Baiting the Dragon
Travelling with a pregnant woman was… interesting, to stay the least.
Their pace slowed once they were out of immediate danger and they camped much earlier, rather than pulling all-nighters or only settling when it was too dangerous to go on.
Anders found himself thinking that he was living on the edge of one of the daggers Hawke so studiously sharpened and polished each night, unsure whether cracking a joke would result in a merry laugh or a death glare.
Some days she was in high spirits, singing at the top of her lungs as she marched far ahead of him. Others he had to push her to keep moving, which usually resulted in her snapping at him to 'stop telling me what to do', and she marched far ahead in order to get away from him.
Well, a result is a result, he thought optimistically on these occasions.
Today was one of her moody days.
He'd taken to doing things for her in order to minimise the strain on her, packing the camp up and all that, and on her good days she appreciated it. But on her moody days…
"Stop fussing, Anders," she snapped. "I'm pregnant, not helpless."
"Just rest, love," he said. "I'll do it."
"I've taken care of myself for years," she snarled. "Don't coddle me."
He'd seen this in his clinic before, fathers-to-be treading around their pregnant women as if they were baiting a dragon, but never fully understood it before he became one of them. Which didn't mean he didn't fear the pregnant women any less. Of all his patients, the most fearsome were the expectant mothers.
"I'm not coddling you," he said in a placatory tone, holding his hands up in surrender. "I know you're capable of anything you put your mind to. I'm just trying to make this time easier for you. You've done many things, but being pregnant is not one of them."
He'd watched her talk people down from a murderous rage- talk him down from Justice- by being diplomatic, and tried to emulate her sense of diplomacy, but failed miserably. She was just about spitting fire at him.
"Is that the best you can do, Anders? You really want to help- get me some blighted bacon!" She stormed ahead and he sighed wearily. Nine months of this? He thought in dismay.
Other days she was almost normal- insofar as the term 'normal' could be applied to Leora Hawke, that is.
It was obvious she hungered for adventure- more than dispatching the occasional bandits that is. Soon even the most desperate bandits learned to avoid the rogue and mage, so she was deprived of even that small pleasure.
Her last seven years had been jam packed in Kirkwall, and before that, hiding her sister from the Templars was no easy job, and she had constantly moved around. She was used to action, and she was getting bored. The travelling life was familiar to her. But she had always hated it.
Anders couldn't even imagine her settling down. He'd had his fair share of adventures with her, and had grown used to constantly being in danger, but rather preferred to stay in one place and help the poor who came in droves to his doorstep, unable to pay healers.
But she would be champing at the bit to get out of a small but respectable cottage somewhere far away from any Templars and find adventure.
Well, he'd known his life would never be boring with her.
XX
She had never cared about reputation. But he was more aware of social niceties- he just tended to ignore them. Not this time, however.
"Leora," he said one day she was in a good mood, "I want to marry you."
She stared at him.
"I don't need some cleric to proclaim us together until death do us part," she said.
"Nor do I," he hurried to say, lest she turn into a dragon again. "But you don't want our child to be a bastard, do you?"
She rubbed her belly- she was just starting to show- gently and remained silent for a long moment.
"No," she said eventually. "I wouldn't put that on a child."
He breathed a sigh of relief.
The next days on the road she spent raging at him, and he prayed that she'd not be like this when they arrived at the next town. No cleric would marry them if she was swearing like a sailor at the man she was supposed to be in love with.
But the idea of married life seemed to appeal to her after she realised it was something to flaunt in the Templars' collective faces.
"The thought of telling them that they'll have to get through to me to get to my husband has something of a romantic appeal," she said with a wicked grin. "And if they want my help they'll have to keep you alive. That'll rub them up the wrong way."
"You're evil, you know that?" Anders replied with a laugh.
"You love it," she said roguishly.
"Too right I do." He kissed her and she kissed him back.
XX
The priest at the next village- a little place called Maraway- was honoured to marry the Champion. It was supposed to be a small ceremony, just the two of them and the priest, but word spread, as it does in small villages, and the whole of the village turned out to watch the Champion get married.
Afterwards, when the couple- now married couple- wanted nothing more than a room to themselves, they had to go through countless strangers congratulating them.
After they finally got away, Leora sat on the bed and stared at her husband.
"That meant more to me than I thought it would," she confessed. "I thought it was just to keep Baby from being a bastard, but partway through the ceremony it hit me that, you're, well, my husband."
He had remained silent, sensing she had more to say.
"I'm not sure I'll be a good wife," she admitted.
"You are a fantastic lover, and I have absolutely no doubt you'll bring the zeal you do everything with into our marriage as well."
Marriage. The word sent chills up his spine. He'd not dared to hope to ever find a woman to accept him, let alone marry him, what with Justice and all, and he'd hardly been able to believe his good fortune when she refused to give up on him.
And now she was his wife.
He kissed her softly.
"I'm positive you will be a fantastic wife."
XX
They stayed in Maraway itself for three months before finding a cottage on the outskirts of the village- far enough away for privacy and to flee if the Templars came looking for them, but not too far that they wouldn't be able to defend the village in the instance of an attack- and bought it. Leora had said she didn't want to travel anymore, as heavily pregnant as she was, and wanted somewhere quiet to bring the child up, somewhere they could play with other children. Growing up with just Bethany and Carver, she'd missed the company of children other than her siblings.
"You're going to be desperate for adventure," Anders said.
"I know. But for the child's sake, I'll do it. I didn't get a chance to settle because of Bethany. But my child won't have to hide and I won't deprive them of friends."
"You're going to be a wonderful mother," he said warmly, kissing her.
XX
When it came time to deliver, the village midwife simply assumed her services were required- but Leora wanted Anders to deliver their baby. The midwife frowned suspiciously.
