Shed your burdens

by midnightprelude, oftachancer

Summary:

Rilienus was happy at Skyhold, with his Southern lover and his work helping the mages of Ferelden learn their true power.

He would have said yes, a thousand times, but that was an age ago. Rilienus was not the man he had been when he had met the future Inquisitor in a shadowy brothel in the slums of Carastes. He would have said yes, whatever Dorian Pavus had asked. Why then, did it bother him so much that Dorian kept saying no?

Notes:

Points for being excessively long + the Anders pining prompt! This one ran a way a bit... Oops!

Chapter 1: Rilienus

Rilienus 

 

The glazed globes of ice were in varying states of ruin. Some melting where they floated, or sat in their own puddles unlifted. Others were solid, merged with the rafters above them with uncontrolled feats of force. 

It would have been much, much simpler to simply send the youths north to where mages with a skill at instruction in addition to casting resided, but that - he had been informed - would be tantamount to a declaration of war to many of the bumbling southerners he found himself surrounded by. 

“That’s a very nice butterfly, Jessa,” the blond healer assured the little girl whose lip was quivering. 

“It is,” Rilienus agreed, peering at the creation. “Elegant and detailed. And not remotely what was asked for. Could you attempt it again please? With focus this time?” He plucked the creation from the air and encased it in a solid bubble. “You can keep this for later if you learn to do as I’ve asked.”

“I’ll try,” the girl sniffled, which made him feel slightly awful, but less awful than he would have sending her into the world without a working fundamental understanding of how to formulate a shield. 

Anders was too soft with them. Rilienus supposed he could understand that, given his history. He’d been given far too many whips and not nearly enough rewards. And he’d scrapped together fervor and luck and will in lieu of craft and skill. That was well enough for Anders, but they couldn’t very well expect that all of the magelings would grow into deep wells of power that were undersigned by ancient spirits and unholy curses, nor could they wish for that. Apparently.

But the man was oddly appealing for a Ferelden. He’d have liked to think it was the rarity of the entity that resided within him, but Rilienus had a wary suspicion that his own loneliness and Anders’ were tightly aligned and in kinship was companionship oft born. 

And he had very interesting eyes. And a wicked streak that seemed to go on for miles. And he showed affection like a kitten, purring and tussling and nuzzling in a very pleasant way. Unseemly, of course, but pleasant. 

The Maker knew being seemly hadn’t ever gotten Rilienus much past heartbreak. 

“Again,” he announced, summoning the flawed globes and redirecting the children who had found success to the reading cushions for naps and refreshment. 

He had come south to make right the flagrant wrongs of his countrymen only to discover that he had been outpaced even there. By Dorian bloody Pavus of all people. 

Sunset-strewn silk sheets sweat-sullied in the sultry confines of a brothel house. He’d been eighteen and restless, and Dorian had been indecent and charming and absolutely beautiful, brilliant even when he was soused. They’d made love as only young and hungry men could. Insatiably. And over the next weeks, they’d stumbled together under eaves and in alleys again and again… until Dorian had ceased to return. Ceased, in fact, to be anywhere near Carastes at all. And the next time they’d met on the road in Minrathous, those pale gray eyes that had once melted like mercury as they gazed into his own had remained steely and disinterested. 

Heartbreak, indeed. 

To find the sterling scion of House Pavus in the south, surrounded by filth and ignorance, hailed as a voice for the backwards Orlesian Chantry… had been a shock to say the least. 

“Copper for your thoughts.” Amber was gentler than mercury or steel. 

“You consider my thoughts so cheap?” Rilienus murmured, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the wall beside the healer. His southern lover. If someone had suggested the idea to him mere weeks before, Rilienus would have considered it ridiculous. “Come back to me with an andris or a sovereign and we’ll talk.”

“ Oooh . Expensive thoughts.”

“Why waste precious time on the paltry?” He glanced at the blond. “I’ll take an Anders in lieu of an andris if you’re strapped, only because I’m feeling particularly generous.”

“Thank the Maker for that.” Anders took Rilienus’ hand in his own, lifting it to his lips. “You know well enough that I’m perpetually strapped, but I’d spend my last copper for a glimpse in here.” He tapped Rilienus’ temple gently. “What are you thinking?”

“That we aren’t equipped to educate, let alone take on a self-professed god, and the last thing I want to do is go demonstrate that before the masked nobility in Orlais.” Which was, in fact, another thing he’d been thinking that morning. That, and how pleasant Anders’ calloused fingers managed to be when he was feeling particularly piqued, and how odd it was that he thought so, and how the damned Inquisitor remained - still - the most jaw-dropping specimen of humanity he’d yet to witness in this realm or the next. “And if you tell them everything they do is marvelous, they won’t learn how to challenge themselves. There’s a balance to be had.”

“There are a few who may benefit from more one-on-one teaching.” Anders dropped his voice, glancing at Rilienus. “I’m glad that girl is still able to make butterflies; I think the older boys are tormenting her. I’ve not yet caught them, but… I’ve a feeling.”

“A feeling,” Rilienus repeated, following that amber gaze back across the room. “Are we dipping into augury, Anders?”

“No, I just-“ He wrinkled his nose. “Sometimes I know something is wrong, even when- Even though he’s not speaking to me anymore. Does that make sense?”

“Spirits speak in many ways.” Rilienus pursed his lips, squeezing Anders’ hand. “If they torment her again, what will be more helpful? A shield and weapon, or pretty ephemera?”

“Enough training so she doesn’t embarrass herself in front of her peers, I’d wager.” Anders smoothed his thumb over the pad of Rilienus’ smiling slightly. “You’re doing a good job, you know.”

“If our enemies come to this fortress as they did to Haven, every one of them will die, and many others besides.” Rilienus gritted the backs of his teeth. “I’m a poor teacher. They deserve better. Or better yet, to be somewhere safer. Somewhere with magic we understand and people who can focus on protecting them rather than… greater purposes.”

“And still, you’re doing a good job.” Anders tilted his head back towards the children. “Two weeks ago Lila could barely manage a spark and now she’s lighting candles and torches. Before that Kelman was levitating himself when he meant to be moving something else. You seem tired, love. Perhaps you need a nap and a cookie.”

“I do not require a cookie.” Though a nap wouldn’t have hurt. He’d stayed up half the night arguing with the Antivan woman about Halamshiral and had gotten absolutely nowhere. “A walk wouldn’t go amiss, once this lot manages a modicum of success.”

“Do you want company?”

Rilienus sighed. “Whose.”

“Mine?” Anders chuckled. “Was there someone else’s you were hoping for?”

Not hoping. Wishing. He knew better than to hope. “Yours would be most welcome, if you’ve time to spare.”

“For you?” Anders smiled slightly, his gaze warm and familiar. “I’ll make it.”

“I appreciate your generosity.” He ran his tongue over his teeth. “You’ve enough of everything you need for your work? I could while a few hours at bandages and potions this evening, if only to feel useful.”

“You don’t feel useful as it is?” Anders shook his head. “I’m fine. You could use the rest.”

“I abhor rest. I’m a scion of a self-destructive empire.”

“Even so. I can manage.” Anders lifted his brows. “You wouldn’t want to start getting lines under your eyes.”

“How dare you.” He touched his own chin. “As though I would tarnish this specimen. It is a responsibility.”

“And yet you’re determined to run on that dreadful drink you brought south with you and an hour or two of sleep a day.”

“Dr- Pardon me, do we need to speak of dreadful when Ferelden wine could easily be misconstrued as swine piss?” 

“ Children , Rilienus-“ 

“They should be warned. Maker forbid they try their hand at it on a lark and believe falsely that all spirits are so sour and thoroughly dispiriting.” He reached out a hand and spilled a wave of upward force beneath a shattering globe, holding the pieces in place. “Where did you go afoul, Gannon?”

“Too much force,” the boy sighed. 

“Begin again.” He coalesced the shards of ice into a ball of water and poured it back into the dark-haired boy’s bowl. “At this rate, my legs will atrophy.” Rilienus peered at Anders out of the corner of his eye. “…has he asked you yet?”

“Has who asked me what?”

“Our great and glorious leader about his impending foolhardy endeavor.”

“You say that almost fondly.” Anders chuckled, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the wooden frame of the shed. “Yes, but he’s mad to take me to Halamshiral. They hate me in Ferelden, sure, but they hate me even more in Orlais.”

“Ah well. I’d rather thought that to be hated in the south was a compliment to one’s abilities and exploits, no?”

A single gilded eye opened to peer at him. “Perhaps, but the rotten fruit and pitchforks do get old after the first couple of times.”

“That’s meant as a dissuasion?” Rilienus asked, batting his lashes in a performative naïveté. “I’d thought they were simply demonstrating their wares in a haphazard manner. My, how I’ve misread this whole situation.”

“You would be far better suited at the ball than I would. I can’t wrap my head around why he wouldn’t ask you. How many Tevinters is too many at a party?”

“That depends on who you ask. One, I imagine, to some of the Empress’s court.”

“Perhaps that’s it.”

“I rather doubt it,” Rilienus sighed, leaning beside him, studying the odd angles of the man’s face that somehow managed to come together in peace. “You’ll do well, I’m sure. If things go poorly - which they undoubtedly will - he’ll need your skills and your wisdom. And Orlesians love nothing better than a bit of drama.”

“I’d feel better if you were there. Perhaps I’ll suggest it-“

“I wouldn’t, if you’d like to stay on his good side.”

“…so-“ Both eyes were open now, studying him curiously. “ Did you know each other back there? Last time I asked, you changed the-“

“Hold that thought.” Rilienus tugged a bit of shadow from the corner, draping it over and around Anders as the door swung open. 

The Seeker peered inside, fingers flexing on the hilt of her sword. “Where is he?”

“You will need to be moderately more specific, my lady,” Rilienus murmured. “We’re in the middle of a lesson.”

“Anders,” she gritted.

“Hmmm.” Rilienus tapped his lips as he meandered towards her. “I really can’t recall. Have you tried the surgery?”

“I’m not in the mood for games at the moment, Maecilia.”

“But you are sometimes? How very excellent to know. Perhaps a light chess spar later this evening.”

She huffed, scanning the room. Floating globes and napping children. “Send him to the War Room if you see him.”

“I shall do my best, my lady.”

“And stop calling me that,” she muttered as she stalked back across the courtyard. 

“As you will, my lady!” he called after her. He tucked the door shut and redrew the charm on it. “Where were we? Walking . And a cookie? Was I promised a cookie?”

“You turned down the offer of a cookie, if I remember correctly.” Anders shifted, glancing nervously towards the door. “What do you think I did this time? I’ve been minding my manners admirably, I thought.”

“Exceedingly admirably,” Rilienus agreed as the last of the shadows retreated to their corner. “I suspect she’s just learned she’ll need to dress you in a uniform and march you before an empress. Jealousy is such a tepid little beast.”

“I look terrible in red,” Anders grumbled, his line of questioning about Dorian evidently forgotten. “It makes me look like I’m constantly blushing.”

“And what an exquisitely appealing look that is,” he purred, touching Anders’ cheek lightly. “Poppies and ginger. Shall we eschew the walk in favor of a glass so that we might remind you?”

“…you’ve falling spheres to catch still.” Anders melted Gannon’s yet again as it shattered. “But when you’ve finished, yes, I’d like that.”

Rilienus sighed deeply, rolling on his shoulder to assume his place at the wall beside Anders once more. “I could juggle these when I was four . It was supposed to be fun .”

“Because you had parents patient enough to teach you and to demonstrate for you before you even manifested. They’re terrified of their magic. I was terrified of my magic.” Anders knelt next to the boy, taking his hand and dipping it into the water. “You don’t need to force it to stay together; it wants to. Just let it be.”

Rilienus watched as the water wobbled and fluctuated around the boy’s hand. “Don’t worry about the shape just yet. Just lift it as one. One piece, whole, like a swath of silk, hm?”

Gannon glanced between them, frowning in concentration as he slowly lifted his hand and the water rolled off and around it. “Silk.”

Rilienus plucked a fold of his robe and touched it to the boy’s other hand. “Just like this. They’re the same. They’re tangible and smooth. Yes?”

“…I guess.”

“Anders is quite right. It wants to remain whole. You’re not asking it to fall apart, only to do as it would. Up.”

Gannon lifted his hand and the water swayed, dangling from either side of his hand. 

“Good. Very good. Eyes closed. Now bundle it up, with your will, into a ball.”

Slowly the dripping edges pulled together and lifted into a misshapen mass in the boy’s palm. “I’m doing it!”

“Calmly, Gannon. Now just a very light touch of what Lady Vivienne taught you yesterday.” Rilienus peered at the… well, it wasn’t rightly a globe. “Just to cool it down and help it to hold.”

Crystals crackled around the edges. “And let it rise. It wants to rise. Water rises as air. That’s why it’s one of the best things to practice with. Softly. Softly .” He stepped back. “There you are. Much closer.”

“Well done.” Anders caught a fluttering moth made of ice in his palm, offering it back to Jessa with a wink. “It’s a good showing. Cookies all around, Rilienus?”

“One each.” His parents had been patient. Patient and kind. They still were. And they would have loved this work. A houseful of children to dote on and teach to levitate to the sweetest fruits in the orchard. He glanced down to a small yellow-haired girl who was holding up half a cookie to him. “That one’s yours, Tula.” He touched the top of her head gently. “Cookies and rest. Then go find your elders and work on your mathematics.” He watched them file out of the room and carefully eased Tula’s hand from his robe, handing her off to the matron and watching her beam at him over the woman’s shoulder. “I’m ready for my cookie now.”

“You already said that you didn’t-“ Anders’ breath caught as Rilienus nibbled at the shell of his ear. “Oh, that kind of cookie.”

“I’m utterly famished.” He sniffed at the back of Anders’ head, nuzzling deep in his hair for the rich scent of his teas and herbs as he skimmed his hands down Anders’ sides. “A mirror,” he murmured. “I’ll make love to you until you’re cloaked in scarlet and cherry-” He could feel the sharp tug of awareness and lifted his gaze to the higher courtyard where Dorian stood. Watching them. His full lips set in a line. “Perhaps after you’ve made your visit to the War Room,” he grumbled. What had happened to him? He’d been so full of light. He still was, glinting and glimmering for nearly everyone else. But while he’d accepted Rilienus into his little entourage and occasionally even used his skills outside of Skyhold, he hadn’t gleamed for him since Carastes. Memories Rilienus had foolishly laid in marble. “Shall I accompany you?” he asked, turning from the Inquisitor to right himself. 

It didn’t matter that the gifted son of House Pavus no longer looked on him with any measure of pleasure. He was making his own way, doing right by his own house, trying to civilize the south inch by inch and make right the ancient wrongs of his country. And not everyone in the fortress despised him. Far from it. They didn’t trust him, certainly, but Rilienus was hardly alone in that.

Anders’ friends, for example, had taken to him expectedly swimmingly after the initial threats of violence. And his enemies seemed to find Rilienus the lesser of the two evils, which was fascinating in itself, but he hadn’t undertaken the task of convincing him that he really was a bit more dangerous than they seemed to think. He wasn’t an idiot. If they wanted to think he was a fop and a dandy, so much the better. He could be trusted to teach the magelings without teaching them ‘too much’ - whatever that meant. Rilienus had never discovered an iota of knowledge that didn’t bear some value. 

“Perhaps I can serve as a  distraction to the Seeker’s malaise.” Rilienus tilted his head. “If you’d like.”

“…would you come along with me?” Anders exhaled sharply, following Rilienus’ gaze up towards the Lord Inquisitor. “I’d appreciate it. Wait - Andraste’s knickerweasles, you changed the subject on me again . Did you know him before, in Tevinter?”

“Who really knows anyone?”

“Ril.”

“No time now, arbutus meus.” He dotted a kiss to Anders’ cheek and slipped to his side, crossing his wrists as they strode towards waiting steel. “Remind me later.”

“I’m going to. Mark it.” 

“I would much prefer to mark you ,” Rilienus murmured, smirking to himself. That idea held all sorts of promise.

“I know you would. And yet.” Anders rolled his eyes, climbing the stairs to where Dorian waited, surveying the extent of his domain. Hoards of refugees in ill-tailored uniforms. They could scarcely keep up with bandages, let alone arms or men and women trained enough to wield them.

“You’re here.” Dorian didn’t turn to them, his fingers curled around the steel of his staff. “Good. Then we can begin.”

“Begin what, precisely?” Rilienus asked. There was a small- alright not that small- part of him that very much enjoyed the way the man’s jaw seemed to flinch each time he spoke. As though he was expected to spill all of House Pavus’ secrets on the ground wheresoever he stood. 

“Ah. I hadn’t realized you’d be attending the council meeting, Maecilia.” Long, dexterous fingers tapped his staff. Paler than when they’d twined together under the Tevinter moon. “Preparations for the journey west and for the events awaiting us in Halamshiral.”

“It’s been simply ages since I had a chance to dabble in politics. I’d very much appreciate the opportunity if you don’t mind.”

“…I’ll speak to Ambassador Montilyet about your request.”

“We spoke of it just last evening.” And well into the morning. “But I’m certain she’ll want your approval as well. You are, after all, our intrepid leader.” He smiled. His smile, he’d been told, was a winning one. Anders loved to trace it. His parents had told him it was one of his best features and to use it carefully and sparingly. He’d thrown many a wasted one at Dorian’s feet, like wilting flowers. 

“Your talents are better suited here,” Dorian exhaled sharply through his nose. “I’ve heard nothing but praise for your efforts with the children from the Chantry Sisters-“

“The enemy of my enemy adores me, as they should.” He could almost hear his own teeth cracking with the effort of keeping the dismay from his expression. “Of course, it’s a united effort. Anders and Vivienne have both been essential-“

“I don’t understand why you’d take me over Rilienus.” Anders glanced between them, brows raised. “You’re taking a bull into a porcelain cabinet.”

“You’re hardly a bull. He has a Bull.” Much to Rilienus’ chagrin. “You aren’t planning on bringing the qunari, are you, Inquisitor?”

“No. Seeker Pentaghast will be loaning her martial skills to the endeavor.” 

“I stand corrected,” Rilienus murmured, casting his smile at more fertile ground. “They are bringing a bull, after all.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Anders chuckled, nudging him lightly with his hip.

“She has heard me say that. She took it as a compliment. Which,” he added, lifting his brows, “it is.”

Dorian cleared his throat. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I’ll see you shortly.”

“I thought you were waiting on him?” Rilienus tilted his head. “No?”

“We are.” Dorian turned on his heels, not meeting Rilienus’ gaze. “Quite shortly, I should hope.”

“I do hope there are snacks,” Rilienus glanced at Anders before the man could mention the obvious awkwardness. “Dear Josie has quite the repository in her desk. Little truffles covered in salt, the darling.”

“ …how did you know him, Rilienus?” Anders whispered, though not very quietly. “He practically fled. And that man dropped an avalanche down on a bloody dragon .”

Rilienus held his elbow tightly. “Everyone knows everyone generally among the Alti,” he explained quietly, which was true. To an extent. “Names and faces and whatnot. I’ve been cursed to be either loved or hated; I lost the coin toss in this particular venture. Let’s just be grateful there are no good poison merchants here, hm?” Rilienus lifted his chin, widening his eyes meaningfully. “Alright?”

“You think he would-“ Anders blinked. “Really? Why ?” 

“Oh, you sweet fellow,” Rilienus chuckled. “Why not ?”

“Why would someone want to assassinate someone they don’t even know?”

“That’s the easiest way to do it. Far more difficult is assassinating the ones you do know, and then going to their family’s house party. Or sitting the bench beside their father or their uncle or their child.” He glanced up as they stepped into the main hall. “We shall have to teach you a few basic spells before you visit the empress’ throne room. There aren’t usually as many murders at an Orlesian party, but there are still quite a few and for all the talk of their Great Game, their bards tend to be rather predictable.”

“…hm.” Anders lifted his brows. “So you’re looking after him like a lost pup because he wants to assassinate you. This makes complete sense.”

Rilienus nodded succinctly. “ Excellent ; I’m glad you understand. Then we can stop talking about it in earshot of the sculptors.”

“Fair enough, but I do have follow-on questions.” Anders lifted his brows meaningfully. “For later.”

“You’re more than welcome to bargain for answers.”

“Oh yes? I’ll give you my spot at Halamshiral, gladly, for gossip.” 

“If it’s gossip you want, you should keep your seat. Orlesians are notorious gossips. Three summers ago, we attended a fete in Val Chevin and after only an hour, I had enough chatter collected to blackmail at least two barons and five chevaliers.”

“It’s your gossip that interests me, love,” Anders circled his hands around Rilienus’ waist. “What business do I have with barons?”

“Barons donate to Chantries and have a great deal to do with the servants who service them. If it is your intent to affect the ruinous system of your people, it is easier and quieter to start at the bottom.” He glanced to where Dorian was entering the War Room ahead of them and leaned against Anders to whisper in his ear, “And you’re so very good at starting at the bottom.” He winked, slipping out of arm’s reach with a little hop and spun lazily through the door. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I was told there might be wine.”

“Lord Maecilia, I thought we settled this matter before breakfast, did we not?” Josephine peered at him from behind her clipboard. “Was there something else you wished to bring before the council?”

“Yes.” He offered her his smile and she at least received it, even if he knew it made little difference to her beyond setting a mood. “I really ought to go. I’m immune to seventy-three varietals of dreamsmoke and oleander, conversant in six languages, and I’m exceptionally charming.”

“Rilienus, I said ‘no’ .” Dorian had taken his seat, his eyes that same sharp shade of steel he’d encountered in Minrathous. “I’ll have a bottle sent to your rooms. Thank you.”

Rilienus crossed his arms. “I taught Gaspard de Chalons how to play Imperial chess. He likes me and I know how he thinks. I could help -“

“Rilienus, that will be all.” Dorian stood, staring him down. “My decision is final.”

“‘Altus Maecilia’,” Rilienus said stiffly. “You may have a glowing hand, my lord Pavus, but you are no better than I.”

“Thank you for reminding me, Altus.” Dorian’s jaw was so tight it was a wonder he had any teeth left at all. “I will try to keep it in mind.”

What had he done ? Was all this still over his concerns that Rilienus might spill his precious secrets? They were years in the past. “Do that.” Although… it was true, he mused. He had his own connections to the court at Halamshiral. He didn’t really need the permission of the Inquisition. He steepled his fingers with a little smile. “Well. What a pity. Best of luck then.”

“Thank you.” Dorian returned to his seat, deflating slightly as he smoothed his robes out behind him. “I’ll send my last Perivantium red to your chambers when I’m finished here.”

“I’ll pick you up a case in Val Royeaux.” He touched his forehead with a little bow. “I never much liked wearing a uniform in any case.”

The sigh he elicited from the Inquisitor was audible, even from across the room. Resignation over tired eyes. “As you will, Altus.”

Precisely. He tucked his tongue into his cheek as he slipped from the room with a nod and a wink to Anders. He was the scion of one of the First Houses, a graduate with honors of the Circle of Carastes, and the heir to House Maecilia. As he willed, indeed. He needed no one’s permission but his own.

Chapter 2: Dorian

Dorian

The Skyhold ramparts at midnight reminded him so very much of those that walled the Order of Argent. He had done much of his planning by starlight, staring at the city of Minrathous from a distance, feeling out the weaknesses in the shields that kept the Order’s so-called students within their prison. He dragged his cloak tighter around his shoulders, letting the runes keep the worst of the cold at bay while he watched the lights of the Herald’s Rest flicker, the sounds of laughter and debauchery lilting up to his ears on errant breezes.

They weren’t ready to meet with the Empress. They were less ready to challenge the Warden fortress to the west. He had scarcely felt so ill-prepared for something since he’d failed out of his healing exams after spending the evening in a brothel with a very handsome stranger who smelled of squid ink and dusty libraries, who would smile at him as though it meant something.

Now, it seemed, he couldn’t be rid of the man, despite his best efforts towards that goal. At least Rilienus still smiled. Even at Dorian, on occasion, though he had no reason to do so.

Not anymore, in any case. He thought he’d made certain of it when he’d fled Carastes without so much as a word.

Stubborn. Frustratingly so.

He could already scarcely breathe when the man was in the same room, let alone-

The same damned scent of squid ink touched his tongue a moment before he heard the footsteps on the stones behind him. “Rather late for a perambulation, isn’t it?”

“What is it you want, Rilienus?” He tightened his grip on the half-wall. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can give you that you can’t manage for yourself.”

“We both know that isn’t true.” Rilienus draped himself against the stones a few feet away. “I haven’t mentioned it, if that’s what you’re so peeved about.”

“I’m not-“ Dorian hissed, catching himself and beginning again. “I should certainly hope not.”

“Good.” Rilienus crossed his arms on the stones and rested his chin on them, watching him with narrowed eyes. “So what appears to be the trouble, exactly? I’m very tired of the attitude. Aren’t you?”

“…I beg your pardon?” 

“I didn’t sign up for your band of merry minstrels to play school teacher. If you didn’t want me here in the first place, you could well have saved us both a great deal of time.”

“I don’t think I can very well keep you from doing anything you wish to do and damn how anyone else feels about it.” Dorian lifted his brows, glancing towards him. Leaning as though he were perfectly at ease, when it felt as though knives were being pressed under Dorian’s flesh. “That attitude?”

“More untruths,” Rilienus murmured softly. “Tsk tsk, Herald.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“You’ve a cousin called Harold, haven’t you? Does it grow confusing?”

“…what is it you want?” Dorian exhaled sharply. “If you’re so interested in saving time.”

