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A hint of a breeze caressed her face, cooling the sweat droplets gathered there. Persephone Hawke relished the brief moment of respite before the desert heat took over once more. Though it had only risen no more than half an hour before, the sun was relentless as it beat down upon the sand beneath them. Even the shade of the camp's tents did nothing to make it more tolerable. There were a couple patches of some sort of grass attempting to grow beneath their feet, but it was sparse and scraggly, hardly deserving of the name grass.
Though there was a certain beauty in it, she mused. Perhaps the desert wasn’t quite so terrible as she’d always imagined it was. The man next to her certainly helped make it a worthwhile place to be.
“Explain to me again how you know it was stolen?” Rylen patiently asked the scout standing in front of them.
When the scout began to answer with the same long-winded speech she’d just given, Effie let out a slow breath through her nose and let her eyes wander back to the abandoned tower nearby. Cabot’s letter asked her to search for the rare brandy in any tower they came across, since apparently some researcher somewhere found mention of it last having been seen in one. She didn’t know if she’d find it after all this time, but she at least owed Cabot a look and that one looked promising.
When Rylen told the scout to show him something, she took the opportunity to slip away. The tower wasn’t too far and he had to handle the theft incident. She did not envy him in that. From what she’d heard, she suspected the missing item had simply been misplaced, or helped along by another scout to its misplacement, but her days of dealing with petty squabbles were over. He’d handle his people as he saw fit.
She circled the crumbling structure, every so often testing out the hand holds in the stone. She could simply pull some of the rocks out to make it easier on herself, but it had been well built and it would be a shame to further the destruction of the once great structure. To her relief, on the far end, the wall had collapsed. She might be able to climb up there.
She tried a couple paths, but slid down each time. Sweat slid down the back of her neck as she glared at the crumbling wall. All she had to do was rearrange a couple of the rocks and—
“Why are you trying to climb that tower?”
She snapped her head toward Rylen. He casually leaned against a shaded part of the wall, arms crossed over his chest as though he had not a care in the world. As though this blasted heat didn’t bother him. She lifted her chin. “To get to the top.”
“Are you serious?” he asked. She couldn’t make out the particulars of his face from this distance, but his voice held the barest hint of laughter. “What’s at the top?”
She shrugged. “Some rare bottle of alcohol Cabot wants. Maybe.”
“Cabot?”
“You know, from the tavern?” She lifted her hands and several rocks rearranged themself into steps.
“I know who Cabot is,” Rylen said, unfolding himself from the wall. “What I don’t know is why you’re trying to climb this tower to get it for him.”
Effie easily hopped up the first several steps and looked over her shoulder at him. He stood at the bottom, watching her ascend. She explained, “I owe him.”
“For what?”
The path was smoother now, and she easily ran up the sloped wall. At the top, she looked back and was unsurprised to find Rylen following her. When he reached her, she gave him a teasing smile. “Why are you climbing this tower?”
“The woman I adore told me there’s something important at the top.”
She shook her head before turning to the ladder. “Shall we?”
The first thing she saw when she popped her head up was the cheese. Huge wheels of what appeared to be well preserved cheese. The second thing she noticed were the skeletons and the copious number of bottles spread out around the area.
Rylen quietly surveyed the scene for several moments when he reached the top. He walked over to one of the dehydrated wheels of cheese and picked up a small figure holding a shovel. He lifted his eyebrow as he held it up to her. “Seems they had fun at least.”
“You have to admit, it’s not a bad spot.” She gestured at the view of a canyon surrounded by endless desert.
“I won't admit anything. It’s a terrible spot.”
She laughed and bent down to inspect the first bottle. Not this one.
“Will you tell me what you’re looking for?”
“It’s called West Hill Brandy.” The next bottle wasn’t it either.
“And why are you looking for it?” Rylen asked as he picked up a bottle along the wall, carefully inspecting the label before placing it back on the floor.
“Cabot managed to secure something I requested. In exchange, I’m helping him with this.”
“And what was that?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Got it.” He held a bottle up toward her. She reached for it, but he pulled it back, just out of her reach. “I found it. You can have it if you tell me.”
“It’s a surprise, Templar.”
