A/N: All props to FenxShiral for the Project Elvhen elven used throughout. I'm not sure if I'm conjugating it correctly but "vunlanal" is giving birth or labor.

Thank you again to all my lovely readers and especially those who take the time to review! I hope you continue to enjoy! We're nearing the end...I'm still writing chapter 51, which will be the last chapter. Then epilogue then...*cries* all done. Finishing stories is kinda like sending a child to college. I drag my feet, remembering all the good times we had, and I wonder where the time went...They grew up so fast! I know, not really the same thing at all, but writer problems, yo.

Forty-Three

Vunlanal

Ellana hadn't ever witnessed a birth or attended one within the clan—a fact she regretted now. Although births were fairly common—one every few years—in a sizable and healthy clan like Lavellan, Ellana herself had either been too young to aid in one or busy with other duties. None of the women who'd given birth while she was a teenager had been family members or close friends, so Ellana hadn't been called on to leave her usual duties as a hunter. When Rinaya, her sister-in-law and close friend, had given birth to her niece, Ellana had been far away leading the Inquisition.

It was Rinaya and her mother Ellana kept thinking of and longing for as Solas, Dorian, and Sera seemed to flutter and flap around her like startled birds. Rainier stood away from her bed, his stance awkward and his face twisted in something like discomfort. Abelas, meanwhile, had left without being asked and returned with Solas' three other Elvhen advisors: Lyris, Mathrel, and Zevanni.

As soon as Zevanni entered the room the Anchor crackled, lighting up until it seemed to illuminate every bone in her left hand. The pain burned, robbing her of breath as badly as the contractions did. She gritted her teeth and clutched it, rocking with the pain, and heard the shuffle and flurry of activity as Dorian tried to comfort her and Solas sprang to his feet and moved to his advisors.

"You," he growled at Zevanni. "Get out."

"What?" she asked, scowling.

"The foci," he said, still biting out the words. "Take it away."

Zevanni heaved a sigh, rolling her eyes. "Ma nuvenin," she said and whipped around, stalking from the room.

As the sound of her footsteps retreated down the hallway, Ellana felt the pain in her hand recede and flopped like a boneless fish against the pillows behind her, panting. Dorian squeezed her shoulder. "Are you all right, love? I take it that wasn't about the baby that time."

"I'm fine," she said, sighing. She didn't have the energy or patience to explain that it'd been the foci and let her eyes drift shut. It was late afternoon in Halamshiral and the golden sunlight lit the room in dull hues, making everything seem hazy and dreamlike, except for the contractions. Solas had brought her to a room near the one they'd shared during the peace talks and found her new breeches that were just a tad too long and too wide at the waist, meaning she had to hold them up if she moved around much.

"I sent one of the Dalish Firsts to Halamshiral to look for Inan," Lyris said and Ellana could hear the frown in her voice. "But she may not find her any time soon." The unspoken meaning was obvious: no one knew if the physician had survived the chaos of Solas' rebellion. They might never find her.

Solas hummed, a sound of acknowledgement, then spoke quietly, "Mathrel, I need you to find Mahanon and ask him to retrieve Ellana's mother, clan Lavellan's healer. Mahanon may already be in the Emerald Graves."

Another contraction seized Ellana's belly then and she grabbed the bedspread with clenched, sweaty fists and whimpered as pain washed away everything else. As soon as the swell of the contraction passed, Ellana let out a long breath and blinked, seeing that Solas had settled at her bedside again. He'd reached out, pressing his palm to her belly and letting the cooling flow of healing magic tingle over her taut muscles. It took the edge off the pain but couldn't stop it entirely. Her back ached worse than her belly now.

"Ow," she said, grunting as she tried to smile at him. "Doesn't this look like fun?"

He chuckled. "Indeed. I should try it some time."

"You three," Lyris barked at Rainier, Dorian, and Abelas. "Out."

"I will aid Mathrel in searching for Lady Lavellan's brother," he said and then, with a nod in her direction, Abelas turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

"What?" Dorian protested immediately, scoffing. "Why? Lana hasn't asked us to go."

"Dorian," Rainier spoke up from the door. "Maybe she's right and we should wait outside."

The Tevinter mage crossed his arms over his chest, glowering at both Lyris and Rainier. "I'm only leaving if that is Ellana's wish."

"It isn't proper," Lyris protested, cheeks flushing red as she looked to Ellana and then Solas.

"What `bout me?" Sera interjected, motioning at Ellana. "This about having a cock or not being one of droopy ear's arse-kissers?"

Lyris scowled. "This is about propriety. Men are not useful in the birthing room—other than the father, of course."

"I agree," Solas added, his face had also reddened like Lyris', though his voice remained cool.

"No one cares about your opinion," Dorian snarled.

