Author's Note: This pretty little thing (which I don't own, incidentally…it belongs to Shira-chan) ( art/Just-a-Little-While-Longer-DA-I-Dorian-Inquisitor-505506895) is the whole inspiration for this fic.
A shout out and thank you to author JayRain for her lovely, encouraging reviews (go read her stuff! She does a great Dorian/Trevelyan pair-up, among other things) and to MikaHimura for the follow.
Warnings: Obviously, Dorian and M!Lavellan, so implied male on male intimacy. Mild swearing.
Translations:
Hamin: Rest, relax
Ma Vhenan: my heart
amatus: beloved
hahren: Elder. Used as a term of respect.
vir'abelasan: the place of the way of sorrows. Refers to the Well of Sorrows, and if you don't know what I'm talking about you should probably not be reading this right now. I guess that's my way of saying SPOILER ALERT.
Just a Little While Longer
The beast stalked the throne room slowly, carefully, searching for his prey. His shaggy fur was thick down his back, his claws and fangs long and yellowed with age. Suddenly, he heard breathing…it was nearby, high and fast…he padded toward it on silent feet…
"Ahh!" Liliane Tethras went running out from behind the throne, Anafiel roaring fearsomely as he pounced and caught her up in his arms. The other children- Lili's brother Anthony, Dagna's boy Lyr, and Grey's little sister Celeste- broke from their hiding places and ran to her 'aid'. Soon, they were all on the floor of Skyhold's great hall- the Herald of Andraste barefoot and covered in an old bear's skin- in a giggling pile of limbs. Dorian had walked in with Josephine on his arm and a gaggle of dignitaries behind him but not one of the 'hunters' noticed. They were too busy trying to avoid Anafiel, who was a well-known and deadly tickler.
"I believe our dear Inquisitor is the biggest child present…" Dorian commented with a chuckle. Anafiel did hear then, and he looked up with a smile. Lili had her arms around his neck but she looked up indignantly at Dorian's words.
"Is not 'Inquizzy'…is bear. Uncle Bear." She amended quickly.
"So he is, dear heart."
"My lord Inquisitor!" The doors burst open and one of Leliana's scouts rushed toward them. Anafiel took one look at the man's face and handed Liliane off to Josephine before pushing the bear's skin off his head. Josephine quietly herded the children and the visitors out toward the gardens.
"Report, Weaver."
"You should see this sir…"
.:*:.
"A fade rift? After twenty years?" Dorian was pacing, his long fingers tapping his leg irritably as Anafiel watched him from the bed. He himself was still as a statue; only his eyes moved as they followed his lover's movements. "It's all terribly convenient, isn't it? A fade rift appears on the night we begin discussions to choose the new Inquisitor? The one thing appears that you cannot delegate to anyone else?"
"You think someone is trying to take my voice out of the choosing?"
"I know it! The only question is who…" Dorian ran his hand through his hair with a huff. "Who would have the better chance if your voice wasn't heard? I certainly wouldn't put it past Morrigan…"
"I trust every single person in this hold." Anafiel emphasized quietly. "Kieran is a good man, and a good mage. His mother should rightly be proud of him."
"That may be…but…"
"It's poor timing I'll admit, but we'll just have to postpone the choosing."
"Postpone…"
"Yes. Until after the rift has been closed. I am still Inquisitor- I can do things like that."
"Anafiel…"
"Dorian. Vhenan. We've been talking about it all day. I have heard every side of this story, believe me, and I personally do not want to waste the last night I have in a proper bed for what will probably be weeks arguing. I can think of a hundred better things for those marvelous lips to be doing."
"I'll go with you. There must be wards to set, dispels to cast…something I can do."
Anafiel caught Dorian's wrist, tugged him closer. "The only thing you will be doing, Master Pavus…" He said, his voice a husky growl. "…is me. Right now."
Even after all these years, Dorian couldn't resist that masterful tone. But long after they were done and Anafiel was sleeping peacefully beside him, Dorian found that he did not have the same luxury. His mind kept whirling; he knew the rift was no coincidence, and if it wasn't, then logically it was a trap for Anafiel. But why? Who? And why now?
"Dorian my love," Anafiel cracked one bleary eye open as Dorian shifted yet again, trying to find a comfortable spot. "If you don't settle in, I'm afraid I'm going to have to smother you with a pillow."
"Sorry, amatus."
