Fic - A Child Unexpected (Part 5)
Title: A Child Unexpected (Part 5 of 12)
Author: skybound2
Characters: Fem!City-Elf PC (Kallian Tabris), Sten, Zevran, and Alistair (the overall fic is Zevran/Tabris with Sten and some others tossed in. Liberally, at times. References Alistair/Tabris and Zevran/Other.)
Word Count: ~3700 (this chapter; ~15700 so far)
Rating: T
Summary: Heroes have problems too. That's why they need friends. In this bit: The Warden has visitors. Plural.
Spoilers: Through end game.
Author's Note: Posting this a bit sooner than usual, as I'm not sure when the next update will be. (Hopefully next week, but I have a ficathon entry I need to focus on, so we shall see!) This story can also be found at FFN. Many, many thanks to pennydreadful for the beta!!!
Previously:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Interlude (the First)
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Seheron: Twenty-two Months after the Fall of the Archdemon
Sten had only remained in the little apartment they had first moved into for a short time following the birth. Claiming that there was not enough room, he had returned to the barracks. It had been...quieter without him around. True, he never spoke much to begin with, and now there was an infant whose cries could pierce through the heaviest dragonbone plate; but the quiet was more a sense of absence. She missed knowing that he was only a room away, should she have need.
Even so, she suspected that he spent more time at her and her daughter's home than anywhere else. He must have accepted this as well, since he never did remove the portrait of the goosegirl she had given him from its place above the table.
~~~\/~~~
Watching Sten handle an infant was...educational, to say the least. The first time he had 'held' her, he had kept her at arms length, looking at her as if she was some alien creature. A staring match had ensued (or as best of one as a newborn less than a day old could maintain), at the end of which, a crack in Sten's solid surface had appeared; some semblance of an understanding had obviously passed between the two.
When Adaia began to eat solid foods (or mushed foods, really - she had a particular fondness for boiled peas), Sten could be counted on to willingly feed the child, should Kallian be unavailable. He had even on occasion been willing to watch the babe while Kallian had run out to the markets.
This did not mean that he was willing to change any nappies, mind you. His opinion on that being 'a woman's job' was completely immobile. This fact was not surprising. What was surprising was how willing he was to take the often fussy child from her hands, and coax her back to sleep.
~~~\/~~~
She was regularly amazed by how small her daughter was; for nearly the whole first year of her life, Sten was practically able to hold the elven girl in only one of his hands.
Despite the excessive difference in size, he was gentle with Adaia. Patient. Often, she would catch her daughter, sitting up in her feeding chair, mesmerized. Sten would be seated there, repeating words in the qunari tongue over and over again to the babe (this included a liberal smattering of the word 'Sten', which the child had thus far managed to recreate in the form of 'Sven'); or even reciting the occasional passage of the Qun.
One of her last afternoons in his lands was one such time. “So, what exactly is it that you are currently teaching my daughter?”
“We were discussing the sixth covenant of the Qun.” He looked utterly at ease, sitting on the bench before the child, armor discarded in favor of more relaxed clothing, a bowl of porridge sitting on the tray between them.
She propped herself up against the counter, hands held loosely in front of her. All the time she'd spent talking with the Qun philosophers, and she never did quite manage to learn all of the passages. “Which is?”
Sten opened his mouth to answer (or make some wholly accurate remark regarding her memory, it was typically a toss up with him) only to be subverted by her daughter, who chose that moment to hurl a spoonful of mush at Sten's face. It was a testament to his affection for the girl that he only blinked. One violet eye poked out from the dripping porridge, as he quietly grabbed a towel to wipe himself clean. Her daughter giggled the entire time, a tiny fist bunched up by her mouth. Her mabari pounced on the drippings that slithered down the side of the chair and onto the floor, tiny stub of a tail wagging all the while.
A knock rumbled through the house, and Kallian struggled through her own laughter to undo the lock and open the heavily paneled door, revealing a wraith-thin and wiry elf on the other side. His face was sallow, and he looked as if he could use several decent meals; but his eyes were bright. She rarely saw anyone who wasn't qunari these days, so the sight was a welcome change. He had a large carryall sack thrown over one shoulder. A messenger then. Perhaps he was bringing word from Shianni, or her father. It had been some time since she had received any news from home.