“I’d very much like to understand what I’ve done to become so irksome to you.” He tapped the clawed ring of his pinky on the stones. “And what I might do to right it. If that is possible.”

“You haven’t and it isn’t.” Dorian pressed his lips together. “Thank you for your concern. It’s a kindness.”

“So you simply have no need of my various skills. That’s it? You prefer the clunky lightning swipes of an Orlesian to your own countrymen?” Rilienus leaned up on his elbows. “You think a Seeker is more intimidating in the current state of affairs than an Imperial robe? You used to be much better at chess.”

“Your skills are exceedingly well-suited to the task at hand.” 

“Then why are you so set against putting them to use? It makes no sense.”

“Rilienus, must we truly do this?” If he could’ve flitted from the ramparts as a puff of mist, he would’ve, if only to avoid looking into those eyes. “Right now?”

“I have been waiting for it to magick itself correct for nearly three months to no avail.” He nudged himself from the wall, stepping closer. “Dorian, as good a liar as I am, I really prefer not to mislead people that I like and am attempting to foster trust within. You treat me differently from the others and they notice. If their savior cannot trust me, why should they?”

“I’ve never stopped trusting you,” Dorian admitted quietly. Stubborn and unyielding. “What I cannot seem to fathom is why you would ever trust me . Why did you stay, knowing I was here?”

Rilienus watched him silently for a long moment. The torchlight caught the poppy red blossoms in his eyes. “Why shouldn’t I?” he wondered. 

“…what?”

“Why shouldn’t I trust you?” Rilienus lifted a brow curiously. “Granted, I can’t quite understand a wide portion of your reasoning, but your intentions have always been… clear. I appreciate clarity, but not enmity.”

Dorian swallowed, then cleared his throat. “Enmity is a strong and inaccurate word.”

“Is it? It’s a very particular expression you wear in my company and it is rather eerily reminiscent of the Neromenian steel of fine dueling staves.”

“I don’t know what you wish for me to say.” Agonizing, watching him under the moonlight again. “Dueling staves, is it?”

“Hardened steel,” Rilienus agreed, stepping closer still, his shoulders thrown back with all the pride of his House. “I don’t know how I’ve wronged you, Dorian. It was never my intent to do so. It is not. If you could but explain -“

“You haven’t wronged me.”

“Then why do you hate me?” Rilienus spread his hands to the sides. “It cannot possibly be on principle. Once, you did not.” He swallowed, flexing his hands together and apart, gold and silver glinting by fire and starlight. “Once, we were friends. Weren’t we?”

“We were. That was…” Twelve years and four months. “Quite some time ago.”

“Is time such a boundary to kinship?”

“I don’t hate you, Rilienus.” Dorian massaged his temples, closing his eyes. “Can we not leave it there?”

“Yet there is steel.” Rilienus shook his head, lowering his voice. “Yet there are questions. Yet you do not demonstrate any measure of trust. Do you think I want to put myself at odds with the whole of a southern fortress over a matter of logic ? Do you think I enjoy being at odds with you? I do not, yet I am forced to fight my way out of the corners you thrust me into.”

“What do you aim to glean from me?” Dorian met his gaze, miserable, wishing he could sink into the stones and become one. “That I cannot bear to stand in the same room as you? Is this what you want to hear?”

“Why would anyone want to hear that?” Rilienus stared at him, all emeralds and rubies and night sky. “Is that not the definition of enmity? Why should my presence be harmful -”

“I’ll try to be more supportive,” Dorian promised, his throat burning. Once he’d happily have drowned in those eyes, but now it felt as though they might swallow him whole. “I had meant to spend this evening alone, if it’s all the same-“

“You said I had neither wronged nor offended you.” Drowned and sank for hours. They gleamed, bottomless. “Is it so great a request to understand why you find me repulsive?”

“I don’t find you-“ Dorian winced, shaking his head. “I enjoyed our time together very much, but it was ages ago-“

“I told you: you were quite clear about your intentions. It is the reasoning behind them that befuddles me. Is that-“ Rilienus blinked slowly. “You feel ill in my presence because of that? Because of then? I don’t- I’m sorry. I don’t understand. What-“

“Please don’t apologize to me .” Dorian wrinkled his nose. “ I’m sorry. I-“ He braced himself against the stone, watching the moonlight catch the clouds that hovered around the mountain peak. “It wasn’t my wish to leave you, in Carastes.”

“…I’m sorry?” Rilienus breathed, hoarse. “How-“

“My father had taken an interest in my… extracurricular activities. Had begun sending spies to dog my heels.” The words spilled from him in a rush, now that the sluice had been lifted. “I imagine if they’d linked you and I together, he’d have tried to destroy you, one way or another.”

“I’m an Altus of one of the first Houses. It would take several hands to count the number of people who actively wish to destroy me.” He could feel the heat from the man against the length of his arm, inches away. “…You did not tire of me?”

He shook his head, fearing any words he dared to utter would shake as severely as his hands were.

“Dorian.” A coaxing, tasting of his name as he had not heard it in years. “Still?” he asked, his whisper touching Dorian’s cheek in a warm breath. 

“I’m very pleased you’ve found happiness here, my friend.” Dorian touched his arm, turning away. “You’ve deserved it.”

“As do you.” A hand on his wrist, warm gold against his skin. “I would teach you to breathe easy with me once more, if you wished it.”

“ How ?” He couldn’t look at him and remain standing. The feeling of Rilienus’ fingers on his skin caused his eyes to sting. “ Why ?”

“I was not the one who left,” Rilienus reminded him softly. “And you are fiercely in need of joy.” A thumb brushed his pulse point. “I have thought of our time together often. Wondered over it. Mourned its loss.”

“Thank you.” Dorian touched his hand gently, tracing the calluses on his thumb. “I’m afraid I’m obliged to decline, as generous as your offer is.” Rilienus deserved to be kissed in the sunshine, nor relegated to whorehouses and wine sinks. Dorian withdrew, sliding his still warm hands into the folds of his robe. “Thank you for making it, anyway. Is there anything else I might help you with this evening?”

“Is it going to be a problem?” Rilienus asked quietly. “My attending Halamshiral?”

“If you’re set on attending, I’ll ensure it isn’t. I’ll convey my blessing to Lady Montilyet in the morning, if you’d prefer.” As though it would be possible to breathe, let alone dance knowing Rilienus would be present, dressed in his finest silks, a glittering jewel of the Imperium. But Dorian had encountered his own share of impossibilities of late. He could give this one, as a meager apology, if nothing else. “Good evening, Altus Maecilia.”

“You called me Ril.” His voice caressed Dorian’s ears, quiet and intent. “You were the first to do so. I wouldn’t mind if you did again.”

“I can’t,” Dorian murmured, turning back against his better judgement. “I hope you understand.”

“I won’t hurt you.” More than a gleam. A sheen, damp kohl beneath dark eyes. “Whatever it is you fear, I can fight it.”

“That’s the trouble.” Dorian touched his cheek gently. “I don’t want you to need to.”

“Too bad.” Rilienus touched his hand, holding it steady. “I will need it regardless. Why in Thedas do you think that I stayed?”

“Because you love the wine.” Dorian sniffed, unwilling to move from his touch. “And the perpetual threat of head-lice.”

“Swine piss and filth and an appalling lack of sidewalks.”

“Just so.” Dorian drew his hand backwards, cradling the nape of Rilienus’ neck and running his fingers through curls that were softer than he remembered. “I want you to be happy , Ril. Let me have that, if nothing else.”

“Is that what you want?” Rilienus asked him, nose brushing his own. “For me to be happy? No matter what?”

“And alive , preferably.” Dorian closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of him. “I don’t want to be the reason you wind up in an infirmary or worse. The thought has always terrified me and then the fact that I cared terrified me.”

“You cared?” Rilienus nuzzled him gently. “Or you care?”

“Rilienus, we shouldn’t-“

“You want me to be happy,” Rilienus breathed ink and parchment, quiet corners and lounging on long silk-covered chaises. “What if this makes me happy? Would you deny me?” His lips brushed Dorian’s as he spoke, barely more sound than breath. “I have missed you.”

To feel his warmth again, effortless and unrestrained- That Rilienus would be willing to share it with him again after time and distance and agony- Dorian dragged him closer to taste the remnants of sun-warmed wine from his lips, as though they were eighteen and believed in such foolhardy things as love. “And I you,” he admitted, unsure if he said the words or simply thought them. “More than you can possibly know.”

Rilienus sighed low, fingers sliding up Dorian’s arms. “ Show me.” Kisses like warm rain. Nails caressing the back of his neck. “Dorian-“

“We can’t,” Dorian repeated, the words sounding even more hollow to his ears. “You’ve your southern lover and I’ve got- all of this to worry about.”

“We can .” Rilienus nudged him back against the wall, kissing across his cheek. “Let me show you how well. It is night and there is time before you have anything more to do about your worries. Allow me to divest you of them. Let me be happy. Let yourself .”

“Tonight,” Dorian agreed softly, lost again among the emerald fields of his warm, welcoming gaze. “I won’t deny you tonight, philomela mea .”

Rilienus exhaled low, leaning close, hip to hip. “Your quarters or mine?” He was already plucking at buckles, slipping his fingers beneath straps to caress Dorian’s skin. 

“Mine are roomier,” Dorian wrapped his arms around his waist. “And you’re better at sneaking out than I ever could hope to be.”

Rilienus lifted his brows. “Am I?” He smoothed his hands up over Dorian’s shoulders, drawing the darkness over and around them like a veil as they slipped towards the main tower. Into the main hall unseen and through the door to stumble up the stairs. Laughter on his lips and in his eyes, as though no time or anguish had passed between them. Whistles and tugs peeling Dorian’s leather and silk free. His hands sliding over Dorian’s skin, smooth and warm and eager. His lips mapping Dorian’s shoulders and chest as they crested the stairs together, breathless. 

Wanted . 

Wanted for something other than the glowing mark on his hand.

He lost himself to sensation, against his better judgment, waves of emotion he’d made every effort to stifle further unlocked with each brush of lips to his skin. 

How many times had he imagined this? This reconciliation? Forgiveness for fleeing when he could’ve tried to explain-

Better. Better than he could have hoped. Better than he had a right to accept.

Rilienus feasted upon him like a man starving, recalling the place behind his ear that made his toes curl, kissing along lines of scars Dorian hadn’t sported the last time they’d met. Acceptance and forgiveness in the smile he wore as he took Dorian into himself, making them both laugh and groan in turns, holding each other so tightly that anyone who tried would have a damnably hard time separating them.

They sprawled, intertwined, among thick quilts over smooth cotton sheets. And still Rilienus touched him, tracing sweat across his chest in patterns to cool and warm by turns. Kissed him, lingering, nuzzling his nose into Dorian’s armpit to nibble at his flesh. “Magnificent.” His voice hoarse from use. “You’re magnificent, still.”

“I’ve missed you,” Dorian repeated, helpless. “Stay with me tonight.”

“I will.” Rilienus leaned over him, smoothing the kiss-matted curl of Dorian’s mustache with his pinky. His eyes were maddening things: rich dark green spotted with red like blood spilled on a mossy forest floor. And that smile that had caught him when they’d been young and foolish persisted still, somehow, even when years and experiences had worn away at Dorian’s own. It was there now, soft and wide and sideways, spilling across love-stung lips. He touched Dorian’s cheek, kissing the bridge of his nose right below his third eye. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He wouldn’t ask Rilienus to keep that promise come dawn, but the words were pleasant enough to hold onto for now. Nearly as pleasant as the fellow curled in his arms, but that was an impossible mountain to scale for mere letters and sounds. “Good. My sleep was always better when you were near.”

“Was it?” Rilienus chuckled softly, easing into the circle of his arms comfortably. “I recall precious little slumber.”

Dorian chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Oh, the overwhelming power of youth.”

“They were good days.” His hands never quite seemed to stop moving, wandering soft as petals across the planes and angles of Dorian’s body like worshipping butterflies. “So are these, in their way.”

“ Are they?” 

“Perhaps not ‘good’ .” Rilienus hummed, the sound meandering around the room to douse candles one by one. “Important. Powerful. Meaningful in a different way. Valuable, for a certainty. Full of the same levels of hope and promise, made more impressive by the darkness in which they’re found. A flicker of light when one’s mana feels spent is far more important than a valley of bonfires at one’s peak.” He kissed Dorian’s shoulder gently. “And you’re here. You taught me what magic was meant to be. You still do.”

“You can’t say things like that, Maecilia,” Dorian nipped at his lips, purposely ignoring the uncomfortable fluttering in his chest. “A man might let it go to his head; who knows what havoc that might cause.”

“Havoc beyond a Tevene Altus being the Herald of the south’s beloved Andraste?” Rilienus snorted softly. “Beyond the sky being torn asunder by a pretender to the ancient thrones, while demons emerge from sneaky little portals all round a sheep-studded countryside? How much havoc are we talking? Not much by comparison, I shouldn’t think.” He rested his chin to Dorian’s, peering at him quizzically. “You ought to be well-accustomed to adoration by now.”

“Yours has actual basis in reality.” Dorian lifted his brows. “I can’t profess to know the Maker’s will, but I doubt it’s to make some sort of prophet of me.”

“Heretic,” Rilienus chided, amused, kissing his lower lip gently. “And yet I think you’re wearing the mantle fairly well.”

“I’ve led followers to their deaths and have made a habit of murdering my former peers.” Dorian studied him curiously. “Does that not give you pause?”

“Every leader leads followers to their deaths, and you wouldn’t be much of an Altus if you weren’t murdering your peers.” Rilienus smiled lazily, brushing his fingers across Dorian’s brow. “I’ve murdered quite a few myself.”

“Have you?” Dorian watched his lashes flutter over sharp green eyes. “To what end?”

Rilienus tilted his head. “I don’t much like the way they dress, for one. Pointy hats are so dated.” He smiled slightly. “And other… more particular reasons. Are you not given pause?”

“About you?” Dorian traced his lip with his thumb. “I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things. Top marks at Carastes, was it? And a commendation from the Senatorial Council on your work in spatial manipulation?”

Rilienus laughed quietly. “That wasn’t a commendation. It was a bribe. They’re quite peeved that I won’t tell them how I achieve distance travel without side effects. So, for the record, is your spymaster.” He pressed a series of gentle kisses down Dorian’s chin and throat until he was lightly nipping at his chest. “Your bed is nearly the size of my little burrow, I’ll have you know.”

“I do, as it happens,” Dorian chuckled, tucking a curl behind Rilienus’ ear. “I thought you’d prefer a smaller room that wasn’t missing part of its roof. You’re very welcome.”

“I’ve shared beds with you below open roofs. You don’t remember that place with the grilled dates?” Rilienus kissed along the curve of his pectoral muscle, watching him curiously. “And that fern wine that was oddly appealing? You wore that robe that had the velvet lining and you tried to convince me that if I simply slipped my scrolls beneath the pillow while we made love, I’d learn cartomancy just as well as if I were studying it.”

“ Did you?” Rilienus remembered the outfit and the environs. That odd little flock of hummingbirds returned to his chest. “I liked Aureum Caelum. I’ve not returned since last we were there.” 

“It’s under new management. That waify fellow with the red hair who hailed from Rivain? He’s the new manager. Not terrible. Patched up the holes in the roof, for one.” His smile widened and softened, his gaze steady. “I wouldn’t mind another visit, after all this has been handled.”

“My, my, already planning for the future, are we?” Dorian squeezed his hand, lifting it up to his lips. “I hope you get the chance to return, Ril. Truly, I do.”

“You don’t think you will?” Rilienus asked quietly, his brows furrowing. “Or you don’t plan on it?”

“To Tevinter?” He shook his head. “No. I’m afraid there’s little for me there any longer. And that’s assuming… It’s assuming handling is possible. For me.”

“I thought you said it was no longer paining you.” Smooth fingers ran gently over the back of his hand. “We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s happening.”

“It’s not paining me substantially,” Dorian corrected, twining their fingers together. “It’s not a magick that was meant to be bound to a mortal being. Eventually, I will cease to remain in control and it will tear me apart, body and spirit.”

Rilienus stared at him unblinking. “…And that’s just fine by you, is it?”

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” Dorian rolled his eyes. “I’m trying . I simply have other, more pressing matters, like bringing down a would-be god.”

“The resonance shape keeps changing. If you’d actually allow me to study it, there might be a way to shift it to another vessel.”

“I…” Dorian glanced away. “I know you’ve mentioned this to Solas.”

“I was denied. As I was denied from accompanying you to the temple ruins on the Waking Coast, and to Halamshiral. Well. You’re breathing well enough now.” Rilienus lifted his brows. “Will you continue to push me away?”

“…no.” Dorian held out his palm, closing his eyes. “You don’t think I can convince you to study my hand while we make love again, can I?”

“I think you could convince a bluebird to dance upon the head of a cat,” he mused, kissing Dorian’s wrist as he gently tilted his hand. “You’re very handsome. And very charming. Exquisite, really. So exquisite I’d really prefer to see you preserved.”

“Perhaps you’ll have better luck than I have.” Dorian watched him, exhaling a quiet sigh. “Keeping things alive has never been my strong suit. I know just enough to realize things are going poorly, but not enough to put a stop to it.”

“Anders could do a better job than I,” he murmured. “I can heal in a pinch, but there’s no elegance to it. Between us, though-” He hummed quietly and the mark flexed in answer. “It seems to be maintaining its access shape since Solas put a binding on it. Externally in any case.”

“Yes, it’s working for now, but my estimates - as approximate as they are - demonstrate fairly clearly that whatever manipulations we manage from this side will eventually be insufficient to contain the energy that emerged from that damnable orb. I will be insufficient.”

“ You aren’t capable of being insufficient,” Rilienus said quietly, not looking up from his study. “Only stubborn. And steely. With an obnoxious habit of thinking if you can’t do something alone, then it can’t be done.” He tilted his head, drawing shapes in the air above Dorian’s hand and the light wavered and shifted as he hummed again. “What I’d really like to do is travel through it and get a good look at the other side. I’ll need a circle and quite a few items; I can order a few from Nevarra and collect the rest from Neripostes and Val Royeaux.”

“Under no circumstances.” Dorian stared at him. “Do you have a death wish?”

“You’re not remotely curious what you’re a portal to? Or why the elements of your Mark close and open the portals the demons come through? There are a multitude of answers hiding on the other side of that light.”

“You want to go bodily into the Fade.” Dorian shook his head, his throat tight. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. No one goes bodily into the Fade.” Rilienus glanced up. “I’d send my psyche.”

“…it’s still risky.” Dorian squeezed his hand. “Ril.”

“ There it is.” He sighed, smiling, and kissed Dorian’s thumb. “I’ve missed the sound of that.”

“I’ve missed saying it.” Dorian hugged him, trying to distract him from his hand. “You. I’m grateful you were stubborn enough to stay.”

“Ah, well. I do enjoy challenges. And even at the other end of your steel and disregard, it’s been pleasant to see you again. I may have a slight penchant for masochism.”

“Have you?” Dorian nuzzled his nose. “As I recall, you were decadently indulgent. Has that changed?”

“Does it seem to have?” Rilienus slithered up to lounge against Dorian’s side, stroking the hollow of his throat. “If there were sparkling apricot wine in this forsaken clime, I would drink it solely from your collarbones and the lovely little divet above your abdomen. Perhaps I shall acquire some in Orlais.”

“One can only hope to be so lucky.” Dorian wrapped his arm around Rilienus’ waist, stroking down the ladder of his ribs. As svelte and dangerous as a jungle cat, but he purred like a kitten when he was pleased. “My chambers are yours, then, should you wish for a return visit. If only for an increase in yardage.”

“I very much enjoy your yardage,” he mused, smirking, kissing his cheek before he settled comfortably against his side. “I might even like to taste it again before dawn.”

And that was that. No recriminations. No prying. Rilienus simply cuddled into place exactly as he had when they’d been young and naive and inebriated, content and very pleased with himself. 

And he wanted to go prodding about inside of the Anchor. 

Perhaps he would forget. Perhaps he could be dissuaded or distracted.

Regardless, it was a worry for a sleepless night in the future. 

Dorian turned his cheek to breathe in the sweet scent of him and for the first time in a very long time, he didn’t feel a twinge of guilt at the reminder of what they’d once shared.

Chapter 3: Dorian

“Really?” Josephine perched forward in her chair, peering at him curiously. “You’re quite certain.”

“I am.”

“You were so adamant that he not attend-” The Antivan woman pursed her lips, glancing over her checklist. “May I ask why you’ve altered your opinion?”

“We had a misunderstanding when we were younger, entirely my fault.” Dorian pressed his lips together, glancing away. “He’s a good man and well-suited to an endeavor of this sort. It was unfair of me to allow my personal… complications guide my decisions.”

Josephine was a clever woman. Irritably clever sometimes. Her expression remained curious, unrelentingly. “Oh, yes?”

“Yes.” Dorian wound his wrists at his spine. “That’s all I’d like to say on the matter.”

She lifted a brow. “Have you thought about who you will leave behind for the mission? Or do you plan to allow him to make his own way as planned?”

“I…” Dorian blinked. “No, I suppose it requires some more consideration. Anders did express his particular disinterest, though; perhaps that’s a start.”

Josephine pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes on her notes. “…Leliana would prefer that Anders of Kirkwall be in attendance.”

“I know she would.” Dorian sighed. “And Vivienne knows the court and Cassandra is an appeasement to the Chantry and a bang up warrior besides.”

“Lord Maecilia can make his own way. Our informants have relayed that he was not in jest when he said so. The question becomes: how much of a connection should we make clear? After all, if he attends under Senatorial accreditation and by diplomatic means, he might well be able to learn things that our scouts and your retinue cannot. He has not been seen in your company outside of Skyhold. It’s quite likely there aren’t many who are aware of his work with us.” She glanced at Dorian. “But he would lack our protection.”

“He will have mine, if he requires it.”

She lifted her brows. “Childhood friends.”

Young adulthood, but it was close enough. “Just so.”

The ambassador made a note and bowed her head. “I will let Lord Maecilia know of the arrangement. Anything else regarding Halamshiral?”

“If you’d share the details with him, I would appreciate it.” He smiled slightly. “Any chance we could wear a shade other than red?”

She huffed. “We’ve discussed this. It is imperative that the retinue stand out among the other visitors. Red has an ancient meaning to Empress Celene’s house.”

“I look awful in red,” Dorian sighed. “You’ve seen me. It washes me out.”

“You will look wonderful. You always do. And more importantly, Empress Celene won’t be able to miss you.”

“She wouldn’t if I were in silver, either. I’ve an exceptionally commanding presence.”

“In any color,” she assured him. “Have you had a chance to read the missives from our scouts near Adamant?”

“Did they arrive last night?” Dorian winced. “No, I didn’t get the chance. I meant to, but I fell asleep reading.”

She moved to her desk, shuffling through papers on her desk and brought a ribboned scroll to him. “A summation of relevant details. Leliana wishes to speak to you about it before you all depart. It will take some time to reach Halamshiral. I’ve arranged for a stay for you to refresh from the road before the fete.”

“Much appreciated. There’s little worse than shaking hands when one smells like they’ve been marching through muck.”

“Of course.” She rested her clipboard on her hip, watching him. “…you know that you can talk to me, don’t you?”

Dorian quirked a brow, his breath catching slightly in his throat. “What precisely are you insinuating, my lady?”

“I only meant to say, Inquisitor, that I- that all of us- are on your side. If there is anything- anything at all- that you require support in, I hope that you can trust me.”

“Ah.” He patted her hand gently, willing a smile to warm his expression. “I do appreciate it, my lady. I’ll be certain to let you know if something arises.”

“Of course.” She looked down at her hands, soft dark ringlets falling against her cheeks. “You seem… lighter today. I am happy for you.”

“Thank you.” He nodded, clearing his throat. “A good night’s sleep can do wonders.”

“Then I shall make an effort to see that you have ample time for rest in the coming weeks,” she offered with a sharp nod. “Perhaps a longer journey for more time per day?” 

“Then we’ll need to leave by the end of this week.” Dorian frowned, flexing his hands at his sides. “Will we be ready?”

“We can be. I’ll see it done.” She rested her quill at the top of her board. “Is there anything else you need at the moment?”

“That will be all for now.” He tapped his staff lightly on the ground. “I’ll get to these reports, shall I?”

“Excellent,” she agreed. “Leliana would be pleased to speak with you on the matter when you’ve had time to consider it. Ah, Lord Maecilia! Just who I was hoping to see. If you could step into my office,” she waved towards the balcony. 

Rich emerald velvet robes that hugged his form and draped by turns, dusting the stones in his wake like a waterfall. Rilienus wiggled his brows as he meandered towards her, patting Anders’ shoulder as they parted. “No rest for the wicked, I see. As it happens, I’ve a bit of news for you as well, Lady Montilyet,” he murmured, kissing her hand as he stepped past her. “Inquisitor,” he murmured with a little bow of his head, a smirk playing about his lips. 

“Rilienus,” Dorian acknowledged him with a nod, slipping out of the room and into the Great Hall. Where did he even manage to find velvet in this wasteland? Indecently pleased with himself, which was bound to get them both in trouble. He’d need to speak to the man about discretion-

He paused and the odd echoing of his footsteps took a moment to respond. Dorian glanced back to find Anders of Kirkwall a few steps behind him, beaming, watching him. “Do you have a moment?”

“Ah… yes.” He glanced around the room full of chattering nobles and Chantry Sisters. “Perhaps elsewhere, if it requires any manner of privacy.”