“What kind of surprise?”
“A birthday one.” She snatched the bottle and started toward the ladder. Before staring down, she paused and looked back at him. He was standing where she’d left him, watching her with furrowed eyebrows. “What?”
His voice was quiet when he told her, “No one’s ever celebrated my birthday before.”
Her breath caught in her chest as his words hit her. Never? Even her family had celebrated her birthday, though it wasn’t something any of them particularly enjoyed. She was more glad than ever she’d decided to do something for him. “Well, it’s not every day you turn thirty-five. Come on, let’s get back. Otherwise this heat might be enough to add a couple more skeletons to the pile.”
***
Several days later, Rylen scrawled his name at the bottom of the letter and waved the paper in the bone-dry air several times before folding it. He’d just finished pressing the seal into soft wax dripped on it when someone settled down on the edge of the table he used as a desk. Joy sprung inside him, and he smiled as he flickered his gaze up.
Effie peered at him, her dark eyes alight with excitement. Somehow, even out here in the desert, she managed to look impeccably put together despite the endless heat.
“Have you finished yet?” she asked with a nod in the direction of the letter on the table in front of him.
He looked back down at it. The wax had cool enough, so he gently removed the seal and set the letter on top of the stack to be sent to Skyhold that evening. “Just did.”
“Good.” The edge of her mouth twisted up in a half smile. “I thought you might lose track of time.”
“You’d not let me, a leannan.”
“No, I wouldn’t. Not today.” She slid off the edge of the table and came around to prod him out of his chair and toward the stairs. “Go change, I’ll be out front.”
“Where are we going?” he asked as they descended the stairs toward the mid-level. Soldiers and other residents of Griffon Wing Keep swarmed around them, the heat doing little to dissuade them from their work. The Western Approach wasn’t most people's idea of a good post, but he couldn’t have asked for a better one to command. He had good people, who had positive attitudes and worked hard. More, he had the woman at his side, and he’d come to the Western Approach a thousand times over for her.
“For a picnic,” Effie told him.
He cut his eyes over to her and said, quite seriously, “Not on that tower, I hope.”
Her eyes sparkled as she shook her head and laughed, though she didn’t respond. Instead, she shooed him toward their room. Rylen couldn’t help the smile that broke out across his face—her laughter was infectious. He considered sweeping her off her feet and bringing her into the room with him just to hear more of it, but resisted. She had plans and he didn’t want to interfere with them. So he simply winked, entered their room, and changed as quickly as he could out of his armor into more casual clothing.
When he’d woken that morning, she’d still been in bed, a rarity for all the time he’d known her. She’d wished him a happy birthday and, between lazy morning kisses, made him promise he’d take the afternoon off. How she’d learned it was his birthday, he’d no idea, but that she cared enough to find out warmed his heart more than she’d ever know.
He descended the next set of stairs and made for the front gate. When he arrived, she was already atop Helge and had another horse saddled and ready to go beside her. He mounted and they were off, talking about life at the keep and all her residents. Commanding the keep was more challenging than anything he’d done before and it was far from perfect, but he wouldn’t change it for anything. Between the meaningful work and the woman he loved at his side, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
They hadn’t gone far when Rylen recognized the path to the oasis. Every tense muscle in his body relaxed as the sand gave way to a lush greenness of the desert sanctuary. As far as picnic locations went in the Western Approach, this had to be one of the best.
One of the soldiers assigned to oasis watch gave them an excited wave before saluting. Right, he’d assigned young Eadgar to patrol the area with some veteran soldiers. It was safer than most of the other patrol options out here in the desert, and therefore safer for the young man.
Effie dismounted and tied their horses before handing him her saddle bag and a blanket. “Would you mind setting up? I need to talk to Eadgar.”
Rylen busied himself picking out a spot for their picnic. Near the water was a tree full of leaves with a deathroot growing at its base. No red fruit was visible, so he laid out the blanket in the shade and settled himself on it, lounging by the water gently rippling in the breeze. He’d have thought the walls of the canyon would make the wind worse by channeling it through, but today at least was calm.