She smiled widely and tucked a lock of fallen hair back behind her ear, “Yes, can I help you?”
“Are you the Warden Tabris?”
Her smile, along with her feelings of goodwill, dissolved abruptly, and she brought her body to attention. She stole a glimpse to the left and right outside her door, looking for any evidence of an ambush. Nothing was immediately visible, however the heavy shadows cast across the building from the mid-day sun left ample positions for someone lying in wait. Behind her, she heard the chair scrap the floor, and knew that Sten had moved to stand protectively in front of Adaia.
“Depends on who's asking.”
The man clipped his heels together, and presented her with a scroll. “You've been summoned to appear before the Warden's of Weisshaupt, ser.”
She relaxed marginally then, “Oh. This again. Here, give me the letter.” She scanned the contents: it was the same old drivel. “Hmm. I'm assuming that you can deliver a message back to them?”
The messenger appeared slightly regretful when he spoke, and he looked briefly to his left, “Actually, ser...It was made quite clear to me that a return reply is not permissible. You are to travel to the compound with all due haste. I am...not permitted to return without you in tow.” It was at that point that another, broader shouldered man with a maul strapped to his back stepped out from the shadows blanketing the side of her home; the sun illuminated only half of his face.
So, not just a mere messenger. Figures. She crossed her arms in front of her; in her periphery she noted that Sten had gathered her daughter up, and move her into the other room. Brilliant man. “I see. Now tell me, did they explain to you just what it tastes like when you swallow your own tongue?” Her mabari squatted by her side, a low growl in his throat, causing the other elf to flinch.
“Wha -no. No.” The messenger was sweating now. Good. She could work with this.
Unfortunately, the dark-haired man behind him chose that moment to take a step forward, revealing the crest of the Warden's emblazoned on his armor. “There is no need for threats.” His accent identified him as Orlesian, and his smile was as poor an imitation of a charming leer as ever there was. Smarmy; that was the word. His dark and hooded eyes darted to Sten, who had come to stand in an imposing fashion (which was really his default stance) just behind her. “We are all civilized folk here, after all.”
Riiight.
The Orlesian Warden clapped a hand on the messenger's shoulder, his eyes darting briefly to the hound by her side, who responded by dropping his ears and pulling back his lips. The Orlesian merely blinked. “But you must understand our position. We have spent more than a year searching for you. You ought to be thankful to your good friend the King of Ferelden. He has sent us on many a wild goose chase after you.” Kallian had the decency to blush. “So you can see how happy we were to uncover your true address.” He gestured somewhat disdainfully at her home. “Then, only to have you rebuff us at every turn, well...you must understand how it seems. Records indicate that we have contacted you by letter no less than once per month for several months. And all of our requests have been returned with poor and often… ridiculous excuses.”
Sten grumbled, “Multiple requests. Is this true, Kadan?” The undercurrent of disapproval in his voice was quite evident to Kallian. It had never sat well with him how she had so easily shirked her duties to the Wardens. She was positive that he only allowed her to get away with it the way that he did because of Adaia. Her hound leaned against her lightly, a soft pressure against her thighs; she couldn't help but to be thankful for the support.
The man before her maintained a non-threatening posture; all of the challenge resided solely in his eyes. As if he too was judging her for choices he knew nothing about. Maybe they were right. She felt some of the fight drain out of her as she spoke over her shoulder to Sten, “Yes. It is. But-” She held up a hand to halt any interruption and turned back to the messenger and the Orlesian: “I did actually have quite a valid reason for not traveling at the time.”
The other Warden frowned. “A valid reason as to why you have been unable to travel to headquarters for the requested debriefing, since the death of the Archdemon? For nearly two years? Truly? None of the information that you provided in your letters would suggest that to be the case. In fact, I believe two of the replies indicated that you were 'procuring supplies of a most precarious and uncooperative nature.'” Oddly enough, there was a trace of humor in his voice as he spoke. Perhaps the stick she assumed was lodged far up his ass wasn't so large after all. “And a third detailed that you had contracted a 'rare form of Antivan Flu.'” Sten's snort at that was powerful enough to rustle the hair on her head, but it didn't deter the Orlesian one bit. “And so on. Shall I continue?”
