There is a cure for the darkspawn taint. It's as risky as the Joining, but it's a cure. Nathaniel hasn't decided how he feels about it, but thinks he will go through with it at least when the Calling comes. That would make death quicker if it did not stave it off, and perhaps give him a life with Anders.
For now, he loves being a Warden. He isn't sure what he will do if Anders decides to take the cure before he does, but that will be a question long awaiting an answer. Today, there is a different question to settle, one he does not yet realize is waiting to be asked.
He hadn't known what to think, when he first heard about the cure. The Wardens had put so much on the line to save his life. Not only that, but if he left, there might not be any safety for him. Some memories are long. But as the day goes on, his mind turns to what he could do, he and Nate could do, with so many more years, and there's one thing that especially stands out: family. Anders has always wanted children, but knew it wouldn't happen. Now? The biggest obstacle is gone.
When he gets back from patrol, he finds Nate and wraps his arms around his partner's middle, resting his cheek against Nate's back.
Nathaniel's hand comes up from twisting his bowstring to rest over Anders'.
"I have no idea," he says dryly, but still twists his head to claim a kiss. He likes this, the familiar and casual adoration. An everyday worship. There is no such thing as less is more here, no light touch or subtlety. They've gone so much of their lives without love that they want to fill it to the brim now.
"So you'd kiss anyone who hugged you then? Suddenly I feel less special." It's said with clear teasing as he savors the easy moment. If they do this, if Nate's on board, Anders has to share Nate and Nate's kisses. He finds he doesn't mind this.
"Though I could find reason to be more lenient and understanding of someone else getting to hug you." He likes doing this, saying something that Nate won't understand and the archer will turn over and try to figure out before asking what Anders means.
"Zevran again?" Nathaniel has a hard time thinking of inviting anyone but Zevran into their bed, so he gives Anders a slightly skeptical look. Unless...Anders is doing that thing where he says something completely incomprehensible without a vital bit of information he has yet to divulge. Sneaky bastard.
He grins. The conclusion makes sense, and the look Nate's giving him makes the deliberate delay entirely worth it.
"Actually, no. I was..." The grin softens, tones down. Nate probably has a good idea of how much Anders has wished for a child, but Anders doesn't want Nate to feel pressured. this has to be something they're both on board with, 100%. "I was thinking of something a lot more long-term. There's a cure, now. We could have longer lives. We could... We could think about having a family. More of a family."
That gets a surprised blink. Nathaniel's gaze breaks away as he absorbs the idea. Yes, he'd seen Anders do some baby-crazy things. Seeing as how they're both men, he had thought it a dream he'd already said goodbye to, a wish for another life.
And there's a brief, stuttering moment where he looks back at Anders with a squint, unable to stop the question:
"Oh." Nathaniel's eyes widen briefly, privately, at himself. "Yes, of course. I meant--"
No, there's no way to salvage that. He rubs his face.
"You're free to laugh about that for a minute and a half while I. Think about this."
Because pushing past the dumb question, Nathaniel has done very little of the considering of having children. At first, it was simply a fear of emulating the parenting of his own parents. Then, he was with another man, and it never occurred to him to...do what? Snatch up an unwanted orphan?
That's actually a really, really good idea. If Nathaniel is suited for it.
Nathaniel and Anders are in their best clothes, Anders on Nathaniel's arm like a hunting hawk as they step into the Chantry-run house. The acolyte ushers them into a room where a priest is bent over in prayer. A whispered word is passed. The priest nods and gestures for the men to sit as the acolyte quietly abandons the room.
"Nathaniel Howe and Anders," the priest says gravely, taking her own chair and setting her aged hands on her knees. "There was a time I would never have imagined hearing either of you out in this circumstance. But you are unusual folk of equally unusual deeds, and your request is most unusual of all. I am willing to hear what you would say to make me consider giving a child to you. I am told you do not want a hand or a servant, but a child to call your own. If that is true, it reveals a great love in your hearts."
He's nervous, so nervous. He's done a lot of good in the most recent years, worked with all of his heart, but there's no real making up for what he had done. They might be rejected, and this is one of the few times when rejection would cut to the core. But the priest's words hold promise, and Anders glances between her and Nate before nodding and clearing his throat.
"We, neither of us, had childhoods that were... loving. Where we were precious. But I believe, we believe, that children deserve that. I want to show a child that they matter, that they can still have a family of the heart even if they've not one of blood, because other people showed me that." He'd been out of hope and alone, and one by one they'd shown him he didn't have to be.
