WHAT: An attempt at a birthday dinner amidst uhh this crap. WHERE: Skyhold WHEN: Tuesday, Jan 19th, early evening WARNINGS: Some fatalistic talk, mentions of hunting, but mostly tame. Fade to black. STATUS:Complete!
They hadnât expected to wake up in a near-apocalyptic state of Vallo. There had been a cozy fire and warm bed and limbs tangled together the night before, and in the morning it was just a hazy state of darkness, ruins and something called red lyrium all around them.
The birthday plans that Atreus had made for the day had been swiftly forgotten and replaced with the need to figure out what was happening. Theyâd spent the early part of the day gathering knowledge and securing a base of operations here at the ruins of Skyhold, meeting up with people they knew that were stuck here in the same, trying to figure a way out.
It was chaotic and tiring, and later in the day had dragged out as much of the same. Atreus had his own ability to live in a world exactly like this, the familiarity was jarring. But it made him well-equipped for this sort of place, and before long they had appropriate shelter and something even bordering on cozy, between him and Dorian.
Once heâd had time to breathe, Atreus set out to secretly try and plan a little birthday something for his boyfriend. Heâd made a promise that heâd be back quickly, after he did some hunting. He gathered the items he needed and made his way back to Skyhold with a small boar slung over his shoulder and his pack full of items.
Heâd disappeared to another stone area of the keep and got to work.
When he emerged some time later, he placed a kiss on Dorianâs cheek and held up a black strip of fabric. âHow do you feel about blindfolds?â
It was the forest, but not the one they knew. It was Skyhold, but the way it had been when the Inquisition first was led to the fortress - holes in the roof and chock-full of rubble, prior to when everything came together and actually flourished. Dorian was familiar with the idea of dystopian worlds, having experienced the split that occurred in his - an alternate reality, due to rifts in time, someplace he traveled to with Max and then had to find a way back, away from the red lyrium that infested everywhere, away from sinister experiments and death and Blight sickness.
This wasnât that, but it was rather bleak regardless - the woods contained the sounds and snippets of creatures that moved safely in the shadows; it was not starlit velvet but ash, and fog, he thought he may be able to slice it with a knife. But no matter what he had Atreus, and other support - the day he had chosen for his birthday, since the calendar those in Vallo followed didnât match up with the Thedosian calendar was just another day and he didnât consider it much. Mostly he was trying to research a way out - though that was difficult to do without the cushy fortress library he was used to. Still, he persevered, having gotten his hands on a couple of books and had been pouring over the pages until he saw Atreus, a sight for sore eyes.
âDepends,â he responded, stroking his mustache contemplatively. âFor the bedroom, or just in general? But since itâs you - positively, I suppose.â
Atreus tried for a grin in return, it was harder here to muster up some optimism, but he was almost always good for it. He had no doubt people could figure it out, if it was them or one of the other pockets of groups roaming around this bleak and sorrowful Vallo.
Had their world changed entirely when they were sleeping? Or were they in a state of dreaming, like the hotel that had plagued them months before? Atreus didnât have any good answers yet, and he wasnât going to get anymore tonight.
But he could try for something romantic.
âJust for a few minutes,â he promised, before gently wrapping the black bind around Dorianâs eyes and taking his hand to guide him. âAnd no peeking!â Gently, and with a hand always on Dorian, he lead him to one of the outer rooms on Skyholdâs crumbling wall. It was surprisingly still standing strong, but the window had ah-- been opened. The view wasnât spectacular - it was gloomy and dark, but it did still overlook the forest that had once been beautiful.
Atreus reached up to gently undo the blindfold so Dorianâs eyes could adjust to the twenty-some candles that now scattered the room, surrounding a stone slab that was currently being used as a makeshift table for the roasted pork belly heâd cooked.