“No. There is no need. I am well aware of what I wrote. Including the more...outlandish bits.” She pulled her lower lip in between her teeth, a horrid habit that she had never been able to get over. Just how honest should she be here? Her first instinct was always to subvert the truth, and only provide as much detail as necessary, but that tactic always left her drained. Perhaps it was time to go with a full-on frontal assault of the truth. She certainly wasn't ashamed of her daughter - perhaps clearing the air would work in her favor. Decision made, she continued. “For what it's worth, I do apologize. But you see, I had very little choice but to...fabricate my excuses, as I couldn't very well explain the real reason for my reluctance to travel in a letter.”
The man looked thoughtful, and spread his hands out to his sides in a welcoming gesture. “Please, enlighten me. I am all ears.”
She sighed. “Obviously, even before the letters arrived, I had not contacted the Wardens, as I'm sure you are aware.” The man nodded, a skeptical look upon his face. “I had every intention of doing so, once I had gotten a chance to catch my breath - a year of near constant battle is quite taxing, I can assure you.”
“Yes, I believe that it would be.” His posture was a bit less tense now, good. The little fib about her having planned to contact them obviously went unnoticed (well, except by Sten, who grumbled beneath his breath when she got to that part).
“The fact of that matter was that shortly after arriving here in Seheron, I learned that I was with child. Travel of any sort was out of the question after that.” She cocked a brow at his surprised expression, “In addition to the bandits that litter the highways, there are still several people throughout Thedas who would wish me harm. Ser. Which is why I was careful to not mention her existence in any document traveling unsecured routes.”
“I see.” He studied her face for several long moments; likely trying to decipher if she was lying or not. If the scandalized look he wore when he glanced to Sten was any indication, he believed her.
Sten groaned. She regretted that the implications of the Orlesian's look had long since become common place for him, “No. I am not the father.”
The man seemed genuinely relieved. “Then who-”
“That's not important.” She felt a headache coming on.
The Orlesian nodded his agreement. “Quite right. If I may - how old is the child now?”
The question, as innocent as it appeared on the surface, was pointed. But she could see no benefit in deflecting the issue. “She is a little over a year.”
He nodded, Kallian tried (and failed) to read the look in his eyes. There was something there, some hint of emotion that she could not quite grasp. It was maddening to her that her skills at reading people had apparently dulled so much during her time spent with the qunari. They really were open books, once you got to know them a bit, made life so much simpler. Even if it was causing her problems now. “And do you believe that she is old enough now to handle traveling?”
She chewed on her lower lip once more, the poor thing swollen and chapped as a result, her eyes shifted to Sten's for a moment, but she found no help there. “I don't suppose that there's any way I could convince you to just ask me whatever questions you need to right now and let us alone, could I?”
The man actually laughed, and the sound, genuine as it was, helped to allay some of her fears. “Unfortunately, I know absolutely nothing about what it is they wish to talk to you about. Not specifically at least. I'm little more than a messenger myself. I assure you that I do know who you are, and what you have accomplished. Every Warden does.”
“Lucky me.” This was just getting worse and worse.
“The trip will be as trouble-free as possible, I can promise you that. I am traveling with a convoy by ship; we have been on route for some time - a quick side trip to Par Vollen notwithstanding - and are scheduled to head back to the mainland next. There are three other Warden's with me. Your daughter could not be better protected.”
Sten chose that moment to speak up. “I doubt that.”
She smiled, swallowing down the brief flare up of nausea that had come with the mention of a ship. “How long before your ship leaves?”
The Orlesian relaxed, “Well, that depends a bit on you. We can be ready to depart in three days time. If that would suit? We need to restock, and there is some business we must attend to with the Arishok as well. Once that is done, well...”
She nodded. “That should be fine.”
The man's eyes widened considerably. Near-immediate cooperation was obviously not what he had been anticipating. There was a shift to his stance that made Kallian curious, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. “Good! I daresay, the others will be overjoyed to make your acquaintance. You are something of a living legend in Weisshaupt you know.”
The words chilled her. “That's what I'm afraid of.” She spoke in a mutter, shaking herself of her nerves. “But no matter. I will meet you at the docks in three days time.”