In reply, Anafiel turned and pulled him close, his chest pressed firmly to Dorian's back. The Anchor smoldered with a viridian glow as he laced their fingers together, the other hand skimming lightly against Dorian's tangled hair. "Hamin, ma vhenan. Rest."
There it was again- that masterful, yet gentle, tone that Dorian always loved. It was the voice he had fallen in love with, the confidence and strength that could control men and mages alike, dissolve ancient rivalries and make monarchs bow… that voice that could make you think that you were the only person that mattered. He let himself relax into Anafiel's warmth and finally slept.
.:*:.
Despite the early hour of their departure, Dorian was still standing above the gate in his usual spot when Anafiel, along with Carver, Grey, Haven and Kieran, rode from Skyhold the next morning. Anafiel turned in the saddle to wave, relieved when Dorian waved back. He wished that they hadn't had to start the morning with another fight-it seemed like a bad omen. At least Dorian wouldn't be alone in his anger; Cassandra was not well pleased that Anafiel was taking Haven along so soon after she had gotten home.
The girl herself didn't seem to mind. She was practically bouncing in the saddle with excitement. "I'm so glad you brought me along, Uncle." All the children called Anafiel 'uncle' when no one was around. "Ranging with the famed Inquisitor, facing demons and fade rifts…it's like living one of father's stories!"
"You will write plenty of stories for yourself, dear heart." Anafiel replied with a fond smile. "You don't need to live in mine."
"She is correct, Inquisitor." Kieran said from his place at Anafiel's right. "It is an honor. Thank you for allowing me to come."
"It was no hardship, Kieran." And in fact, Kieran was one of the strongest mages Anafiel had ever seen; himself included. In fact, he reminded him strongly of Solas- quiet, intelligent, always listening inward to the things Beyond.
"I am curious about something, hahren." Anafiel smiled- yet another thing he loved about Kieran was his unfailing courtesy. "Did the vir'abelasan not warn you? I know the spirits see many things beyond our ken."
"No. They whisper of many things, but not of this."
"Good!" Carver grinned his widest, sunniest smile. "Myself, I'd rather be surprised."
The matter was dropped as they moved on to other conversation, but Anafiel knew that Kieran knew that he had lied. Well, sort of lied. The spirits had said nothing about a fade rift, but Anafiel had been having dreams for months now. Dreams of wolves and mirrors, doors that unlocked with his touch, dragons dissolving into tiny pinpricks of light. And Anafiel knew with certainty that for good or ill, this would be his last ranging. How do you tell that to the ones you love and what would they do with it? Assure him that they were only dreams, call him crazy or spend precious time worrying. So he chose not to speak out.
They made good time across the mountains and soon they were at the borders of the Emerald Graves. Anafiel had loved this place from the first moment he saw it. The ancient power of his people saturated the very stones at their feet, made him feel as though he were drowning in power. His spells were stronger here, his vision clearer, and that was before he had drank from the Well of Sorrows. Every rock and tree had a history, history which the spirits were more than happy to tell, and he was happy to pass along to his young companions.
It was early on their third day in the Graves when it happened. Anafiel was discussing ambient spell casting with Kieran when the Anchor flared with life so strongly he almost fell off his hart. He hissed displeasure- it had been many years since he had had to deal with controlling the power in his mark. "Uncle?" Haven asked, concern on her pretty face.
Anafiel cradled his hand against his stomach, forced the pain to the background. "We're close."
"Yes," Grey confirmed. "It should be just over the next rise."
Anafiel knew something was wrong the moment he saw the rift. It was so still, barely moving at all, the green shot through with blue. Something about it brought to mind the Eluvian that currently sat in Skyhold Castle. His magic, not just the Anchor but the actual force interwoven with his soul, reached for it, ached to be one with its power.
"There's someone there!" Carver's voice rang sharply. Indeed, there was a figure standing just beyond the rift, average height and pointed ears, a staff in its hands.
Grey rode up beside him, "Do you think he…uncle?"
Anafiel had ridden beyond them. The rift crackled at his approach, the Anchor pulsating in perfect rhythm. He slid from the saddle and walked purposefully toward the breach. The figure also came from behind the rift and approached. The voices of the well clamored to be heard, but Anafiel didn't need their knowledge to know who stood before him.
"Hahren. You look well."
Solas smiled. "Hello, old friend."