Rolan x Reader
↬ Warnings: afab!reader, she/her pronouns for reader, mentions of breastfeeding and some old coot being uppity about it, protective!Rolan
↬ This is the brain rot result of @drizztdohurtin and I discussing proective!Rolan. Hope y'all enjoy, Rolan Nation. Love y'all. ♡
Sorcerous Sundries was thronged with customers, and it seemed every one of them had a question they only wished to ask the Master of the Tower himself. Rolan did well with maintaining his pleasant demeanor, even after he finished speaking to the third person in a row who struggled with the somatic components of simple spells. Regardless of how trivial the questions, or how dense the customers, Rolan thoroughly enjoyed his job. After all, this was everything he'd dreamed of, and more.
The company he kept in the shop area of the Sundries on this particular day helped as well.
Naturally, the brief moment to himself was snatched away by a customer approaching Rolan – albeit looking considerably more agitated than the others, but not a sight he was unfamiliar with.
Ah, the joys of customer service.
“I'd like to speak with the manager of this establishment,” the middle-aged woman stated, the deep frown set upon her features making her wrinkles all the more noticeable.
“You're looking at him. How might I assist you?” Rolan asked calmly, giving her the same kind smile he gives everyone in the Sundries.
“I have been here many times over the past few decades, and never before have I had any concerns about the atmosphere or decorum. Until today. And I must say, I am downright appalled.”
Rolan's smile faded. Gods, had Cal or Lia gotten cross with a rude customer and swore at them? Or maybe something simpler – like one of the newer employees guided her in the wrong direction?
“I am grateful you have come to me about this, so that I have the opportunity to right whatever wrong has occurred. Could you tell me more about what happened?” Rolan asked sincerely.
“Yes. I simply cannot believe the indecency you would allow in a place of such esteemed business. For the sake of the gods, that – that harlot over there is lounging about, exposed.”
Rolan's brows furrowed in genuine confusion, as he swiveled his entire body around to examine the space. The only person seated, on the entire ground floor, was you. His wife. Who just so happened to be breastfeeding his son.
You smiled at him when you caught his eye, confused when he did not return it. Instead, your husband's expression soured, before he returned his attention to the woman in front of him.
“Are you referring to the woman on the settee, feeding her baby?”
“Why, yes I am. That is indecent. She should be covered up, or in a washroom. Or, better yet, she should have left and gone home to do that!”
“She is here because this is her home,” Rolan said, slowly and carefully, attempting to conceal the intense irritation he felt. The woman appeared confused, until Rolan spoke again. “Ignoring the fact that she is the Hero of Baldur's Gate, and you should show her due respect – she is my wife, and she is feeding my son. I hardly see how that is indecent.”
“Well, she – it – that isn't something she should be doing in public! You ought to tell her to go elsewhere,” the woman sputtered, crossing her arms.
“The only person I'll be telling to go elsewhere is you, madam.” The woman sputtered some more, alternating between halved arguments and requests for forgiveness, but Rolan merely held up a hand, effectively silencing her. “Please leave this establishment at once. Should you wish to return with a kinder demeanor, you are welcome here. If not, do not bother coming back. Have the day the gods see fit to bestow upon you.”
Rolan turned on his heel and walked away then, noticing the woman huffing but leaving from his peripheral vision, as he made his way over to you. He sat beside you on the settee, a beaming smile quickly replacing his scowl as you handed him the baby, having just finished feeding and burping him.
“What was all that about? That woman looked positively irate,” you inquired with a chuckle.
Rolan merely shook his head, placing a gentle kiss between the still-tiny nubs of his son's horns, then giving you a quick kiss.
“Nothing of importance, my love.”