“The ship shall set sail just before mid-day. You may ask for me. My name is Declan. The men at the docks will be able to direct you. Do try not to be late.” He bowed, slightly at the waist, and turned on his heals. The still somewhat frightened looking messenger elf followed closely behind. Kallian wondered why they had even bothered with the subterfuge, given how fast they had dropped the act. It was certainly strange.
As she watched them leave, her hound left her side finally - obviously sensing the danger had passed - and wandered to the back room where Adaia was, pawing at the door until the latch gave way and he was able to get inside. After a minute of making sure that the other Warden was well and truly gone, Kallian closed the door, the clang of it reverberating around the tiny room. She leaned back into the heavy wood, eyes closed. Sten's crossed arms and disapproving glare greeted her upon their opening. It was a highly familiar sight.
“You intend to go with them?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
She blinked. The idea of Sten questioning her on (finally) fulfilling her duty to the Wardens seemed absurd. “I have a responsibility, Sten.”
“You have spent the last two years avoiding them at all costs. It is...curious that all it took for your feeling of 'responsibility' to return were several unsecured missives and one knock at the door.”
She brought a hand up to her head, hoping to rub away the ache. “It's not quite so simple, you know.”
“I do. You have a child now. Rejoining the Grey Wardens at this juncture would not be wise.”
“I can't keep living my life in hiding, Sten.”
It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “Funny. I recall having said the same thing on numerous occasions, only to have you do your best to prove me wrong.”
Heat suffused her cheeks. It was true; Sten had attempted to goad her into doing something time and again. The problem was that he typically hadn't attempted to convince her to leave Seheron, or return to her old life, or anything of the sort. Rather he had repeatedly tried to convince her to contact Zevran. (He may never have learned to like the Antivan, but he did not feel it was right for him to be kept in the dark such as he was.) And that was just something she wasn't ready to do. Not that she didn't think of it. Often. (How could she avoid thinking of Zevran when her daughter bore such a striking resemblance to him?) It just - it wasn't something she was prepared to deal with. Not yet. And although Sten disagreed with her decision to not inform Zevran about Adaia, he allowed the decision to be hers alone. Something for which she was continuously thankful.
She spread her hands out wide by her sides, palms open and facing outward. “What would you have me do, Sten? Fight them? They'd only send more. And that would only put Adaia at a greater risk.”
He huffed, and rose his arms to cross over his chest. “And how does transporting her to Weisshaupt mitigate that risk?”
Again, she pulled that lip of hers in between her teeth, chewing it to within an inch of its life. The truth was that she hated the idea of leaving. To the point that the thought of it made something very close to fear swirl in her belly. Allowing that emotion to take control was not an option, and all her life had taught her that fighting what you fear was always the best course of action. “I need to go, Sten. Delaying it any longer would be...unwise. You must see that. And I don't see a while lot of options, other then bringing her with me.” She knew, no matter how he might feel about the child, that he would never offer to watch after her for an indefinite period of time. Nor would she ever ask. Leaving her daughter...well, it simply wasn't going to happen. Apparently, he was thinking along the same lines.
“Hmph. Perhaps if you had informed her father of her existence, this would not pose such a dilemma.”
Kallian ran her hand through her hair, her back still pressed to the wooden door. She tried, and failed, to imagine Zevran living some domesticated life. With her. And Adaia. Tied down. After Taliesin's death, Kallian had released Zevran from his oath to her, and the look upon his face as he realized for the first time that he was well and truly free had been brighter than the noon-day sun. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel bound to her over one night of passion. They had made no claims to each other, and she wanted him to enjoy his freedom for as long as he could. He had earned that much.
She raised her eyes to Sten, the hardness in his violet ones had softened some since last she had looked. “This would all be so much easier if you were her father, you know. There'd be no need for awkward conversations then.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You would have changed your mind during the birth.”
The laughter that overtook her nearly drowned out the sound of knuckles rapping against the door. “Ugh!” She threw her hands in the air. “What now?” She turned swiftly, and yanked the door open, hard enough that it nearly hit the opposing wall, a scowl etched on her face. “This better be goo-”
“Ahh, how I have missed that look of annoyance, my dear Grey Warden.”
The blood drained from her face, as her hands fell limply by her sides, “Zevran?”
He bowed deeply at the waist, and grabbed one hand as he rose, his warm lips placed a moist kiss to her fingers, “You were expecting someone else, I presume?”