Losing her patience, Ellana groaned, forcing herself upright again and stabbing a finger at Dorian. "I care, but you're right that only I decide who stays and who goes. And I say you can stay if you'd like—but only if you're going to help and not argue. Do you understand?"

Dorian wrinkled his nose a moment, narrowing his brown eyes as he glared briefly in Solas' direction. Then, sighing, he said, "Tell me how I can help. I'd like to stay until your family or the healer arrives. You could use the extra magic, yes?"

"Hardly," Solas grumbled. "I possess more magic than you will cast in your entire lifetime."

Now Ellana grunted as she half-rolled, half-scooted to jab a finger accusingly at Solas. "Athim," she reminded him, glaring. "No fighting. Or by the void I swear I will kick you out until he's crowning."

Solas cringed at her threat. "Ir abelas, vhenan."

"I'll…go wait in the hall," Rainier said, clearing his throat and shifting uneasily. But he looked to Ellana and smiled with warmth. "I wish you a swift, easy birth, my lady." His smile widened into a grin. "And my money's still on this being a boy."

"Not that again," Solas grumbled under his breath as Rainier left the room with a steady thump of his armored boots.

"You know something about childbirth?" Lyris asked Sera.

The archer shrugged. "Maybe." She watched Lyris through eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. "Why…?"

"I'm asking because you're not pale as a sheet the way the bearded human was…" Lyris turned her head slightly then, jerking it in Solas' direction. "And hahren."

Solas glowered at her but said nothing as Ellana chuckled at his expense, thinking he really did look alarmed by everything. His skin, always pale, had an ashen quality now and a thin sheen of sweat. The hunched set of his shoulders belied unease where he sat in the chair at her bedside with his elbows on his knees.

Sera cackled. "Right yeah? Seen guys toss up their cookies they can't take just watching it. Bunch of scaredy-nugs runnin' round pissing their breeches." She motioned at Solas. "Even daddy droopy ears here who put it in there." Again Solas scowled at her but said nothing other than huffing with what Ellana interpreted as indignation.

Ellana shifted, trying to find a better position to ease the constant pressure and aching in her back as Lyris took advantage of Sera's surprising comfort with the situation and put her to work gathering supplies. Surprisingly, after the initial suspicion, Sera didn't resist Lyris taking charge of the scene and swiftly moved to do as she'd been told. By the time the next contraction hit, Lyris had coordinated their group into a more cohesive unit with the sole goal of comforting Ellana through the wave of pain. She and Dorian applied counter pressure to Ellana's back and used magic to ease the discomfort there while Solas, with his more powerful mana reserves, worked on her belly. Sera brought her water to drink and distracted her with jokes or crude tales as time dragged on, marked by one contraction at a time.

The sun had set before Mathrel and Abelas arrived with a gaggle of Dalish elves in their wake. Mathrel and Abelas stayed just at the threshold to the room while Mahanon, Ellana's mother Ashani, and a handful of other clan Lavellan members rushed inside.

"Asamalin," Mahanon called to her, stopping at the foot of her bed and leaning forward to touch her ankle, only to let out a little gasp and withdraw his hand as if burned when his eyes took in the silver glint of the chainmail she still wore over her upper body. "You're still wearing chainmail?"

"What?" her mother gawped, pressing forward to stand near where Solas was still sitting. "Truly, Lana? Did you expect you'd be able to fight even now?"

"You never know," Ellana quipped, forcing a smile despite the pressurized aching in her back that never went away, contraction or no. She gripped her belly with one hand, grunting as she sat up to better see everyone who'd come storming into her room and her jaw dropped as she saw far more than she'd expected—including numerous men who had no discernible reason to have come for a birth. She was about to protest when she saw that all of them carried gifts in their arms. Her cheeks warmed with gratitude then and she let out a half-laugh, half-sob.

"We hoped we weren't too late," her Keeper said, smiling from the opposite side of the bed, near where Lyris and Dorian sat. "Gifts like these should have been bestowed on you before the birth and labor. Ir abelas."

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about," Ellana told her, eyes burning with emotion at the sight of her clan members' smiling faces. "I'm just glad you're all here."

"Are all of you staying?" Dorian asked, arching an eyebrow. "Because I'm not sure there's enough air left in here for all of us."

"Right `bout that," Sera grumbled, nose wrinkling at the excess of "elfy" elves all around. "Huffin and puffin and pushin a kid out I can handle, but this many elfy elves?" She snorted. "I'll be in the hallway—if I can even get to the door."

Ellana was about to say something in reprimand but a contraction gripped her, robbing her of her voice before she could speak. As she breathed through it, eyes clamped shut and teeth gnashing, she felt magic flow from all three mages attending her, Dorian and Lyris behind and Solas at her front. But then she also felt another hand reach for hers, squeezing with surprising strength. As the pain gradually faded again she recognized her mother and smiled with relief.

