Title: Vitae Benefaria - A Respectful Goodbye
Author:
Rating: M (For all content in the story.)
Disclaimer: BioWare owns the entire Dragon Age saga, its characters, its worlds, and all related concepts- I own none.
Summary: A token turns awry when Inquisitor Lavellan is lost in the Eluvian gifted to him, and Dorian must traverse the worlds in between our own to bring him back to safety. Trusts are broken, actions desperate, and everything is never as it seems.
Chapter One
Perspective was such a fickle thing. It twisted like a kaleidoscope depending on what angle it was viewed in and perceived, it knotted memories far out of reach or events completely incomprehensible; so one might imagine the hardship of one man against a thousand years of relative peace built upon the bones of slaves and millennia of wealthy getting into what they most certainly shouldn't have.
A weary brow knit between calloused fingers as the Scion of House Pavus remained in the company of yet another Magister who refused the very thought of progress to protect his eternal content; golden eyes not daring to inch towards the oaf across from himself as a cool breath calmed the fire of Dorian's lacking patience ever slightly, the mage recounting his luck that his genetics gave him the good graces of appearing less than snappy by default.
"Yes; I understand your point, but I don't condone such… thoughts." The weighted Magister replied between bites of roast duck and gulps of wine, Dorian reluctantly but politely participating in the activity of feasting to not allow his host to dine alone with a few dozen hungry slave eyes peeping at him from every corner of the elegant hall their meeting was dragging by in.
"Though while you are happy to sit upon a throne of our past, might I remind you that to become an even better nation and show the world of our progress, it is we who must be progressive and push for our wants. Ser I implore you, be among those who challenged the trifles we faced so that we might be mightier- that you might blazen our history with action."
Dorian finally tore his gaze away from those of the haunted slaves running around the nearly empty hall and kept a professional yet passionate air as he looked upon the contemplative mage gorging himself of breads of the best kind, summer wine gracing the Altus's drawn lips as he used the golden chalice to cover his complete distaste of his company.
While he promoted fun; it was needless to say that half of those portions if not more could have fed the wilting staff of this manner with little problem. Perhaps to much time in Skyhold had both blessed him and burdened him to gain an eye for those sorts of details.
"As I said, Ser Pavus; I am excited by your passion and your drive to push our Imperium to greatness, but look at the glory it already has. Do you not count our previous success?"
Dorian nearly spilled his wine before catching his own trembling hand it its act, the Scion placing his chalice upon the table with a harsher force than intended before turning an intense and fiery expression towards his host that made the other man visibly uncomfortable, the sight of a bead of sweat slowly descending the man's jaw glistening in the sunlight of the stained glass windows starkly unmissable.
"Forgive my forward behavior my Lord, but the whole world sees us as the enemy. For all of my distaste for Par Vollen, even they seem a beauty compared to we who bore the wretched Corypheus; who nearly stole our world from us. I was there, I've learned more than I want to- and I want to assure Thedas we are indeed not the enemy, but a useful ally and leadership. Even this you must see reason?"
The silence in the room was palpable as the Magister across from Dorian nervously considered his options; the Scion holding no doubts that all decisions this evening were to be made to protect the man's own hide and no one else's, an uncomfortable shift and gesture towards the servants catching a vibrant eye before Dorian realized he had overextended his welcome, tanned hands snatching up an emerald shaded jacket that shielded him from Tevinter's rare monsoon season before dawning it quickly, his staff already in hand before removing himself from a jeweled seat.
"It has been a pleasure, Magister Tebrin."
No words followed as Dorian travelled the seemingly barren halls in a furious repression; a thousand thoughts phasing through a million attempts to convince his Tevinter brothers of their duty to their country and the war balancing on their doorstep, but only a frustrated sigh escaped past a clenched jaw, locks of warm brown hair falling slightly over his gaze before he reached to tie it back again, not having realized how loose the ribbon had become.
The greeting of the Imperium's streets was nothing less that familiar as the scent of incense assaulted his nostrils to cover for the underlying rank sewages that ran along the streets, men and women alike dressed to their very skin in riches that blended in with the architecture from ages old, the statue of an ancient dragon settling a certain discomfort in Dorian's chest as the acrid smell of dragon's fire shimmered to life on his palette, a brief shake of the head dislodging the memory for a later time as he made his way past slave and citizen, the destination of his home a mere quarter mile from where his regretful meeting had been held.
Entering those doors was never easier than it had been the first time he had arrived back at the home of his father, a precautious paranoia whispering in his ear that nearly always held him in a defensive mindset (lest he be in a predicament that sent him running away previously) a weary gaze searching the room before closing the heavy doors behind himself and flashing a warm smile towards the small elven slave who took his coat, a small chuckle rising when he noticed that very coat could have swallowed her whole if she held it wrong. Dorian reached down to take it from her lanky form and carry it to his quarters, the already large emerald orbs of the servant widening in shock before she bowed her head in apology, Dorian gaining a perplexed look as he simply shook his head to dismiss her inability to carry his heavy coat.