Well, alright, just for a few minutes then - Dorian didnât mind, and he let Atreus put the blindfold on and tie it securely; he also let his manfriend guide him along, chuckling under his breath at the insistence to not peek. âI promise you I wonât ruin the surprise,â he said and, oh, was that what this was? He completely forgot about his birthday, but as they got closer to where they were going he thought he smelled something delicious -
Rich and aromatic. Obviously it was well-cooked meat, and when Atreus took the blindfold off those slate gray eyes widened, a bit surprised at the sight. Despite the dreary circumstances, the candlelight was beautiful in its own way - an arc of gold, bringing a natural glow to the space and softening it somehow. âYou did all this for me?â he asked, actually a bit speechless for once. For once. But it wouldnât last long.
âA hunter and gatherer - you truly are the most fantastic catch,â he praised, turning to take Atreusâ face in his hands and kiss him. âThank you.â
Dorianâs response only made Atreus grin a little wider. It was cut off with the kiss, but only briefly as he laughed into it. That return made him warm inside, and left him feeling good about all of this. Like they could handle whatever was thrown at them, no matter if it was here or back in their more idyllic home.
âI gave the rest of the boar to the others, and I couldnât get a cake here.â His grin was a little lopsided now. âNo bakeries open, you know? But if we can figure out how to get home-- I had one ordered there.â
Atreus moved forward, to the food and the bottle of mystery wine heâd recovered from the cellar, one of the only bottles not destroyed and also without a name, and held it and two plastic cups up for Dorianâs approval. âItâs not much, but-- Happy Birthday. We should always try to make the best of what we have, right?â
âAlways,â Dorian agreed, and he was used to doing that - the Inquisition, traveling to undesirable locales to close rifts and forge connections and allies for the battle against Corypheus had been no picnic either and for some time they hadnât exactly been rolling in money; that took years to build. Heâd managed to bond with Max and they had each other, they fell in love, and Max had been his first love - so heâd been very important to Dorian and he still was, just in a different way.
He wasnât certain when he fell in love with Atreus, perhaps upon presentation of the first Nutella waffle, but it had happened. Dorian was in it, definitely for the long haul, and he wondered if they would have opportunities here that he didnât have in the past - as in, would he have to bring goats to Kratos soon? Could it be?
But he was getting ahead of himself. First he had to say those words to Atreus. He leaned in and inspected the wine - a vintage Grey Warden sort (they collected bottles to travel with and drink), a red, very red; some of the bottles had cheeky quips on them such as donât frigging touch, I spit in this but luckily this was one of the simpler variety. âLooks good, darling,â he said, moving to sit at the makeshift table. âWhen we get home, Iâll be happy to share some cake with you. Itâs only a matter of time before some big brain figures out the quandary anyway. In the meantime, this is perfect.â He meant that. The fact that Atreus remembered his birthday and wanted to do something nice for it even in an actual shithole would stave off any quips about how he was getting older.
âBy the way, you donât see any grey hairs, do you?â Alright, maybe not all quips.
âCake after we get back, itâs a deal.â He knew theyâd make it back, and he knew some very determined and intelligent people on the case. It worried him no less, knowing more than a few of his friends were out there, but things were quiet for this little moment in time, and they were safe here.
Atreus took a seat on the stool next to Dorian, humming in return after the question about his hair. He leaned in to inspect. âItâs a little dark to tell. Youâll have to wait until weâre in better light for a proper answer.â he followed it up with a quick kiss to Dorianâs cheek, before leaning back to pull his knife out of the thigh holster, so he could pull roasted pork apart with it.
âIf we were home, Iâd get out my tattoo kit and try to talk you into one. Adopt my yearly tradition.â Atreus plopped a piece of pork into his mouth and smiled. âSomething magical, maybe. Glowing, a lightning strikeâŠâ
Dorian smiled, a flash of the pearly gates. âYou wouldnât need to spend too much time convincing me. I think a magical tattoo would be the best sort of gift to present myself with.â Even better if Atreus was the one inking it onto him - of course he trusted his beloved to do that. Dorian trusted him with just about anything, with his life.
