Author's Note: Fair warning- Have the tissues handy for this one. I had such a hard time writing it. It was like my fingers were protesting every word!

Thanks to JayRain and kikalina for the review, and welcome to my new follower Cameri! You guys absolutely make my day!

Translations:

Amatus: beloved

Lethallin: kinsman, a term of affection to one who is like family

Vhenan: Heart, a term of endearment

vhenan'ara: Heart's desire

Vallasdahlen: Life-tree, a tree planted to mark the passing of a great hero

Just A Little While Longer

Haven exited the portal first, stumbling and skinning her knees against the rough flagstone. She barely had time to register that they were- thank the MAKER and any other god that was listening- back at Skyhold before she was up and running. "Mother!" She burst through the doors leading out to the courtyard, almost fell again when she hit the stairs but quickly righted herself. "Mother!"

Her cry not only brought Cassandra from the armory, but Cullen from his tower and half the tavern, including Cole and The Iron Bull. "What happened?" Haven was shaking as Cassandra pulled her into a tight embrace. "What is it, my girl?"

"They pull toward freedom, toward a light that isn't theirs," Cole stated. "They woke, then waited, wanting, wishing until he pulled open the door. Then they marched and it broke, shimmering spines stabbing..."

"Uncle…Anafiel…we went to the rift, but it wasn't a rift it was a portal and Solas was there..."

"Solas?!"

"Yes, only Kieran called him Fen'Harel and he said he could free the Elven Gods so Uncle broke open the rift with Solas's power and the Anchor…it shattered…"

Cassandra grabbed Haven's shoulders, pushed her back just enough to look in her eyes. "Anafiel is hurt? Is he alive?" At her daughter's nod, Cassandra barked at a dumbstruck guard, "You! Fetch the healers and bring them to the Inquisitor's quarters. Now!" The man didn't even stop to salute but ran like there were demons at his heels. "Cole, find Dorian…" The spirit was gone before she could even finish her sentence. "Bull, Cullen…tell the others. If something should happen…"

The two men nodded grimly. If the worst should happen, Skyhold needed to be prepared.

The healers, Haven and Cassandra reached the Inquistor's quarters at the same time. They entered to find an ashen-faced Kieran on his knees next to the bed; even from where they stood they could feel his magic practically hemorrhaging into Anafiel. They rushed forward, tried to pull him back, but to their surprise he fought them. "No! No, I have to stop the corruption from spreading!"

"Lad, you'll kill yourself trying!" The younger of the two healers was a brawny man but even he was having trouble holding the near-hysterical mage. "You're bleeding life-energy as it is!"

The older healer had taken the opportunity to examine Anafiel's hand. Even with Kieran's help, the light from the Anchor had begun to spread up Anafiel's arm like blood poisoning. He looked up, face grim. "It can't be stopped. The mark is bleeding magic at a rapid rate; the best we can do is slow the progression."

"Will he…?" Cassandra couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence.

"We don't know. The Anchor is like nothing we've ever seen. But it doesn't look promising."

Anafiel convulsed under the healer's hands, muttering in rapid Elvhen. Cassandra raked a hand through her dark hair, "Curse it! Where the hell is Dorian?"

"Here." The Tevene shoved the healer aside and took Anafiel's hand. "Anafiel Lavellan, you ridiculous man…didn't I tell you not to go?"

"Dorian." Anafiel murmured. "Dorian…"

"That's right. Open your eyes, amatus." It took a moment, but Anafiel obeyed. He smiled when he saw his lover's face.

"Am I dead?"

"Not yet." Dorian deadpanned. "But when you heal up, I'm going to kill you, so be prepared."

"Not…going to happen. I can feel…"

"Never mind what you feel. I forbid you to die, do you understand?"

Anafiel's eyes fluttered shut again, but he still wore the ghost of a smile. "As you command, Master Pavus."

(*&*)

"How's Uncle?"

"I've never seen such strength of will," Cassandra murmured to Grey as he came to take her place. It had been three days of watching, waiting with nerves taut to see if Anafiel would pull through. Three days of watching his body slowly shut down, laboring for every breath, crying out against pain they couldn't soothe. They pitched their voices low so they would not disturb either of the two figures asleep on the wide bed- Cassandra had just persuaded Dorian to sleep, his first true rest since Anafiel was brought in, and once he had given in he had merely passed out on top of the covers fully clothed. "He seems to be resting comfortably for now."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"Yes but…the corruption still spreads."

"He's strong. There's still a chance he could make it."

"Perhaps." Cassandra's eyes still showed doubt, even as she smiled at Grey's encouragement. "Cullen will be in this evening to take your place." She said as she turned to go.

Anafiel, watching them from his dreams in the Fade, knew he was dying. He wished he could tell them the truth in a way that wouldn't hurt them. Cassandra, at least, harbored no doubts. She of all of them would be able to let him go with grace, and she would help the others of his inner circle to do the same. Time would heal Grey, Haven, Carver and Kieran and soon he would be just a pleasant memory to the littlest ones as well. But Dorian…ah, what was he to do about Dorian?

"I'm afraid there's nothing you can do."

"Just the same," Anafiel turned to look at Solas. "I worry about him."

"Did you know?" The elf looked genuinely curious. "Did you know, when you started, how much you would love him?"

"It seemed unthinkable that we would ever be apart. I needed him as much as I needed air in my lungs…but I didn't realize it until there was a chance I would have to let him go. Luckily, he chose to stay. And now I'm the one who will have to leave him. I don't regret it," Anafiel was quick to reassure the other mage. "But I do wish I could have gone without hurting him."

"Are you sure you would shorten your remaining days?"

