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The silence Arlaros and Dorian rode in made the miles drag slowly by. The trip from Skyhold to Redcliffe usually took about two days. They were a day and a half into their ride, but it felt like weeks had passed.
Despite that, Arlaros’s brain was still swimming with thoughts and questions and more than a small amount of rage. The nerve of Mother Giselle to ask him to bring Dorian to the Gull and Lantern tavern under false pretenses made his skin crawl. But that was nothing compared to what Dorian had told him.
The letter Mother Giselle had received was from Dorian’s father, Magister Halward Pavus, requesting that Dorian be brought to the tavern to receive a message from a family retainer. Strange, but from everything Arlaros had learned about Tevinter, not that unusual. When he had delivered the letter to Dorian, though, he had felt the mage unconsciously drawing on the Fade, and the letter had begun to smoke in his hands.
He hadn’t been able to get any answers out of Dorian then, and three days later he still didn’t know anything beyond the fact that Dorian left Tevinter because his father wanted him to marry and he refused. Arlaros understood that anger and why Dorian wouldn’t want to speak to the family he had left behind. What he didn’t understand was the hurt underneath the anger in his eyes, as if he had been betrayed.
He refused to let Dorian be hurt like that again.
They reached the tavern where Halward had said to meet the retainer an hour later. They dismounted, and Arlaros took the reins of Dorian’s horse silently, leading the horse and his own hart to the nearby stable. He told the stablehand they’d be back for them shortly and returned to Dorian’s side.
The mage hadn’t moved at all, still staring at the dingy sign over the tavern’s door.
“We don’t have to go in.”
Dorian jolted at the sound of his voice. He tried to play the movement off as a shrug, but it was clear he was nervous. “Nonsense. I didn’t ride all the way from Skyhold just to turn around now,” Dorian insisted, his smile just slightly too wide. “Besides, if we’re lucky my father will have planned an ambush and we’ll get to fight our way out. Wouldn’t that be a wonderful way to burn off some steam?”
If the magic Arlaros felt in the air was any indication, Dorian was on his way to literally steaming.
“Okay. If the conversation gets personal and you want me to leave, I will. Otherwise, I’ve got your back.” He stepped to the side as he finished speaking and gestured for Dorian to lead the way. Dorian opened the door, and Arlaros stepped in after him.
The tavern was dark, and it was empty. Immediately, Arlaros’s hand went to the staff on his back, and his instincts screamed at him to leave. He held his ground, though, and a moment later a man descended the steps to their right.
“Dorian.”
Dorian turned toward the man, and although Arlaros couldn’t see his face, he could hear the way his lips curled into a sneer. “Father.”
So, Magister Halward himself had come to greet his son, and the letter had been a lie.
“The whole story about the family retainer was just, what, a smokescreen?” Dorian asked, echoing Arlaros’s thoughts.
“Then you were told.” Disappointment dripped from Halward’s words. He turned his gaze away from Dorian. “I apologize for the deception, Inquisitor. I never intended for you to be involved.”
Arlaros stayed silent. This was about Halward and Dorian; his own anger at the Magister wouldn’t help the situation.
“Of course not. Magister Pavus couldn’t come to Skyhold and be seen with the dread Inquisitor--what would people think?” Dorian stalked forward. “What is this exactly, Father? Ambush? Kidnapping? A warm family reunion?” He said the three as if they were equally undesirable, and the longer Arlaros stood here, the more he agreed.
Instead of responding, the Magister turned more fully to Arlaros and sighed. “This is how it has always been.”
Arlaros narrowed his eyes. “You went through the trouble of lying to a Chantry sister to get Dorian here. Talk to him, not me.”
“Yes, Father, talk to me. Let me hear how mystified you are by my anger!”
The Magister took a half-step forward. “Dorian, there’s no need to--”
Dorian turned sharply away from his father and caught Arlaros’s eyes. “I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves.”
The clipped words took him by surprise. Was that really what this was about? The reason Dorian left? “The company of men?”
“Did I stutter? The company of men. As in sex. Surely you’ve heard of it?”
The air around Dorian was growing hot, magic flowing and twisting around him just below the surface of the Veil. The pain and betrayal he felt was building in him, and Arlaros was almost tempted to let it explode. His father seemed to deserve it. Instead, he let a crooked smile pull at his lips.
“I’ve more than heard of it.”
Dorian threw a hand over his heart in mock-surprise. “No! The Herald of Andraste! I am shocked and scandalized.”
Despite the situation, Arlaros’s smile grew. “Such sarcasm, Dorian.”
“You’re not exactly subtle, oh Lord Inquisitor,” Dorian retorted, and Arlaros’s heart leapt. He had noticed. The flirting, the glances. Dorian had noticed, and he wasn’t upset. If anything, he looked pleased, the air around him calming.
Unfortunately, the calm didn’t last.
“I should have known that’s what this is about,” Halward accused, glancing between him and Dorian. His lips twisted in disgust.
“No.” Dorian stepped forward, placing himself between Arlaros and his father. “You don’t get to make those assumptions. You know nothing about the Inquisitor.”
“This is not what I wanted.”
“I’m never what you wanted, Father, or had you forgotten?”
Arlaros stepped around Dorian, pulling his gaze away from his father. If the two of them kept throwing accusations at each other, there was a very real possibility the tavern would burn down in the process. “Is this really a problem in Tevinter?”
Dorian scoffed. “Only if you’re trying to live up to an impossible standard. Every Tevinter family is intermarrying to distill the perfect mage--perfect body, perfect mind. The perfect leader. It means every perceived flaw, every aberration, is deviant and shameful!” He turned back to his father. “It must be hidden.”