"Mamae," she said, blinking moisture from her eyes. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Of course I'm here," she said, a playful note of reprimand in her voice. "I wouldn't miss this for anything. Now…" She stepped closer and motioned at Solas. "Please, hahren, I think it'd be best if you received the clan's gifts on Ellana's behalf so that we can clear the room and I can examine her."

Solas' brows knit as he glanced between mother and daughter, lips twisting up and then down as if he couldn't make up his mind whether to do as he'd been told or argue. Finally Ellana reached out for his hand and squeezed it. "You won't be missing anything, emma lath. Mamae wouldn't let you miss the birth."

Still appearing reluctant, Solas nodded. "Ma nuvenin, vhenan." He rose from his seat and edged past her mother to usher the clan from the room and into the hall.

As Rinaya took Mahanon's place at the foot of her bed, Ellana's mother gestured at Dorian and Lyris. "You must leave as well. I can hardly send the father from the room and leave you both."

Lyris made no protests as she left the bed, moving for the door with a last nod to Ellana.

Dorian scowled as he watched Lyris go, huffing indignantly. "But Sera gets to stay?"

"No," Sera grumbled, shaking her head violently enough that her blond hair flopped. "No, I don't. I'm leaving, like I said, yeah?"

Dorian sighed. "Oh, all right." He let Sera tug him away from the bed and out the door to the hallway beyond, slamming the door after they exited.

Alone now except for her mother and Rinaya, Ellana felt the sudden silence as a physical weight pressing down on her and realized suddenly these two women hadn't pushed everyone else out just to examine her. She frowned, looking between them and seeing their tight, worried expressions. "What's wrong?"

"Mahanon told us you ran away from…" Rinaya shook her head, fidgeting. "From hahren."

Her mother brushed a tender hand over her cheek, smoothing back the few strands of hair that'd fallen onto her sweaty skin. "Has he mistreated you? Hurt you?"

"We…" Ellana licked her lips, struggling to think of a concise and yet accurate way to describe it through the ongoing distraction of pain from her back. "…had a rather large disagreement. Regarding what he did here when he took Halamshiral."

"But Halamshiral is ours," Rinaya said with a hard note in her words. "He did the right thing. Mahanon said you were constantly under attack. The empress aimed to kill you both. Hahren showed great restraint in sparing her life and letting her free."

"Hundreds of people died," Ellana snarled, feeling heat spread through her. "We didn't need to take it this way. We could have just asked the Inquisition to escort us from the city. The Chantry and Inquisition together would've overruled Celene and forced her to end the sham peace talks. We would have been fine."

"But Halamshiral would not be ours then," Rinaya insisted. "Hahren was clever and gave the shemlen what they deserved for daring to—"

"He didn't consult me," Ellana protested, raising her voice. "And taking Halamshiral the way he did will have made us look like villains to the rest of Thedas and strip us of allies. Not all of the People are inside the Emerald Graves. There are thousands still outside our protection and the humans will take out their wrath on them.

Rinaya shrugged. "City elves. If they were smart they would have fled to join us months ago."

"We are all of the People," Ellana snarled, glaring at her sister-in-law. "You have no right to judge them as less than the Dalish."

Rinaya's blue eyes widened as she shook her head. "I'm not, Lana. I'm just—"

"Enough," Ellana's mother scolded the other elven woman with a wave of her hand. Looking to Ellana, she said sadly, "Rinaya is worrying about your actions drawing hahren's ire to our clan. As if he will banish any who disagrees with him from childish spite."

Ellana let out a brittle laugh, eyeing Rinaya with surprise. "Is that what you're afraid of? Truly? Have you seen the way Mahanon and Solas get on?"

Sighing, Rinaya's shoulders slouched and her head drooped. "Ir abelas, Lana." After a moment she flashed a slight smirk at Ellana. "I have heard the way Han talks about him," she said, using Mahanon's nickname.

"What matters here is if you are happy and comfortable," her mother said, again caressing her, then wiping with a cluck of her tongue at the sweat lining her brow. "Has he redeemed himself? Apologized?"

Ellana swallowed the lump in her throat. "Yes."

Now Rinaya chuckled, gripping the bedpost as she grinned. "To think of the Dread Wolf humbling himself to you is pretty funny, Lana."

Despite her lingering irritation with her sister-in-law, Ellana grinned and laughed. "We'll have to come up with a new legend to account for Fen'Harel's humbler side." As Rinaya returned her grin, Ellana started to add something but gasped as another contraction hit her instead. She fumbled for her mother's hands, gripping them as hard as she could while her heart pounded against her chest and the pain swelled to obliterate everything else.

