Summary: Even in domestic bliss, there remain battles to fight. Phaedra/Fenris family fluff, post-Kirkwall.
Disclaimer: In no way, shape, or form do any of the recognizably canon characters or places belong to Yours Truly.
Queen's Quornor: As you can probably tell, this is going to jump all over the timeline post-DA2. I used to wonder how Hawke might have told Fenris that she was pregnant if such a thing came to pass, and with Phaedra having miscarried their first child there's a very large wrinkle thrown into the mix here. But here's how I think it might have happened, after she discovered that she was once again carrying.
Second Chances
Phaedra stared out the window, her eyes resting upon the rolling hills painted in the indigo palette of twilight. She leaned against the stained and sanded timbers that held the glass, one arm bent and clamped upon its straightened partner. To the casual observer she appeared to be examining the scenery with unusually pensive eyes. But in actuality her thoughts were turned inward, mulling over a quandery.
For every great tragedy in her life, it seemed the Maker have her something wonderful in repayment. The loss of Lothering and her sister had ended in nine of the most wonderful, emotional, and turbulent years of her life. Her broken heart had been mended by an unexpected pregnancy, and the loss of that same child had eventually resulted in her reconcilliation with Fenris. The destruction of her life in Kirkwall had been soothed by her marriage to the man she loved aboard Isabela's new ship.
As well as another pregnancy.
She thought of the new life - lives - nestled beneath her heart, just below the scar that marked her first child's demise. She had sensed their prescence herself this time, being far more attuned to her body that she had been three years ago. As a spirit healer she was aware of everything that went on within her flesh, and she had been startled awake last night when she had felt the newly-conceived babes implant themselves within her womb. Fenris had awoken with her, but she had been too shocked to inform him of this momentuous change in their lives. She had allowed him to lull her back to sleep, and by the time she had opened her eyes to the morning sun he had gone to town with Varric and Donnic. Aveline had remained at the inn with her, plagued by morning sickness, and Anders had stayed to ease the other woman's misery. Carver had settled himself in the common room, keeping a careful watch for anybody who might try to disturb them.
Phaedra was terrified and elated by the news. On the one hand, this was not her first time carrying. The miscarriage had virtually shattered her for three years, especially combined with her certainty that Fenris no longer cared for her as more than a friend. The discovery that her worries were groundless had helped her heal at long last, but now the old pain was back, and mingled freely with fear. There were no qunari about, she knew that, yet she could not shake the irrational anxiety that a horned behemoth was going to pop up and impale her, piercing her in the exact spot marked by her largest scar. If not the Arishok, then raiders or bandits. If not highwaymen, then templars. Templars were her greatest nightmare; given what had happened in Kirkwall, she was one of the two most coveted captures on the Order's Wanted list. If she was caught, what would stop a knight from slamming his mailed fist against her womb, ridding Thedas of a potential mage or two? The idea made her shiver, and she wrapped her arms around herself to fend off the chill.
Even if violence did not befall their children, there was a litany of ways for her to miscarry again. She could fall off a horse, catch a sickness, trip down a staircase, catch Fenris' falling greatsword with her stomach. Her womb could prove inhospitable, or something about the children might be incompatible with continued existence. It was really up to the Maker's whims whether she carried these babies to term or not.
How was she to tell Fenris?
She rested her head against the window frame, a quiet sigh whistling past her lips to lightly fog the glass. It wasn't that he would be upset by, or disgusted with, the news. He would probably be overjoyed, in his quiet way. The timing was just bad, as it had been the first time. Then, he had withdrawn from her out of fear and confusion less than a month beforehand. Now, they were on the run with the entire Chantry howling for their blood. They had no home to call their own, and no real means to support a family beyond what sovreigns they carried. They were all too recognizable for mercenary work, unless Fenris agreed to help mages. He may have married and mated her, a lifelong apostate, but that did not mean his opinion of her kind had changed. She was the only mage he trusted, and it was doubtful he would ever accept another.
Unless one of their babies, if not both of them, had magic.
Phaedra pushed the thought away. She would worry about that if it ever came to pass. For the moment, her major sources of concern were keeping her babies alive, and providing for them.
