Chapter Text
Beautiful, stupid elf. Dorian told him he was planning on leaving Skyhold once the whole Corypheus ordeal had been taken care of. He warned him, wanted to make sure he didn’t do something ridiculous like fall in love with him. And yet, here they were. “It’s time, Nahuel.”
The Inquisitor looked up at him, his face a riot of emotions. Anger, that one Dorian could see plain as day. But there was more too, a sadness painting his delicate features. His eyes had dulled from a clear, bright blue, the color of the ocean on a summer day to a flatter grey. His shoulders were hunched in defeat, knowing he wasn’t going to convince the mage to change his mind. And Dorian had been the one to do that to him. It tore at his gut to know that he was the reason for Nahuel’s pain.
They were on Nahuel’s balcony, the view of the mountains now forever tainted by the memory they were creating. That Dorian was creating. Dorian sidled closer to him, wanting to be near him. Nahuel shrugged him off. Dorian didn’t blame him, even if he had warned him months ago that he would be returning to Tevinter.
“Come with me, Amatus.”
Nahuel snorted. “Yes, because that would go over well, bringing your male elven lover home to meet the family.”
Dorian knew he would say no, knew there was no other way this could end. If only Nahuel would look at him, then he would see how much his own heart was breaking. But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. “Please, Nahuel, just… I don’t want us to part like this.”
Finally, he turned to face Dorian. He took the mage’s face into his hands, not bothering to be gentle with him. His lips devoured Dorian’s, rough and hungry, his kiss begging him to stay, begging for more, for everything. Dorian fisted the elf’s shirt in his hands, pulling him closer, but not close enough. Never close enough. Maker, how was he going to survive without this, without him?
Nahuel pulled away, Dorian feeling bereft at his abrupt retreat. His forehead touched Dorian’s, the gentleness of the act a sharp contrast to the way he just kissed him. Dorian pretended not to notice the tears running silently down his cheeks.
“Don’t go, Dorian,” Nahuel pleaded, his voice a barely audible whisper.
Dorian choked back a sob of his own, then, his heart shattering into a thousand pieces. “You know I would stay if I could, Nahuel. You know. I need to… Tevinter needs to change, to become better, and I can help it do that.”