This takes place eight months after the end of my fic Love & Levirate, in case you are wondering why Anora and Alistair are relatively comfortable together, and also, why Anora is so pregnant.

Special thanks to Arsinoe and Piceron, whose reviews inspired this story, to Phoe for the word "garderobe," and to Mutive for being such a wonderfully vicious beta reader.

(This chapter originally posted in the Queen_Anora LJ community for the Heavenly Virtue, Patience)

9:32 Dragon

-o-

This could only be described as undignified, Anora thought, as she negotiated her swollen body from the garderobe for what must have been the seventeenth time that evening. The books all said that thirty-eight weeks was the expected term, and of course Anora knew the exact moment she had conceived, and it had been well past thirty-eight weeks. She was more than ready to get this baby out of her.

"Any contractions yet?" Alistair asked, as she returned to the bedroom.

Anora glared at him. "Yes, actually, I just gave birth and forgot to mention it." She tossed her dressing gown over a chair. Alistair reached out to steady her as she climbed back into bed, and she rested her hand on his shoulder before moving carefully to her side. "Don't worry, you will know when I'm in labor," she told him, "as I intend to take it out on you when the pain starts."

He reclined beside her and smiled. "That's what I'm here for."

She returned his smile faintly. "Why did I want to be pregnant again?"

"Because of your warm and fuzzy maternal nature?" At this Anora scowled, and Alistair moved his hand to cover hers. "I'm sorry. I know you're very anxious to have this child."

Anora took a deep breath. She had waited seven years for this, for an heir of Theirin blood— of her blood— to secure her position as Queen of Ferelden. She could wait another week. Or two. Anora groaned and tried her best to be patient.

She turned away from him, seeking a comfortable position, and fiddled with the sheets under her fingers. "I feel so hideous and fat and awful."

His hand moved to her waist as he kissed her behind the ear. "You know I think you're beautiful. You're a beautiful, glowing, sexy mother goddess who is carrying my child." He curled up against her back, his hand moving up her side. She rolled over again to face him again, and he shifted back, accommodating her stomach.

He pulled a quick kiss from her lips before leaning over her, and Anora breathed against his neck. She was suddenly overwhelmed by his musky smell, and she felt her stomach turn over.

"Ugh, stop, you smell like you," she groused, pushing him off and covering her mouth with her hand. The nausea passed quickly but her anxiety remained. Anora realized that she was not going to get any sleep, and she rolled over and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, sitting up. She remembered something her midwife had told her. "Lydia said walking helps." She stood quickly. "I'm going for a walk."

"Hold on, I'll come with you."

She nodded and pulled her dressing gown back over her shoulders. As they exited the bedroom, she nodded at the guard stationed outside and he fell in behind them. Alistair offered her his arm and she took his hand, her fingers threading between his.

They turned through a doorway and into a courtyard. The brisk night air was refreshing and she took a deep breath. The stone felt cold beneath her feet, even through her slippers, and Anora pulled her husband closer to her.

Alistair squeezed her hand. "Isn't this crazy?" he said, his voice soft. "Pretty soon we're going to have a baby."

"I certainly hope so," she said, running her free hand over her distended belly. "I am very much ready to have my body back."

His pace slowed and he looked at her sideways. "You've never been around babies, have you?" he asked carefully.

"No," she replied, after a moment's consideration. Alistair was watching her curiously and she shook her head. "I don't suppose that I have."

The King tilted his head skyward, his features rimmed by moonlight. "I remember when Connor was a baby," he said. "Maker, but he had the fattest little hands." He fell silent, his thoughts following a memory, before he turned to her again. "They can't even hold their heads up when they're born. This is a brand new person, Anora, and he—"

"—or she," she interjected.

"Or she," he added, "will be completely helpless. We'll need to feed him, and change his diapers, and teach him to read, and write, and how to ride a horse and which fork is for dessert and right from wrong and all sorts of amazing stuff." He sighed wistfully. "He'll a brand new person, and he'll depend on us for everything. For now, and for the rest of his life, really."

Anora looked down at her hand; the baby was kicking her palm, as though it knew that she could feel it. "You know, as sovereigns of a rather large country," she said, "we already have a lot of people who depend on us for everything." She looked back at Alistair. "And of course we don't actually have to do all of that ourselves. We have people who will do all that for us."

"I know we don't have to," he agreed, "but don't you kind of want to?"

