A/N: The rating reflects explicit language and later sexual content. Content/trigger warning for mentions and descriptions of slavery (not involving main characters). Any Tevene has been mostly fudged from Latin, courtesy of Google Translate. Any Elvhen has been constructed and kind of fudged with much help from katiebour's Elvhen dictionary on AO3: /works/359253/chapters/582281

"The Lift Away"

ooo

Aeric stood on his balcony, staring out at the snowy mountains that surrounded Skyhold. He filled his lungs with the crisp air, trying to ease the coiling tension in his stomach. Closing his eyes, he took another deep breath.

Dorian was going to leave him.

It wasn't going to happen right away, Aeric knew. At least not until Corypheus had been defeated. And Dorian would likely linger a while before going home to Tevinter. At least, that was Aeric's hope. The mage was not forthcoming with his feelings most of the time, but Aeric could tell that Dorian at least cared a great deal about him.

All this, after giving up the Well of Sorrows because Dorian asked him not to drink. After giving the honor to a shemlen who thought herself more worthy to gain a wealth of elven history and culture than two elves. Who preached to both Aeric and Solas about what "correct" elven history entailed. The thought of Morrigan gaining the knowledge of the Well infuriated him.

But Dorian asked. And Aeric thought about the servants of Mythal in the temple, the ageless elves who had also pledged their eternal lives to the elven goddess. Would he be called to serve eternally as well? Aeric did not want an immortal life if it meant that Dorian would not be part of it.

"Aren't you freezing?"

Aeric opened his eyes, but he didn't have to turn around to know who was there. "It's not so cold when you wear clothes with two sleeves."

Dorian came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Aeric's waist. "It's called being fashionable. You might try it sometime." His fingers plucked at Aeric's shirt. "Instead of wearing these hideous beige pajamas."

"It's what they gave me to wear when I got here," Aeric said with a shrug. He drew Dorian's arms tighter around him.

Aeric couldn't see it, but he could hear the smile in Dorian's voice. "You can buy your own clothing, you know."

"If being fashionable means being cold, I'll keep the pajamas, thank you." Aeric looked over his shoulder at Dorian. "Did you finish your research, or did you take a break just to tease me?"

Dorian had been reading at Aeric's desk, poring over a few books on the Blight and the first darkspawn. He hesitated before answering. "I noticed you had been out here for a long time. Are you all right?"

Aeric looked back out at the mountains. "I just needed to think."

"About my leaving for Tevinter, I take it?"

"Yes."

Dorian sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. But I thought… You said you understood."

"I do understand," Aeric said. "And I want you to go, if that is what will make you happiest."

Dorian's arms tightened even further, pressing their bodies close together. "But you won't be happy," he said in a small voice.

"Not without you, ma'nehn."

Aeric found himself suddenly turned around, Dorian's lips crashing into his. After a few moments, they parted ever so slightly. Aeric could feel his lover's warm breath tickle his cheek. "I'm here now," Dorian murmured. "Come inside. We should make the most of the time we have."

Giving a nod of agreement, Aeric followed Dorian through the doors, shutting the cold out behind him.

ooo

The longer Dorian put off leaving, the harder it became.

Corypheus was dead, and Aeric miraculously came out of it alive. Honestly, if Dorian had not been there alongside the elf almost every step of the way, he would never have believed a quarter of the things Aeric had faced and survived. The pride Dorian felt for him was limitless.

In the months since then, he and Aeric had fallen into an almost easy routine, closing the remaining rifts across the countryside and assisting with the rebuilding efforts after the respective wars in Ferelden and Orlais. When at Skyhold, they spent their days reading together in the library, people-watching in the courtyard, playing Wicked Grace with those of their companions who stayed with the Inquisition: Cullen, Iron Bull, and Josephine. Blackwall, Cassandra, Sera, and Cole. Varric, before he returned to Kirkwall.

Yet as the months wore on, Dorian began to realize that there was no longer any need for him there. Not with the Inquisition, at any rate. Their fledgling organization was a major world power now, and all that remained was the maintenance of order.

All that remained for him now was Aeric.

Dorian sat up in bed one night, some six months after the defeat of Corypheus. He tried to read, but the thought of returning to Tevinter weighed heavily on his mind. His homeland needed him now. He needed to strike while the iron was hot, so to speak, while the treachery of Corypheus and the Venatori were still fresh in every Tevinter's mind. They would be much more open to change when the evidence of corruption within their society was plain to see. A thrill went through Dorian's spine as he imagined what might be possible for his country, given time. It would be slow-going at first, especially without the Inquisition's resources, but the potential for change was limitless.

Yet as he watched Aeric sleep peacefully beside him, his face somehow managing to look sour even in slumber, Dorian's resolve wavered. What would become of them if he left? A small knot of panic formed in Dorian's chest at the thought. Overcome, he bent to kiss Aeric, on the scar a Tevinter slaver had left him as a child.

Dorian had to go. To fix Tevinter, so that what happened to Aeric would not happen to anyone else.

Aeric stirred. "Dorian?" he said, his speech slurred with sleep.

