Birthday Celebration

Dorian sighed, sullenly facing yet another hallway of the inquisition stronghold. It had to have been well past midnight, if his internal clock was correct, and no matter what he did, he just simply could not get back to his room. He thought he'd had this whole place memorized by now, or at least the parts of it he actually needed to use…!

But he wasn't lost. Perish the thought!

Dorian knew he'd probably been wandering around for hours, and yet, the closest he had gotten to where he wanted to go was accidentally walking in on inquisitor Lavellan whilst he was in the bathing cavern underneath the castle. After a small while spent there, he had moved on once more to try to find his room, leaving a few disrupted water pools and one exhausted elf in his wake. Luckily, someone had complained about noise, and Cullen was able to carry the sore and sleeping Herald up to his quarters for him.

…Okay, so maybe the hours hadn't been spent wandering, but the point was, it was late. Or…early. Or… Whatever.

Dorian sighed again. This time, though, it was partly out of relief, and partly out of frustration. Somehow now in the battlements that surrounded the castle, the mage was at least glad he'd gotten out from underneath Skyhold.

However, Dorian stressed to himself, this is even farther away.

Upon begrudgingly walking through the disarrayed room on the stone wall and coming to a wooden door, Dorian summoned a ball of fire in his hand at the sound of a large metallic clatter and muffled shout on the other side of the wall in front of him. Would someone actually attack? Now? Of all times? But… That yell had sounded an awful lot like…

Dorian's eyes widened.

If someone was attacking, that kid had chosen the absolute worst time to leave the tavern attic.

The Tevinter mage slammed the door open, preparing himself for both a gruesome scene and a bloody battle about to take place. Dorian steeled himself to launch his magic at whatever lay in front of him, and readied himself for an attack–

"Wait!"

Dorian froze.

Taking in the sight of the young spirt, alone on the battlement, with a fearful expression on his face because of him, Dorian let the fire dissipate into the air. Cole seemed to calm down a bit, but his fringe-covered eyes still held a hint of distrust in them. The mage held his hands up in a gesture of peace, which appeared to help matters slightly. But that couldn't stop Dorian from asking…

"Cole… What are you doing up here? And… Why are you holding a cupcake?"

The spirit of compassion looked down at the small cake, a faraway look in his cerulean eyes.

"It's not finished. The candle would've completed it, but I couldn't reach it."

Candle…? Ah. Looking over, it appeared that one of the sconces had been pulled off the wall, the string on the small stick of wax that had once been in the metal holder still smoking with dying embers. Dorian walked the few feet to where the candle lay, picking it up and snapping his fingers to engulf the string in flames once more.

"Here," Dorian said, handing the candle to the pale boy. "Feel free to indulge whatever strangeness you're planning that involves desserts and wax."

Cole took the candle from him, the stark difference in their skin colour making itself obvious when their hands briefly met over the candle. Now that there was light to illuminate the younger man, Dorian's breath hitched. Was he…crying…?

Sure enough, even though the spirit was smiling softly at Dorian, tears were freely running down his gaunt cheeks and dripping off of his chin. In the glow of the candlelight, the Tevinter male noticed that the boy's overly large hat was strangely absent, set on the very edge of the battlements as if Cole himself had just been sitting over there before he had decided to try to reach the sconce – A feat that had obviously failed.

Dorian reached forward, gently brushing the tears away with battle-strengthened fingers. Cole flinched away with a small shiver, obviously not expecting the simple kindness.

"Cole…" Dorian breathed out. "Why are you up here?"

Cole looked down silently, mashing the candle awkwardly into the pastry, and holding it in a way that almost made it look like… some kind of celebratory cake, or something.

…Oh.

Oh.

"Cole…" Dorian spoke, almost cautiously. "Is it… Does today mean something special to you?"