On to Chapter 5!
Author: skybound2
Characters: Fem!City-Elf PC (Kallian Tabris), Sten, Zevran, and Alistair (the overall fic is Zevran/Tabris with Sten and some others tossed in. Liberally, at times. References Alistair/Tabris and Zevran/Other.)
Word Count: ~3700 (this chapter; ~15700 so far)
Rating: T
Summary: Heroes have problems too. That's why they need friends. In this bit: The Warden has visitors. Plural.
Spoilers: Through end game.
Author's Note: Posting this a bit sooner than usual, as I'm not sure when the next update will be. (Hopefully next week, but I have a ficathon entry I need to focus on, so we shall see!) This story can also be found at FFN. Many, many thanks to pennydreadful for the beta!!!
Previously:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Interlude (the First)
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Seheron: Twenty-two Months after the Fall of the Archdemon
Sten had only remained in the little apartment they had first moved into for a short time following the birth. Claiming that there was not enough room, he had returned to the barracks. It had been...quieter without him around. True, he never spoke much to begin with, and now there was an infant whose cries could pierce through the heaviest dragonbone plate; but the quiet was more a sense of absence. She missed knowing that he was only a room away, should she have need.
Even so, she suspected that he spent more time at her and her daughter's home than anywhere else. He must have accepted this as well, since he never did remove the portrait of the goosegirl she had given him from its place above the table.
~~~\/~~~
Watching Sten handle an infant was...educational, to say the least. The first time he had 'held' her, he had kept her at arms length, looking at her as if she was some alien creature. A staring match had ensued (or as best of one as a newborn less than a day old could maintain), at the end of which, a crack in Sten's solid surface had appeared; some semblance of an understanding had obviously passed between the two.
When Adaia began to eat solid foods (or mushed foods, really - she had a particular fondness for boiled peas), Sten could be counted on to willingly feed the child, should Kallian be unavailable. He had even on occasion been willing to watch the babe while Kallian had run out to the markets.
This did not mean that he was willing to change any nappies, mind you. His opinion on that being 'a woman's job' was completely immobile. This fact was not surprising. What was surprising was how willing he was to take the often fussy child from her hands, and coax her back to sleep.
~~~\/~~~
She was regularly amazed by how small her daughter was; for nearly the whole first year of her life, Sten was practically able to hold the elven girl in only one of his hands.
Despite the excessive difference in size, he was gentle with Adaia. Patient. Often, she would catch her daughter, sitting up in her feeding chair, mesmerized. Sten would be seated there, repeating words in the qunari tongue over and over again to the babe (this included a liberal smattering of the word 'Sten', which the child had thus far managed to recreate in the form of 'Sven'); or even reciting the occasional passage of the Qun.
One of her last afternoons in his lands was one such time. “So, what exactly is it that you are currently teaching my daughter?”
“We were discussing the sixth covenant of the Qun.” He looked utterly at ease, sitting on the bench before the child, armor discarded in favor of more relaxed clothing, a bowl of porridge sitting on the tray between them.
She propped herself up against the counter, hands held loosely in front of her. All the time she'd spent talking with the Qun philosophers, and she never did quite manage to learn all of the passages. “Which is?”
Sten opened his mouth to answer (or make some wholly accurate remark regarding her memory, it was typically a toss up with him) only to be subverted by her daughter, who chose that moment to hurl a spoonful of mush at Sten's face. It was a testament to his affection for the girl that he only blinked. One violet eye poked out from the dripping porridge, as he quietly grabbed a towel to wipe himself clean. Her daughter giggled the entire time, a tiny fist bunched up by her mouth. Her mabari pounced on the drippings that slithered down the side of the chair and onto the floor, tiny stub of a tail wagging all the while.
A knock rumbled through the house, and Kallian struggled through her own laughter to undo the lock and open the heavily paneled door, revealing a wraith-thin and wiry elf on the other side. His face was sallow, and he looked as if he could use several decent meals; but his eyes were bright. She rarely saw anyone who wasn't qunari these days, so the sight was a welcome change. He had a large carryall sack thrown over one shoulder. A messenger then. Perhaps he was bringing word from Shianni, or her father. It had been some time since she had received any news from home.
