Ten years ago when he had finally been given his life's work, Arvaarad had vowed to himself and to the Qun that he would be the perfect example of a Qunari. He would have back evil. He would protect. He could not fail…And now ten years later as he sat in his tent, stroking the white hair of his beloved, he knew he had failed himself.
To be arvaarad was to hold the leash of the saarebas- the mage. It was not so uncommon for arvaarad to choose favorites among his karataam. Sometimes this favoritism was little more than deep care and sometimes it was deeply sexual. The Qunari respected he saarebas as much as they feared them. To constantly battle oneself in an effort to please the Qun was to be respected. The arvaarad understood more than any other that the saarebas were people too; people with hopes and fears and love in their hearts. Duty, however, was duty and that care could not be allowed to fester into something that would put those duties at risk.
Arvaraad had failed himself. He had failed the Qun. He knew his best course of action was to turn himself in to the Ben-Hassrath to be re-educated. He loved the Qun. The Qun gave him purpose and life, but he loved Saarebas.
He felt suddenly a pair of red eyes on him and looked down with some curiosity. Saarebas, when the heavy mask and shackles were removed, was a lovely specimen although Arvaraad had not once met an unattractive Qunari before. He suspected the Tamassrans had something to do with that. Fine cheekbones and a small, aquiline nose paired with overly long lashes gave him an almost feminine appearance. Carefully braided hair and what Arvaarad were sure were plucked brows completed the image. When asked about his appearance Saarebas would only smile and shrug. Few ever saw the saarebas without their masks, but Arvaraad had seen all of the mages primp and preen at some point. Even the eldest of his karataam, a female with a permanently nasty look on her face and even worse attitude, was known to get annoyed when she couldn't bathe with regularity.
Shaking himself from the brief aside he smiled some. "Yes?" He knew there would be no answer. His beloved had long ago been rendered mute. His tongue had been cut out by his previous arvaraad. That sad fact had been what had brought the two men together. All of Arvaraad's karataam were missing their tongues. Considered a dangerous group, it was best if they were all leashed together…A logic Arvaraad still did not quite understand.
Saarebas returned the smile and shifted to bump Arvaraad's stomach with his forehead. The mage had had his horns sawed off as a child when his magic first showed. To outsiders it may have made him look a bit silly compared to his horned bretheren, but to the Qunari it was a warning. Mages were dangerous and were to be avoided. When he got no response Saarebas bumped Arvaraad again. When that didn't work he sat up, putting on a silly face as if he was offended. Despite the fact that he would live life as a prisoner in his own body for the rest of his life, Saarebas tried to keep a happy face. Arvaarad sometimes wondered if it was real joy or perhaps madness. Maybe both.
Arvaraad couldn't help but truly smile at the antics of the mage. He reached forward and pulled the slighter man to his chest and kissed him firmly. "I adore you." He whispered, barely pulling their lips away. His hand moved up along Saarebas' back and gently pulled his braid apart. "And I swear on my life that I will free you. We will be together." The sentiment earned a much sadder smile from the made. "One day.