If possible, the boy seemed to become even more sullen, slowly walking over to sit where his hat was. His legs dangled dangerously over the side in a way that had Dorian walking over to sit beside him, if only to make sure he didn't fall. He hoped the winter snow below them was thick enough to protect them if such a fate did occur… Maker, was sitting on a potentially deadly cliff waiting for an anti-social spirit to tell him why he had a cupcake really worth it? What would Lavellan think if he walked out of Skyhold to find himself and Cole dead on the ground? He'd be sure to think the worst of why they'd be out here this late. Celebrating an unknown holiday surely wouldn't be the first conclusion someone would think of. And if he thought Dorian would do something like that after what they'd just done…

"Back arched against his chest. Heat burning, boiling, bursting from his belly. It aches, but it's good. The heat isn't from the water."

Dorian's head snapped over to look at the boy recounting what had only just happened whilst he and the inquisitor were down in the bathing pools.

"Uh, Cole, I'm not sure–"

"Sleeping now, but dreaming of you. 'Take me,' he whispers in his slumber. 'It's hot. Too hot. Please, I can't–'"

Dorian firmly cut the spirit off, shoving his ridiculously large hat over his face to silence his…words. The mage felt his burning ears cool a little, and he briefly wondered when it had started snowing.

"Cole," Dorian ground out through gritted teeth. "The cupcake. We were talking about the cupcake. Why do you have it? Is today some sort of importance to you?"

Cole tried to mutter something through the hat, and once Dorian realized that he actually wasn't letting the boy answer the question he had asked, he pulled the floppy leather away.

"It…" Cole started, still trying to catch his breath, if only a little. The tears had subsided, a bit, but all of a sudden, they came back. "Today is… the anniversary of Cole's birth."

Suddenly, everything clicked. The cake, the candle, why he was out here, why he was practically sobbing by now, and–

–And, Maker, he really was sobbing now.

Dorian shifted uncomfortably. What could he say? What could he do? How was one supposed to comfort a depressed and partially murderous spirit anyways? The older male sighed, deciding to calm the boy in the best way he knew how – Without words.

Wrapping his arms around the wet-faced boy, Dorian pulled him against his chest for a somewhat awkward, not too 'touchy', hopefully comforting, hug. Dorian could practically feel Cole's surprise, but he didn't comment. Opting instead to simply hold the boy tighter, the spirit finally wrapped his own, lanky arms, around the man's waist, burying his face into the expensive fabric of his shirt.

After a small while, Cole's heart-wrenching sobs finally died down into small whimpers and sniffles. Prying the boy off of his shirt, Dorian looked into Cole's puffy, slightly teary blue eyes. Brushing a few damp strands of hair out of his face, the mage spoke softly.

"You did the best you could've in the situation, Cole. And not only did you show him comfort in those last moments, you're helping his memory live on through a hero. Never forget that, alright?"

The spirit nodded slowly. "I… Yes. Yes, alright."

Dorian smiled at his friend, pulling him so that he was lying across his lap as silence began to settle over the two.

"He'd never blame you for anything," Cole suddenly commented. What? Who? Ah, wait, yes. He'd been worried about Lavellan finding them dead together. Dorian put one hand on Cole head, patting gently.

"Cole, honey, it's time to be quiet."

"That… That thing you did with your tongue; he wants you to do it again."

Face flushing, Dorian used his hands to hold Cole's jaw shut in order to prevent him from saying more.

"No more talking tonight."

The spirit made a few muffled protests (Or maybe he was agreeing; Dorian really couldn't tell) before finally going silent. After a small while, Dorian let the boy's jaw go to start running his fingers through his matted blond hair. Soon, when the silence had started to become a bit long for his liking, Dorian looked down at the face of the boy in his lap, only to realize…

…that he was asleep. Spirits could sleep?

Wonderful.

Putting his face in his ring-fingered hands, the Tevinter sighed heavily. He had to get to his room - Beauty sleep was important, after all – but… Dorian removed his hands, glancing down at the boy's peaceful face. It wasn't a feeling of romantic love he got when he looked at the spirit, nor was it a feeling of sexual desire, or anything close. It was more of a…want to protect the boy, he supposed.

Dorian looked over at the tavern, before he allowed himself to resign. Slowly maneuvering out from under the sleeping boy, the mage gently picked Cole up bridal-style.

Sighing once more, Dorian began his walk.

It…was going to be a long night…