She groaned as it gradually lifted, but the back pain remained agonizing. "I…don't know how I can keep this up," she admitted as she found tears on her cheeks. "It…really hurts."

Rinaya laughed. "Tell us something we don't know."

"You will endure, ma ashalan," her mother said, tenderly brushing her tears away with a thumb. "Now, we must get you up and undressed." She frowned with an expression of classic maternal disapproval. "You are not giving birth wearing chainmail. It's no wonder you're so miserable and it's still early. This is not hard labor, da'len."

"It's only going to get worse. Much worse," Rinaya put in.

Ellana groaned. "Why did you have to tell me that?"

Solas smoothed his right palm over the dark gray-black fur of the great bear pelt, admiring its softness and the fine, smoothed edges. It held a musty scent and the faint odor of wood smoke from the fires that must've burned nearby as it was prepared. When he looked up at the man who'd given him the gift—Lerand—his smile was genuine.

"Fine work," he praised. "And an impressive kill. Ellana and I fought several great bears during our time in the Inquisition and they were ever the challenge."

Lerand grinned. "Ma serannas, hahren." He dipped his head in a little bow. "Mahanon told me you can never have enough bedding once there's a little one around. They're always making a mess—especially one that's related to Lana." The young warrior's brown eyes glazed slightly with affection as he went on. "She was always a troublemaker, even when we were knee high to a halla. Did she or Mahanon ever tell you about the time she got into the crafter's pigments and painted on all the halla and the aravels?"

Solas arched an eyebrow, his smile widening. "No, I have not heard this tale." He wondered if Lerand recalled trying to tell him about killing a bear with Ellana in some kind of quest that went awry and ended with them cleaning halla dung as punishment. Was this gift of a great bear pelt a purposeful reference to that misadventure?

Snorting, Lerand stifled his laughter. "Fenedhis, Deshanna was so mad! She forbid Ellana ever touching paint again."

"All right, da'len," an older, gruffer voice spoke up then and Solas saw an old man shoulder Lerand aside. The old man was at once familiar with his large ears so reminiscent of his animal nickname-sake—the fennec fox. "Hahren," the old man greeted Solas. "A pleasure to see you again." He bit his lip. "One I did not expect to have."

"Negan," Solas said, feeling something warm and joyous swell inside him. Negan had been dying in the fall with a disease of the lungs. Clan Lavellan's healer had not expected him to survive the winter. Yet, thanks to Ellana's plan, he'd been still alive when the clan reached the Emerald Graves and the restored Fade had worked its wonders on the old man. He was still wrinkled and gray, but his brown eyes glimmered with life and his knuckles were no longer knobby with age and his skin looked firm and healthy. When he spoke, his voice was stronger than Solas remembered and he stood erect and supple like an unruly sapling, ready to endure another thousand years.

"I would be dead if not for you and Ellana," Negan said and then chuckled. "Dead twice over without Ellana, actually."

More than you know, Solas thought. His own plans would not have restored the Fade soon enough to save the old hunting master. Negan would be bones now, a soulless body rotting into the dirt, if not for Ellana's stubborn insistence to forge ahead with Mythal's plans. His heart ached with gratitude for her, a lump of emotion forming in his throat and tightening his chest.

"We owe you a great debt," Negan went on, solemn and with a touch of moisture in his eyes. "More than we can ever repay…" Negan shifted slightly and then pulled off the pack from his back, holding it with one hand as he rummaged with the other. "But I had hoped to show some of my gratitude to you both on this great day with my gift." He pulled out a forest green bolt of thick cloth that Solas recognized as being the surcoat of Dalish scout armor, but it'd been modified in a way he couldn't immediately puzzle out.

As Negan handed it to him, the old man must've seen the confusion on Solas' face and chuckled. "Ir abelas, hahren. I should have realized its uses would not be readily apparent to one who has not lived surrounded by hunters who are also mothers."

Pointing to the leather drawstrings along the sides of the surcoat to bring Solas' attention to them, Negan then mimed tugging with one hand while the other curled away from his chest. As Solas continued to stare at him, baffled and failing to understand the motions, the old man gave up and chuckled. "It is for breastfeeding," he said bluntly.

Now Solas' mouth opened in a startled O-shape and a hot blush stole over his cheeks. He cleared his throat, taking the surcoat back with a respectful dip of his head. "Forgive my foolishness, lethallin. You are correct that I have had very little experience with such things."

Negan smirked. "You will soon rectify that, hahren." He dipped his head again in another little bow. "I wish you and Ellana all the best. I will be eagerly awaiting the moment I have the pleasure of meeting your little one. Perhaps one day I will get to teach your da'len how to hunt just as I taught Ellana."

Solas smiled warmly and returned the small bow-like dip of his head. "Dareth shiral, lethallin."

