The next morning Leandra woke and darted to the pot in the corner. Her mother must have been passing by: at the sound of her daughter violently ill she rushed in without warning. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Stomach," was all she could reply, still doubled over.

Elizabeth moved closer, putting a hand on her daughter's forehead. "No fever," she said. "Still, best have the mage take a look." She paused at the doorway. "Leave the door open."

Leandra made her way back to the bed, rolling her eyes. "Leave the door open," she mimicked. "Too late for that." Smiling, she laid back, remembering the feeling of his hands on her skin the previous night.

"Leandra?" Glancing up she saw Malcolm in the doorway, wooden staff on his back. He looked worried. "Are you all right?"

"Just an upset stomach," she said. "It's nothing."

"Let me decide that."

Walking over to the bed he rubbed his hands together before blowing on them dramatically, winking at her. She couldn't help but chuckle, stopping only when another wave of nausea hit her.

The first spell was pale blue. Malcolm knit his brow in concern, making a noise of distress.

"What?" she asked as he paled.

He began cycling through spells quickly, one shade of blue after another as his lips moved without sound.

"Shit," was all he said finally, sitting next to her.

Leandra pulled herself to her knees, moving closer. For all his worry she seemed to feel better already. "Mal, talk to me," she insisted, hand on his arm. "Am...am I all right?"

"You're healthy as ever," he said. "You're also pregnant, but that in and of itself isn't illness."

"I'm..."

"Yep..."

"Shit," she said.

He offered her a small smile. "I love how often we agree on things."

"You're sure?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Please don't kick me when I'm down. I'm still a healer; yes, I'm sure."

"Shit."

"Yeah, I think we covered that." He groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Well… what do you want to do?"

She sighed, falling back. "I have no idea." Rolling to her side, Leandra looked over at him. "I figured you knew, I don't know, spells to prevent this sort of thing."

Malcolm paled, mouth forming words without sound for a moment. "Shit," he finally managed. "I'm an idiot."

"So… you do know spells?"

He nodded. "I… well… it's just…"

"Yes?"

"So did every woman I've been with before you. I guess I… forgot that you wouldn't be taking care of that yourself."

She stared at him. "I'm very tempted to hit you now. Very hard. Just so you know."

"I'd deserve it," Malcolm said.

"You would," Leandra agreed. "But… it's just as much my fault as yours. There's things I could have done. Teas—"

"Those are practically poison," he said, cutting her off.

"Well, we should have talked about this in advance," Leandra finally said. "Too late to argue about it now."

Malcolm glanced over, face unreadable. "I can… take care of it. If you want."

She narrowed her eyes. "You sick son of a bitch!" Leandra said, punctuating each word with a punch to his shoulder. "How could you say that ten seconds after I find out!"

"Woah!" he scooted away, hands up. "Stop hitting! I didn't say I wanted you to!"

"You don't?"

"Maker, no," Malcolm said with relief. "But it's your decision. Ultimately your life will be upended way more than mine."

Leandra moved closer. "Well, what are our other options. Not… that, though."

He sighed. "If the Chantry finds out I'm the father they'll take the baby." She made a noise of horror and Malcolm nodded in agreement. "Mages can't have children, if they do the children belong to the Chantry. That's the law."

"Absolutely not," she said. "Over my dead body."

"If necessary, I'm sure they will," he said, giving her a warning glance. "But… you can always lie about who the father is," he offered. "I'll understand." Malcolm looked nervous, pushing his hair back. "Although I should warn you, odds are better than not it'll be a mage. It's hereditary."

She looked amused. "I think the Comte would know it isn't his, considering I haven't even let him kiss me." A plan was forming in her mind. "One more option?"

"Oh?"

"We can run away?" She was too nervous to look over and see his expression. When he didn't respond Leandra whispered "Mal? You… don't want to?"

Turning her by the shoulders, Malcolm looked at her. "You're serious?"

"No, I said it to change my mind immediately after. I guess the mood swings have started already."

He sighed. "Why am I suddenly terrified I'll regret this?"

"Because you're an ass?"

"Ah, all right," he smiled. "I should have guessed as much." He turned serious. "You know you'll probably never see your family again. We'll need to get away from Kirkwall, probably leave the Free Marches completely, just so the templars won't track me."

"How about Ferelden?" she said with a slight smile. "No new language to learn."

"You are utterly brilliant," he said, beaming, "and I love you." Leaning forward, he rested one hand against Leandra's stomach before kissing her.

They were interrupted by a shocked gasp. Parting, Leandra met Malcolm's eyes briefly, both wearing identical expressions of fear. Malcolm closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing before turning around. Lady Amell stood in the doorway, a look of horror on her face.

