Dragon Age One Shots

Daddy Zevran

When a grunting rose from his son laying upon the rug behind, Zevran sighed. "There will be filthy pants in my future," he predicted, head bent lower into his work. He lost himself in it, even while waiting for the tell-tale scent that he needed to grab a fresh nappy.

When a pair of chubby fingers slapped against the desk, Zev sat up so fast he nearly sent his chair flying to the wall. "Wha...?" he gulped, staring wildly at the baby standing on his own two legs. "You can get up on your own? Since when?"

His son, ever the conversationalist, babbled so fast drool spilled down his chin. Zev frowned, scratching the back of his neck in thought. He'd been absent while on work as of late, but the last he knew his son couldn't even rise to his feet without a hand, never mind...

With his hands for guidance, the baby of the house began to pat along the desk. Zev's heart swelled at the sight, how fast they grew without an eye watching. Then he caught the glint of a dagger his son's trusting hands were heading for. Anxiety thundering through him, he leaped to his feet and snatched up the blade.

Unperturbed, the boy kept moving on. His waddling legs grew in strength, the child sidling with a bounce in his bottom towards a small side table... Where Zevran kept his poisons!

Dagger in hand, Zev rushed to swoop up the decanter as the table wobbled from his son's playful force. Bright eyes stared up at him, a smile stretching clear across the baby's face at his father dancing upon his toes. Poison and dagger in hand, Zevran pulled in a breath. There was nowhere else for his boy to move now.

"You are quite the..." Zev began, when those wobbling feet spun and his son -- without any assistance from the furniture -- dashed across the floor. He didn't have time to admire his son going from walking to running, however. "The fire!"

He dropped everything from his arms, the glass shattering as he chased after his son. The babe ran without a care, giggling as both hands wiggled for the flames licking up the fireplace. Snatching up the blanket, Zev quickly snared his running son in its folds.

The chubby arms tried to move for freedom, but he swaddled that wayward baby in a second until only the giggling eyes and drooling smile peeked out. "Why is everything in this home so dangerous!" Zev cried, his eyes darting around the dozens of blades left haphazardly in his office without care. The dangerous fires his boy could fall into. The tonics and mixtures one so young could poison himself with.

Snuggling his son tight in his arms, the now ambulatory limbs writhing from below the blanket, Zevran swore to his boy. "You are not leaving that blanket until you are thirty."

An ornery giggle erupted from the child, forever cementing in Zev's head his parentage. When those deep brown eyes winked, his son pulled his arms in tight and slipped clean out of the father's arms. Before Zev could catch a breath, those toddler legs were already rushing for the stairs.

"Maker save me," Zevran gasped, chasing after his son to protect him for the next ten decades.