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Eight Flavours of Skyhold

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As dawn breaks over Skyhold, Nan Trevelyan is up with the mountain larks fossicking and fussing in Skyholds compact yet effective kitchen. When the cook arrives, she’s surprised to see Nan there.

“Inquisitior?”

Nan is startled and turns abruptly to the cook. Her face is a mask of flour wielding a spoon in one hand and a spatula in the other. “ohh err yes I thought…”

The cook tries not to laugh. “Do you need something? I could have arranged to bring something earlier to your apartment if you’d asked.”

“Oh no it’s not that, I just wanted… I wanted to make some pancakes for Commander Cullen.” Nan replies sheepishly.

The cook gives a wry smile. “The Commander always likes a hearty breakfast. Very thoughtful of you, your Worship.” She sees the pan and the charred mess within, “Is that… bacon?”

Nan’s sheepish look remains.

The cook then eyes the bowl in front of Nan. “What is that? And why is it grey?"

“I thought…” Nan scratches the back of her head and looks down like a scolded child. “Maker knows what I thought.”

“Tell me, your Worship, have you actually cooked anything before?”

“Ha well, yes, I guess, growing up it wasn’t something I was brought up to do, although I used to like watching Malcom our resident cook do things in the kitchen, when he let me of course that is.”

“Let me dear.” The cook sighs and holds her hand out for the spoon and spatula currently in Nan’s hands.

“Why don’t you prepare the tray, your Worship? Maybe cut some berries and put them in a bowl? Don’t forget the syrup.”

Nan nods obediently, and does as asked before watching cook weave her magic with these unforgiving ingredients. If that spatula were a sword Nan would have felt more comfortable.

Finally the tray is ready, a huge stack of fluffy pancakes are piled high with a side of syrup, berries and bacon, plus whipped butter and cream. Nan looks forlornly at the grey pancake mix as cook tips that and the blackened bacon in the rubbish pile.

“Thank you” she mouths quietly and the cook nods and smiles as she leaves.

Getting up a ladder to her lovers bedroom with a tray full of plates seems easy in comparison to her feeble cooking attempts.

Cullen is still asleep as she lays the tray at the side of the bed.

“Cullen.” She whispers. He rouses at her voice and rolls over grabbing her hand. “I missed you. Where were you?” he says sleepily.

“I cooked us breakfast.”

“You?” he sits so he can look her in the eye.

“Yes of course. Who else?” she says as she crosses her hands across her chest.

Cullen glances over the tray and places his hand on Nan’s face to wipe away the flour spot on her nose. “You are all manner of things, Inquisitor. Beautiful, talented, a warrior that I am proud to fight alongside. And I shall add, you’re a mighty fine kisser too. But you’re not a good liar.” He shakes his head.

“Hush now and eat your pancakes. That I definitely cooked for you.”

He kisses her first, long and soft and fluffier and sweeter than any pancake could ever be.