Nathaniel had wanted to contact Elissa the moment he'd seen her face plastered across every news source he laid his eyes on, his fears for her safety only doubling as he recovered from his impromptu Joining inside the Warden compound.
Yet another thing she didn't know.
When he was finally well enough to move about, he spoke to his commanding officer and took his leave for the day. His uniform felt somehow far more comfortable than and yet completely alien to his normal wardrobe as he made his way through the streets toward her Lowtown apartment.
He'd promised never to show up again unannounced, but he'd been calling and texting to no avail for several weeks and though no news of her demise or injury had made its way into the papers, he began to fear for her safety even more the longer they went unanswered.
He took in a deep breath upon reaching her apartment, straightened his uniform, and knocked, bracing himself for the lecture or series of lectures he was certain lay behind the curling black paint and water-warped wood of her door.
Yellow eyes peered out through strands of near black hair as Dastan tilted his chin up in response to the bartend's question of whether or not he wanted another stout now that his first was finished. And just like that, another was delivered. No words necessary. Though if you asked the wolf they seldom ever were.
The men at the end of the bar were getting rowdy again, their incessant (and increasingly loud) lewd commentary about every female that walked by suddenly focusing in on the lone brunette who'd settled on a stool nearby. Either the tall woman didn't notice, or she didn't care. She could have been hard of hearing, though the dock hand doubted it as she'd carried on a conversation with several of the staff over the course of the evening.
It was becoming increasingly difficult for him not to intervene, though she had yet to admonish them. Still, it was best not to draw attention to himself if he could avoid it. Though if one of them touched her in a way she didn't seem to care for... all bets were off. KPD be damned.
I am going to stop checking my mail. Elissa thought, glancing at the congratulatory memos from various foreign dignitaries and the interview requests from television networks and publications. She was lingering on the border of shoving the entire stack in the trash when her eyes caught sight of the one that did not look like the rest.
The envelope was a generic color of grey, the lettering on the address and return address was distinctive and relentlessly neat, and the postmark was Fereldan. A prison no less.
Anxious fingers flicked under the edge of the seal, carefully pealing it back to reveal a similarly listless grey stationary on which was written a letter she had never expected to get. After reading it a second time she pulled out her phone and sent a text to her fiancé:
Tell Varric you need some time off. I have to go back to Ferelden and I’d rather not go without you. Talk when you get home?
Three days past Elissa's return from Ferelden, a letter arrived from the penitentiary in Amaranthine. It was properly validated and had clearly been read by authorities before being allowed to leave the facility. It reads: "Miss Cousland. Word of your good health has long since reached my ears. If you have the time and the will, I would very much enjoy to see your livelihood for myself. The stamps and marks on this letter will tell you where to find me if you so desire. Waiting, Rendon."
(Content of Letter to accompany Along Came A Spider)
"If it’s one of those naughty elf costumes, you wasted your money." Gamlen barked at the bathroom door, voice far more gruff from impatience than actual irritation.
"It’s not." She called back from inside, a low trill of laughter coming in the wake of her words.
"Heard that." He muttered. Not that it mattered. He glanced at his watch as minutes ticked past. "Those reservations were for eight at night, not eight in the morning, you know?"
A pause and then: “not going” chirped from beyond the door.
Now he was irritated, and grumbled as he stood, yanking at his tie. “What do you mean ‘not going’? I got dressed, Cousland. It takes time to look this good.”
The laughter from the other side of the door did not help with his mood. Things had been tense between them since she’d taken Cailan Theirin up on his offer to assume her father’s seat at his counsel table. Not to mention the arrival of Nathaniel’s father, in Hightown, not too far removed from their own estate. Despite his feelings on the matter, his wife trusted the man and seemed to genuinely enjoy his company, meaning his presence in their lives was an exponentially growing trend.
"I’ll just get changed then." He mumbled, tugging off his tie as he left the master bedroom and stepped into their massive walk-in closet. He tried not to feel disappointed as he carefully rehung the pieces of his suit, but it seemed a disturbing trend this new lack of follow through from her when they made plans together.
When she stepped into the closet still dressed as though nothing had changed, his ire only grew, and he was forced to stifle his commentary to something of a neutral grunt as she closed the distance between them and held out something that looked suspiciously like a home pregnancy test. His heart skipped for a moment, eyes widening minutely as he looked up at her. “Is that what I think it is?”
"Depends." She said, smiling softly as she handed it over. "What do you think it is?"
He looked at it, the symbols foreign close up, and after the heartbreak of their first unknowing conception, no one knew the look of every brand on the market better than Gamlen. Except, perhaps, for the woman still staring expectantly at him. “It’s no pregnancy test. That’s for blighted sure.”
