Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The year following the Exalted Council had been taxing on everyone, the great Inquisitor Lavellan, most of all.

With the Inquisition becoming a branch of the Chantry and in the hands of Divine Victoria— well, Lelianna to her closest of confidants— there was even more work to be done, hunting down Solas and figuring his plan out, for one. The damn ancient Elf hid his tracks well, not even Morrigan and her limited control of the Eluvians could help them.

Cassandra remained an ever-loyal servant of the Sunburst Throne and was appointed the head of the Seekers and Charter had taken up the mantle of spymaster, establishing a new network Solas and his agents wouldn't have access to with the help of Harding and Sera. Dagna worked on new weapons, runes, and gadgets, Josephine remained an advisor and delegate despite her obligations to running her family's estate back in Antiva, and Cullen would always be a letter away should his old comrades need help, but for now, he was on his honeymoon with his new wife, traveling Thedas.

Lavellan became the Divine’s Right Hand— perhaps being the left would have been too cruel of a joke— still entrusted to lead the remains of the Inquisition and use its resources to find their former companion.

But right now, he wasn’t Inquisitor Lavellan, Savior of Southern Thedas, hunter of The Dread Wolf. He was simply Taa’lien, First to his Keeper and clan, mage, and protector, because the enemies he had made while fighting Corypheus would stop at nothing to destroy both him and those he held dearest.

“Another Venatori. Like roaches, they are,” one of the hunters threw the corpse of a robed Tevinter mage at the feet of their Keeper and First. “It looks like they followed us from Wycome.” He grimly observed.

Taa’lien bitterly stared at the body filled with arrows, teeth clenched at the thought of these pests invading his homeland and killing and kidnapping his people. Lelianna wasn’t joking when she said she had received worrying correspondence from Keeper Istimaethoriel in Wycome; Solas’ plot and the south could wait; the clan needed him.

“Burn the body with the rest of them and dispose of any red lyrium you find,” Taa’lien waved a hand with irritation. He slouched, exhausted, when the hunters left their presence. “Deshanna, why didn’t you tell me Venatori were hunting the clan? We could have sent troops to protect the city— you didn’t have to bring everyone out here to hide.” He turned to face her, eyes glassy, guilty for the pain he brought upon them.

The older woman reached her hand up to touch her former pupil’s cheek, attempting to comfort him like she always would when he was small.

“Da’len, I know what happened to you in Halamshiral,” her dark eyes drifted to the tied-off sleeve of his tunic, right where his left arm should have been, “I could not ask more of you, not when you’re hunting the Dread Wolf, but I do thank you for returning home to help.” He stood still, unable to look her in the eye as she recounted his exploits. She sighed. “I think you should rest, Taa’l; I know how you lay awake at night and how the wolf haunts your steps.” There was a long pause of silence from her pupil. “Come, I have someone very important who wants to see you. I think it will lighten your mood.”

Taa’lien’s head snapped up, expression alert and full of questions. Deshanna gently smiled, laughing as she led him to the outskirts of the camp where a large tent had been pitched for him upon his arrival. She nodded her head and silently urged for him to go inside.

“Via?” Taa’lien said hopefully, peering inside while calling his sister’s name.

“No, but I hope you won’t be disappointed with little ol’ me.”

“Dorian?” Taa’lien’s voice cracked, and he ran forward into the arms of his waiting lover. Immediately, his knees buckled, realizing just how desperately he had missed the Tevinter mage.

“Easy, Amatus,” Dorian chuckled, slowly lowering them both to the ground, arms wrapped tightly around the smaller Elf. “Cassandra told me what was going on, and seeing as the Free Marches are much closer than Skyhold; well, I figured I could make the trip while the Magisterium was on recess.” He explained, slowly combing a hand through Taa’lien’s ashen hair, trying to soothe his sobs.

“I’ve missed you,” the Elf choked out, squeezing tighter with his remaining arm.

“I’ve missed you too, now hold on, let me actually look at you,” the other man slowly tried to pry him off, taking in how he was fairing.

