The midday sun strokes
his back, bathing the room in a cone of white warmth. Complete silence is
broken only by his own breath and that of the sleeping bundle in his arms, barely
the weight of a medium-size cheese wheel.
Alistair sighs, smiling
as he takes in all those tiny features for the umpteenth time- the nose, absolutely
his no matter what she might say; a mouth that’s curved into the most blissful
little smile; eyes that lie closed, adorned by the longest, thickest lashes.
He’s still getting used
to having these moments- just him and the baby, quiet cuddles and stolen kisses
while Mama rests.
Then it strikes him, and
he chuckles to himself. He voices his thoughts, sharing them as has become his
habit.
“You know,” a quick peck
on a shockingly soft cheek before he continues, “I never thought I’d be a
father.” It’s true. Between the Taint, duty and everything fate, the Maker and
Thedas had thrown at them, fatherhood was the last thing he’d dared to hope
for. What he’s holding now came as the most blessed surprise, the truest
testament to their love. “Yet here you are, asleep in my arms.” Giddy
incredulity has him whispering, carefully pronouncing every hushed syllable.
The longer he stares at this child, at these eight dainty pounds of utter
perfection, the more does he expect to be ripped from the Fade’s grasp any
minute.
Alistair considers pinching
his arm to be sure this is indeed real, not some lonely dream he’ll cruelly
wake from. He doesn’t have to, because that very instant a teeny, sleeping hand
scrapes at his wrist, leaving the sharpest, sweetest pain from those
razor-sharp nails.
A glance at the red mark
then back at the angelic face before him, and a sudden burst of emotion
constricts in his chest, rising hot into his throat, his face. On its own
accord Alistair’s palm begins rubbing circles into the plump belly he could
tickle and caress for hours.
He allows his chin to
graze that softest, fluffiest tuft of ginger hair, his shoulders shaking with
quiet sobs.
When he recovers his
voice it’s thick with awe, with an affection stronger than anything he’s ever
felt in his life.
“I love you with all my
heart.”
Happy Fathers’ Day!
Yes, I’d love you to reblog this provided you liked it ^__^
you know what’s really cute? before the last battle, when fenris kisses hawke and it looks like he needs to be on his tip-toes to reach him. also how much bigger in general hawke looks when he holds him. and how fenris just throws his arms around his neck. i just really love that scene!!
Rosslyn stood in the doorway of her small apartment,
shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she pulled the loose ends of
her dressing gown tighter over her pyjamas. “No, err…”
But Alistair had already seen the tight lines around her
eyes, the faint grimace at the corner of her mouth. “Are you alright?”
“Cramps.” She shrugged. “They’ve been bad all day, and just…”
She trailed off, giving him an apologetic look. “I don’t think I’m up for movie
night tonight.”
“Is there anything you need?” He took a hesitant step
towards her, instinctively reaching out to offer comfort. “Anything I can get
you?”
“I’m well provisioned,” she replied with a shy smile. “If
you wouldn’t mind staying, we could make it a couch potato movie night? Though I’ll
warn you now I probably won’t be very good company.”
Accepting her invitation, he stepped over the threshold and
caught her chin in a gentle, calloused hand. “You’re always good company,” he
told her with a quick kiss to her forehead. “Besides, it’ll be much easier to
cuddle here than it would me in a crowded cinema with people giving us dirty
looks.”
“They wouldn’t do that if someone didn’t talk during the trailers.”
“I can’t help it if I have Opinions,” he teased, letting
himself be guided down so she could press a proper greeting to his lips. When
her arms smoothed down around his waist he leaned into the embrace, lending her
his warmth through the unsteadiness he could feel in her limbs. The painkillers
must not have kicked in yet.
“Go and pick a movie, O Judgemental One,” she murmured into
his neck as she finally pulled away. I’ll get the snacks.”
He squeezed her hand. “Sounds good.”
She had barely opened the first of her cupboards to look for
popcorn when Alistair poked his head around the door.
“How long are you going to be in here?”
Rosslyn chuckled. “You can’t be that hungry.”
“Nooooo,” he chided, hand on heart as if she’d dealt him a
mortal blow. “I had an idea. For a surprise. But it’s going to take a bit of
time so, uh, no rush, alright?”
