There and Back Again Ch. 150

Try again? Like, on purpose? I couldn't quite wrap my head around the concept. I mean, we'd both agreed we wanted children, and I would never forget the feeling of utter dismay and disappointment when I'd realised the child we'd accidentally conceived was going to die; but it was one thing to have it happen accidentally, and a whole different kettle of fish to actively plan it. On one hand, I could just see a little blond-headed child in Alistair's arms, his smile of paternal pride...but on the other hand, was I ready to do it on purpose? What if I make a terrible mother? I squashed that sentiment ruthlessly.

"Not yet," I finally whispered. "There's so much to do for the next little while. But...but soon," I concluded.

"Soon," he agreed, and with that decided, he kissed my temple and curled up beside me, dropping off to sleep with a faint smile on his face.

********

When I woke again, I had no idea how long I'd been asleep or what time it was. Dim light filtered through the shutters, but it could have been dawn or dusk -- or just a particularly cloudy day, for all I could tell.

I was alone in the massive bed, but I could hear voices from just outside the door -- Alistair and Aedan, I decided after listening for a minute. I conducted a brief internal inventory; I was still tired, but the bone-chilling exhaustion had gone, and I was aware that some amount of fatigue was likely to linger for a while after being awake for five days. I was stiff from lying in bed too long, and felt slightly icky -- between sweat, tears, and the remains of the miscarriage I'd only managed to clean up with a quick wipe, I was desperate for a bath.

The grief was still there -- I wondered if it would ever really disappear, or just fade with time the way it had after Duncan's and Riordan's deaths -- but I'd had the chance to face it, have my cry, and get the support I needed, and it wasn't so sharp anymore. I was sure it would come back to bother me at times, but for the moment I felt like perhaps I was coping in a relatively healthy way.

And however briefly, the grief was over-ridden by curiosity. Something had obviously happened at the Circle; my brother, normally so diplomatic and charming, had been a right idiot when dealing with the templars, and Anders and the others looked like they kind of understood where it was coming from, so it wasn't just a bad day. I wanted to know why, and this was as good a chance as I was likely to get if I didn't want to talk about it in front of everyone.

I peeled back the covers, stretching lazily, and then hopped out of bed. I hadn't noticed that I'd been sleeping in one of Alistair's tunics -- he must have changed me when I was asleep, and had known I'd find wearing his clothes comforting -- so I combed through my armoire, found a loose pair of cotton pants to slip on, gathered my wild hair into a messy ponytail, and headed out the door.

Alistair was just in his cotton sleeping pants, but Aedan was in full armour, his two swords sheathed at his hips. Zevran was with him, silently brooding. They were talking softly in the hallway between our room and our sitting room, but they all stopped to look at me when they heard me open the door.

Alistair smiled apologetically, and I leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek before turning to my brother to do the same. I felt him sigh in relief, and his arms wrapped around me, squeezing too hard until I squeaked out an objection.

"I'm sorry," he rushed to say before I could get a word in. "I wasn't here and I had our only healer with me and-"

"Shh." I squeezed him again, and then eased away and took his hand in my own. "It isn't your fault." I met his eyes, urging him to believe me. "I'm okay, or at least, I will be."

Alistair excused himself to go find a shirt, and I drew Aedan and Zevran into our little sitting room, giving Zevran a tight hug and then urging both of them into chairs.

"So. Tell me."

Aedan's expression turned cagey. "Greagoir and the templars and mages are working on one of the cages to hold the Architect. The six who took over for you are doing fine, and the Architect is mostly still asleep, or at least quiescent. The-"

"No." Aedan raised his eyebrow at me at the interruption, and Zevran clenched his jaw and looked away. "Tell me what happened. You can give me every little detail about the Circle and Solona and Faren and everything after, but I want to know what happened first."

Alistair rejoined us, settling on the floor at my feet; I stroked his shoulder, and he pressed his cheek to my hand. "I'd like to know too. You're usually a bit more, uh, tactful."

Aedan and Zevran exchanged glances. Zevran's scowl deepened. Aedan shook his head, sighing, and Zevran's face reddened noticeably, a feat given his golden skin. "Would you have them helpless, then, love? Unsuspecting, right up until they pay for it?"

I looked back and forth between the two men, and finally Zevran slumped in his chair, waving one hand dismissively. "Whatever you wish, amore mio. What do I know?" The Antivan kept muttering to himself under his breath, refusing to make eye contact; I strained to hear the words, but they were in Antivan and my bad self-taught Italian wasn't anywhere good enough for that.

And then Aedan derailed any thoughts I had of trying to interpret further. "The Crows figured out Zevran's alive, and they know he's here."