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Altan Lavellan couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face when he saw Dorian dressed up for Halamshiral. I love him, Altan thought. The thought surprised him, but it felt warm and familiar and welcome. He loved him.
Dorian smoothed his coat and caught Altan’s eyes in the mirror. “What are you staring at?”
“Just the most handsome man in all Thedas.”
Dorian’s eyes flickered back to his own reflection. “He is quite handsome, isn’t he?”
Altan came up behind him and hugged him, resting his chin in the crook of Dorian’s neck. “I would certainly say so.”
Dorian turned around to give Altan a peck on the lips. “Why are you still in your dressing robe?”
“My leggings needed to be hemmed. I’m too short.”
“Nonsense,” Dorian said, petting the intricate braids pinned across Altan’s head. “You’re the perfect height.”
Altan smiled. “I’m still getting used to being short. Dalish ‘tall’ is very different from Fereldan ‘tall.’”
“Are you tall among your people?”
“Taller than average, for sure.”
“But Solas is taller than you. Does that make him freakishly tall among the Dalish?”
Altan chuckled, leaning into Dorian’s chest. “Not freakish, Dorian. But yes, he is quite tall.”
“Tall is beginning to lose its meaning. We’ve said it so much, it hardly sounds like a word anymore.”
Altan looked up at that gorgeous smile and affection washed over him again. He really loved him.
Josephine knocked and poked her head in. “Inquisitor, your clothes are ready for you.”
Altan kissed Dorian on the cheek. “I’ll see you at the palace.”
“I can’t wait.”
*~*~*
Altan found Dorian out in the garden, holding a glass of champagne. Dorian’s face lit up when they made eye contact.
“You look stunning,” Dorian said.
Altan grinned and waved him off. “Thank you, kindly. How are you doing?”
“This is all so familiar. I half expect my mother to materialize from the crowd and criticize my manners.”
“What if your mother were actually here? Where would we be then?”
Dorian grimaced. “Short one mage after he’s dragged out by his earlobe.”
Altan mirrored Dorian’s expression. He didn’t like the face Dorian made. He wanted to protect Dorian. It washed over him so intensely, and that feeling was back. That love. He was so, so in love, and he wanted Dorian to feel happy and safe. The man in front of him was so confident, radiant even. He couldn’t imagine him bending to anyone’s will, even that of his mother. “I’m having difficulty picturing that.”
“Picture me a young boy of five years, then. She certainly always has.”
Altan had to shove down the urge to openly embrace Dorian. He schooled his expression and squared his shoulders. “I suppose those closest to us are the ones always capable of hurting us the most.”
Dorian nodded sadly. There was pain in his eyes that Altan would do anything to take away. Then he took a sip of his champagne, and the pain was gone. He was back to his charming and effortless smile.
Altan decided to let it slide for now and return to their lighter banter. “Don't wear yourself out mingling. I expect a dance before this is over.”
Dorian arched an eyebrow, a playful smile on his lips. “Dancing with the evil magister, in full view of every noble in Orlais? How shocking.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm.
Altan returned the smile. “They’ll live.”
“You say that now. If you can find me ten silk scarves, I’ve got a dance that will really shock them.”
Altan hummed deeply. “I’ll keep an eye out.” He placed a hand on Dorian’s bicep and squeezed lightly. “I’ll come back a little later.”
“I’ll be ready for your signal. Provided this punch isn’t as spicy as it seems.”
Altan gave a little eye roll. “Do not get drunk tonight, Dorian.”
Dorian smiled cheekily. “I won’t.”
*~*~*
Altan stepped out of the bedroom, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You okay, boss?”
Altan looked up at Bull and shrugged. “I don’t know what to do.”
“It’s alright, my dear,” Vivienne said, patting his shoulder.
“I thought I wanted to support Celene, but with that soldier,” he gestured back to the bedroom. “Fuck. I don’t know.”
Dorian touched Altan’s elbow and immediately Altan turned to hug him. He felt safe in those arms. He loved him. Altan tensed up as the words formed in his mouth. He almost said it out loud.