One thing was certain. She did not want to raise her children as she and her siblings had been. They deserved a stable home in which to learn and grow, especially in their formulative years. Spending most of her childhood on the road had been a mixed blessing, and while she loved traveling and getting into all sort of adventures, it was not the kind of activities she considered suitable for children. She had hated passing through all those villages as a young girl, knowing that they would not be staying, that all the happy kids she played with would be going to cheerful, warm homes while she had to sleep in a cold wooden wagon. Her parents had their reasons - extremely good reasons! - for living on the road, but she did not want that childhood for her babies. There had to be a safe place for her and Fenris to go, somewhere for them to settle and raise their family without fear of templars, where she could trade her title of Champion for "Mommy."
The apostate let a rueful smile crease her lips. All she had ever really wanted was a husband and children, and the freedom to live peacefully with them in a comfortable home near friends she loved. She should have known her heart's desire would come with a twist.
Phaedra caught the scent of sweat and cool, fresh spices mingled with weapon oil, and her smile deepened. A moment later arms slid around her waist, drawing her back against a warm, muscular, and decidedly lanky body. She relaxed and covered his hands with her own as soft lips pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head.
"That took longer than I expected," she murmured.
"We were gathering intelligence as well as buying supplies." The rich depths of his voice vibrated along her back, making her melt even closer against him. "It seems we have even more trouble than we originally thought."
Phaedra sighed. Somehow, she was not surprised. "How much worse?"
"We're not certain. Varric is checking for more information, but this is a potential catastrophe."
"Fenris, speak plainly. What's going on?" she asked, turning in his arms to search his jade eyes.
Her husband wore a slightly deeper scowl than usual, his dark brows knitted in a furl. Even in his anger his lips just begged for a kiss, she thought, working to surpress her smile. "Do you remember that prince-turned-priest in Kirkwall? The one who hired us to avenge his family?"
Phaedra thought for a moment, then slowly nodded. She had not had many dealings with the royal brother after her return from the Deep Roads, although they had exchanged greetings whenever their paths crossed at the Chantry. "His name was Sebastian, wasn't it?"
"Yes, and currently he's the Prince of Starkhaven. The only survivor of the Kirkwall Chantry."
She noted the dark cast to his eyes, and something inside her knew the tidings were worse than he was letting on. "Drop the other boot. I already know I'm not going to like this."
Fenris let out a snort. "That might be an inadequate expression for how you're about to feel." She continued to look at him, lifting one brow in silent prompt, and the elf tightened his grip on her waist a bit, a nervous tic he had developed these past weeks. "He's become a fanatic since Anders pulled his little stunt. He left the city to retake his throne, and has raised an army to avenge Elthina. Apparently he has vowed to raze Kirkwall to the ground if it means capturing both Anders and the Champion. I doubt he will be satisfied with merely throwing you both in a Circle somewhere."
Phaedra bit her lip. She knew why Anders, her best friend and spiritual brother, had done what he did. She had forgiven him as soon as the shock wore off and Meredith advanced on him with blade drawn. But her forgiveness meant little in the face of world-wide outrage. Even Varric was still trying to accept his actions, and what he'd set in motion. Fenris pointedly ignored him now, out of respect for his wife's close relationship with him and, Phaedra suspected, because Anders had been her support when she was first pregnant and Fenris was emotionally distant, and he had saved her life when she miscarried. Her husband no longer hated Anders, because he was the reason she was still alive, but nothing would ever convince him to try and get to know the other man, much less foster a friendship with him.
"Does this prince know where we are?" she asked quietly.
"Varric will know for certain, but I believe this particular opponent is as unaware of our movements as any other." Fenris embraced her hard, then released her and crossed the room to their little bed, seating himself on the edge while he tugged at the buckles that secured his gauntlets. "Regardless, I would feel more comfortable if we put more distance between us and the Free Marches. You are too famous here, Phaedra, and far too recognizable."
