Authors Note: In case you guys don't know, the first trailer for Dragon Age: Inquisition has been released. Go and watch it right now; it is all kinds of awesome!

Chapter 21

The sight that graced the city of Amaranthine as Matthew marched through the streets was not one that would soon be forgotten. As the motley group passed to the main gate, they attracted a crowd of onlookers, who like all others before were utterly baffled by the sight of high ranking Chantry priests being dragged around like a chain gang. The citizens grouping together followed the group, unsure of how to react; it was common knowledge that the Revered Mother was not at all popular with the denizens of the Amaranthine, and they all knew that a secular ruler would not attempt to arrest a high-ranking religious figure unless he had a VERY good reason, but they had all been raised from birth to revere the Chantry and its servants, and that was not something that would just be cast aside out of hand.

It took quite awhile to reach the gates of the city; while the civilians usually kept well clear of the group, the arrested Mothers were causing all sorts of problems, either wailing, calling out to the people demanding they stop him, or speaking the Chant as loud as they could as though Andraste herself would come down and save them, which made absolutely no sense given that these women had devoted their entire lives to telling anyone and everyone that the Maker would never return to them until everyone worshipped him no matter how much they asked, and occasionally making attempts to break and run away as a group. Eventually, after he could take no more, he stopped the group and ordered the prisoners gagged and for at least three men or women to keep a hold on the chains, which the guards and his wardens did after a moment's hesitation. Afterwards, they still progressed slowly, but with a good deal less noise and commotion.

The only real problem came, predictably, from another Templar, a teenager who had apparently only just taken his vows and joined the force. Just as they were exiting through the gates, the said anti-magic warrior was helping several guardsmen compound a cart that apparently been filled with stolen weapons and armor. However, immediately upon seeing the precession headed out of the city, he immediately dropped the job, picked up his discarded Sun Shield, and moved to block the exit.

And here we go again, Morrigan sighed, though Matthew knew enough about her to detect a hit of enthusiasm for how he was going to react. Smirking slightly as his wife's comments, Matthew continued on his way, pretending he did not see the obviously approaching soldier.

Sadly, this strategy did not work for long, as the Templar almost immediately came to stop directly in his path. Holding up his one empty hand, he proclaimed, "Warden-Commander, in the name of the Chantry, servants of the Holy Maker, I command you to-"

"Son," Matthew said, holding his open hand out in front of himself. Despite his only being a few years older than the boy in his path, given his experience he felt he was justified in using the term "son". "Don't. Just… just don't. You won't like how this will end."

At first, the templar stood his ground, unwilling to yield to him. However, after Nathaniel and Sigrun moved up the flank their Commander and noticing that none of the guardsmen that he had been working with just a moment before were not coming to his assistance, the young soldier of the Chantry eventually lowered his arm, and stood aside with his head bowed, clearly admitting defeat. Matthew waved the precession onward.

Amazing, he commented through his ring's link. I was expecting to have to wait ten minutes for him to shut up about how it was his divine mission to serve the old bats before I had to pull out the Summer Sword and chop his legs off.

Indeed, Morrigan replied. The intelligence of the Chanty's followers must be inversely proportional to their age.

Uh…

It means that the older they get, the less intelligent they become, was his wife's scathing reply. Or was that too high brow for the mighty Grey Warden to understand?

I get it, I get it!

oo-00-oo

The march back to the Keep was not nearly as speedy as the Wardens' trip to Amaranthine to arrest the traitorous priests; the shackled prisoners slowed their progress to a slow march. Matthew estimated it would take three days to return, yet another annoyance these women had inflicted upon him. Still, in the end, the only thing he could do was keep dragging them along with him.

The group of Warden's, guards, and prisoners had already been marching for a few hours now, and it was already becoming apparent that the last group was not used to coping with even this much physical activity; already they were starting to show signs of the fatigue. He had no intention of stopping, though; this detour was already eating up far more time than he would have liked and he wasn't going let it take anymore than necessary.

Suddenly, he heard a large thump from behind him, followed by a series of crashes and muffled cries. Turning his head, saw that one of the priests in the center of the line had fallen to her knees, apparently hyperventilating through her gag, and had brought the entire line of prisoners to a staggering halt, even sending a few of her fellows into the dust with her. Two of the guardsmen immediately moved to try and get the woman on her feet again, but she didn't pay their prodding or orders any heed. In fact, she seemed to be completely unaware of them; she simply held her manacled hands into her chest in prayer, unaware of the stress it was placing on the arms of her companions, and stared straight ahead with her eyes wide as saucers, breathing so rapidly Matthew began to think she would hurt herself. The guards that had tried to force her back to her feet looked at each other, then at all the other members of the group, unsure of what to do.