“A surprise?” she checked.
“No peeking!”
Before she could even open her mouth to protest, his head
disappeared from view and she was left nonplussed in the middle of her kitchen
while various faint sounds of banging and falling objects came to her through the
wall. Part of her wanted to follow him, to see exactly what her boyfriend was
up to, but she stayed the impulse. There had been that glint in his eye, and
the grin he only got when he was excited and wanting to share a new discovery –
like the little Anitvan restaurant out of the market district or the fledgling
that he’d manage to catch when it had flown in through his window – and it made
her stomach flutter just a little bit, and forget the gnawing pain in her
abdomen.
“You’d better not be destroying my stuff.”
“Have faith, woman!” he laughed from her living room.
With an indulgent roll of her eyes, she turned her attention
back to the cupboard that contained the unopened box of microwave popcorn
Cassandra had given her when she moved in.
The popcorn was in a bowl, with a bag of cheese puffs and a
selection box of chocolates on the side, when Alistair emerged.
“Finished!” he declared proudly. “Would you like to see?”
“You’re in pyjamas.” She didn’t realise he even kept a set
of sleep clothes at her apartment, having proved the first few times he stayed
over that night-time attire only got in the way.
He grinned at her. “Of course. Proper dress code should be
observed on such occasions.”
“What occasion?”
He beamed wider and dropped into a low bow like an
old-fashioned knight of the court, inviting her through the doorway with avid
eyes to watch her reaction.
She stopped, stunned into silence at the transformation of
the space. Here and there, underneath it all, she recognised elements of
furniture or decoration – the throw she used to keep her feet warm when the
heating broke, the clothes airier for when rain lashed against her balcony, the
spare sheet from her linen cupboard held on with the bulldog clips Zevran had
stolen for her in a fit of spite from Anora’s office. Altogether, however, they
formed a ramshackle tent with elegant lines that reminded Rosslyn of the ones
she had seen in pictures of Rivaini nomads, though admittedly it lacked the skilled
construction of a traditional beit.
The entrance was directly in front of her, a spare towel
draped between the pillars of two sturdy breakfast stools that let her get a
peek at the warm glow of the interior.
“I’ve never, uh, made one of these before, actually,”
Alistair said suddenly, to fill the quiet. She turned and found him running a
hand through his hair, a faint pink stain growing on his cheeks. “I hope it’s
alright?”
She reached for his hand. “It’s perfect.”
“I’ll remember you said that when it inevitably collapses on
top of us.”
“Can I go in?”
At a gesture, Rosslyn bent to life the doorflap and crawled
her way inside. Her eyes was drawn everywhere at once. Her TV had been taken
down from its perch and now stood in one corner, opposite a pile the contained
her duvet, pillows, and what seemed like every spare cushion and blanket he had
been able to find. The amp from her bedside table had been employed to light
the space, but because it was directed down at the carpet, it gave the inside
of the blanket fort a soft, muted atmosphere that brought a smile to her lips.
“You are quite the architect,” she said as he crawled in
after her. “It’s been years since I was in one of these. Fergus and I used to
make them all the time – it drove Nan wild.”
“I thought it might help cheer you up.” He leaned in and
caught her temple with a kiss. “Now, get snuggled under all those conveniently
placed blankets and tell me which movie you want to watch first.”
Chuckling, Rosslyn did as she was told, making sure to fluff
up the pillows and arrange the space big enough for two people to lounge
comfortably in the space, then wrapped herself in her duvet while Alistair
bustled at the other end of the fort, prodding her archaic DVD player into
life. When it finally decided to cooperate, he passed her the remote and
shuffled over, snatching a corner of her duvet so he could wriggle under and
coax her into his lap. When they finally settled, unable to resist being so
close, the movie’s first scene was already playing, but it was an old favourite
so they didn’t mind. Rosslyn tucked herself up against her boyfriend’s
shoulder, pulling his arms around her like an extra layer as she drew her legs
in to seal in the heat and drive away the cramps.
Alistair chuckled as she fussed. “Comfortable yet?”
“Just about – shit.”
“What?”
She dropped her head against his neck with a groan. “The
snacks are still in the kitchen.”
Mayerine 