JOURNEYS

Dorian had never wanted to be a magister. His love lay in books and research. As a boy, he'd said he wanted to be a magister, many times. Pleasing his father had meant everything to him. So, he said words to make him happy. Once he'd entered his teens, he was certain it was a moot point, regardless.

"Honestly, I never thought it would be an issue." He drained his glass, and refilled it with the very good wine he'd brought up from the cellar. "I never truly believed Halward would bequeath his seat to me. Not after my inclinations were made clear, anyway."

"Can you turn it down?" Anders asked. The three men swayed in hammocks in the inner courtyard. Returning from the cooperative site, Dorian had wanted to distinguish the passing of his father, as well as the becoming of a magister. He decided that getting slowly drunk on the finest wine in his cellar was the best way to go about both. The sky was turning beautiful shades of pink and violet as the sun sank.

"I can, yes. Had I never joined the Inquisition, and learned what I did, and seen what I saw, and met who I know... I might have." He sipped his glass. "But, now. Now, I can do things. I can speak to people. I can try to heal my country." His head rolled to look at Anders, lying in a large hammock beside Fenris. "I can heal my country, like you healed Cullen. Purge all the poisoning lies from it. All the filth and corruption... just vomit it up, and shit it all out. Make it the glorious land it was meant to be. Regain its beauty and wonder."

"I'm not sure it will be quite that easy," Fenris said. He sipped from Anders' glass. "A nationwide enema will meet resistance, at some point in the process."

Dorian waved his hand. "Of course, there will be. They will resist. They always resist." His mouth fell open. "Vishante kaffas... did I just quote Corypheus? Maker's breath. I am an evil magister..."

"Only if you don't bring that bottle over here," Fenris said, holding up his empty glass. Dorian stood, somewhat unsteadily, and tried to aim the wine bottle at the glass held in the swinging hand of the elf. The hammock struck his legs, and knocked him on top of the two men. All three clamored to avoid spilling the bottle. Dorian found a comfortable position, lying crosswise atop their legs, looking up at the colorful sky. Fenris took the bottle from his hand, and pulled a drink from it.

"The Magisterium isn't much fun," Dorian said. "Dour, sour power. That rhymes."

Anders laughed, and drained his glass. He pulled the bottle from Fenris and took a drink. Dorian took it from Anders, and did the same.

"You'll come with me, won't you?" Dorian asked. His voice was wistful, his grey eyes yearning.

Fenris nodded, taking the bottle. "Eventually, yes. We want to go to Kirkwall, first."

Dorian's face broke into a grin. "You're going to Kirkwall? Oh, that's marvelous! It's a bit of a shithole, but Varric's there. And, he's Viscount. And, you'll see your friends. I wish I could go with you."

"So come," Anders encouraged. He took the bottle from Fenris.

"I can't delay getting to the Magisterium. In the presence of a vacuum, little factions form to create power plays; cliques begin lobbying for their interest. Arriving late could be like walking into an fire-fight."

"Are they gonna try to assassinate you, too?" Anders was worried. "Maybe we should go with you. Fenris can keep you safe."

Dorian took the bottle. "You are so precious... wanting to take care of me. I'm too new to be a threat. They'll wait to see how I play-out. They don't want to kill a potential ally before they know my platform." He looked at Fenris. "You had better take excellent care of him. He's the only official member of the Pavus family that has ever cared what happened to me..." Dorian's voice roughened, and he took another drink from the bottle. "My precious little brother."

Fenris and Anders stared at him a moment, then broke into laughter. "You've had enough," Fenris said, taking the bottle.

"I'm older than you," Anders said, indignantly.

"How old are you?" asked Fenris.

"I'll have thirty-eight years this autumn. How old are you? Oh... you don't know..."

"You age well, my mage." Fenris nuzzled Anders' ear.

"Kaffas... the two of you are the most libidinous pair... how can you not know how old you are?"

"When he got the lyrium, it wiped his memory," Anders answered. Fenris continued his nuzzling.

"Fasta vass! I... how did I not know this?"

"It never came up," Anders said, chuckling at Fenris' tickling breath.

"Stop it, Elf... I won't have you two rutting beneath me. That's horrendous, that you lost your memory."

