No Armor Against Fate (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

Temptation

Amaranthine was in decent shape, Thora had to admit. They would need to make some changes to take it from elegant castle to practical training ground and Warden fortress, but it was comfortable enough for their immediate needs.

They'd sent messages around, letting people know that Thora had been injured on the road to Amaranthine, that she would recover, but the progress would be slow, hoping that would keep visitors at bay.

"Remind me again, Wynne, how I'm going to get all this work done while I'm stuck in my rooms 'recuperating'?", she'd asked. It had been decided that even the servants couldn't get too close a look at the Warden Commander. Fortunately, they didn't need a lot of servants for just the three of them and the mabari, so it was mostly contractors they'd have to worry about.

Oghren took on the task of handling the contractors. He seemed to be relishing it, even managing to remain more or less sober. They knocked down walls, tore up carpets, and generally spent their time keeping the whole castle in an uproar.

Thora wrote to the Orlesian Grey Wardens to send on some books and other information regarding the Joining and the history of the Grey Wardens. She and Wynne went over the texts thoroughly, but could not find anything that would set their minds at ease about the welfare of the baby. It was an active child, kicking and punching at all hours, and appeared to be growing well.

One day, about two months after they'd arrived, Thora was restlessly pacing her room, wondering how she was going to handle this for three more months. She heard Wynne's familiar knock on the door.

"Come in," she called impatiently. And jumped, startled, when the head poking itself around the doorway was not grey, but red. "Leliana!!"

The bard came the rest of the way into the room, with Wynne following. Leliana's eyes widened in surprise. "My dear friend," she said. "Wynne told me, but I didn't really believe ..." She stared at Thora's belly. "It is so strange to see you without armor. You look ..."

"Large," Thora cut in. "I know. And getting bigger by the day."

"That's good, though, right?" Leliana came closer, giving Thora a gentle hug.

"Better than the alternative," Thora agreed. "But what are you doing here? I thought you'd be halfway back to Haven by now."

Leliana shrugged. "You know the Chantry. It could take another year or two before what is promised becomes what is happening. So I found myself with some time on my hands."

"Have you—?" Thora's heart was pounding in her ears. She wanted to ask, but then again, she didn't want to know.

"A minute and a half," Wynne said.

"You were right, my friend," Leliana said, passing a coin over to the mage. At Thora's raised eyebrows, she explained, "We had a bet going on how long it would take you to ask about him."

"Thanks a lot."

"As it happens, I have a letter here from a certain person for another certain person," the bard said, taking a sealed envelope from her pocket and waving it around. Grinning, she handed it to Thora. "He wanted this carried by someone he could trust, and I wanted an excuse to come here and see some of my favorite people," Leliana said. "Now I know you won't be able to concentrate until you've read it, so I'll come back in a little while and we'll have a nice long visit."

"How long can you stay?" Thora asked, clutching the envelope tightly. She could almost imagine she felt his heat coming off it.

"A couple of weeks. Then I'll have to get back, or the Chantry will forget all about the Haven trip. I have to practically perform miracles for every penny they squeeze out of their purse," Leliana complained. She and Wynne left the room together, while Thora sank onto the bed, holding the envelope in hands that shook so hard she could barely break the seal. Part of her was reluctant to open it—from the timing, she was willing to bet it had something to do with his marriage, and she just didn't want to know. As long as it wasn't open, she could pretend he was writing to beg her to come back, and further fool herself into thinking that if he did that, she might go.

Finally, taking a deep breath, she unfolded the paper, her hand tracing the neat writing that spoke of years of Chantry training.

"My love,

I'm sending this with Leliana, so can be less circumspect than I would otherwise have to be. I think you know why I am writing. Other than because I want to talk to you, to see you, to—be with you so desperately. But those thoughts belong to another life. In this one, I am writing to you to let you know that a bride and a wedding date have been chosen. The date will be two months hence, to give all the fancy folk a chance to arrive for the big day. I assume your injuries will prevent you from making the trip? (I further assume that you are healing well. If you ... needed me, you would call for me? I hope?)

My queen-to-be is a nice girl, named Dorothea. She seems to like me, for some reason, and laughs at my jokes, so that's a plus. It isn't the same, obviously, but is not as bad as I had expected. We will see how things go once everything is final. Some days, it seems I'll wake up back in camp with you and all of this will be a more or less bad dream.

If I write any more, I might just throw down the pen, saddle a horse, and deliver this message myself. Sometimes I wonder if you would be angry if I did that ... or not.

Love always,

A."

The paper fell from her hands, and she sat with her arms crossed over her belly. One word from her and this would all stop—she knew it. He'd be at her side, they could raise their child together. For a mad moment, she stood up, ready to call to Leliana, to beg her to go and get him. Just the thought of being in his arms again, hearing his beloved voice, laughing at his ridiculous jokes, sent flashes of heat shooting all through her body.

Then the baby kicked violently, returning Thora to reality. She unlocked a drawer in her dresser, placing the note on top of a long red braid and a single beautiful rose, as perfect as it had been the day he had given it to her. Sighing, she closed and locked the drawer again and returned to her pacing.