Chapter Text
There was a lot that Kahlan Cadash hadn’t mentioned in his letters. He hadn’t mentioned the growing pain cupped in his palm- it would probably go away. They would figure it out. It was hard enough on Dorian to be alone in Tevinter. He had mentioned how he felt, facing the hole in the world where Felix had been; before the Inquisitor, Felix had been Dorian’s closest and only friend. Kahlan didn’t want to bother his love with unnecessary worries.
He also hadn’t mentioned the ring he’d forged- borrowing tools from Dagna, he’d crafted a gold ring inlaid with intricately cut emeralds. It weighted down his pockets more every day that went by without Dorian.
By the time the Exalted Council came around, Kahlan found the pain from the anchor harder and harder to ignore. The green crawled up his veins like blood poisoning. But the thoughts of his lover kept him going- that, and the elfroot he had taken to chewing the way some Templars take lyrium.
The day he arrived at the Winter Palace was beautiful- this part of Orlais was mild, and the warm air smelled of dry grass and grapes. As Kahlan looked out over the countryside, he heard solid footsteps approach him. Cassandra leaned against the railing next to him, her long arms crossed. To him, she seemed almost coltish, limbs too long for her body, even more so than most humans. But he knew her unwavering strength, and having her next to him was a comfort.
She was wearing the new armor that Josephine had bought her- it was light, rose-petal pink, with hearts cut into the shining silver, and it oddly suited her. Cassandra looked happy, a high blush on her cheeks, her lips curling into a smile. She must have just come from speaking to Varric. Kahlan returned the smile. “What’s going on, Cassandra?”
Cassandra cleared her throat, and to his surprise, her eyes started to fill with tears. “Just know, my friend, that I am proud to fight by your side. You are kind, and fair, and you deserve every happiness.” She smiled. “I know it sounds foolish, but I care for you. On such a momentous day… Well, that Dorian is Tevinter may raise some brows, but you deserve happiness.”
Kahlan’s hand went to his pocket. “How did you know?” He hadn’t said anything, to anyone. Dagna probably realized, but she wasn’t much of a gossiper. Maybe she had told Sera? He didn’t want Dorian to find out before he asked- he had it all planned out- Cassandra wasn’t shrewd enough to figure it out just from some tools. Had Leliana seen him? She certainly wasn’t above gossip, not with her oldest friends.
Cassandra laughed. “Varric told me!” Leave it to the least dwarf-y dwarf to realize that lapidary tools weren’t used for much other than cutting gemstones, and that the Inquisitor didn’t have much need for fine jewels. Kahlan pulled the glistening ring of gold out of his pocket and held it out on his intact palm.
She gasped, the tears that had been pooling in her eyes spilling over. They were both romantics, and soon Kahlan was sniffling as well. Cassandra had been his closest friend since Haven. She was passionate and blunt, and she took care of her friends. After pulling him in for a hug, she continued her impromptu speech; they got so little happiness, people like them. She told him to that he should cling onto what little joy he could find and keep.
His reunion with Dorian left Kahlan disappointed- in front of the Maker and everyone, he couldn’t say everything that was on his mind, couldn’t lose himself in Dorian’s gentle touches. It had been a long time with only letters, and now he had to attend to the Council, business, no time for pleasure.
After hours of pointless debating and politicking, Kahlan finally was able to escape the stifling nobility and return to his lover. It was the golden wash of late evening, and he found Dorian by the fountains, reading. As he got closer, the tense set of Dorian’s shoulders gave away the tone of the letter crumpling between his fingers. Kahlan sat next to him on the finely upholstered sofa, their knees pressed together. “What’s wrong?”
Dorian turned his head, and replied quietly, “It’s- I-“ his voice broke. Kahlan cupped Dorian’s cheek in his right hand, the regret in his lover’s green eyes tearing at his heart. Dorian closed his eyes and leaned into Kahlan’s palm. “My father is dead,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry,” Kahlan said.
“I never- never spoke to him, not since he tried to get me to come home. I- wish I did. I can’t forgive what he-“ his voice broke- “what he did to me. But he arranged for me to come here, to keep me out of it, I suppose.” Kahlan brushed a light kiss to his cheek, and Dorian’s hand came up to cover his.
“I’ll have to return to Tevinter. Sooner rather than later. Can’t have Magisters romping around the South with their dwarven lovers. Imagine the scandal.” Bitterness furrowed his brow and turned his tone sour.
“Come with me,” Kahlan said, standing and offering his right hand.
They retired to their quarters, barely noticing the lush rooms that had been made up for the Inquisitor. The silk sheets were soft against bare skin, a breeze cooling the heat of their bodies. Kahlan drank in his lover’s presence, his perfumed skin, so prettily flushed in the candlelight. Paper was no replacement for the heady feeling that came from hearing his name fall from his lover’s lips.
His touches changed, reassured that his lover was not going to disappear, from desperate and needy to gentle, sweet, trying to show Dorian how much he had missed him, missed this, missed them.
In the warmth of his afterglow, Kahlan pulled his coat from where it had been tossed over a bedside table and reached into the pocket. Dorian was frowning slightly at the loss of his lover’s warmth, petulance furrowing his brow. Kahlan smiled, feeling lighter than he had in months. He returned to his lover’s side, letting their legs tangle together and holding Dorian’s left hand.
“My heart,” he said quietly. “My Dorian. I love you, more than anything. Every second we spend apart is painful. I would like to never have to be separate.” He held out the ring, watching Dorian’s expressive eyes carefully. “Will you marry me?”
For once, Dorian had no response, surprise written on his face. He looked down at the ring, shining softly in the glow of the candlelight, and back at Kahlan’s face, as though determining whether it was some kind of cruel joke. No matter how many times Kahlan professed his love, there were still times that Dorian would not believe him. Tears welled up in Dorian’s eyes, and he sniffed.
“Oh, amatus,” he said, taking the ring and slipping it onto his long, soft fingers, the fingers of an academic. He began to laugh, and pulled Kahlan into a tender kiss, his newly adorned fingers running along Kahlan’s jaw. He pulled back only to murmur, “yes, yes,” before leaning back into the kiss.