"Anything is better than slow torture."

"Then I offer you one more gift, lethallin. The gift of mercy." Solas took Anafiel's face in his hands. Power flickered behind Solas's eyes, giving a glimpse into things unseen, and then he was the same solemn mage Anafiel had met on the road to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. "You can say your goodbyes when you wake up."

Dorian knew when the Anchor made its last push. He felt it reverberate in his very being, jolting him awake with an emotion akin to panic. Anafiel squeezed his hand.

"It's…alright, vhenan. It's better this way."

"Anafiel…"

"Dorian…" Anafiel could barely catch his breath, "Want to see…the trees."

Dorian choked back the catch in his throat, forced his voice to be steady. "Alright, amatus."

"I'll take him," Grey offered quietly. "If Uncle doesn't mind." At Anafiel's nod, he gently raised the elf into his solid arms. Dorian and Grey found the Great Hall and gardens both empty, which wasn't a surprise- most of the castle had been packing the Chantry for the last few days, praying for Anafiel's recovery. Dorian settled on the ground under Anafiel's favorite tree, a rare apple tree from Orlais that had been a gift from the Empress. He had planted it their first year in Skyhold, but it still bloomed with snowy radiance every year.

Grey carefully set Anafiel down beside Dorian, tried to keep his head to the side so neither mage could see the suspicious dampness on his cheeks, but Anafiel caught his wrist. "You're a good lad, Grey. Honest, brave and true. Your father would have been proud…as I am." Grey looked down at the item Anafiel had pressed into his hand. The Inquisitor's signet ring, the mark of his power, lay in his palm.

"Uncle…I can't…Maker's Balls, I know nothing about…"

"You will learn," Anafiel cut him off with a faint smile. "I did."

"I will…do my best to be worthy of the title. Thank you, my lord." Grey bent his knee, clenched his fist over his heart in a salute and withdrew.

"A wise choice," Dorian commented.

"He'll do well." Anafiel sighed contentedly as the breeze kicked up, bringing the scent of earth and apple blossoms. "We've had a good life, haven't we Dorian?"

"Yes," Dorian replied. He cradled his lover's head in his lap, smoothed Anafiel's long white hair away from his forehead. "If you don't count the holes in the sky, the archdemon and the insane magisters. And the crazy possessed Templars. And the dragons. Oh, and the darkspawn!"

"Don't forget the giants."

"Oh yes, the giants! So charming. Why did we never bring one to Skyhold?"

"I hear they're a pain to feed."

"Can't be any worse than The Iron Bull…"

Anafiel laughed at that, but it was lost in a fit of coughing. The sound wrenched at Dorian's heart. With every labored breath, the light from the Anchor dimmed. Dorian couldn't even feel Anafiel's magic anymore, and suddenly it terrified him. What would he do without Anafiel, without his warmth and humor and occasional fierceness? How was he supposed to survive without his voice in his ear, assuring him of his worth…assuring him that he was loved, treasured beyond all price? "Let me come with you," Dorian found himself begging. "Let me stay by your side, just a little while longer, please amatus…"

"It's not your path to walk yet, vhenan'ara, but I'll make you a promise."

"Will you?"

"Yes," Anafiel smiled up at him, "I promise I won't be far. Just beyond the Veil."

"How can you possibly promise that?"

"Well, I have physically walked the Fade twice. I think I qualify as an expert."

Anafiel couldn't tell if Dorian was laughing or crying, but it was alright. He raised his hand to touch his face, closed his eyes when the mage pressed a kiss to his palm. His eyes never opened again. Dorian knew Anafiel was gone, but he couldn't help but call his name until it was no longer a name but an outpouring of broken anguish.

(*&*)

The pillows still smelled like him. A week after Anafiel's death and Dorian could still catch that faint trace of pine, of rain and the scent of the air just after a lightning strike. Anafiel was…had been…a remarkable storm mage. Dorian still couldn't think of him in the past tense. In fact, he couldn't bring himself to do much at all. He hadn't moved from their…his…bed since he had seen his lover's body laid out in full state in the Great Hall, surrounded by candles and wailing.

It was better here. Here he could remember the pillow talk and the teasing, the way Anafiel's eyes softened when they looked at him, his lips as they curled into a smile, the warmth of his kisses. Perhaps if he stayed here long enough, he would just fade away, borne on a tide of listless melancholy. "Uncle Dorian?" He hadn't even heard Haven come in. She was holding a bowl of warm water and a comb. "Uncle…I thought maybe you would like to get ready. For the…funeral. "

Vaguely, he felt sorry for causing the petrified look on her face as he rose out of bed, but the fury pulsing through his veins was enough to blind him. "Funeral? Don't make me laugh! I won't go down there and watch a bleating bunch of sisters from a religion he didn't even believe in reduce that beautiful man's life to banal trivialities and platitudes while idiots who knew his name and nothing else sob as though they had any right to mourn him! It sickens me!" Dorian doubled over as nausea hit him in waves, clutching his midriff as grief threatened to overwhelm him. Then to his surprise he felt Haven's gentle hand on his back.

"The Chantry funeral's over already." She informed him. "I hear it was lovely, but I didn't go. I was too busy gathering every Dalish clan within range of Skyhold."

"The Dalish?"

"Yes. Father contacted an old friend, Merrill, and she brought Uncle Anafiel's clan down from Wycome. Then, Marquise Briala showed up with a cutting of a Vallasdahlen…"

"A life tree? Really?" Dorian's eyes finally lifted to her face. There was a spark of the old Dorian there, always thirsting for knowledge. "He always loved the trees..."

"Come on," Haven helped him to his feet with a smile. "I'll find you something clean to wear."