The ten months apart hadn’t been kind to him— Taa’lien was already on the small side, to begin with, but his frame seemed even bonier and smaller than before. The hollows of his cheekbones were more pronounced, and the dark circles under his eyes had worsened.

"Your hair's longer," Dorian chose to comment, one hand playing with a lock of hair that had reached past Taa'lien's shoulder.

“Everything’s been even harder since you left, but I know you couldn’t put things off back home.” The Elf admitted, staring at the ground as he leaned forward again into the other man's waiting arms. “The prosthetic Dagna made me still doesn’t work right… Via and Cullen are off doing some Red Jenny bullshit with Sera over some rumor of Solas… Varric’s in Kirkwall…” he shakily sighed. “I miss everyone.” He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to swallow his grief.

“Long for the days of the world ending? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“The world may yet still drown in demons like that future we saw together at Redcliffe. I can’t stop thinking about what he's up to,” Taa’lien clenched his teeth, squeezing the loose fabric of Dorian’s tunic sleeve. “When I see that smug bastard again…”

As he talked, Dorian could feel every bump and ridge as he slowly ran his hand down Taa’lien’s spine. It pained him, thinking about how his lover crumbled, pretending everything was fine over the message crystal so he wouldn’t worry. It was a good thing he came. “You can’t hunt down any smug bastard if you don’t sleep or eat.”

“If I stop moving, for even a second, I’ll drown, Dorian,” the Elf’s voice sounded so small.

“Deshanna told me,” the other hummed. “She was the one who invited me to the camp to see you— said she didn’t know who else to call when Via couldn’t be reached.”

“A Dalish clan inviting a Tevinter Magister into their midst… Corypheus really did turn the world upside down,” Taa’lien tried to joke, but he still sounded on the verge of more sobs.

“She’s a lovely woman— intimidating, but lovely. The two of you are very alike.” Dorian continued to stroke his lover’s head and back.

“She took me and my sister in when our parents were killed by highwaymen and raised us,” Taa’lien clarified.

“Well, that certainly explains the likeness.” He sighed before speaking again. “I'm sorry. I should have stayed longer when you were recovering. It killed me; the Magisterium was going to revoke the inheritance of my father’s seat if I didn’t return right away.” It was an excuse, not a bad one, but an excuse all the same. “If you wanted… you could stay with me in Minrathous. Help me change Tevinter; you’ll be protected. It would make my mother gawk to have you in my bed. Could be funny. Did you know she refers to you as "my colleague"? As if I haven't seen every inch of you.” He tried to lighten the mood.

Taa'lien finally broke, there were no more attempts to hold back the flood of tears building.

“As much as I would want nothing more than to follow you... we both know I can't. Not until I'm done.” Taa’lien closed his eyes, trying to focus on Dorian’s soft touches as tears rolled down his cheeks. He wanted to desperately go, to never part from the one person left who could ground him amidst the chaos of the world, but things never worked out the way he wanted them to. “Besides, the Imperium shouldn’t know about us, my presence would only hold you back.”

“I suppose you’re right; I have an uphill battle as is with the whole “abolishing slavery” idea.” It was worth a shot, but it wouldn't be wise to push the matter. “Please visit, though— I don’t think I can go another ten months without holding you.” He slowly traced random patterns along his upper back as he talked.

“When I know my people are safer, I will visit before returning to Skyhold.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you for coming here, ma Vhenan,” Taa’lien whispered, he was still so weak. He tried hard to keep his eyes open, but sleep started to claim his consciousness. For the first time since the Exalted Council, he felt safe enough to close his eyes.

Dorian carefully shifted the tired Elf, laying him on the thick bedroll beneath them, and settled beside him. “We can catch up later, Amatus; you need a long overdue nap.”

“But—”

“I promise I’ll wake you if more Venatori show up or if there’s an emergency,” Dorian quickly cut his useless protests off and pulled Taa’lien into his arms so he couldn’t even try to get back up. It wasn’t long before the Elf was out cold. At least he looked somewhat at peace at that moment. Hopefully, his dreams wouldn’t disturb him.