“It requires that you take a look at the state of the surgery.” Anders nodded towards the tall doors leading to the courtyard. “Maybe slightly more than a moment,” he admitted with a roll of his eyes. Rilienus’ influence could be seen on the mage in small ways. When he’d arrived at Skyhold in the Champion of Kirkwall’s wake, the healer had been worn and weary, inside and outside. The dark circles under his eyes had steadily retreated in the months since, though he retained the simmering sense of an unwatched cauldron. The threadbare robes had been, slowly but surely, replaced or repaired until there was nary a patch nor hole in sight, though the rare instances where he’d glimpsed the man in richer fabrics seemed short lived. 

“Certainly,” Dorian followed him out the hall and into the brisk air. Not that he needed a tour of the surgery to know it was likely wretched. It was difficult enough to manage to grow and gather the proper herbs Anders requested - though the herbologists were making tremendous progress on that front. Anders pried open the repurposed barn doors before the low stone extension from the keep wall that had become the fortress’ medical hub since he’d arrived. Dorian could admit that it did seem preferable to the tents in the mud at Skyhold’s entrance although-

“As you can see,” Anders pointed towards the ceiling and through it towards the blue sky above. “You can see. I understand that many of the facilities here are under repair, but this is untenable. I was under the impression we were waiting for a chimney to be installed so that I could brew tonics here rather than running back and forth to the alchemical lab, but now I’ve been informed those resources are being reallocated to a new barracks.” 

He’d been expecting… something. A confrontation over Rilienus. Questions. Possibly even some attempt at blackmail, though Anders hadn’t given the impression up to that point that he was the type to attempt such a thing. Had Rilienus not told him? 

“There are more people coming every day. I understand they need places to sleep and train. But with more people comes more disease. It will spread unchecked if there isn’t a place to isolate the contagious, and right now there are holes in my walls and my roof.” Anders crossed his arms. “The Seeker told me to put the worst cases in the cells under the keep. Cells , Inquisitor.”

“That’s untenable,” Dorian agreed quietly.

“It’s- Yes. That.” The blond huffed. “I’m glad you understand.” Slowly, he uncrossed his arms, tugging a swath of blond hair over his shoulder. “There’s room to extend this space outward into the upper courtyard. It needn’t be stone to begin. Thatch and wood that was properly treated could do well in the short term.”

“Is the capacity insufficient?” Dorian lifted his brows.

“It will be. Illness spreads swiftly, in seasonal bursts, and that’s when my patients aren’t actively engaged in assaults on demons and brigands. Half your soldiers won’t even agree to take preventative measures because they’re ‘magic’. They’re just herbs and basic nutritional supplements.” He leaned back on a canvas covered table. “It’s only been the injuries to scouts and pilgrims and the occasional sweep of colds and chills so far. I know. But I’ve seen how fast that changes as soon as a battle rages. If your army sees a true fight, we aren’t going to be ready to care for them.” He frowned, glancing up towards the hole in the ceiling. “We need to be. Soldiers get hurt no matter how well they’re trained, and many of yours are just now learning which end of the sword is the sharp bit.”

“Right.” Dorian tilted his head to the side, pressing his lips together. “Do you happen to know where the spare lumber is kept?”

Anders blinked. “…there isn’t any spare, Inquisitor. What arrives is marked by the seneschal, according to your council’s directions.”

“But there are old buildings that need to be dismantled, are there not?”

“…yes.” The fellow wrinkled his nose. “I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.”

“Follow me,” Dorian smiled slightly, padding over towards a run down… something. He touched the surface of a beam, not that he knew much about wood, but it seemed sturdy and stable at its core, even if much of the building had collapsed. He exhaled slowly and lifted the thing out of the earth with a press of will, setting it down beside the clinic. He tapped the edge of his staff along the length and the wood split into perfect rectangles, which he emblazoned with the symbol on the placard outside Anders’ surgery. “I’ve requisitioned you more lumber and have marked it. I’ve minimal talent for building, though, so I’d request assistance elsewhere. Does that help?”

Anders stared at the wood. “In a way,” he admitted, “though it doesn’t address the fact that there’s a fundamental misunderstanding and underestimation of the medical requirements of the Inquisition.” He glanced up. “It is a start, though.”

“Help me understand, will you?” Dorian padded into the clinic and took a seat. “I’ve at least an hour before anyone realizes I’m missing. Hopefully.”

Anders nodded, pulling the door shut with a thud. “Fundamentally,” he sighed, dropping to the bench opposite. “I’m worried that my work is being sidelined because of my… history with your Seeker. And your Commander.” He rubbed his temples. “I understand limited resources; I ran a clinic on my own in a sewer for years and after that- well, it isn’t as though the Wardens exactly have disposable incomes. I know how to work with very little, but there’s limited and there’s insufficient. They seem to think that if something - or someone - breaks, they’ll need to replace them. It’s a triage mentality, but we’re not in triage yet. We can do better, preparing for the worst.”

“I’d prefer that no one is considered impossible to help,” Dorian said quietly. The deaths of those who’d fallen at Haven weighed heavily on him. “Come to me with your requests and I will see to them to the best of my ability.”

“Thank you.” He leaned on the table, patting Dorian’s hand. “That means a great deal to hear. May I take a look?” Anders nodded towards the gauntlet wrapped around Dorian’s palm. “Rilienus mentioned he had some thoughts about the Mark. How has it been treating you?”

“It’s bothering me less since the breach was sealed.” Dorian unbuckled leather, unwrapping the cloth that covered his palm. Unmarred, for now. “…is that all he told you?”

Anders quirked a brow. “What do you mean ‘all’?” He thumbed Dorian’s palm clinically, then held his own above it, radiating a small measure of warm light. The Mark didn’t answer. 

“About me.” Dorian glanced away. “I don’t know.”

“He’s happy,” Anders murmured, flexing Dorian’s fingers one by one. “Relieved. Are you?”

“Ah. So… you know, then?” That was bizarre in and of itself, not to mention disconcerting. 

“That troubles you?” Anders tilted his head. “Why?”

“ Why ?” Dorian lifted his brows. Because it endangered both of them. Because he’d fled his homeland over that very sort of predicament. “It isn’t looked kindly upon by most in Tevinter.” That, at least, was true enough.

“Oh.” The healer peered curiously at the base of Dorian’s palm, flexing his wrist. “They didn’t want us to love in the Circle either. I wonder if it’s for the same reasons.”

“It isn’t so much about love as fulfilling one’s obligations to their family and the Imperium.” Dorian sniffed. “Ones I’ve no intent on fulfilling. So.” He cleared his throat. “My people dislike being reminded of rebellion.”

“Ah.” Anders rested his hand back on the table with a pat. “I didn’t know. He never mentioned anything about it to me one way or another.”

“…he doesn’t seem to mind the attention. Perhaps his situation is different than mine.”

“So I should take down the banners, you’re saying?” he asked with a slight smile. 

“Banners?” Dorian blinked. “What-“

“It was a joke.” His eyes gleamed as he sat back. “Maybe a poor one. Most of mine are. I’m happy for you, regardless of how your country feels.”

“Really? No… reservations whatsoever?”

He rested his chin on his fist. “It’s nice to finally see him relax. He’s been all twisted up and wasn’t telling me why; I’ve been trying to get to the bottom of the mystery for weeks.”

“I’m glad you’ve finally been able to find the root of the matter.” Strange that he managed to have such an effect on Rilienus, after all of their time apart. “I do apologize for any pain it’s caused you. And him, obviously. You’re… certain my seeing him isn’t going to sour things between the two of you?”

“Strange as it may seem, I do actually prefer for my lovers to be happy.” He chuckled softly, lowering his gaze to the table. “Sometimes they even manage to remind me how to do it myself. He’s been very clever at that, our Rilienus. So long as you’re not wanting to sour things, I doubt very much that you will. Do you?”

“Doubt, or wish to sour things?”

The healer’s smile flickered. “Either, I suppose.”

“No.” Dorian smiled slightly. “I don’t. I’ve been a fan of your work for some time, as it happens. It wasn’t a match I was expecting, given I didn’t think to see the man this far south or you in sight of Chantry banners, but I’m pleased for you both. Exceedingly so.”

Anders bowed his head, the wariness softening. The slight tension around his eyes eased. “As am I. And for you.”

“Thank you.” Dorian lifted his brows, pleased to have comforted him. The man seemed exhausted every time he saw him. “You know, I happened upon a treatise during my journeys that reminded me very much of you. Interesting reading, actually.”

Anders folded his arms on the table, resting his cheek atop them as he eyed Dorian curiously. “Reminded you of me how, exactly?”

“I do listen when I’ve heard you speak, you know.” Dorian chuckled to himself. “It’s difficult to imagine the world the southern mages came from, when mine was so starkly different. And the same. In some ways. It was a good manifesto. Well reasoned. Perhaps a trifle heavy-handed at points, but I’d never fault a man his passion.”

“…you found a copy of my manifesto?” Anders blinked, sitting up. “I had thought they had all been destroyed.”

“It was…” Dorian itched his cheek, deciding not to mention that the madman’s hut where he’d found it had been full of poorly drawn runes meant - ostensibly- for human sacrifice, transferring the power held in the victim’s blood into… well. The runes themselves would’ve likely immolated the caster. “Recovered in the Hinterlands when we were looking for survivors from the war. I’ve the copy in my chambers if you’d like it back. I could fetch it for-“

Anders shook his head quickly. “Best if I don’t touch it. Varric. Give it to Varric. He was the one who found a way for it to be published the first time.”

“As you say.” Dorian frowned, touching his shoulder gently. “You belong here. If others are telling you otherwise, I’d like to know of it.”

His eyes were an odd shade. Not quite hazel or gold, but something both pedestrian and otherworldly at once. Like a cat’s. Dorian was allergic to cats. Anders was watching him like one, too. Unmoving, wary, but showing trust at the same time. Trust as an action. “I made my choices,” he murmured. “Sometimes I do regret them. Most of the time, though, when I consider what has passed… it was what needed to happen, even if it didn’t play out quite how I would have wished.”

“My father used to say that most people do,” Dorian said quietly. “You did what you could. You still do. Thank you for doing it.”

His lashes were like moths taking wing, fluttering in surprise to freckled cheekbones. “…you’re welcome?” 

“Ah.” Dorian stepped away, tucking his hands into the pockets of his robe. “If I’m making you uncomfortable I’ll see myself out. I do appreciate the discussion and will see to your requests.”

“No, it’s- It’s only that no one has ever thanked me for…” Anders cleared his throat, looking down at his hands. “Why would you think you were making me uncomfortable?”

“You’ve turned the shade of a strawberry.” Dorian lifted his brows. “It’s no bother, really; I’ve grown rather used to making people feel uncomfortable of late. It’s the hand, I think.” He wiggled his fingers. “You do important work here. I don’t wish for you to feel unwelcome; that’s all.”

Anders lowered his head to the table, a wry smile curving his lips. “I’m a mage in Thedas. The entire system is set up to make me feel unwelcome. And you.” He laughed soundlessly. “He thought it was because he was Tevene that so many looked on him with distrust. At least I earned their concerns by being a radical and a criminal.”

“You’re a mage in the south ,” Dorian corrected gently. “Not all of Thedas would treat you with the same reproach.”

“Wouldn’t they?” Anders wondered with a tilted brow. “They said being a Warden would change things; it didn’t. Rilienus says being in Tevinter would also make a difference; I’m not so sure. I’ve had friends who’ve had very difficult times in your homeland.”

“Yes,” Dorian admitted sadly. “Not because they were mages though. Tevinter is harsh to foreigners as well; to have any rank or rights, even as a mage, you’d need to indenture yourself for a period of ten years to an Altus in good standing or marry into the caste system. For all of my people’s advances, our political structures remain the same as they were before the First Blight.”

“Ten years.” Anders shook his head, easing tiredly to his feet. “I doubt I have another ten in me to give away.”

“No?” Dorian pressed his lips together. “Because of the Chantry?”

Anders snorted. “The Chantry has been trying my whole life. No. Because I’m a Warden.”

“…ah, yes, the heroic type.” Dorian nodded, though he didn’t entirely understand why being a Warden would be more dangerous than being in the Inquisition. “I hope you don’t meet your untimely end at the claws of one of those crawling beasts.”

The healer smiled ruefully. “Better to die at their hands than become one.”

“…pardon?”

“Why did you think we’re so good at finding darkspawn? And each other? There’s a common denominator.” He looked west, unerring. “If it weren’t for my old friend, I would have thought that time was now. That’s what it feels like. But it will come. One day, the calling won’t be a false one.”

“You’ve never exactly explained what it is to me,” Dorian took a seat, sobering. “Your Calling.”

“Technically, I’m not supposed to.” Anders sighed, sinking down across from him. “But I’ve never understood why. It’s not as though, if people knew how to become Grey Wardens on their own, there’d be a great rush to do so. Or that they’d be able to, even if they wanted. Archdemons are difficult to come by.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “When you catch ill, you’re usually able to fight off the disease better the next time. Have you noticed that?”

“If that were the case, I’d be sipping stripweed tea at breakfast.”

“An allergy is different from an illness.”

“I was largely joking.”

“Though there are preparations I could make if you’re worried about stripweed.”

“Later perhaps. Continue?”

“We infect ourselves with the Blight, from the source. That’s how it works. The actual concoction is a bit more complicated, but that’s the gist of it.” Anders watched him intently. “I’m not contagious. It’s just killing me.”

“Killing-“ Dorian blinked, staring at the man. He looked healthy, if underfed and tired. “Ten years. Does Rilienus know?”

“I’ve told him.” Anders tilted his head. “Have you noticed he doesn’t seem to accept things he doesn’t like?”

“I have, indeed.” Dorian nodded slowly, flexing his fingers. That was it, then. Rilienus would outlive them both. His heart ached for them, Dorian’s voice softening. “I can’t imagine one can truly know him and not notice. He’s a good man and an exceptionally talented mage; if there’s a person who can find a way to give you more time, it’s him.”

Anders puffed a sigh, rolling his eyes, strands of blond hair fluttering across his brow. “We’ll see. In the meantime, I’m glad that my time hasn’t yet come.” He dropped his hand to Dorian’s gently. “There’s a good chance we’re all going to be eaten by a dragon, so we might as well cheer up.”

“Fair enough.” The weight on the back of his hand was exceptionally pleasant and it was a pity that Anders took it away so soon. Dorian cleared his throat, staring at the space Anders’ hand had vacated. “Do let me know if you require anything else, will you?”

“Likewise.” Anders stretched his arms back, crackling noises emitting from his elbows and shoulders. “Looks as though I have to find some carpenters.”

“Ask Cullen if any of his men can be spared a day or two, if you’re short. You’re more likely to find carpenters than swordsmen among the new recruits.” Dorian smiled slightly. “They’re improving, though.”

“They will,” Anders agreed somberly, glancing towards the door. “That’s what fighting does. It makes you stronger or it kills you.”

“Yeah,” Dorian murmured, nodding slowly, rising from his seat. Bleak, but such was the world they lived in. “Take care, hm?”

“And yourself,” Anders answered, stretching more as he stood. “Or I’ll be seeing you.”

“You needn’t wait until you’ve a medical reason to see me, Anders.” He wasn’t entirely certain why he said it, but the words were out anyway. Dorian paused at the door. “I should leave before they send the Seeker after me, but I’m certain you can find me if you’ve an inclination.”

“Can I?” He tucked a strand behind his ear, gold winking in his lobe. “You’re always moving; it can be difficult to guess precisely where you’ll be unless you’ve called for me.”

“You’ve tried, then?” Dorian couldn’t help but smile at that, even though he knew it was only to get signatures or procure supplies for his surgery. “Perhaps I simply need to call more often, then.”

“How are you at Wicked Grace? There’s a game tonight, if you’re inclined for visitation.” Brows wiggled slightly, like leaves rustled by a breeze. “Last time we played, we sent your commander scurrying back to his bunk in nothing but his boots. It was quite a sight.”

“I can imagine.” He had, in fact, already done so, after hearing the rumors the next morning. “I’m a fair enough hand. Perhaps I’ll make an appearance, if I can drag myself from my studies.”

“Try,” the healer urged with a brighter smile. “It’d do us all good to see you let loose, and it would make him happy. He’s always a little brighter when you’re near, even before.”

“Is he?” Dorian asked softly, hardly believing his words, even though he felt them to be true. “Then I suppose I’ll need to.” He smiled, tucking his hands into his pockets, bidding the healer farewell and slipping back out into the courtyard.

Chapter 4: Anders

Anders

Rilienus had been standing in front of the mirror, studying his reflection for nearly an hour. He’d gone through half a dozen wardrobe changes, apparently unsatisfied with each, sending them shuttling back through space into one of his odd little pocket dimensions.

“We’re going to miss the first round if we haven’t already,” Anders chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “You could wear the blue thing. That one’s nice.”

“You don’t think velvet in a tavern is a little gauche?” Rilienus turned, glaring at his back over his shoulder. “And if Sera starts throwing grapes again, I’ll end up with pock marks.”

“I don’t know about gauche, but it’s soft .” Anders padded over towards him and rested his chin on his shoulder. “And can’t you just clean it with magic like you did with mine?”

“One does not have an endless well of mana to waste on basic maintenance.” Rilienus turned towards him, kissing his temple. “And I’d been thinking I might wear royal blue at Halamshiral; I shouldn’t like to be redundant.” 

“That’s well and good, but you don’t seem any closer to picking out an outfit than when you started and I’m starting to get peckish.” Anders lifted his brows. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

He pursed his lips. “He’s been pointedly not paying me any attention for years . What if it was a fluke? What if it was just the dark? I do look very fetching in shadows. The tavern has ghastly lighting.”

“You look amazing everywhere, even with grape stains on your cloak.” Anders rolled his eyes. “He seemed happier this morning. Looser.” He chuckled, touching Rilienus’ chin. “Your doing.”

Emerald eyes disappeared behind dark lashes as he sighed, resting his forehead against Anders’. “I expected too much before. Took too much credit. There’s a wall around him, a field I can’t quite pierce.”

“Not yet, maybe.” Anders brushed a stray curl back from Rilienus’ brow. “You will. You’ve got a second chance with your first love. Even if it doesn’t pan out in the end, at least you can find some closure.” He grinned, wiggling his brows. “The green and gold. To bring out your eyes.”

“Even more flagrant for a dusty bar and barreled wine.” Rilienus kissed him gently. “I could make a northerner of you, yet. Make you a robe of sapphires and amber.”

“Only if you wear furs, love.” Anders winked, drawing him close and deepening the kiss, plucking at the silk belt at the man’s waist. “Is this coming off again before we go?”

“I thought you were in a hurry.” He ran his thumb down Anders’ chest. “He probably won’t be there. He won’t want to see me again. We could go to the roof of the tavern instead and I can make your heels kick again.”

“No, you’re not getting out so easily.” Anders shook his head, grinning. “Gold and emerald. You’ll be irresistible.”

“Will I?” He rolled his shoulders, allowing his robe to slither down his arms and float to the nearest chair. “What about now? Am I irresistible now?” he asked, kissing along Anders’ jaw as he smoothed his palm across his belly. 

“Yes,” Anders admitted, seeing absolutely no point in lying when his body would give him away soon enough. “Maybe you should go like this. You’d turn heads, at least. You’d have to be very good at cards, though, no layers to lose.”

“I could be very bad, too, with nothing to lose.” His short beard was soft as it rubbed against Anders’ skin, the rich scent of his soaps gathering heady and warm and spicy. He kissed slowly down Anders’ throat, massaging him through his robes. “I want to turn your head. I like when your voice gets tight and your muscles shake.”

“That’s hardly a challenge,” Anders chuckled, leaning into his touch. It had been so long since he’d been held like this that he’d almost given up hope of it ever happening again. Before Rilienus had nudged his way into Anders’ life and rather upended it. Amber and sapphire. He already had more robes than he’d had at one time in his entire life. Maybe combined. “I like when you’re very bad. You get this glint in your eyes.” Anders nibbled on his lips. “ Irresistible . Dorian Pavus is a fool to have ignored you.”

“Whatever can be said of him, he’s never struck me as a fool.” His hands were warm when they found Anders’ skin, stroking patterns down his sides and across his abdomen. “And part of being irresistible is being unable to be ignored. But that I am, to you, makes me very well pleased indeed. You are raw gold shaping yourself.” Rilienus backed him up to an arm chair, spilling him into it and sinking to his knees before him to spread his robes wide. “Allow me a few moments spent worshipping your idol.”

“Gladly,” Anders whispered, cupping his cheeks. Worshipping. That did seem to be the word for whenever Rilienus made love. Reverent and lingering, as hungry to elicit sighs and gasps as he was to experience his own. “Take all the time you want; you won’t hear a complaint from my lips.”

He’d never felt Rilienus in a hurry. Even in the midst of a battle, he would move deliberately and purposefully, not allowing himself to be drawn in by the violence around him. So he took his time and he took his fill, and by the time they meandered into the tavern, he was wearing gold and green and a smile that could have spoken to all of his achievements at once. The smile widened when he spotted Dorian at the long table with the others. “ Hic es ,” he murmured, as they took the empty space beside Cullen at the end of the bench. 

“Anders,” Dorian lifted his delicate little glass in a salute. “Rilienus.” He pronounced each syllable like he was tasting it and Rilienus’ grin only grew wider. “I made them wait for you. Incertus eram, te venturum esse .”

“ Tibi ?” Rilienus murmured, pouring wine into cups. “ Semper .”

“Ugh. Blah, blah, quid quip quaff. Can we get on with it already?” Sera asked loudly, kicking her heels up onto the corner of the table. “Some of us came here to play cards.”

“That we did, Sunshine,” Varric agreed, shuffling. “I believe it was Blondie’s deal next.”

“Let’s make it a fair one this time, if we can?” Cullen asked. “I refuse to believe I had four straight hands of garbage by accident .”

Rilienus passed Anders a cup- half wine and half water- and touched his shoulder lightly. “Are you accusing me of being a cheater, Commander?”

“You changed the colors of the cards in front of us.”

“That’s called showmanship.”

Anders nudged him under the table, chuckling as Varric passed him the deck. He dealt to everyone at the table, but before he could slide a hand to Dorian, the man shook his head, lifting his hands.

“No need to deal me in,” the Inquisitor said quietly. “I’ll only be observing this evening.”

“ Really .” Rilienus sorted his cards, not looking up. “ That changes my plans.”

“…does it?” Dorian peered at him curiously. “How so?”

“You’ve made yourself a reputation for being more hands-on. At the tiller, as it were.” He ran his tongue over his teeth. “But if you’d prefer to watch, who am I to judge?”

At the end of the table, the Iron Bull chuckled, rumbling, into a massive mug of beer. 

“Who, indeed.” Dorian leaned back, hugging his snifter to his chest, glancing away. 

Sensitive, then. Anders could feel the discomfort from across the table, making him wince. He scooted the majority of the deck back into the center, peering at his hand. Not terrible, for the first deal.

“You’re first, showman,” Anders nudged Rilienus gently. “Anything good in there?”

“Always.”

“And we’re certain he’s not cheating?” Cullen asked plaintively, looking to Cassandra.

Rilienus smirked, plucking a pair of coins from the air and tossing them to the center of the table. “Raise.”

“ Alright then,” Varric wiggled his brows, adding a pair of his own to the pot. “That’s what I like to hear.”

“My besting you or the sound of coin?” Rilienus inquired, sipping from his cup. “I should imagine it would be the latter.”

“The first would be a rare sound,” Varric chuckled. 

“Only when you’re dealing.”

“Now who’s calling cheaters.”

“I’m calling nothing. Only observing .” His smirk deepened and then turned to stare at Anders. “No. Peeking.”

“You usually like it when I peek,” Anders whined, leaning a little closer.

Sera made a gagging sound, wrinkling her nose.

“Swallow something the wrong way?” Rilienus queried, amused.

“More your thing than mine,” she muttered, sticking her tongue out.

“And yet you’re so very fond of arrows. Methinks the lady dost protest too much.”

“What lady?”

“Touché.”

“Too-what?”

Rilienus flattened his cards on the table and wrapped an arm around Anders’ waist as Josephine launched into an explanation of dueling rules and points over the others’ calls and raises. 

“Seems like you’d know when you hit someone by the blood,” Sera squinted at the ambassador.

“They’re wearing padded armor.”

“So it’s a practice fight.”

“No, it’s a real fight.”

“With no blood.”

“Sometimes, the loser gets peeved and there’s a solid punch with a sword hilt,” Cassandra murmured.

“Poor sportsmanship,” Cullen agreed. 

“If they’re not going to hurt each other, what’s the point of a fight? Why not just talk it out?”

“Because at that point they’ve gone past the point of discussion,” Josephine explained, “yet not quite to the level of hiring bards.”

“The bards come right after the duel.” Leliana lifted her brows. “Raise.”

“Fold,” Cullen muttered miserably.

“ Again ?” Varric lifted his brows. “Damn, you’ve got shit luck.”

“If we could play Aces and Serpents-“

“No one likes Aces and Serpents,” Cassandra told him sternly. 

“ I do.”

“The terms remain coin or cloth, no?” Leliana asked, smiling against her cards. 

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen groaned, forking over two gold with a grimace. “I’ve barely recovered from last time.”

“And yet you’re back again,” Dorian murmured, a sculpted brow quirking. 

“For camaraderie’s sake,” Cullen huffed. 

