Dragon Age Brain Rot

When Eamon finally made his way back into the room, Alistair was sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard and her head in his lap. It looked like the king had fallen asleep with his fingers in her hair and one of her hands cradled in his. Any other day he might insist on getting the regent back on track, but with the archdemon newly dead and the country saved from blight, he supposed he ought to let the boy have a day to rest.

The next time Alistair opened his eyes, Elona was watching him. He had slid down the headboard in his sleep and ended up in an awkward slump, which explained the terrible crick in his neck, or maybe that was the days of marching and the hours of fighting for his life. At least he'd stripped off his armor and wiped the gore from his body before he'd climbed into bed with her. As much as he wanted to joke about everything that happened, her eyes were full of fear and uncertainty, and when she lifted a hand to his face it shook.

“Is this real?” She finally whispered, and her voice broke. “Are you–”

“Still here,” he assured her. “Still alive.”

“How?” She ran her hand over his face, his neck, his arm—taking stock of every inch of him.

For a moment he closed his eyes, reveling in the touch he had feared he might never feel again. As he'd struck the final blow to Urthemiel, he had prayed that she would be left with a world worthy of her, that she would find love and fulfillment in his absence. If the Maker would let him, he would dedicate his afterlife to that end. But when he woke next it wasn't at the Maker's side, it was on a rooftop surrounded by faces that weren't hers.

“I wondered that, too. Turns out Morrigan had a creepy sex ritual with your brother and made a vessel for the old god’s soul to go into. Will she have a baby? A dragonling? A demon? We’ll never know because she disappeared.” He sighed-–it still annoyed him no matter how much he thought about it. “If you’re thinking, ‘wow, that’s messed up.’ I agree. Completely.”

“Then they knew that no one was going to die, but they didn’t tell us?”

“Arran said he wasn’t sure it would work and Morrigan swore him to secrecy.” He threw his hands up. “The evil witch just had fun seeing us suffer.”

Her brows knit as she thought back to the moment he’d plunged his sword into the archdemon, one hand on his heart and one holding his sword, and they’d both been certain he was going to die. The light that had poured out of the dragon had been so intense it had felt as if it consumed her, body and soul. And that had been fine with her; she wanted no part of a world that didn't have him in it.

“When I woke up, I thought maybe this was what it was like, to be at the Maker’s side. I’d thought, ‘take me with him,’ and then I was here.”

Alistair sat up and stretched his neck with a groan. The bed moved behind him as she followed suit, and then her hands were kneading his neck and he forgot about what he was going to say. “Elona,” he breathed her name as her fingers raked through his hair; she knew exactly what she was doing to him. “We should really talk about that.” 

“I don’t want to talk,” she told him, her lips brushing his ear. “You're alive; I just want you.”

When her lips met his neck, he slid out of the bed and away from her. If he looked at her, he knew he would cave, so he paced to the windows that lined the wall and faced out toward the city. Pyres still burned. The city would be mourning for weeks, rebuilding for years, but the people of Ferelden would have a chance to do so with the Blight ended.

“You weren’t moving,” he said at last. “I got up, and you weren’t moving. I thought you’d found a way to make the sacrifice instead of me, and I…I was devastated and furious and I couldn’t breathe.”

Quietly she padded across the room, and wrapped her arms around him. For a moment she just held him, her cheek pressed to his back.  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

“Morrigan got to you first,” he continued, and then he clenched his jaw to keep from ranting about how much that had irked him. Twisting in her arms, he cupped her face in his hand, his thumb brushing over the delicate curve of her cheekbone. “Everyone said, ‘don’t worry, she’s just exhausted.’ But somehow she knew, and then Wynne confirmed it—you’re pregnant.”

“I—what?” For a moment her mouth hung open, the news taking her by surprise as it had him. Emotions flashed through her eyes—surprise, wonder, joy, doubt. She leaned back, a hand on her stomach, and her brows drew down in concern again. "Did the ritual—"

"No," he said quickly, then realized he hadn't even considered it. Wynne had said it had been months, not days, and surely she would know. Right? His eyes narrowed as he considered it, and then he shook his head decisively. "No, the old-fashioned way."

Relief washed over her, and then a flush. Eamon had more or less encouraged such a thing - not that they had waited for his approval - but she remembered the severe look the arl had given her as he appraised her. It was obvious he found her lacking.

“I understand you’ve won the heart of our future king,” he had said, voice devoid of warmth. “As a mage, you understand you cannot currently hold the titles of queen or consort, but if you’re willing to learn alongside him, you can still be of great help to him. And if you’re able to bear his children, all the better. He must secure his throne with heirs.”

Perhaps he would find her a little less lacking when next they met.

“They're sure? They could already tell?”

“Wynne said it was early, but she seemed pretty sure.” His hand covered hers on her stomach. “Please tell me you’re as terrified as I am.”

She laughed and nodded. "Mortified."

“Oh, good,” he sighed in relief. “I thought it was silly, seeing as we just killed a dragon and stopped a blight, but the thought of becoming a father? Wow.”

“You were also terrified of becoming a king,” she pointed out, moving their hands from her stomach to his heart. 

“Well, true,” he conceded. “I guess there’s that. We have a few months to figure out how to actually be parents. Maybe we should start with a puppy.”

The excitement in her eyes when he mentioned a puppy made him laugh. “Can I get a mabari?”

“I don’t know, do you think the palace is big enough?” He teased her and brushed her hair back from her face. “I think there’s a royal kennel somewhere, you can have them all.”

She surged forward and peppered his face in kisses. “I knew I made you king for a reason.”

“Elle, you’re carrying my child,” he told her, his eyes warm and sincere. “I’d give you all of Ferelden if I could.”

“All I want is right here,” she countered. “And maybe a puppy.”

“I’ll add it to my to-do list, which is apparently longer than the Chant of Light now.” He laid his head back against the glass behind him. “Did you know we have servants now? I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“You have servants now, Alistair,” she corrected. “I’m pretty sure I’m considered one of them.”

“What? No. Much as I like the idea of you serving me in the bedroom,” he drew out the word suggestively, “you aren’t just the royal pike polisher. You know that, right? It isn’t fair that I can’t give you a crown, but in every other way, you’re my queen.”

“I do,” she assured him. “You’ve never made me feel like anything less.”

“If anyone ever makes you feel like a servant, or an accessory, or a womb with legs, you have the king’s permission to turn them into a toad,” he offered. “I bet we even have a pond to toss them in.”

She laughed and he lifted his hand back to her cheek, cupping it tenderly.

"I really thought I'd lost you," he confessed. "In that moment I knew, Elle—I can't do this without you."

For a moment she leaned into his touch, and then she turned her head to nuzzle against his palm. "You won't have to. I'm not going anywhere."

"If you did, I wouldn't blame you. This isn't going to be easy. I'm a king and I can give you less than I could as a man, it feels so—"

To silence him she pressed her fingers to his lips and laid her other hand against his chest, over his heart. "This is all I need. The rest? We'll figure it out together."

When she lowered her hand, he leaned forward to press his brow to hers. "You're incredible, you know that?"