That was true. Her parents had never been able to tell her where her moonlight pale hair had come from, but her father once said her eyes, the bright green of new weeds, were those of his own mother. In addition to her physical features, Phaedra had a light brown tattoo of seven hawk feathers winding down her left arm in a loose, elegant coil. She had gone to sleep with Fenris after their reconcilliation, and the markings had appeared by the time they awoke. It turned out that the tattoo was Feynriel's doing, and it had been a complete accident. The Dreamer had sent a letter to the Hawke estate and, in a very nervous and embarrassed manner, explained that he had dreamed of Phaedra one night, and painted the artwork in an effort to make her look even more fey that she already did. He had not meant to leave the markings, but he had been jerked from his sleep before he could erase them and had been unable to find her in the Fade the following night. Fenris had been suspicious of the tattoo for a week or so, until Phaedra assured him it was nothing more than a design beneath her skin. It was lovely, but also unique. One more way for their pursuers to find her.
"We're both too obvious, love," she murmured. "We need a place to hide where they can't easily find us."
"Orlais is out of the question," Fenris grated. "They have too many faithful eyes, and Varric has heard that the Divine has increased the templar presence within the Circle. Apostates are hunted ruthlessly now, and if they are Harrowed escapees they are killed on sight."
"Probably the safest country in all of Thedas would be Tevinter, but it's not an option. That is one viper's nest where I refuse to venture." From the corner of her eye, Phaedra saw her husband relax. "It would be safe for me, but I'm not going anywhere without you. Besides," she added with a little smile, "it's hardly a suitable environment for our family."
"I agree. We don't want Carver or Varric in that country, and Anders has enough problems. He would not remain in control if that spirit saw the magisters' evil." Dropping his gauntlets and pauldrons to the floor, Fenris flopped back upon the straw tick and closed his eyes, one arm flung across them. Phaedra pursed her lips, a little crestfallen that he had missed her hint.
Leaving the window, the apostate went to her husband and joined him on the bed, pressing against his side and resting her hand over his heart. Funny how such an intelligent man could be so dense at times. "How about Ferelden? I traveled all over the country when I was a child, and King Alistair and Queen Tamera are sympathetic to mages. They've sheltered apostates and runaways before. They would do the same for us."
"Do not forget that you are possibly the most politically dangerous person in the world now. They might be sympathetic, but their sentiment isn't shared by all of their subjects, and the Divine might declare an Exalted March on Ferelden if too many notable apostates are suspected of hiding there." His arm curled around her, and his free hand covered hers. "If we go there, it would be prudent to remain hidden rather than announce ourselves in Denerim."
"A city isn't what I had in mind. I think a village would be best for children, or a little house somewhere."
"I'd prefer a house with few people nearby," he replied.
Phaedra fought the urge to stare at him. Was he being dense, or deliberately obtuse? "Are you getting what I'm trying to tell you?"
He regarded her with a quizzical expression. "You want to live away from people, don't you? Reclaim yourself as a person, and not Kirkwall's Champion?"
"That's only part of it." Evidently he would need a more concrete hint. She rolled onto her back and carried their twined hands from his heart to the sleek expanse of skin between her hips. Pressing his fingers gently, she gazed at him with a soft, mysterious smile.
He looked at her, then their hands. A confused frown pulled at the corners of his mouth for a minute, then vanished in lieu of utter shock. "Phaedra, are you trying to tell me... Are you...?"
"With twins," she whispered.
Those beautiful eyes were huge upon her, filled with joy and...apprehension? No, it was fear. Raw fear. "Are you certain?" he rasped. "How long have you known?"
"It happened last night, when I woke up and you held me." She sat up, letting his hand fall away. A part of her had suspected he might react this way. "Fenris, are you afraid for us? Me and the babies?"
Her husband rolled onto his side, away from her, curling himself loosely. She regarded his armored back with sympathetic eyes. He still carried the vestiges of inferiority and self-loathing instilled by a lifetime of slavery and the barest scraps of his memories as Leto. Her love had done much to heal the wounds, but some scars remained. He wanted a family to love and protect, and he was terrified of actually getting one. "I feel unworthy, Phaedra. I almost killed my sister, the only family I had left, and I don't have any idea how to be a father. What sort would I be? I'm a - "
"You're a good man, and a protector," she interrupted. "You built yourself up from absolutely nothing, fought for your freedom when so many in your place would have given in and accepted the shackles." She lay behind him and fit her body to his contours, sliding her hand up his arm until it rested atop the hard curve of his shoulder. He shook lightly as her lips grazed the base of his neck, atop the lyrium tree beneath his flesh. "You have such strength, love. You don't let many people in, but you care so deeply about those you do. You do everything in your power to protect your loved ones. That's all a father really is: a man who protects and cares for his children. You are going to be a wonderful father, and what you don't know we'll figure out together."