After watching the spectacle that had unfolded before him with what he could only describe as completely detached disinterest, Matthew turned to Anders, and gave an almost imperceptible nod of the head in the prisoner's direction, to whom the mage trotted up , knelt down, to and began examining after a brief double take.

A few moments after the Spirit Healer's hands stopped glowing, he stood up, and said, "Best as I can tell, she's just suffering from a panic attack, Commander." Cocking his head to the side, he looked at Matthew, and asked cheekily, "I wonder what could have caused that…"

"Your wit knows no bounds, Anders," Matthew deadpanned, though admittedly with a small smirk. "If you have any spells that could get her back on her feet, I would appreciate it; we have things to do besides escort prisoners, as you are no doubt aware."

"Will do, Commander," was the mage's chipper reply, beginning to channel his magic to get the prisoner moving again.

"NO!"

The sudden scream made everyone in earshot jump in surprise, though it didn't take long to find where it came from; the Revered Mother who had started this entire debacle had somehow managed to get her gag off in the chaos.

"Don't you dare use your filthy magic on a holy mother, cur," she spat at Anders.

"Get her back on her feet, Anders," the Warden ordered, acting as though Morag had not spoken.

"Do you think what you are doing will go unanswered, heathen!" Morag shrieked, now turning her ire onto him. "The Divine in Val Royeaux will bring the wrath of the Maker down upon you and all allies! Entire armies of Templars and Chevaliers, the true faithful, will toss you and your ilk into the Amaranthine Ocean!"

"Oh NO," Matthew gasped, adopting a look of mock horror. "Not the Chevaliers! We would be helpless against such an opponent. I mean, the only recent military triumph Fereldan has to its name is defeating an entire Blight in a year, with only half of the country's backing. What possible chance would we have?"

This got a laugh out of the guards, as any joke that deriding the Orlisians would almost always be found amusing in Fereldan, and two city guards accompanying the precession reapplied the priest's gag before she could continue her rant. By that time, Anders had forcibly calmed down the panicking prisoner and gotten her back on her feet. Thus, the march back to Vigil's Keep continued.

As the march continued and the Commander of the Grey's mind wandered, though, he had to admit that, for all his bluster, his homeland would be in a very bad way if Orlais were to invade again now. While Fereldan had defeated the darkspawn invasion in record time, its infrastructure was in shambles and its armies were gutted. It would take years, maybe a decade or two, before the nation would get back on its feet fully, and many members of Orlaisian nobility would likely make a move to reclaim their "lost province".

This was another reason why he was in favor strengthening ties with the Dalish and the Mages, on top of the simple morality; when the powdered nobles of their neighbor inevitably sent their knights into the Bannorn, they would need something to help balance the odds. And few things could help tip the balance a war than having archers that could pick off the enemy's officers from a few hundred yards away and support soldiers that could fling lightning and fireballs from their finger tips.

Oh, finally, Morrigan exclaimed, voice filled with relief and joy. I was beginning to think that you had no logic or practicality at all!

Oh don't worry, dear, Matthew replied, mentally smirking. I'm sure I'll find some puppies to save from a burning barn to balance it out.

Knowing you, I would not be surprised.

oo-00-oo

The majority of the next three days were spent without any other such interruptions; by the second day, the prisoners had finally stopped all acts of rebellion, some under the persuasion of a few hits to the head with a switch, and the trip reverted to a simple march down the path. Unfortunately, when they had stopped at a small inn to purchase some food and refill their water skins for the guards, they had encountered something of a small riot as the occupants tried to rush the chain gang to try and free the priests. However, once Matthew and his followers had forced them to calm down and explained the situation, even allowing one of the literate patrons to read the incriminating letter, they suddenly rushed the group again, this time with the intent lynching the priests they had just tried to free.

It took a great deal of willpower for Matthew to bring himself to stop them. After that, though, there were no further interferences.

That was not to say the time was pleasant. By this point, the Grey Wardens had been on the road for quite some time, and several days passed the point where they were supposed to be back a Vigil's Keep. Between this and the constant drag of escort duty, every one of the Wardens, even the usually happily drunk Oghren, were extremely bitter and ready to lash out over anything, an attitude which was quickly spread to the Amaranthine guards. Almost all of the Commander's followers sighed with relief when the group finally reached the fortress.