More of clan Lavellan followed, each bestowing at least one gift on Solas until soon he had a heap of various goods behind him from the great bear pelt to the Dalish scout armor modified for breastfeeding, to the proliferation of nappies, swaddling blankets, and baby clothes. Solas thanked each person as he received the gift, smiling with genuine gratitude at their generosity and thoughtfulness and trying to quash the faint guilt churning in the back of his mind at how bitter he'd been toward the Dalish simply for the way they'd erroneously remembered the past—and himself.

They will remember us differently now, he thought and tried not to feel troubled by the way some of the elves stared at him with wonder and awe, their reverence for him a frustrating reminder of Elvhenan. The slaves he'd freed had deified him, no matter how often he tried to repeat that he was not a god. If they hadn't known Ellana, hadn't raised her so they'd seen her paint halla or enrage her father by trying to elope with Lerand on a bear hunting expedition, and all the other trivial, funny stories that made her a person, they might've started deifying her as well. Would his child one day face the same danger? What if his child claimed the mantle of a god someday, despite Solas' wishes?

He pushed such thoughts out of his mind as idle and fear-based—the niggling anxieties of a man facing the reality that his life would never be his own alone beyond this day. He would be a father, bound forever by blood to this world of Tranquil where the Veil still held back the Fade over most of Thedas. He would never be He Who Hunts Alone again, and any mistakes he made would invariably affect them.

The Forgotten One, Banal'anaris' oath echoed in his mind: She will curse you with her dying breath. Your child will never know you and deny its heritage in shame, bowed and broken as a slave in Tevinter. The fear demon he'd met in the Fade only a few nights ago also whispered again through him: You kill those closest to you.

As Solas watched Abelas escort most of the visitors from clan Lavellan away, leaving him in the hallway outside the room where Ellana still labored, a sense of cold dread spread through him. Dorian, Sera, Mahanon, and Rainier were in the room adjacent to Ellana's and had left the door open, letting him hear their quiet, idle chatter. The hallway was dark with only a few candles lit. Rubbing his face for a moment as he tried to dispel the anxiety churning in his guts, he cast a veilfire orb with his other hand and watched it float toward the ceiling. The white-green light clashed with the gold-yellow from the candles in the wall sconces, glinting against the gilded trim and decadent paneling.

A swift tread thumped from the far end of the hallway and Solas tensed, turning to stare down the approaching visitor. His stomach clenched, sinking to the floor as he recognized Var and saw the Elvhen rogue's face was pinched and grim. The veilfire glittered on the sweat lining his brow in small beads. "Fen'Harel," he called, puffing and breathless as he jogged nearer. "I bring grave news."

"Yes?" he asked, squaring his shoulders and raising his head as his spine stiffened, ignoring the cold tremor that coursed through him. "Dirthera." Tell.

"Dalish scouts report campfires to the north," Var panted as soon as he was close enough not to yell.

Solas inhaled sharply, closing his eyes and turning his head away as he clenched his jaw. "I see." The chatter from the other room had ceased, going quiet as the two humans and two elves listened. "An army?" he asked.

"An advance force," Var said. "Or so they think. Maybe a hundred men they guess."

"Under what banner?" Solas asked, looking back at Var.

"It was dark," Var stammered, shaking his head and shrugging. "The scouts couldn't tell with certainty. The encampment is still a hard day's march away, but there were horses so we could see them by noon tomorrow would be my guess."

One constant advantage Solas' forces had over all others in Thedas was the use of Dreamers. He didn't need to question Var to know how the rogue had come across this information—it'd be from Zevanni. She'd touched base with her own scout leaders using the Fade, just as Solas would be doing about now if this had been a normal night.

"An advance force," Solas repeated, his mind spinning the details around, slipping pieces together. "And mounted." He grunted. "I doubt the Orlesians could respond this quickly. It must be Inquisition or Chantry Templars."

"But only a hundred of them?" Var asked, making a face somewhere between confusion and disgust. "Could they truly underestimate us so terribly?"

"No," Solas said, frowning. "This is a courtesy given to us by Divine Victoria and Lady Nightingale. The advance force will most likely demand that we surrender unconditionally or face annihilation."

Even in the poor lighting Solas could see Var's face pale, his eyes widening. Lips pinching into a hard line, the rogue's gaze drifted to the closed door of Ellana's room and in the silence that'd descended between them Solas could hear the murmured female voices followed by a small, strangled cry of pain. Solas' throat tightened at the sound of it, his muscles snapping taut and the knot in his guts growing. Why did this have to happen now? Couldn't the Divine and the Inquisition wait just a few more days?

"Zevanni told me Lady Lavellan has returned," Var said, eyes flicking to Solas with something akin to desperation. "But…she's not well…?"