"Aren't you frightened?" he questioned, his voice low. "After what happened with our first child, I can't... I don't..." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, shuddering with the intensity of his worry. "What if it happens again? I almost lost you then. If you die because I got you with child again, I couldn't live with myself."
So that was it. The miscarriage and its emotional aftermath, her closest brush with death, still haunted him just as it had her. But Phaedra had finally moved beyond that loss once her had reassured her of his love. Fenris, it seemed, had yet to forgive himself for unwittingly setting the event in motion.
"You didn't do anything wrong, my love. If I had been thinking, I would have cast a contraceptive dweomer upon myself after we finished. It was nobody's fault that I conceived that night, only the Maker's whim. As for what happened, that was the fault of circumstance. The Arishok wasn't aiming for our child; he had no idea I was pregnant." She sighed and closed her eyes, breathing of his scent deeply. Fenris was no longer trembling, but he remained tense against her. "That's what hurt me the most. There was no way to avoid that duel, not without risking innocent bystanders and the people I love. Regardless of what I did or said, the odds of my ever holding that child in my arms were very small."
"I keep wondering what our baby would have been like," he confessed. "Was it a boy or a girl? Did it have human features, or elven? Would it have been a strong, compassionate leader like you - "
"Or a sensitive, passionate, deep fighter such as yourself?" she smoothly finished. That note was back in his voice, the note which accompanied a strike against himself. "I used to torment myself with thoughts like that, after I recovered. But Fenris, we have another chance. We have created two new babies, and this time we'll be more careful so it doesn't happen again. I'm an even stronger healer than I was three years ago, so I can prevent another miscarriage, if necessary. This time, we're going to meet our children. We will have a family to replace the ones we have lost. I'm carrying our future, not my doom."
Fenris was silent for a long while, and Phaedra lay quiet against his back, wishing he could free himself from the demons of the past. If she, who still carried the marks of her despair upon her arms, could move beyond that dark night when she had lost their child, why could he not?
Because that was just the way he is, she thought sadly. They were alike in that they blamed themselves when things went wrong, even if they knew it was not their fault. Fenris berated himself for Orana's father's death, just as Phaedra laid her mother's death at her own feet. Her husband would think of every way to try and avoid another miscarriage because he did not want to see himself as responsible if the unthinkable happened again. It would continue long after the birth, even after their children learned to protect themselves and left their home.
He was going to be the most protective father in the world, once he accepted that he could do this.
"Have you told anybody else yet?" His voice came in a soft murmur.
"I felt you should know first, since I no longer require a middleman."
She drew back as he slowly shifted to face her, his jade eyes so vulnerable. "Do you still want me by your side? It might be safer for you if we separated. I could lead the pursuit far away, where they will never find you."
Phaedra stared at him, aghast. "How could you even think such a thing? I nearly lost you once, I'm not losing you again!" She bit her lip, meeting his gaze. "I can't stand the thought of living without you, even if it was for my safety. These babies deserve to know their father and I'm not letting my husband leave me behind. Don't you remember our vows?"
"'To walk beside you beneath the forest and the open sky, beyond the Veil as in life, in happiness and sorrow, in hardship as in prosperity'." He shuddered and reached for her, crushing their bodies close. "I meant every word when I spoke them, and I mean them now. It's just that I'm worried about what this means. I had anticipated traveling all over Thedas, as I eluded Danarius before I met you. Remaining in one place when so many hunters are on your trail seems foolish. However," he amended into her hair, " it does have its strategic advantages."
Phaedra waited patiently, already aware of what he would say. Fenris had his moments of spontaneity, but he was a somewhat predictable man once one knew what to expect. Over the years, she had come to know him better than any of her friends, on more than one level.
"You once told me it was a miracle that your father kept your family safe and secret from the templars all your life, especially after you settled in Lothering. But perhaps it was more than luck. You were all hiding in plain sight, not drawing attention to yourselves. Perhaps that could work for us, as well?" he asked, trailing his fingers along her spine in a slow circuit. One of his legs tangled with hers, but the laziness of the action meant he was only looking for physical contact, not intimacy. The aversion to touch had been totally abolished for her; Fenris used her as a security blanket in private, where he knew nobody else could witness his vulnerable side.
