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“All right, my love. You’ve proven your ability to plan and execute extravagant dates is still very much intact. Now, do you mind telling us where we’re going?”
Daeran turned back to the spouses, trying his best to keep his breathing quiet. If Ariadne heard the wheeze in his chest, they’d start recommending he exercise more. That would be prudent advice, but as there was only one type of physical exertion he was usually interested in and they still did that quite frequently, he didn’t see the point. Besides, such talk would put a damper on the evening he’d planned for the three of them.
Twilight was falling around them, painting the moors a dusky purple, the warmth the daylight had provided leaching out of the air. Woljif had stopped, glancing back down towards the city walls below. Even after two decades, the tiefling still got nervous when forced into situations he wasn’t used to. Which, if Daeran was being fair, he supposed it wasn’t often they went for an evening walk in the wilds of the Stolen Lands.
“You sure about this? Knowin’ all the stories ‘bout what used to call this place home doesn’t exactly put me at ease, y’know.”
“Ah, my darling, I’d argue you’ve been at ease for far too long. When was the last time you disarmed a trap? Picked a lock even?”
“Last week! Silaena asked me to show her how to pick the lock to the…I mean, um…” They all stopped, Daeran and Ariadne staring at their husband in bemusement.
“No, do go on, my love,” Ariadne said, “Silaena asked you to show her to pick the lock to the..?”
Woljif glared at the two of them, wind ruffling his curls. There was a faint flash of silver in his dark hair as the clouds parted and the rising moonlight illuminated the area. Daeran decided it was time for a timely intervention.
“Never mind that now, darling,” he said, lacing his arm through Ariadne’s and steering them towards a nearby copse of trees. As he reached for Woljif’s hand, he added, “The children are almost adults, so whatever trouble they get into will fall back on their heads, not ours and whatever lessons we might have taught them in a flight of fancy.”
“Now I’m just suspicious of the both of you.” Ariadne was laughing despite her words.
“Like you’ve never taught them anything untoward,” Woljif said, shooting Ariadne a mischievous look around Daeran, “I’ve seen some of those recipes in Marius’ notebooks.”
Ariadne shrugged, not a trace of remorse on her face. “It’s important he knows how to take care of himself, no matter where he is or what he’s doing.”
“While I’d love to continue discussing the matter of our excellent parenting, we’re almost at our destination, and that is not a terribly romantic topic of conversation.” Daeran felt a sudden knot of nerves form in his stomach. It had been a while since he’d surprised either of them like this, and the unfamiliar uncertainty was eating at him. Perhaps there was nothing wrong with them becoming old married people. He had been so overcome with the urge to prove they were anything but that he never stopped to think if this was something they should be doing anymore.
Then they entered the clearing. Ariadne’s delighted gasp and Woljif’s awestruck expression alleviated any and all of his doubts.
A soft blanket was laid out on the ground, a fabulous picnic laid out upon it complete with fresh-baked pastries and a bottle of strawberry champagne. A harp sat on one corner, the string appearing to pluck themselves in a soothing melody. The scene was completed by a set of dancing lights, each playful wisp twirling gently in a corner of the blanket.
“Oh, Daeran, this is wonderful.” Ariadne clasped her hands together, eyes lit up with joy. Woljif slunk out from behind her, a perfectly matched grin on his face as he settled down and observed the goods on the blanket.
“You know, once I was real jealous of how you managed to always put these things together. Now though? Now I’m more than happy to be the one wined and dined.” Woljif began fishing around for champagne flutes, the bottle perched precariously between his crossed legs.
“I’m glad to hear that. It takes a certain charm to pull this off, and not to doubt you but - hey!” Daeran barely managed to duck out of the way of the cork that came flying at his head.
Ariadne stepped forward with a soft giggle, gently grabbing Daeran’s arm and leading him down onto the blanket with him. “You’re both charming in your own ways. But I will admit that I think you’ve outdone yourself this time, Dae.”
Woljif rolled his eyes but handed Daeran his glass, eyes going soft as he did so. “Yeah, yeah, it is nice, like I said.”
“Those lights are especially beautiful.” Ariadne was observing the nearest orb with a wistful expression before taking a sip of their drink. “And that harp!”
“How’s it playin’ itself?” Woljif asked, grabbing a cherry roll for himself.
“I’m afraid that’s a trade secret.” Daeran grinned as he leaned back, basking in their delight.
“‘Trade secret?’” Woljif turned back to him with an incredulous grin. “What trade would that be?”
Before Daeran could answer, Ariadne asked, “So what did you have to give Octavia to help you set this up?” Both of them were now looking at him, neither doing a good job at hiding their pleased grins.
Daeran sighed in response, hoping he looked every bit as put-upon as he didn’t actually feel. “A thousand coins, three bottles of our best vintage, a box of gourmet chocolates, and the name of our tailor in Mendev. But you know what?” They had both moved closer to him as he spoke, and as they settled in on either side of him, he could no longer fight his own gratified smile gracing his lips. “It was completely worth the expense.”