"Go downstairs, Malcolm," her mother said quietly.

He stood, wringing his hands. "Lady Amell, I, uh, we-"

"Downstairs," she repeated, cutting him off.

Leandra put a hand on his arm, nodding. There was nothing he could have said to talk them out of this. "All right," he said quietly. Reaching the hall, he turned back once more, looking Elizabeth in the face. "My lady, I'm in love with your daughter."

Lady Amell looked pained. "I've gathered as much," she said. Once alone she turned to her daughter. "Wait here." Leandra suspected her mother was making sure Malcolm wasn't listening at the door, since she returned only a moment later, shutting the door behind her. "Nothing to say for yourself?"

"What should I say? It wasn't what you think? It probably was. That it was an accident? I don't think it's actually possible to accidentally stick your tongue in another person's mouth." She shrugged. "We didn't plan for this to happen, we fought it… but it happened. And now it's out."
She sat down on the edge of the bed. "Maker's breath, Leandra. Do you have any idea what this would do to your reputation if it got out? What Guillaume would say?" She paled. "He would call off the wedding. Your reputation would be destroyed. Even if he doesn't… have you…?" Something in Leandra's expression must have answered the question. "How do you plan to hide that on the wedding night?"

"Simple," Leandra said. "By not marrying him."

"You can't!"

"I won't marry someone I don't love. Especially not when I'm in love with someone else."

"Oh, so you plan to… what? Marry the Circle mage?" She raised her eyebrows. "You know as well as I do that's impossible." She stood up. "Enough damage was caused to this family when Revka's girl turned up a mage. I won't let you drag it any further down. You aren't the only Amell in Kirkwall, we all have to live with the consequences of your actions."

Leandra argued, but kept one thing to herself. She had no idea how her mother would react to finding out about the pregnancy, and part of her feared the Chantry would only end up getting advance warning. Eventually they both gave up on convincing the other and Leandra was left alone.

Once dressed she went off in search of Malcolm. One of the servants was in his room, boxing up a sheath of papers. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Boxing these to send them off to the Circle," he said, giving her a sympathetic glance. "A templar collected Serah Malcolm to bring him back."

Leandra swayed on her feet, sinking along the wall to the floor. "What?"

He turned to face her. "I am sorry, Lady Leandra. I know you were… fond of him." Hands on her stomach, she couldn't reply. "Your mother said 'go to the Chantry, get a templar to bring him back.' We didn't have any choice." He walked over kneeling in front of her. "If it makes you feel any better, he put up quite the fight. Lad's lucky he can heal himself or I'm sure he'd be aching for quite some time."

She gasped in horror before running off. Not surprisingly, her mother and father were talking in the study. She would have called it arguing based on the volume but the two seemed to be in complete agreement. "What have you done?" Leandra said, bursting into the room.

"What I should have done months ago," her father said. "You've ruined yourself for that mage, our only hope now is if we double your dowry the Comte won't call off the wedding."

Horrified, she could only shake her head and leave them to their scheming.

Days passed, and then weeks, but Leandra saw no way out of the problem. Letters sent to the Gallows were returned by the templars, her attempt to visit was stopped before she could even get on the boat.

One afternoon, perhaps a month after Malcolm had been taken away, Leandra attended a meal at the Harrimann's Kirkwall estate with her family. They seemed surprised she wanted to attend, considering she had barely left the house since Malcolm was taken away. No one knew she had a letter to him folded into her sleeve, hoping the Harrimann's family mage could find some way to deliver it.

Over dinner she claimed to develop a headache. Shown into an empty library, Leandra waited for the healer. A thin man in robes with pale eyes and a chinstrap beard eventually entered. "You are Leandra Amell?" he whispered.

"Yes," she said. "Do you know Malcolm Hawke? Can you get a letter to him?"

"I'm Tobrius," he introduced himself. "Malcolm had a message for you." Her eyes widened. The young man smiled. "When I overheard you were going to be here I sent a message to him right away. He had written telling me what happened."

"He didn't write me!"

"He tried," Tobrius said. "Your parents told the Circle…" Leandra made a face, wondering why that hadn't occurred to her. "He said to meet him at a tavern in Lowtown called the Hanged Man. It's not far from the docks." The mage looked at her, making sure she understood. "Near the docks."

"Good," Leandra said, feeling relief wash over her. "When?"

"Tomorrow night, as soon as it's dark."

She grabbed his hand. "How can I ever thank you?"

"Simple," he replied. "Don't get caught. And if you do… don't tell them I helped."