His tone was harsh, but held no true animosity. He was more tired and uncertain than anything. The first few days of their marriage had been a timeless pocket of perfection, but the weeks and months after that had been —at times— far more exhausting than perhaps either of them wanted to admit. And standing there, half-dressed in the dim light of their closet, not knowing how to read her any better than the heavy plastic at his fingertips, he’d never been more terrified that they’d drifted so far apart they could never find their way back to the shore.
"I don’t know what I’m meant to be seeing. Either explain or bring me a few beers so I can see it from another angle." He said finally, holding it back out to her as he turned away, pretending not to see her face fall at his dismissal. He was hurting her, and he knew it, but then she’d been hurting him too. It seemed the one thing, of late, they could both rely on.
"It’s…" Her voice wavered and shook, but she cleared her throat and forced herself to continue. He’d understand and they’d find their way back together. He had to. The way forward was unthinkable. "It’s a fertility test. I’m ovulating." She tried again, but still nothing. "Gamlen I cancelled dinner because I’m asking you (I’m begging you)… I want you to make a baby with me. Here. Tonight. Or wherever you want, I don’t know… maybe it’s this place. Maybe it’s killing us." She passed her eyes around the closet, feeling the familiar burn that said tears weren’t far behind. "We can go back to the apartment and do it there…"
He sighed and dropped his head. The whole day he’d been so focused on giving her whatever she wanted, whatever would make her happy, and all she wanted was him. Quite literally. He’d been acting like a fool.
Disregarding the rest of his proper suit maintenance and just tossing the rest in the floor he worked open his belt and added it to the pile, toeing off his shoes as he turned toward her. “Better get out of that dress if you want this to work, Miss Kitty.”
"You want to conceive our child in a closet?" She laughed, wiping away the tears with the back of her hand, the light catching the custom made ring on her hand.
"We’re just starting here. Got a whole house to work through. Though it’s probably a bad idea to put our son in you in my…"
"Don’t you dare finish that sentence." She warned, though her lips curled harder into a smile.
"You’re still dressed." He smirked, dropping his pants and waggling his eyebrows at her.
She closed the space between them, pressing her fully clothed body tight against the bare skin of his naked form, the juxtaposition of this instance against their usual circumstances lost on neither of them as she took his face in her hands and kissed him tenderly. When she withdrew, there were tears in her eyes, but though he could read strain and fear within those emerald depths, he could also not help but find the overwhelming undercurrent of her pure, unflinching love for him. “I love you. You know that. That has never and will never change.”
"Strip down, Senator. We’re already behind schedule and I’d like to at least get half this wing covered before midnight." There was no reciprocation in words, but she saw it and felt it, and that was enough for them both in this space where they’d finally laid anchor again at arm’s length.
He swatted her on the ass when she didn’t move fast enough, the motions of their old patterns coming back as though they’d never been forgotten. And maybe that’s what marriage was in the end? Losing the path and then finding it again. Working to make it easier to follow, together.
As he watched the woman he’d never expected to find, much less keep, taking off her dress for him, Gamlen found he couldn’t think of a better definition, and what’s more he didn’t want to. Elissa fit. She just fit. Not because he forced her too or because he’d changed her. Not because he changed himself or because he created some concept of her to suit his needs. Not even because he wanted her to. She fit because she was made to, and it was a reciprocal concept as he knew she felt it to.
There was no better Satinalia gift than the renewal of his faith in his wife, in himself, and in the life they’d made together. Except perhaps the one they’d make together tonight given just a little of the luck he’d always claimed to have and a kind of hard labor Gamlen Amell would never complain about being asked to do.
Unanticipated Surprises - [Elissa, Gamlen and Fergus]
"No, no. Don’t bring anything just meet me at my apartment. I picked up food from that Fereldan place two blocks over." Elissa paused, turning the corner onto the street where her apartment lie. "Yes I got enough to feed you. Just because I haven’t seen you in years doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how much you eat. I even added to the normal allotment because I read somewhere Wardens eat more than we regular people."
She laughed as she skirted a group of teenagers riding their skateboards down the sidewalk, moving the bags and phone to opposite hands before pressing the receiver to her ear once again. “Look, Fergus, all that’s important is that you are there. I want you to meet Gamlen. It’s important to me.” Another pause, causing her to gnaw at the edge of her nail in anxious anticipation and then a smile overtook her face. “Excellent! I will see you in a few minutes then.”
She hung the phone up as she reached her door, not bothering with her lock picks as she knew that Gamlen was home. “Hey.” She said, eyebrow arching when she noticed the food prep underway in her kitchenette. “Shit! Were we…” Her feet slowed as she walked to the small table with the laden bags of food, her teeth pressing anxiously into her bottom lip. “I didn’t forget an anniversary or something did I?”
