Ferelden, it turned out, was very different from the Free Marches. The language might have been the same… mostly, but the similarities seemed to end there. Leandra spent the first several months constantly on edge, assuming the armed and armored people everywhere were a sign of danger. She wasn't used to the Southern nation's constant state of battle-readiness. She was also surprised to see just how differently women were treated in Kirkwall from men. Although Leandra had always known there was a discrepancy, it wasn't until being plunged into a nation where women were just as likely to carry weapons and fight battles as men that she saw how deeply it went.
They settled on a small farm, not a true freehold but better than the average tenant farmer, not far from Redcliffe. The baby was born healthy, and thanks to the captain of their ship, legitimate as well. It was soon joined by two others within their first three years. At Malcolm's instance they even bought a dog, an enormous mabari who looked at her with liquid brown eyes whenever she spoke to it in a way that made Leandra think the rumors of their intelligence were, if anything, underreporting it.
"How are you," Malcolm asked one afternoon, coming in from the fields covered in dirt and sweat.
"Filthy and exhausted," Leandra replied, one toddler at the table, the other balanced on her hip.
"I know the feeling," he replied. Sitting down, Malcolm stretched his neck. "You know, I think the swordplay lessons are taking more out of me than the fields!"
She laughed. One of the mercenaries who lived not far from them had taken Malcolm on as a student. A man in Ferelden who couldn't wield a blade was strange enough to attract attention, it seemed wise that he learn how- and quickly. Before Leandra could respond Malcolm was out of his seat and lunging across the table. "Carver!" he said, grabbing their two year old's hand, "this is nota toy!"
A knife clattered to the table and the boy, upset at his fun being spoiled, promptly began to shout and argue. He was joined not long after by his twin sister, Bethany.
"Are we just going to let them scream it out?" Malcolm asked her as she set the girl down.
"That was my plan," Leandra admitted. "I gave up on getting them into bed after an hour of this."
"The neighbors must think we beat them," Malcolm observed.
She rolled her eyes. "Really? Since sometimes I wonder if we're the only family in town who doesn't."
"Must be why ours fight so much," he laughed. Glancing up, Malcolm made a face. "Do you smell something…"
"Oh Maker," Leandra rushed for the stairs, taking them two at a time. As she neared the second floor the smoke became thicker. Malcolm was right on her heels. Pushing her aside, he kicked open a door and barreled through. Waving one hand, he looked around as snow blanketed the tiny bedroom, putting out the flames.
"Where is she?" Leandra asked, rushing in after him now that the fire was out. The child sized bed was a ruin, charred almost beyond recognition.
Opening the wardrobe, Malcolm sagged with relief before reaching down. Turning, he displayed his prize to his wife, two dark eyes peering out from a soot-covered face, almost all traces of red hair hidden under the grime.
"Malina, what happened?" Leandra asked, horrified.
Blinking up at her mother, the little girl only said "I had a bad dream" before bursting into tears.
Carrying her downstairs, Leandra cleaned her up before she and Malcolm put the girl back to sleep in their own bed, and carried the now sleeping twins off to their room.
"Well," Malcolm said, sitting at the table once again. "Seems my namesake is also good with fire." Leandra sighed with exhaustion, sitting across from him. "Won't this be exciting?"
One last bit of art! http:/ nirrum. deviantart. com /a rt / Not-So-Different-Piece-3- 243837459
Special super thanks to Miri1984 for betaing this, especially since I was running crazy late and a total nightmare to work with due to random life-falling-apart issues.