Halward’s face melted into shame, but it felt like a mask, like a role he was willing to play if it meant things went his way. Arlaros’s blood boiled, and he began to feel his magic rumbling beneath his skin.
“That’s what all of this is about? Who you sleep with?” His voice was incredulous, even to his own ears, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Dorian’s father had treated him so poorly because of his sexuality that Dorian had left his home, his entire country!
But then Dorian shook his head, and a shiver ran down Arlaros’s spine. “That’s not all it’s about.”
Halward clasped his hands together, his voice somewhere between pleading and disappointed as he said, “Dorian, please. If you’ll only listen to me.”
“Why?” Dorian crossed the distance between them in two quick strides. “So you can spout more convenient lies? He taught me to hate blood magic--the result of a weak mind. Those are his words!” Dorian turned on his heel and crossed back to the center of the room. “But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to… change me.”
Dorian’s voice broke on the last two words, and Arlaros’s heart broke along with it.
“I only wanted what was best for you.”
“You wanted the best for you! Your fucking legacy! Anything for that.”
Sparks began to flick in and out of existence around Dorian, and Arlaros couldn’t stay still any longer. He crossed to Dorian’s side, standing close enough that their shoulders brushed. For a moment, they just breathed together, the magic receding.
“You don’t need to stay,” he murmured, pressing his shoulder into Dorian’s. “You don’t owe him anything.”
Dorian blinked at him, his eyes wet with unshed tears. Then, he smiled--a small, fragile thing but there nonetheless. “You’re right.” He turned toward Halward. “Goodbye, Father. Don’t bother the Inquisitor or me again.”
They walked out the door before Halward could reply.
. . .
Four hours later, they were finishing their dinner, having built a small campsite as the sun was setting. The ride back had been quiet, and Arlaros was more than willing to give Dorian whatever space he needed. Now, they sat across a small fire, the crackle of the wood the only sound between them.
Arlaros could see Dorian picking at the edge of his sleeve, lost in thought. What must be going through his mind? Arlaros couldn’t imagine how he would have reacted to someone he loved, he looked up to, trying to use blood magic to change him. Sex and sexuality were a non-issue in his clan, and no one had ever bat an eye at the fact he preferred men.
He found himself reliving memories of his time with his clan, his partners, trying to imagine what life would have been like if he had been forced to hide that part of himself. Even in his imagination it was painful.
Lost in his own thoughts, he almost didn’t hear Dorian’s quiet cough. He blinked, and when his eyes refocused, he found himself meeting Dorian’s gaze over the flames.
“I want to apologize.” Dorian said. “For the mess you had to see. Halward Pavus has poisoned enough lives; he shouldn’t have touched yours.”
Arlaros shook his head. “If anyone should apologize, it’s me. I shouldn’t have dragged you to that tavern. It was obvious there was bad history between you and your family, and you shouldn’t have had to relive that.”
A humorless chuckle slipped from Dorian’s mouth. “You didn’t force me to do anything. I walked into that building of my own free will. You helped me walk back out.” He broke eye-contact. “Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display.”
The self-deprecation in Dorian’s voice was nearly tangible, and Arlaros couldn’t let that lie. Without giving himself time to think, he stood and circled around the fire to kneel next to Dorian.
“I don’t think any less of you,” he swore, holding Dorian’s eyes and praying he believed him. “More, if that’s possible.”
A disbelieving smile crossed Dorian’s lips, and he shook his head. “The things you say…”
“I mean it.”
Dorian glanced away, staring into the fire. “My father never understood. He asked me to live a lie, and doing that? It festers inside of you, like poison.” He turned back to Arlaros, determination dancing in his eyes. “You have to fight for what’s in your heart.”
Arlaros met his gaze and embraced the hope he saw there. “I agree.”
He leaned forward, and Dorian followed. Their lips met in the middle, and it took all of Arlaros’s restraint not to turn the kiss filthy. As it was, he was breathless when they parted, and he couldn’t help but lick his lips to chase the taste of Dorian on his skin. Dorian’s eyes watched his movements, and heat raced through his skin.
But then Dorian pulled back and visibly exerted control over himself until his gaze was calm once again. Arlaros forced himself to do the same--now wasn’t the time for…whatever this was.
“Not everyone would have stood up to Halward Pavus at my side. Thank you, Arlaros.”
Arlaros smiled softly. “I’m honored you trusted me enough to stay. You’re a magnificent person, Dorian, and if your father isn’t willing to see that, he’s a fool.”
That earned him a quiet laugh. They fell into silence then, and Arlaros let himself lean into Dorian’s shoulder, smiling when Dorian didn’t pull away. They sat like that for what could have been a few minutes or a few hours before Dorian rolled his shoulders and stood with a quiet groan.
“It’s time I turned in for my beauty sleep. When we get back to Skyhold I fully intend to drown my sorrows in several bottles of expensive wine. You’re welcome to join me, if you’d like.”
The fire threw all of Dorian’s angles into sharp relief, shadows dancing patterns on his skin. He was gorgeous. After today, though, Arlaros was beginning to realize that for all Dorian’s cockiness, he didn’t believe in his own worth. He’d have to do something about that. He looked up at Dorian and smiled.
“Maybe we’ll find something less sorrowful to drink to.”
“Maybe we will. Goodnight, Arlaros.”
“Goodnight, Dorian.”
Arlaros went to bed content that night, and for the first time since Corypheus had destroyed Haven, he had something to look forward to when he woke up.