Author's Note: I do not own the farm, I am simply dancing in the barn. A big thanks to my beta HuntressoftheLight for all her help and suggestions.

A dragon. Why did they have to keep finding dragons? No—the better question was why did Lavellan insist on fighting and killing every dragon they came across? Yes. That was the question of the hour and Dorian, try as he might, could not find an answer to it. The group was just supposed to be scouting the area in a final sweep before heading to the Caer Bronach and then back to Skyhold. Dorian had been looking forward to an easy run with the possibility of a few bandits, maybe a handful of demons, but no. They had to come across a Maker-damned dragon. Lavellan and Bull were almost salivating in their anticipation to fight it. And they called him the barbarian!

"Dorian, come on!" shouted Levellan.

Dorian looked ahead and there she was, heading down the hill ahead of everyone else, hair flying everywhere with an infectious grin plastered across her face.

"I promise if we win, I'll get you something nice!" She yelled with a big wink in his direction. Bull was at her side, the two of them screaming and whooping as they raced through the grass towards the dragon.

Dorian gave a huge sigh of both resignation and exasperation as he unstrapped his staff, and took off down the hill after them with Solas running alongside.

"That is not exactly inspiring, dear," he muttered to himself, though he swore he heard a chuckle from the elf behind him.

When he got into range, the two idiots were already slashing away at the beast. Lavellan seemed to be dancing around it, weaving in and out of its legs and stabbing it where she could, while Bull was hacking at every piece of flesh his blade could touch. The dragon stretched out its neck and let out an earth shattering roar that drove both Lavellan and Bull to their knees.

"Well, I suppose that's our cue," sighed Dorian. With that, both he and Solas started to cast their spells at the creature below.

It was about halfway through the fight, when Dorian was healing Lavellan for the fourth time, that he changed his mind.

"You know, if you do get me a present dear, I'd rather it be something deadly," he told her as she started to stand. "I feel like that would be more useful, given all the perilous situations you drag me into."

She straightened herself up, and stuck her gore covered hand out to him, which he shook with an eyebrow raised. "Deal," she said, a grin spreading across her face once again. With that, she turned on her heel, and dashed back to the dragon to resume fighting once more.

"What are you going to get me?" he yelled at her retreating form.

"It's a secret!" she yelled back as she rejoined the fray, prompting Bull to start shouting both 'Alright, boss!' and 'Die you son of a bitch!'—often in the same breath. Dorian almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation as he watched the two of them and their antics.

Dorian snapped out of it as a tail whipped dangerously close to his head, and he ducked just in the nick of time. He threw back another Lyrium potion, prepping himself for a new spell destined this time for the dragon's eyes.

Ale. There was an abundance of ale, which Dorian considered a major and much needed improvement over an abundance of dragon, even if the ale was substandard. He sat off to the side of the room nursing his cup while Bull was in the center, regaling the story of their heroic defeat of the dragon to the enraptured soldiers that gathered around him. The men and women seemed to be hanging off his every word, and there were constant cries of "cheers to the dragon slayers!" He had to admit, the story did sound rather awe-inspiring, and Bull wasn't even exaggerating that much. He could've given Varric a run for his money for his performance that night.

Dorian gulped down the rest of his ale, and was about to fetch another cup when Lavellan threw herself down onto the floor beside him. She smirked up at him from her spot on the floor, "I told you we'd survive."

"Actually, you didn't. I believe the exact wording you used was if'," Dorian retorted, grabbing her cup from her hands and drinking deeply from it. He sat back in his chair with a contented sigh.

"Did I?" she questioned, looking as if she was thinking back to their previous conversation. She shrugged. "Oh well. We did survive, and I believe I promised you a present."

"It's been two hours since we got back. However did you manage to get something together already?" he asked.

"Well, if you want to get technical, it isn't your actual present. It's a drawing of it."

"A drawing..." Dorian said, skepticism coloring his voice.

"Here you go." She passed him a piece of paper, eyes alight with mischief.

He looked down at the paper, and his heart skipped a beat. It was a dragon bone staff, with dragon heartstring inside to help channel his magic. He was sure that there was nothing like it currently in existence. He just continued to stare at the page, taking in all the notes the craftsman had written, when Levellan started to ramble.

"I was hoping that this would be something you would like. I was looking through some ancient texts and it's fairly experimental, but Hamond and Dagna said that—"

"Lavellan."

She looked up at him, rather worried at his interruption.

"It is a marvelous gift," Dorian said softly. The tense lines on Levellan's face relaxed and she gave him a shy smile. He couldn't help but push his luck. "You should know that I would prefer not to have to use it against any more of its kin."

That devilish smirk popped right back onto her face, "Don't be silly Dorian. Why, I heard that there are three dragons in the Emprise du Lion. And my favorite mage will be accompanying me." She sprung to her feet, and made her way over to the soldiers still listening to Bull, completely ignoring the look of horror that was currently plastered on Dorian's face.

Dorian shook his head. That ridiculous woman was going to be the death of him. He looked over the schematic of his new weapon. 'Well,' he thought with a smile, 'at least I will die with an amazing staff in hand.' He drained the rest of the ale from the stolen tankard then got up to rejoin the two ruffians in their storytelling, which was growing, to his great amusement, increasingly ludicrous by the minute.

Note: So here is the latest chapter. It is a little shorter than the others, but this idea crawled its way into my head, and I just had to get it out. I also wanted to thank everyone who was reviewed/favorited so far, it has really inspired me :) I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please leave a review or favorite if you did!