“And we honor your noble sacrifice.” Rilienus touched his forehead with a small bow. Sera added a little flourish and Josephine bowed her head. 

“First out gets the next round,” Varric reminded Cullen with a grin. 

“You really are bleeding me dry,” Cullen sighed, padding back over to the barkeep.

It was strange watching Dorian with Rilienus. He seemed more cautious, more on edge than he had before, when it had been the two of them. More tentative than the previous evening Rilienus had excitedly described as soon as he’d slipped back into Anders’ chambers. He watched Rilienus’ smile dampen slightly, the light not quite reaching his eyes.

Was there something wrong? Not wanting to seem partial to particular members of the Inquisition or- Something else entirely, perhaps, to do with whatever misgivings Dorian had faced back home?

Anders drew another card, adding it to his hand. Even better than before. He tried to hide his smile behind the fan; maybe he’d get to keep his robe on tonight.

He ended up splitting the pot with the Seeker, who didn’t even cast a glower in his direction. 

Rilienus’ bright smile dimmed further and he barely glanced at his next hand as he worked his way through a carafe that made him visibly wince as he drank. He folded almost immediately on the third hand, slipping away to lean against the bar to trade barbs with the barman. 

Anders pocketed the coin, already planning on spending it on herbs, and slipped away from the table. He worked his arms around Rilienus’ waist, kissing his shoulder.

“Hello, handsome,” Anders mumbled against his neck. “Buy you a drink?”

“I wouldn’t have you waste well-earned coin on these dregs.” Rilienus sniffed at the little glass of dark liquor in his hand. “It smells as though it was scraped off of a horse.” He swallowed the glass whole and shuddered, reaching back to hug Anders against him. “You’re having a good night. I applaud you.”

“And you’re having a poor one.” Anders ran his hand through Rilienus’ curls, kissing the top of his head. “Do you want to go or do you want my advice?”

“A Maecilia does not retreat in shame,” Rilienus muttered. “What advice? Ignore the face of regret? It’s chilling. Who could have the audacity to regret me ? Twice ?”

“I don’t think it’s that, love.” Anders touched his cheek. “Because that is impossible.”

“I would very much like to agree with you, and yet here we are, faced with a horrifying fact. I am…” He stared sadly at the bottle, pouring another little glass. “I am regrettable. I am the Simion Althenas of Skyhold.”

“Who is Simion Althenas?”

“Oh, this poor fellow at Carastes. Only ever got properly pounced on when the pouncer was trounced.”

“You’re not Simion,” Anders cupped his cheeks, tilting his head up. 

“You don’t know any better. I have all my teeth and I know how to bathe; that puts me at least two score above most of the rabble down here. Yourself excluded. You’re gilded.”

“You said I stank like a sodden beast the first time we met. You made me stand in the rain before you let me into your bedchambers.”

“That was before I liked you.” Rilienus sniffed. “…although you did need a bath. There were leaves stuck to you.”

“You try sleeping in caves for two years and see what sticks to you.” Anders rolled his eyes, but he didn’t let go of him, only drew him closer. “He panicked when he found out I knew. I wonder if this isn’t… a bit too much for him at the moment.”

“ What ,” Rilienus mumbled acidly. “Playing cards? Being vaguely pleasant?” His jaw tightened. “We learn how to smile at our enemies at age five. He won’t meet my eyes . The man won’t dignify me with hatred. Only shame. If anyone else had the gall, I’d throw a glove at their feet and turn it into a snake.”

“I’m sorry, love.” Anders only held him, because what else was there to do? The Inquisitor held Rilienus’ heart in the palm of his hand and was crushing it, whether he meant to or not. “What would you do?”

Rilienus sniffed, his kohl-lined eyes narrowing. “I would be petty and brash. Would you care to join me?”

Anders paused, unsure. He’d had his share of pettiness, but it didn’t tend to end particularly well for anyone. “…would it make you feel better?”

“It would make me feel enormously better.” He turned in the circle of Anders’ arms, gathering his palm to his cheek. “If only to prove that not everyone is horrified by my company. Is that terrible?” He glanced between Anders’ eyes. “I shan’t enjoy having your shame in addition to his. I might have to hie on to Tevinter with my forked tongue firmly latched behind my teeth.”

“I’m not ashamed of you, love.” Anders brushed their lips together gently. “I’m not sure I could be. I’ll follow your lead.”

“I’m not entirely sure I’d like to test that,” he admitted quietly, gathering Anders closer. “But I do feel a very churlish desire to make everyone seethe with jealousy over just how very lovely you are.”

“ That sounds wonderful.” Anders nudged him with his nose. “I won’t stop you.”

“No?” A small flicker of Rilienus’ usual glint brightened his eyes as he nuzzled him. “What if I get heretical?”

“How so?” Anders laughed, tugging on the fabric of his robe gently. 

“I might compare the heat you induce to that of Andraste’s pyre,” Rilienus whispered, widened his eyes in horror. “Or claim that the only form I might worship dusk and dawn would be the shapely curve of your arse.” He lifted his brows. “I’m downright dastardly.”

“And you’re certain you don’t want to return to your room?” Anders nibbled on his lips. “It’s not retreat. Just a change in direction.”

“But, darling,” Rilienus murmured, a dark smirk spreading across his lips. “Our exquisite Herald did say he wished to observe this evening, did he not?”

“I suppose he did.” Anders shook his head with a laugh. “Alright. Turn him the shade of your robes, then.”

“You’re a delight,” he sighed, kissing across his cheek. “How very fortunate for me that you chanced to exist in my purview.”

“I feel very much the same,” Anders murmured, taking his hand and leading him back to the table. As soon as Rilienus took his seat, Anders perched on top of his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck. “I’ve returned with my spoils,” he announced, beaming to the rest of the group.

Anders watched Dorian drink deeply from his flask out of the corner of his eyes, staring between the two of them, straight-backed and uneasy. What in the world was wrong ?

“What passes for beer has been paid for,” Rilienus assured them, resting his cheek against Anders’ shoulder. “Alas, my hands are full, so you’ll have to fetch it yourself.”

“That’s not the deal, Dimples.”

“The deal ,” Rilienus replied archly, “is the purchase of said ungodly liquid. The means of distribution has heretofore remained unestablished but for tradition.” He smiled lazily. “I abhor tradition, don’t you?”

“I’ll get them.” Dorian had already risen to his feet and was halfway across the bar before anyone could argue, not that they would have. He didn’t so much as glance in Rilienus’ direction as he left, taking up the spot near the bar they’d so recently vacated. Like a frightened rabbit more than a reveler. 

Exceedingly strange.

Varric dealt another hand by the time Dorian returned with a heavy platter, resting the drinks on the table.

“Thank you so very much for your company this evening,” he said, his tone hollow, the slightest perceptible tremor in his hands. “I’m afraid I need to finish some additional work regarding the mana fonts in the Fallow Mire before I retire.”

Anders felt the flex of Rilienus’ jaw against his shoulder. The grind of his teeth. Fingers balling into a fist at Anders’ hip. 

“I suppose,” Cassandra sighed, “I, too, should see to the texts we have gathered from the Seekers.”

“And I the Templars’,” Cullen agreed, seeming by far the most relieved of the three. “Pleasant evening to you all.”

“…yes.” Anders peered up at Dorian, searching for some hint in his gaze, but finding nothing he hadn’t already seen. “Rest well, then.”

“And you.” Dorian inclined his head, resting his hand on Rilienus’ shoulder. “Do… let me know if you’ve any thoughts on the Mark, will you?”

Rilienus stared up at him. “I’ve a plethora. Do let me know if you’d care to hear them.”

“I would, when you’ve a moment.” Dorian smiled slightly, but there was something inscrutable in his gaze. He retracted his hand, staring at his palm. “Good evening, Rilienus.”

Rilienus sighed as he retreated. “ Fasta vass ,” he muttered to Anders’ back. “We might as well go now,” he sighed. “No?”

“ You should,” Anders whispered, nudging him with his nose. “Go on. I’ll keep winning for you.”

“If he kills me, you get all of my silk and velvet. Don’t let anyone try to snatch it.” He kissed Anders’ chin. “I’ll find you if I’m alive.”

“I should hope so.” Anders rose to his feet, extending his hand and kissing Rilienus’ wrist as he took it. “I’ll see you soon, darling.”

“So you will.”

Chapter 5: Rilienus

Rilienus 

 

“I am incandescent,” he proclaimed as he reached Dorian’s shoulder at the entrance to the main hall. “I am fire. Fortune is my bride; I am Maecilia.” Rilienus could hear the hiss in his own voice, but he’d had quite a bit of frankly awful liquor and he didn’t much care. “You’re exceptionally close to testing my patience and I have a great deal of patience.”

“ Non hic, quaeso ,” Dorian murmured, not turning to face him. A few scattered nobles and clergy meandered through the stone halls. “If you’d be so kind.”

Rilienus fit his teeth together in a grimace. “I am not kind, and neither am I ashes to be swept under a rug,” he snarled in Tevene under his breath, stalking after him. 

“Please, Ril, not here.” Dorian turned on his heels, meeting his gaze briefly. His lips pressed together, his eyes wide with concern. “Do you wish to discuss the matter in my study?”

“Do I wish to discuss what matter in your study?” he asked archly. “Because unless you’ve suffered a blow on the head in the last several hours, I think I deserve more of an apology and less of a discussion.”

“Yes. Of course. You do.” Dorian glanced away as heads turned towards them. “In my study.”

“As you will, your Heraldness.” Rilienus rolled his eyes, padding past him down the center aisle and past the ridiculous gold throne to the chamber door. Wards. Bloody wards. He bared his teeth, flicked his wrist, and issued a series of whistles at the hidden locks within locks, unwinding half of them before Dorian reached him. “Surely this is overkill,” he muttered. “I don’t even have this many layers of security on my vault .”

“I assure you it isn’t,” Dorian pressed his palm to the surface of the mahogany, exhaling and making the rest of them shift and slide into place. He stepped out of the way, holding the door open. “…not that it seems to be much of an issue for you.”

“I have a terrible habit of getting into places people would rather I wasn’t. A fact you would know if you weren’t insisting I was intended for educating magelets on basic elemental skills.” He swept past Dorian through the door and up the stairs ahead of him. “Wards aren’t going to keep the Elder God out, if that’s your thought. Not unless you’ve extended them over the entirety of the fort, and I haven’t felt them there.”

“They’re not intended to keep the Elder One out. They’re meant to keep my research in .” The heels of Dorian’s boots clicked on the stone spiral, mage lights springing to life on either side of them as they ascended. “My research and my secrets.”

“You say that as though someone is likely to be able to do something with your research if they got their hands on it. I’ve read your papers. I’m brilliant and you make my head hurt.”

“Thank you,” Dorian murmured, reaching the top platform a moment after Rilienus. Hundreds of whirring pieces of equipment, balancing seemingly by magic on narrow spindles. Rows upon rows of bookshelves, many of the spines written in ciphers. “That you made an effort is quite the compliment.”

“I enjoy challenges.” Rilienus straightened his sleeves. “I don’t enjoy being challenged. Or scoffed at. In case you require a clarification on that score.”

“…I wasn’t scoffing at you, Rilienus,” Dorian said softly. “I reacted… poorly. I’m desperately sorry if I made you feel anything less than incandescent.”

Rilienus tongued his teeth, peering at a series of astrolabes. “I was wrong. I would prefer an explanation as opposed to an apology.”

“Both, then.” Dorian nodded, padding into the center of the room. “I am unaccustomed to indiscretion.”

Rilienus lifted a brow. “Pardon?”

“I can’t-“ Dorian cleared his throat. “I’m glad you are comfortable enough with yourself to be… open about who you’re seeing with others.”

“You knew I was seeing Anders. Is that a problem now?” Rilienus asked, rubbing his temples. “Because you didn’t seem to mind it before and I’m not particularly inclined to-“

“It isn’t a problem you’re seeing Anders. What is a problem is that you insinuated-“

“That I sleep with him? It’s hardly news to anyone. We sleep in tents on the road.”

“-that you’ve slept with me, too.”

Rilienus frowned. “And that’s a problem.”

“As I’ve said, I’m unaccustomed to indiscretion.”

“I assume you’re aware of what happens when you starve a flame of air?” Rilienus inquired, stepping closer to him. “I am what I am. I am excellent .” He touched Dorian’s elbow. “As are you.”

“No one can know.” Dorian met his gaze, frowning. “Do you understand?”

“Not entirely.” Rilienus tilted his head. “What are you afraid of?” An odd thought occurred to him. “Surely not your father, still?”

Dorian sighed, dipping his head. “I’ve a better way to explain, but I can’t imagine you’ll like it.” He unbuckled the leather straps holding on his pauldrons, unwinding the fabric that covered his chest and turning so his back was to Rilienus. He slipped a golden ring off his finger and lines of scars appeared on his back, lashes he hadn’t carried when they were young. Among them, standing in sharp relief, was a series of interlocking blood-red runes from his neck down to his tailbone. “Have you ever heard of the Immuto Sanguinis ? It’s an ancient rite thought to have been invented by the first Dreamers.”

“It’s blood magic. It’s in the forbidden ledger.” Rilienus scowled at the Necromenian runes.

“Indeed, it is.” Dorian called a robe into his hands, draping it loosely over his shoulders. “My father is under the impression it worked.”

“Have you read them?” Rilienus whispered, a sick, sinking feeling in his stomach. “The runes? You read what-“

“I’m aware of what they were meant to do, yes.”

“Your father did this?” He could feel bile burning his throat. 

“He did.” Dorian wasn’t looking at him. “I didn’t think- I had hoped he’d stop before-“ He slipped the ring back on his finger, shaking his hands out. “You asked me why I didn’t intend to return to Tevinter. This is why.”

Rilienus swallowed, carefully resting his fingers on Dorian's shoulder. “…How did you break it?” 

“It never worked in the first place.” Dorian glanced at him over his shoulder. “I’m lucky to be having this conversation at all.”

Rilienus shook his head. “No, darling,” he whispered. “You’re not lucky.” He thumbed the firm muscled slope of his shoulder. “Fierce. Genius. Terribly, terribly unlucky.”

“Too trusting, by far.” Dorian leaned back into his hold. “Is this enough of an explanation to satisfy you?”

“You could have told me before.” Rilienus sighed, pressing his lips to the back of Dorian’s neck, tightening his arms around him. “I’d have withheld the teasing. I didn’t-”

“There is nothing I’d rather talk about less, particularly when I’m naked and entangled with someone as thoroughly enjoyable as you are.” Dorian exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry, Ril.”

“Don’t you dare.” How? How could anyone think to do such a gruesome, horrific rite to their own blood? Their son. Not just their son. Bloody Dorian Pavus. To risk his mind. To risk his soul. For what ? Nothing- Even if it had worked. Stagnation and stillness. Wretchedness. A mangled mess. He kissed the back of Dorian’s neck, breathing him in. “You are exquisite. You’re a miracle. You know this, I hope? Not because of the nattering gossip of the credulous. You just are . And nothing any of the fools on this earth do to you can dampen you.”

“They have though,” Dorian murmured, taking his hand. “I’m not the man you met in Carastes. I don’t think I can be again.”

“I disagree.” Rilienus laced their fingers together, tucking his chin over Dorian’s shoulder. “I’ve seen you sew up the sky, my dawn. You can be absolutely anything you wish to be. Anything at all.” He hugged him tight. Twelve runes. Twice as many sacrifices for each. Rilienus’ core twisted with the knowledge. “It wasn’t easy to speak of. I thank you for telling me.”

“Thank you for letting me.” Dorian turned to him, resting his forehead against Rilienus’. “I’m glad you’re loved as you ought to be. I would give you the same, if I could. I thought of you often while I was in Qarinus. I wondered if I’d have the chance to see you again. Whether I’d be whole or broken when I did.”

“To be loved by you by any measure is a gift that I have cherished each time.” Rilienus cupped his jaw, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. “When you’re ready, I’ll make love to you without that mask, my dawn. And in the meantime, I’ll show you how to make your wards more firmly guarded against troublemakers like me.” He kissed him gently. “Yes?”

“You can bear to look at the markings?” Dorian asked quietly.

“I am blessed by Andraste herself to look at you. All those marks tell me is that you are more invincible than I’d already thought, and this world is less deserving.”

“Teach me your wards, then,” he murmured, sighing softly. “Stay with me again tonight.”

Rilienus nodded, rubbing careful circles at the base of Dorian’s neck. “Shall we make a nest on the floor as we did when you attempted to teach me transformation?”

“I’ve a mattress built into the wall over there.” Dorian flicked his hand and the hidden hatch lowered, thick quilts already in place. “But if it’s nests you prefer…”

“I prefer you at ease.” Rilienus touched his lips, tracing the curve of them. “You don’t need to impress me, Dorian. You did that ages ago.”

“I was desperately trying to show off, wasn’t I?” He smiled slightly, kissing the tips of Rilienus’ fingers. “How could I not? You are, as you said, fire itself.”

“I didn't know you were trying .” He couldn’t help his own smile from answering, spreading. “It all seemed rather effortless. Made me a feel a bit elbows and knees, really.” If only he could make the man grin again. Laugh. Spill loose and wild on soaked sheets. Rilienus searched his eyes, seeking the hidden mercury in the silver. “You challenged my thinking. You inspired me to push my limits. You made me the mage I am today. I might well have turned out dreadfully boring.”

“You could never be boring, philomela mea ,” Dorian whispered, kissing his knuckles. “You weren’t then and you aren’t now. You’re one of my favorite people I’ve ever met and it’s a pleasure to learn that hasn’t changed.” He cupped Rilienus’ cheek, brushing their lips together. “A part of me wished to ask you to flee Carastes with me. I was torn between fear that you wouldn’t and fear that you would.”

He’d have gone to the end of the world for him, Rilienus knew. He’d dreamed of Dorian coming back for him. Days. Weeks. Months. A nightingale landing on his windowsill to draw him off into the dusk. It wouldn’t have mattered where or why. He’d been in love. “That’s quite a lot of fear,” he murmured. “Try hope instead; tonight, at least.”

“You make me want to.” Dorian smiled, running his hand through Rilienus’ hair and dragging him closer. “ Tibi semper, amatus . I’ll try, for you.”

“There it is.” He kissed the corner of his smile. “I always loved the way your lips curve. Like petals.” He drew his belt open, peeling his robe open as he kissed Dorian back towards the bed. “I saw you and I thought: I’ll never see anyone so beautiful again in my life. I was right.”

“Did you?” Dorian asked, all of his masks gone, save for the superficial one that hid the runes on his skin. “I’ll remember that, the next time I’ve something to fret about. Thank you.”

“Thank you . I simply adore being right about things.” He let his robe slip off his shoulders, touching Dorian’s chest. “And people. I worried for quite a while that I’d been wrong about you. I’m pleased to find that I wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Rilienus,” Dorian leaned back against the mattress, drawing Rilienus down beside him. “I’d like to at least manage a day without doing so. Maybe a week, if we’re very fortunate.”

“You need to remember something for me. One very important thing.” Rilienus walked his fingers down Dorian’s chest, straddling his hips. “Can you guess what it might be?”

“I’d prefer to hear it from your lips, instead.” Silver melting as he stared, skimming his hands up Rilienus’ arms. “What?”

“You need to let me protect myself. I’ve been doing it a long time and I’m quite skilled at it by now.” He touched Dorian’s chin. “Let me,” he repeated. “And let me guard your back. Your answer keeps being to push me away; I don’t like that answer.”

“Stubborn,” Dorian shook his head, but he was smiling again. Only slightly, but it was there. “As you wish, my heart. I’ll try.”

Amatus. My heart. The words beat at Rilienus’ own, making him ache. He bent to kiss Dorian, lingering. “I’ll remind you. In as many ways as you need.” He smoothed Dorian’s hair back from his forehead. “And I’ll take care of you. However you ask. I have loved you since I was eighteen. I’ll go on doing so, if you’d allow me to.”

There was a time and a place for fury, Rilienus had been taught by example; it was never with the victim of atrocity. He had watched his parents guide families and orphaned children silently through their orchards in the dead of night by shadeflame and silencing wards away from lives of desperation towards freedom in the south. They had always reserved their anger for when the work was done, when their charges - beaten, bloody, bruised, and bandaged - had been guided to the border and taught some small measure of hope for their future. Light in the darkness. Only when they were safely ensconced in their new lives did Marius and Auna Maecilia turn their attention to the perpetrators; he’d watched them carefully. Had stored that knowledge away. So while Rilienus felt a fiery storm of rage in his gut, he focused on his heart. For now. 

Soft light and scattered raindrops. The whirr of experiments sighing in the background as he bent to the task of making a mustache tremble over curved lips. Pleasure. He could give Dorian pleasure and some small measure of peace. He could remind him that the man he’d been when they’d both been mostly boys was inside of him still, just as fearless and wild as before. Tempered by sense, perhaps, but not tamed. He could feed air to the flame until it burned rich and hot in all the colors of the spectrum. 

In the eggshell gray of the morning, as dew gathered on the windows, Rilienus pressed gentle kisses to temples and fingertips, wrists and shoulders, occasionally pillowing his cheek on Dorian’s sweat-damp chest to listen to the workings of his heart. “Perhaps,” he mused quietly, “a key-phrase.”

“A what?”

“If I were to, say, discuss a point of pedagogy to a fault, you could understand that I was saying that I loved you.” Rilienus traced the tender veins of his wrist. “Or if I were to note the shape of a particular cloud.”

“A cloud.”

“Or a bird. Or a dragon.” He pressed a kiss to the firm warm muscle over Dorian’s heart. “A mustached dragon.”

“What if there are no clouds in the sky or too many to distinguish or we’re stuck indoors all day?” Dorian nudged him with his nose. “How will I know, then?”

“Perhaps when I speak of ravens.” He rested his chin on Dorian’s chest, peering up at him, running his fingers through his hair. “Or mercury.” He touched the corner of his eye. “Or candlesticks.” He smiled. “Or anything at all.”

“Will you remember that I love you, too?” Dorian asked, smoothing his palms down Rilienus’ back. “Or do I need a pass phrase, as well?”

“I would be much happier if you’d look at me,” Rilienus admitted. “It’s rather cutting to hunt for your gaze.”

“If I look at you, I’m reminded how much I’d rather have you in my arms,” Dorian murmured. “But I’ll try. It will simply take some getting used to.”

Rilienus slipped up to lay beside him, touching the shadows that curved around his muscles. “You think he is watching, still.”

“I hope he isn’t, but I cannot rule out the possibility.”

“You think that- if he were- he could get his hands on you. That he could somehow get past your literal army. That any one of us would let that happen.”

“I don’t wish to give him a reason to try.” Dorian met his gaze. “Do you think poorly of me for that?”

“I do not.” Rilienus laced their fingers together, holding him. “I do worry for you. Fear is a powerful demon. You don’t deserve to be dogged by it.”

“An easier demon to deal with than grief.” Dorian kissed his forehead. “Thank you for coming after me again, Rilienus.”

He shrugged. “I wanted to be cross. And brash. And petty.”

“You still can be. You’ve a reason to; I’ve not made matters easy on you.”

Rilienus lifted a brow. “There is an easy life and there is a life worth living.” He tilted to catch Dorian’s lips gently. “If you’d waited around a little while longer, I was probably going to make love to Anders on the table. We’d have taken Sera’s whole pot.”

“…in front of everyone.” Dorian blinked. “ Really .”

“He rather enjoys a public nuzzling, but I don’t think he liked the associated mood last night. Nor did he deserve to be a pawn.” He sighed. “Neither of you deserved it. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Too much bad brandy.” Dorian kissed his chin. “I’ve a few bottles squirreled away, if you’d fancy them. It’s always better drinking with company.”

“Very true.” He gathered their hands between them, tracing the edges of Dorian’s knuckles. “Can you forgive me? Drink or no drink, it was an unreasonable tack.”

“It’s hard for me to imagine anything I’d not forgive you for, amatus ,” Dorian nuzzled his nose, kissing his chin. “Even taking your lover on the table in an attempt to spur my jealousy. That , I don’t think, requires forgiveness.”

“You did flee as soon as he sat my lap.” Rilienus watched him carefully. “Do you think that our indiscretion somehow reflects on you? Because if that’s the case, there are some things you need to know about the Iron Bull.”

“No, I wished to leave before anyone could see the- Ah-“ Dorian rolled his eyes. “Physical effects of your indiscretions on me. If you really must know.”

Rilienus bit the inside of his cheek. “Hm?” he asked, fighting a smile. “Really?”

“Why on earth would I lie about that?”

Oh, the fire. There was a little flicker of it. “We saw quite a few demonstrations when we were younger. I don’t recall you caring for them very much.”

“Why would I, when I had you close at hand?” Dorian huffed, wrinkling his nose. “No need to tell the healer.”

“Why not? He’d adore this.” Rilienus touched the tip of his nose, admiring the little lines of irritation. “We could organize a little demonstration, privately, if you’d like.”

“…perhaps.” Another flutter of flame. “I’ll consider it. If you wished to.” Dorian pressed his lips together. “…would he?”

“I would have to ask to be sure.” He could see in his mind’s eye exactly how Anders would alight with delicious glee. “Would you like me to ask?” he wondered, running his fingertips across Dorian’s skin, gazing down the lengths of their bodies. “Would you… enjoy it? If I asked him to let me… make his toes do their little dance… while you observed?” 

“Not yet, if it’s all the same to you.” Dorian frowned slightly. “This is already… a rather large adjustment for me.”

