Okay, welcome all. I hope you're enjoying yourselves so far.

Happy reading!

~Garnet

Hightown

Hightown was far more beautiful than Sara expected as she traveled through Kirkwall. The buildings were compact with intricate stonework and there was a fountain or garden on nearly every corner. Varric educated her on the constant efforts to improve the entire city, but since most upper class people lived in Hightown, that section of Kirkwall saw the most improvements.

"The docks have really turned around and things are almost back to normal," Varric said, his grin wide and proud. "In a few days, I'll take you around Lowtown so you can get your bearings."

"You've already done so much for me, Varric," Sara murmured gratefully. "You don't have to be my tour guide."

"Nonsense. No one knows Kirkwall better than me. Except perhaps Hawke. When he returns from Weisshaupt, he's agreed to help you become acclimated to the city as well." Sara nodded enthusiastically and her stomach flipped as the carriage slowed to a stop. At the end of a polished cul-de-sac was a large manse hidden behind iron walls lined with vines of moonflower and wisteria.

The building was made of similar stone as the rest of the buildings in Hightown, though the shade from the trees in the front garden made it seem dark, gloomy and unapproachable. The entry path had been cleared of fallen leaves and the garden was relatively manicured. Varric swung the doors to the manse open with a flourish and Sara was nearly taken aback.

The main hall was brighter than it had any reason to be, considering the outside of the manse. Varric led her toward the back of the house where there was large dining hall with the first of several grand fireplaces and kitchen with a full pantry and wine cellar. Across the hall was a library that had a second story for reaching the higher bookshelves. Off the library was a cozy drawing room.

In the main hall, a pair of winding stair cases led to many of the guest rooms, of which there were six, the second floor of the library and another staircase leading to the master suite. Climbing on final flight of stairs, they paced around the opulent suite. The room was multi-tiered with a solar, actual separate room for her bed, a boudoir for her clothing and a lavatory with a large round tub in the center of the room.

"We'll take a look at furnishing today and also tomorrow if you want," Varric murmured as they circled the back garden lazily. "Until everything's ready, you can stay with me, of course."

"This is almost too much, Varric," Sara replied with a small laugh.

"Hey, if killing ultimate evil, ending the Orlesian civil war and closing dozens of tears in the sky doesn't at least get you a manse, I don't know what would," he joked.

Ultimately, she spent her first week in Kirkwall at the Viscount's Keep, as she did menial tasks such as picking out furniture and decor for her new home. Towards the end of the week, she found a small staff of six people to work in her house, including a cook, housekeeper, butler and three chambermaids. She also found a seamstress to rebuild her wardrobe; Sara was sure that Vivienne would be horrified by the simplicity of the clothing she ordered.

After a couple days, the manse was livable and Sara began sleeping there, even though it didn't quite feel like home. It was too big and she was lonelier than she thought she'd be. At night, when the manse was empty except for her, thoughts clawed at her mind almost until sunrise. One morning, she had her butler write to Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine and Dorian, assuring them that she had arrived in Kirkwall and was comfortable. She walked to the postage tower in Lowtown on her own and only got lost twice before finding her way back to the docks, which was along a direct path right to her home.

While she was in Lowtown, she visited the alienage there. To her surprise, she was instantly recognized and a group of children and young women surrounded her, asking to speak with her, requesting her blessing and kissing her fingers. It was almost overwhelming, but humbling as well.

She fed as many people as she could with the money she had with her, bought handmade embroidered muslin from a mother of six and made an offering to their vhenadahl; the next morning, a cart of fruit and bread was brought the alienage and Sara helped see that everyone got what they needed.

Sara considered her efforts in the alienage harmless, and she was surprised when she received a visit from an uncomfortable Varric.

"Well, shit," he murmured as introduction.

"Should I sit down for this?" Sara chuckled lightly and served them both tea.

"I mean, it's not bad news, exactly." Varric took a sip of tea and pulled a folded piece of paper from his lapel. "A friend of mine wants to meet you. I've told you about Merrill, right?"

Sara nodded into her cup. "Yes, of course." Merrill was a Dalish woman that worked closely with Varric and Hawke during the Battle of Kirkwall before the Mage-Templar War and the focus of several of Varric's tales.

"She and a few other elves would like to meet you to discuss your, um, philanthropic efforts lately." Sara smiled with relief. Why on earth would he be nervous about telling her that?

"I would love to meet them, Varric," she replied eagerly but he sighed and finished his tea quietly.

"Alright. Come by my place tomorrow. I'll host you."

The next morning was slightly gloomy with an impending storm and it seemed like just as Sara arrived at Varric's, rain began to lightly fall. She was escorted into the parlour where Varric was sitting at a round table with four other people. The energy in the room was instantly tense as Sara took the final open seat.

