In Which Reg Writes for Dragon Age Again
Just three drabbles/ficlets/drablets/pieces of fiction that are short and filled with syrupy sweetness and fluff.
PAIRING: Alistair/f!Cousland
RATING: G
SUMMARY: Alistair and Elissa doing cute things, as seen through the eyes of other people. May cause your teeth to rot and fall out.
First
Marged slipped quietly into the royal suite just before dawn. She’d tended the fireplaces in the nobles’ suites for nearly five years now, and she prided herself on her ability to do her job quickly and quietly, slipping in and out without disturbing anyone. She added more logs to the fireplace in his sitting room with practiced silence, waiting only long enough to see them catch flame before moving toward the bedroom door.
There, she hesitated. The king and his queen - while she wondered if the Warden was the queen yet, Marged thought it best to consider her such- had only just moved into the royal suite the previous day. Perhaps they were light sleepers. Perhaps they were already up. Perhaps, if they were already up, they were-
Shoving the thoughts from her mind, she brushed aside the heavy tapestry that divided the bedchamber from the rest of the room, and promptly tripped over a pair of bodies.
Smothering her shout of surprise - years of training to be quiet when she entered a noble’s room taking over instantly - she scrambled backwards as the queen, sprawled on the king’s chest and wearing nothing more than a fur blanket, lifted her head.
“I’m so sorry, your Majesty,” she said quickly, lowering her face and staring at the ground.
“Leliana?”
She lifted her gaze. The queen stared at her with a sleepy, baffled expression. Beneath her, the king stirred, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“No, my lady, I’m here to check the fires. I’m sorry for waking you, my lady.”
The queen’s brows drew together. For a long moment, she simply stared. Then she dropped her head to the king’s chest, yawned, and went back to sleep.
The king, on the other hand, gave Marged a sheepish smile. “The bed was too soft,” he explained.
She’d never built up a fire so quickly in her life before fleeing.
Coffee
“Is-is that the queen?”
Ewen looked up from the pot of coffee he was carefully brewing, brows lifted. He followed the new cook’s gaze as the queen, looking bleary-eyed and cross, stumbled into the kitchens in a thick woolen robe and leather boots.
“She’s very informal,” he said by way of explanation. To be fair to the poor girl, he and the rest of the kitchen had reacted much the same way the first time the king and queen came to the kitchens to make their own breakfast. Old habits, the king had said, died hard.
“But…”
The cooking girl stared as the queen trudged up to them both and held out a hand. Ewen took the mug beside the pot and poured coffee into it. He handed it to the queen, and the queen let out a long, satisfied sigh as she brought the mug close and inhaled the scent of the coffee. Then she drifted away, leaving the kitchen the way she came, and the cooking girl continued staring.
“But she’s the queen.”
“She likes her coffee, and the king likes her to have her coffee.” The cooking girl continued to stare. “He says she’s less likely to stick someone with the sharp end of a fork if she has her coffee as early as possible.”
Water
“Cait?”
The girl gestured for Aine to be quiet and then motioned her forward. “Look,” she hissed, stepping away from the cracked door.
Aine hesitated and frowned, adjusting her hold on the linens in her arms. “Aren’t the king and queen bathing? That’s not right, spying on them like that.”
“No, Aine, you need to see this.” Cait dug her fingers into Aine’s sleeve and dragged her before the door.
With a longsuffering sigh, Aine pressed one eye to the crack.
And couldn’t quite believe what she saw on the other side.
The queen rode the king’s shoulders, both of them naked as he waded through the bath water, and she held a little wooden boat in both hands. “Avast!” she shouted. “Foul Orlesians, the might of the Ferelden navy comes against you!”
“Forsooth,” the king agreed, swinging forward. The queen shrieked, tossing her boats aside to wrap her arms around his face, and he, blind, stumbled before falling face first into the water. They both surfaced, sputtering and laughing.
Then he pounced on her, dragging her under the water, and when they came up for air again, they began a water fight, furiously splashing at each other and giggling like school children.
Aine drew back from the door. “King Cailan, Maker look graciously on his soul, and Queen Anora were never like that.”
“No,” Cait agreed. They both spoke in solemn tones, this being the gravest of conversations. “Do you think… they are Wardens.”
Aine glanced nervously down the hall and leaned closer, whispering. “Maybe being a Warden makes you a bit insane?”
