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At last their peaceful moment of reconciliation had to come to an end—the cares of the Inquisition called to Bridget. She couldn't put them off any longer, especially not now, when time was suddenly of the essence.

"We need to talk. About this, and you, and what to do going forward," Thom told her as they found their scattered clothing and got dressed again.

"Nothing can change. Whatever the risks, my duty to the world, to end the threat Corypheus poses, is paramount. But I can change certain things—the way I fight, the way my armor is built, how I'm protected. The Iron Bull told me he could show me some new stances." She stopped short at the sudden darkening of Thom's face.

"You told the Iron Bull before you told me?"

"No. He told me. Qunari spy, remember? He's very good at his job. It appears that he and Leliana knew about our little … complication even before I did." She cast a glance at him. "I was a bit distracted. I did talk to Dagna and Harritt about it before I told you, though. They're already working on new armor, and Dagna got all excited about runes and things."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—I know it can't have been easy for you, and I—"

Bridget held up a hand. "Stop. No more apologies. I know why you did what you did, you know why I did what I did, and we're together now. There's just no time to keep dwelling on what's already happened. There's too much to do."

"Yes. Yes, there is. I'm—" He caught himself before he could apologize again. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Good." She nodded crisply. "I'm going to talk to Solas. If anyone knows about the Breach and the Anchor and what—what the effect could be on the baby, he will."

"And I will attempt to mend fences with the rest of the Inquisition. Unless you'd prefer to have me return to the scullery?"

"If they were expecting you, then you should finish off any tasks left undone, but otherwise, I need you back in fighting shape. We'll need to leave Skyhold within the next couple of days—much remains to be done."

"Very well." But he couldn't leave without touching her once more, just to be certain she was real. "Bridget. My lady."

She came willingly into his arms, lifting her face for a soft, sweet kiss. Smiling, she pulled herself away before it could become anything more. "Later," she promised.

"I look forward to it." Reluctantly, he let her go.

Skyhold looked new this morning. Or perhaps Rainier was looking at it with new eyes. The events of last night and this morning had him feeling raw and shaken and … reborn, in an odd way. He accepted the sour and suspicious and downright hostile looks from the rest of the Inquisition with more grace than he had yesterday. In their place, he would have looked at himself the same way. He understood now that he had to earn back that trust—and, more, that it was worth the effort of earning. After half a lifetime of hiding, enumerating his wrongs to himself over and over again, he was ready to be part of something again.

As he stood on the landing, watching the bustle of Skyhold all around him, he felt the presence of the Qunari at his side, marveling as he often did at how such a large man could move so quietly when he wished to. "So," the Iron Bull said. "I take it she told you."

"Yes. I … it's a lot to take in."

"I imagine so."

"You ever find yourself in this predicament?"

The Qunari laughed. "No, we're very careful about that. No little half-horned urchins running around. We don't even raise our own children—they're raised by tamassrans, in cohorts by age and skill—so I wouldn't know what to do in your shoes."

"Nor do I. I never imagined this particular event."

"First thing's first—let's get this Corypheus asshole out of the way."

"Agreed." Rainier nodded sharply. "I could use the chance to get back in shape, if you're up for a sparring match."

The Iron Bull grinned widely. "My favorite thing. Let's do it."

Together they headed for the training ring. Rainier wasn't certain he trusted the Qunari—but there was something to be said for his uncomplicated way of thinking. Whatever he might have felt about Rainier and his life choices, those thoughts were pushed aside in favor of the greater needs of the current situation. Now, if only the rest of Skyhold could be brought around to that mindset, Rainier thought with a sigh as he passed two soldiers who ostentatiously turned their backs on him.

Time would tell, he supposed.

Bridget made her way into the atrium where Solas liked to spend his time. As always, he appeared suddenly, as if he was walking out of the walls. But she was used to it now and no longer jumped when suddenly he was standing next to her. "Solas, if you have some time, I have a rather … delicate subject I need to ask you about."

"Yes. I hoped you would come speak to me."

She winced. "You knew, too?"

He shrugged. "Mages can sense the lives about them. You know this."

Bridget felt a chill. She didn't like the idea that every mage in Skyhold might already know about her condition.

"It is early yet—likely only those who have been in close proximity to you recently have sensed it," Solas assured her. "Still, I would not wait long before I made the announcement to Skyhold. It seems to me as if it would be better to be the one to make the story public before rumors spread … although undoubtedly Josephine would be the best choice to advise you on that front."

"Yes, I'll have to speak with her soon." Bridget sighed. Delighted as she was by the pregnancy, the immediate consequence was a great deal of new problems added to her work load. "But first …" She held up her marked hand. "Will this harm the baby? Or closing rifts?"

"No. There is nothing in that magic that should affect the rest of your body."

"And Corypheus? When I fight him?"

"There is danger whenever you fight, Inquisitor. But you knew that already. And you cannot choose to stop."

"No. I—it terrifies me, to think I might lose this chance at motherhood, but … this is mine to do. I must finish it. What do you think Corypheus will do now?"

Solas frowned, thinking it through. "He has lost his army, and he has lost Orlais. That eliminates military or political means to rebuild Tevinter. He will be angry—he will want to demonstrate that no one in this world can stand against his magic. It will not be subtle."

"I imagine it won't. Part of me wishes he would hurry up so we could finish this, but the rest of me is well aware that we are not ready."

"If I were you, Inquisitor, I would get ready, and quickly. We cannot predict when he will force our hand."

"No. No, we can't. Solas, what do Dalish women do about fighting when they are—in my condition? I've heard tales that their magic is different from what we learned in the Circle. Perhaps there is something applicable there."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise at the question. "I would not know."

"But … I'm sorry, I just assumed …"

"I am not Dalish. Still, I believe I can answer your question to some extent. Magic is magic, Bridget, just as water is water … but it can be used in different ways. Dalish magic tends to be more practical than Chantry magic, because it must be. Although they still frown on blood magic. Superstition," he added dismissively. "Much of their magic is more … subtle, a legacy from when elves were immortal."

"Did the ancient elves use magic to increase their lifespan?"

He shook his head. "No, it was simply part of being elven. The subtle beauty of their magic was the effect, not the cause, of their nature."

"That is interesting, but not particularly applicable to my situation."

"I'm afraid I cannot be much help there. Perhaps someone in the Inquisition has more knowledge than I."

"What about city elves?"

Solas smiled. "So if I am not Dalish, I must be a city elf?"

"It seems most elves are one or the other."

"Most, but not all." He sighed unhappily. "I fear that the culture of city elves is more akin to that of any other impoverished and powerless population than to anything that might come from their elven nature. Oh, they cling to memories of a better past and practice a few rituals to distinguish themselves from humans, but with every year that passes they grow further from where they began."

"I hope somehow we can make life better for them."

"Stop Corypheus. That will do for a start." As if regretting the sharpness of his tone, he looked kindly at Bridget and nodded. "It speaks well of you to feel for the oppressed. Help them for that. Know them for what they are … instead of just seeing a pair of pointed ears." He looked at her abdomen, then delicately away. "That someone like you might learn to see beyond the trappings of physical appearance to what is truly inside … it gives me hope that the future might be—different than I imagined." Abruptly, he turned away. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Of course." Bridget saw herself out of the atrium, feeling vaguely disquieted by the end of the conversation, although she could not have pointed to what exactly concerned her.

Still, there was much to be done, no time to dwell on the vagaries of her companions' moods. She made a mental note to check in with Solas again soon, to be sure there was nothing bothering him. For the moment, she needed to speak with Josephine.