Dorian took a steadying breath. "I'm sorry, amatus. I did not mean to wake you."

The elf turned over in the bed to look at him. "Still reading?" He glanced over to the burnt out candle and frowned. "Not reading. Is something the matter?"

"I don't know," Dorian replied honestly. "Thinking. You know how dangerous that is."

Aeric rubbed at his eyes and sat up. "Thinking about what?"

There was a moment's hesitation before Dorian answered. "I… I've decided to go back to Tevinter. Soon."

"Oh."

"I fear that if I don't go soon, I never will," Dorian went on with a sigh. "As much as I want to remain at your side, the Inquisition doesn't need me anymore. Tevinter does."

He expected Aeric to say something, to tell Dorian that of course the Inquisition needed him. Or that even if the Inquisition didn't, Aeric needed him. Instead, the elf was silent, staring down at his hands clenching the blankets.

Part of Dorian wanted Aeric to plead for him to stay.

"Two weeks, I think," Dorian continued after a time. "That should be long enough to get my affairs in order, and arrange passage to Minrathous."

"Will you need anything?" Aeric's voice was flat, emotionless.

"Provisions and some coin, if you can spare it," Dorian replied.

Aeric nodded, but said nothing.

It was unnerving, this lack of anything. "I'm sorry." Dorian did not know what else to say. He watched Aeric for a few moments, but the elf barely moved. "You're not going to say anything?"

"I often don't say much," Aeric said in the same toneless voice. "Taciturn, you called me."

"Yes, but at least you grunt at me from time to time," Dorian replied, trying to get him to smile. It didn't work. Dorian reached a hand out and touched one of Aeric's. "Amatus…"

Aeric looked up at Dorian, but his expression was empty. "I knew this was coming, Dorian. I wanted you to go."

"And now?"

Aeric closed his eyes, the stillness in his face breaking, falling into sadness. It was so much worse than the nothingness from a moment ago. Dorian tightened his grip on Aeric's hand. "It's something you need to do," the elf said. "I haven't forgotten that. If it's important to you, it's important to me." He opened his eyes again. "I could beg you to stay. But if I keep you from doing what you need to do, you would resent me. Perhaps not right away, but someday. I don't want that. I could never do that to you, ma'nehn." He sighed. "Are you sure I can't go with you?"

Dorian shook his head. "The Inquisition still needs you. You're the only one who can close the rifts. There are fewer of them now, it's true. But there are still many to which you need to attend."

Aeric nodded, not saying anything.

They sat in heavy silence for a while. Dorian usually didn't mind silences between them, but this one was uncomfortable, almost to the point of being painful. "Please say something, Aeric," he said when he could stand it no longer.

Aeric looked up at him, his lapis-colored eyes faintly glowing in the dark in the way elven eyes did. "So what happens to us?"

Though Dorian knew that they would have to talk about what his leaving meant for the relationship, this was the conversation he had been dreading the most. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "I can't ask you to-"

"I will wait for you," Aeric interrupted, his face suddenly fierce in the moonlight.

"Amatus, no." Dorian's voice shook from the wrenching in his chest. "Who knows how long I'll be gone. I cannot ask that of you."

The gaze Aeric directed at him was hard, like blue-tempered steel. "Do you want to end it between us?"

"Wait, what?" No, no, that is the last thing that I want. "Of course not. You're important to me, Aeric. But if you should find someone…" The words were painful to get out.

Aeric shook his head. "There is no one for me but you. I will wait. However long it takes." His face softened, but was still full of determination. Stubbornness, more like.

Unable to speak, Dorian closed the space between them, kissing him with as much emotion as he could muster. That emotion he could not name. "You damned idiot," he whispered hoarsely when they parted. "I just want you to be happy."

"I already have my happiness, ma'nehn," Aeric replied softly. "I'll not have any other, even if it feels like sadness for a time."

Dorian gave a small smile. "You say such marvelous things for someone who speaks so little."

Aeric replied only with a small smile of his own. Instead, he shifted closer, and Dorian wrapped his arms around him. They sat together like this, Dorian holding him, memorizing his scent, like evergreen trees in winter.

"What about you?" the elf asked in a quiet voice after a few moments.

Dorian kissed his hair, unable to imagine wanting anything else but this, anyone else but him. "I think we both know that you've ruined me for other men, amatus. No one could possibly compare to you."

Aeric looked up at him. "No other archdemon killers in Tevinter?" he said, his eyes twinkling.

"Not a one," Dorian answered with a chuckle. "And the only other archdemon killer in the world is a woman, so no need to worry there."

"I'm relieved."

"I thought you might be."

Dorian pressed another kiss to the top of Aeric's head and held him tight against him. A comfortable silence fell over them until they both began slumping where they sat. Without a word, the two of them slid down the bed until they found themselves in each other's arms again and fell asleep.

ooo

Aeric woke one morning, a week before Dorian was set to leave, to find that he was alone in bed. It wasn't unusual for Dorian to wake first; he liked to take his time in the bath and care for his hair and mustache. Yet instead of being greeted with the sound of gentle splashes of water, Aeric could hear the scrape of something across paper. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up and glanced toward his desk.

