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Daylen Amell sighing quietly as he sat down on his bed.
Sitting down on his own bed after a few long weeks of travelling was still a heady feeling, so without taking off his clothes, filthy and smelly from travelling, Daylen laid down on fresh sheets, immediately feeling his mood improving.
Continuing to stay in the Vigil’s Keep was an excellent idea after all. However, it was decided by Daylen, as well as his friends, that they would keep it under wraps for the most part, as maintaining that the Hero of Ferelden had disappeared gave them a tactical advantage they might need in the future. Considering the chaos following everything that had happened with the Mother, the Architect, and the siege of the City of Amaranthine, Daylen had thought that would be the best course of action.
As far as Daylen was aware, his friends, as well as Garevel and the man’s most trusted assistant, were the only ones aware of the mage still staying in the Keep, and Daylen wanted to take advantage of that.
The Warden-Commander had thought things would become easier once he defeated the Archdemon, slain the Mother, and dealt with the Architect. That, however, turned out not to be true. It had taken Daylen a while to finally accept that he wouldn’t be able to escape the responsibilities of a Warden. Not that he wanted to, though. Not at all.
He just needed a break sometimes. He needed his bed. He needed to stop thinking and stop making decisions.
He needed his lovers.
According to what Garavel told him when he’d arrived in the Keep, Daveth still wasn’t back from Denerim, which worried Daylen a bit. He knew that the rogue could handle himself, of course, however, he hadn’t received any message from the other man for a while. Daveth had gone to Denerim to deal with some personal business and said he should be back before Daylen returned to the Keep, but considering everything that had happened recently, the Warden-Commander worried that something unexpected could have happened to Daveth on the way back.
No, Daylen shouldn’t be thinking like that. Daveth was fine. He had to be. The mage was just tired and frustrated, which often led to him overthinking everything that was happening around him.
He fell asleep to the thought of strong arms wrapped around him.
When he woke up later to the feeling of strong arms wrapping around his waist, and he made sure they were not a figment of his imagination, he found himself smiling.
When Daylen’s eyes met Daveth’s, the rogue immediately tilted Daylen’s head to press their lips together.
“Morning,” the rogue muttered, running his fingers through Daylen’s hair. “Not to be an asshole, but you need a bath. And maybe some more sleep.”
Daylen found himself chuckling as he ran one hand down his face. “That might be true. Sorry. I didn’t really have the time to look for lakes or rivers on the way here, and I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.”
“Well, how about we start with a bath, and then see where the night takes us?”
“That does sound nice. Maybe you should be in charge of making plans for the foreseeable future.”
“My pleasure.”
***
They spent a few days together, just relaxing, and except for a few instances when Daylen talked to Garevel about some decisions relating to the Keep and the City of Amaranthine, the mage was able to spend the time in the Vigil’s Keep as he pleased.
One of the days, when they were sneaking into the baths to get some much needed privacy, Daylen trying not to chuckle as Daveth started unlacing Daylen’s undershirt, they heard one of the nearby doors opened. When they turned their heads to see who the newcomer was, they saw a hooded figure stumble inside.
As the person tripped and leaned against the nearest wall to stay upright, the hood slid down, revealing a familiar face of a fellow Grey Warden.
“Alistair!”
Daylen immediately ran up to the other man, wrapping one arm around him, and Daveth joined him a second later. When they got closer, Daylen spotted dark bruises on Alistair’s neck, and a bloody gash above one ear.
“Sorry,” Alistair said, one gauntleted hand reaching up to grab at Daylen’s shirt. “I ran out of healing potions, and I hoped you’d still be here. In the last letter you mentioned going to Orzammar, but…”
“All good,” Daylen said right away. “Come on, let’s get all of that looked at.”
“I’m fine, it’s just a scratch. Some bandits attacked a caravan and turns out they also accidentally found a nest of skeletons and arcane horrors on the way.”
“And yet, I’d feel better if you let me look at those bruises,” Daylen answered, and Daveth, after making sure Alistair was indeed fine, let go of the other man.
“He just wants to see you with your shirt off,” the rogue stated, making Daylen roll his eyes, while a blush covered Alistair’s cheeks.
“Both can be true at the same time, you know,” Daylen said, winking at Alistair, before leading the man to their chambers.
Daylen was surprised to see Alistair in the Keep, but also relieved. The last time he’d heard from the other man was a few months back, when he went to Redcliffe to meet with Teagan. After Anora’s coronation, Alistair ended up travelling all over Ferelden, helping people to rebuild after the Blight, which meant Daylen and Daveth didn’t get to see him often.
Daylen missed him a lot.
After Daveth and Daylen helped Alistair take off his armour, and made sure his injuries were indeed not as bad as Daylen had initially feared, all three Wardens took a long, much needed bath together. When they settled in bed afterwards, they ended up briefly arguing about who got the spot in the middle, which immediately reminded Daylen of the first night the three of them spent together.
The mage still couldn’t quite believe that Alistair joined their relationship in the first place. It was an unexpected development, something that had happened when all three of them needed comfort. It was supposed to be one night, just one night to forget everything that was happening around them, but about a month after, Alistair had asked shyly if he could sleep in their tent again. How could Daylen and Daveth refuse him? Since then, it was the three of them against the world, and Daylen was happy. He had Daveth and Alistair, he had his friends, and that was all he needed, really.
Despite the man’s protests, Alistair ended up in the middle of the bed. Daylen laid on the warrior’s right side, with his head pillowed on Alistair’s shoulder, and Daveth on his left side, with one arm under his head.
“This is exactly what I needed,” Daylen said after a while, pressing a kiss to Alistair’s bare shoulder, tangling his fingers with Daveth’s where they settled on the warrior’s stomach. “I know I’ll have to leave for Free Marches in a week or so, and possibly to Val Royeaux after that, but for now, I just want to stay here.”
“Well, we sure can make that happen,” Daveth answered, turning onto his side to look at Daylen with a smile. “Since the princeling is back, we might as well take the opportunity presented to us, right?”
Daylen chuckled at the way Alistair’s brow furrowed at the nickname Daveth gave him. “I hate you so much, I hope you know that.”
Still grinning at the warrior, Daveth asked: “Want to show me just how much, princeling?”
Daylen watched as Alistair tackled Daveth and pinned him to the bed, and as the rogue grabbed the warrior by the neck and pulled him down for a kiss, the mage couldn’t help but smile at his lovers.
After everything all three of them went through, they still had each other. Because of their responsibilities they couldn’t spend a lot of time together, sadly, but every time they did meet, Daylen felt like with Daveth and Alistair by his side he could not only be himself, but face anything.