Dragn

The baby saga

"Varric! Quick I need you to take this—" the Inquisitor calls from outside of his tent. Varric scrambles to his feet and is out of the tent in seconds. Before he can register what's happened the Inquisitor hands him something and slings their weapon over their back.

"Just keep safe till I get back, I won't be long," they insist, tightening a few belts, "couple of raiders flooded the area who must've missed the 'protected by the inquisition' signs."

Before they can actually take off running though Varric gets a look at what he'd been handed.

"No! No way hold on," he reaches one hand out to grab their's, "you can't just dump a whole baby on me with no warning what in the Maker's name."

But he doesn't get the decency of the inquisitor taking back the child, or offering some sort of explanation. He doesn't get any decency at all, the bastard.

"It would be a problem if I gave you a half of a baby," they smile, patting him on the shoulder, "I'll be back in a few hours tops, probably less, good luck!"

Varric groans. No sooner than the Inquisitor is out of sight the bundle in his arms starts to hiccup in warning of further distress. It seems he doesn't have a choice. Curling his arm around it Varric sits on one of the scattered tree stumps, gently wiping the moisture from it's face with his thumb.

"Alright little one, c'mon you're okay," almost as if second nature he bounces his leg to try and soothe it, "how about I tell you about the battle of Kirkwall. Hardly appropriate for your tiny ears but I'm taken to extravagant lies so I don't think you've got anything to worry about."