"Since we're all here, I'll do the introductions." Varric cleared his throat and pointed to Sara. "This is Sara Lavellan, Comtesse of Kirkwall. Sara," Varric motioned to the woman to his right. She was fair with dark brown hair and olive green eyes and a firm disposition. "This is Merrill, who requested this meeting." Merrill gave Sara a curt nod. Beside her was an older woman, with wavy white hair and hazel eyes. "And this is Reeba. The Hahren of Kirkwall's alienage." On Varric's left was another woman, young and garbed in armor with short auburn hair. "And Devela. She's been physically protecting the alienage for a few years now." Finally, beside Sara was a middle-aged man who had dark, distant eyes. "Meet Galen. He's the alienage's teacher. He keeps an eye on most of the mage children."

Sara looked them all over once. They did not seem especially welcoming. "It's a pleasure to meet all of you," Sara said formally.

Devela's eyes snapped up to her. "It's a shame we haven't met sooner, considering..."

"Considering what?" Sara asked, her voice tempered with slightly forced patience.

"Considering," Galen interceded, "your interest in our alienage and people."

"Is my interest confusing to you?" Sara glanced at each of them pointedly. "I would like to know if I've done anything to offend anyone here."

"Our efforts in improving the lives of elves in this city have taken years of work, Comtesse," Merrill stated calmly. "We would simply like to be sure that our intentions align."

"And," Reeba interrupted bluntly, "we'd like to clarify that we are not willing to let you come in an take control over people you know nothing about."

"'Take over people'?" Sara felt her cheeks flush with sudden anger and her stomach began to flip. "That isn't my intention."

"Then why wouldn't you come to us about your intentions?" Galen looked Sara over condescendingly.

"I only wished to help," she replied.

"Do you think you speak for all elves?" Devela asked so brazenly, Sara's mouth dropped open in alarm.

"Of course not." Sara's tone was colder than she intended and it completely worked against her.

"Are you sure? Isn't that what the Dalish do? Speak for all elves?" The smirk on Devela's face was so satisfied it was painful.

"That's enough," Merrill murmured. "We're not here to insult her."

"You must understand our apprehension, Comtesse," Galen said. "From what we know of you, anywhere the Lady Inquisitor walked bent to her will. We do not intend on having our efforts ignored because of you."

Sara could hardly hold back a bark of humorless laughter. "This is about glory? You want the credit for who helped the elves in Kirkwall more than you want actual progress." The churning in Sara's stomach rapidly became painful but she was too enraged to excuse herself. "It's frivolous things like this that keep us from improving the lives of our people."

"Please, can we all calm down?" Merrill looked completely disillusioned. "We all have the same goals here."

Sara stood, needed time to collect her thoughts before this dissolved into petty arguments. "I'm not sure we do, Merrill. If you would, please pardon me." She looked at Varric. "Where is the lavatory?"

He pointed to a door behind her, his fingers massaging his temples. "Straight down the hall to the left."

She strode from the room, wondering if she should even return. Sara couldn't fathom why they wouldn't trust her. Everything she did during her time with the Inquisition was done to improve the lives of every person in Thedas, whether they were elven or human or qunari, it didn't matter to her. How they could take her decisions and twist them to seem self-serving was beyond her. It was completely frustrating. But is that what she was to people that didn't know her: an opportunist only looking out for her own interests? It would almost break her heart if it wasn't so ridiculous.

When she reached the lavatory, she retched and immediately began to sob. Her own body couldn't control itself anymore. She had no more control over her destiny and it was nearly crippling. I'm exhausted, she thought bitterly. Perhaps I should go to the manse and sit and become an old, grey spinster. But no. Doing that was equivalent to simply dying and there was so much she needed to do.

Stop Solas, she reminded herself. Whatever it takes. Somehow. After that...

She could look forward to the future. Everything she did until then would simply be a productive distraction. If the elven leaders of Kirkwall wanted her compliance, she would give it to them as long as the people in the alienage were being fed and leading better lives.

Sara rinsed her mouth and walked back to the parlour with a factitious smile that would have made Vivienne glow with pride. "I hope you'll all excuse my outburst from earlier. I was only wish to help, of course. Please, tell me what you'd like me to do."

Their meeting was much more productive after that, and Reeba, Galen and Devela left their talks with gratified smiles. Merrill, however, lingered and placed a warm hand on Sara's shoulder. "A truly apologize for them, Comtesse. They mean well."

"Thank you," Sara replied softly. "And please, there's no need to use titles with me."

"Like most elves, they mistrust outsiders and will need time to grow accustomed to you. Please be patient with them." Merrill took her leave after a brief farewell to Varric.

"You were surprisingly quiet today, Varric," Sara muttered wryly.

"Look, I was a little afraid of all of you, to be honest. I knew they were all pretty strong personalities but I didn't think that you'd all start trading insults." Varric shook his head with a sigh. "I don't know, Sara. Do you want to go find some demons to kill? That seems way easier than doing this whole... diplomacy... thing..."

"If I had my arm, I'd be on the next ship to Rivain. I'm sure Bull could use some help taking down dragons," she replied, the laugh feeling overwhelmingly pleasing.

Varric looked at the space where her arm once was with keen scrutiny. "I wonder..."

"What is it, Varric?"