“When you’re ready.” Rilienus touched his cheek. “He’s not a threat to you. Do you know that?”

“Anders? I didn’t think he seemed to be.”

“They’re different down here. No one cares what we do. And Anders-“ He smiled, trying to force the frown upwards gently with his pinky. “Anders is melting honey on Summersday.”

“Does he know you love him?” Dorian asked softly.

“I hope so.” Rilienus glanced between Dorian’s eyes. So very many shades of grey. “I get to use the words with him; I think he’s heard them rather a few times without them being true.”

“I’m not sure there’s a worse fate than that.” Dorian squeezed his hands. “I’m happy for you, Ril.”

Every time Dorian said his name like that, it made Rilienus want to curl into a contented ball. “So am I. More so now.”

“Yes?” Dorian drew him closer into his arms, holding him tightly. “I am, too, though I can’t imagine I can keep stealing you away in the evenings like this without upsetting your molten honey.”

“You’re not stealing me. He wanted me here.”

“Did he?” A small, surprised smile curved his lips. “Really.”

“Really.” He nuzzled Dorian’s nose. “He’s very thoughtful. You should send him a fruit basket.”

“A rarity to find decent fruit in this wasteland. Perhaps in Orlais.”

“You’ll need a note if you wait that long. Perhaps with some calligraphy.”

“I’ll see to it after you return to him. I’m disinclined to move, at the moment.”

“Yes…” Rilienus considered the whole delectable length of him. “I rather think you oughtn’t.” He glanced back to meet his eyes. “You’re quite comfortable?”

“ Immensely ,” Dorian hummed, his eyes fluttering closed. “A few more hours, then. At least until the majority of the castle wakes.”

“Until you’re ready for me to go, darling.” Rilienus eased to the pillow beside him, drawing the sheet up over them. “And after that, I shall pontificate about clouds and dragons.”

“Then I’ll muse on the particular shade of your eyes, my heart.” Dorian kissed his brow gently. “And how perfectly your robes matched them last evening.”

A contented sigh escaped him. “I’m pleased you noticed.”

“My powers of observation are still exceptional, I’ll have you know.” Dorian stroked his cheekbone gently. “I’m eager to see what you adorn yourself in at Halamshiral. Perhaps you’ll be able to pull the attention from our ghastly uniforms.”

“I’m looking forward to a few buttons over buckles, personally,” Rilienus chuckled. “So many straps . Why . It’s a terrible tease.”

“That is precisely why.” Dorian lifted his brows. “I enjoy the way your nose wrinkles when you fumble with them.”

“Ah, but you haven’t been allowing me to fumble with them.” Rilienus pursed his lips. “And I don’t wrinkle .”

“You’re doing it right now.” Dorian nibbled on his lips. “Crinkling. However you’d like to put it.”

“Horrifying.” Rilienus touched the corner of his eye, smoothing his skin. “I’m not really, am I?” 

“Not permanently , you’ll be relieved to know.”

He exhaled, dampening his lips. “Oh. Good.” The south was so bloody damp . He’d replenish his jelly cream when he was in Orlais. 

“Just a little ‘v’, right here between your brows.” Dorian kissed him there to demonstrate. “Fetching, really.”

“Maker’s tears, you’ll be the end of me,” Rilienus muttered, ducking his face down against Dorian’s neck. “I may rethink a mask for Halamshiral.”

“So long as I can see your eyes.” Dorian winked. “You’d look handsome with feathers.”

“Of course I would. I look handsome in everything.” Or he had. Wrinkles . He wasn’t even forty. “Go to sleep.”

“You’re peeved,” Dorian tugged on his ear. “I can’t sleep when you’re peeved.”

“That’s not remotely true, or you’d be mad by now. I’ve been peeved since you pointedly ignored me in Redcliffe.”

“Perhaps I am mad,” Dorian kissed slowly behind the shell of his ear. “Perhaps you’ve simply not discovered it yet. We’ve time, if you’re eager to try.”

“I’m eager to know you. As you are.” He peeked up. “Mad or not.”

“We’ve time for that, too.” Dorian smiled, petal soft and gentle as the morning light. “It’s been a long while since I’ve allowed anyone close. I’ve missed it.”

“Have you done?” Rilienus wondered quietly. “Because you’ve been worried someone might learn of certain… proclivities? Or something else?”

“My position makes it difficult, but I was alone for nearly a year before I left Qarinus. It changed me, those months spent in solitude. I’m still trying to find myself again.”

“Have you gone looking?”

“Where would you suggest starting?” Dorian studied him curiously.

“Actually touching your cards might be a start.” Rilienus drew Dorian’s hand to his lips. “I remember you were a fair hand.”

“I’m better still than you remember. I spent hours upon hours playing with Gereon Alexius’ son and he counted cards. I had to be, or I’d have been entirely out of drinking money.”

“There you are then. Josephine and Varric and Anders could use a good challenger.” A year in solitude. It wasn’t hard to imagine now, but he’d never have expected the exuberant butterfly he’d fallen for to survive that. “Or if you’re looking for something less raucous, Cullen could use another chess partner.” 

“I’ve played with him a few times.” Dorian tangled their legs together. “He’s an exceptional opponent. I didn’t expect it.”

“Tactician. Could be sneakier. Doesn’t like to risk his Queen or his Mother, though.”

“No, he does not ,” Dorian agreed with a smile. “Next time, I’ll take a hand.”

“Who do you want to be?” Rilienus asked. “Where would you hope to find yourself?”

“…after this is over, you mean?”

Because he couldn’t imagine an entire lifetime away from their homeland. Rilienus inclined his head, nibbling on the tip of Dorian’s thumb. “Yes. Once we’ve slain the dragon and saved the world.”

“Nevarra, perhaps. Cumberland. I visited there once with my mentor.” Dorian frowned, glancing out the glazed window of the tall tower. “I hadn’t really thought of it; don’t hold me to that answer.”

“You are going to have to choose eventually.” Rilienus nipped his thumb to draw his gaze back. “You can change your mind a great many times. Just one to start with. You’re in… Cumberland.” Dull. Dreary. Full of grumpy southmen. He lifted his brows. “What are you doing in Cumberland?”

“Reading. Writing. Going to parties where I can build a reputation for myself, without relying upon my name.” Dorian kissed the tip of his nose. “And you?”

“Hold on. You have a reputation for yourself, Inquisitor. You have seventeen papers, four of which are teaching material at Carastes.” Rilienus watched him curiously. “You’re actively saving southern Thedas. What do you mean?”

“I don’t wish to return to Minrathous,” Dorian sighed softly. “I don’t wish to return to a court that expects me to fill my father’s shoes. That’s all.”

“You can keep the reputation you’ve earned under your own name, though. It’s nothing to do with him. Your work is yours. Your name is yours . The Maker knows I’m not proud of my whole family history, but each generation reclaims the name for their own. My grandfather owned twelve slaving vessels; my father broke his whole pattern and started fresh. Why shouldn’t you?”

Dorian hugged him, burying his nose against Rilienus’ neck. “How long do you think we can manage to hide here before someone begins searching for me?”

Rilienus held him. Too much. Too much, too fast, too far. He kissed Dorian’s head. “You would know better than I. At least they won’t be able to find you here until you’re inclined to allow them.”

“Not yet, then,” Dorian murmured, nestling against his chest. “I’m feeling terribly disinclined at the moment.”

“Then you shall remain right here and have sweet dreams of Cumberland. You might well be the first to do so.” He smoothed his hand down Dorian’s back, remembering the hidden scars. “I might remain awake. This is much better than my dreams.”

“Then you can guard mine,” Dorian murmured, his breath puffing against Rilienus’ chest as he spoke. “We can both be at peace for a time.”

“As long as you like,” he murmured against Dorian’s crown. “Any time. Anywhere.”

Chapter 6: Rilienus

They lingered together until the sun was well into the sky. Rilienus listened to the sounds of the fortress waking up, buoyed by the slow welcome rhythm of Dorian sleeping, pillowed on his chest. Resting. The worries that beleaguered him day in and out melting from him as they should. 

By the time they parted, Rilienus had decided two things very clearly. He was going to help Dorian find a path to shedding the weighted mantle he’d been laden with, and he was going to make sure that Dorian never needed to look over his shoulder again. 

“I made a flower!” Tula tugged at his sleeve, showing him a lopsided set of petals she’d pieced together. “Make it bloom like before.”

“Let’s see about that, shall we?” He scooped her up, setting her on his hip to carry her up the steps to the upper courtyard. There were men and women building out the front of the clinic, setting boards and hammering them close. “He’s going to have to teach you this trick, I think.”

“Uh huh,” she agreed. There was paste in her blonde hair making it stick out at odd angles very like Anders’ when he fell asleep at his workbench.

Rilienus ducked past the construction, sheltering Tula’s head until they reached the back of the clinic where Anders was stirring a cauldron. “I found a fairy making flowers.”

“A fairy ,” Anders turned to him with a wide, warm smile. “Oh, there she is. Another flower, Tula-belle? Soon you’ll be able to open a shop; Tula’s Tulips has a nice ring to it.” He lifted his brows, meeting Rilienus’ gaze. “Hail the conquering hero?”

“Something like that.” He set Tula down on the bench, tugging her pigtail lightly. “…I may need to go north. Shall I take over your brew for a moment?”

“North? Just keep an eye that the felandris doesn’t scald.” Anders stepped away, taking a seat at the table with the young girl. “Petals, petals, petals. These are actually petals from different plants, you know? They may not go together quite as we might expect.”

“Can you make a new flower from the petals?” Tula asked excitedly. 

“Maybe.” Anders wrinkled his nose, scrunching his face in faux concentration. “Ah, I’m going to need some help, I think; I’m all tapped out. Do you remember how we did this last time?”

“Feel the sparkly feeling in my fingers and let it flow into the flower?” Tula sang, swinging her legs under her.

“Just a little, little trickle.” Anders placed his hands under hers. “Slow and steady; it’s a delicate thing.”

She scrunched her brow, mirroring him, and Rilienus missed the moment their magic began to work, too lost in admiring the perfect, sweet symmetry of the two of them bent together over petals. This was magic. The joy and the trust, the creation of what others thought impossible. This was everything worth anything. 

Colors shifted and deepened. Vines curled. 

Rilienus sat back. “Beautiful.” And waited for Anders to glance up, ruddy-cheeked from heat and casting, amber glinting with pleasure. He was. Delicate and unbreakable. Did he know? He blinked slowly, the way Anders had told him that cats said ‘I love you’. “Exceptional.”

“Good job, Tula.” Anders ruffled her hair, then took a little vial of seeds from his pocket, blinking at Rilienus in the same manner, his smile blooming like the rose petals. “To practice helping them grow. Not too many at once, okay? Just one at a time and not more than three a day or you’ll wear yourself out.”

“Okay!” She hugged him, laughing, then held her flower aloft and ran to each of the carpenters to show off her work. 

“She’s going to go through all of them today,” Rilienus chuckled, taking Anders’ hand lightly. “They’re going to find her asleep in the hayloft again.”

“I know.” Anders murmured, leaning against him. “We can go find her after lunch. North? What business do you have in the north? We’re leaving for Orlais at the week’s end.”

“There’s…” He grimaced. “Something happened. Something very wrong.” He flexed his fingers, exhaling sharply. “I can be there and back before the horses are saddled, if I take the ley lines.”

“…something with Dorian Pavus?” Anders lifted his brows. “Has he asked you to go? Is this another attempt to push you away from him?”

Rilienus shook his head. “Quite the contrary. He’s asked me to stay.” He kissed Anders’ cheek. “He is… everything I remember and nothing the same. And now I understand, somewhat, why, and it is untenable.”

“If he’s asked you to stay, then why are you leaving?”

“Because there are more than enough monsters in this world already.”

Anders blinked. “…what?”

Rilienus took a deep steadying breath. “You- Kaffas, he wouldn’t want me to speak of it. He could barely speak of it.”

“…alright?” Anders frowned. “What do you intend to do about it up north?”

Peel flesh. Rend bone. Scorch earth. Rilienus eyed the gold tipped claw he wore at his pinky, filled with a sudden rushing hatred for everyone who misused his gift. “Something rather bad, I think.”

“Something bad that he doesn’t know about.” Anders pressed his lips together. “Is this your fight, love, or his?”

“It isn’t a fight. It’s a villainy.” He glanced at Anders. “We're heroes, aren’t we? Isn’t it our purpose to oppose villainy?”

“The line between heroism and villainy is razor-thin if there is one at all.” Anders touched his cheek gently. “I’m not certain which side I’m on. If he asked you to stay, don’t you think that’s more important than exacting a vengeance that doesn’t belong to you?”

Rilienus gritted his teeth, catching Anders’ wrist between his fingertips. “If there was a soul still living that had wronged you in a percentage of what was done to him, I would turn them inside out and pour salt water through their veins.”

Anders stared, his eyes widening. “That bad, was it?”

“Yes,” he clipped.

“I was nearly lost to vengeance, once.” Anders kissed his brow gently. “I still think you should stay here, but I trust your judgement. If you think this is necessary, what do you need from me?”

Stay. Stay and remain quiet and soft while he ached to burn rafters. Rilienus bent against him, wrapping his arms around him. “Everything,” he sighed. “Only everything.”

“This was a very informative conversation,” Anders murmured against his shoulder, hugging him in return. 

“You think so?”

Anders chuckled. “Between the lines, yes.”

“I will wait ,” he muttered. “Minding your guidance. I won’t stay my hand indefinitely.” He squinted at the man out of the corner of his eye. “What was between the lines?”

“Hm?” Anders adjusted his collar with a smile. “Can’t I keep my secrets, too?”

“No.” Rilienus tugged him onto his lap, holding him tight. “No secrets.”

“No?” Anders shook his head. “I’m very fond of you, Ril.”

“Of course you are. That’s hardly a secret.” He pressed his nose behind Anders’ ear to breathe deep the scent of honey and herbs and sweat and salt. “I love you, Anders. That isn’t a secret either.”

“No, it isn’t.” He rubbed the side of his head against Rilienus, like one of the barn cats that flocked to him. “You love him, too. I didn’t know, but I’m glad.”

“I don’t know him anymore,” Rilienus admitted. “I know better than to think that I do. The feelings are still there from before. Embers kicked restlessly into flame. I want to, though. He needs someone to know him.”

“He seems like someone who deserves it.” Anders kissed his chin. “I’m glad he’s giving you a chance now.”

He nodded slightly, cupping Anders’ cheek and studying his eyes. “I’m glad you did, too. I was an ass, when we met.”

“You’re lucky I like your ass.” Anders winked, squeezing his hips. “Do you have any energy left for me, or are you tapped out?”

“Always for you.” He kissed his cheek. “My closet or yours?”

“Oh, yours, definitely. Mine is covered in sawdust at the moment.” Anders chuckled, holding his hands, glancing at his steaming pot. “It’ll need to cool anyway; I’m all yours.”

“You’re sure? I don’t mind waiting for you to finish your… what is this exactly?”

“A sleeping draught. A lot of the soldiers have nightmares about Haven.” Anders puffed out his cheeks. “Time will only tell if they’re willing to take them.”

Gods, but he was a kind, good man. Rilienus kissed each rounded cheek, smoothing the fly-away strands back from the healer’s brow. “You need a massage and a milk bath.”

“The milk is for the kittens and babes.” Anders narrowed his eyes in mock derision. “I’ll take the massage gladly, though.”

“Milk and honey,” Rilienus insisted, smoothing his hands up Anders’ arms. “Olive oil and sandalwood. Salts to wiggle your toes in.” He kissed the man between the eyes. “A good two weeks with my mentor in Rivain. Hell on earth. Absolute turmoil. No one to look after but yourself.”

“ You .” Anders lifted his brows, chuckling to himself. “I’d still need to look after you.”

“Is that so? Then I’ll be on the lookout for trouble to get into, shall I?” Rilienus smirked. “I should feel terrible if I bored you.”

“No trouble.” Anders shook his head, holding him close. “Unless you’re talking about the kind of trouble you get into without breeches on.”

“Yes,” Rilienus chuckled against his lips. “A man after my own heart, who also happens to hold it. I’m a lucky sod. Let’s lid your concoction, hm?”

He couldn’t give him milk baths at Skyhold, or drape him in the jewels he would have liked, but he could draw slow sweet groans of pleasure from Anders’ lips with his hands as he worked olive oil into the healer’s overworked muscles. He could make lips part and lashes flutter by kissing softened skin and holding Anders to the curve of his body as sweat cooled. “Better?” he murmured against the back of Anders’ head as they listened to the mid-day practice of the soldiers in the courtyard. “If we have time before the Empress’ do, I’ll sort you a milk bath and massage honeycomb into your hair. Then they’ll be staring at you for a good long while before they realize who you are, mel meus .”

“The chances I’d leave you and a bath to go to a party are slim to none,” Anders chuckled, turning his head to kiss him. “You might need to sneak off after I fall asleep to get your canapés.”

“You’ve never been to an Orlesian gala. Trust me: you’ll have a lovely time. Everyone’s at each other's throats, dressed to the nines, and the food will make your eyes roll back in your head.” He nibbled at Anders’ lower lip. “Besides, you’ll have to get used to them; I have plans for many parties for you. Many robes. Many decadent dripping jewels once we’re on the other side of this.” He glanced between Anders’ eyes. “Before and after baths.”

“You’ve plans for me, after?” Anders asked softly, holding his hand. “Truly?”

“Of course I have.” Rilienus squeezed his hand. “What a question. Did you not have them for me?”

“It isn’t-“ Anders frowned slightly. “I haven’t had plans for the future for a very long time. I’m usually occupied by getting through to the next day. It never made sense to plan knowing that more likely than not, I’d be found and would need to pack up everything and run at a moment’s notice. So, no, I suppose, I didn’t, but it wasn’t out of lack of interest in them.”

“I’d appreciate it, personally, if you didn’t pack up and run any time soon.” Rilienus flattened his palm across Anders’ chest, feeling his stomach clench at the idea. “For the record.”

“I won’t.” Anders smiled slightly, kissing his cheek. “For the first time since I was a boy, I’m not being hunted and trapped.”

“No? I have a sinking suspicion that we’re all being hunted and trapped at the moment. As it happens, I’m rather adept at escaping traps.” Rilienus hugged him tight. “And so are you. Remember that if you start to feel flighty, hm? We can handle it, together, whatever comes at us.”

“I will, love,” Anders murmured, kissing his forehead. “I promise.”

He had ached for this kind of tenderness for years. Thought it beyond him for many, too. Moments were enough. Not enough to be vulnerable again. Just enough for pleasure. For ease. For merriment. For distraction. He had known what love looked like too well to settle for anything less. “Many plans, dulcimus . Many indeed.” He kissed him in answer and let the exchange soften to whispered breaths and touches in lieu of words that were not bountiful enough for what resided in his heart. 

 

“Anders,” he murmured, later, watching the healer dress. Rilienus rested his chin on his knee, tapping his ankle. “Some of the experiences you’ve alluded to… Do you ever want to talk about them? Would that help?”

“I’m not sure there’s enough time to talk about them.” Anders turned back to him, shrugging. “I don’t know. I’ve tried to make my peace with my past, as much as I can.”

“There’s time.” Of course he had. His resilience was one of the many qualities that had transformed Rilienus’ perspective about him, and yet- “If you ever want or need. There’s time. We’ll make the time.”

“I’d like to visit my family again,” Anders said softly. “They’re probably dead, but maybe something is left of the farm. Maybe they went back, after the Blight.”

There were moments that he seemed invincible, even though Rilienus knew very well that no one was invincible. It was the performance of the feat that often got him the closest to feeling that way himself, and yet… Anders still held such pain inside of himself, guarded, as though to delve into it might bring it back to the present. Maybe it would, for him. 

Rilienus slipped from the bed and wrapped his arms around him. “Then we’ll go.” He held Anders’ gaze. “We’ll make time and we’ll go. Alright?”

“More plans.” Anders leaned into his arms. He still weighed too little for as tall as he was, but he’d filled out slowly from Rilienus’ insistence that he eat three meals daily. “I’m going to need to get used to that.”

“You’ll need to make some of your own. I can’t be wholly responsible for everything we do when we have our druthers.” He smiled against Anders’ cheek. “We’d end up sleeping drunk on a beach inside of a week. There are some lovely beaches; one in Rivain, the sand feels like silk and each nice the sea lights up with Fade jellies that shimmer and exude a blue light.”

“I’d like kittens.” Anders said quickly. “There’s a pregnant tabby in the barn, and I thought: maybe I could keep a couple of them in my room.”

“Kittens.” Rilienus peered at him, waiting for the joke. Only there wasn’t one. Just- Ugh. Fur and claws. And fur. He sighed. “I don’t think that’s up to me.”

“What do you mean?” Anders studied him, tilting his head to the side. “Do you not like cats?”

Who liked cats? He smiled, tapping Anders’ nose. “I can’t say I’ve had a great deal of experience with them.” On purpose.

“ …that is an unconvincing smile.” Anders sighed, his expression falling. “Alright. No kittens, then.”

“If you want kittens, get yourself kittens.” Rilienus rolled his eyes. “They’re your plans. I’m not feeding them. Or… whatever else they require.”

“ Love .” Anders beamed. “They require a lot of love.”

“Fortunately you have an abundance of that resource.” Gods, he looked happy, didn’t he? “Just keep some in reserve for me. I need it too.”

“Oh, I will.” Anders kissed the tip of his nose. “I bet you’re going to fall in love with them, though. I’ve a feeling.”

Highly unlikely. “While we’re discussing future developments.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be acquiring children. Preferably two. At some point.”

“…what?” Anders blinked. “Human children?”

“One can’t leave a Senatorial seat to a cat. It simply isn’t done.”

“Children.” Anders lifted his brows. “You’re going to be a father? Maker’s breath.”

“I’m good with children. So are you. Why is that a cause for swears?”

“Me,” Anders repeated. “You’re asking me to be a father with you. Are you?”

“Only if you wish it,” he hedged. “You’ll have to see them, of course, but- I’m sorry, I didn’t think the idea would be anathema to you.”

“Anathema?” Anders asked, a suspicious glint in his eyes, his voice raising an octave. “No, it’s not anathema to me.”

Rilienus pressed his lips together. “I have to, you understand. I’ve a responsibility. More than that- there are a number of the magelets who have nowhere to go. Tula’s family is nowhere to be found. They need homes.”

“They do,” Anders whispered. “…so do I. I’ve not had one for a very, very long time. Or-“ His voice cracked. “A family.”

“That’s not true at all,” Rilienus told him, tugging his earlobe gently. “You have me. And mine. Regardless of your cats.”

“Yours.” Anders nodded, his eyes misting. “Yes. Okay.”

“My mother is very much looking forward to meeting you. She can be excessive. You’ll want to prepare yourself for that.” Rilienus glanced between his eyes. “I’ve said something gauche. What’s the matter?”

“You’ve not.” He shook his head. “You’ve said something wonderful. I like your plans. I- I think I may have one more, if you’d hear it?”

“You said a couple. That means two. Two cats.”

“That’s not it.” Anders bit his lip. “Can I ask?”

Rilienus tilted his head. “You can always ask.”

“I don’t have a house or a Senate seat or a fortune or even a name.” Anders took his hands and held them against his heart. “But everything I do have, I want to share with you.”

“That isn’t a question.”

“I’m-“ Anders sniffed. “ Getting there. Would you marry me, Rilienus? It doesn’t need to be- Eventually, I mean. When- There’s not a crazy Magister trying to kill us.”

Rilienus exhaled, kissing his hands gently. “Thank the gods. I was worried for a moment that you were going to ask for a menagerie.” He hummed. “It isn’t really done at home, you know. People like us, we tend to share homes and not really talk about it beyond that. But if it’s what you want.” He shrugged. “There are a number of irritating menaces I wouldn't mind having an excuse to duel.”

“…would you want to?” Anders glanced between his eyes, light catching in the gold and amber of his irises. “Even if it’s not done?”

“I want you. I want a life with you in it.” Rilienus thumbed his chin. Marriage… was so far removed from anything he’d set his mind to. “I want what it entails. I need to adjust to the idea. Is that…” he bit his lip. “Is that reasonable? For now?”

“Yes.” Anders hugged him tightly, brushing their lips together, his eyelashes damp. “I want that. I want you. I want a family . A dozen kids. Whatever you want. We can take your whole nest of magelets back up to your castle on the beach; I’d love that.”

“It isn’t a castle . It only has five bedrooms and one kitchen.”

“ Five bedrooms.” Anders’ eyes widened. “You could have an entire Circle .”

Rilienus snorted. “You’re funny.” 

“Kinloch had thirty kids in six rooms.” Anders lifted his brows. “What’s funny?”

Six- He’d seen that tower. It wasn’t massive, certainly, but there was space enough for more than six- “I doubt my little house has rooms large enough for thirty. Maybe ten.”

“…they weren’t large rooms in Kinloch, either, Ril.”

Rilienus brushed his fingers over the shell of Anders’ ear. “They won’t even let me bring them north for school , with a promise of returning them to southern Circles after the war. I very much doubt I’d be allowed to take them all indefinitely.”

“Allowed.” Anders sniffed. “Yeah, I suppose we shouldn’t just take them.”