Giving the guards directions to the dungeons and the barracks, to deposit the arrested priests and get some rest respectively, Matthew entered the keep proper, dismissing his Wardens as he did so. While the majority of group immediately went to their bunks, Sigrun stayed with him, following the Commander to the throne room, calling Seneschal Varel to him as he entered.

"Yes, Commander?" Varel said in greeting, giving a slightly startled look at Sigrun.

"Seneschal, I have a new potential recruit for the Wardens," he explained. Gesturing to the dwarf, he continued with, "This is Sigrun, Legionnaire of the Dead. Sigrun, this is Varel, Seneschal of Vigil's Keep."

"A pleasure to meet you, Sigrun," Varel said, offering his hand out in greeting, which the female dwarf hesitantly shook. "We will need time to prepare the Joining ritual so that you can become a full Warden. In the meantime, shall I give you a tour of the Keep and show you where you will be staying?"

Sigrun's face lit up even more than usual at the last comment. "Are Grey Wardens begs made from Ogre bones?" she asked, obviously having waited quite awhile in order to ask that question.

Varel laughed at the comment, and replied "No, I'm afraid they aren't."

Sigrun's face became a mix of disappointment, disbelief and shock. "What? But why wouldn't they be? The Grey Wardens are the greatest fighters against the darkspawn. Why wouldn't you have beds made with bones of the strongest of the beasts?"

"A lack of time, and focusing on themselves alive at the cost of trophies, I suppose," Varel said, clearly not expecting this topic of conversation. However, when Sigrun lowered her head in disappointment, he added, "However, if you can find and bring me some Ogres, I will see what I can do about getting you your bed."

The dwarf had immediately accepted the offer, despite the rather laughable prospect of Sigrun managing to drag back the corpse of such a massive creature; Matthew had seen the dwarf in action, and had nothing but respect for her skills, but that didn't mean he thought that she could lift something so much larger and heavier than her and bring it all the way back to the keep from the Deep Roads. Seeing that the other two were starting their tour while he wasn't paying attention, he began to move to catch up with them.

Don't.

His wife's voice in his mind brought him up short. What for?

Don't you remember what I told you when left on this mission? Morrigan asked, her voice seductive and coy.

Smirking, and deciding to have a bit of fun, Matthew replied, You complained about not being allowed to cast spells?

Not that, no.

You said that as soon as our child was born, you would be out in the field with me again?

Wrong, Morrigan answered, irritation coloring her voice.

Oh, I know! He exclaimed in his mind, still evading the subject he already knew was on his wife's mind. You told Matilda that she wasn't your errand girl, and you could do things yourself!

Stop this incessant foolishness, husband, said an almost demonic-sounding voice over the link between the rings. And come up to our chambers, before you convince me to come down and rearrange you face with a file, a letter opener, and a needle and thread.

Chuckling under his breath, and smirking in anticipation, he immediately began making for his chambers a fast clip. He was so focused on his destination that he very nearly ran right into several servants on his way there, continuing after issuing a series of quick apologies to the victims. By the time he got there, he had already gone up several flights of stairs, still in his armor, no less, and had to pause to catch his breath. Once he was finished gasping, he opened the door, and, still slightly winded, began placing his armor and weapons on his personal armor and weapon racks, until he was wearing the padded clothes he put on under the metal chain mail. Entering the main area of his personal quarters, he looked around for Morrigan… and when he saw her, his jaw landed somewhere in the deep roads.

Morrigan was standing in front of their bed, standing at her full height, arms crossed on her chest, and a look of indignation and annoyance on her face. That was not what held his attention, though. What did was the fact that his now heavily pregnant wife was wearing her old ropes from before she had taken up Arcane Warrior abilities. She had, somehow, managed to fit herself back into her patchwork leather skirt, her distended stomach making the fit extremely tight. Her purple top was also draped over her belly, and her homemade bra now looked severely undersized.

"Well," she spat, apparently unaware of the effect she was having on him. "Are you finished being a complete simpleton, or would you like to keep on- mph!"

She never even came close to finishing her sentence; Matthew crossed the room, pulled Morrigan into as tight an embrace as her girth would allow, and began kissing her senseless, which the woman returned after a moment of surprise. Continuing his assault on his wife's mouth and tongue, Matthew began reaching around Morrigan's bare back, searching blindly for the strings that held her fragile top and undergarments together. Finally, his hand brushed across the knot, which was undone almost a second later. At the same time, Morrigan was unlacing his shirt and pulling it up over his head, forcing them to momentarily separate before launching back into their Orleasian kiss with renewed vigor.

Eventually, and they were never able to recall exactly how, the enamored couple ended up on their bed, Morrigan sitting upright against the head rest with Matthew kneeling next to her, continuing their oral wrestling match, with one hand on her check and the other bringing her now bare leg up against his hip.

