Dorian sighed, leaning back into his chair and rolling his mustache. The throbbing headache persisted on, dragging out yet another tired sigh from him.
But a quiet rustle from the corner of the room drew his attention, distracting him. He turned his head, his eyes settling on the elven servant who had dropped a dusting cloth.
"Forgive me!" The man cried, falling to his knees. "Master, please…" He sobbed.
Dorian sighed again, waving for the man to stop. His former slaves still hadn't adjusted to the fact that they weren't slaves anymore. So much needed to be changed.
"It's fine. Ether, was it?"
The elf nodded fearfully.
"Do pick yourself off the floor, Ether. Go get some rest."
The elf almost bolted from his room, making Dorian sigh again.
It has been a few months since he's left the rustic South to return to Tevinter – for good this time. Dorian had worked hard since taking over as the new head of House Pavus – the title of Magister thrown over him like an ill-fitting garment that chaffs uncomfortably.
But despite the nightly late hours, of countless meetings with other magisters, and numerous attempts on his life he didn't feel like he's made much headway.
When he'd left his amatus' side, Dorian had confidently announced that he would change Tevinter for the better. But he still couldn't even change his own servants' perception of him yet.
His hand ghosted over the sending crystal that hung over his throat, thumbing the warm stone absentmindedly. Should he activate the sending crystal? He didn't want to rely on his amatus too much – that man had enough to deal with at the moment without him adding to his problems.
He dropped his hand from the crystal, staring wistfully out the window. What he wouldn't do to be able to touch his amatus right now – to feel his soft lips against his. To run his fingers over his smooth, naked skin, to make him shiver with pleasure.
Succumbing to his loneliness and longing for companionship, Dorian thumbed at his crystal once more before activating it. The sending crystal glowed, lighting up the room slightly as it thrummed with power.
All at once, the voices floated out from the crystal and Dorian realized his amatus was talking to someone. A meeting then, he sighed, moving to deactivate the crystal before he interrupted his amatus.
But his fingers twitched to a stop before he could touch the warm stone again, when a decidedly salacious tone caught his attention.
"How could I possibly refuse a Lavanor, no matter how perilous it may be? A man named after my own heart,"
The unknown man's voice chuckled, low and incredibly suggestive. Dorian bolted upright, his full attention focused on the glowing crystal.
"Truly?"
"It is such an intriguing offer, has so much potential," the velvety voice continued, unhurried and sure. "I will thoroughly enjoy this new… experience, shall we say?"
Dorian clapped a hand over his mouth, stopping a pained groan from twisting its way past his lips. He waited a beat to hear his amatus' response, to hear the final words to confirm this unimagined betrayal.
"Thank you." There came the dreaded words, the smile hidden in that voice he's heard so often before now ripping his heart to pieces. "I truly appreciate this."
"Anything for you, Lavanor, anything for you. So, will you be telling your lover of this thing?" The quiet murmur floated out from the crystal, each word pulling at angry tears.
"No, let's keep it between the two of us if you don't mind? Dorian doesn't need to know."
Dorian pulled at the sending crystal, tearing it off his neck and slamming it down on his desk with a howl. The light blinked out, but the low pleased chuckle remained with him in this deep night.
Zevran poked at the warm crystal, tapping and patting the strange stone. It was small, quite hard to the touch – and still warm from the body heat of one Lavanor Lavellan who was now sleeping soundly on the couch.
It was easy enough to lift the crystal from the man – despite training as an assassin, the other elf knew nothing of the life of cutthroats, purse-snatchers, and whores. And a few more sips of the spiked ale, and the elf was dead to the world.
Not that Zevran was planning on doing anything – the job came through Leliana. How could he possibly turn down a favor for that lovely woman? He would always have her back, as she would have his. Plus, strangely enough this 'Herald' had the same name as his own lover, Lavanor Tabris.
Coincidence, the man had laughed when Zevran brought up the point. A very curious coincidence, but coincidence nonetheless. A job for a man with a name after his own heart, his love; a job to protect the man a Lavanor loved. Now how could Zevran turn down a job like that, even if it was in Tevinter?
But he didn't survive this long on blind trust and luck – Zevran wanted to know everything there was to know. So now Lavanor snored away, while Zevran poked around in his small house. There wasn't anything interesting – except for this crystal.
The crystal that hung by the man's throat had glowed for a moment around the end of their conversation though Lavanor didn't notice, and Zevran could swear he'd heard a strange noise coming out of the stone. Whatever this was, Zevran wanted to know more about it.
