Chapter Text
He should not have imbibed so heavily. Of that much, Abelas was certain. The strange cards blurred before his eyes, as he shuffled them uncertainly in his hands, faces and numbers shifting into unfamiliar patterns.
He had simply desired some company, a chance to better acquaint himself with his new companions, but he was sorely unused to his body's limitations. So long had he spent in stasis that the strong influence of the tavern's ale took him by surprise and the need for caution went unheeded.
"Your move, Grandpa, unless you've forgotten the rules already." Varric, the rambling dwarf, chuckled and raised his mug to signal the barmaid for another round. "I'd understand, though," he continued, his mocking words floating to Abelas' ears, "Maybe you just need a nap. Shake loose all those cobwebs up there."
Abelas looked up from his hand with what he hoped was a stern glare, but the hazy and tilting atmosphere of the room made him unsure.
"Oh, look, you've made him go all dour again." That was the Tevinter shemlen, Dorian, sitting across the small table to his left.
Abelas cleared his throat. "Do not mistake my many years for senility, durgen'len," he said with a scowl. "I mastered more skills while I slept, than you will fumble at in an entire lifetime."
Varric folded his cards into one hand and let out a bellowing laugh. "Is that why you've been staring at your hand like a confused baby bronto? All those skills cluttering your brain."
The fog of the alcohol allowed fondness to seep past his annoyance, and a smirk pressed across Abelas' lips. He liked these two men. Despite their crude and teasing manners at times, they did not regard him any different than the others in their retinue.
Slapping whatever card he could first grab onto the table, Abelas opened his mouth to offer a retort, but a fourth presence arrived and interrupted his thoughts.
"What're you three up to over here?" Ellya's voice was light and her smile radiant as she leaned over Abelas' shoulder, mug of ale tipping precariously in one hand. Her fingers of the other slid casually against the back of his chair and Abelas straightened, suddenly very aware of each clumsy movement of his buzzing limbs.
"Just the usual," Dorian said, laughing and grasping her wrist to urge her into the chair next to his, "drinks, games, witty repartee." He looked pointedly between Abelas and Varric and laid down a card. "The ever present stench of humiliation and shameful defeat."
Varric groaned and Abelas tried to focus his vision on the table, but the sway of the room and the loud minstrel's song made concentration difficult.
"I swear you're cheating, Sparkler."
Ellya laughed as Dorian gathered the cards and began shuffling the deck.
"Deal me in," she said after taking a sip of her beer and setting it aside. "What are we playing for? I don't see any coin."
Abelas felt the tips of his ears grow warm in embarrassment. The choice of stakes had relied solely on his severe lack of funds, but Varric quickly intervened.
"Money between friends' never a good idea," he said casually and began picking up the cards that Dorian doled out. "We're playing for dares."
Ellya narrowed her eyes and reordered the cards held loosely in her fingers. "Dares?"
Leaning towards her with a conspiratory glance, Dorian smirked. "Indeed, and we've had some wonderful displays." He placed the rest of the deck between them and shrugged towards Abelas. "Did you know that our ancient friend here can down a whole mug of Cabot's Dragon's Brew in thirty seconds?"
Abelas felt his cheeks heat as Ellya turned to him with an appraising glance, but he quickly cut in. "Or that in recompense the Tevinter demonstrated for the tavern quite a jovial dance?"
"Beginner's luck on your part," Dorian snapped back with a laugh.
"Fancy pants got a standing ovation," Varric said between chuckles and turned to Dorian with a sweeping hand gesture. "Preened like a peacock."
"I'm sorry I missed it," Ellya said, her eyes mischievous before she took another long draft of her drink.
"You're in luck, my dear." Dorian's smile grew very wide as he wrapped an arm around Ellya's shoulders. "I've just won this round, and I deem the next dare to be ladies' choice."
"If that's the case," she said. Abelas watched as her gaze slid slowly across each of their faces, a secretive smirk gracing her features, until her eyes landed squarely him, "Abelas." His name on her lips caused his breath to catch, and Ellya's smile widened. "Have you ever heard Varric sing?"
Whatever he had expected her to say, it surely was not that, and he found a strong laugh bubbling up his throat. "No," he said, his mind buzzing with delight, "however, I think I should like to."
"Watch yourself, Grandpa." Varric said with a grumble.
"You heard the lady." Dorian leaned back in his chair, his smile practically beaming with mirth.
With a grimace and a harrumph, Varric tossed back the rest of his drink and pushed his chair away from the table with an indignant scrape.
In the end, Abelas couldn't be certain which event he found more amusing: the image of the disgruntled dwarf mumbling along with the minstrel's song or the minstrel's surprise and encouragement at his attempt.