"Our child is coming," Solas confirmed, heart pounding and voice tight.

"We don't have the Fade," Var said emphatically. "We can fend off a hundred Templars or Inquisition soldiers, I think, but we'll lose people. It'd be a waste."

"If the time comes and we must fight these hundred men, I will dispense with them," Solas told him.

Var frowned, brow knitting with worry. "Can you handle a hundred Templars with the Veil in place?"

"Yes," Solas replied without hesitation. "With a few others for backup." In truth it might be somewhat taxing. He could petrify a few dozen in rapid succession but with the Veil stifling him he'd reach mana burnout and be a weak, shaky mess for a few minutes while he recovered. The bigger question was whether Ellana would approve. What was he to do if he couldn't consult with her because she was unconscious or thoroughly distracted and indisposed?

"Should I tell Zevanni?" Var asked.

Solas nodded. "I would ask for her aid in fighting them if it becomes necessary." He'd need other mages nearby, able to keep a strong barrier over him in case he reached burnout and found himself vulnerable. Zevanni was the second most powerful mage in his forces and the foci's designated carrier, the ideal choice as backup, even if her counsel was less than wise and her bloodlust a tad overwhelming.

"Good," Var said with a nod of his own. "I'll relay it to her." He started to back away, ready to pivot and dash away, but halted as his gaze slid to the door of the room Ellana labored in. With a grimace, he said, "I hope the child comes quickly and safely…" He smiled. "Fen'Harel enansal."

"Ma serannas," Solas thanked him with a tight smile. As he watched Var hurry away Solas sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. A thump of footsteps came from the room with the open door to his left, adjacent to Ellana's. Glancing up, Solas saw Mahaon's grim face in the doorway, leaning out and staring at him.

"An attack is coming?" he asked.

"That has not been determined yet," Solas replied, cagey. Twisting at the waist, he looked to the pile of gifts clan Lavellan had given him and sighed. "Fenedhis. The timing of this is…"

"Obnoxious?" Mahanon supplied, arching an eyebrow. "Irritating? Frightening?"

"Yes," Solas growled. He moved to the gifts and knelt, grabbing several swaddling blankets, nappies, and the breastfeeding surcoat Negan had given them. As he stood again Mahanon made a little noise to catch his attention and left the doorway, striding to him as he pulled something he'd been wearing beneath his robes off and over his head, extending it to Solas.

Mahanon said, "This is my gift. It's made of halla skin, so it's as soft as silk. Lana will love it and I'm sure your baby will too. Rinaya wouldn't leave our aravel without hers."

Solas did some juggling with the other items he held, tucking some beneath his arm so he could take the proffered gift. It was a sling, as soft to the touch as Mahanon had promised, as pale as freshly fallen snow. Solas smiled, immediately seeing the value in such a practical gift. "Thank you, lethallin."

The younger man nodded. "It's my pleasure." Then, smirking, he jerked his head toward the closed door. "Now, get in there." He fidgeted a moment before adding, "Lethallin."

Smiling warmly, Solas replied, "Yes…falon."

Mahanon beamed back at him. "Falon."

Solas crossed the hallway and opened the door to the bedroom, slipping in gingerly. Closing the door behind him, he heard Ashani and Rinaya's voices singing softly in elven, a lullaby he'd heard before echoing in the Fade. The simple beauty of their gentle voices sent a shiver of awe through him, prickling his skin in gooseflesh. The room was dark now except for candles lit in sconces by the bed. A faint scent of sweat lingered in the air, intermixed with something salty and sweet. Ashani sat on the bed beside Ellana, stroking her forehead in a slow repeating motion while Rinaya busied herself mixing a greenish powder into a porcelain teacup, stirring it with her finger.

As Solas stepped forward Ellana gasped and writhed, hands fisting in the bedspread. She shook with pain and the sight of it made something inside Solas' own chest hurt with sympathy. He'd never attended a birth before, ever. In his village he'd been too young and not inclined toward the healing arts at the time, so the chance had never come up. Most of his life had been spent alone in the wilderness, communing with spirits rather than other elves. Once he'd joined Arlathan's court he'd had occasion to interact with expectant mothers, but never would've attended one as he wasn't the father. Mythal had even given birth twice while he served as her general, but he'd never even held the babes, let alone tried to comfort her during labor. What was he supposed to do?

He hurried to set the gifts he'd brought down on a nearby dresser and moved to the opposite side of the bed from where the women were at work, sliding over the bedspread as subtly as possible to avoid disturbing Ellana. She didn't seem to notice him, continuing to shudder as pain wracked her. He noted that she no longer wore her armor at all but instead was dressed in a pale nightgown that clung loosely on her frame.

He caught Ashani's eye and asked quietly, "How is she?"