He tapped it again, then rolled it around on the table and sighed. He had no idea how he could make the thing glow. He picked it up once more to peer at it closely, and noticed a light smudge of dust on the surface. He thumbed at it, flicking the dust off absentmindedly.
Instantly the crystal started to glow, thrumming and lighting up in his palm.
"Oh-hoho," Zevran chuckled, pleased with himself. "Now what could this possibly be for?"
Dorian trembled, his limbs shaking and tears falling shamefully down his cheeks.
It had been months since Dorian left the South, since leaving his amatus alone amongst countless others. Countless people that constantly vied for the attention of 'Herald of Andraste'. Countless others who practically threw themselves at the 'Herald'.
It was only a matter of time before there was one that would have caught his amatus' eyes. When hundreds of miles separated them, could he truly fault him for wanting a comforting touch? For that warmth, for caressing embrace? It was him that left his amatus, him that chose Tevinter over his love.
Dorian bit down on his lips, tears rolling silently down, wetting his collar.
It was his fault – how could he not have foreseen this?
The pleased chuckle of the velveteen voice echoed in his mind, and Dorian pressed his hands to his head wishing he could scream out the pain, to drown out that sensual voice.
But the chuckles faded into quiet hums, startling Dorian. Hums? Why would his head conjure up hums?
Dorian's eyes fell to the sending crystal on his desk, which was glowing once again with the hums buzzing out. The man had activated the crystal. Whoever it was that tempted his amatus now held the sending crystal meant for his love.
Fierce rage engulfed the mage, and he snatched up and snarled at the unknown man before his brain could stop him.
"How dare you!" He spat, gripping the crystal tight enough for his knuckles to whiten.
The quiet hums abruptly stopped and a brief period of silence followed before that damnable chuckle floated out once more.
"So that's how this works," The velvet voice mused, enraging him further.
"Did you enjoy taking him away from me while I'm gone? Did you enjoy servicing him, you miserable wretch?"
The voice grew quiet, before chuckling again.
"Would this be the famed Dorian, who fancies Lavanor?"
"I do more than fancy him," Dorian glowered.
"Well, I fancy many things – things that are beautiful and things that are strong. I fancy things that are dangerous and exciting. Lavanor is all of those things, no?"
"I… yes-"
"Could you truly blame me? Have you seen the way that man looks?" The low chuckle continued, irrefutably alluring. "And you left him alone here to be gobbled up by the next street urchin, no?"
Words failed Dorian for once in his life – when he needed them so direly.
"Is it so wrong for this poor man to seek out comfort once in a while, when his lover's so coldly left him behind for a country that enslaves his kind?" The soft voice mocked him, shaming him.
"But, such is life. It is seldom full of contentment, no?" The voice perked up, perversely cheerful.
"You thought, 'ah Dorian, he will come to you and be reunited after a job well done!' no? Well, you are a fool, but a lucky fool at that." The man laughed, before continuing.
"A lucky fool?" He spat, unable to think of any smart retorts.
"Lucky, yes. Because I am Zevran Arainai who hails from the glorious Antivan City, home to the royal palace. I do believe you've heard of me before, yes?"
Dorian gaped at the crystal held in his hand. Zevran? The Zevran of Warden Lavanor Tabris?
"I shall take that as a yes. You see, I do fancy a Lavanor – just not your Lavanor." Zevran chuckled amusedly.
"Lucky fool, yes? Do not worry, your Lavanor stays tenaciously faithful to a certain magister of Tevinter Imperium and is quite concerned about the safety of said magister. Enough to hire a certain very good looking assassin to track down the people trying to kill him."
Dorian opened his mouth and closed again, before opening it again. But no sound came.
"I shall be seeing you in a couple weeks' time, yes? I do look forward to meeting you – one hears about the rumors of impeccable fashion sense and handsome faces all the Lavanors' lovers have."
The man's voice wafted about in a pleasant laughter before the sending crystal blinked out. Dorian stared dumfounded at the stone sitting on his palm for a moment, before dropping it.
His amatus had hired an assassin, the assassin. For him. Well, not in that sense.
He slumped into his chair, a disbelieving laugh escaping his lips. Dorian was going to strangle this Zevran when he came here. He was going to kill this elf for putting him through this whirlwind of emotions tonight. He was… he was… he was so relieved, another half-sob and half-laugh escaping him.
His amatus stayed true for him, who was foolish enough to leave him behind.
His amatus had cared enough to hire Zevran, of all people. Dorian swept a hand over his head, rubbing and laughing.
When his amatus came, he wouldn't make such a mistake ever again. He would stay with his amatus, no matter what the future held.