Varric jumped to his feet from the stool he was sitting in the moment Dorian closed the door behind him. "How'd it go, Sparkler?"
His throat tightened, and a crushing pain caved onto his chest, making so very difficult to breathe. He nearly gasped from the sheer agony that racked his soul. Unable to say anything, Dorian turned away before his eyes could water again. No matter his pain he would not humiliate himself in front of Varric like that again.
"Shit, that bad?"
"You have no idea." The words came with much more meaning that Dorian realized. No, there was no way Varric could even had the slightest inkling of how bad it was. Suddenly, the world started to tilt on its side. "I've lost him twice now."
"He's not dead, Sparkler."
"No?" He turned towards the dwarf now, a faint laugh escaping his lips. As he spoke, his voice was surprisingly even despite the turmoil raging through him, "If he's not dead, than it's a fate worse than death. Far, far worse," he shook his head folding his arms across himself. "I bet his followers will be overjoyed to see him breathing again. They'll call it a 'Maker Miracle'; to the void with the fact that Alarion has never believed in the Maker. Meanwhile, only his friends will grieve because only we know how the man we truly appreciated and adored is actually gone. Gone forever. And that petrified man in there stole his body." Unable to keep still, Dorian started to pace, violently gesturing towards the floor with every word. "The man I loved. The elf we all adored, gone forever. And, even worse than actually being killed, we're left with a shell of a person; someone else parading around in his skin!"
At first, Varric did nothing. How long that lasted was unknown before the dwarf stood and walked over to his side. "That's still Glowy in there."
"No it's not!" Dorian was wound up like a wire. His tension and grief had him so riled he felt like a single shove and he would make him snap. His hands curled at his side, making sparking noises as he held back barely contained lightning. "He said so himself! He has no memories, Varric!"
"But he's still our friend."
"What was something you once said while we were in the Fade? Ah yes, 'memories are what makes us who we are'. Then take away the memories of someone, and they're no longer them! That's not Alarion anymore."
The dwarf frowned at him for a while before speaking. "Yes, and I meant that. That elf may not be same man we remember, but he's still Glowy. Do you think I'm the same man you said goodbye to, what, nine months ago? People change. They're always changing."
"Don't you dare try and compare…!"
Folding his arms, Varric said, "If you don't keep your voice down, Glowy will hear you."
Without another glance, Dorian stormed past the dwarf and past the table in front of him. The wooden house led to a small hallway, which he gave barely a glance as he push opened the door and stepped outside into the musty humidity. Dorian allowed himself to take in a deep breathe, grateful for the large group of trees clustered enough to cast him in shade.
"Look, Sparkler–"
"Not a word, Varric. I don't want to hear it."
"Fine, fine. I'll be quiet… for now."
Shutting his eyes, Dorian felt his body start to sag. Instead of falling undignified to the ground, Dorian dragged himself to the wall of the house and slide down it, back pressed up against it.
For the three months Dorian thought his amatus was dead, Dorian had forced himself to lock all their happy memoires they shared together in his heart. Only when he was so drunk and sobbing alone did he even let the memories surface at all. Now, though, he found he couldn't stop them.
Alarion comes tumbling drunken into my room, switching randomly from rambling to singing. He says many things that night as I drag him back to his room so the gossiping pigeons can't feast on the idea that he spent the night in the Evil Magister's room. At one point, he even mumbles out, "I'm all yours forever now. Well, I guess as long as you'll have me."
"Or until you get sick of me."
"Not possible. I can't get enough of you."
At the time, Dorian had forced himself to brush it aside, convinced it had just been the alcohol talking. Looking back on it, months later, he was forced to accept that there was a possibility of the words being true. It didn't help that the elf, who couldn't remember the episode, repeated the words to him dead in the night four months later.
I had been expecting a laugh. For Alarion to brush it aside like he did most things he didn't deem important. But the man only gives the smallest smirk with a raised eyebrow. "That's not the worse assumption they could have, is it?"
Only a few heartbeats later, I'm kissing him. The feeling is so infinitely better than I could ever have imagined. Maker, how did I manage to wait so long? And, for that matter, why did I wait?
Dorian suddenly felt like crying, thinking back on their first kiss.
Alarion had been pacing and standing just outside my door for at least twenty minutes. When finally confronted, he slowly admits to his fear of me rejecting him. With his head buried into my chest, Alarion says the words, "…the one I love the most."
Instead of taking the words back, he only apologizes for breaking his promise.
Tears began to fall freely from his eyes as he thought back on the first time Alarion said those three words.
They had been lying on each other reading books before Alarion had sat up. Turning to me, he says the words I will never forget. "Dorian, there's something I want to tell you. I'm worried it will scare you, so let me promise you something: I promise I'll only say it when we're here in this room unless you want me to do otherwise." I try to steer the conversation a different direction out of fear, but Alarion isn't having any of it. "Dorian Pavus, I love you. I love you so much! I love you more than life itself. You make me so unbelievably happy! I just hope that I make you just as happy as you make me, because I love you. I love you. Creators, I love you so much!"
Fully sobbing now, he finally opened his eyes to see the sun had set. Varric stood above him to his left, leaning against the wall. The dwarf said nothing as Dorian cupped a hand over his mouth, trying to stiffen the wails wanting to escape his lips.
In all their time together, Dorian had never said 'I love you' back. And, despite Alarion's constant reassurance that it was fine, he had always felt terrible about it. But he hadn't known at the time! Maker, what a fool he was. It took Alarion dying for Dorian to finally understand how deeply he felt for the elf. And, Dorian never told him. He never had a chance to. It had been too late.
He kept thinking about the man in that room now. Too scared to even look at him directly. Constantly flinching as though he expected Dorian to slap him every other moment.
And his eyes… Dorian could remember the exact way Alarion's stunning eyes looked. The brightest green he had ever seen with irises so light they were almost white. The way they always held such warmth to everyone he looked at. Each eye had a laugh in them, ready to spill across his lips at any moment. And when it was just the two of them, his eyes would fill with tears; secret and frequent and always hidden. Maker, novels could have been written about such twinkling and kind eyes.
Now, they were wide and fearful. Flickering constantly from Dorian to the door, always watchful. Cold… suspicious of him… Terrified tears open for all to see.
"Maker, it's not him anymore." He hiccupped, trying to stop his voice from wavering. "The man I love is dead."
For a long time, Varric didn't reply. When he did, his voice was so low and growly; it was lucky the earth didn't shake at their feet.
"You're giving up?"
"What else could I possibly do, Varric?" His voice stayed steady, despite the continuous tears that were falling. "He asked me to stay away, so I will. Instead, I'm going to find the ones that did this to him, and I'm going to kill them."
"Then you're giving up on him. You're giving up when he needs you the most?" Dorian looked up slowly to see Varric's face twisted into a glare so powerful, it was as sharp as any of his bolts. "Fine, Sparkler, give up! Walk away and go on a hunt for the bad guys. But ask yourself one stupid question that you should have already asked yourself: would Alarion have given up on you if your situations were reverse?"
"Alarion? Never." Dorian answered without any hesitation. "He would have never given up, despite what anyone would have said. He would have pushed mountains and shook entire continents." Albeit, likely sobbing the entire time…
"And that's something he would have done for any of his friends." Varric replied, voice surprisingly soft. "Just imagine what he would have done for you?"
At once guilt coursed through him. Hastily Dorian wiped away tears, feeling even more shame rising in himself by the second. Unable to handle it properly, he snorted and attempted to deflect the conversation. "Ha! He always was a better person than me."
"He still is better than all of us. I flat out refuse to believe my good friend is gone. He's somewhere in there. You'll see."