Anora had not decided how to respond to this before a shock of liquid gushed down her leg. She looked down at her dress, now uncomfortably damp, and winced.

"Really?" she asked, of no one in particular. "What just happened? This is ridiculous." She huffed and rolled her eyes. "Pregnancy is some sort of cruel joke that the Maker has played on women everywhere."

"I don't think..." Alistair began, and his eyes went wide. After a moment he grinned. "I think your water just broke, Anora."

"I think I would know if my water broke, Alistair," she snapped, picking at the sticky fabric with her fingers. "For one thing, I would probably start to feel... yeeaahh what in Andraste's name is that?" Anora doubled over and clutched her stomach.

"Are you having...?"

"Yes," she gasped. "Go get Lydia, Alistair. Now." Her husband started to leave, leaving the guard shadowing them unsure of who to follow, until she shrieked and grabbed his arm. "No, wait, come back. I can't..." Anora felt the contraction tightening her abdomen, pushing all the air out of her, and she collapsed against him. The books said it was not supposed to start this forcefully, that it was supposed to start gradually. Maybe this was gradual, she thought wildly, and she started to imagine it getting a whole lot worse. Anora began to panic.

"Maker's blood," she whimpered. "Alistair... help."

He held tight to her arms and steadied her, finding her eyes and holding them. "Remember to breath," he said gently. He took a long, slow breath, and she struggled to match it. As she exhaled, the contraction faded, and she regained control for a moment. Alistair hooked his arm around her and said, "Let's go find Lydia together, okay?"

-o-

Anora could no longer tell if it was day or night . The hours dragged, punctuated by the ticking clock of contractions, so that time was only contraction and not contraction, and then all at once the contractions changed. They changed suddenly and violently, so that they weren't just crushing her, they were compelling her, speaking directly into her gut in an undeniable voice, and what that voice said was push, and it said now.

"I have to push," she breathed.

Lydia frowned, the thin lines on the sides of her narrow mouth creasing. She disappeared beneath the curve of Anora's stomach, inspecting her. When she reappeared she shook her head. "Not quite yet," she said. "Hold steady for now, your Majesty.

"Hold steady... no, no, Lydia, I can't wait." Anora looked down at the midwife beseechingly, her breathing heavy. "I'm going to push."

"I said no." Lydia was a petite woman, but she had a firm voice that was not afraid to give orders to a Queen. She stood up and moved quickly to her side. "I don't want to scare you, your Majesty," she said, "but your body is not ready. If you push now, you will have internal tearing and there could be permanent damage." The midwife patted her arm. "Just be patient. You have to wait a little longer."

"A little longer...!" Anora threw back her head and clenched her fists.

The urge came again, pounding against her pelvis, and Lydia leaned over her. "Try to breathe through it," she said. "A deep breath in, there... hold it... now out." Anora's lip trembled, and Lydia held her fist in her hand. "Sometimes it helps to reach for the Chant," she suggested. "Maker, though the darkness comes upon me—"

"No." Tears stung her eyes and Anora started to shake violently. "I can't... I can't do this."

She felt Alistair's hand on her other side. She looked at him and he pushed the damp hair back from her forehead. "I shall embrace the light," he said quietly. "I shall weather the storm."

Anora closed her eyes. "I shall endure," she said, and tried to breathe.

-o-

"Aaargh, I can push now, right? Please?"

"Yes, your Majesty," Lydia called back, from beneath her. "Push now. Give it all you've got."

Thank Andraste. Anora lifted herself up on her arms and bore down. The contraction was horrible and painful and it felt like it had been going on for years but now she could finallydo something and that was much better than sitting still. She took a deep breath and pushed as hard as she could.

Alistair sidled over to the midwife and knelt beside her. "Anora, I can see his head! He has hair!"

Anora scowled down at him. "Ugh, stop looking Alistair!"

"Remember, just keep breathing." He returned to her side and demonstrated breathing.

Anora glared at him. "Don't tell me to breathe, Alistair. I know I'm supposed to breathe." She set her mouth in a hard line. "I hate you," she muttered. "I hate you so, so much. Go away." Alistair took a step back and she lowered her head, pushing.

The contraction ended, leaving her body trembling and weak, and Anora settled back against her chair. In a moment it would start again, in a moment it would never end, she thought, and she felt the tears coming again, spilling over her cheeks. "I didn't mean that. Alistair, I'm sorry. Don't go." She began to sob uncontrollably. "I didn't mean it."