The priest listens to his words and nods, still looking solemn before looking over at Nathaniel. "And you? Is he right in what he says for you both?"
"Yes." Nathaniel's breath catches as he looks at Anders and squeezes his hand. "Yes. We want a family together. We have so much love, Mother. So much hope. We want more people in on it. We want a real family."
When he looks back at her, his eyes are misty.
"We want to bring that to a child who is like we were--unloved and unwanted."
The priest gives Nathaniel a stern look, briefly, but it is cut with pity. "Don't mistake a child who is given away for a child who is unloved or unwanted. But I know what it is you mean. You cannot have children together, so you will bring love to a child who cannot have parents."
Her head bobs for a moment. She looks at Anders keenly then, face grave.
"You killed children. But I also know that you saved children. I will not say that an equal number of children saved atones for the number of children lost. But there are many who speak for you. There are many who believe you are eager to atone for your wrongs. Would you take a child as a sacred duty, a chance to protect as much life as you once took?"
Maker, would he. He nods, trying not to be too hasty or look too eager. This is something to be taken seriously, for all the joy it could bring.
"I would. I'd protect and stand by them, support them. They wouldn't simply be loved as my own, they would be my own." Their child, their family, their love. "I know that, that being raised by me could be hard for them. That they'd have to face the terms of who one of their fathers is, and that it..."
That it might not go well. "But I will love them and do my best by them, no matter what the future brings."
She looks a little wry at his words, shifting at her desk. "Would that you though of that before you took so many lives." He doesn't answer. He doesn't have anything to say. She exhales and pulls out a small stack of papers. "I believe you believe your words and that you mean them. While we have a few sisters here that disagree, I'd already come close to a conclusion yesterday, after reading the paperwork you filled out. We have more than we can take care of, which means we're giving you a chance."
If he'd thought his heart pounding before, it has nothing on now.
"Are there any preferences? I can't guarantee we can grant them, but this way you may only view a few and don't get the hopes of too many children up."
"Mage blooded," Anders says without hesitation before looking back at Nate. "They'll have the most trouble finding a home, and whether or not they wind up being a mage, they'll be loved."
"And we will know just how to raise them," Nathaniel agrees with a nod at Anders. "If we have a child who is a mage, we will raise them responsibly, to be a good citizen in a changing world. They will know what to expect before their power ever manifests, if it does."
His own heart is pounding. He hadn't hoped to enter here and leave with a child, but somehow it's beginning to seem like a possibility.
The priest does smile now, and give a nod. "That does narrow the possibilities considerably. I believe I know just the child."
Nathaniel's heart slams against his rib cage.
"Unfortunately, it is not yet born. A young girl is due very soon, and her parents do not want the responsibility of a mage-blooded bastard." Her eyes flicker to Anders. "I think, of all people in Thedas, you will see to it that such a child is loved and protected."
Nathaniel looks at Anders, hope in his face, ready to leave this as his call. Maybe their baby hasn't arrived yet, but it could be on the way, and already he wants it more than he thought he could want a child he has not yet met.
The hope he feels is so clearly mirrored in Nate's eyes that Anders can't help but break into a smile. They can make up for her blood family being unworthy. And she'll never know rejection, just acceptance.
"Yes," he says, holding Nate's hand tight. His father hadn't wanted him, but she'll have two fathers there for her. "That will give us time to set up her room for a newborn and find a wet nurse." He'd figured on them gettin someone a little older, but this changes nothing in his heart. He's ready to give this baby the best home possible.
"When is the expected due date?" Once they have that, they head into town and make the house ready, because this is happening. This is real. He has a man who lives him, who he loves in return, and soon, a child.
The details fall into place far more easily than expected too. The wet nurse is a woman he'd tended to when she'd broken her leg, a family whose children he'd healed of deep chest colds have a spare cradle they don't need anymore, and Nate has contacts there as well.
"We're going to need to start thinking of names," he says with an open smile as the room starts to take shape.
He gives Nate a small smile. "I like it. Adria Teren, perhaps? Or Teren Adria?" The old Warden had meant a lot too Anders, and he's pretty sure she had to Nate as well. "I have one name, you've two, and our daughter could have three."
It's the middle of the night when there's a pounding at the door. Nathaniel stumbles to the door wrapped hastily in a dressing gown, as he and Anders spent the night before taking advantage of having the house to themselves. Anders may or may not be able to walk right now. He opens the door and looks blearily at an equally tired twelve-year-old still panting from her run.