She smiled widely and tucked a lock of fallen hair back behind her ear, “Yes, can I help you?”
“Are you the Warden Tabris?”
Her smile, along with her feelings of goodwill, dissolved abruptly, and she brought her body to attention. She stole a glimpse to the left and right outside her door, looking for any evidence of an ambush. Nothing was immediately visible, however the heavy shadows cast across the building from the mid-day sun left ample positions for someone lying in wait. Behind her, she heard the chair scrap the floor, and knew that Sten had moved to stand protectively in front of Adaia.
“Depends on who's asking.”
The man clipped his heels together, and presented her with a scroll. “You've been summoned to appear before the Warden's of Weisshaupt, ser.”
She relaxed marginally then, “Oh. This again. Here, give me the letter.” She scanned the contents: it was the same old drivel. “Hmm. I'm assuming that you can deliver a message back to them?”
The messenger appeared slightly regretful when he spoke, and he looked briefly to his left, “Actually, ser...It was made quite clear to me that a return reply is not permissible. You are to travel to the compound with all due haste. I am...not permitted to return without you in tow.” It was at that point that another, broader shouldered man with a maul strapped to his back stepped out from the shadows blanketing the side of her home; the sun illuminated only half of his face.
So, not just a mere messenger. Figures. She crossed her arms in front of her; in her periphery she noted that Sten had gathered her daughter up, and move her into the other room. Brilliant man. “I see. Now tell me, did they explain to you just what it tastes like when you swallow your own tongue?” Her mabari squatted by her side, a low growl in his throat, causing the other elf to flinch.
“Wha -no. No.” The messenger was sweating now. Good. She could work with this.
Unfortunately, the dark-haired man behind him chose that moment to take a step forward, revealing the crest of the Warden's emblazoned on his armor. “There is no need for threats.” His accent identified him as Orlesian, and his smile was as poor an imitation of a charming leer as ever there was. Smarmy; that was the word. His dark and hooded eyes darted to Sten, who had come to stand in an imposing fashion (which was really his default stance) just behind her. “We are all civilized folk here, after all.”
Riiight.
The Orlesian Warden clapped a hand on the messenger's shoulder, his eyes darting briefly to the hound by her side, who responded by dropping his ears and pulling back his lips. The Orlesian merely blinked. “But you must understand our position. We have spent more than a year searching for you. You ought to be thankful to your good friend the King of Ferelden. He has sent us on many a wild goose chase after you.” Kallian had the decency to blush. “So you can see how happy we were to uncover your true address.” He gestured somewhat disdainfully at her home. “Then, only to have you rebuff us at every turn, well...you must understand how it seems. Records indicate that we have contacted you by letter no less than once per month for several months. And all of our requests have been returned with poor and often… ridiculous excuses.”
Sten grumbled, “Multiple requests. Is this true, Kadan?” The undercurrent of disapproval in his voice was quite evident to Kallian. It had never sat well with him how she had so easily shirked her duties to the Wardens. She was positive that he only allowed her to get away with it the way that he did because of Adaia. Her hound leaned against her lightly, a soft pressure against her thighs; she couldn't help but to be thankful for the support.
The man before her maintained a non-threatening posture; all of the challenge resided solely in his eyes. As if he too was judging her for choices he knew nothing about. Maybe they were right. She felt some of the fight drain out of her as she spoke over her shoulder to Sten, “Yes. It is. But-” She held up a hand to halt any interruption and turned back to the messenger and the Orlesian: “I did actually have quite a valid reason for not traveling at the time.”
The other Warden frowned. “A valid reason as to why you have been unable to travel to headquarters for the requested debriefing, since the death of the Archdemon? For nearly two years? Truly? None of the information that you provided in your letters would suggest that to be the case. In fact, I believe two of the replies indicated that you were 'procuring supplies of a most precarious and uncooperative nature.'” Oddly enough, there was a trace of humor in his voice as he spoke. Perhaps the stick she assumed was lodged far up his ass wasn't so large after all. “And a third detailed that you had contracted a 'rare form of Antivan Flu.'” Sten's snort at that was powerful enough to rustle the hair on her head, but it didn't deter the Orlesian one bit. “And so on. Shall I continue?”