"Nothing," he murmured and looked back up at her face. "Are you all right, by the way? When you left during the meeting you looked a little pale. I wasn't sure if it was because of the insults or something else."

"Oh. I'm fine, thank you. I was a bit nauseous, but I think I was just upset," Sara explained, though she was still slightly nauseated and didn't want him to worry.

Over the course of her first month in Kirkwall, Sara quietly cooperated with Merrill and the others in improving the alienage. While the others kept their distance from her, Merrill became a helpful companion. They easily connected over their Dalish roots, though Merrill left her clan over disagreements in ideology. Sara would likely have returned to her own clan with similar issues, but they were killed before she could ever reconnect with them. Merrill was incredibly sympathetic and hoped to take her charitable works to other alienages in the Free Marches once she was content with things in Kirkwall.

When she wasn't working in the alienage, Sara attended community meetings hosted by Varric and assisted as best she could. The nobility of Kirkwall looked at her with either subtle interest or sly suspicion. She expected that, of course, but it was completely different than her experiences in Skyhold, likely because the people in Kirkwall had no reason to trust her and didn't care for her opinion on their city.

The pressure made her wake every morning with a bought of nausea. When she was on the ship to the Free Marches, she assumed that her discomfort was simple seasickness, but it hadn't ended when she arrived and still, over a moth later, bothered her daily. Varric noticed and mentioned how pale she looked whenever they were together, but Sara knew something was amiss when even Merrill told her that she looked ill.

The morning Sara decided to see a doctor, she gazed at herself in the mirror in her boudoir. She did look quite pale. Her usually imperceptible freckles were very pronounced and her eyes were sunken, with dark circles under them. She'd had trouble sleeping and despite the nausea ending after a few hours, a headache would soon follow and persist throughout the day. Her body looked gaunt and unhealthy, even though she didn't feel weak.

She visited a very popular doctor in Hightown. While he was kind and knowledgeable, he didn't find anything wrong with her and only recommended rest and a bitter root tea, to curb the nausea. The tea did help at first, though she still felt strange, so a few days later, she went to the elven healer in the alienage.

The infirmary was spacious and comfortable, with dozens of jars of dried herbs like Elfroot, Embrium, Felandaris, and Spindleweed lining the walls and a few bedrolls laid out in the back of the room. The healer was an older woman, her hair white and braided in two long braids that she pinned to the nape of her neck. Her eyes were bright, friendly and surrounded by deep laugh lines and she seemed prone to smiles. When Sara entered, the healer greeted her with a motherly embrace.

"Welcome, child. I am so proud to finally meet you," she crooned, tightening her arms around Sara. "I am Talma."

"I'm glad to meet you, hahren," Sara murmured respectfully. "Call me 'Sara'."

"Please sit." Talma led her to a pair of chairs beside her desk covered with books and empty medicine bottles. "What can I do for you?"

"I haven't been feeling well. My stomach's been bothering me and I've had constant headaches," Sara explained.

"Oh, well that's simple enough. A draught for pain will take care of that." Talma wrote out a label and stood to take dried herbs from the jars on the walls. She put a pot of water in the hearth and leaned against the wall with a sigh. "How long have you been feeling this way, child?"

"Well it started when I was on the ship here, so perhaps six weeks at the most." Sara watched Talma sprinkle the herbs in with the water and stir slowly before removing the pot from the fire and covering it with a lid.

"If you don't mind my asking, when was your last cycle?"

The question took Sara by surprise. It hadn't been too long ago... She didn't have one in Kirkwall yet, or on the journey here... In fact, her last cycle had ended a few days before she left Skyhold...

Oh. No... Sara felt her blood run cold. "It has been a long time," she finally replied, her tongue barely able to move. I can't actually be pregnant, she told herself firmly. How could she? She hadn't been with anyone since Solas and that was over two years ago.

Her mind betrayed her with more recent memories, however, and Sara was thrown back to the dew covered field in the Fade, the last time they were together. When he covered her body with kisses that took the air from her lungs and filled her with pleasure that made their parting excruciating.

But that wasn't real, she insisted to herself. She'd said that before, though, the first time she entered the Fade with him. He claimed that the reality or lack of reality in dreams was a matter of debate. Could it be that he was that powerful? That what happened between their essences in a dream would create actual consequences in the waking world?

Talma approached her and gently cupped her face, feeling for abnormal warmth. She felt around the sides of her neck and up to her forehead and finally, down to her lower abdomen.

"How long has it been, child?" Talma asked again, her voice distant and distracted.

"Almost two months in the next week or so," Sara replied.

"Is it possible that you are expecting?"

No, Sara thought at once, but part of her knew. Part of her had likely always known. She felt her hand shaking and the space at the end of her left arm began to slightly burn. As much as she wanted to deny that what occurred in the Fade was real, she knew it was pointless. Had she never spent that night with Solas, this wouldn't be happening. But is it possible? she asked herself.

"Yes," Sara murmured, her voice nearly breaking. "It is possible."

Elven Phrases

Vhenadahl: The tree of the people

(Thanks to Project Elvhen by FenxShiral for the vocabulary)

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