"Baby," she wheezes. "The baby's born. You have to come, I guess. Mother Diane is waiting."
She opens her hand as if to receive coin, but Nathaniel is already taking the stairs three at a time and shaking Anders awake.
He blinks his eyes open blearily, trying to process the words until suddenly they click and he's jumping out of bed... and stumbling, because oh, right. He'd been pounded relentlessly into the bed just a short time ago.
"Ow. Get... Get dressed, I need to heal myself quickly." His hand's already glowing. Generally he likes this ache, likes letting it subside on its own, but right now there's something more important going on. As soon as he's fine walking, though, Anders is throwing on robes and not even bothering with leggings. A moment later he's dashing into the room they have set aside and grabbing blankets - it's night, the baby could be cold - and rejoining Nate.
"Let's go meet our little one." He's nervous. So very nervous. But he's also absolutely happy as he reaches out to take Nate's hand with one of his and close the door behind them with the other.
Clothes. Clothes are suddenly difficult. Nathaniel has never been so nervous and excited in his life, so it takes several tries to get pants on. Then there's a shirt and a cloak, and they're headed out the door. Nate steals a kiss from Anders' lips, their fingers threading, then they tug each other away to follow the girl to the orphanage.
There is a chapel in the orphanage. Nathaniel shoves it open to reveal the priest they spoke with, alone in the chapel except for a little bundle in her arms. His vision narrows to her and that bundle, and she smiles at the men.
"You have a son," she says serenely, her face full of joy.
"A son," he echoes, stepping forward in quiet awe to gently take him from her arms. She's still watching him, he can feel it, but he couldn't care less.
"Hello, Karl," Anders whispers, turning to show him to Nate as well. "I'm your Dada, and this is your Papa." He feels like he could explode from joy.
"Would you mind taking the blanket and tucking it around him? And then... Then we can take him home." Their baby, who is currently so tiny and wrinkled and perfect.
Nathaniel doesn't mean to crowd them, but he does. His hand reaches out to touch that tiny palm with his index finger, and wrinkled little fingers curl tightly around his. His vision immediately blurs. A shuddering sob wracks him.
"I'll gather the rest of his things and give the two of you a moment," the priest says tactfully, and she vanishes.
"He's perfect," Nathaniel whispers, a blink knocking tears down his cheeks.
Anders leans in to kiss a tear from Nate's cheek, crowding in close.
"He is, and he's ours. Our son." Tiny Karl, holding Nate's hand. That's an image he'll never forget. The next kiss is placed on Karl's forehead, who reaches with his other hand for some of the hair Anders had forgotten to tie back.
"Ow," he says for the second time tonight, but this time he's laughing. "He has a good grip, already. That's a good sign, such a good sign." He'll check their son over later, when they're back home. Doing that here might be seen as insulting by the priest, who comes in with a few assorted items, booties, hat, papers. Papers that once they sign, make it official that he's named Karl and that he's theirs.
"Karl Padrick Howe," he tells her and spells it out slowly so she can spell it right. Their Karl.
Karl Padrick Howe. Nathaniel holds the tiny baby while Anders signs, and is almost too besotted to remember to sign himself. That squirming little weight in his arms is so hard to give up and pass back to Anders while he signs. Karl Padrick Howe.
The hat is firmly affixed on Karl's head, he is wrapped up in blankets galore, and it is time to go home. A midwife will visit once a day for a time, to make sure Karl is doing well, but otherwise he is wholly and completely theirs.
Karl Padrick Howe.
"He has your nose," he teases softly, but he can see it. As impossible as he knows it to be, he sees Anders in this little boy already.
He laughs at the ridiculousness of it, pressing his temple to Nate's for a beautiful moment as they walk back.
"We're not sleeping tonight, are we." How could they? How could they put this little bundle in another room and walk away tonight? "At least we've a comfortable couch, and we can both hold him."
Karl makes a gurgling noise, and Anders reaches down to gently boop Karl's nose. "Exactly. We're going to welcome you the best way we can. By staring at you and counting your little fingers and toes over and over." Another gurgle, and Anders looks up at Nate.
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For now, he loves being a Warden. He isn't sure what he will do if Anders decides to take the cure before he does, but that will be a question long awaiting an answer. Today, there is a different question to settle, one he does not yet realize is waiting to be asked.
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When he gets back from patrol, he finds Nate and wraps his arms around his partner's middle, resting his cheek against Nate's back.
"Guess who," he mumbles.
