I found an old one-shot I wrote about the first time Tamaerci slayed a dragon and accidentally adopted its’ egg.
Something calls to her, some ancient song in the dragon's blood. The Abyssal High Dragon is a frightening sight even now, slumped across the desert, dead, her fire not quite extinguished. The aftertaste of the party's last healing potion is still on Tamaerci's tongue, her companions are groaning and picking themselves off the ground. Cole spits blood in the sand, Dorian heals himself of a particularly nasty burn, and somehow Varric's chest hair is only slightly singed. This isn't regret, she decides, though she didn't bait the dragon with the intent to kill. This is something different, deeper, more potent than her lost memories - a nostalgia for something she never knew. 'Tis music she hears in her chest, not her head. she approaches, reverently placing her hand flat against the beast's snout. The boys are recovered enough to start the bloody work of looting the corpse. Dorian pries away the best scales, Varric searches for salvage that the dragon may have swallowed, and Cole cuts swaths of webbing from the wings. She should help them. Fingers trailing over skin and scale, she walks the to the base of the tail and unsheathes her knives. The skin is softest here, and she cuts down into the fat of the belly. Her blades slide easily, but she goes slowly, until the tip of one dagger finds its' mark. Minutes later, she no longer feels the pull. An egg, gently delivered from the dragon's clutch, blisters her hands, so she wraps it in druffalo wool and stows it in her pack. The others don't notice her odd prize. In fact, no one will notice until the Inquisitor is followed downstairs by a groggy dragonling a few weeks later at Skyhold.