Fenris reluctantly left off his nuzzling. "Everything about Danarius was horrendous."

Anders' face suddenly lit up. "Do you remember losing your last molars?"

Fenris looked confused. "My teeth? I don't remember losing any teeth."

Anders grinned. "Elves lose their last childhood molars around seventeen or eighteen. So, you were at least that old when you got the lyrium. And, you were with Danarius for four years before you ran. And, you ran three years before you met Hawke. So... you're at least my age, or older."

"I am the venerable age of thirty-three," Dorian announced.

Anders laughed. "My precious little brother."

Dorian pulled the bottle from Fenris with some difficulty. "When will you leave for the Free Marches?"

"The very moment you leave for Minrathous," Anders answered. "I'm not missing you anymore than I have to."

"Dear Varric,

"Anders and I are leaving for Kirkwall in a month's time. Dorian sends his regards, but is traveling to Minrathous when we leave. He has inherited his father's seat in the Magisterium.

"Thank you for procuring my old home. I'm happy to know it is there for us. I'll see about obtaining new corpses when I arrive.

"We would enjoy visiting anyone from the old days who is there. Perhaps you could pass on that Anders isn't comfortable with touch from most people. A wave and greeting will be better received than a hug or handshake.

"We look forward to viewing the changes your reign has brought to the fair city of Kirkwall.

"You can try to win your five sovereigns back in a game of Wicked Grace.

"Fenris."

The month before the men left for their separate destinations passed too quickly. Anders assured his various correspondents knew of his coming temporary change of address. Things were progressing in his Grey Warden research project, and he didn't want to delay it any more than necessary. Fenris would help him with continuing his communication.

Dorian was making contacts and alliances with regard to his new Magistrate position. Now that he actually had power, some of his more tepid connections warmed considerably. His friend and fellow magister, Maevaris Tilani, happily awaited his arrival. Hearing of her reputation in the Magisterium put Anders and Fenris both at ease for Dorian's safety. He had a powerful ally in her.

Numerous trips were made into the city for supplies, correspondence, and an unusual visit to a healer. This visit wasn't for one of the men, but for Tigris. Anders was pleasantly surprised to learn that a whole division of healing magic had been developed in Tevinter, focused on small pets.

Dorian explained the phenomenon. There were many wealthy citizens in the Imperium. With marriage and child-rearing reduced to the level of breeding prize stock, few nobles had the affection and love most would find in family. Pets were highly valued. Love and devotion could be openly showered on a cat or lap-dog, with no fear of reprisal or loss of status. So, small animal veterinary magic found a niche.

Tigris was healthy, growing like a weed, and spoiled by her two people. She was also nearing the age of her first heat. There was no question of whether or not she was coming with them to Kirkwall. Even so, Anders had no desire to travel with a yowling, posturing cat-in-heat; never mind the increased risk of her running off and getting lost.

A trip in a lovely, decorative crate proved exciting for the young cat. She watched with inquisitive grey eyes as the carriage took them through the countryside and into the city. The Healer was adept at handling her, and happy to have another Healer to talk with, after a fashion. Fenris did the actual talking. Anders felt himself puff with pride when the Healer complimented Tigris' coat, eyes and general health. The Healer treated her with a neutering potion. If Anders ever wanted her to breed, a counter-potion could be given. As it was, she would not, now, go into heat.

Eating at an open-air restaurant, they waited for Dorian to finish his meeting at the Circle. Tigris' kennel sat on the end of the table, from which she stretched her paw slyly to try to snag bits of food from their plates. When Dorian appeared, he had a stranger at his side. Anders and Fenris stood.

"I'd like you to meet Belus Wallus. Belus, Anders and Fenris, of House Pavus." Anders' eyes widened, but he managed to nod before he broke his gaze. Fenris, surprised to be included in the House designation, gave an appropriate greeting. As they all sat, Anders took Fenris' hand under the table.

Wallus was speaking. "I understand you're all leaving, soon. I apologize for arriving at your table unexpectedly. I had hoped to meet you before you left." Wallus bore little resemblance to his son, Anders was relieved to note. He cast glances at the man, able to meet his gaze for short periods. "Anders, I understand speaking is difficult for you. I do wish to apologize to both of you on behalf of my youngest. I had no idea..."