"Exhausted," she answered with a small smile. "But she's strong and the little one is robust. We've given her an infusion of herbs to sedate her so she can get some rest."

Solas winced. "She can sleep through this?" He laid a palm over her back and called on his mana, willing it to ease some of her pain.

Ellana shuddered, mumbling something that might've been gratitude. Her eyelids fluttered and her muscles relaxed once more as the contraction passed.

Ashani chuckled quietly, her gaze tender as she looked back to Ellana and began stroking her forehead again. "It's not good sleep, but it's rest. The labor is stalling. That can happen when the mother is too stressed. Rinaya and I will give her a few hours of rest and then dose her with snakeroot and papoose root."

Frowning, Solas searched his memory, trying to place the herbs and failing. Their names had either changed over time or they were restricted to use with pregnancy or other female ailments. Despite not knowing the herbs in question, he could easily guess their intent. "To speed the labor?" he asked.

Ashani nodded. "Works like a charm."

Drawing in a deep breath, Solas asked, "How long?"

Though he'd tried to keep his voice even and unaffected, something in his expression must've given away his urgency because both Ashani and Rinaya shot him confused looks. Ashani said, "Babies come on their own schedules, hahren. That is just the way of things."

"Has something happened?" Rinaya asked, setting the drink she'd mixed onto the nightstand beside Ellana's mother.

Solas closed his eyes, trying to fight away the icy lump in the pit of his stomach. "Scouts report a force of one hundred men camped about half a day's ride outside the city. I suspect they are the vanguard of a larger force."

"We can fight a hundred," Rinaya murmured, her voice tight and cautious. The light from the candles lit her face harshly, half in shadow and half in orange-yellow.

"Yes," he agreed wearily, shoulders slumping. "But there may be several thousand behind them. We can never fight so many without the Fade." He stared at Ellana, seeing the too-rapid rise and fall of her chest and the sweat lining her brow.

"Tomorrow," Ashani answered. "My guess is your child will be born tomorrow."

Solas scowled and shook his head. "Yes, of course—right as I am needed elsewhere."

"It could be sooner," Ashani said, her tone one that was clearly trying to console him with a reassuring smile.

"I hope it is," Rinaya put in. "For all our sakes."

By dawn Ellana was on her feet, pacing the room and panting with one arm over her mother and the other around Solas' shoulders. He had to stoop to be on a more even level with the two women but made no complaints as they walked in a continuous circuit around the room. The walking had been her mother's idea while Rinaya laid out linens and then scrambled to haul water in for a bath. Sera reappeared to help as well, looking bleary eyed and sleepy.

While they walked Solas explained the report of the advance force, mounted and likely on its way even that very moment. Ellana spat curses before halting to tense up and puff her way through another contraction. When it finally passed, leaving her sweaty and shaky, she cursed again. "Fenedhis. Creators dammit."

She didn't miss the slight look Solas gave her at the oath and it incensed her, boiling her blood at once. "What? You can rail against me about how there are no creators and they were just miserable sods like all the rest of us but—shit…" She gasped. "Another one? Already? Andraste's flaming—argh…"

"Andraste's flaming knickers," Sera finished for her sniggering as she walked by with a bucket of steaming water in her arms. "That's a good one, yeah?"

"Let it all out, ma ashalan," her mother encouraged. "But remember to breathe."

Groaning as the contraction eased, Ellana shot a glare at her mother. "What in the great beyond was in that damned tea you gave me?"

"You gave her the snakeroot and papoose?" Solas asked, eyebrows raised with surprise.

"What?" Ellana asked, baring her teeth. "Isn't papoose a laxative?"

"Actually I didn't give you anything, Lana," she said with a small smirk. "I was going to, but things are picking up nicely now so there's no need."

"If it will make this go faster—give me the fucking tea," Ellana snarled as they started walking again in their circuit around the room. "I don't have any bloody time for this."

"Spending all that time around humans has made you swear like one of them," Rinaya said as she passed by, also carrying a steaming bucket of water. She crossed paths with Sera as the archer emerged with her now empty bucket and trotted back out the door.

"Shut up," Ellana snapped, head spinning. Her knees were quaking, forcing her to grip even harder on the two people supporting her. "Shit. Dammit. Why does my back hurt so much?"

"What were you going to name my grandchild?" her mother asked, crooning in an upbeat singsong voice. "I've heard you think it's going to be a boy."

"I don't know, mamae, I'll worry about naming him when Divine Victoria isn't trying to raze Halamshiral," she grumbled breathlessly. Her next step faltered as she felt another contraction starting. "Fenedhis lasa," she spat, panting and crunching up as the pain struck in a blinding wave. This time the urge to push hit her and she whimpered, resisting as her mother had warned her.

