I thought it would be a good idea to bring an ex-super spy to the murder mystery ball, but all he did was eat all the cheese dip while blatantly ignoring the blood stains on the floor right in front of him.
I see your Cute Dragon Age Dads Letting Daughters Braid Their Hair headcanons, and I raise you Cute Dragon Age Dads Teaching Their Daughters to Be Badasses headcanons:
Alistair taking her to important meetings, breaking down the talking points for her, asking for her opinion. Helping her to be fair minded in a heavily prejudiced world. Showing her it’s ok to make mistakes, that even the End of the World might not be the end of the world.
Zevran teaching her how to pick locks, how to disappear, how to stay in control of every interaction, but also how to know when to let go. Making sure she knows that she is her own person, that she doesn’t owe anyone anything, but also how to know when she’s found a just cause, a worthy ally, a friend.
Fenris taking her on little quests, only the safe ones at first, but tougher ones as she learns and ages. Teaching her to observe power dynamics, how to tell when an innocent is overpowered and needs help. The importance of being brave, for her own sake and others.
Anders with a mage child, determined that she will learn to use and control her power without the Circle. Guiding her through the dangers of the Fade, making sure she never feels the guilt of accidental destruction.
Sebastian bringing her in to see petitioners and diplomats. Showing her how to lead by example, the importance of listening, courtesy, compassion. Showing her that sometimes kindness is the fastest way to reach a person. Giving her a little bow so she can practice like daddy, looking forward to the day he can pass his grandfather’s bow on to her.
Cullen giving her a wooden sword and shield when she asks to train like daddy and taking her out for lessons every morning. Taking her into the war room to teach her strategy, asking her for more and more input as she learns. Teaching her that it’s ok to question, that quitting isn’t the same as failing, that it’s ok to try a new path.
Blackwall making sure she knows the importance of standing up for others, of standing up for herself. Teaching her the value of saying “no” when something feels wrong. Building her up so she will feel confident enough to do it when the time comes.
Iron Bull letting her run wild at first, a fierce, grubby warrior with a pointy stick. As she grows, showing her how to control her strength for greater impact, how to spot weaknesses, how to honor a worthy foe. The value of a challenge.
Solas meeting her in her dreams. Introducing her to his friends there, raising her with a new perspective on the world, one without the prejudices of those who fear the Fade. Teaching her to approach both spirits and people as individuals, to give them the benefit of trying to understand them as they are.
Dorian showing her the importance of trust, loyalty, friendship. Letting her flip through “safe” books when she’s little, but showing her tougher, more important works as she grows. Asking for her help when he’s researching, proving to her that her presence, her thoughts, her perspectives are important.
DLC idea: You play as the Warden trying find a cure for the Blight. Your companions are Shianni, Gorim, Jowan, and a giant battle nug named Schmooples the Great. You pick up Velanna, Sigrun, and Shale along the way. Zevran is there too, of course.
An army of empty ink bottles rolled and clinked underfoot as he pulled the desk chair out and sat down upon it. The wooden seat had been made more comfortable with a pile of pillows stolen from his bed; when you weren’t sleeping you didn’t need to keep them on top of the sheets.
The door to the cozy chamber remained unlatched; no one would try to enter. They knew to not bother him, to not attempt to hasten his metamorphosis, that he would emerge from his lair of paper and ink in his own time. For now, he wrote. Any scrap of paper that was laying around became conscripted to his cause, covered in coal colored ink. The writing scrawled across the parchment was messy and peppered with blotches and spots where he hadn’t been careful with dripping ink.
His sleeves were tied up to his elbows. He didn’t need to smear anything and make the hasty writing any more illegible than it already was. He did need to get it down, needed to write everything down, every thought, every memory. How her hair looked when it was freshly washed and drying around her shoulders, how it looked when she woke up in the morning and it resembled a haystack, how it looked when she was covered in blood and sweat.
Already, she was slipping away. Even as he wrote and scrambled to get down every detail and memory, her edges were turning to fog and melting away in his mind. What did the edge of her mouth look like, again? He couldn’t remember it. He couldn’t remember precisely how her hair fell when she was looking down, either, and he couldn’t remember the jagged edges of her birthmark exactly.
Still, he wrote on, trying to get everything as closely to the truth as possible, a new practice for him. He would not exaggerate. He wouldn’t sully her memories with little lies made to make someone seem more heroic. She didn’t need any of that junk, she had never needed any of that junk.
His fingers were covered in black ink, his clothes ruined with spatters that would never come off. Varric couldn’t resurrect Hawke. But he could make damn sure that she lives forever.
Warnings: Oral sex and sexual content under the cut.
Rolling over, Elora yawned and snuggled down into the bedding. The blankets were warm and toasty around her, a delicious side effect of sharing a bed with a human furnace. Her lips curled upward at the thought of her lover and she felt all the little aches in her body throb in the most delicious way possible. It hadn’t happened often before but he hadn’t been there when she’d returned to Skyhold a few days ago, a mission having arisen that had asked for him by name to handle. He had gotten back late yesterday, well past dark, so she had already been in bed. His this time because it was easier to pretend he was there when she was surrounded by his scent and she had woken up as he had climbed up the ladder, the heavy thumps of his feet the greatest thing she had heard all day.
He’d been more than pleased to see her sitting on his bed when he’d made it to the top of the ladder. They had barely gotten his clothes off before they were back in bed, his mouth and hands all over her as if he hadn’t seen her in years, instead of only days. They hadn’t gone to sleep any time soon after his return, having their own, private welcome back celebration.
Honestly she was surprised either of them had gone to sleep at all.
Feeling more than rested enough for an early morning repeat of last night, she reached through the blankets. A frown crossed her face when her seeking hand didn’t find the warm person she was expecting. “Cullen?” she mumbled sleepily.
She heard the shift of a body in armour then the bed was dipping as he knelt on it. Her eyes fluttered open to see him and she almost wished she hadn’t. The early morning light was shining through the open space above him, making his hair look like molten gold. It picked up on the red in the fur of his mantle and shone briefly on his armour to give him even more of a glow. Honestly, what right did the man have to be so gorgeous when she wasn’t awake enough to shield against him? But it was the soft look on his face that had her toes curling. “I didn’t mean to wake you, love,” he said quietly, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.
“You didn’t,” she sighed, kissing his fingers when they got close to her mouth. “But why are you up so early? You just got back.”
He made a slight face. “Cassandra wanted to speak with me when I returned. It was too late last night so we agreed on this morning.”
With the damn sunrise? “Well, the Inquisitor wants you to get back into bed,” she countered.