Fenris was surprised that he was included in the apology. He was a slave, after all. He managed to murmur an acceptance. He saw Anders nod in acknowledgment.

Dorian was speaking. "Belus brings me news, that I think you'll be interested to hear. The four names you gave me, men who'd also attended Danarius' little parties... have all been brought up on charges of assault." Anders and Fenris looked at each other in confusion. "Not for you, sadly. But, for others. Apparently, they have a bit of a club, attending similar parties on a seasonal basis. A pair of young men, sons of a magister, were the would-be victims. They had snuck into the gathering, on a whim, dressed as servants. Fortunately, they were able and willing to resist the attack, and reported the party-goers to their father. Quite an embarrassment, for everyone."

Anders was blinking rapidly in surprise. He was relieved the boys weren't hurt, but disgusted they had wanted to attend such a party so badly they'd snuck in. He was thrilled the men who had hurt he and Fenris were meeting justice. He gave a small chuckle at that. Justice.

Fenris nodded. "Perhaps this will curtail their desire for such activity. I doubt they'll get more than a slap on the hand."

Wallus sighed. "You're probably right. But, the situation has brought the plight of those abused under their masters and employers to light. The timing couldn't be better."

Anders spoke to Dorian. "Those young men could be valuable allies. They won't forget what happened. They can influence their father, and one day, hold power, themselves."

Dorian nodded. "My thoughts, exactly, Anders."

"But, there were others. Men whose names we don't know. Men still out there."

The drive home, Anders found himself with his mouth worrying Fenris' neck. "What is it?" Fenris asked. "Was meeting Wallus difficult?"

He shook his head. "Just... thinking of the others. The ones still out there. What they did. What they're probably still doing. Sometimes the world seems terrifying." His mouth found the elf's neck, again, and Fenris pulled him close.

"It always has been. You just know the true depth of its terror. You still alright with leaving?"

Anders nodded. "You'll be with me."

Fenris stroked the mage's hair. "Every step."

Anders and Fenris made several trips to the city without Dorian. Traveling without him had them nervous, at first. In time, they lost that anxiety, and simply went about their business. Each time they returned, he met them on the veranda; shepherding them in like a mother hen.

One evening, Dorian pulled a small box from his pocket.

"I'm not normally a sentimental man. I am, however, quite vain. So, don't read more into this than you should." The box contained three small, gold, hoop earrings.

"You've obviously had a pierced ear, before," he gestured to Anders. "The scar still shows. Fenris' ears are a palette waiting to be decorated. And, I? I would simply look dashing in a fine gold earring. What say we make an evening of it?"

Anders was thrilled. "You're fooling no one, Dorian. This is a mark of brotherhood."

"Hush. So help me, if you make me tear-up, I'll put your ring through your nose."

Fenris was beyond delighted. Jewelry and decoration were not things he had ever cared for. But, this. This symbol of the brotherhood he shared with these two men... He was not, formally, a member of the Pavus family. But, the connection he shared with Dorian went beyond titles and names. The small pain of the needle piercing his lobe seemed like a birthing into his small family.

Once they each had their hoop in place, Anders healed the holes. They stood at the mirror, smiling.

"Fasta vass. I wear it well," Dorian gushed. "It's no surprise. I wear everything well."

"How do you have room to eat, as full of yourself as you are?" Fenris teased, still grinning at their matched hoops.

"Growing up with my parents, you learn to coddle yourself. Besides, it's true. You can't say it's not."

Anders tugged Dorian's earring. "Precious little brother."

Dorian swatted his hand away. "I should have put it through your nose, on general purposes."

The day of departure arrived. The morning began with Anders belly-down on their bed, sobbing. He didn't want comforting or cosseting. He knew why he was crying, and there was nothing that would change it. Oh, he knew he could decide to go with Dorian, but he wasn't going to. He wanted to go to Kirkwall. And, he wanted Dorian to begin his tenure in the Magisterium. He also knew he would miss him, terribly.