“No. There is no need. I am well aware of what I wrote. Including the more...outlandish bits.” She pulled her lower lip in between her teeth, a horrid habit that she had never been able to get over. Just how honest should she be here? Her first instinct was always to subvert the truth, and only provide as much detail as necessary, but that tactic always left her drained. Perhaps it was time to go with a full-on frontal assault of the truth. She certainly wasn't ashamed of her daughter - perhaps clearing the air would work in her favor. Decision made, she continued. “For what it's worth, I do apologize. But you see, I had very little choice but to...fabricate my excuses, as I couldn't very well explain the real reason for my reluctance to travel in a letter.”
The man looked thoughtful, and spread his hands out to his sides in a welcoming gesture. “Please, enlighten me. I am all ears.”
She sighed. “Obviously, even before the letters arrived, I had not contacted the Wardens, as I'm sure you are aware.” The man nodded, a skeptical look upon his face. “I had every intention of doing so, once I had gotten a chance to catch my breath - a year of near constant battle is quite taxing, I can assure you.”
“Yes, I believe that it would be.” His posture was a bit less tense now, good. The little fib about her having planned to contact them obviously went unnoticed (well, except by Sten, who grumbled beneath his breath when she got to that part).
“The fact of that matter was that shortly after arriving here in Seheron, I learned that I was with child. Travel of any sort was out of the question after that.” She cocked a brow at his surprised expression, “In addition to the bandits that litter the highways, there are still several people throughout Thedas who would wish me harm. Ser. Which is why I was careful to not mention her existence in any document traveling unsecured routes.”
“I see.” He studied her face for several long moments; likely trying to decipher if she was lying or not. If the scandalized look he wore when he glanced to Sten was any indication, he believed her.
Sten groaned. She regretted that the implications of the Orlesian's look had long since become common place for him, “No. I am not the father.”
The man seemed genuinely relieved. “Then who-”
“That's not important.” She felt a headache coming on.
The Orlesian nodded his agreement. “Quite right. If I may - how old is the child now?”
The question, as innocent as it appeared on the surface, was pointed. But she could see no benefit in deflecting the issue. “She is a little over a year.”
He nodded, Kallian tried (and failed) to read the look in his eyes. There was something there, some hint of emotion that she could not quite grasp. It was maddening to her that her skills at reading people had apparently dulled so much during her time spent with the qunari. They really were open books, once you got to know them a bit, made life so much simpler. Even if it was causing her problems now. “And do you believe that she is old enough now to handle traveling?”
She chewed on her lower lip once more, the poor thing swollen and chapped as a result, her eyes shifted to Sten's for a moment, but she found no help there. “I don't suppose that there's any way I could convince you to just ask me whatever questions you need to right now and let us alone, could I?”
The man actually laughed, and the sound, genuine as it was, helped to allay some of her fears. “Unfortunately, I know absolutely nothing about what it is they wish to talk to you about. Not specifically at least. I'm little more than a messenger myself. I assure you that I do know who you are, and what you have accomplished. Every Warden does.”
“Lucky me.” This was just getting worse and worse.
“The trip will be as trouble-free as possible, I can promise you that. I am traveling with a convoy by ship; we have been on route for some time - a quick side trip to Par Vollen notwithstanding - and are scheduled to head back to the mainland next. There are three other Warden's with me. Your daughter could not be better protected.”
Sten chose that moment to speak up. “I doubt that.”
She smiled, swallowing down the brief flare up of nausea that had come with the mention of a ship. “How long before your ship leaves?”
The Orlesian relaxed, “Well, that depends a bit on you. We can be ready to depart in three days time. If that would suit? We need to restock, and there is some business we must attend to with the Arishok as well. Once that is done, well...”
She nodded. “That should be fine.”
The man's eyes widened considerably. Near-immediate cooperation was obviously not what he had been anticipating. There was a shift to his stance that made Kallian curious, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. “Good! I daresay, the others will be overjoyed to make your acquaintance. You are something of a living legend in Weisshaupt you know.”
The words chilled her. “That's what I'm afraid of.” She spoke in a mutter, shaking herself of her nerves. “But no matter. I will meet you at the docks in three days time.”
“The ship shall set sail just before mid-day. You may ask for me. My name is Declan. The men at the docks will be able to direct you. Do try not to be late.” He bowed, slightly at the waist, and turned on his heals. The still somewhat frightened looking messenger elf followed closely behind. Kallian wondered why they had even bothered with the subterfuge, given how fast they had dropped the act. It was certainly strange.