After several minutes, Effie reappeared and began to unpack the food from the saddle bag: dried fruits and nuts, mixed olives, some rice and meat dish, a spread topped with pine nuts and oil, and various flat breads. As she placed each item on the blanket between them, she said, “They’ll patrol the far end of the canyon all afternoon.”
“Will they now?” He reached for an olive and popped it in his mouth. “Why so far?”
She didn’t respond. He glanced back up at her silence, and her lifted eyebrow made him chuckle.
“Maybe you’ll get lucky and find out,” she teased.
She reached for an olive of her own, but Rylen intercepted her hand and pressed a kiss against her fingertips. “I’m already the luckiest man in Thedas to have you.”
Though she smiled, it didn’t reach her eyes. Something about it was off, and the memory of another picnic, years before when he was still in Kirkwall popped into his mind. He pushed that memory away, refusing to pay it any mind. Things were different now. She loved him, and he her, and… and he would not give up on them. Not again. Not ever.
They chatted as they worked their way through the simple meal. At the end, she surprised him with a selection of little Orlesian cakes. He could only wonder how she’d managed to get her hands on them, knowing what he knew about the keep’s amenities. And supply lines, for that matter. One of the cakes was even made of apple and oatmeal, a combination he loved, though he’d seen little of it beyond the gates of Kirkwall.
When they’d finished eating, Effie cleaned up before stretching out on the blanket next to him. She propped her head up on one hand and ran the other through his hair, smoothing it back from his face. It didn’t stay back, the curl instead popping right back to where it’d been. He fought a smile as she tried again, with equally as unsuccessful results. She sighed, and just ran her fingers through his hair instead. Tiny bolts of electricity shot across his scalp, though she didn’t use magic.
While she repeated the motion, she told him, “I asked the watch to make themselves scarce so we can swim.”
He blinked at her. “Swim?”
“Mmhmm…” Her fingers trailed along his jaw and then down his neck to play with the ties of his shirt. “But you have far too many clothes on for that.”
“You want me naked, do you?”
“If I had my way, you’d always be naked, Templar,” she teased.
“At your service.” Rylen captured her hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her palm before teasing it with his tongue. “Though it’s more fun when you are, too.”
She laughed, that joyful laughter he so loved and that made his heart soar. So he let her help him out of his clothes and he helped her out of hers, and they spent the rest of the afternoon swimming, making love, and napping under the shade of the deathroot.
He woke as the sun’s descent finally cast the valley in total shade. Effie was still asleep next to him, their limbs intertwining together like the deathroot beside them. How oddly appropriate for them to have spent the day next to the plant that was, in a way, so much like them. Where he’d thought there nothing left—that their relationship was as dead as the blighted land beneath them—they’d somehow rebloomed stronger than ever.
He brushed his lips against her forehead and thanked the Maker for every moment He’d given them, no matter how winding their path had been. He’d do it all again to be blessed with the incredible woman wrapped in his arms. It was the best birthday he’d ever had, though he’d never known what he’d missed. Birthdays were for the minted, not for people who came from where he did. The Templars hadn’t placed much stock in them either and simply acknowledged the passing of another year with an extra blessing from the revered mother.
Effie stretched, her eyelashes fluttering against her pale cheeks before she lifted sleep-laden eyes to his.
Rylen lifted a hand to brush a stray hair away from her face and the edges of her mouth lifted in a soft smile. He cupped her cheek and ran his thumb across her lips, before tipping her chin. “Thank you for today,” he said before he languorously pressed his lips against hers.
When she deepened the kiss, he willingly lost himself in her once more. He lost himself to the fire, the tenderness, and the vehemence with which love flourished in his heart. All that mattered was here in his arms.
Eventually, when they could no longer ignore that the shadows had lengthened in the valley around them, they forced themselves to move and make their way back to the keep. It’d be back to the reality of the barely veiled secret of their relationship and all the troubles the greater world offered them. Though, he shouldn’t think like that, as she was worth every challenge they might face.
When they got back, they dismounted and handed their reins to the quartermaster. Swithin gave them a jovial smile and asked, “Nice afternoon for you?”
“It was,” Rylen affirmed. He started to reach for Effie, but drew his hand back when he remembered why he couldn’t. The dream of that afternoon evaporated like water in the desert at the reminder of how “private” their relationship had to be.