He watched as the meat was cut into and carved with the knife, focused mainly on Atreusâ hands but also the aromatic scent of their dinner which was, admittedly, making his mouth water. The ambiance, with the wine and candlelight, it was all utterly romantic and thoughtful, and so it seemed appropriate to simply blurt out the words while Atreus was serving up a birthday dinner and cutting into a dead animal.
âI love you, you know.â
Yes, well. Sometimes he wasnât fantastic with words of the heart, though he could weave a grand story or come up with a speech off the cuff if need be, should the Magisterium require it. But personal things were a lot more difficult.
âIâll plan something,â he promised sweetly, already mapping it out in his head. Maybe heâd put it to pencil in his journal tonight, after a nightly sweep of the ruined keep. That was always one of his favorite things to do, lay in bed next to Dorian, when all was quiet and there was just the sound of Dorianâs breathing or the fire crackling in its place. It gave him peace of mind to draw, to sketch, to map out tattoos and landscapes.
Thoughts like that also made it the easiest in the world to laugh a little at Dorianâs statement. He hadnât grown up in a world, or surrounded by people who thought he was wrong, just maybe a little unusual, and that was mostly from his father, so it was okay.
He followed up his laugh with an apologetic kiss, to placate any potential hurt feelings. âI know. I love you too.â It was easy for him to say, no anxiety or nerves bundled up. And he liked the simplicity of Dorian just blurting things out, it was always when he was his most honest.
Dorianâs feelings werenât hurt, but he did blush a little - something rare from the mage, and it brought a bit of a red tint to that golden skin. He thought Atreus had the right idea about it, however - love was supposed to be this simple, and this easy. Perhaps relationships themselves took work but the feelings - no, that part wasnât something he warred with at all.
He nipped at Atreusâ lower lip, playfully, and then made himself useful by uncorking the wine and pouring them both glasses. They could toast to something nice, even here when things - were not so nice. At the moment, he barely noticed.
âAnd to think before you were a sweet not-virgin going on your first date,â he chuckled, handing over one of those cups of wine.
Atreus leaned back just a little, but moved a hand to place it at Dorianâs back, resting with a little bit of touch and comfort while he was able to give his boyfriend a lingering look. Touch was something he always craved just a little, that tangible connection to someone made his fingers tingle.
âHalf a year ago, even!â He took the cup and held it up, plastic not quite making the same satisfactory tink noise that glass did, but he could appreciate the moment anyway. âAnd now you, with your definitely not grey hair and me with my first boyfriend.â
He brought the wine up to his mouth to take a slow sip, before wincing just slightly at the taste. âStuck in a weird dim hell together with strange red wine. What a ways weâve come.â
The satisfying clink of glasses together was indeed missed - but Dorian enjoyed their toast regardless. âTo being in a weird dim hell together, then,â he said cheerfully, taking his own sip of wine and - oh, Maker, that definitely sat weirdly on the tastebuds. It hadnât gone bad, exactly, but he definitely picked up nuances of a sharp tang and perhaps a bit of horseradish; the wine was well on its way to becoming vinegar, though luckily they seemed to have cut it off at the pass just in time.
Would he end up drinking the whole bottle with Atreus? Probably. If you couldnât get wine drunk, on your birthday, in an odd cracked mirror reflection of your proper home then where could you?
âI didnât think Iâd settle so well in Vallo,â he admitted, tasting the first bit of roasted meat. Now that was good. âI assumed Iâd try to find a way out, considering how much work there is to be done at home and I wanted to be there to see it.â He understood a version of him was still there, continuing to work tirelessly to dismantle slavery and oppression with deep roots in Tevinter, but still. A part of him missed his work with Mae, with the Lucerni. âBut with the shop and the university and you, and Skyhold being here - itâs...well, Iâm content.â
And theyâd return to that, to the lives theyâd built. Heâd do what he could to help ensure that.
A blush blossomed on Atreusâ cheeks now, he liked being told he made someone content, his need for praise was there and he had to stamp it down before it became too much. But he understood what Dorian was saying, and nodded helpfully.