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"I have no idea," he says dryly, but still twists his head to claim a kiss. He likes this, the familiar and casual adoration. An everyday worship. There is no such thing as less is more here, no light touch or subtlety. They've gone so much of their lives without love that they want to fill it to the brim now.
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"So you'd kiss anyone who hugged you then? Suddenly I feel less special." It's said with clear teasing as he savors the easy moment. If they do this, if Nate's on board, Anders has to share Nate and Nate's kisses. He finds he doesn't mind this.
"Though I could find reason to be more lenient and understanding of someone else getting to hug you." He likes doing this, saying something that Nate won't understand and the archer will turn over and try to figure out before asking what Anders means.
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"Zevran again?" Nathaniel has a hard time thinking of inviting anyone but Zevran into their bed, so he gives Anders a slightly skeptical look. Unless...Anders is doing that thing where he says something completely incomprehensible without a vital bit of information he has yet to divulge. Sneaky bastard.
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"Actually, no. I was..." The grin softens, tones down. Nate probably has a good idea of how much Anders has wished for a child, but Anders doesn't want Nate to feel pressured. this has to be something they're both on board with, 100%. "I was thinking of something a lot more long-term. There's a cure, now. We could have longer lives. We could... We could think about having a family. More of a family."
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And there's a brief, stuttering moment where he looks back at Anders with a squint, unable to stop the question:
"Magic can do that?"
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Magic can do what? He can't follow... unless Nate's asking about one of them actually having the baby.
"What?" It's a different what, now. "No. No, it can't, the organs, the body, no, I mean adopting. An orphan. I can't, we can't... We're men."
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No, there's no way to salvage that. He rubs his face.
"You're free to laugh about that for a minute and a half while I. Think about this."
Because pushing past the dumb question, Nathaniel has done very little of the considering of having children. At first, it was simply a fear of emulating the parenting of his own parents. Then, he was with another man, and it never occurred to him to...do what? Snatch up an unwanted orphan?
That's actually a really, really good idea. If Nathaniel is suited for it.
"I don't--Anders, I'd be a terrible father."
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Meeting with the Priest
"Nathaniel Howe and Anders," the priest says gravely, taking her own chair and setting her aged hands on her knees. "There was a time I would never have imagined hearing either of you out in this circumstance. But you are unusual folk of equally unusual deeds, and your request is most unusual of all. I am willing to hear what you would say to make me consider giving a child to you. I am told you do not want a hand or a servant, but a child to call your own. If that is true, it reveals a great love in your hearts."
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"We, neither of us, had childhoods that were... loving. Where we were precious. But I believe, we believe, that children deserve that. I want to show a child that they matter, that they can still have a family of the heart even if they've not one of blood, because other people showed me that." He'd been out of hope and alone, and one by one they'd shown him he didn't have to be.
The priest listens to his words and nods, still looking solemn before looking over at Nathaniel. "And you? Is he right in what he says for you both?"
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When he looks back at her, his eyes are misty.
"We want to bring that to a child who is like we were--unloved and unwanted."
The priest gives Nathaniel a stern look, briefly, but it is cut with pity. "Don't mistake a child who is given away for a child who is unloved or unwanted. But I know what it is you mean. You cannot have children together, so you will bring love to a child who cannot have parents."
Her head bobs for a moment. She looks at Anders keenly then, face grave.
"You killed children. But I also know that you saved children. I will not say that an equal number of children saved atones for the number of children lost. But there are many who speak for you. There are many who believe you are eager to atone for your wrongs. Would you take a child as a sacred duty, a chance to protect as much life as you once took?"
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"I would. I'd protect and stand by them, support them. They wouldn't simply be loved as my own, they would be my own." Their child, their family, their love. "I know that, that being raised by me could be hard for them. That they'd have to face the terms of who one of their fathers is, and that it..."
That it might not go well. "But I will love them and do my best by them, no matter what the future brings."
She looks a little wry at his words, shifting at her desk. "Would that you though of that before you took so many lives." He doesn't answer. He doesn't have anything to say. She exhales and pulls out a small stack of papers. "I believe you believe your words and that you mean them. While we have a few sisters here that disagree, I'd already come close to a conclusion yesterday, after reading the paperwork you filled out. We have more than we can take care of, which means we're giving you a chance."
If he'd thought his heart pounding before, it has nothing on now.
"Are there any preferences? I can't guarantee we can grant them, but this way you may only view a few and don't get the hopes of too many children up."
"Mage blooded," Anders says without hesitation before looking back at Nate. "They'll have the most trouble finding a home, and whether or not they wind up being a mage, they'll be loved."
