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Bridget hastily made excuses to Cassandra. She had to get away to think about this revelation. Never had her quarters seemed so far away; never had so many people wanted to talk to her on her way through the keep. She hoped whatever she told them made sense, because she was saying whatever she needed to say to end each conversation and get past the person in question.

At last she was alone, the doors between herself and the rest of Skyhold firmly closed and locked, and there was nothing but the sound of the wind to distract her.

Pregnant. She should have known. Now that she had realized the truth she could feel the tightness in her stomach muscles, the soreness in her breasts, the lingering fatigue, on top of the nausea. If it hadn't been for the distraction of everything with Blackwall, she probably would have known sooner. How long? She had only missed one set of courses, she was sure of that, so less than two months. That gave her … Bridget sank down onto the couch, doing the math in her head. She had run late with Declan, she might again. So maybe seven months to defeat Corypheus before the baby was born?

Could she even continue fighting while pregnant? Should she?

Well, that one was a given. As much as she owed the new life inside her, she had a responsibility to the Inquisition, and to all of Thedas. Corypheus must be defeated or no one would ever bear a child again. So she had to keep fighting. And she had to win.

She should go to Harritt, for better armor. And Dagna, for a rune of some kind that would offer special protection. Perhaps she should talk to Solas about the Anchor. It was elven, after all, and likely he would know more than anyone else if it would affect the child.

But of course, she could do none of that. Because the first person she had to tell was Blackwall, and how could she do that? He wasn't even the same man anymore. The father of her child had been a Grey Warden named Blackwall, and now he was an Orlesian captain named Thom Rainier.

Tears gathered in her eyes as she thought of how this might have gone, before. How she would have told him, how he would have laughed and swung her around and shared in the joy of this moment with her. Because it was joy that she felt, over and above all the worries and everything else. She was the Inquisitor now. She had power. No one could ever take this child from her, never, never, never. Bridget clutched the locket at her neck. Declan wasn't hers any longer, but this baby growing inside her now, this one belonged to her and always would, no matter what happened.

She lifted her feet onto the couch, laying her head on the soft pillow. Her other hand stole across her stomach. She hadn't shown with Declan for some time, but then, mage robes were practically made for hiding a pregnancy. These tailored clothes she wore as Inquisitor left very little options for concealment. And she would need to conceal this for just a little while, just until she could figure out how to tell Blackwall about their baby.

Their baby. She smiled sleepily, closing her eyes. A pregnant Inquisitor. Wouldn't Josephine just be beside herself?

She slept.

When she woke, the sunshine outside had dimmed to shadow, the voices in the courtyard and the ring of metal on metal from the training ground gone. Everyone must be at dinner, she imagined. As if on cue, her stomach growled. It was lovely to be hungry for a change—better grab some food while that lasted.

In the keep, she filled a plate, finding a spot at a table with Dorian, Varric, Cassandra, and the Iron Bull. Disconcertingly, she kept looking up to find the Iron Bull's eye on her, thoughtfully. She was still not entirely comfortable with him, or sure that she trusted him, and his scrutiny made her flush uncomfortably.

She was due in the War Room for a meeting with the advisors. They set up her next journey—into Ferelden to investigate the red lyirum in the Deep Roads. Both Cullen and Josephine kept giving her sympathetic glances and then turning away when she met their eyes, no doubt thinking about Rainier's anger at the judgment and the evident break between them. Leliana's gaze was more thoughtful than anything. Bridget imagined the spymaster was wondering how she would handle Rainier being in Skyhold if she couldn't be with him. In truth, Bridget was wondering that herself.

After the meeting, she was on her way to tell Cassandra to be ready to go tomorrow when she ran into the Iron Bull in the courtyard.

"Boss, you mind if I talk to you?"

"Sure, Bull." Curious, she followed him toward the door of the tavern.

"I hear you're setting out for Ferelden tomorrow."

"Yes." That was no secret. If only Varric's friend's information was accurate, if they could cut off Corypheus's red lyrium supply …

The Iron Bull broke into her thoughts. "I know you're set on taking Cass, but I'd like to request that you take me instead."

Bridget frowned at him. "Any particular reason?"

"Because you're going to need training in a new style of defense." He looked pointedly at her midsection. "And the sooner, the better."

Did he know? How could he know? Straightening, she said coolly, "I don't know what you mean."

"Yeah, you do. Look, I know what you're thinking—how do I know? I'm a spy, remember? Trained to study the details of people's habits. The way they look, the way they walk, the way their thoughts show on their face …" There was kindness in that single grey eye as he looked at her. "You tell him yet?"

She didn't know how to answer that, so she didn't try.

"Not so easy right now, I guess. Boss, I know you don't entirely trust me, and that's fair. You shouldn't. But about this I'm completely serious—as long as I have anything to say about it, no harm's going to come to you."

Bridget looked him in the eye and decided that he was right—she would need help altering her fighting style—and that she would trust him, at least this far. "All right, Bull. We leave first thing in the morning."

The Iron Bull grinned. "Great! Your secret's safe with me, by the way. I bet there's only one other person in Skyhold who has any clue at all." He looked over her head at the rookery, and Bridget sighed. Of course he was right—Leliana had probably known before she had. No doubt that was what those searching looks in the meeting had been about. She sighed. She'd have to deal with that sooner or later, but in truth, she'd prefer it be later.

"Thanks, Bull."

"Anytime, boss."

Bridget paused in the middle of the courtyard, looking longingly down across Skyhold at the barn, where she could see the flickering light of a lantern through the open doors. Blackwall—Rainier was awake, then. She wanted to go down there, to see him, and she spent a moment imagining that maybe he had softened toward her, maybe he was ready to talk, to … to forgive.

But he wasn't. Not this soon. And she didn't dare approach him right now—her secret would show itself on her face, she was sure. Much as she wanted to tell him, it would break her heart if he sneered at her or—or wasn't happy about the baby. She would tell him soon, but she had to have more time to get used to it first, more time to steel herself against a range of his possible reactions.

Sighing, she turned toward the keep, instead.