A/N: This will be a precursor to my main story I am working on currently, In Your Heart Shall Burn. It will assist in explaining why the Grey Warden has left in search of a cure for the blight. This will be only a short couple chapters, and will deal with loss and other uncomfortable topics.

As always, I do not own anything Dragon Age related, and this work of fiction is merely that.

It was all so miraculous. The feeling of movement, pressure and fluttering, making her insides roll and bringing a smile to her face all at once. She rest one hand upon her extended stomach and felt the lurch underneath before feeling a small mound rise and press hard against her palm. To be honest, it was also unnervingly unpleasant; watching her skin twist and swell like an ocean tide was a bit unreal.

But, Maker, it was miraculous.

They had said it was impossible, she would be barren, yet within her grew -quite heavily, she may add- the next Theirin. She was a Grey Warden, as was he, and as such suffered from the taint in both their blood. As a fledgling king it was expected, no demanded, of him that he produced a successor to the throne. She had tried to bring up discussion of a concubine to heighten his chances, yet he would have none of it, retiring himself to the belief they would have no heirs rather than betray his vows to the woman he loved. He would have none other, and made it apparent to her that she was all he would need, regardless of her fertility. He made sure to show his devotion to her almost nightly, sometimes mid-day, in the form of heated embraces, breathless kisses, and well… No one could say it was for a lack of trying.

Good thing for you, little one, your father is persistent. She smirked to herself, rubbing the spot just above her navel which had been most recently offended by the awkwardly placed limb from within.

She was pulled from her musings by a curious voice, "Darling, is everything ok? Are you daydreaming about nugs again?"

A soft chuckle from the nobles gathered around her filled the immediate area. Lifting her eyes to meet those of her adoring husband, she locked on a playful squint and soft grin gracing his lips. Glancing about the room she reacquainted herself with her surroundings. The rush of music and chatter came to her and she looked around the assembly of nobles, noticing several had eyes upon her, as if waiting for an answer to a question lost.

"Oh, I am sorry, dear, I..." She straightened up and placed a smile across her face, "Oswyn, thank you for this lovely party. I would dance more, but alas my poor feet would mutiny against me." She raised the goblet she had been loosely holding in her free hand toasted to the young man. She came closer to her husband to embrace him, to which he returned her grasp lightly. Lifting her chin, she placed her lips against his ear, "I shall excuse myself for the remainder of the assembly, I fear I have had enough merriment for one night."

He pressed his face to hers, a slight purr coming from him as he strengthened his hold on her waist momentarily, eyes pressed closed. "I am sorry, my love, I want to come along, however I can not join you until I have been passed around like one of these meat trays. Speaking of," a quizzical look passed over his face, "have you ever heard of that odd fish paste? I've eaten some questionable Ferelden foods before, but I am sure fish is not supposed to be purple. I will never understand what passes as delicacies for nobility." He pulled slightly away from her to look into the deep pools of her eyes, and adjusted to a more serious tone. "You know, you are more beautiful every time I lay eyes on you." They shared one more kiss before he gently let go of her, placed a kiss on her hand, and returned to the conversation.

The Queen looked to her handmaiden, a brief signal that the woman caught quickly, moving to support her as she made her way from the ballroom to the guest quarters where they had been set to stay the night. Not due for weeks still, her nursemaid and midwife were still at the castle preparing for the new arrival rather than create unnecessary burden during travel. She was still unaccustomed to how heavily they had to travel for the royal caravan after traversing Ferelden with none but her small band of mercenaries for so long. Surely with how heavily they traveled now days they could accommodate one or two more persons. Disregarding her fussiness, the handmaiden assisted her with disrobing, bathing, and getting into bed, which was no easy task in her recent state.

Upon settling in bed some time later, positioned precariously on her side with a down pillow propping her up, she began to drift off. A soft click of the door open gently behind her, and the rumble of the lock shortly after, roused her. Soft steps made their way across the room, the muted thud of garments falling as the steps drew closer. The slow flickering of the fireplace distorting the shadows it cast upon the wall.

Once reaching the bed he fit himself behind her propped on one elbow, forming to her body. Placing a kiss along her exposed shoulder he reached a hand around, ghosting it along her side and hip, coming back up to the roundness of her stomach. He caressed the form, running his hands along her aching skin, littering kisses across her neck and collar as he did so. She let out a soft moan, nestling deeper into the soft blankets of the bed she rest upon. "How are you feeling, darling?" He crooned into her hair, breathing deep in the scent of the wavy locks that flowed around her.

"Hmm, better now the pressure is off my spine. I swear this little one will come out wearing a full set of plate mail," she mumbled into the crook of her elbow which supported her head. His grasp traveled up to her shoulder, one large calloused hand worked in gentle circles pulling the knots from her muscles, first in her shoulders and down the length of her back. Tingles shot down her spine and shivered up her neck, making the hair there prick up. He kneaded her tense muscles for a short time, taking pleasure in her muted sighs of relaxation. He relaxed beside her, wrapping an arm loosely along her shoulders, caressing her lightly.

Her breathing softened shortly after and become slower indicating she had been taken by sleep. He took this small moment, as he had often once she began to show signs of being with child, to be alone with his little one and silently tell them of all the great things he had planned. She would have the same beautiful chestnut hair as her mother. He would be better with a sword than his father, or maybe he would wield a bow like his mother. He would learn politics from his mother, or she would have her father's sense of humor. They had no way of knowing who their little one would be, but he knew they would grow to be the best of them both. Soft tendrils of sleep began to wrap itself into his muscles, relaxing him into a state of semi-consciousness, slowly suffocating his awareness with the last thought being of his child and the hopes he had for him or her.

It was unknown how long had passed before he was shaken awake by the strangled scream emanating from the woman next to him.