“Very good, ser. I’m happy for you.” The man nodded and started to turn away, but he seemed to have a thought and paused to add, “We’re all happy for the both of you.” With another nod, he finally turned to lead the horses to the stable.
Rylen did reach for her hand then, intertwining their fingers as they climbed the stairs to the mid-level. As they climbed, they received more nods and knowing looks. He hadn’t been certain Effie noticed until she said, “We’re not as subtle as we thought, are we?”
“No, a leannan…” He stooped down, leaning in close until he murmured in her ear, “Of course, you sleep in my room, and you can be reasonably loud at times.”
“Rylen!” she exclaimed as she pressed her hand against his arm to push him away from her.
“It’s true.” He pulled her toward him again and, lifting her hand to his mouth, pressed his lips against the back. “But they’re glad for us.”
She returned his smile and, wrapping her hand more tightly around his, tugged him through the door of their room. “I have something for you.”
In his surprise, he allowed himself to be dragged inside. There was more? As though she hadn’t already given him more than enough. All of it was more than he deserved.
“Effie—” He started to protest, but he stopped when she gave him a look and a gentle shove toward the bed. He immediately sat down, as he’d not object to anything that involved her and a bed.
When she smirked and headed for her chest instead of for him, Rylen realized she’d expected him to reach the conclusion he had. He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face at how well she knew him. He’d never expected to find someone else who made him feel so complete. He’d certainly never expected her.
She turned back to him, arms outstretched with her offering: a bottle of something wrapped in paper that seemed to sparkle of its own accord, with shades of blue swirling over brown. She beamed, “Happy birthday.”
He held her gaze as he took it from her. Her excitement was palpable, and he found himself more enamored with the sparkle in her eyes than the sparkle of the paper. After a time, she sat down on the edge of the bed next to him and gestured at the bottle in his hands. “Open it.”
So he did, carefully pulling apart the wrapping to reveal the bottle inside: a thirty-five year old whisky from one of the highest quality distilleries in Starkhaven. It couldn’t have been cheap. That explained why she was searching ruins for Cabot. He snapped his eyes back up to hers, “I dinna what to say.”
“I never do either,” she smiled, leaning forward to kiss his shoulder before resting her head against it. “But I hope you know what you mean to me.”
“I do, a leannan.” He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her tight against him as he pressed his lips to the top of her head in return. “I love you. I always have, and I always will.”
She nestled her face into his neck and a familiar melancholy enveloped them. The sense they were on borrowed time always crept its way in in these intimate moments. She gave him a quick peck just below his ear, before she pulled back and smiled brightly. “Well, shall we open it and see if that whisky aged as finely as you have?”
“Aged? Thirty-five’s not that old!” he told her with mock indignation.
“I said if…” she trailed off when the smile he'd been trying to suppress escaped. “You know what I mean.”
“I’m certain I don’t,” he teased, slipping an arm around her to pull her closer.
“Oh stop.” She gave his chest a half-heartedly push before she buried her face against it. “Yes you do.”
“Hmm? Then maybe I just want to hear the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known tell me how fine I am,” he mused. He lifted her chin before he dipped his head to nibble at her ear. He liked the sigh that slipped through her lips as he moved along the shell of her ear, and the breath she sucked in when he reached the sensitive spot behind it.
He drew back, reveling in her closed eyes and parted lips, and the way her fingers twisted in his shirt as though she needed more. “Well?”
Her eyes popped open. “What?”
When he lifted his eyebrows, she smiled and slid her hands up his chest to cup his face in her hands. “Rylen Clacher. You are the finest, most exceptional man I know.”
“And…”
“And you only get finer with each passing day.”
“Do I now?”
“Yes.” She dropped her hands with an exasperated shake of her head.
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Glad to hear it.”
“Now if you’re quite finished, shall we give it a try?” She took the bottle from him and lifted it into his line of sight.
“Later.” He took it back and tossed it into the middle of the bed. Then he slid his hand up her back and lowered his mouth toward hers. Once they were close enough to share the same breath, he murmured against her lips, “First I want to remind you exactly how fine this Starkhaven thirty-five is.”