He stepped back. “Fuck, I’m so tired.”
“I know,” Dorian said.
“Whatever you decide, we’re here for you, boss.”
“The game will wear on anyone, dear. You’ve done remarkably well for someone with such little experience.”
“Thanks, Vivienne.”
Altan stepped out of Dorian’s embrace and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. He looked at the rest of his team. “If you all had to make the decision, what would you do?”
“We can’t choose for you, boss.” Bull adjusted his grip on his sword, shifting his weight to balance it. “I don’t want to affect your decision.”
“I want to hear your ideas.”
Bull made a noise of disapproval, deep in his chest. “I would see Gaspard on the throne. He would be good for Orlais.”
Altan nodded and turned to Vivienne.
“One strong leader is better than power divided among many. Beyond that, I fully back your decision.”
“A fair response.” Altan looked to Dorian who shrugged.
“I have no opinion.”
“Really? The one time I want to listen to your opinions on Orlesian politics, suddenly you have none? Somehow, I don’t believe it.”
“Then don’t believe it.”
Altan sighed deeply, feeling the exhaustion ache in his chest. He had to go back to his reason for being here. “There’s a lot to consider, but my primary goal is to hurt as few people as possible. I think I have to expose Florianne before anything happens. I don’t exactly agree with everything Celene stands for, but that’s no reason to throw the country into tumult with an usurper.”
Altan could sense the relief in Dorian’s demeanor. His shoulders loosened, and he smiled at Altan. “I think that’s an excellent decision.”
“There are those opinions I was talking about.”
“Hush, you.”
*~*~*
Dorian gave Morrigan a calculating look as she passed by him. She gave him no acknowledgement, so Dorian continued on to the balcony. Altan leaned over the railing, scrubbing at his eyes. They had puffy bags under them, making him look older and sadder than Dorian had ever seen him before. He was wearing his armor, such a contradiction to his hair, still done up in the elegant braids.
“There was an ancient dowager looking for you,” Dorian began. “Said she had twelve daughters! I told her you’d left already. You can thank me later or now. But you look lost in thought. Something on your mind?”
Altan’s eyes flickered up to him and then back down to his hands. “I’m just worn out. Tonight has been… very long.” He leaned heavily on the balustrade. His body burned with exhaustion and his eyelids felt heavy.
Dorian chuckled. “You won! You saved the day. Literally, the day is saved. You should be celebrating. Enjoy yourself while you can.” Altan managed a small smile, but he didn’t look up. “What you need is a distraction. I have just the thing: let’s dance.” He extended a hand to Altan.
Altan turned to face Dorian. The earnest smile on the man’s face set his heart aflutter. He was so in love. It burned in his chest. “I was hoping you’d ask.” He took Dorian’s hand and let him lead.
“Thank goodness one of us has a little initiative.”
Altan rested his head on Dorian’s chest. He was exhausted. His joints ached and his muscles protested. But the pain disappeared when he leaned into Dorian. “I love you.” His breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it felt so natural. So perfect.
Dorian took half a step back. “What did you just say?”
Altan felt his cheeks burn. His heart hammered in his chest. No turning back now. “I love you.”
Dorian wrapped Altan in a hug, lifting his feet off the ground. “Oh, I love you, too. I love you so much. My dear amatus.”
Altan buried his face in Dorian’s neck. He smelled of cologne and battle-sweat. “My love. My everything. Ar lath ma. Emma lath. Emathe em.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means that I love you.” He leaned fully into Dorian, squeezing him. He blinked away his watery eyes.
Dorian choked out a little noise. “Can’t breathe.”
Altan released him. “Sorry. I love you.” He took Dorian’s face in his hands and pulled him down for a kiss.
Dorian exhaled through his nose, and the warm breath danced over Altan’s cheek. Altan stroked Dorian’s hair and neck. The knot in his stomach swelled and crept into his chest.
Altan pulled away, breathless.
Dorian smiled. His eyes sparkled, and he looked beautiful. “Amatus.”
“Amatus,” Altan replied, testing the word in his mouth. He liked the way it felt.