Dragon Age One Shots

Mummy Cassandra

Cassandra's path did not waver as she pursued her target, her mind set, her heart pure. When her quarry turned the corner, she followed...and took a filthy tunic to the face. Sneering, she added the laundry to a growing pile by the hearth. Cassandra glared up and down the child. "Where is your helmet?"

"Don't need it," the girl insisted. No, she was to be referred to as a young lady now at her own flesh and blood's insistence. Ha! Cassandra bore that child for nearly ten and a half months. For that punishment, she could call her daughter a child until she was thirty-seven.

"Yes you do," Cassandra thundered. "What if you fall? Hit your head? What will protect your brains from being scattered across the grounds?" She folded her finger against her thumb and flicked against her daughter's un-splattered forehead.

The young lady crossed her eyes, trying to follow her mother's finger before a familiar snarl rose. "It's fine, Mum. Stop worrying." Her only child dove headfirst into a massive pile of unfolded laundry, hunting for something of importance.

It was Cassandra who folded her arms tight, glaring down at the girl. "Armaments. Have you secured them? Your armor, is it padded well? Last thing any warrior wants is to have their backplate pinch in the midst of a battle."

"Mu-um," her daughter popped up to her feet, a flimsy piece of silk in her hands. "It's a dance, not a battle." She knotted it around her waist, emphasizing the...sigh...dress her daughter hand selected in Val Royeaux. A dance. Her first ball, none the less. Cassandra was less than pleased with the boys suddenly appearing on their doorstep as potential escorts. She insisted each prove himself worthy in a contest of arms and found all lacking. In the end, she gave into her daughter's pleading that 'It didn't matter. Just let someone do it.'

The boy was of simple stock, but he carried his weight well, and seemed difficult to knock from a horse. That would serve her well should bandits arrive.

Her daughter busied herself in the mirror, every pigment in their house at her disposal. After fluffing the dark braids circling around the back of her head, she turned away to ask her mother. "How do I look?"

Like my baby who's suddenly decided to become a woman overnight.

Cassandra snatched up one of the roses left in a vase by her love. As she slid it behind her daughter's ear, finishing off the ensemble, she said, "Like you can take on thedas itself."

Her daughter rolled her eyes, "You always say that."

"Because it's always true."