Dorian came to find them for breakfast. He saw Fenris sitting beside the prostrate Anders. With a wry smile, he climbed on the bed, and put arms around him.

"Alright, precious little brother. You're going to be fine."

"I'm older than you," Anders muttered through his tears.

Regardless of what he claimed he didn't want, Anders found himself being nestled between Dorian and Fenris, in a three-way snuggle. It helped, surprisingly. After an hour or so of sniffles, talk and finally, laughter, they all rose from the bed feeling better for it.

Dorian's trip would take him north to Qarinus, where he would stay briefly at his mother's estate. He would then travel by ship to Minrathous. Most of the house staff had gone ahead to prepare the capital estate. A few would stay to manage this one.

Anders and Fenris would take the same route that Eve, Cullen and the Chargers had taken; south through Nevarra, to the Waking Sea. Then, a boat would take them to Kirkwall.

Two carriages stood out front, facing opposite directions. Both were packed in short order. The three men stood on the veranda, reluctant to leave.

Dorian held out a small pouch. "Take this." Fenris took the pouch. "It's a sending crystal. Eve has one like it. If you hold it in your hand, and speak my name, it will connect with mine. I can contact you the same way. If your crystal vibrates, then by all that's holy, pick it up and speak to me." He took out his handkerchief and blotted his eyes. "I've not gone an entire day without your company in nearly a year. I haven't the foggiest how I'll manage, now."

Fenris bit his lip, feeling tears threaten. Anders threw himself into Dorian's arms, sobbing once again. Dorian forgot to care about making an emotional display. He held Anders and wept freely. Both men opened one arm, and drew Fenris into their huddle. As he wrapped his arms about them both, in return, his tears joined theirs.

Cried out, they all stood with foreheads touching, arms about one another.

Dorian spoke into their joined space. "You two will be fine. You're strong, grown men, taking the world back under your terms. Oh, I envy your adventure."

"You're going to do great things, Dorian," Fenris said. "Tell us on the sending crystal. In time, you'll tell us in person."

"I miss you, already," Anders wept. They all fell into tight embrace, again.

Finally, they parted. Handkerchiefs and sleeves dried eyes. Dorian put a hand on a shoulder of each.

"Come back," he said.

They returned his gesture.

"We will," they replied.

He quirked a corner of his mouth, then turned and mounted the carriage. The driver chirruped the horses, and he was on his way.

Anders and Fenris couldn't stand to watch him leave. They climbed into their own carriage, tears flowing. The house fell behind them.

As they drove in the opposite direction Dorian had gone, they leaned into one another's arms. Tears poured down Anders' face. He knew Dorian wasn't leaving them, he was just changing places. They were traveling to see old friends who cared about them. Most important, they had each other. Fenris pulled Anders into the crook of his neck, sighing when he felt the mage's mouth against his skin. He closed his eyes, and let himself be soothed by the gentle sensation.

Fenris had forgotten how much of adventuring was simple, dull travel. Point A to Point B was often boring, arduous, and dusty. Admittedly, traveling as wealthy men took out all but the dust. The Imperial Highway was well-traveled. Even as they traveled through the Silent Plains, small villages appeared at regular intervals. Even the smallest of them had a respectable inn, with rooms for their driver, and themselves.

Dorian activated the Sending Crystal the first night. They were full of wonder at the thing. It was as though he were in the room with them. They had little to tell him, but simply hearing his voice gave them great cheer. When they disconnected, Anders wept. He'd spent much of the day quietly crying. Fenris pulled him close, and kissed the tears from his cheeks. Those small kisses grew into amorous ones. Anders was exceptionally fervent in his lovemaking. Nervous energy and strong emotions found release in their pleasure.

Fenris held his mage in the afterglow, stroking his hair, breathing his scent. "How do you feel?"

Anders took a deep breath and let it go. "Strange. At loose ends. Free. Uncertain. Excited."

Fenris chuckled. "My emotional mage. I'm so happy to be on this journey with you."

He suddenly gasped and grabbed at his ear. A furry streak of grey bounded over them, and across the room. Anders dissolved into laughter.

"She's a terror, that tiny tigris," Fenris grumbled, rubbing his ear. Anders leaned over him, and healed the scratches her claws had made on the point of his ear.