Clearly, insanity was the only explanation.
PAIRING: Alistair/f!Cousland
RATING: G
SUMMARY: Alistair and Elissa doing cute things, as seen through the eyes of other people. May cause your teeth to rot and fall out.
First
Marged slipped quietly into the royal suite just before dawn. She’d tended the fireplaces in the nobles’ suites for nearly five years now, and she prided herself on her ability to do her job quickly and quietly, slipping in and out without disturbing anyone. She added more logs to the fireplace in his sitting room with practiced silence, waiting only long enough to see them catch flame before moving toward the bedroom door.
There, she hesitated. The king and his queen - while she wondered if the Warden was the queen yet, Marged thought it best to consider her such- had only just moved into the royal suite the previous day. Perhaps they were light sleepers. Perhaps they were already up. Perhaps, if they were already up, they were-
Shoving the thoughts from her mind, she brushed aside the heavy tapestry that divided the bedchamber from the rest of the room, and promptly tripped over a pair of bodies.
Smothering her shout of surprise - years of training to be quiet when she entered a noble’s room taking over instantly - she scrambled backwards as the queen, sprawled on the king’s chest and wearing nothing more than a fur blanket, lifted her head.
“I’m so sorry, your Majesty,” she said quickly, lowering her face and staring at the ground.
“Leliana?”
She lifted her gaze. The queen stared at her with a sleepy, baffled expression. Beneath her, the king stirred, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“No, my lady, I’m here to check the fires. I’m sorry for waking you, my lady.”
The queen’s brows drew together. For a long moment, she simply stared. Then she dropped her head to the king’s chest, yawned, and went back to sleep.
The king, on the other hand, gave Marged a sheepish smile. “The bed was too soft,” he explained.
She’d never built up a fire so quickly in her life before fleeing.
Coffee
“Is-is that the queen?”
Ewen looked up from the pot of coffee he was carefully brewing, brows lifted. He followed the new cook’s gaze as the queen, looking bleary-eyed and cross, stumbled into the kitchens in a thick woolen robe and leather boots.
“She’s very informal,” he said by way of explanation. To be fair to the poor girl, he and the rest of the kitchen had reacted much the same way the first time the king and queen came to the kitchens to make their own breakfast. Old habits, the king had said, died hard.
“But…”
The cooking girl stared as the queen trudged up to them both and held out a hand. Ewen took the mug beside the pot and poured coffee into it. He handed it to the queen, and the queen let out a long, satisfied sigh as she brought the mug close and inhaled the scent of the coffee. Then she drifted away, leaving the kitchen the way she came, and the cooking girl continued staring.
“But she’s the queen.”
“She likes her coffee, and the king likes her to have her coffee.” The cooking girl continued to stare. “He says she’s less likely to stick someone with the sharp end of a fork if she has her coffee as early as possible.”
Water
“Cait?”
The girl gestured for Aine to be quiet and then motioned her forward. “Look,” she hissed, stepping away from the cracked door.
Aine hesitated and frowned, adjusting her hold on the linens in her arms. “Aren’t the king and queen bathing? That’s not right, spying on them like that.”
“No, Aine, you need to see this.” Cait dug her fingers into Aine’s sleeve and dragged her before the door.
With a longsuffering sigh, Aine pressed one eye to the crack.
And couldn’t quite believe what she saw on the other side.
The queen rode the king’s shoulders, both of them naked as he waded through the bath water, and she held a little wooden boat in both hands. “Avast!” she shouted. “Foul Orlesians, the might of the Ferelden navy comes against you!”
“Forsooth,” the king agreed, swinging forward. The queen shrieked, tossing her boats aside to wrap her arms around his face, and he, blind, stumbled before falling face first into the water. They both surfaced, sputtering and laughing.
Then he pounced on her, dragging her under the water, and when they came up for air again, they began a water fight, furiously splashing at each other and giggling like school children.
Aine drew back from the door. “King Cailan, Maker look graciously on his soul, and Queen Anora were never like that.”
“No,” Cait agreed. They both spoke in solemn tones, this being the gravest of conversations. “Do you think… they are Wardens.”
Aine glanced nervously down the hall and leaned closer, whispering. “Maybe being a Warden makes you a bit insane?”
Clearly, insanity was the only explanation.