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Necessity has her waking in the middle of the night, feet carrying her to the bathroom when her mind is still somewhere in dreams that are soft and warm. She has never been one to laze about in repose when so much can be accomplished with eyes open, but lately has been hoarding away hours like chestnuts in cheeks for the coming months promise to offer many broken nights and long days.
Curiosity has her pausing at the foot of the bed as she returns, for the gentle moonlight reveals it is empty, the sheets on the other side pulled up so his absence would not wake her. It is easy enough to guess where the night has taken him. There is only one thing as of late that demands his attention more than the caress of the Fade and yet that is where she finds him when she slips down the hall and into the room at the end. He’s fallen asleep on the floor propped up against the ornate rocking chair Vivienne sent them. A palette of dried colors rests half in his lap, a paintbrush perched precariously behind an ear, and she breathes out a sigh that is equally amused as it is exasperated.
For the moment he’s left to rest as she turns her attention to the artwork that has consumed him. A sturdy tree springs up in the middle of the wall, spreading branches full of vibrant leaves and splitting the scene between night and day. A moon and starlight cast their calming glow upon animals of the dark - an owl perched high, a badger in its burrow, a mouse and fox playing tag, a frog singing upon its lily pad. In contrast the right side blooms into daytime, bright and welcoming. A hawk soars with the sun, a halla grazes with vines around its antlers, rabbits hop in fields of clover while a great bear scratches against a log and squirrels have conversations across branches. There are wolves too, as there always are - a white one to frolic and play in dreams, a black one to watch and guard over every day.
She carefully bends down and takes the palette from his lap, plucks the brush from his ear. “Solas.”
He startles awake at her voice, a hand coming to his face that smears half dried blue across his cheek, and she laughs at the sight and his bleary confusion. When he wakes enough to realize his state, a self-indulgent grin pulls his lips upward. “I seem to have fallen asleep.”
There is no point in chastising his behavior for this is uncharted waters for them both, a new world made by their hands and yet neither have control of the outcome, and they have their own ways of coping with unknowns. Instead, she nods towards the mural while he wipes his face clean. “It’s beautiful. Is it finished?”
“Nearly.” Solas lifts his hand, fingers hovering above the trunk of the tree. “I thought perhaps we might mark their growth against the bark.”
The thought of little tallies rising up the wall flashes before her, of tiny toes tapping in opposition of being made to stand still, of excited breaths held awaiting the outcome, even of eyes rolling at childish traditions. “I like the idea.”
Together they gaze silently at the artwork for a few moments, thoughts swirling around what is not pictured but is at the center of it all, a future neither intended but now is something wanted, welcomed with expectant hearts even before it begins. “You should return to bed, vhenan,” he says eventually.
“As should you.” He looks between her rounded stomach and the mural, eyes taking on a panicked sheen muted but understood, the desire to do what they can to prepare as the day grows ever closer, to manage a few steadying breaths before the first one is heard. “Fine. Stay as long as you wish.”
With another sigh she begins to rise, taking her time and wobbling a bit for added effect, and he is quick to leap up and help her. She hides a victorious grin from his sight as her plan sees him escorting her back to the bedroom with that concerned line between his brows that eases the further they walk, and she feels no remorse when he’s already halfway between the sheets before realizing what she’s done. There is no anger, however, only deep laughter pressed into her temple, a relief he lets her feel in the release of limbs against her.
“Your abilities at persuasion will serve us well in the future, I hope,” he whispers, hand pressed to her stomach like so often before they fall asleep. “And I am looking forward to those talents being utilized against someone else for once.”
“What if it’s an inherited trait? You could be stuck with two of us.”
He laughs again, leaves a kiss against her neck this time. “I would not consider such a thing a burden. Goodnight, vhenan.”
“Goodnight.”