Unfortunately, as all this was happening, a highly unwanted burst of logic managed to worm its way into his lust-crazed mind, and as much as he wanted to, he simply could not ignore it. Drawing back slightly, Matthew interrupted the exercise, much to his wife's annoyance.

"Wait, Morrigan," he asked, the thought that had gotten in his mind making quite confused. "Didn't Matilda say that we shouldn't be doing this?"

"Yes," she answered briskly, with a hint of her condescendence whenever she felt she was speaking to someone acting thick. "What of it?"

Narrowing his eyes, now more confused than ever, Matthew asked, "Well, if Matilda said we shouldn't be doing this, then why are we-". Before he could finish the question, though, he suddenly realized exactly why Morrigan was disobeying her mid wife. "Never mind, silly question."

"Good," his wife replied, satisfied with his answer. "Now, if you please…"

Smirking, he immediately resumed their activities a second time. As the couple continued, Matthew began to shift his hand from Morrigan's knee up to her thigh, and then higher still. Gently, he eased his hand into her undergarments, pushing them down and off of her legs. Returning back to wife, Matthew began rubbing two fingers against her clit, causing Morrigan to moan into his mouth. Continuing, he went on with his administrations for nearly a minute.

And then felt his hand drenched as a large amount of water game gushing out of his wife all at once.

The couple became stone still, neither one moving, and with their eyes wide as saucers in surprise and mortification. Of all the things that could have happened during their lovemaking, this was not one that either of them had expected.

"Please tell me that wasn't what I think it was," Matthew said, almost begging that Morrigan would refute what was right in front of him.

"I could, but I would be lying," Morrigan sighed.

Matthew groaned softly, than muttered, "Alright then." Climbing off the bed, he pulled his trousers back on, then helped Morrigan stand upright. Going to the dresser, they pulled out a white nightgown, and Morrigan pulled it on over her head until it reached slightly past her knees. That done, they returned to the bed, and Matthew helped his wife back into the bed where she laid on her back, head propped up on the pillows.

"Are you comfortable," he asked, suddenly acting extremely professional even though it really wasn't necessary.

"Yes, I suppose," Morrigan said, reaching over to her the book on the nearby dresser. Upon closer inspection, Matthew saw it was Flemeth's grimior.

"Alright then," Matthew said. "I'll go and get Matilda." And with that, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. With that Morrigan sighed, and began reading from the old tome, resigned to a long wait to an event that would no doubt be unpleasant.

Suddenly, the door to their chamber burst open again, Matthew stormed into the room, utter fury on his face. Before Morrigan could do anything more than flinch, though, he came to a stop at the side of the bed and leaned forward, staring down at her stout midrift.

"When you get out of there," he snarled at the quivering bulge, "you are in SO. MUCH. TROUBLE!"

And with that, he stormed off to find the midwife. As he did so, though, he felt a quick tightening of his abdominal muscle. Writing it off as anticipation, Matthew ignored it, and began his search for Matilda.

oo-00-oo

12 hours later…

At Vigil's Keep, like everywhere else people lived, births were not uncommon, especially during times of conflict when refugees were constantly pouring into the castles and fortified towns and cities for safety and shelter. Thus, the screams of someone in labor pain were not unusual.

What was unusual, though, was that the woman was not the only one who was in agony.

Matthew and Morrigan collapsed after the last contraction, both sweating boulders and eyes bloodshot. Thanks to the rings they shared, the both of them were going through the same ordeal. Morrigan had told him to take off the thing once the pain had started setting in, but, stubborn as he was, Matthew refused to take it off, saying that if she would have to endure this, than he would do the same. A sentiment he had quickly come to regret.

By all the demons in the Fade, he groaned in his mind. Getting chewed on by the High Dragon in Haven was PLEASANT compared to this!

Well, you were the one who insisted on doing this, came Morrigan's, not unreasonably, unsympathetic reply.

He merely grunted in reply, sagging into his chair, staring at the closed door to his main chamber. In spite of the fact that, for all intents and purposes, he was giving birth also, Matilda had kicked him out of bedroom for the entire process just like every other expectant father in her career. It was the first time that he had been just as peeved at the woman as his wife had been.

Suddenly, through the like of their rings, Matthew felt Morrigan suffer another contraction, and the two through back their heads and howled in pain simultaneously. It seemed to take forever for it to pass, and the moment it did, through the door, he heard his wife shout, "Damn it, woman, how much longer is this going to take?"