“I’m not a Senator yet, but I do have ties that could be- diplomatically complicated. The Archon is pleased with my contributions at the moment. Stealing a host of Ferelden children in the midst of a mage rebellion would probably be a poor choice. Adopting one or two; that I can manage, I think. It would still be difficult for them, of course, but I could support them. We could.” Rilienus frowned. “And I’m afraid no matter how skilled our united tutelage might be, it will not compare to the professors at Carastes or Serenaut. I’d make a poor Arch-Mage. I’m impatient and ill-tempered and I like to move around. Darling-“ He touched the corner of Anders’ lips. “We will make sure they’re all sorted, in some manner; I have no intention of leaving them to the ignorance of their countrymen.”

“I would feel better if you were teaching them yourself.” Anders nudged him with his nose. “You’re a better teacher than they’ve ever had. A better one than I ever had.”

“I’m pitiful by comparison to my own. Which is why they’ll be in excellent hands when we’re in Orlais. Ah. I should probably forewarn the ambassador.”

“Of what?”

“More dastardly Tevene influences in our midst.” Rilienus rolled his eyes. “My mother. One can’t exactly argue with her. She does what she wills.” He wrinkled his nose. “And Dorian . Egads, I ought to warn him, too, I suppose.”

“Your mother is coming here?” Anders’ eyes widened. “ When ?” 

“…next week?” Rilienus smiled nervously. “I told you she wanted to meet you.”

“You didn’t say-“ Anders blanched. “Next week .”

“ Someone needs to keep the magelets in hand if we’re all to be in Orlais for the next while.” Rilienus leaned back to watch him curiously. “I thought it was a rather elegant solution. I don’t see why you should find the idea so appalling; you did just say you were more than happy to join my family. She’s part of it.”

“I’m just-“ Anders puffed out his cheeks. “What if she hates me?”

“I very much doubt she could.” Rilienus touched the round curve of air, tracing it fondly. “I love you. You’re fierce and clever and determined. That’s four points in your favor.”

“But what if she does .” Anders exhaled sharply. “What is she like?”

“What do you mean: what is she like? She’s my mother.” Rilienus lifted his brow. “She’s excellent. Has a fondness for plants. You’ll get along like a house on fire.”

“Plants. Alright.” Anders nodded, smiling slightly. “I can do that.”

“And children. Loves those. And magic. And people who understand that I am by far the best person they’re ever like to meet.” Rilienus winked, kissing his cheek. “Easy.”

“I’ll believe that a Maecilia is easy to figure out after I meet her.” Anders lifted his brows, hugging him again. “Do you mean to stay in bed all day?”

“No. I’m going to spread the news about my difficult to deduce maternal figure and dodge arrows.” He kissed Anders’ cheek again, nibbling down his jaw. “Come with me? I’ll use you as a human shield.”

“How very gallant of you.” Anders rolled his eyes, laughing. “You’d best start getting dressed soon or we might well spend all day in bed, regardless of your intent.”

“Am I wooing you again?” Rilienus chuckled, nuzzling him and bumping his hips against Anders. “Hmm? Maritus meus ?”

“Oh.” Anders cheeks reddened. “That’s a new one. What does it mean?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Rilienus nipped at his ear, smoothing his hands down Anders’ chest. “Maybe I’ll tell you, if you’re very,” he kissed the words down Anders’ neck, “very good. Something to look forward to.”

“Maybe I’ll just ask your mother when she comes.” Anders wiggled his brows, a devilish glint in his eyes.

Rilienus pursed his lips. “I suppose you could, if you’d like to put your points in jeopardy.” He kissed him once more then called his robes to him, whistling them over his shoulders and around him with a flourish. “You are a gambling man, I know. You’ll want to place your bets carefully.”

“Perhaps I’ll ask Dorian, then.” Anders adjusted, humming to himself. “I wouldn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with your mother.”

Dorian. Rilienus squinted at the door, straightening his sleeves. “I think… he might be a bit fragile yet.” Would he be? Merely seeing them together had been enough to make him search for an exit. And though he’d said he was fine with them, happy for them, even - potentially - interested in them, still there was a long road of fears to wade through before he imagined Dorian would be pleased to hear about nuptials of any kind. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do for him.”

“Oh.” Anders nodded, frowning slightly. “Just love him, I imagine. That’s what you did with me and it worked wonders.”

Rilienus shook his head with a sigh “No, darling. That’s what you did for me .” But he had a point. He wanted to fix, to heal, to shift away the fears - and it wasn’t unselfish. He was angry. He was very, very angry - at what had been done to Dorian, at what had been attempted, at how those experiences had chipped at the effervescent joy and confidence of the young man he’d known, and how all of it - all of it, from the first worried abandonment to the retreat the evening before - lay at the feet of one very hateful, very alive man. Halward Pavus had harmed Dorian irrevocably, tried to destroy him, and in doing so, he’d stolen parts of both of their lives. 

Rilienus pressed his lips to Anders’ temple, breathing deeply. 

Selfish to the end. 

Because a large part, he recognized, of wanting to ease Dorian’s suffering was his own desire to guarantee that the man wouldn’t run from him again, push him away, stare at him with that unseeing steel that cut through him like blades. 

“You’re too good for me,” he murmured. “You know that?”

“If you think that, you’re drastically underestimating yourself.” Anders leaned back, studying him. “It was bad, wasn’t it? Whatever happened to him? He looked horrified when he found out I knew about the two of you; has it something to do with that?”

Rilienus nodded once. “Something.” He grimaced. “You’re right. It isn’t my fight or mine to fix.” He exhaled sharply. “I wish you could have known him before. He was… fire .” He blinked hard as his eyes stung. “He was living fire. Music given form. Wildly overconfident, perhaps, but he carried it. He was slipping through transformations when we were in our teens, as though it were nothing. So sure of himself. And now he’s afraid and I can’t bear it.”

“You can,” Anders murmured, holding him tightly. “And I’ve no doubt you can help him find his way to it again. You’re a wonder and a miracle, Rilienus Maecilia.”

“I’m peevish and occasionally irrational. It isn’t wondrous or miraculous.” He narrowed his eyes, cupping Anders’ cheeks. “You’re biased. Don’t change. I like you biased.”

“I don’t plan to.” Anders winked, nudging his nose. “ Maritus meus .”

“Hmph.” 

They collected Tula from the hayloft above the stables and the girl continued sleeping the whole walk back through the courtyards and the main hall until they located the Sister who’d been placed in charge of the children’s care. 

“Your surgery is coming along rather swiftly,” Rilienus murmured as they left her behind. They did need homes. All of them. And there was no way he could take them all, he knew. But Tula had grown attached to him and he to her. He glanced down the hall towards the closed War Room doors. In session. He sighed. He abhorred waiting. Sitting on his hands. He kissed Anders’ instead. “Do you need assistance with anything? If I go back to my research, I’m not going to notice when they finish in there.”

“I’ll put you to work.” Anders grinned, wiggling his brows. “Don’t worry about that.”

“I shall endeavor not to.”

Chapter 7: Dorian

Dorian

Rilienus Maecilia had his mother’s eyes. It was bizarre seeing the pair that had so enraptured him captured in the face of another. Tall and slim, with streaks of gray caught in hair as dark as crushed kava beans.

She was a kind woman, he knew, and she moved in the same circles as Gereon Alexius, before Felix had taken ill.

But she was Rilienus’ mother and he had broken Rilienus’ heart. Had he told her of their trysts in Carastes? Of how he’d left without a word or a whisper?

“More tea, my lord Inquisitor?” Auna Maecilia lifted the pot in query, those emerald eyes focused on him with the same curious look Rilienus sometimes wore when he woke to find the man studying him in the dark. “I understand from your ambassador that’s what I’m meant to call you, but I should admit it does feel odd to use the Southern accolade. Nevertheless, I’m unsurprised to find you have made great strides. You know: I watched your application demonstration to Carastes; it was absolutely lovely.”

“The ice sculpture garden with the waterfall?” He had been rather proud of that one and the delicate casting it had taken to keep it from melting in the Tevinter sun. “Dorian is fine, my lady. I’m pleased you remember me; that was quite some time ago.”

“Ah, but time, as you well know, is a tangled thread. I’ve had all of your papers foisted upon me over the years. Many excellent theories. Some I would have called far-fetched until recently.” She refilled his cup as soon as he set it down. Soundless. The mark of an experienced hostess. She rested the pot between them. “…I understand that may be an unwelcome subject.”

“…I had not wished to have my research used for…” Red lyrium crystals filling Redcliffe keep, his new allies all dead or dying. “It was theoretical, I hope you know. A series of thought exercises. Until it wasn’t.” He frowned, lifting the cup to his lips. “I am glad you were able to make the time to come south. We can, as you might imagine, use the help, particularly where the subject of magical education is concerned.”

“So I’ve heard. My son protests the mantle he seems to have donned quite in opposition to the wishes of the Orlesian Chantry,” she murmured, amused, behind her cup. “I’m more than happy to see to his collection until he can return to minding them. As for the grander scheme, my hands are rather full with our own difficulties back at home. This, however, I can do. I tutored him, you know. I still do, from time to time.” She studied him, steady. “Will it be possible, do you imagine, to see Gereon before I return?”

“To what end, my lady?”

“Livia was my maid of honor and I hers.” She folded her hands on the table. “There’s a responsibility that I have allowed to lapse.”

“I am sorry for your loss, then, my lady.” Dorian dipped his head in acknowledgment. He had wondered, a thousand times at least, if he’d been able to save her and Felix if only he and Gereon had been there. “She was a good woman. Grieving her has changed him.”

“Grief changes us all. As does love. For better or for worse.” She smiled sadly. “I am sorry for your loss as well, Dorian.”

“As am I.” For all of them. All of the losses, one after the other, these past years. “Yes. I can accompany you to the dungeons. It’s… hard to see him like this, to warn you.”

“I anticipated as much.” She bowed her head. “Thank you. Whenever it may be convenient to you. I assume you will want to focus on the tasks ahead of you for now.” She lifted her brows. “Is there any way that I can be of service?”

“You’re already doing more than enough.” Dorian smiled warmly, reaching across the table to pat her hand. “Give my regards to Lord Maecilia. I’ve admired your work together in the Senate for some time.”

“Oh, I’d heard you were a flatterer.” She chuckled softly, resting her fingers over his. “Our work will continue for some time. As will yours. It is our hope that we can make certain our goals remain aligned. Whatever you need within our power is yours but for the asking.”

Had Rilienus mentioned him to her? “I would like that as well.” He squeezed her hand gently, returning to his tea. “Perhaps if he could send some materials from Minrathous, I might make more progress on my research.”

“I have a list .” She hummed as she searched through a little pouch at her side- another little similarity she shared with her son. “Here it is. I will leave it with you and you may add your requests to what he’s already mentioned. We’ll see what we can do. I did manage to bring four copies of Hyrem’s Theses on the Elements with me,” she added with a wink. “Don’t tell the precious Mothers, will you?”

“Of course not.” Dorian winked back, scanning the paper. Treatises on the Fade and power containment and psychic transference. His cheeks warmed, and not from the tea. The Mark. He meant to stabilize the Mark. “It’s been a pleasure to meet your son’s acquaintance, my lady. He’s a credit to your family.”

Her smile widened, her eyes crinkling at the edges as Rilienus’ were beginning to. “He is. We’re exceptionally proud of him. And you. I’m very pleased to find there is a good man behind that brain I’ve heard so much about.”

“Have you heard much of me, then?”

She lifted her brow. “I did mention I’ve been besieged by your research papers, did I not? It’s possible we may be the only living library of every iteration.” She glanced between his eyes, gauging him. “My son can become… fixated when a particular topic arouses his interest.”

“…fixated.” Dorian blinked. “It does seem he can be rather single-minded. Was he interested in temporal manipulation once?”

“Yes. Temporal manipulation, and transcendental matrices, and even Nevarran cremation techniques for one desperate summer,” she murmured wryly. “It took him some little while to find some interests of his own, actually.”

He’d injured the man more deeply than he’d realized, then, and Auna Maecilia knew it: “I’m glad he found his way to them eventually.” 

“As am I.” She collected her cup. “Glad and proud. And worried.” She looked around the high ceiling of the War Room where Josephine had insisted they have their meeting. “Of course nowhere is safe, nor like to be if all of this continues as it has been, but I’m not ashamed to say that this is a little closer to the front lines than I would have chosen for him.”

“I can imagine.” Dorian dipped his chin. “I’d not wish for him to be so close to danger, myself, but I have been exceedingly grateful to have him here.”

“Good. I appreciate that you’re keeping an eye on him. He does admire you so. For good reason.” She peered at him over the lip of her cup. “It is a heavy burden to carry the expectations of so many. Would it be offensive if I offered a little motherly advice, in the absence of your own?”

“My mother wasn’t often in the habit of offering advice, in any case.” Dorian lifted his brows, blowing steam from his cup. “I would appreciate hearing yours, though.”

“There are a number of different opinions around you. Tune them out. You know what you need to do. You’re a clever fellow. Rilienus, though obsessive, is an excellent judge of character. If he trusts you, then I would say that you’re trustworthy. Trust yourself. Indecision is dangerous.”

“I will try to bear that in mind.” Dorian smiled slightly, crossing his ankles in front of him. “Welcome to the Inquisition, my lady. I’m very glad you could join us, even if only for a short while.”

“As am I.” She rested her cup in its saucer. “If there’s nothing else you require from me in these accommodations, I’d very much like to see my son.”

“Please.” Dorian lifted his cup in a salute. “The last thing I wish to do is keep you from him.”

She rose, smoothing her robes, and rested her hand gently on his shoulder. “I look forward to many more talks, Dorian.”

“As do I, Lady Maecilia.” Dorian hugged his cup to his chest. “Give your son my warmest regards.” As though he’d not had them just that morning, when the castle was still fast asleep. Had them and had them and had them again. His regards and much more. “I’m sure he’s eager to give you a tour of the castle, such that it is.”

Auna chuckled. “I do love a tour. You won’t join us?” She tilted her head. “It is your house, as it were.”

“…would it please you if I did?” Dorian studied her curiously. Did she know ? And if not, could she tell? He couldn’t well have news of his interests returning with her to Minrathous. “I can try, if I’m not needed elsewhere.”

“If you can spare the time.” She nudged the door open. “I do have some questions about your work on matrices, myself, as it happens. Have you read any of his papers?”

“All of them,” Dorian admitted, abandoning his tea and following her to the door. “There’s an efficiency to his work that’s nothing short of extraordinary.”

“I agree. As does the Archon.” She tucked her hand through his arm. “They’re complimentary hypotheses, you know. Time and space. Combining them could make someone… quite unstoppable.”

“Is this more motherly advice?”

“An observation,” she murmured, smiling at him, and then lifted her hand as Rilienus crossed towards them. “There’s my olive.”

Rilienus rolled his eyes, opening his arms as she walked into them. “Pleasant journey?”

“Abominable. You could have made it easier.”

“Not without considerable questions.”

“Rilienus,” Dorian hummed his name, watching the two of them together. No one could see them and not guess their relation. Even their smiles were the same, melting and gentle, full of love and care. “Would you prefer I accompany you, or time alone with your mother?”

“Gods, no, don't leave me alone. She’ll make me clean my room,” he laughed, stepping back from Auna. “You look spectacular. I told you azure was different than teal.”

“So you did.”

Rilienus glanced between them. “Where are we going?”

“Around the grounds, as you like. Perhaps a visit to your young pupils; I’ve been meaning to sit in on a lesson in any case.”

“Yes, and I would like to see their progress. And your healer.” She squeezed his shoulders. 

“I’ll… see if I can’t manage both then.”

“You can and you will.”

“Alright then.”

“She might be more stubborn than you,” Dorian lifted his brows, meeting Rilienus’ gaze. “I worry for the Chantry Mothers.”

“As well you should.” She gathered Rilienus to her other side and strode between them. “I’ll take very good care of the magelets; have no fear.”

“Good.” Dorian smiled slightly, tucking his other hand into the folds of his robe. “They hadn’t received nearly enough care before they arrived here.”

“So I’ve heard.” She eyed a Chantry sister as they walked through the main hall and out into the sunshine. “The underlying patterns in this fortress are many layered,” she murmured.

“Many,” Rilienus agreed. “And difficult to parse.”

“Really?” She sounded surprised. 

“They’re not reflections of the Fade. They’re living.”

“ Are they?” Her smile widened as she looked around. “How fascinating.”

“It’s surprisingly resilient to the formation of rifts, as well,” Dorian added. “None of the same fluctuations we’ve seen elsewhere are present here. The underlying construction is a work of artistry.”

“Worthy of study, I should think.” So much in common. The way they studied their surroundings, soaking it in. “It’s quite, quite ancient, isn’t it? There’s a feeling- a warmth.”

“As though it’s welcoming us,” Rilienus agreed with a nod. 

Oh, but he could watch Rilienus think all day. 

And he saw the moment Rilienus spotted Anders. As did Auna. The smile spread. The eyes softened. 

It made Dorian ache with a jealousy he had no right to. To have someone look at him like that. As beautiful as it was impossible. He forced himself to keep smiling. 

Auna Maecilia would meet her son’s lover and know him as such. And he, despite his deepest desires, would remain the Lord Inquisitor.

“Anders,” Rilienus called as they reached the clinic. Expanded already, with the lumber he had provided. The healer wasted little time. “Put down the kittens and say hello, would you?”

“Ril- Oh !” Anders turned from his cauldron, a black and white kitten perched on his shoulder like a parrot. He approached them, beaming, wrapping his arms around Auna Maecilia. “Hello. I’m Anders. I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you.”

“As have I.” She answered his embrace as naturally as she received it, warm and tight, then stood back to consider him. “It’s very pleasant to put a face to the name. And who is this?” she asked, holding out a finger to the kitten.

“I’ve been threatening to call him Ril Junior,” Anders chuckled, “after my first three names were vetoed.”

“As were mine,” Rilienus reminded him with a sniff. “He looks like an Octavius.”

“Captain Mittens.” Anders shook his head. “Octavius sounds so serious .”

“He is serious. He’s a hunter.” 

Auna let the kitten nuzzle against her finger. “He’s very sweet, isn’t he? Whatever his name is.” She chuckled, looking between them fondly. “He clearly has good influences. I heard there was a little gray one as well?”

“Dusty,” Rilienus reminded her quietly. 

“No debate on her name?”

“Tula named her.” 

“Ah, the infamous Tula.” She kissed her son’s cheek. “Quite the collection, my olive.”

Rilienus held up a hand. “She’s usually in the basket by the fire. I’ll get her.”

Auna turned a slow circle, taking in the space. “I imagine the underlying patterns of the fortress augment your healing here.”

“Oh, hm.” Anders had been watching Rilienus go, a fond little smile playing across his lips. That was love, unrelenting and fearless. “I hadn’t thought of it, but now that you mention it, I have felt it’s been easier here.”

“ Fascinating . Arcane architecture was one of my passions when I was younger. There are so many elements to it, and a living structure like this-“ Rilienus’ mother rubbed her hands together. “I would love to gather some data. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind taking some minor measurements while you’re in Orlais and we can compare the sample when you return?”

“I wouldn’t mind in the slightest.” Dorian nodded, making a mental note. “If you can supply me with the measurements and any instrumentation you require, I will see it done.”

“Wonderful. We can see if we can’t get this beauty working in your favor instead of simply holding course.” Auna cooed as Rilienus carried over the drowsy little gray kitten in the palms of his hands. “She does look like the sweetest little pile of ashes, doesn’t she?”

“She doesn’t use her claws,” Rilienus told her as he eased the cat into her hands. “She’s very respectful of velvet. Unlike some I won’t mention.”

“Hm.” She ran her thumbs over the fur, studying the tiny wet eyes. “She is lovely. They both are. And so small! Reminds me of the rats I kept when I was little.” 

“Don’t,” Rilienus sighed. “Don’t talk about the rats. Especially not in front of Tula. I beg you.”

“Children should have pets. You were also so fastidious.”

“You kept trying to foist fecal-dispensing messes on me.” Rilienus gathered the kitten back in his hands. “These have the decency to keep that sort of mess to themselves.”

Auna patted his cheek. “I’m glad you’re fond, my olive.”

“I am,” he admitted quietly. “I very much am.”

“Good.” She tweaked his nose lightly, looking back to Anders as her son carried the sleepy kitten back to its nest. “I am hoping you’ll be able to show me your garden before you all take your leave.”

“Absolutely!” Anders beamed. “Whenever you’d like. It’s a bit of a construction hazard in here in any case; we could go now if you’d like.” 

God, but they were happy. Rilienus doting on kittens . That, he would never have expected. 

“I’ll leave you all to catch up, shall I?” Dorian asked softly, as Rilienus padded back towards them. Bizarre, being there, when Rilienus was nesting. “There are still a great many preparations to make before we leave for Orlais.”

“I’ll go with you, Inquisitor.” Rilienus paused, kissing Anders’ cheek in full view of his mother who seemed… not the least surprised or discontented. “I have to fetch the class anyway. We’ll meet you in the inner courtyard and do a lesson on horticulture, hm?”

“Yes?” Dorian asked him gently, unsure why he’d want to leave when his family was here. “As you’d like, Rilienus.”

“I’ll catch up,” he assured them both, slipping out into the courtyard at Dorian’s side. He waited until they were past the gray of the soldiers’ drills before he met Dorian’s eyes. “All well?” he asked. “You’re doing that smile that hurts.”

“Am I?” Dorian sighed, shaking his head. “You should be with them.”

“They’re going to have plants. Between the two of them, I could probably disappear for a few days before they notice I’ve gone.” Rilienus studied him curiously. “Did something go amiss? You were in there for quite a while.”

“We had tea.” Dorian pressed his lips together. “Is she… always like this?”

“Like what?”

“Amenable. Friendly. Welcoming. Those sorts of things.”

Rilienus tugged thoughtfully at his earlobe where a small emerald dangled. “…No. Not always. With people she likes.” He glanced between Dorian’s eyes. “So she likes you.”

“I…” He exhaled a sigh of relief he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Suppose she does. She seemed to know… about our shared history. Or have guessed at it.”

“She knows me very well.” Rilienus lifted his chin, crossing his wrists at his back. “I didn’t tell her if that’s what you’re wondering. Did you? She tends to wheedle things out of people by pretending she already knows.”

“I did not.” Dorian shook his head, touching the earring dangling above his shoulder. “I’ve not seen this one before. It suits you.”

“Nameday present. I try to wear it when I see her.” Rilienus met his gaze meaningfully. “I haven’t told her, about then or now. I wouldn’t, without asking you.” 

“I didn’t think you would.” He smiled slightly. “You seem happy. I wasn’t aware you’d adopted kittens.”

“ Anders adopted kittens,” Rilienus clarified. “I’m trying to engage his sense of what may come after we survive all the nonsense ahead of us. I wouldn’t mind engaging yours, either. Do you need a kitten as well?”

“…what?” Dorian blinked. “Why would I want a creature to be responsible for?”

“You’ve got a number of creatures to be responsible for already,” Rilienus mused. “At least with the cat, it’s content with a bit of food.”

“You didn’t get me a cat, did you?” Dorian widened his eyes. “I really don’t want anything else to look after.”

“No?” He touched the fold of Dorian’s robes, straightening the line. “What about me?”

“ You can look after yourself.”

“I still like to be fed.” His lips quirked into a small smile. “And pet.” 

“I’ve noticed. It would have been difficult not to.” Dorian smiled slightly. “And what is his sense of what he means to do afterwards? More cats?”

“That does seem to be part of the plan; I am trying to cap it at two. Did you know they live for decades?” Rilienus watched him, searching. For what, Dorian wasn’t entirely sure. “Maybe that’s a conversation for the three of us to have, at some point, hm? Plans. And decades.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t like to speak for him.” Rilienus rubbed the hem of Dorian’s robes between his fingers. “At some point. When you’re ready. We can talk about the after. Maybe when you finally start to believe me that there will be one.”

“They’re going to outlive us both,” Dorian said quietly, turning from him, a sharp ache in his chest.

“No. They won’t.” Rilienus stepped to his side. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“Not once, as far as I’m aware.” Dorian glanced between his eyes. “Decades, you said.”

“Two at the very least.” Dark green eyes remained steadily on his. “We’ve lost that many already. I’d like to reclaim them.”

“With me.” Dorian watched the emerald shift in his eyes. “Our years.”

“If you’re interested.”

“I don’t know how many I’ll have left, darling.” Dorian stepped closer. “Neither does he.”

“More, if we stick together. I know that much. Don’t you?”

“You wish to keep us both?” He asked, knowing the answer before he’d asked it.

“Have I been subtle?” Rilienus asked with a quick soft laugh. “I’m greedy and demanding. Decadent. Deviant. Can you bear it?”

“There is little I could not bear for you,” Dorian touched his shoulder lightly. “Would you have me return to Tevinter?”

“One thing at a time.” Rilienus pressed his shoulder up to Dorian’s hand. “We’re here now. I want to be happy. That’s what I want. To be happy and to kill every bastard who tries to get in the way of that.”

“A small order, that,” Dorian closed his eyes, drawing him as close as he dared. “I’d spend the time I have left with you, amatus . To be happy would be a welcome change of pace. I may need you to show me how I can be, again.”

“I will, if you let me.” His breath was warm against Dorian’s throat. “Will you?”

“You wish to?” Dorian glanced between his eyes. “I cannot bear to get between you and the contentment you’ve built here.”

“You won’t. You can be content, too.” Rilienus leaned closer. “Tonight. We’ll talk. You’ll see. Yes?”

“Yes. We shall.” Dorian nodded slowly. “Do you trust her?”

“More than anyone else in the world. More than myself, often enough.”

“Tell her, then,” Dorian whispered, searching his gaze. “If it would please you. Tell her that I won’t hurt you again.”