Alistair came back to her. "I know," he said. "Just... breathe, okay, Anora."

-o-

As suddenly as it began it was over. With a final push and a choking scream, the baby came free, and when the afterbirth came a moment later Anora leaned back and let her breath catch up with her body.

As Lydia took the baby away, Anora's mind came back to her from through the fog. She heard someone tell her it was a boy. Putting her hands to her face, Anora realized she was still crying, and she stopped. She did not feel like crying any more. More than anything, she felt leaden and wasted and wanted to sleep for a week. In the corner, Alistair crouched over the baby as Lydia washed him. Alistair cooed something, and Lydia chuckled.

Anora lifted her head. "I heard that," she said, raising an eyebrow. "I told you, Alistair. We are not naming the baby Duncan, and that's final."

"But—"

"Duncan is a wretched name," she said. Anora rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. "It sounds like spitting." Alistair turned to look at her with large dark eyes, but she shook her head. "Theirins have elegant names like Calenhad, or Brandel, or, well..." She gave him a weak smile, "Alistair."

"But—"

"You know, I want to name him Loghain, but I'm not about to fight for that, now am I?" She sighed heavily and crossed her arms over her chest. "You can't name your first born after someone my father killed. It looks bad." Alistair bit his lip, and she looked away. "Pick something else."

He was quiet for a moment before he spoke. "Gareth, then," he said.

Anora looked back at him, surprised. "That was my grandfather's name."

"Gosh, really? I had no idea." Alistair's eyes danced as he smiled. "I do read sometimes, you know, Anora. And neither of us would exist if it weren't for Gareth, so I thought, I don't know, we both owe him a lot. But it sounds kind of weird with 'Theirin.'" He shrugged. "Your call."

Anora's took a deep breath and smiled. "I think it's lovely." She sat up a little and craned her neck. "Now what are you both doing over there, really? I want to see my prince now, please."

Lydia obliged her, lifting the tiny pink form up to her chest and carrying him over to her. She deposited him carefully into Anora's waiting arms. The baby mewled and his eyelids fluttered, and she adjusted his position. He felt warm and new and entirely hers.

"Gareth," she mouthed, trying it on. She decided that it fit.

"Are you sure you're strong enough to hold him?" Alistair asked, half reaching to take the baby back. "I know that labor was really hard..."

"Oh, hush," Anora said. She stroked the baby's head. "It wasn't that bad."

Alistair's mouth fell open, but Lydia touched his hand as she passed him and he shut it. The midwife watched the baby squirm in her arms, his mouth seeking. "He's rooting," she observed, cocking her head to the side. "Shall I fetch the wet nurse now?"

"Wait." Anora had already made a decision not to breastfeed herself— she was the Queen of Ferelden, after all, and not a cow— but as the baby nuzzled against her chest she spontaneously changed her mind. She could not explain why, but she looked up at Lydia and said, "Show me what to do."

The midwife, for her part, did not show surprise. "Hold his neck here," she said, guiding Anora's hands. "Position him as best you can but don't force his head. Point his mouth here and make sure his mouth is fully open before you... no, hold your breast like this." The midwife grasped her with practiced confidence, and after a frustrating moment, the baby's mouth latched over her nipple. Anora felt a tug at her breast and she stopped breathing. Lydia smiled. "There."

Anora looked down at the baby suckling on her chest. She was not just the wife of the King anymore; she was the mother of his heir. She would never again have to fight to keep her throne as she had during the Blight.

Gareth's mouth slipped off her breast and he began to fuss, unable to move himself the few inches back into place. Anora tried to lift his head back into place and failed, feeling clumsy and unprepared. Her fingers were too tired to hold him properly. Lydia nudged Alistair, and he leaned in closer. His hands supported hers and she let him help her.

Finally, the baby latched again, and the Queen exhaled. His eyes opened, revealing dark blue-gray eyes, and Gareth looked up at her once before settling against her chest and closing his eyes again. Anora held him close. Her crown was safe. Her position was secure. But her heart was beating harder than it ever had in her whole life. She swallowed hard and looked at Alistair, her eyes wide.

"I don't have any idea what I'm doing," she admitted.

He met her eyes and smiled. "I guess we'll have to figure it out," he said. He kissed the baby's cheek. "Alright then. New chapter."

-o-