As she swam out of the pain again she heard Solas calling to her, "Vhenan? Are you all right?" He was pallid on her left, dark bags beneath his gray-blue eyes. Irrational anger made her seethe, gnashing her teeth.

"Fen'Harel's balls," she cursed and grinned as he flinched. "This is all your fault, you know." Her mouth and throat were dry, lungs heaving as she struggled to breathe around the enormous pressure of her distended belly. And it was all his fault.

"Now we're making real progress," her mother said, laughing. "She's reached the 'irrationally-angry-with-the-child's-father' phase of labor. Don't mind her, hahren."

"Feels like I need to push," she told her mother, still panting. She dragged her feet as they started up the circuit again. "Please say I can push, mamae."

"I'll need to check, but almost certainly not. You still have hours left yet," her mother said with a sympathetic sigh.

"Fuck," she cursed, blustering as her head hung and her stomach roiled. "I feel sick. I might retch."

"I'm glad I didn't give you the tea then," her mother commented with a humming sound. "It sounds as though you're progressing very nicely now. But still, no pushing until I say so."

"Please?" Ellana begged, ready to sob. Her eyes burned and her head seemed swollen. She was about to plead further when another pain seized her and she crunched up as the urge to push smashed into her yet again. Her knees shook, trying to drop her into a squat. She felt the cool touch of Solas' magic on her belly, helping reduce the agony and as she groaned with even the slight relief she decided she could still love him despite what he'd done to her—bringing her to this current state of being as a virtual whale in unending cramping agony with no end in sight.

"Thank you," she panted. "Emma lath." She squeezed his shoulder and tried to smile at him, but her cheek muscles were too exhausted, heavy and twitching like every other part of her.

"It is the least I can do," he murmured, his eyes crinkling with sympathy.

"Yes," she agreed. "Since this is your fault."

"You've said that already, ma ashalan," her mother chided with a cluck of her tongue. "Turn your ire elsewhere and give hahren a break." She motioned with her free hand toward the bed, indicating Solas should help her walk Ellana that way, breaking the circuit.

Anticipating what was about to happen, Ellana groaned. "Why don't I go take a bath instead?"

"Suledin, ma ashalan," her mother said in her soothing voice, hushing her. "This will be over before you know it and then you will have your precious little one."

Ellana's complaints died on her tongue as she let herself consider the baby and felt something other than pain stir—an anxious, anticipatory excitement bubbling through her chest. "Sylvun," she told her mother as they led her to the bed and helped her sit. "That was what we were going to call him."

"And if it's not a him?" her mother asked as she knelt in front of Ellana, pressing forward to probe between her legs.

Ellana hissed with pain, feeling Solas' hot hand on her shoulder squeezing. She fumbled for his hand, returning the squeeze and answering her mother's question in a strained voice. "Renan."

"And where did you come up with those names?" her mother asked, withdrawing her hand and standing upright, a wide smile over her lips.

"They were my parents' names," Solas answered for her.

Ellana's mother looked at him, cocking her head with interest. "Forgive me," she said, "I never considered…"

"That I had parents?" Solas asked and chuckled. "They did not live on in myth as I did, but yes, I was not born of Fade ether."

She nodded, the bright smile reappearing. "Well, those are very good names. And, even better, you're going to need them sooner rather than later." Her hazel eyes locked onto Ellana as she beamed. "You're almost there. I'd say after the bath you may be ready to push."

"Andraste's tits," Ellana snarled and then gasped, clutching at her belly as yet another contraction hit her. She panted, huffing rapidly as the urge to push made her crunch up again as well. When it was over she let out a long breath and added another oath for good measure. "Elgar'nan's thrice-damned hairy ass."

Solas snorted. "Vhenan…"

"What?" she snapped, glaring. Then she transitioned the venomous look to her mother. "That was not good news just now. You should give me the tea so we can—" She gasped, breaking off and closing her eyes as the pain in her back intensified. "Ow." She rubbed her face, groaning. "Just…let me into that damned tub."

As they hauled her upright, Ellana groaned, sagging with exhaustion and shaking, coated with sweat all over. "I'm not sure I can do this, mamae," she said, losing some of her vigor as the ache in her back continued.

"You'll find the strength," her mother crooned. "Suledin, ma ashalan."

Next Chapter (modified to be gender-neutral for spoiler protection…):

Her mother held the baby, tapping at its back, her face set in a look of fierce concentration. The baby made a weak noise, almost a sort of sneeze, then it began to kick and squirm as it let out a louder, lusty cry. Ellana's mother laughed with joy as she turned the baby over and Ellana was able to see its tiny face for the first time. Scrunched and red from birth, still slicked with fluids, it had a full head of dark hair and long, narrow ears with proud points.

"The baby has your ears, hahren," Rinaya said, laughing. "But where did that hair come from?"