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“Zevran,” Erina whispered, elbowing her partner in the gut, “Shiana is crying.”
“She needs a breast, not her father,” Zevran grunted, rolling to the other side so his back faced her. “Sadly that means you are required. More’s the pity.”
“I hate you.”
“I love you, too, darling.”
“I’m just not sure it’s a great idea, that’s all,” Erina sighed.
Zevran scoffed “We are both the best-trained rogues in Denerim! What better idea could ever exist?”
“What if she wants to be a warrior? What if she’s a mage?”
“Well, we begin her training, and if she starts turning invisible and summoning demons, or wanting to hunt mages for a professional career, we will take her to the Circle or to Alistair for her training, no? It seems she would be better off with two disciplines than one.”
Erina shook her head. “I just don’t want to pick her path for her, Zev.”
They both looked down at the bassinet where their 6 month old daughter lay sleeping.
“If your mother had not taken time to show you the way of the knife, would you be where you are?”
She clenched her jaw, glaring at her partner. “That’s a damned low blow, but you’re right. I just… let’s not box her in.”
“I would never dream of limiting our daughter’s potential, Erina. I would just like to share my training with her, when the time is right.”
Erina put her arm through the crook of Zevran’s and leaned her cheek against his shoulder. “I know. I trust you. I guess I just don’t like thinking of my baby in the kind of fights that I’ve had.”
Zevran chuckled, leaning his head against hers. “You think that is bad? Imagine my pain when I realize she will be having sex eventually. It will be fantastic and she will be well-educated, but I will have to kill so many people. I am exhausted already!”
“Zevran,” Erina said quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Never talk about our infant daughter’s sex life again.”
“Fair enough.”
Zevran closed the door behind himself as he entered the house he shared with Erina, releasing the grip he had on Shiana’s hand only after the door shut. The three year old giggled and ran forward into the house, immediately seeking the leg of her mother who stood in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for their dinner.
Erina laid down her knife and placed one hand on Shy’s head. The girl wore her strawberry blonde hair in pigtails that day, her father’s doing.
“Hey, you,” she said warmly. “How was the market?”
“Daddy got me a present!” Shy announced happily.
“Yeah?” Erina cast a glance at Zevran, who looked as though he had been caught in the sights of a row of archers. “What’d he get you?”
“He told me not to tell!”
“Hmm,” Erina raised an eyebrow, still staring at her partner. He was backing slowly toward the bedroom. “So why are you telling me?”
As she looked back down at Shy, she saw her daughter’s eyes go wide with horror. Tears began welling in her hazel eyes, and her lower lip began to quiver.
“Uh oh,” Shy whined. “I’m sorry!” she looked back at Zevran, in a slight panic.
Erina crossed her arms over her chest, enjoying the sight of Zevran squirming, but not the sight of her daughter’s worry.
Zevran set the bags from the market down and approached, settling onto one knee in front of Shiana. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her close to his chest. “It is fine, my beloved. Please do not cry; you have not harmed me.”
Shy sniffled against him, but pulled back and nodded. “Okay. Can I go play?”
“Of course,” he grinned at her. “I will be with you shortly, but I must speak to your mother first.”
“Kay!” The little girl appeared to have never been on the verge of tears. She ran from the kitchen into her room, where stuffed toys lay ready for her to engage with.
“What’d you get her, Zev?” Erina asked quietly.
Zevran rose to his feet, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I know we said we would wait, but I found a merchant selling training supplies for nobility, including those meant for children who will grow to be fighters in some capacity or another.”
He turned away, fishing through a bag until he produced a pair of wooden knives – small enough for a child a year or two older than Shy to wield easily – and a small bow with arrows that were not intended to harm a soul.
Erina narrowed her eyes. “You got her weapons?”
“They are wooden!”
“She’s THREE!” she hissed.
“In time she will learn to use them, if she chooses! I promise you, they were not expensive.”
“I know,” Erina shook her head. “That’s not the point.”
He paused. “Wait, how do you know what they cost?”
“I…” she grimaced, looking away, “may have looked at them. But I didn’t buy them!”
Zevran laughed, placing his hands on her hips and guiding her close to him. “You are not so much better than me, it seems.”
“Shouldn’t that terrify us both?” Erina asked, begrudgingly allowing herself to be pulled against him.
“I don’t know, I quite like myself,” he said, beaming.
Erina chuckled, a smirk breaking through her scowl. “I’ve noticed, believe me.”
“Daddy!” a demanding voice called from her bedroom.
“I am beckoned,” Zevran sighed dramatically.
“She can wait one more minute,” Erina chuckled, before leaning up to press her lips to his.