âI know the feeling. I like it-- well, not here, but the other here. I know thereâs a lot to be done at home, for father and I, but I look at this place like I do traveling? Itâs not permanent, but itâs something we can make a part of our lives and keep with us?â
He sounded weirdly wise, for all of his younger age. Maybe that was being surrounded by Mimir and Kratos for so long. âIâm glad for everything Valloâs thrown at us, even shit like this,â he held up his wine glass again as a second toast, âAnd definitely you.â
Dorian smiled, a soft expression - he did another plastic clink (so a fake clink, but he could imagine how it would normally go easily enough) against Atreusâ cup, and down the hatch more of that wine went. It got better the more he consumed it - which was probably a metaphor for this whole experience, in some way.
âIâm glad as well,â he said, and he meant that even if this wasnât his ideal terrain - heâd been through worse, however, and while he was apt to grumble about the less than perfect weather and conditions he would still work hard to do what needed to be done - whether it was trying to research the nuances of pocket dimensions or simply fighting off monsters and other undesirable creatures with a few well-timed spells. Luckily he had his staff on him or things might be a lot more dire, but heâd have made it work. âI know either of us could disappear, that itâs...beyond our control. But Iâll always have you with me no matter what.â
In his heart, as guarded as it was. Heâd let in a few select people - more than he would have anticipated, but the people in this world had a way about them, he supposed. They were good at winning over persnickety necromancers.
âAnd you introduced me to edible blankets. I could never forget that either.â
Atreus leaned in easily for another kiss, one that tasted of wine and a little edge of desperation. When he pulled away, he leaned back in for another before finally considering that satisfactory. But it was easy for them both to get carried away, and they just might, here in this ruins of a room, as long as it stayed quiet outside.
âWhen we get home, I have a gift for you to help with that. Keeping me with you-- and even better if you let me do the tattoo,â That was followed up with a grin full of promise. He hoped the necklace was still sitting on his bedside table, in itâs little showy box, and not that itâd followed and got lost here.
âAfter we get burritos, because now I really want one, even if this,â he gestured to the roasted meat, âIs pretty good. Itâs no burrito.â
A laugh escaped Dorian. âYes, those edible blankets are a class unto their own,â he concurred. âWe will have plenty of those, and plenty of cake when we return - something to look forward to.â
He rather enjoyed those kisses, however, and before he tucked in entirely to their dinner, he went for just one more, pressing his lips against his boyfriendâs - the third time was the charm? His hand landed on Atreusâ thigh, giving it a squeeze. If things stayed quiet, he was fully fit and ready to show his appreciation for the birthday meal and the ambiance - in a way that involved nudity and locking themselves away for a little while. And why not, it was also good stress relief.
âI will let you do the tattoo,â he added, a promise of his own. âMy arm needs some inking anyway.â Or shoulder, or side, or wherever it would go best - he was open to ideas.
Atreus beamed, distracted from the food even amidst hunger. It was Dorianâs touch, always managed to do something to him, to turn his head or his world or his life on itâs side.
He didnât hate it. Feeling off-kilter in the best of ways was an adrenaline rush. Dorianâs hand and itâs location didnât hurt things.
âYou know--â He was whispering now, leaning in close again to his loverâs lips. âThe fireâs still going and will for a little while, I can just reheat this later? While itâs quiet and thereâs no monstersâŠâ Atreus stole a brief kiss, then another. âIâll hum what I remember of the Happy Birthday song.â
âThereâs a song?â Dorian chuckled into those kisses and, oh, how intriguing. âYes, do hum for me - Iâm certain it will add some flair to me taking your clothes off.â So that was definitely a yes to the reheating, in case there was any question about that.
In the meantime, they could hunker down and stay warm by the fire by utilizing body heat - and friction, of course. Very important. Maybe they didnât have Atreusâ home, or the proper Skyhold, or even a cake - but he still couldnât imagine this moment, or his chosen birthday, being very much better. He could be biased, of course, but who cared. That was fine too.