It must have been the light catching the corner of Rilienus’ eyes. They seemed to dampen and warm at once. His fingers at Dorian’s chest flexed as he took a deep breath. “You tell her,” he murmured, smiling. “Come with me and we’ll tell her together.”

“Will she understand?” Dorian murmured, touching his wrist.

“She understands me,” he said simply. “She’ll understand. Not always perfectly at first, but she always gets there. The more important thing is that you’re willing to tell someone. That-“ He closed his eyes for a beat, his dulcet tenor cracking slightly as he continued, “That makes me feel very, very glad.”

“She loves you and I trust your judgment.” Dorian caught his hand and held it for a moment. “She said, I believe, that together we would be unstoppable.”

“She’s right.” Rilienus always seemed so sure. “We would. We are. We will be.”

Chapter 8: Dorian

By the time Dorian had finished checking over the plans for the coming travel with Cassandra and Cullen and Josephine, the sun was beginning to tilt towards the horizon. 

Rilienus had been right about one thing. They were still in the walled garden. A whole bevy of magelets and three mages in their prime being studied with varying levels of unease by the people resting in the shaded archways around them. Rilienus had the little blond girl and a few of her contemporaries forming shapes out of the water in the center fountain while Anders and Auna knelt beside the felandaris. Content, he’d said. This was contentment. They didn’t seem the least bit concerned about their observers or their opinions. They’d made Skyhold their home and were teaching the little ones to view it that way, too. Even some of the older children who had been fiercely skittish and quiet after their time in the southern Circles were laughing as they watched the little ones. 

Dorian smiled, watching them all.

Together. He’d wanted to stay together, after all this was over. For the moment, with the children playing and showing off, it seemed almost possible. The blonde girl hugged Dorian’s first love, her cheeks bright red from exertion, eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated joy.

When they found her, Red Templars were trying to call a demon into her body. She had sobbed the entire way back to Haven. Now she laughed, no longer afraid of her magic.

Rilienus was a miracle. His miracle, if only he could manage to keep him.

“Well done. Very well done.” Rilienus kissed the top of her head, patting a little boy on the shoulder. “Now we say ‘good evening, Lady Auna’.”

“Good evening, Lady Auna,” the youngest chorused, echoed more quietly by a few of the older children. “Good evening, Anders!”

“Take turns with the scroll on soil charming and don’t tear it. We’ve only the one, yes?” He glanced over their heads, meeting Dorian’s gaze with a smile before he returned to organizing his charges. “And practice your braiding in the meantime. Air and water. We’ll review forms tomorrow.”

“Can we have biscuits with the kittens again?” Tula asked plaintively. 

“Tomorrow.” He knelt beside her, squeezing her hands. “You did a lot of work. Remember about rest after expenditure.”

Tula yawned, rubbing her eyes. “I’m not sleepy.”

“Wonderful, then you can eat something first. Go with Thom, and then you can take a nap.”

He stretched as the children headed off, stifling a yawn himself. “A walk on the ramparts, I think. Mother?”

“Oh.” She snapped her fingers, dislodging bits of soil and leaves from both herself and Anders. “Yes. A walk sounds lovely. We should be able to whip things into shape here rather nicely, I feel. Good evening, my lord Inquisitor.”

“Dorian,” he reminded her gently, falling into step with Rilienus. “If you’d be so kind.”

“Yes, of course.” She chuckled. “I imagine it must become tiresome being called by a title in lieu of yourself all day. I truly don’t know how people do it. Well,” she hedged, smiling. “I do know how; I just can’t stand them.”

“Alright, Mother, let’s mind our tongues, hm?” Rilienus lifted his brows. 

“It’s important to remember who you are, that’s all I’m saying.” She brushed past them towards the stone stairs. “I have limited opportunities to dole out my wisdom these days.”

“Save some for the children.”

“You are my child, and you always will be.”  

“Merciful gods protect me.”

“She’s right, you know.” Dorian chuckled, glancing over at Rilienus. “It is frustrating to be called nothing but my title.”

“Really? I think ‘Lord Twinklebuns’ is a dashing title,” Rilienus smirked. The clouds were all wisps and tendrils over their heads overhead as they climbed to the wall.

“Lord what?”

Rilienus’ eyes gleamed as he glanced at him. “That’s what Sera calls you. You haven’t heard it?”

“No, I have not.” Dorian sniffed. “What made her come up with that moniker?”

“Possibly - and I’m not speaking for her, mind, but possibly that pair of sangria-toned silk trousers you wear when you’re practicing your katas in the mornings.” Rilienus chuckled as he took Anders’ hand. “That was the moniker, was it not?”

“It was .” Anders laughed, holding his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. “And I think , if memory serves, yours was dumpling butt. A fixation on arses, the woman has.”

“And who can blame her.”

“ Olivae ,” Auna chided, but she was rolling her eyes, a laugh bubbling past her lips. “ Really .” 

“I like what I like,” Rilienus shrugged. “I suppose I could have a penchant for elbows or ankles, but where’s the fun in that?”

“There are a great many worse things, I imagine.” She glanced at Dorian, then back at Rilienus. “People who wear periwinkle, for one.”

“ Obviously .” Rilienus bumped Anders’ hip. “And lapis-shaded kohl. Horrendous.”

“What’s wrong with periwinkle?” Anders tilted his head curiously.

“No one can pull it off. They think they can. But they can’t. It’s a matter of lighting.”

“And transparency,” Auna sighed. “Unfortunately. However, I do recall that someone here did insist on wearing lapis-shaded kohl for his sixteenth naming day.”

“Because no one warned me that it was atrocious. I had to learn the hard way, thank you very much.”

“Some lessons can’t be taught, only experienced.” But she smiled. “I thought you were lovely.”

“You were the only one.”

“It was a daring choice,” Dorian admitted. “Memorable.”

Rilienus narrowed his eyes. “Now you’re teasing me. I didn’t come up with Twinklebuns. You can’t hold me responsible for it.”

“At sixteen, I was still clean-shaven and wore ruby robes. One cannot hold their teenage selves to their current standards, Rilienus.”

“One can and must.” Rilienus lifted a brow. “And if you’d been attempting to sport a full mustache at sixteen, you would have been a fool. You’re no fool.”

“I will admit, it crossed my mind.” Dorian chuckled, shaking his head. “But yes, you’re quite right; twenty-five was an appropriate year for that endeavor.”

“Is that when it came about? I did wonder.”

“ Did you, now?”

“When did you lose the little curls?” Rilienus asked, tapping his temple. “I liked those.”

“Shortly after I left Carastes,” Dorian said softly. It was just a touch, glancing, but the familiarity of the tone betrayed so much more. “I thought a change in appearance would ease the transition after my change in locale.”

“Pity.” Rilienus leaned against Anders’ shoulder. “He had these absolutely wonderful little curls. Like crescent moons.”

It always seemed as though it should be quiet on the ramparts, but the wind had its own volume, whipping the pennants and whispering over the stones. He could hear his own heart battling in his ears. 

Alone with Rilienus, it had seemed plausible to speak of it. They spoke of it often enough. Lancing the wounds, bringing them to light, then healing them with the balm of their congress. But that was then, and this was… public. Too public. So what if Rilienus trusted her, trusted them both? He had nothing to hide. He was free and open and holding hands like it was normal and drawing Anders into his lap without a care for who saw, and-

“I loved them so,” Rilienus murmured. “The mustache has a similar curl to it, though. More distinguished. We do all have to grow up, don’t we?” He met Dorian’s gaze, warm and steady. 

Loved them.

Loved him .

Auna Maecilia had turned back towards them, studying them curiously and Anders was grinning, hands tucked into the pockets of his robes.

“We do,” Dorian said softly, searching for something steadying in the eyes that had graced his dreams for over a decade. “The parts that matter, though, those remain. Thank the Maker.”

“In every prayer and offering,” Rilienus agreed. He touched his elbow, barely enough for contact, holding his gaze. “Desperately proud, Dorian,” he added. “And honored besides.”

“Ah,” Auna exhaled. “Well. It will be a crowded Winterfest, but those are the best kinds. Perhaps don’t tell your father just yet, olive, or he’ll be hying down in my wake to talk politics until eyes roll.” She glanced between Anders and Dorian with a soft smile. “Welcome to the House, my dears. I shall have some champagne and apricots sent down for celebration.”

Dorian studied fractal emeralds, his breath catching in his throat. “…just like that?”

“Fixated.” Auna touched his cheek gently. “I did tell you. A mother notices these things. Now, a bit of advice about my husband Marius. You’ll both need to practice what Rilienus and I do and simply tell him to stop when he gets on a tirade, hm? A spot of chess or a song on the harp usually does the trick.” She shrugged. “We’ll likely be there to remind you if you need. My, this is a view, isn’t it?”

Rilienus wrapped his arms around Anders. Contentment. “It is. The very best view,” he agreed quietly, gazing between Anders and Dorian with shades of the same deep affection. 

Dorian closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of his care even at the top of the mountain.

They drank wine overlooking the Ferelden valley and Dorian was treated to where Rilienus had inherited his very particular palate, not that either of them were wrong about the quality of the vintages available in Skyhold’s tavern, but- 

Rilienus brushed against him as he settled between Anders and himself, leaning against the stones. “We’ll bring some cases of Terre Venault back with us.”

“I should hope so,” Auna chuckled, glancing back over her shoulder. “I suppose I should toddle on before your ambassador wears a grid in the paving stones. Breakfast, olive.”

“Yes.”

“No sleeping through it. I’ve only a few days before you skitter out of reach again.”

“I will not sleep in,” he promised, laughing. 

“See that you don’t. One of you,” she wagged a finger at them both, “ before noon. One can’t eat eggs after noon and I very much would like to have a southern egg. Good evening.” She hugged each of them, darting kisses to Rilienus’ cheeks before she swept off towards the courtyard, a hand raised hailing Josephine. 

“And we’re all still alive,” quipped the scion of House Maecilia. “Mostly.”

“She wasn’t at all upset with you,” Dorian whispered, in wonder. “Even knowing. She simply… accepted it. All of it.”

Rilienus leaned against him, sighing. The line of his arm from elbow to shoulder was a much-needed pressure. “That was a risk you took for me, and I appreciate it.”

“ All of it.”

“Yes.” Rilienus wrapped an arm around Anders’ waist. “I am exceptionally fortunate.” The sky had begun to deepen into sapphire and plum, clouds like stray silk threads on the horizon. “In her. In my father. In you both.”

“As are we all,” Dorian murmured, reveling in the knowledge. Accepted, as simply as that. “Perhaps when we arrive in Orlais, you might inquire into the matter we discussed previously, hm, Rilienus?”

“The wine? Assuredly. I’m far ahead of you. Possibly three cases. I could sell them to Josephine at a profit.”

He shook his head, glancing meaningfully at Anders.

“Secrets?” Anders grinned. “I do love a good secret.”

“Look at that. Now you’ve got his nose twitching.” Rilienus touched the offending feature gently with his own, smiling. “I like it very much when you twitch, mel meus . Like a rabbit.” He hummed quietly. “Like a fox.”

Honey was an appropriate moniker, golden and glimmering in the sunset as he beamed. Anders nestled against Rilienus’ shoulder, kissing down his jaw.

Like none of it mattered. In full view of the castle, if anyone cared to look up.

And as Rilienus returned the affection wholeheartedly, Dorian realized he liked when Anders’ nose twitched, too.

Chapter 9: Rilienus

Rilienus 

 

“You’re certain you don’t want to use my room? It’s smaller, I grant you, but the wards are already in place and-“

“I can ward my own spaces, olivae ; I showed you how to do it.” She patted the little sofa that was against the wall in the guest suite. “It would be churlish to refuse the offerings of my host. I’ve taught you better.”

She had. But he’d also grown much much more adept at making and breaking locks than when she’d trained him on the kitchen cabinets. “A month, I think. To get there and back.”

“You’ll give our fond reckonings to Gaspard and Empress Celene when you see them.” She sighed. “Such a foolish war at such a wicked time.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“I know you will. You usually are.” She opened her mouth, grimaced, then looked towards the little desk. “I’m allowed to worry.”

“Of course,” he assured her, joining her on the settee. “You’re allowed to do anything you like; I’m not foolish enough to gainsay you.”

She hummed, nodding but noncommittal. “Which chapter of Calanthion did you say you’d reached with the older ones, again?”

“Twelve.” Rilienus smoothed his hand over the fabric of the seat. A trifle worn, but fine. “And the younger batch are on six; they have trouble sitting for long. Thom helps with that; the lanky lad with the curly brown hair. He helps me to organize the meditations in the mornings as well. Bright boy.”

“He’s had an excellent teacher,” she turned to him with a smile. “Have I mentioned how very proud I am of all you’ve accomplished here?”

He bowed his head, her words sating a silent hunger in him that had been there since he was a child. “Not in so many words.”

“I am. And your father will be as well, I’m certain, as soon as I return to tell him.” Auna folded her hands in front of her. “Can I make a request of you, cashew?”

Rilienus quirked a brow. It wasn’t like her to ask his permission for anything. “Go on.”

“Be careful with your heart, darling.” Auna sighed, peering up at him. “That’s all.”

The breath that escaped him sounded almost like a laugh, but he felt as though he’d been caught by the scruff of his neck. “…I don’t understand.” Three days, she’d spent with them and the magelets and she’d seemed enamored of Anders. Or at least: immensely pleased with herself for being able to make him blush at any given turn. “I know he’s Southern, mater , but he’s smart and he’s a survivor. By the time we return to Tevinter, he’ll be able to hold his own in Minrathous-“

“Olive…” She pressed her lips together. “I’m not talking about Anders. Just be careful, will you? A mother worries and I’ll be so far away; I can’t ply you with candied almonds and Antivan chocolates like I did during that very bleak summer.”

He closed his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. “He had his reasons, mater . I didn’t know them at the time- and I probably wouldn’t have cared if I had, but- We were basically children. Things are different now.” He dropped his hands limply between his knees. “There are… matters I would take to hand. Events that occurred that should not have. Anders says that it isn’t my fight.”

“Matters.” Auna sighed softly. “Everyone has their reasons for everything, olive. That doesn’t give them the right to hurt you.”

“…no. It doesn’t. But he wasn’t trying to hurt me. He was trying to protect me.” Rilienus flexed his hands, his stomach churning. “And considering what happened to him… It seems his intentions were well-placed, if not in error. I don’t know. Maybe, then, he was right.”

“There were rumors, you know.” Auna glanced at the door, smoothing her hands down the silk of her robe. “About an altercation between Dorian and Halward Pavus outside of Perivantium. An entire household guard was killed and the young man went missing, afterwards. A few of the mothers thought Dorian had died, only to hear he’d turned up in the south. Be careful, Rilly; you’ve enough to worry about as it is.”

“I love him,” Rilienus murmured. A household murdered? A man missing? Did Dorian know? Or had it all been lost in- “He’s been harmed by those he should be able to trust. Risked. Torn apart. I nearly lost him, mater . Probably more times than I know about. What would you advise me to do? Give him up because there’s a chance something might go wrong? There’s always that chance.”

“No.” She smoothed her hands across his cheeks. “No, sweet boy. Just… I worry. It’s my job to worry.”

“I know it.” He touched her hand gently. “I know. I’m grateful for your watchful eyes. But I’ve loved him since I was eighteen. When I saw him again in Redcliffe… It was as though my heart started beating again after waiting for years. I wouldn’t have been awake to find Anders, if it hadn’t been for him. I’m going to look after them. And they’ll look after me.”

“I know you will.” She tapped the tip of his nose, her smile watery. “Your father and I were blessed to have such a loving son. Whoever you choose to share your heart with is doubly so.”

“…what do you think?” he asked quietly. 

“What do I think about what?”

Rilienus lifted his brows. “He’s asked me to marry him. Anders has. What do you think ?”

“ Has he?” Auna beamed, glancing between his eyes. “I’m not sure my opinion is much of a factor, little dove. That doesn’t mean you’re going to stay in the south indefinitely, does it? There’s far from enough sunshine here and I will not have my son wilting .”

“No wilting. After- I want to see this madness done, and then I want to bring Anders home,” Rilienus admitted. There was still so much to do and the idea of leaving Dorian behind made his heart ache. But he could not make decisions for Dorian any more than he could make decisions for anyone else. All he could do was try to make the Imperium the kind of place where Dorian would feel safe to return. “I want to build a home with him. I think… I think I’m finished wandering. These last months…” he shook his head. “I have a duty to the Imperium. That so many of our countrymen have joined this farcical cause-“ he exhaled sharply. Gereon Alexius, of all people, who had been a friend and ally to his parents since he was young. “A landing. A safe harbor.”

“You’ll have one.” His mother hugged him tightly, squeezing his shoulders. “We can build out the guest house near the cherry trees. 

“That would be something wonderful.” Rilienus leaned against her. “I’d like to hear your opinion, if only to try to alter it.”

“About Anders?”

“About marrying him.” He tilted his head. “It won’t win me any allies.”

“It might, more than you expect,” she said softly. “I’m not saying it won’t cause you problems, but… is it something you want?”

Soft mornings and slow kisses and the sound of Anders’ laugh when he played with the kittens. “I want a life with him,” he said as he’d told Anders. “I’d never really thought I could - I’ve not heard of a Father who would. And I’d adjusted to the idea that I wouldn’t find myself in love again, let alone doubly so.” He rubbed his cheek. “The look on his face when he asked… Do you know, I think I rather would.”

“Then I think you should.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek, beaming. “We can make a big to-do if you’d like. Perhaps the Father who married your Father and I would be amenable. Oh, I’m so happy for you, my little cashew.”

“I’m glad you were able to make the trip.” He wrapped an arm around her. “I’m relieved that you’ve met them both now.”

“ I’m relieved to see you so happy.” Auna studied him, cupping his cheek. “You’re radiant. I’m not sure I’ve seen you this happy since you were picking peaches from my apron.”

“Those were good peaches,” Rilienus protested, laughing. “I look forward to picking them from your apron again. Tula- I think she’ll be very happy in the orchard, too. And Thom will enjoy climbing the trees. It’s a charmed place.”

“You’re bringing the children with you?” Auna whispered, eyes going wide. “Truly?”

“Tula’s family is gone. She’s no one to reclaim her and we’ve bonded. We’re still looking for Thom’s, but if we can’t- Yes. I’d like to bring them. Claim them. Our House does have to continue. They would do us proud.” He met her gaze, glancing between them. “I would, of course, gain your and father’s permission before naming them heirs.”

“ Heirs .” She beamed, as bright as the Tevinter sun. “You’re bringing home my grandchildren . I-“ His mother shook her head, helpless. “I believe I may need to sit down.”

“You are sitting down,” he chuckled. “Another reason I’m pleased you’re able to come and spend some time. Get to know them.”

“My grandchildren . You didn’t tell me I was going to be a grandmother. You need to warn a woman, first, didn’t you know?” She pressed her palm to her head. “Have you told them?”

He shook his head. “No. I wanted to speak to you first, and to be sure that I can . The Mothers are already being rather difficult about my merely teaching them; they only just stopped chaperoning our lessons a couple weeks ago.” Rilienus hugged her. “I didn’t want to get their hopes up, especially Tula’s, before I was quite sure I could pull it off.” He rolled his eyes. “Anders wants to take the whole flock.”

“Of course he does. He’s got quite the heart, your healer.” Auna sniffled, taking out a handkerchief. “I will write your father, but I’m certain he will agree. Children. You’re certain you don’t have any other surprises for me, cashew?”

“A husband, a lover, and two children,” he counted off on his fingers. “I think that about sums it up.”

“I’m proud of you, Rilienus,” she withdrew a handkerchief, dabbing at her cheeks lightly. “You’ve made quite the life for yourself. We’ll make sure you have a safe place for your flock when you return; don’t you worry about that. A proper nest for you to come home to.”

“You’ve always been my safe place to come home to, mater . I’m afraid I’ve taken you for granted.”

“Why would you say such a thing? You’re my baby. You’ll always be my baby. It’s been wonderful to see you sparkle, my dove.”

“That’s the thing. I’m afraid I’ve been under the impression that you and Pater were the rule, not the exception. My time down here has taught me otherwise, again and again.”

“Your father and I wanted to give you space to flourish, olivae , and you have.” Auna frowned, studying him. “Which rules and exceptions are you speaking of, precisely?”

“That love is immutable and unconditional,” he answered, his heart heavy. “That a parent would always do anything to protect their child.”

“The world is a cruel place, my little olive. I know that you will do anything to protect yours.” His mother hugged him close. “I’ve never doubted that for a moment. Perhaps I was unsure if there would be any, but it wasn’t my place to pressure you. You’ve more than enough on your plate.”

“Have I? You’ve allowed me a remarkable amount of freedom to pursue my own interests and fill that plate to my liking. Perhaps that, too, I thought was more common.” Rilienus studied her. “ Am I what you wished for? Would it not have been easier to have someone more… expected?”

“I wished for a son who would be happy and well, confident and proud enough to live as he is, unafraid.” She pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. “You are exactly the son I wished for, Rilienus Maecilia.”

He felt his throat tighten as he wrapped his arms around her more tightly. “Thank you, mater . For everything.”

“Come home safe and sound with your new family.” She squeezed him so tightly he could barely draw breath. “That will be more than thanks enough.”

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away. There are peaches to eat.”

“That there are.” She leaned back, her cheeks shining in the candlelight. “Indeed there are.”

Chapter 10: Anders

Anders

His collar was so starched he could have probably made a loaf from it if he had a mind to and the food the Orlesians served was so small it all seemed rather pointless and the nobles asked him either obvious or overly intrusive questions to the point where he very much wanted to scream, but Anders managed to keep those opinions to himself and smile through the fourth time he was asked whether he really knew the Champion of Kirkwall.

Everyone else seemed rather at home among the upper crust, save for the Commander and the Seeker, but the party made his blood boil.

There was a damned war and a hole in the sky and the Orlesians were serving some fancy tarts and wearing masks, pretending nothing out of the ordinary at all was happening.

“Ah, there you are,” Dorian Pavus swooped in to his rescue, just as Viscount du Smuttlebuttle or something of the sort asked him what exactly he’d used to blow up the Chantry in Kirkwall. “Just the man I was looking for. Pardon me, but if you could excuse my friend and I, I would very much appreciate it.”

“I was about to send him looking for bat feces,” Anders grunted as he followed the Inquisitor away. “What do you need?”

“Nothing,” Dorian chuckled, “save your company. You looked pained, I must admit.”

“These people are insipid.” He scowled over his shoulder, adjusting the sash irritably. “Insipid and rude. I don’t know why he thought I’d enjoy this.” 

“He is exceedingly fond of the way your nose scrunches, so perhaps he was optimizing for his own enjoyment rather than yours, in this specific instance.”

“If he was here to see it, I might believe you. As it is, I think he’s dancing with Lady Frizzyhead or someone.” He huffed. “Probably. I haven’t seen him since we arrived. Have you?”

“Rilienus is talented at slipping away when he wishes to. I believe he’s after a few pieces of information for the Nightingale.”

“Hmpf.” He glanced at Dorian ruefully. “How’s your gathering going? Any progress?”

“Some. It’s all daggers and whispers here.” The corners of Dorian’s mustache quirked. “Rather reminds me of home. Fewer blood sacrifices, but the night is still young.”

“Blood-“ Anders gaped, then narrowed his eyes. “Oh. Sure. Joking. Joking is new.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Dorian’s gaze swept across the room. “I’m feeling a titch more myself. It would be better if we had worn our own clothes, but needs must.”

“I don’t know why you keep complaining. At least you can pull off red.”

“Oh, can I, then?” Dorian turned back to him, smirking. “Is that what you believe?”

“It’s not a matter of belief,” he muttered, unsure why the man suddenly had a glint in his eye. “You look good in everything you wear. I look like a washed up bag of wheat.” He crossed his arms. “What?”

“You do not, nor have you ever, as far as I am aware, looked like a sack of produce.”

“ Clean produce,” Anders clarified, holding out his arm. “Smell. I keep thinking there’s actually something good to eat here and then I remember it’s the soap he gave me.” 

Dorian dipped his head, bending low to kiss Anders’ wrist, breathing in deeply. “Not his. Too… floral, perhaps? It suits you, though; you’ll need to pass on my regards.”

“I thought it was magic at first, you know.”

“What, precisely?”

“Those scents.” He felt his cheeks warm. “How you both always smell like something you might find in a very fancy shop.”

“You’ve discovered our secret, then.” Dorian winked, a wry smile playing across his lips. “Fancy soap and various other necessities.”

“Right.” Anders cleared his throat, thinking of the scented oils Rilienus had rubbed onto him and into him. Warm and cool at once. “Other necessities.” He could still feel where Dorian’s lips had brushed his skin. More ointments, or was that just him? “More yourself, you said?”

Dorian nodded, weaving through the glittering nobility and passing through a set of wide doors until they were in a much quieter courtyard. “Indeed. When I knew Rilienus, I was a much different man. Bolder, perhaps. More reckless. Certainly more hopeful. It is sometimes necessary to be reminded of where one came from.”

“You know him now,” Anders reminded him. 

“Before,” Dorian clarified needlessly.

“I’m reminded constantly of where I came from,” he added, peering around the greenery and up to the stars overhead. “It makes me grumpy.”

Dorian chuckled, nodding. “I can imagine why. It does take insight to know that it makes you so, though.” 

“Really?” He wondered, wrinkling his nose as he recalled the last two lordlings he’d spoken to. “What does your insight tell you?”