"Think nothing of it. If anything, you could take this note to my father and tell him to read it at his own leisure."
Excited to have a new task, lithe fingers grabbed the envelope as if it carried gold before the young woman scampered off with a soft smile, a small spark of guilt settling over himself seeing how depraved the servants here seemed to have become in his absence.
The stairwell held a familiarity that Dorian wasn't sure if he cherished or resented as he ascended to his room casually, the warmth of the country's season seeping into weary bones as steps resounded off of walls to create a kind of ominous chorus to play back at him, the Scion swallowing down his suspicions as he finally opened and slammed the bedroom door behind himself a tad desperately, a thankful sigh allowing his shoulders to ease from their previous strain when Dorian realized just how brilliantly alone he was.
He loathed this place- it made his skin crawl to be at the behest of his father again, be under his roof and entertaining his rules- but Halward had seen a drastic improvement since his encounter in Redcliffe, and what little solace it offered Dorian was quickly swept away by the status of his room upon his return, by the unchanged sofas or decor. His father had nearly always been impossibly indecisive about what the estate was to bear in terms of presentation; but it seemed now that dust was collecting on old chairs that hadn't seen company in years, or paintings that were covered from canvas to frame in spiderwebs both ancient and recent. It all felt painfully lonely- and while Dorian believed wholeheartedly Halward deserved what he received, the obvious neglect to the home was something that turned his stomach in knots.
It had been his home, after all.
The sudden remembrance of the the small pile of letters on the Scion's desk from his beloved all the way in Skyhold brought him far out of his current displeasure and into a softened silence, a tanned expression warmed as he began sifting through each that had been opened and reread several times already, some of the ink worn or the pages tattered. He felt like a young romantic, but among those letters held a strength Dorian wished he could find in himself and bring to his peers, yet another part of his mind wanted to seclude that love; to keep it desperately for himself when there seemed none in a country filled to the brim with potential.
Opening the most recent and unopened envelope from Owle brought a subtle tingle across the Altus's skin as the scent of elfroot and earth graced his senses, a flutter of happiness drawing a smile that tugged at the edges of his mustache to make it curl slightly and crinkle the edges of his tired gaze. Dorian nearly ripped the letter with how careful he had been trying to maintain its structure, a knit of the brow replacing his previously resting expression as the Scion kept more concentration of the task before the sealing finally gave way, a small promise to lecture Lavellan on his absurd parchment closing adding itself to the list of their next visit.
The handwriting upon inspection was not familiar however when Dorian's curious gaze scanned the rushed scribbles littered on the singular document, a chill of fear running down the Tevinter's spine when a shocked hand by instinct raised to cover quivering lips and silence any emotions that might lurch from him like a lightning strike.
Dear Dorian,
I regret to inform you that Owle has been missing from Skyhold for the last five days, and the last place my agents saw the Inquisitor depart was the Eluvian you gifted him two years ago before our forces dispersed. Due to the extreme circumstance, you are requested for questioning for any information leading to the location of our leader. If you put off this invitation, know that your actions will be held in suspicion.
Sincerely,
Nightingale Leliana of the Inquisition
A million words and a small settling of rage nearly made Dorian choke on his own retaliations before a quaking fist crunched the letter in his palm unevenly, the tight sensation in the Scion's throat painful as he felt the immediate rush of confusion and panic temporarily demolish his logic into nothing, his form now rushing around the room to gather everything one might need for an unexpected vacation into a void hardly anyone knew about or emerged from, the familiar dread of tears stinging at intense eyes as papers fluttered around his quarters and books lay face down in shame upon the floorboards.
His room was steadily starting to resemble the winds of a summer storm as Dorian desperately raided his room for materials, salves, weaponry and anything that might save someone's life- the thought stalling the Altus a moment before he resigned himself to slump in his desk chair in disbelief, bitter tears finally shattering past wavering pride as a breathy sob escaped drawn lips, what little capacity to handle his homeland crashing away as the final burden struck him harshly and without mercy.
He was gone? For how long?
Forcing himself to move past his own problems, Dorian dawned what armor he still had in a desperate silence as the rest of the world seemed frozen in place, shaking fingers securing belts and fastening leathers before a glance towards the unscathed Eluvian told him of how awful he must have appeared, a disheveled visage gazing back at man dressed to his bones in protection, Tevinter fashion, and a haunted gaze.
And they think I'm responsible.
With a swift motion, the staff previously resting against the brick wall was hoisted into grip and the hand free of material quickly smudged what little tears he had allowed to escape before placing it upon the Eluvian's sheen surface, the glass churning into aura against his touch while a ghostly green illuminated against warm skin; and one step led him about halfway through the beginning, and another secured his fate as a way out sputtered closed behind the Scion's form with a hiss.
"Amatus!"
The call was swallowed whole by the void's terrifying silence- and for once in his lifetime Dorian felt all importance in himself strip away until he was simply a speck against a blanket of veilfire.