A/N: This year, as a writing exercise, I decided to take on my own version of the "Project 365" idea that is so popular in the photography world. My goal is to write a 100 word drabble each and every day this year. Each of the entries below is exactly 100 words, not counting the date and title. I'm planning to post a week of drabbles in each chapter.
A Year of Dragon Age
Jan 1, 2012 – Left Behind
Ser Pounce-a Lot awoke, leaping down from his favorite spot at the top of the food/mage/man's wardrobe. He sniffed at the blankets on the bed, pausing to rub the side of his face against them as he passed by. The food/mage/man had used to come and find him when it grew dark, stroking his fur sometimes long into the night… the nights he made Pounce's fur all wet. But, he had looked all over the Keep day after day and the food/mage/man was nowhere to be found.
He padded purposefully out of the room.
Maybe today he would find him.
Jan 2, 2012 – First Lessons
"This is where you will sleep and you are expected to keep your sleeping area tidy. Prayer service begins at dawn, followed by chores and then lessons. Disobedience will not be tolerated. The other boys will help you get settled."
She lied. The other boys did nothing to help.
His first few weeks were full of shame and fear as he was initiated into his role as the lowest-ranking boy, even though he was older than most of the worst tormenters.
Each night, he curled himself into a ball on the bed and wept, hating Eamon with all his heart.
Jan 3, 2012 – 'Tis Foolish
The noise and the overwhelming crush of people make her more uneasy than she would ever admit to.
She thinks she hides her discomfort well; forcing her muscles that shake with effort to run into a languid pace.
To her shock, it is the oaf who notices, and she steels herself for derision that doesn't come. Instead, when no one is looking, he squeezes her arm with a shy smile.
She yanks away and his smile falters.
Afterward, she is ashamed that she is no longer nervous about the city… not when she can think of nothing but his touch.
Jan 4, 2012 – Softie
"I saw what you were doing back there." Leliana sat down beside him, always too close.
Sten shuffled away. "Oh?"
"Don't play innocent with me."
"What are you talking about?"
She smirked. "You. Playing with that kitten."
"...There was no kitten."
"Sten, I saw you. You were dangling a piece of twine for it."
"I was helping it train."
"You're a big softie!"
"We will never speak of this again."
"Softie!"
Years later, when the Fereldan shoreline was invaded by a Qunari regiment of vicious, trained attack cats, Leliana realized that, perhaps, Sten had not been a 'softie,' after all.
Jan 5, 2012 - Powerless
He tilts the vial back and forth in his fingers. It's strangely viscous, an unnatural shade of blue. He wonders who tasted it for the first time; who realized that it restored a mage's power; who realized that, once you started, it was impossible to stop.
Wiggling the cork free, he can smell its distinctive tang and his body responds instantly. His hands are trembling, but he forces himself to wait.
He wonders who decided to give it to their templars. Did they know?
It hurts. He can't delay any longer.
He drinks, and loses a little more of himself.
Jan 6, 2012 – A Crow's Welcome
"This one should be suitable. Always up to no good, but smart."
At the sound of Señora Arama's voice, he scrabbles under the bed. He'd watched them arrive from the window and knew what they were.
Crows.
The door creaks open and he holds himself still, barely daring to breathe.
"I thought he was here—?"
"He is, señora. We will get him out." There are footsteps and then a leering face, blocking out the light.
They pull him out, while he kicks, screams, claws, bites.
They laugh at his antics now, but he will pay for his disobedience later.
Jan 7, 2012 – Mother Knows Best
"Now, you will watch, and learn well." Flemeth picked up the ornate golden mirror and threw it against the wall where it shattered, glittering shards crashing to the floor.
Morrigan stood before her, her chin jutting defiantly into the air. The girl's tears were threatening to fall, her lip quivering with words unsaid.
"Pick them up."
"No!"
"No? Would you like me to control your mind again? You will learn to obey me, girl."
There was hatred in her eyes, but she did as she was told.
Flemeth smiled. It was always so much more fun when they fought back.