this she stutters out, "This is better." Even though she's fairly certain that the pain is just as terrible as it was lying down. He pauses at her words, but she still feels his hand reach around to gather her hair.
"Stop touching me." She says harshly and without a second thought.
"You'll feel better with it back." He says.
"I said stop." Her voice devolves into a whimper, and she swears she can feel him deflate at the words.
"Can I speak with you?" He asks the midwife, Rowan's delicate hands tie the rest of Celia's hair back. Celia doesn't move until the midwife does, directing her into Rowan's arms.
"Walk with her, listen to whatever she says." Celia feels a fresh bout of furry over take her as she desperately grips Rowan's arms.
The queen is soft, with cool skin and a tender voice as she says, "It's alright, Celia." Over and over again. Celia can only groan out broken words between the harsh breaths and strangled gasps she takes to keep breathing.
"Has the pain truly come on so quickly?" Rowan asks, curiosity and worry mingled so gracelessly together Celia can only imagine she's asking for herself. The queen has been exposed to so much, but never labor, never pregnancy and the trial of creation.
"Fuck." Is the only word Celia can manage as the pain comes back as quickly as it was gone.
"It's alright-"
"If you don't stop talking I will rip your tongue out." Celia doesn't mean to say it, but as the thought was forming in her mind it came right out.
"Are you certain you want to keep standing? Perhaps you should sit down?" Rowan's voice has a perfect edge of panic that makes Celia physical cringe. Then the tremors start, her whole body shaking and trembling as if every muscle in her body is trying to force the baby out of her.
"Celia? Is everything alright?" Rowan asks, filling up the air when all they should want is silence.
Celia moves in the direction of the bed, but the queen's grip is that of iron. "I'm going to be sick." She says. Seconds before she devolves into retching the queen is gone and back with a basin, Celia has fallen to her knees, gripping the porcelain as she goes. Her body screaming the whole way, blocking out Rowan's alarm and franticness.
"I'm okay." Celia says though she doesn't know why she does so, but she can't stop saying, "I'm okay." Over and over again.
Loghain is back at her side, still speaking with the midwife, but she doesn't hear a word of what he says. She tries not to cry, tries to hold herself together enough to come back to this world. Part of her is so far away she isn't certain she is still alive or if she's halfway to the Maker's side.
"Celia, can you hear me?" Somehow she's in bed, her husband wiping her face clear of sick and sweat.
"I want to die." She says so softly that it's not even a whisper, merely a breath. Once again unable to stop her words from leaving her mind, and the look he gives her is nothing short of desperate.
"You'll be alright, Celia, the midwife says you're close and-and you're just having a difficult delivery."
"Is that all?" She asks, tears streaming down her cheeks as she does, her body refusing to stop trembling. The child within her writhes, eliciting a scream Celia did not intend to let out. Maker be damned, this hurts, everything hurts. Her heart and body, she wants to die, she begs the Maker to let this child kill her as it comes into the world.
His face is on hers and she hates him, more than she has ever hated in her whole life, if she didn't feel incapacitated she would kill him. He's trying to console her but that is impossible, and the two of them know it, but he has to do something.
The sun is long gone from the sky, and the night is so frigid there's a blue tint to everything encapsulated in it. Celia tries not to think about how long she's been in labor, how impossibly hot she is while the rest of the world is fighting off the cold. She tries to keep her eyes shut and breathe, so she doesn't have to absorb the scene she's taking part of.
How this must look to the Maker, a woman in labor with her adulterous husband, a midwife, and her husband's mistress by her side. What a laugh he must be having.
The midwife says something unclear, about pushing and part of Celia wants to do so. The other part of her is far too weak to perform such a feat. Loghain wraps his body around her shoulders and sits her up, despite the fact that every muscle in her body screams at the act.
"Baby's almost out, you're almost done." The midwife says encouragingly.
But Celia doesn't feel like she's anywhere near strong enough to deliver a baby, "Help me… Help me." She says voice desperate and terse.
"Push, you're almost done darling." Loghain says voice far away despite his immediate closeness, like even her ears are straining to work.
"Help me." She says once more before her body takes over control, her mouth continues to run off automatically as her body utilizes every last ounce of strength to push the baby out.
She collapses at the sound of the squawking baby, falling back in eminent defeat against her husband's body. Suddenly all of the attention and frantic energy transfers away from herself and onto the baby. Celia is grateful for this, especially when the cold settles across her body for the first time in hours. It's like she can breathe again for the first time in far too long.
Her glazed eyes roll over towards where her husband stands, over the washing basin with the queen. She looks impossibly sad with the crying baby in her arms, and even though Celia wants to be angry she can't bring herself to be. Instead she feels protectiveness, the moment she sees the babe in Rowan's arms.
So pronounced is that feeling, she says, "Give me my baby." As soon as she's able to find her voice again.
Loghain has the child, and he looks at his wife so desperately she's surprised he actually speaks. "You need to rest."
"Let me hold my baby." She says again, hoping the desperation she feels doesn't infiltrate her tone. And she hates that he has to help her hold the babe, she's so weak.
"It's a girl, Celia." Loghain says, watching her hold the baby. Their little girl looks so much like her she could cry, tufts of blonde hair and every inch the shape of her. The babe is the mirror image of her mother, and Celia loves her instantly.
Part of her wonders if this is why Rowan looks so devastated, perhaps she hoped that she and Loghain could pretend for just a minute that their baby was theirs. But there is no denying that the baby is Celia's.
"Darling?"
"I love her." Celia says softly.
"I do too, I love you and our little girl."
How long these words will be enough she isn't certain, but for now they are, and she melts into the moment. Reveling in all that this could be, were it not for the devastation waiting in the wings.