“He was always this stubborn, in case you were wondering,” the Keeper had poked her head into the tent, checking on the pair. Dorian could see the sad smile on her face as she looked at her pupil. “Since he was a child, he always bore the weight of the world on his shoulders, as he still does now. When he was born with the hair of a halla's coat I knew he was destined for many great things. I only wished I had better prepared him. I feel as if I have let him down like he probably feels he has disappointed me.” She leaned on her staff, brow furrowed with sadness.

Dorian recalled Taa'lien and El'via telling them stories of their Keeper and adoptive mother, how she kept them out of trouble and was a strict but encouraging teacher— a proud and strong voice on the Council of Wycome who twisted the arms of the other members into giving more funding to repair work in the Elven alienages, but the stories didn't do her justice now having come face to face with her. Her gaze may have been scrutinizing since he arrived and her leadership was stern, but she clearly loved Taa'lien and their clan.

Her eyes flicked up to watch Dorian as he held Taa’lien close. “When Taa’l first wrote to me about his lover, I didn’t expect a shem— pardon me— a human mage from Tevinter. Then, after hearing how his sister married an ex-Templar, I thought they both had finally gone mad,” she admitted, albeit with an air of humor behind her words.

“You wouldn’t be the first person to tell me that. We caused quite the scandal among the Orlesians,” Dorian attempted a half-hearted laugh. He couldn't blame her for her caution though, the world was still very much against them.

“I trust him to make good decisions; I raised him, after all. He was always a sharp child.” Deshanna nodded in affirmation. “And you love him?” Her face hardened, protective over her adopted son and his heart that didn’t need any more troubles.

“If I had my way, and if it were safe, I’d take him back home with me… Maker, I’d even stay here if the world was perfect.”

The elder's face softened once again. “I believe you,” she plainly said, coming to whatever conclusion she had been mulling about the pair. “Taa’lien also told me," she slowly started, "Tevinter looks down on your relationship, and not simply because he’s an Elf— that it’s against your laws and customs?”

“That’s right…” Dorian couldn’t help but be caught a little off guard. Where was she going with such questioning?

Deshanna’s brow furrowed as a deep frown set on her lips, not pleased with that knowledge being confirmed. “Well, Taa’lien is not of Tevinter and the Dalish have no customs against love,” she slowly spoke, pointing out the obvious, “but, should you desire it, I would happily give my blessing; you could have a home with Clan Lavellan as well, Magister Pavus.” With that said, she quietly exited the tent and left the man to his thoughts and a sleeping Inquisitor in his arms.

“Vhenan?”

The soft-spoken term of endearment pulled Dorian from his many thoughts—how many minutes had passed since the Keeper left? He glanced down, seeing his drowsy love reach his hand up, caressing his face, curiosity in his drooping eyes.

“Right here, go back to sleep, Amatus,” he kissed Taa’lien’s forehead, thinking about what the elder had said.

Chapter Text

Dorian wandered the Dalish camp for almost an hour before he found Taa’lien near the tree line, pipe in hand and kneeling beside his beloved halla companion. It felt like yesterday the pair had rescued and healed the poor, injured creature.

“How is the old girl?” He approached and gently held a hand out to the halla’s nose before she butted her snout against it in recognition.

“Falon? She’s well. She's just as spirited as when we first met her. Probably the only one who has gotten me through these past months,” the Elf’s smile looked brighter as he petted the soft coat of the animal, letting out a puff of smoke— Elfroot, no doubt for the aches that came with the loss of a limb and a fractured mind. “I think she missed you as well,” he chuckled when the halla licked at Dorian’s arm and proceeded to chew on the hem of his sleeve.

“Or she just missed chewing on my good silks,” the other man yanked his arm away before rolling up his sleeves and attempting to properly pet her again. “You look better.”

“I always slept better when you were next to me,” Taa’lien admitted and pressed a gentle kiss to the bridge of Falon’s nose before standing, finish the rest of the burning herb before tucking the pipe into its pouch again. He turned to look at his partner, eyes trailing to the right. “You’re wearing the earring I carved you.”