"It is about halfway out," Matilda replied, her tone detached and unemotional, the product of dozens, if not hundreds, of such experiences. "Now if you would please be quite, and push, this will be done a great deal sooner."

Snarling in fury and helplessness, Morrigan did as she was told, until she had yet another contraction. She let a tortured sound that was somewhere between a groan and a scream, while Matthew simply locked up, unable to move or scream, and nearly blacked out. As soon as the contraction stopped, Morrigan gathered her breath, turned to face the closed door, and shouted, "Matthew, you bastard, you did this to me!"

"Oh, don't even try using that argument with me, woman," he shouted right back. "Having this child was entirely YOUR idea, REMEMBER?" And to back up his point, he immediately sent memories of the night in Redcliff when Morrigan first revealed her plot to him. She was about shout something to continue the argument, but Matilda ordered her to push again, ans so she never got the chance.

And finally, after what seemed like an eternity, with one final push, she finally felt the baby slip out. Groaning in exhaustion, Morrigan fell back on the bed completely, her vision clouded and covered with colored blotches. Panting heavily, she rolled her head to the side, nearly passing out. In the other room, Matthew felt exactly the same. Head bent over, he very nearly fell on the floor in sheer exhaustion.

Then, they heard it. The first sounds of their new born child.

It wasn't the wailing that Matthew had heard when his nephew, Oren, had been born. Instead, they heard a series of rapid, hitching breaths, the kind one makes when they are about start sobbing, but are trying desperately not to. His entire body trembling, Matthew pushed himself up from his chair and began stumbling to the door, leaning on the wall for support. Finally getting to the door, he undid the latch and, hands shaking the whole time, pushed the door open.

The first thing he saw was Matilda's back, hunched over a tub of warm water holding a bundle of cloth, and occasionally dipping a smaller piece of cloth into the tub, and bringing it back up to bundle in her arm. Turning, he saw Morrigan staring into space, glazed eyes focused on nothing, as an elven servant sponged the sweat from her face.

"Morrigan," he murmured, hobbling over to his wife as quickly as he could. Reaching the bedside, he knelt down, as much because he didn't think that his legs could hold him up any longer as to lower himself to Morrigan's level, and gently took her hand, causing her to finally focus her blank gaze on him. "Morrigan, are you-"

That was all he could get out before his wife suddenly had his throat in a vice grip with the very hand that a moment before had been in his gentle grasp. Constricting the vice, Morrigan leaned forward, and snarled, "We… are never… having any more children… UNDERSTAND!" He winced as his wife's voice became a scream.

"No complaints here…Ma'am," he chocked out. Releasing him, he began gasping for breath again, clutching and messaging his neck. After a few moments, he looked up, and found that Matilda had turned around and began walking back up to the couple, cradling the bundle close. Matthew felt his breath stop, listening for the tiny gasps he had heard before coming in.

"Is… is…" he stammered.

"It is a boy," the aged midwife said calmly, no doubt having faced all this many times before. "And he is, so far as I can tell, in perfect health." And with that, she handed the bundle, which they now noticed was squirming under its own power. Morrigan reached out, and Matilda gently placed the swaddled child in her hands. And when she brought the bundle back to her chest, the couple got their first look at their son.

The infant had a soft, round face, and a full head of flaming red hair, the same color as his father's. The skin was blueish grey, but with a few patches of pinkish red on his cheeks that were growing larger even as he watched. His forehead seemed to be covered in very fine hairs, and his skin was coated with a thin layer of a white substance that the Warden did not know about. As the couple drank in the sight, still not believing that this day had finally come, Matthew suddenly noticed that their child's sobs were starting to increase in pitch and volume.

"Shh, shh," he hushed, stroking his newborn son's cheek with his finger. "Don't cry little one. We're here, you're safe…"

As soon as he began speaking, the child quieted and stilled. Then, as he finished, the babe slowly opened his eyes, looking him directly in the face. Eyes that were as golden as his mother's.

Matthew was stunned by this, and wrapped an arm around Morrigan's shoulders and pressed his head against hers, crying and laughing at the same time.

He recognizes my voice… was all he could think. He recognizes my voice…

And so it begins… he heard Morrigan sigh through the ring link. Had she spoken normally, it would have sounded as though she was merely mocking him for being so sentimental. However, he knew that that was only part of it; deep in mind, he could see that she also meant that their journey of reinstating the religion of an Old God, an act that could quite possibly get all three of them killed, had now commenced.

However, for the moment, as Matilda ushered the elven servants out of the room to allow the new parents a few moments alone, none of that was particularly important to the couple that now fancied themselves the happiest people in the world.