“That I’ve missed being around people. Actually being around them.” Dorian smiled to himself, wandering past a bubbling foundation towards an intricate maze. “Did you happen to try the ham?”

“Was there ham? I can’t tell what anything is on those trays.”

“You weren’t missing much. It tasted like the world was ending.”

“Oh! A self-aware snack!” Anders mumbled under his breath. “Just what we need!” He jogged to catch up to Dorian as they entered the high-walled hedge maze. “You know, the ham’s not wrong. It does feel like the world is ending sometimes. And others, it feels like we’re on the precipice of something different. Hopefully better.”

“I do hope so, even as I prepare for the worst.” Dorian smiled slightly, following the line of vine-covered arches deeper into the maze. “He told me of your engagement and I wished to congratulate you. Men don’t typically marry each other in Tevinter. He would be the first Altus to do so, as far as I’m aware.”

The first? Anders ran his fingers back through his hair. “He said that it was uncommon, not unheard of.”

“…ah.” Dorian pressed his lips together. “I hope that knowledge doesn’t upset you. It wasn’t my intent.”

“It doesn’t upset me.” It filled him with a fierce warm light, from throat to fingertips. “The Circle doesn’t let us have attachments. Anything that we might deem more important than the Chantry’s mission was forbidden. Love of all kinds seems common enough outside those walls, everywhere I’ve been. Admittedly, not your homeland, but…” He grinned, blinking back joyful tears. “I still didn’t completely believe I’d find someone again. Not in this way. And knowing that he’s toppling some traditions for us… Well. I do love a spot of iconoclasm.”

“I’ve noticed.” Dorian’s smile returned as he surveyed the miniature lamps hidden in the bushes. “You’re very forthcoming about your feelings; it’s refreshing.”

“Shouldn’t I be?” Anders asked, itching his neck where the starched collar was gently attempting to strangle him. “I suppose I should, here, but I’ve had enough people telling me to hold my tongue my whole life. I’m not inclined to enforce the matter myself.” He paused, meeting Dorian’s eyes. “You know, there’s always people around. If you ever want to be around us without the pomp and circumstance.”

“Thank you for the reminder. I’ll take it to heart.” His eyes were liquid silver, shifting in the moonlight. “I appreciate you braving this party for me. I know it isn’t your favorite environment, to say the least.”

“Oh. Well.” Anders bit the back of his thumb. “It’s not the Circle. There are no demons and no red lyrium, so… it’s not my least favorite either.”

“No demons or red lyrium, yet ,” Dorian corrected with a chuckle. “It’s still early.”

“Noble politics are bad enough. Especially in Orlais. This is where they've decided my fate for most of my life.” Anders rolled his eyes. “And I don’t even speak the language.”

“Ah, would you like a lesson or two?” Dorian’s eyes glinted with something wicked. “Next time someone is irritating you, you could say ‘aller se faire un œuf’. ”

“And what does that mean?”

“‘Go cook an egg,’” Dorian lifted his brows. “Literally, at least. In practice, it means ‘stop bothering me’.”

“I’m not sure many of these people know how to cook an egg,” Anders chuckled. “Can you?”

“…point taken.” Dorian rolled his eyes. “It simply didn’t come up.”

He tucked his hands into his pockets. “I could teach you some time, if you’d like.”

“Yeah? Would that please you?” Dorian smiled, stepping closer. “Are there other things you want to teach me, Anders?”

He did have the most changeable eyes. Changeable and teasing. “…was there something you’d like to learn?” he wondered. This close, he could smell the man’s soaps and oils: rich spices that tickled the back of Anders’ nose. 

“A few things, perhaps.” Dorian admitted, holding his gaze. “If you were inclined.”

“…such as?””

“Whether or not your eyes could melt for me like they do for him.” Dorian’s lips quirked in amusement, his voice softening. “I’ve wondered.”

Had he? “You have?” About him? “Mine?” Since when? 

“Hm?” Dorian tilted his head to the side. “Yes, yours.”

“Are you feeling reckless because of the ham of despair?” Anders wondered. 

“The ham and the brandy,” Dorian admitted, turning his cheek. “This is going rather poorly, isn’t it?”

“It’s just that I never thought that you- I’ve never had the impression that you were interested in…” He smiled, trying to ease the tension of the moment. “It’s not that I’m not flattered. I am. But I know I’m not him.”

“You’re not,” Dorian agreed. “You’re spun gold and cast amber. I admired your work before we’d ever met.”

“You did. You said as much.” Anders bit the inside of his lip, wondering if the warmth fluttering in his chest could be a delayed reaction from the wine. He knew it wasn’t. “You didn’t mention the gold and amber bit.”

“Sometimes a touch of alcohol brings out the best in us, hm?” He leaned back, looking up at the sky. “It’s a beautiful night, if you don’t look too far to the east.”

Like he could have been carved from bronze, his face turned towards the stars. Anders touched his chin lightly. “I won’t look far.”

“No?” Dorian leaned into his touch and in that moment he looked almost fragile. “You’re certain?”

“I like the proud, reckless side of you,” he murmured, leaning close enough to taste the brandy on Dorian’s breath. “I’m certain if you’re certain.”

“I am,” Dorian whispered, his fingers reaching up and into Anders’ hair. “Maker, it’s even softer than I imagined,” he said, almost to himself. “The scents he chose suit you, Anders. And so does red. It brings out the color of your cheeks.”

So much talk. He leaned in, taking a fistful of Dorian’s robe to hold him close, and tasted- Ah, brandy and cardamom and spice- Warm and smooth and sweet. Dizzying. Taste after taste, until he was more drunk than any wine, bending to each of Dorian’s touches with a sigh. 

“You do melt,” Dorian whispered, lips curved in a delighted smile, breaths puffing against his lips. “What a wonderful discovery.”

“I do,” Anders breathed, nudging him back into the hedge. “Do you?”

“For you?” Dorian brushed their lips together again, pulling him tight against the hard lines of his body. “I think I might, if you keep kissing me like this.”

“Should we find out?” Anders wondered, tucking his hand between them to feel him. “Ah, you do like me, don’t you?” 

“I might.” Dorian’s eyes seemed to sparkle in the moonlight. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve snuck off during a party. I’d nearly forgotten how exciting it is.”

“And here we are.” He dampened his lips, glancing down as he squeezed. “All alone. I’d say haven’t lost the knack.” He flicked his gaze back up to Dorian’s. “Should I take advantage of you, Lord Pavus?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” Dorian bit his lip, pressing his hips forward. “What else are hedge mazes for?”

“Escaping Templars.” Anders sank to his knees, peeling the buttons of Dorian’s fly open. Oh, he was beautiful. Smooth and warm and thick . “Melting,” he murmured, kissing him gently from bow to stern. “Hm?”

“Just so,” Dorian hummed, studying him under lowered lashes. “Make me melt, darling, and I’ll return the favor sevenfold.”

 

He was beginning to understand why the Orlesians might wear masks. Try as he might, Anders couldn’t wipe the grin from his face. He could still feel Dorian. Still taste him. Thick and tart on his tongue. He exhaled low as they made their way back to the lights and sounds of the gathering. 

“My, my,” a low voice whispered from the shadows. “I slip away for a few measly minutes.” 

Stark black silk that moved like waves around him. Gold and gems gleaming at his fingers and ears. The number of jewels on his curled boots could have bought and sold the farm Anders had been raised on several times over. Rilienus. Gold leaf and kohl. “I do hope you've been doing things that I would do?”

“By ‘things’, do you mean Dorian Pavus?” Anders leaned close to him, whispering. Maker, they were both so beautiful. He’d have dropped to his knees again, right there on the dance floor, just to make that smile tilt sideways. “Where have you been ?”

“Listening to people much less pleasant than you.” Rilienus took his hand, tugging him close to kiss him deeply. “Ah, I’m glad you’ve come to an accord.”

“We have, I think. You look like a god tonight,” Anders leaned into his arms, breathless, as Dorian slipped away into the crowd. “I’d worship at your altar, if you let me.”

There it was. That warm tilt, that quick deep breath, hands tightening at Anders’ waist. “I will gladly accept your pilgrimage,” he nipped the words to Anders’ lips. “When we are finished here. For now, I need you to do me a great favor. Can you?”

“What, precisely?”

He produced a slender silk bundle. “Bring this to Leliana. Don’t open it. Just bring it to her. I need to let Dorian know what’s going on.” He kissed Anders’ temple. “I’ll send him to the entryway, where he’ll be the most visible. Find him after Leliana and stay close to him, will you? I think we will be in need of your skills tonight.”

“…yes?” Anders’ eyes widened, sobering, tucking the bag to his chest. “Where will you be?”

“Everywhere and nowhere.” He kissed Anders’ forehead. “Hopefully we can settle this without too much trouble.”

“I’ll find Leliana.” Anders cupped his cheek, kissing him again. “I love you, Ril. Be safe and come home to me.”

“I always will.” 

“I’ll hold you to that, you know.” Anders caressed his cheek, watching the emeralds shift in his eyes. “Go, then, and I’ll see you after. Keep the outfit on, will you? I want to peel you out of it.”

 

There was blood on the black silk when they finally danced in the Empress’ ballroom. He still smelled of ink and libraries, alongside sweat and copper. Anders could have slept right there, held aloft in Rilienus’ arms as they swayed to the music. 

“We’re so very lucky you were here,” Rilienus cooed softly against his ear, rubbing his back. “ Maritus meus .”

“I’m glad I was, too.” Anders held him, weak as a wind blown leaf. He’d almost lost him to a pride demon’s claws and Rilienus’ copper skin was still pale from blood loss. “Will you tell me what those words mean now, my love?”

“My husband.” He kissed Anders’ temple. “Mine. I’ve spoken to my mother. We’ll have a house in the orchard. Peaches and cherries and apricots as far as the eye can see.”

“So you’ve decided, then.” The words warmed him from head to toe and he beamed as they waltzed, closer than any of the Orlesian fuddy-duddies would have cared for. “My husband.” He kissed the words to Rilienus’ shoulder. “Mine. Always mine. I’m going to make you keep your promise, you understand?”

“I’m very much hoping you’ll make me keep all of them. You’ve a far greater heart than my own in many respects. I count on it.”

“Than this one?” He rested his palm against Rilienus’ chest. “I think you give yourself far too little credit. You could’ve died saving him, you know. Half an inch closer and I’m not certain you’d be on your feet.”

“Not now, perhaps. But eventually. I knew you were there. I’ve never seen a more accomplished healer.”

“Don’t use me as a crutch, Rilienus.” He peered into the man’s eyes, trying to tamp down the fear that had gripped his heart earlier. “I don’t want you to get reckless, just because I’m here. It sets me on edge, for one.”

“I’m sorry that I scared you.” He rested his forehead to Anders’, watching him steadily. “I only meant to say: I trust you and I knew you would keep me safe in the way that you do, as I will always keep you both safe, in the way that I do.”

“I will.” Anders closed his eyes as the violins swelled. Velvet and silk against his cheek. “With everything I have in me.”

“Milk and honey,” Rilienus murmured, kissing his cheek. “Lyrium and massages. You’ve been masterful as you always are. I could not be more proud of you.”

“We survived.” Anders sighed low, running his hands along the fabric on Rilienus’ back. Whole. Whole and unmarked, as though nothing had happened, even the thread that had been torn from his robes perfectly mended. “If you put me in a bath, I’m not going to make it to bed, love.”

“I’ll get you to bed. And I’ll keep you there for a day or three. We could all use a rest after all of this.”

“Three days, minimum, and then I’d like to go back to that hat shop.” Anders met his gaze, cupping both of the man’s cheeks. “I adore you. You’ve realized, right?”

“I’ve caught a few hints.” Rilienus kissed his nose. “And himself, I gather.”

“I’ve noticed.” Anders peppered his cheeks with kisses. “You do, indeed gather me.”

As the music softened to silence, Rilienus spun him gently from arm to arm, then held him. “Aside from the bloodshed, did you have a nice time?”

“Fits and spurts.” Anders nestled against his side, feeling very much at home in his arms. “It would’ve been better if we could have danced all night, just like this.”

“Hardly a party if you spend the whole of it with the person you came with,” Rilienus chuckled. “And you’d have missed your garden rendezvous.”

“Ah, yes, well.” Anders rested his chin on the man’s shoulder, breathing in deeply. “That was… phenomenal, really. I can see why you’re so fond of him. Another one of the reasons, in any case.”

“Oh, yes?” Careful pressure at the base of his spine. Kisses to his cheek. “Should we see if we can’t find the fellow and collect him? You can show me the reasons you think I am fond in detail.”

He felt his cheeks color, even in the darkened room and hoped Rilienus wouldn’t notice. “I think he wandered off with his entourage and the Empress. He’s got a limp I’m not too happy with, but I’m afraid I’m tapped out for the evening.”

“Baths, then bed for both of you.” 

“Baths then you then bed, I think. I’ve been thinking about this outfit all night.”

“The next party we attend,” Rilienus murmured as they walked from the dancers and up the stairs, “I was thinking white silks for you. White and gold. Perhaps a coronet. I think you’d look very fetching in a coronet.” Eyes behind half-masks studied them as they walked. Because they were mages? Anders wondered. Because they were with the Inquisition? Because Rilienus was Tevene or because Anders was Anders of Kirkwall? Rilienus didn’t seem to care one way or another. “A coronet and pearls.”

“For you, I’ll consider it. For anyone else? Absolutely not.”

“No?” Rilienus smiled against his cheek. “Not even while you’re worshiping at my altar?” he whispered, eyes dancing. “My very own Revered Father.”

“I prefer to worship naked, if it’s all the same to you.” Anders wiggled his brows. “Have you never been to a southern service?”

“Gods, no. I barely attended at home.” Rilienus snorted, straightening as they spotted Dorian and his council speaking with Gaspard and the Empress. They paused near the exit to the upper garden. “I’ve been to a number of spirit assemblies, though.”

“Did the spirits disrobe you and pleasure you until your eyes rolled?” Anders murmured, tucking his arm around Rilienus’ waist as Dorian attempted to manage some of the most massive egos in Thedas. “That’s what I intend to do if I make it to bed without falling asleep.”

“I appreciate your intentions, even if they do not come to pass this night.” He was strong again. Strong and steady, holding Anders up now that he was hale and- “You’re absolutely certain I can’t interest you in lyrium? It is top notch.”

“No, thank you. I prefer to recover naturally, when there’s time to do so.” ,

“I know,” Rilienus sighed, “but you look dead on your feet. A very modest touch with some tea. Barely a sprinkle.”

“I’ve seen what you call a sprinkle when you pour your brandy, love.” Anders eyed him skeptically. “It’s more a drizzle.”

“We aren’t all blessed with endless reservoirs,” Rilienus shrugged. “For you, a sprinkle. Yes?”

“If it’d please you, love. I might catch a second wind on the way back. You never know.”

“It isn’t about winds. It’s much more difficult to refill an empty cup than one with a few drops.” Rilienus cupped his shoulder. “Tea. And you can say how much you’ll take.”

“Done,” Anders exhaled tiredly, leaning into his arms. “Any guess on how long they’ll be talking?”

“None at all.” Rilienus squeezed gently, waving down a footman and requesting a cup of tea and honey. “We’ll wait long enough for you to recoup a measure of your brightness. Perhaps on the terrace?”

“Lead the way, darling,” Anders hummed, kissing his cheek as they meandered through the evening to a cozy bench tucked away from the bustling staff.

 

When he finally finished his congress with the Orlesian royalty, Dorian still favored his right leg and he looked about as exhausted as Anders felt. He noticed them as he exited the garden and flashed the two of them a slight, weary smile as he strode past them, leaning on his staff, the sound of metal clicking on the flagstones. 

“You should go after him, love,” Anders murmured, squeezing Rilienus’ hip. “Go after him and bring him back to our rooms tonight.”

“Together.” Rilienus guided him to his feet. “I’m disinclined to leave you alone. Has the tea helped at all?”

“A titch, thank you.” Anders laced their fingers together, abandoning his cup and saucer on a side table. “Together. You’re sure?”

“Quite.” Rilienus kissed his knuckles, following along Dorian’s trail at a measured pace. “I wasn’t the one rolling about in a hedge today.”

“I didn’t even know he was interested in me.” Anders turned to him, lifting his brows. “Did you?“

Rilienus’ lips curved just so.

“You did.”

“He didn’t want me to mention anything. I wasn’t sure when he’d come around to telling you.”

“He did more than tell me. He practically pounced.”

“I do adore his pouncing,” Rilienus sighed. “And the grappling .”

“He smells so nice, too.”

“Mmhmm. As do you.” 

“That’s because of you .”

“No, that’s because of you. You are sunshine and herb groves.” Rilienus tucked his cloak up and around Anders’ shoulders as they slipped out into the dark. “I have merely perfumed the rose.”

“A rose, am I? You flatter me, darling.”

“A sunflower.”

“Mm, are you trying to butter me up?”

“I’m thinking deeply of my sunflower lounging against my sunlight,” he kissed the admission to the crown of Anders’ head as they walked. “And how very lovely that must have been.”

“It was… enlightening.” Anders dampened his lips, almost able to taste Dorian on his tongue still. “Invigorating. He’s moonlight made flesh. He glows, from the inside out.”

“He does.” Warm lips on his skin, warm hands on his own. “As do you.”

“…should I call to him, or you?”

“He’ll stop when he’s ready,” Rilienus assured him, nodding as Dorian slipped past a trellis and down a flight of stairs towards the front garden. 

They found him, still as a statue, staring across a long, moonlit pool, silver lighting his features and making him seem ethereal.

“Did you manage to speak reason to Gaspard?” Rilienus asked quietly as they reached him. 

“An unsteady truce, with none of the parties particular happy, but at least there should be no further bloodshed.” Dorian turned to him slowly. There were bloodstains covering the front of his tunic, though blessedly, not his own. “I don’t think it would have been possible if not for you.”

“Group effort.” Rilienus touched his cheek. “Are we finished here?”

“Yes. I don’t think there’s anything else I can do this evening.” Dorian closed his eyes, pressing his cheek into Rilienus’ palm. “If something had happened to you tonight, I’d have never forgiven myself.”

“Ah. I didn’t realize you were behind the great unraveling of the Orlesian empire.” Rilienus met his eyes. “Come with us, away from here. I’ve a lovely little spot reserved in the city. Come.”

“…with you.” He turned to Anders, his eyes curious crescents. “Both of you. Yes? Is that what you’d have of me?”

“I’d have you again, if that’s what you’re asking.” Anders lifted his brows. “Did I not make that clear enough earlier?”

“No, you-“ Dorian glanced away and Anders was almost certain they darkened. “I thought it might’ve been the wine.”

“The wine ,” Anders repeated, lifting his hand to his lips to stifle a laugh. “No, my Lord Pavus, I’d need to be blind and a fool not to want you. Come away with us, Dorian. I’ve been promised a bath of milk and honey and I think it’d suit you nicely, too.”

“Ril?” 

“It’s quite a large bath,” Rilienus agreed quietly. “I’ve been promised- what was it, mel meus ? My eyes rolling back in my head?” He smiled. “I could be convinced to pay the pleasure forward.”

“Could you?” Dorian wondered, glancing between them. “I wouldn’t be a… distraction? From your evening?”

“Dorian,” Rilienus chided softly. “Come along, would you? Actions speak much more clearly than words and I imagine we’ve all had quite enough chatter for the evening.”

“More than,” Dorian admitted, smiling at Rilienus with such fondness it made Anders’ heart beat more quickly in his chest. “Alright, then. Show me to this bath of yours and we shall see about that pleasure you promised.”

Chapter 11: Epilogue

Rilienus 

 

Spring was his favorite time of year. The air was crisp and smelled of sweet climbing vines and new growth. The fruit trees were all flowering - purple and white across the orchards. Soon, Tula would be heading to Carastes and there was the matter of fine-tuning Thom’s apprenticeship and-

“You’re thinking too loudly.”

The mumble from the bed had him stepping back from the terrace through the light linen curtains; Rilienus crawled onto the mattress, resting his cheek on Anders’ middle to listen to the morning gurgles and slow, sleepy breaths. “I’m wondering if we should have agreed to let my parents take them to the coast for the week. It’s so quiet here without everyone.”

“Speak for yourself. I don’t imagine you had cats playing snapdragon on your chest all night, did you?” Anders pet his curls, grumbling quietly. “I think they miss Tula.”

“Hm.” They were sleeping now, curled on the chairs by the door, content. “I think we miss Tula.”

“That’s certainly true.” Anders massaged circles into his scalp. “I was thinking : today might be a good day to bring out that helm of yours. You could attempt to tempt me again.”

Rilienus chuckled. Would he ever tire of the sensation of those fingers on his skin, or in his hair? “I could, could I?”

“If you’d the inclination.” Anders hummed low. “Or we could get lost in the orange grove again.”

“Both, perhaps.” He kissed Anders’ belly through his tunic. “There’s no one to catch us.”

“That sounds exceedingly pleasant,” a familiar voice rumbled from the balcony, his shadow visible through the gauzy curtain. Tall and strong, as though sculpted by marble, holding a triple headed dragon staff and leaning on the archway. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, though. I’d say you’re very much caught.”

Dorian. 

Here.

But he couldn’t be here. He wouldn’t. 

Rilienus flexed his senses, tracing the outline of the man’s aura. Only it was him. The same roaring tempest of power. The same gentle currents surrounding it. 

He spilled from the bed, crashing against him and wrapping his arms around him tight. “You’re here .”

“I am.” Dorian kissed him in slow, lingering sips. “I arrived in port late last night. Good morning, amatus .”

“ Dorian ?” Anders called from the bed, shifting among the sheets. “Is it really him, Ril?”

“If it isn’t, it’s a truly breathtaking facsimile.” Rilienus ran his hands through fennec-soft hair, tasting mint and spice and watered wine on Dorian’s tongue. He stepped back through the doorway, guiding Dorian with him through the curtains and the wards, feeling them stretch and test. Still him. Still- He leaned back to look between Dorian’s eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been summoned.” He fished a letter from inside his robes, handing it to Rilienus. Parchment as smooth as silk and bearing the seal of the Magisterium. “My father’s funeral and my ascension. I’ve decided it’s time to come home, for good.”

Rilienus scanned the letter. He’d quietly rejoiced when he’d heard the news of Halward Pavus’ passing, but he hadn’t expected- “…My condolences,” he murmured. He’d wanted to drive long knives into the man for years, but had allowed cooler heads to prevail. Prevail and prevail until someone else had done the job for him. “You’re certain?”

“My heart is in Tevinter.” Dorian tilted his chin to kiss him. “It has been for years. It’s about time I join it.”

Long past time. He cupped Dorian’s cheek. “We’ve been waiting for you.” He glanced between his bloodshot eyes. “Why on earth did you take a boat? They never agree with you.”

“Foolishness,” Dorian chuckled, nuzzling into his palm. “I wished to surprise you.”

“You have.” Rilienus smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “A bath, I think. And something for your stomach.” Dusty stretched languidly, twining between their legs and leaping to settle on the pillow atop the wardrobe. “I wasn’t certain how to tell you.”

“‘Congratulations’ was the word the Magisterium used. An interesting sentiment to express when a man dies.” Dorian wrinkled his nose. “I wasn’t sure he’d kept me as his heir.”

“He was a monster, not a fool.”

“He was weak. I will not be.” Dorian kissed his knuckles, smiling slightly. “I need to speak to your father, at his earliest convenience, my love.”

“They’ve gone to the coast with the children.” Rilienus carefully slipped the buckles open, freeing layers of cloth and leather. “It’s to do with your ascension?”

“Mmhmm,” Dorian’s eyes seemed to glint in the morning light. “If you must know, I planned to propose a formal alliance between our houses.”

“An alliance.” Rilienus nodded. “I think that’s wise, though it may tip your hand with the Senate.”

“And yet.” Dorian smiled, touching his cheek. “I 

shall, regardless.”

“I’m quite certain he’ll agree,” he murmured, kissing Dorian’s palm. “We’ll speak with him when they return. Together.”

“As you’d like.”

Anders padded over to them, wrapping his arms around their shoulders. “Did I hear plotting over here? Before breakfast?”

“You make an excellent point,” Rilienus chuckled, leaning into his arms. “We should tie you to a tree and feed you peaches.”

“That is a wonderful suggestion, amatus ,” Dorian drew Anders close, kissing him deeply. “You both smell of sex and honey; it’s intoxicating.”

“He’s made the most delightful little oil,” Rilienus murmured. This. Them. This was his home. “Smooths all the rough edges, heals what it touches, and tastes like honeysuckle.”

“I can make you a bottle if you’d like, darling,” Anders offered, beaming, nudging Dorian’s nose with his own. “Did you say you’re back for long?”

“Forever,” Dorian grinned, smoothing a strand of blond hair back behind the healer’s ear. “If you’ll have me.” 

“What do you think, husband?” Rilienus teased, admiring the pair of them, light and dark, embracing in the morning sun. “Should we take him?”

“And take him,” Anders agreed, laughing brightly. “Welcome home, love.”

“Welcome,” Rilienus echoed, wrapping his arms around them both. “As if we would ever refuse you.”

“I had hoped not,” Dorian murmured, glancing between their eyes. “I’m glad to land here, after such a long journey. I believe I could use a spot of time in a place where no one can catch us.”

“All the time in the world.” Rilienus ran his fingers through Dorian’s hair. “Hours and ages. We’ll keep you safe.” He rested his cheek on Dorian’s shoulder. “We’ll keep you.”