"I don't want to risk it. Things are different now, and the templars are going to kill or Tranquil any mage they uncover." She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his, taking solace in the contact. "I don't want to have our children, build a good life with you, only to lose it all when a mage-hunter realizes who I am."
"So we are to live in solitude. A good plan, but not the safest one. I'd rather we chose a location somewhat close to other people, just in case we need help," he told her, his breath hot against her lips.
"I still think Ferelden would be best, since it has less people per square mile than other countries. It's also the most mage-friendly right now because of the role the Circle played in the Battle for Denerim."
"Do you remember any good places to hide?"
Phaedra pondered the matter, arching softly against her husband's long fingers. Nobody could give a back massage like him."There are two areas that might suit our needs. The mountains, or the forest. I remember a couple of settlements around the forest, but for the most part it's just the Dalish clans living beneath the trees. The only issue is that the Veil is thin there, and the forest misleads any trespassers if they venture too far. On the practical side, we would have to depend on the land for our food."
"I know how to hunt." He smiled at her surprised look. "I can't use a bow, but I can get close enough to an animal to kill it. How did you think I fed myself after I fled Danarius?"
"It never occurred to me," she admitted, looking at his nose instead of his eyes.
His soft laughter rolled over her like a firm caress, leaving her flesh tingling in its wake. "I can provide us with fresh meat. You can handle the foraging, and between us we can feed our family."
A good plan, that. Phaedra had studied herbology under her father, and he had made certain she knew which plants were edible and which were to be avoided. She had been responsible for supplementing their friends' meager traveling rations with wild fruits and vegetables for years.
"We'll need a home," she pointed out. "Anders might be able to help me shape some trees into a house, but it will take some time. I am not terribly well-versed in that form of creation magic."
Fenris shook his head vehemently. "That is not an option. This will be our home, and I will build it with my own hands. If I need help, I will ask for it, but I'd rather he not have any part in the construction."
She drew back slightly to look at him. Just when she thought she knew everything there was to know about her husband, he managed to surprise her anew. "You know carpentry?"
"A fair amount. Danarius once ordered me to build a separate wing onto the servant's quarters for a breeding stud he acquired, and I was only allowed one helper. The elf I chose taught me the basics, and I was able to erect a passable dwelling for the stud and the women chosen for him. The rooms stood firm until the stud died of exhaustion, and all the babes he sired with the women had arrived. Once he was dead, Danarius decided it was less than profitable to keep a stable of breeding slaves and burned the building." His jade eyes held some of the old resentment, but Phaedra also detected a gleam of quiet pride therein, of satisfaction with this long-ago accomplishment. "A house is not much different from that wing. I won't let you or our children live in some ramshackle hut."
"I never expected you would. It just surprises me that you have some knowledge of carpentry, considering that you never performed any repairs whatsoever to your manor."
He shrugged and offered his faint smile. "There seemed little point in fixing the mansion when I had no real estimate of how long I would be staying. Additionally, repairs would have roused even more curiosity from my neighbors, and the tax collectors would have been even more aggressive in confirming my prescence."
"By the way, did Isabela ever tell you how she got that first collector to leave you alone? It really is quite an amusing tale," she murmured, lowering her arm so it draped across his waist rather than his ribs.
"The fate of any victim she left alive is something I would rather not entertain." Fenris dragged his finger firmly down her back, working a kink in the muscles. "Living in seclusion, we won't have to worry about such matters as taxes. With luck, nobody will even realize we are there."
"I'd say it's about the time Maker gave us a stroke of good luck. We're certainly due for one." Phaedra nestled against him, tucking her head beneath his chin. "So. Now that we have settled the matter of where we are going to live and how we are going to erect a home, there is another we must discuss. Are we going to tell the others we are expecting yet?"
He buried his nose into her hair and sighed, but she felt the smile curving against her scalp. "Not for a few days. I want to enjoy this a while longer."
"Once again, we are of like mind, my love," she breathed, fancying she felt the joy of their children at knowing their father was with them.