As she watched them leave, her hound left her side finally - obviously sensing the danger had passed - and wandered to the back room where Adaia was, pawing at the door until the latch gave way and he was able to get inside. After a minute of making sure that the other Warden was well and truly gone, Kallian closed the door, the clang of it reverberating around the tiny room. She leaned back into the heavy wood, eyes closed. Sten's crossed arms and disapproving glare greeted her upon their opening. It was a highly familiar sight.
“You intend to go with them?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
She blinked. The idea of Sten questioning her on (finally) fulfilling her duty to the Wardens seemed absurd. “I have a responsibility, Sten.”
“You have spent the last two years avoiding them at all costs. It is...curious that all it took for your feeling of 'responsibility' to return were several unsecured missives and one knock at the door.”
She brought a hand up to her head, hoping to rub away the ache. “It's not quite so simple, you know.”
“I do. You have a child now. Rejoining the Grey Wardens at this juncture would not be wise.”
“I can't keep living my life in hiding, Sten.”
It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “Funny. I recall having said the same thing on numerous occasions, only to have you do your best to prove me wrong.”
Heat suffused her cheeks. It was true; Sten had attempted to goad her into doing something time and again. The problem was that he typically hadn't attempted to convince her to leave Seheron, or return to her old life, or anything of the sort. Rather he had repeatedly tried to convince her to contact Zevran. (He may never have learned to like the Antivan, but he did not feel it was right for him to be kept in the dark such as he was.) And that was just something she wasn't ready to do. Not that she didn't think of it. Often. (How could she avoid thinking of Zevran when her daughter bore such a striking resemblance to him?) It just - it wasn't something she was prepared to deal with. Not yet. And although Sten disagreed with her decision to not inform Zevran about Adaia, he allowed the decision to be hers alone. Something for which she was continuously thankful.
She spread her hands out wide by her sides, palms open and facing outward. “What would you have me do, Sten? Fight them? They'd only send more. And that would only put Adaia at a greater risk.”
He huffed, and rose his arms to cross over his chest. “And how does transporting her to Weisshaupt mitigate that risk?”
Again, she pulled that lip of hers in between her teeth, chewing it to within an inch of its life. The truth was that she hated the idea of leaving. To the point that the thought of it made something very close to fear swirl in her belly. Allowing that emotion to take control was not an option, and all her life had taught her that fighting what you fear was always the best course of action. “I need to go, Sten. Delaying it any longer would be...unwise. You must see that. And I don't see a while lot of options, other then bringing her with me.” She knew, no matter how he might feel about the child, that he would never offer to watch after her for an indefinite period of time. Nor would she ever ask. Leaving her daughter...well, it simply wasn't going to happen. Apparently, he was thinking along the same lines.
“Hmph. Perhaps if you had informed her father of her existence, this would not pose such a dilemma.”
Kallian ran her hand through her hair, her back still pressed to the wooden door. She tried, and failed, to imagine Zevran living some domesticated life. With her. And Adaia. Tied down. After Taliesin's death, Kallian had released Zevran from his oath to her, and the look upon his face as he realized for the first time that he was well and truly free had been brighter than the noon-day sun. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel bound to her over one night of passion. They had made no claims to each other, and she wanted him to enjoy his freedom for as long as he could. He had earned that much.
She raised her eyes to Sten, the hardness in his violet ones had softened some since last she had looked. “This would all be so much easier if you were her father, you know. There'd be no need for awkward conversations then.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You would have changed your mind during the birth.”
The laughter that overtook her nearly drowned out the sound of knuckles rapping against the door. “Ugh!” She threw her hands in the air. “What now?” She turned swiftly, and yanked the door open, hard enough that it nearly hit the opposing wall, a scowl etched on her face. “This better be goo-”
“Ahh, how I have missed that look of annoyance, my dear Grey Warden.”
The blood drained from her face, as her hands fell limply by her sides, “Zevran?”
He bowed deeply at the waist, and grabbed one hand as he rose, his warm lips placed a moist kiss to her fingers, “You were expecting someone else, I presume?”
On to Chapter 5!