"He's a healer," Leora assured her. This didn't stop her glaring at Anders as if he was taking her job and would botch it up.
"He's delivered babies before."
"Hmph."
"You can do it," Anders surrendered quickly. He'd encountered midwives before and feared them more than he did pregnant women.
"You'll have to stay in the village," the midwife said to Leora, who meekly accepted her leadership on this matter.
"Yes'm," she replied meekly.
When it came down to it, the doctor was in charge on medial issues. That was something she'd learned from Anders. After her duel with the Arishok, he had confined her to bed for a week, and when she defied him and he found her wandering the house, he had struck the fear of the Maker into her.
It was a day she still shuddered to remember.
Ever since then, she'd treated doctors with the utmost respect, and midwives with even more. She'd met some midwives who scared her more than the High Dragon she'd killed.
So she spent the last month of her pregnancy in Maraway, flooded by well-wishers until she'd begged the midwife to make them stop coming. The only person she wanted with her right now was Anders.
It was another fortnight until she finally gave birth.
It was an excruciating process. She clutched Anders' hand and refused to let go as the midwife kept telling her to push. Hours passed before finally a cry rent the air and a child started screaming.
"It's a boy," the midwife said, examining the child to be sure he was alright.
But Leora didn't relax, and the midwife's eyes widened in surprise. Anders tensed; terrified that something had gone wrong.
"You're carrying twins!" the midwife exclaimed instead.
This should have been good news, but since it meant several more hours of agony, Leora wasn't too excited. It also meant several more hours of having his hand crushed, so neither was Anders.
But once it was over, and the two tiny linin wrapped bundles were placed on Leora's chest and started suckling contentedly, she found it was all worth it.
Staring in wonder at the twins, their tiny faces, their tiny grasping fingers, she felt love so complete overwhelm her that she would have gone through the whole process all over again for them.
Anders picked the boy up later and gazed at the face of his son. A small hand reached out from the blanket and curled round his finger as the boy slept contentedly, now he was no longer hungry.
"What shall we call them?" he breathed.
"Carver," Leora said, looking at the boy in her husband's arms. "And Leandra."
"Perfect," Anders whispered. "My son, Carver. My daughter, Leandra."
XX
The couple remained in town for two more months, learning to care for the babies. Leora had experience with toddlers, having cared for Bethany and Carver as a child when their parents were busy, but babies were beyond her experience.
Carver and Leandra were officially christened three weeks later.
Again, the whole village turned out to what was intended to be a private affair. The two were used to scrutiny- Leora was, after all, the Champion and had never exactly lain low in Kirkwall- but this was become ridiculous.
"Next time we have a private event, we invite the priest out to our place," Leora muttered to her husband as she carried little Leandra to the front of the Chantry.
"The village would just follow," Anders replied wearily, cradling Carver protectively.
"True," she sighed. "Wonder how long it takes people to realise that I gave birth six months after marriage."
"They probably already do. They're just too scared to gossip about you," he said.
"Not bloody likely," she laughed. "This is a small village. No one is immune to gossip here. The most important get it the worst."
"Then we wait for the busybodies to catch up."
They were getting used to all their private events become public ones in Maraway, their private business considered public property. Each and every villager felt it was their Maker-given right to hold the twins and coo over them, until Leora firmly stepped in when the babies started getting irritated and said they had to go home- now. No, Harriet couldn't have one last hold. Yes, they do need sleep, so if you'll excuse us…
"We're the ones who'll have to deal with the crying later," she added under her breath.
They left with countless gifts of booties, bottles, and everything else imaginable, a pile Anders was struggling under while Leora carefully adjusted the twins on her hips, carrying them in a style similar to the way she carried her twin daggers. Her daggers were no longer in her sleeves, just in case they slipped out and she accidently injured one of her children. They were now wrapped around her ankles in a less accessible but much safer style.
She refused to go unarmed.
XX
As time passed, the Champion became less of a focus of village life, and seemed to have come down several notches in village opinion. Rather than telling tales of her deeds in Kirkwall, the women spoke of her terrible cooking, of the fact she didn't leave the fighting to her husband, and that she'd given birth six months after being married- the scandal!
"It seems that because I'm married now, I'm supposed to put my knives down and be a good housewife," she said one day when they passed through the market, each holding a child, and Anders had to smother a laugh.
"You're a fantastic wife, sweetheart, and I love you dearly- but a housewife you are not."
"I know that!" she exclaimed. "I never claimed I was one! No, I excel in most unladylike places."
"Indeed you do," he said with a grin, looking significantly at their children. She blushed.
The fact that she had a voracious sexual appetite was added to village gossip after that.
The villagers of Maraway were fond of their resident celebrity. They disapproved of Anders- it was rather hard to hide the fact that he had killed the Grand Cleric, after all- but that too fell into the gossip of the village, and quite a number of amusing tales sprang about as to how and why he did it.
But mostly they disapproved of him because he had 'stolen' his wife's virtue before marriage and only married her because she was pregnant.
She found these rumours hysterical.
"Varric would be pleased," Leora laughed. "Or disappointed. He's not the only one telling stories."
Life in Maraway was fairly quiet, and both Leora and Anders found that they were too exhausted taking care of babies to crave adventure.
"How did Mother and Father do it?" Leora asked after she dragged Carver out of the kitchen for the hundredth time after he learned to walk. The boy got into everything. Anders could only shrug helplessly.
"It's the best thing I've ever done," he said as he tried to brush Leandra's hair. He knew he wasn't the best at it, but he tried. Leora was no better. Her version of a hairstyle was pulling it off her face so it didn't get in the way during combat. "Raising children."
"Me too," Leora said softly, proudly.
"I'd not trade this life for the world."