I SEE DEM TAGS. IF I HAVE TO BE IN THIS FLUFFY HELLSPIRAL SO DO YOU. I DEMAND SOMETHING WITH RYLEN!!!!!!!
It’s not newborns but LOOK WHAT YOU FUCKING DID @scumbag-solas!!!!
Bit more than a drabble, sorry.
“Okay. One more time, wee Firecracker. What did we learn?”
The baby pushed her dark hair out of her eyes and examined the carnage. Rylen had to bite his lip to keep from grinning at the streak of flour it left across her forehead. This was a very serious matter after all. It wouldn’t do for him to laugh at her.
She screwed up her chubby little face in thought.
“Something about eggs, maybe?” Rylen offered.
Aban’s face brightened and she pointed to the mess of yolk and shells on the counter. “No!”
Rylen smiled at her and nodded.
“You don’t throw them, you bloody sod,” Lessa said suddenly, elbowing her sister aside to deliver Rylen a new egg.
“Lessa! Where the fu—” Rylen caught himself. He supposed it would be inappropriate to admonish swearing with more swearing. “W-where did you learn that?”
Big green eyes turned on him, wide and perfectly innocent. Lessa was five summers now. She was old enough for Rylen to know that “perfectly innocent” was something she hadn’t been for a long time.
“You say it all the time to the soldiers, Daddy.”
He frowned. Maker, he was bloody terrible at this parenting business. All he wanted to do was laugh at Lessa’s high pitched cursing, at her matter-of-fact accusation that he was a bad influence on his own children, but, better not. Oh Andraste’s ass, if Keram ever heard her talk like that…
“Well… It’s not nice. Don’t call your sister that again!” At least not while your mother’s around.
He shook his head at them as he set to work wiping the worst of the ruined egg from the counter.
What an idea this had been. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d thought that letting a baby and a child have the run of the kitchen would be a good idea. They declared that they wanted to make mama cookies, and, who was he to say no? He couldn’t have even if he wanted to…but…that was beside the point! In the end it wouldn’t be so bad, right? They had adult supervision, after all, so what could go wrong?
Rylen sighed and tried in vain to dust all the flour from his hair before he got started baking again.
While the cook was probably going to have his head for the mess the girls were making, Rylen felt it was completely worth it. He was having the time of his life.
He took over mixing when it got too difficult for Lessa’s little arms. He ignored Aban’s tiny fists clenched in his shirt, leaving more egg and flour on his clothing. The washwoman wouldn’t be offering him any thanks for this either, he was sure.
Rylen and Lessa scooped out spoonfuls of dough and placed them on the waiting pan. Though Rylen caught Lessa popping more dough into her mouth than what was making it to the baking sheet, they managed. And as they made neat rows, Aban pulled off the rolls she could reach to squeeze in her fist.
Maker take him, this was bloody difficult.
In exasperation, Rylen knelt to clean the dough out from between Aban’s fingers with a washcloth as best as he could. It would be all he needed for her to eat it all and make herself sick. He’d never hear the bloody end of it from—
“Daddy! It goes in the fire now, right?”
Rylen glanced away from Aban, and did a fucking double take. Lessa held the sheet over her head with shaking arms. It dipped dangerously in front of her face as she stumbled over her feet, teetering closer and closer to the fireplace.
He didn’t fucking think. Rylen scooped Aban up by her middle and ran to Lessa’s side. He yanked the baking sheet out of her hands and threw out his leg to catch her before she stumbled too close to the open flames. Maker’s fucking breath, that could have been a fucking—
Keram bent to cover the girls with kisses as soon as she dismounted her horse. Rylen waited just a moment before her teetered forward too. This was truly his favorite sight, and he would have given anything in the world to watch it play out for just a little longer. He wanted to capture the warmth in his chest, the swelling pride that constricted his heart and made his breath catch. Maker… Anything for moments like these. He’d give anything to watch his wife—the steadfast battlemage of a Qunari who’d sooner gut a man as look at him—smother their children with feather light kisses. He lived for the moments when her gigantic frame was wrapped around a frail body, squeezing Lessa until she squirmed and begged for daddy to save her. And then he would betray her and tickle her until she couldn’t breathe for laughing. Whenever Keram—who he knew first hand could hurl fireballs that scorched the very earth—made small wisps of flame that danced before Aban’s wondering eyes until she tried to grab them. Then it winked out and tiny hands searched a palm three times their size for mama’s magic.
If only he could keep moments like these forever. He was no fool. He knew he would need them one day to look back on. And that day was coming sooner than he’d ever care to admit. The girls grew faster than he could blink—
“—we made you cookies, Mama! A bunch of them!” Lessa was shouting, pulling Rylen from his thoughts. She bounced in excitement and spread her arms out wide to show her mother just how many was “a bunch.”
“You did?” Keram gasped and it only made Lessa’s grin widen.
The wee lass glanced back over her shoulder at him and he saw the wicked glimmer in her eye. Rylen felt a smile spread over his face. Here it came. He should have known better than to trust Lessa with anything. She was nothing but trouble and mischief and now he was going to get it. He laughed in spite of himself.
She pointed back at him. “Yeah, but then Daddy sat on them!”
When Keram looked up at him, he saw it was all she could do to keep from laughing too. She tried so fucking hard to frown at him, the free hand settling on her hip like she was angry, and succeeded only in looking ridiculous herself. Rylen ran a hand over his face and tried not to splutter with more laughter.
“Is that right, kadan? You sat on my cookies?”
“You weren’t supposed to tell her! It was supposed to be our secret, Lessa. You know what happens to tattle-tales?” Rylen took a few menacing steps forward.
Lessa squealed and ran, giggling, around her mother. She hid behind the giantess until all Rylen could see was her devilish face. Maker, he loved the way her nose scrunched when she laughed.
“No, but I know what happens to men who sit on my cookies,” Keram interjected. She grabbed a fistful of Rylen’s shirt and pulled him into a crushing kiss.
What is this? WHAT IS THIS? I CAN’T STOP GRINNING!