“Every day since I left the South,” Dorian pulled Taa’lien in by the waist. “I can’t tell you how many inquired about where I got it— some even asked to buy it from me.” He felt the Elf reach up to touch the dangling charm carved from a broken piece of halla horn.

“That’s right, you mentioned halla horns are a prized item in The Imperium,” Taa’lien mindlessly said as his thumb traced the thin lines etched into the bone. His chest ached thinking about them being apart again in a week’s time. He gave a short exhale through his nose, feeling his eyes water again. “Sometimes I find I’m rather jealous of Tevinter…”

“Pfft,” Dorian snorted, “Why would you ever be? It’s nowhere near as great as it’ll be when I’m done with my work,” his brow furrowed, confused by the statement.

“Sometimes I think you love it more than me,” the words clumsily fell out of Taa’lien’s mouth. A cold pit hit his stomach when he realized he had spoken the thoughts aloud. “I’m sorry,” he shakily breathed, pulling away. “That’s not fair.” One could say the same thing about himself and his devotion to the Inquisition.

“It’s alright, Amatus,” Dorian kept a tight hand on the other’s waist, pulling him close again, making sure he couldn't retreat from him. “I left you.”

Taa’lien violently shook his head, eyes burning with tears. “You asked me to go with you to Minrathous, and I said no, because of Solas… I agreed to this long-distance arrangement.” He tightly gripped the fabric of his lover’s sleeve. “I’ve survived the Conclave, Haven and Corypheus, losing my arm… betrayal by a colleague… my sister’s marriage— what’s one more thing? Right?” One by one, tears spilled over. His chest hurt. “I shouldn’t have distractions anyway.”

“Oh, my darling Inquisitor, you must be mistaken; it’ll take more than Tevinter politics to lose me,” Dorian reassured the other man and squeezed him tight to his chest. He then thought about what Keeper Istimaethoriel had said the evening prior. “What are Dalish weddings like?”

“What?” Taa’lien pulled away with more force, just enough to look him in the eye, tear-stained face confused and distraught by the sudden question. “What does that have to do with any of this?”

“Because, Amatus,” he fidgeted with the collar of Taa’lien’s jacket, awkwardly avoiding eye contact. “Deshanna offered me a place with Clan Lavellan…”

Taa’lien balked at the idea that an Elf would dare invite a human into their clan; even if it would be through marriage, the Dalish Elf would usually leave the clan and move in with the outsider. It was simply unheard of. He held his forehead as his thoughts spiraled, almost laughing. “That’s never been done before! And what good would being married do us, anyway!? We’ll still be worlds apart, only it’ll just hurt more when—!”

“Taa’l,” Dorian shook his shoulders, getting his attention again, hands lifting to hold his face. “We will be fine.” His thumb brushed away several stray tears. “You were the one who inspired me to want to change things. I wouldn’t be who I am now without you; meeting you was the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, and maybe… I’d like to do something to reassure you of that.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Dorian Pavus? He would never spew such sentimental trite,” Taa’lien sniffled and croaked out in an attempt to be humorous.

Dorian laughed and pressed a kiss to his lover’s forehead. “You, of all people, should know I can be quite affectionate when the occasion arises… or has our time apart made you forget that?” He raised an eyebrow, feigning hurt feelings.

“No…” the other man sighed and leaned forward, once more, chin resting on Dorian’s shoulder, seeking comfort. “Did Deshanna really say she would bless us?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“If you were a city Elf, maybe it would not be so farfetched… But a human? I can’t imagine most Dalish clans would be open to such a thing. I know there are members of my clan that aren’t exactly thrilled about us,” Taa’lien admitted.

“Guess the two of us will be turning heads and inspiring change all over Thedas, won't we?” Dorian stroked a hand up and down Taa’lien’s back, soothing him and his many worries. “The Dalish Elf Inquisitor and a Tevinter Magister, they’ll write so many songs of us, I’m sure.”

