#fulluponcrazy

They learn, sooner rather than later, and perhaps the easiest way (if there is an easy way) that Cassandra cannot have her own children. The terms of their marriage was that Cassandra was to provide an heir for Ferelden and its people. It was unwritten and unspoken, but her job other than to act as Queen, was to help keep the Theirin bloodline going.

It was not meant to be. She did not weep, as it was because there had been perhaps one or two too many sword wounds littering her abdomen. Something made her uninhabitable by another life, and she did not weep, and it did not surprise her that was the case due to the life of battle she lead.

“It is not unheard of to find a surrogate, courtesan, or a consort in our circumstances.” she offered one night (and it was a suggestion out of love even if he couldn’t see that), and Alistair vehemently refused. It was touching, but unneeded. She would not wilt, but as it were, their attention was needed on other things.

Instead, they focused on the growing unrest in Ferelden. The Inquisition is uprooted and gone, it leaves people homeless and scared. Cassandra had been there at the end with the Inquisitor (she took their arm), and she knew the truth. She did not lie to Alistair for long before she admitted what had transpired. She recounted Solas’s apparent betrayal with much too much hurt.

He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her temple and it was something so small that reminded her how much he loved her. It settled into her bones and spread through her like a warm drink would.

They travel to the largest cities (which she learns there aren’t many, it isn’t like Nevarra) in Ferelden. They are Amaranthine and have managed to find a moment of solace where they can shuffle themselves into their armor and their nondescript cloaks. They shake their guard and Alistair seems intent on getting to Vigil’s Keep, to introduce her to “the family” as he lovingly refers to them.

They do get there, and perhaps it is not the smartest thing they do while in Amaranthine, but it is the best thing they do. She has seen Alistair smile briefly like he does with the mass of Grey Wardens around him. She watches greetings and loving insults be thrown around before she is finally introduced. It’s Oghren who suggests they celebrate a wedding the Grey Warden Way. The festivities last far into the early morning, and Cassandra dances for hours with Alistair and other Wardens a like (while she tries not to think about how he might eventually rot away and lose himself to the Taint).

They walk back in the early morning light, taking their time seeing as they know they’re going to get a talking to from Teagan. It’s Cassandra who hears the wails from the river, and she tears off down the steep incline from the water with little regard to Alistair’s yelling.

On the current she can see a basket, and she has to fight the current to even get there in time to barely catch the woven reeds. She grips it tight to her chest, trudging back to the edge of the current to pass up the basket to Alistair before she climbs the slope with his help.

She can now make out, two different wails coming from the basket, and she removes her gauntlets before gingerly lifting one of the two children out of the basket. “Hello--” she greets, talking to the baby as if it could understand her. She looks over at Alistair as he follows in suit, picking up the other. Despite being on the river, both children smell, and must have been riding the current for a day or two. They, of course, take the children with them and sneak back into their quarters without being noticed for now.

They wash both children and Cassandra swaddles them in extra woolen shirts she has after their cloth diapers have dried by the fire with Alistair’s help. The children fall asleep side by side on the large bed before Teagan finds them. Cassandra herself is drying beside the fire when he comes in and before he yells, Alistairs puts a finger up to his lips and gestures at the children.

“And whose babies are those?” Teagan asks, as if he already knows the answer. “Ours” Cassandra and Alistair say, nearly simultaneously. Teagan throws his hands up in a brief “Thank the maker” motion before he quietly makes an exit. letting them know that they’re not done talking about this.

Cassandra lets Alistair undo her braid before she slowly settles her head in his lap so she can fend off the chill of the river while watching the small bundles up on the bed. “I know you do not have... nearly as much faith in the Maker as I do Alistair, but... I do believe this is a gift from him.” she admits carefully before she looks up at him, receiving a light kiss as a silent reply.

“I said I was aware you think I’m attractive. I still think it makes no sense, but I am aware you think so.”

[draft] Im pretty sure youre confused or possibly concussed [text: Beardsalot] You just told Alistair all on your own

She sat on the floor by the fire in the Denerim estate of Arl Eamon, tankard cradled close to her chest and staring into the fire. It was warm and pleasant on her face, and ever aching joint from her armor was slowly untightening for the night half plied by the cider and the other half by heat.

(after so many nights out among the stars, on the dirt or in the pouring rain it was strange to be surrounded by walls)

Her face lit up in a soft serene way it did seeing any of her friends and that feeling of safety settled further in her chest beside the gentle softness of being slightly buzzed. Her belly was full of dinner, and Birka was happy asleep with her paws shifting every so often hopefully chasing as many birds and squirrels as she pleased in her dreams.

Jenny patted the warmed stones beside her for Alistair to join her. She took the last sip from her drink and sett it aside, fingers coming up to tug at some of the newly gained white in her hair. “While I’m sure the seats are far comfier, I just couldn’t seem to settle in the cushions right” she admitted. “Dare I say, I miss sleeping in the dirt, I think.” Jenny went on to joke.

Symbol Meme Starter || @fulluponcrazy

It feels so incredibly normal. At the end of the world, at the end of everything.... they’re huddled in front of a fire and Shepard is trying not to burn the toast again while also keeping an eye on the stew. Rain could be heard from their makeshift lodgings, but for now they remained dry.

(normal felt maker sent.)

“Hm?” she lets her eyes slowly stray from the babysat bread and to her companion. The uncorked wine skin not only is inviting in concept, but she can smell it from where he’s holding it. 

“Oh yes please--” she abandons her work of stew and bread to briefly take a sip, “You’re still bleeding, you know.” The Champion then states, briefly poking a seeped through bandage on his arm with just enough force to see if it’d drip. “You should let me redress it, after we eat.” Shepard then insists, returning the skin and to her work.

“Hawke,” Alistair begins so very patiently, “you’re the Champion of Kirkwall.” A short beat, before he emphasizes, “Kirkwall. A city that is, by its very nature, ‘shitty stuff.’ Can you really blame people if that’s where their thoughts go?”

It was a complete accident when Mika and his friends found the man. As much as he loved storms, he knew they needed to rest a bit in a dry place, and so they sought a cave. They had finished what they meant to do, but they had preferred some rest instead of going through the rain. The road back to Skyhold would be long, so it felt better to stop a little bit now.

They just didn’t expect to find someone inside, after going further in to check for spiders or any other threats. However, he didn’t seem to be hostile, so Mika showed a smile.