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His own heart is pounding. He hadn't hoped to enter here and leave with a child, but somehow it's beginning to seem like a possibility.
The priest does smile now, and give a nod. "That does narrow the possibilities considerably. I believe I know just the child."
Nathaniel's heart slams against his rib cage.
"Unfortunately, it is not yet born. A young girl is due very soon, and her parents do not want the responsibility of a mage-blooded bastard." Her eyes flicker to Anders. "I think, of all people in Thedas, you will see to it that such a child is loved and protected."
Nathaniel looks at Anders, hope in his face, ready to leave this as his call. Maybe their baby hasn't arrived yet, but it could be on the way, and already he wants it more than he thought he could want a child he has not yet met.
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"Yes," he says, holding Nate's hand tight. His father hadn't wanted him, but she'll have two fathers there for her. "That will give us time to set up her room for a newborn and find a wet nurse." He'd figured on them gettin someone a little older, but this changes nothing in his heart. He's ready to give this baby the best home possible.
"When is the expected due date?" Once they have that, they head into town and make the house ready, because this is happening. This is real. He has a man who lives him, who he loves in return, and soon, a child.
The details fall into place far more easily than expected too. The wet nurse is a woman he'd tended to when she'd broken her leg, a family whose children he'd healed of deep chest colds have a spare cradle they don't need anymore, and Nate has contacts there as well.
"We're going to need to start thinking of names," he says with an open smile as the room starts to take shape.
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"Adria for a girl, maybe?" he asks hopefully. "If you wouldn't mind. That's the only name that's really come to my mind."
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New Arrival
"Baby," she wheezes. "The baby's born. You have to come, I guess. Mother Diane is waiting."
She opens her hand as if to receive coin, but Nathaniel is already taking the stairs three at a time and shaking Anders awake.
"Anders. The baby."
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"Ow. Get... Get dressed, I need to heal myself quickly." His hand's already glowing. Generally he likes this ache, likes letting it subside on its own, but right now there's something more important going on. As soon as he's fine walking, though, Anders is throwing on robes and not even bothering with leggings. A moment later he's dashing into the room they have set aside and grabbing blankets - it's night, the baby could be cold - and rejoining Nate.
"Let's go meet our little one." He's nervous. So very nervous. But he's also absolutely happy as he reaches out to take Nate's hand with one of his and close the door behind them with the other.
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There is a chapel in the orphanage. Nathaniel shoves it open to reveal the priest they spoke with, alone in the chapel except for a little bundle in her arms. His vision narrows to her and that bundle, and she smiles at the men.
"You have a son," she says serenely, her face full of joy.
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"Hello, Karl," Anders whispers, turning to show him to Nate as well. "I'm your Dada, and this is your Papa." He feels like he could explode from joy.
"Would you mind taking the blanket and tucking it around him? And then... Then we can take him home." Their baby, who is currently so tiny and wrinkled and perfect.
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"I'll gather the rest of his things and give the two of you a moment," the priest says tactfully, and she vanishes.
"He's perfect," Nathaniel whispers, a blink knocking tears down his cheeks.
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"He is, and he's ours. Our son." Tiny Karl, holding Nate's hand. That's an image he'll never forget. The next kiss is placed on Karl's forehead, who reaches with his other hand for some of the hair Anders had forgotten to tie back.
"Ow," he says for the second time tonight, but this time he's laughing. "He has a good grip, already. That's a good sign, such a good sign." He'll check their son over later, when they're back home. Doing that here might be seen as insulting by the priest, who comes in with a few assorted items, booties, hat, papers. Papers that once they sign, make it official that he's named Karl and that he's theirs.
"Karl Padrick Howe," he tells her and spells it out slowly so she can spell it right. Their Karl.
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The hat is firmly affixed on Karl's head, he is wrapped up in blankets galore, and it is time to go home. A midwife will visit once a day for a time, to make sure Karl is doing well, but otherwise he is wholly and completely theirs.
Karl Padrick Howe.
"He has your nose," he teases softly, but he can see it. As impossible as he knows it to be, he sees Anders in this little boy already.
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"We're not sleeping tonight, are we." How could they? How could they put this little bundle in another room and walk away tonight? "At least we've a comfortable couch, and we can both hold him."
Karl makes a gurgling noise, and Anders reaches down to gently boop Karl's nose. "Exactly. We're going to welcome you the best way we can. By staring at you and counting your little fingers and toes over and over." Another gurgle, and Anders looks up at Nate.
"I think I'm dreaming again, love."
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