Marching, they were always marching.
The light, yet constant rain had made her simple footwear a hazard where any wrong step could lead to a twisted ankle at worst or a mud covered rear-end at best. They had made their way back from Nevarra City at such a fast clip that Bethany had struggled to keep up with the other three Grey Wardens. Her Joining had been months ago but whatever edge the Taint had bestowed upon her was nothing compared to the combined factors of experience and hardships that had sculpted her comrades. No matter the terrain or obstacle they always seemed so deteremined to achieve their collective goal no matter how mundane or monumental the task.
When they finally reached their particular Mausoleum, from the vast necropolis that sat just outside the Nevarran capitol, their small party was greeted by a number of ancillary members of their Order. Most of them were selected from the local population. None had undertaken the Joining themselves but sought out to serve the Grey Wardens in some capacity, many out of reverence for the history or tales, and others because their husband or wife drank of the Chalice.
A beardless dwarf gingerly took the small bag Stroud had entrusted in her care. The brand beneath his eye reminded Bethany of one of Varric's recountings of how the the social order worked beneath the feet of most Fereldens. The young dwarf had been born casteless, somehow braved his way to the surface, and came into service of the Grey Wardens. She offered him a weak smile to which he nodded then sped back to the shelter of the hauntingly ornate structure and out of the moist, feather touch of the sky.
"Oh, I can't put this any other way but, Bethany, I love you very much. I felt so empty inside when you left with Stroud but now you return and this feeling I thats been building up in the pit of my stomach is just, just undescribable."
Soaked from head to toe whilst her feet were caked in mud and errant bits of rocks and straw, Bethany simply narrowed her eyes at the impassioned ex-Templar.
"Do you know how hard it was to hide this", the young Mage gestured at the small bulge of her stomach, "from Stroud? I mean, I spent one night in your damn room and suddenly you think I'll bend over backwards for you at the drop of a helmet."
The Last Theirin gave her the most solemn, watery eyes he could muster. Alistair's bottom lip trembled as he held out his hands towards her belly. With a harsh sigh Bethany lifted her mottled robes and shoved the smelly, little bundle of joy into the man's arms.
"Oh, you've made the me happiest man in all of Thedas. It smells like... home", he took a long sniff while he dexterously untied the bit of twine that held the wrapper shut.
"No, it smells like feet", Bethany quietly complained to herself. "My robes now reek of cheese and feet. Particualry big feet, probably much like Qunari feet."
"What was that?" Alistair asked between noisome nibbles.
"Nothing, just that you owe me for the cheese wedges and the bar of soap I obviously had to pick up along the way. Now put that away, we were picking up provisions, personal correspondence, and of course the stipends from Weisshauptt. If Stroud finds out I was shopping for personal gain, who knows what he'll do."
"Bah, probably make you peel tubers or mage up some cooking fires", he waggled the fingers of his gauntlets noisly at the floor between them.
"Mage up?"
"Conjure? Summon forth? Twitch your nose? I've even heard some Antivan Mages do elaborate dances to-"
"Oh hush, and eat your smelly cheese somewhere private. Right now I need a good bath and, ugh, a change of clothes."
Bethany turned and began a weary walk to the back rooms of the converted Mausoleum.
"Thats not going to happen anytime soon. Our mustachioed leader says we're heading off to the Anderfels to meet with a Senior Orlesian Warden to get briefed on a particularly chatty Darkspawn Emissary called The Architect."
"What?" she spun around on her heels, an exasperated look was plastered across her face.
"Specifically we're heading out once the Crypt is restocked, so unless the four of you were carrying some deceptively heavy parcels...", Alistair casually stated while he shoved the mostly untouched cheeses into a small oil stained pouch tied to his belt.
"Eww, don't call it that."
"Oh, sorry, we are departing from the Grey Warden Compound once the provisions have been stored and accounted for. Better?" the slightly elder Warden offered.
"Infinitely."
"You mages and your fancy words. Two can play at this game... persnickety."
"I'm not even - no. I can't bathe so that means you can't try to game with me."
"Aww."
"I'll suffer no whining, either."
"Well that leaves me with - I'm just gonna bang the hilt of my sword on my shield in displeasure then."
Bethany waved off the ridiculous man then quickly made her way back to her creepy, creepy room to gather her things.