Sitting in Aeric's desk chair, Dorian was watching him with an appraising eye. "Hold still. I've almost got it."

"Almost got what?" Aeric asked with a yawn, though he didn't move otherwise.

Dorian held a stick of graphite in his hand and ran it over the paper in considered strokes. "The exquisite line of your inner thigh, as it turns out."

"You're… drawing me?" The elf looked around. There were crumpled pieces of paper strewn all over the floor, with what looked to be half-drawn figures sketched on each of them. A long mirror lay on its side on the floor, propped up against the side of the couch.

"Any mage worth his salt in Tevinter is at least a decent artist," Dorian said, glancing up at him every so often before making a few more lines. "Usually meant for drawing runes and instructional diagrams, but it has its other uses. The arts are ever so impressive when trying to outmatch your competitors amongst the nobility." His voice took on a mocking tone. "'My son is a painter and is a virtuoso with three different instruments, all while excelling at his magical studies. And what has your little Magnus done lately?' That sort of thing. Father made certain my education wanted for nothing."

"Fine, but what I meant was why?" Aeric picked up a balled up paper that had fallen close to the bed. There had to have been over a dozen of them on the floor. "And how long have you been awake?"

"A few hours. I… I couldn't sleep." Dorian bent over his drawing again. "Almost done."

Aeric frowned, but continued to stay still. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

"Thinking again," he said evasively. "An active mind is such a burden."

Dorian continued drawing for a few minutes as Aeric waited patiently on the bed. "And… finished!" Dorian announced at last. "Care to take a look?"

Curious, Aeric got up from the bed and crossed the room to the desk. He looked over Dorian's shoulder at the drawing. And burst out laughing.

The Aeric in the drawing lay on his side on the bed with a seductive look in his eyes, his lips in a crooked smile. He was also completely naked.

"I wasn't sleeping naked, ma'nehn," Aeric pointed out, still chuckling. "What did you use for reference?"

"Please," Dorian said with a withering glance. "You don't think I know what you look like without your smallclothes by now? I am nothing if not an excellent observer."

Aeric cocked his head to one side, looking at the picture. "It is rather accurate."

Dorian grinned. "I certainly thought so."

"So, why are you drawing me naked?"

"It's for me, naturally," Dorian replied, still smiling, mischief in his eyes. "Inspiration for all those lonely nights ahead." He opened a drawer and pulled out another sheet of paper. "Here, I made one for you as well."

Aeric took the paper and flipped it over. Warmth rushed to his cheeks and ears. And lower. Dorian's picture was accurate as well. "Is that what the sideways mirror was for?" he asked with a grin.

"Yes, that's right." Dorian laughed. "Apparently I know yours better than I know my own."

Shoulders shaking with laughter, Aeric bent and kissed him on the cheek. "It was very considerate of you. Thank you."

"Of course."

As Aeric set the drawing down on the desk, he noticed that there were others that the mage had set aside. He picked them up. "May I?"

Dorian nodded, the smile falling from his face.

Aeric flipped through the sketches. Each depicted his face in various states: sleeping, smiling, glaring. Each drawn in careful detail. "They're wonderful," he said in a soft voice.

"I don't think I have your smile quite right," Dorian said, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "Figures. It's the most important one."

"Ma'nehn." Aeric set the drawings down on the desk and knelt beside the chair. "What are they for? Why couldn't you sleep?"

Dorian sighed. "I don't know, really. Paranoia, maybe?" He reached out and touched Aeric's face, his thumb tracing the vallaslin. "While I was lying in bed, I couldn't stop thinking that you'd get yourself caught up in something dangerous again while I'm gone. Demons or dragons or what have you. You face that kind of thing every day, even without the terrible luck you seem to have. You so much as sneeze, and you somehow manage to draw an archdemon and an army of darkspawn upon you."

Aeric would have laughed had it not been so true.

"And as the Inquisitor, you're one of the most powerful people in Thedas," Dorian continued. "I wouldn't be surprised if someone sent an assassin after you. I'm a little shocked no one's sent one already."

"You're afraid I'll die while you're away," Aeric said, placing a hand on the mage's arm to reassure him.

"You can't deny that it's a possibility." Dorian's eyes found his, gazing at him as if searching for something. "You're very good at what you do, amatus. But even you make mistakes sometimes. When I leave, it may be the last time I will ever…" He stopped himself, swallowing. He turned his head to look at the pictures. "If that happens… I didn't want to forget."

Aeric pulled Dorian into a tight embrace, wanting to tell him that it would be all right, that his fears were unfounded, but he wasn't sure that it was the truth.

As if reading his mind, Dorian murmured into his ear. "Promise me you won't die."

Aeric gave a little shake of his head. "I can't. I won't lie to you, ma'nehn."

Dorian buried his face in the hollow of Aeric's neck. "You can lie to me this once. Please."

It won't be a lie, Aeric swore to himself. I cannot break this vow.

"I promise."