The evening pressed on after that, with laughter and stories shared over the cards. Drinks kept flowing and the friendship and community that abounded in the small tavern left Abelas feeling warm. He had never imagined he would find comfort in the profane, and certainly not in such strange circumstances: communion no longer with spirits and gods and priests, but rather with all manner of races and earthly indulgences. It was oddly freeing.
"Aha! Finally!" Varric shouted over the din of the room, "Time to pay up, kindling!"
Abelas watched, his head feeling light and fuzzy, as Varric spread his cards face up across the table.
With a groaning chuckle, Ellya slapped the dwarf's shoulder and tossed her own hand haphazardly down. "Don't start with that nickname again, Varric."
"Whatever you say," he replied, his voice falsely placating as he grinned and looked around, "but I owe you," he jabbed a thumb towards Abelas, "and curmudgeon over here a little payback."
Abelas laughed and swayed. "Your misfortunes were hardly my doing."
Varric turned to him and sloshed his ale accusingly. "An idle participant's still guilty, but nice try."
"All right, Varric," Ellya cut in, "name your price."
Steepling his fingers, Varric leaned back in his chair and smirked. "I could use a little inspiration for my next romance serial. Ellya why don't you go over there and give Grandpa a big fat kiss."
Abelas felt all the color drain from his face. He could not be serious.
"Varric..." Ellya's voice was a warning, but it seemed to go unheard.
"You knew the rules when you decided to play," Dorian interjected with a nudging elbow to her side. "Besides, you two could use a good kiss. All frowns and serious glances all the time."
"Fine," Ellya said, her eyes narrowing and her shoulders straightening. Abelas felt his heart stutter, as a slow smirk spread across her lips and she turned her gaze towards him.
His mouth went dry. His palms splayed against his thighs under the table, trembling and suddenly unable to keep still. He'd be lying to himself if he'd said he hadn't thought of kissing her before, but he had never imagined it like this: inebriated and on the whim of a challenge, nor with such a mocking audience.
Ellya rose from her chair, her eyes never leaving his as she slinked slowly towards him. The room seemed to spin and shift, his vision unable to focus on anything but the sway of her hips and the darting of her tongue as it wet her lips.
Abelas was sure he heard Dorian and Varric laugh, but the noises of the tavern fell away when Ellya reached his side. As she bent towards him, the smell of her, of campfires and wildflowers, invaded his senses and his breath hitched. Abelas blinked rapidly trying to focus. It wasn't right, his mind screamed, even as his body leaned towards her.
One by one, Ellya placed her hands against his cheeks and smiled. His heart thudded almost painfully in his chest and he closed his eyes, waiting.
But in the next moment, he felt her lips, full and strong, land with a loud smack against his forehead before she pulled quickly back.
Abelas' eyes opened sluggishly, confused.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Varric scowled and crossed his arms over his chest.
Abelas just looked at Ellya standing over him, one of her hands resting on his back, her thumb stroking softly. Despite a tinge of disappointment, he felt relieved.
"Well," Ellya began with a hand on her hip, "unless you'd like to walk across the battlements completely nude the next time I win a hand, you'll keep the sexual dares off the table."
Dorian and Varric erupted into laughter, and Abelas found himself quickly joining in.
"Fair enough!" Varric said between chuckles. "Come on, Sparkler, help me get another round from the bar."
As Varric and Dorian left, Ellya settled herself back into her own chair across the table.
"I'm sorry," she said with a small smile, "I'd rather not be used as fodder for Varric's creativity." She began gathering the cards and shuffling them into a neat pile. "And I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."
Her tone was light, but even through the haze of his thoughts, Abelas could hear the question in her words. Perhaps he was not the only one who had entertained notions of a kiss between them.
Feeling the alcohol fuel his bravado, Abelas leaned across the table. "I was not uncomfortable, save for the public nature of the demand." Ellya stopped her shuffling to stare at him intently. Abelas wet his lips and lowered his voice further. "Perhaps," he began in a whisper, "when we are alone and both sober enough to remember it, I could ask you to pay your debts more properly."
Before Ellya had a chance to respond to his words, Varric and Dorian returned to the table, four mugs of fresh ale in hands.
"Shall we continue?" Dorian asked.
Abelas sat back into his chair and watched as a slight blush and tug of an impish smile formed across Ellya's features.
"Yes," she replied.
She may have directed her affirmation towards the Tevinter mage, but her eyes never left his and that told Abelas all he needed to know.
He looked down as the cards were dealt and the laughter and stories began anew, a welcome sensation joining the alcohol-induced warmth of his limbs.
The smile pressed once again across his lips.
He could never have imagined it when he set out after the fall of the Temple of Mythal, but he found himself on the precipice of being truly happy for the first time in a long while
A new life, with new friends and experiences. And perhaps something more. He could not think of anything better.