“Well, maybe in Orlais, they’ll write cautionary ballads of how their Herald of Andraste was corrupted by his evil lover from Tevinter and his blighted magic,” Taa’lien scoffed at the very idea.

“Sticks and stones and all that; you still haven’t answered my question,” Dorian poked his lover’s side, still prying for an answer.

Taa'lien gave an exasperated sigh. “There are variations of bonding rituals with every clan, but you stand before your Keeper, and recite vows seeking Sylaise’s favor. Some fashion rings, others exchange trinkets to be worn or weapons blessed by your Keeper,” Taa’lien quietly explained, indulging his lover’s curiosity.

“What does Clan Lavellan do?”

“Rings or other trinkets,” Taa’lien’s eyes flicked back to the earring. “I suppose the earring I made you could be considered appropriate for a bonding ritual.”

“You little sneak, masking your gift as a marriage proposal!”

That coaxed a small laugh out of Taa’lien, “Please don’t think you have to adhere to my customs because you think it will make me feel better.”

“I love you, including this part of you,” he looked over to the other Dalish going about their day— the shepherds tending the halla flock, craftsmen and hunters fletching arrows, and scouts taking supply of the aravels and looking over maps. Without the threat of being hunted, it was a peaceful day. “You know, I think you should take up Varric’s offer of the house in Kirkwall.”

Taa’lien’s brow furrowed, looking up at his lover. “What use do I have for a dusty, old manor when I have Skyhold?”

“Because, Amatus, one of Morrigan’s Elven friends is working on restoring an Eluvian there… and I happen to have found and purchased one of my own from a seedy black market merchant in Dock Town,” Dorian smiled wider, looking back down at Taa’lie’s shocked face. “If they succeed, they might be able to connect the two… perhaps with more tinkering, the one in Skyhold could be connected.”

Taa’lien’s amber eyes widened at such a revelation— to be but a passing portal away like the ancient Elves of Arlathan? To see his beloved whenever he pleased without planning weeks of travel? He could have Dorian and the Inquisition. It almost felt too good to be true.

“And when were you going to tell me this?” The Inquisitor could feel himself getting choked up again but for happier reasons.

“I wanted to wait to tell you until Morrigan was certain it could be done, but I can't bear the sight of you in such turmoil without me,” Dorian admitted. “Still think it’s a useless notion? I'd say the Keeper would be more than happy to wed us right now if we asked."

"Ma Vhenan," Taa'lien yanked the other man down by the collar of his shirt to kiss him. It was desperate and messy, but he couldn't help himself. "I love you, you scheming bastard— Wait! I need something too…"

“Mmm? Oh, right,” Dorian snapped out of his haze from the intense kiss, he reached up to his left ear, taking his other earring out. “I have something from you, so you can have this from me.” His kissed his cheek and placed it in his hand. “You know, I heard that the Hero of Fereldan and her Antivan lover had matching earrings of gold, I think it’s charming.”

Taa’lien examined the earring; gold, and inset with a vibrant mossy agate. “I love it,” he tightly clenched it in his hand for safekeeping. “When all of this is actually, finally over, maybe we can have a human-style wedding. I heard Tevinter weddings can last days.” he suggested, tilting his head. “And Via will be awfully upset with us for eloping without her to see.”

“Oh yes, like how she damn nearly eloped with Cullen at the Exalted Council? That does seem like her,” Dorian jabbed Taa’lien’s side. “Come on— or shall I carry you?”

“I’ll walk,” Taa’lien released his lover, walking alongside him to find his Keeper. “Besides… I don’t want you to exhaust yourself too soon.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow, confused by such an ominous statement. “What? Am I going to have to wrangle a halla for you too, or something? Climb a mountain?”

Taa’lien laughed, “No, Vhenan; it’s simply customary to consummate a bonding till the sun rises for good luck and blessings,” he lowered his voice with a cheeky smirk. “I know your stamina isn’t as good as mine, I’m just forewarning you.” He carried on walking ahead of the other man.

“Maker, give me strength…”

Well, at least it was nice to see Taa’lien smiling again.