Chapter Text
The dream starts the same way it always does. Garel wakes up, kisses the mage beside him awake and they get dressed as they discuss their plans for the day. Dorian reminds him that his clan is visiting, and Garel remains silent.
It jumps ahead, and he is walking down he steps towards the gates of Skyhold, towards the group of elves waiting. Two women, one young and one old, step forward. He recognises them as his Keeper and his oldest friend, Seva. Garel takes a step back, registering it is that dream, but the women are too close already.
“Garel, it is time.” The older woman says, gesturing to the younger. “You will, with Seva. It is your duty.”
Garel feels a hand on his shoulder and he turns to see Dorian. He looks confused.
“Garel?” He asks. Garel simply stares back at him.
“I am sorry Dorian. It is my duty.”
Inside his head, Garel is screaming as he moves away from Dorian, the mages hand falling off his shoulder. He continues to scream as he approaches Seva and takes her in a loving embrace, kissing her, before leading her past his former lover and towards his quarters. Dorian is on his knees and Garel is screaming for forgiveness, for death, but nothing he does changes what his body is doing. He is forced to watch from the inside as he undresses Seva, making comments he once would have made but are now not his. He has to watch the familiar way she bites her lip, and it isn't until his dream-self comes that he awakens in his real bed, screaming.
“NO!!” He screams as he shoots up. He is covered in sweat and quickly checks to see if there is any evidence of arousal or ejaculation. Unlike some nights, there is not. He relaxes for a moment. He hated that dream. His greatest fear is that his clan had some kind of hold on him, some way to make him, and others, perform their duty. To keep their clan alive. After all, he has never met an elf who only preferred the same sex. There are plenty, himself included, who enjoy the company of two or even many genders. Sometimes he wishes his clan had perished, that was this near-constant knot in his stomach would go away and maybe he wouldn’t be plagued with these dreams. A hand places itself on his thigh and Garel flinches.
“Are you okay?” Garel turns his head. Thankfully Dorian was not blessed with the same night vision elves were, or he would see the tears on his lover’s face. Garel however, can see the concern clearly on his face.
“I'm okay.” He goes to wipe at his face, but Dorians hand is there. He feels the tears and Garel sees his face age with worry.
“Tell me.”
“It's nothing,” Garel attempts a laugh, “Just imagined...”
“Garel.” Dorian cuts off his lie before it even forms. He is sat up now, both hands holding Garel's tightly. “Tell me. Please.” There is a long pause before he speaks.
“Creating children is very important to the Dalish. To keep our people alive.” Garel began slowly, but quickly his fear seizes him again and he begins to panic “It is often seen as a duty to have them. I sometimes worry…I am afraid my clan has ways of making me...fulfil my duty. Ways of making me leave you, leave the inquisition. I have nightmares, horrible nightmares where I'm stuck inside my head screaming for you. I see you cry for me and I cannot respond and I end up fucking Seva on our bed and…”
Dorian cuts him off with a gentle kiss on the cheek. Garel stares at him for a moment before he pulls him closer and kisses him fiercely. He needs him. He needs to know that he is real. He needs to get the feeling of Seva off his skin and out of his mind. He breaks their kiss for a moment. “Fuck me.” He hisses, his hand pressing over Dorians crotch.
“No.” Dorian looks horrified and moves further away. “You’re hurt Garel, you’re not thinking straight.”
“Please. I need you Dorian.” Garel begs, grabbing Dorian’s thigh. “I need us. I need to know they can't make me leave you, Ma’vhenan.”
“You've never told me what that means.” Dorian looks away from Garel, out one of the windows.
“You know what it means, I heard you asking Solas.” Garel sighs. This was not the first time Dorian had asked him about that word.
“I want to hear you say it. Not for me. For you” Dorian gets up off the bed and walks out onto the balcony. The distance allows Garel’s head to clear slightly, and after a moment he follows him. He stands next to him, elbows resting on the cold stone. The air helps.
They are silent for a long time. Garel is digging his fingers into his palm as he tries to make the words come out. Using elven made it seem less…big. Less real. He's not afraid of commitment, not afraid to commit himself to Dorian, but he often doubts why someone would commit to him. He had been a very angry child, and had decidedly overcompensated as he aged by turning everything into a joke. His people's gods, his responsibilities to his clan and now the inquisition, all things to be laughed at. Why anyone would want to be with someone who would mock the entire relationship he did not know.
The sun starts to rise when he finally speaks.
“You are my heart, Dorian. I don't want to leave you.”
“You won't.” Dorian says like it’s the truest fact in the world, rubbing Garel’s back. And it works. Those two words reassure Garel that no matter what duty his clan may have for him, whatever tricks they may use or words they may spin, he will not, can not, leave his heart. Garel kisses Dorian again, gently and on the cheek this time, and finds himself pulled into a loving embrace. He smiles.
“I won't.”