"She's not so tiny, anymore. She gets into hunting mode at night, just like a big kitty."

"She should hunt your ears for a while, and give mine a rest," the elf said.

The drive to the coast was uneventful. Blessedly, happily, uneventful. They missed Dorian acutely. As the days passed, Anders' weeping ceased, and he sought comfort less. Tigris rode in her crate on the seat opposite them, her grey eyes watching the world outside her reach.

"She has Dorian's eyes," Anders said, one afternoon.

"I'm not surprised. She has most of my ears," Fenris replied.

Anders laughed. "Really, hers have the same grey coloring that his do."

"I suppose they do. I also think you're romanticizing him a bit."

"So, what if I am? I miss him. Sometimes, it's palpable."

"I know. I miss him, too. You're just better at expressing it than I."

They spent the long days in the carriage playing cards, reading, talking, kissing. Hours of kissing, with no thought to take it further. Simple, intimate, pleasurable connection.

They spoke with Dorian every-other night, or so. His visit with his mother was less than congenial, as he'd expected. He was boarding his boat to Minrathous in a couple of days. "I'd forgotten," he said, "There's a lovely blanketing of moss along the northern coast. The most verdant green. It brings to mind the color of Fenris' eyes." Anders poked the elf and stifled a snicker. He missed them, as much they missed him.

Boarding their boat in a much more decorous manner than the last, Anders was amazed at the opulence. The ship was the largest he had been on. Although, having been on two, he supposed he didn't have much with which to compare it. They and their luggage were escorted to a rich cabin. It reminded him of their first room at Dorian's estate; a common room and attached bath.

They lay on their bed, and simply breathed. The boat and port were bringing up some memories they had never considered, before now.

"Where were you when we were brought from Kirkwall?" Anders asked.

"In a transport cage in the hold. Where were you?"

"The same, I think. I could only see out some holes in the roof. I couldn't use magic."

Fenris grunted. "Sounds like a suppression cage. I never heard you. I wondered where you were."

"I thought you were with Denarius."

"No. But, before I ran from him, I always traveled in his cabin on boats."

"Was he always as terrible as he was when we were with him?"

"In general, no. He was more sociable, then. Brilliant. He was in decline by the time he took us. In his pleasures, yes. He was always terrible. Except... it was worse, when we were with him. Being witness to your abuse nearly killed me, every time." He shuddered, and rolled into Anders' arms. His mouth found the mage's neck.

Anders held him, remembering the terror of the journey from Kirkwall. "I had no idea where we were going, why I was there, what would happen to me." He ran his fingers through the elf's silky hair. "I'd go through it all again, if it meant I could have you."

Fenris lifted his head. "You can't mean that. I'd rather you still hated me, than for you to have ever gone through that."

Anders shook his head. "You are the only thing that matters, Fenris. I would die for you, kill for you, suffer Danarius for you." His fingers gently traced his features. "You're everything precious in this world. There's no price I wouldn't pay to be with you."

Fenris kissed him, long and tenderly. "Love me..."

Anders smiled, eyes moist. "Of course..."

When not otherwise occupied in their cabin, the pair stayed above deck as much as possible. Fenris tanned darker than he already was, his lyrium markings standing out in more striking relief. Anders gained a bit of color, but mostly cultivated a crop of freckles from sitting in the sun. He would have been blistered from sunburn, but for healing his skin every few hours.

The ship was designed as a passenger transport, and catered to many wealthy travelers. The deck had chairs and pillows scattered on it, and servants waited on the passengers as they enjoyed the sun and air. Relaxing in the warm sea breeze was delightful.

"I've been thinking, Anders."

"I noticed."

"What you said, about how being left in the cell makes you fear you'll be abandoned. It's more than that."

"What do you mean?"

"Just based on what you've told me, you've been abandoned your whole life. Your father turned you in to the Templars. Somehow, no one at the Circle even knew your name. Karl was sent away while you were lovers. You were put in isolation for a year. You had to leave the Wardens after you joined with Justice. Hawke gave you to Danarius. You lost contact with Justice with the suppression collar. I didn't like that spirit being in you, Anders... but he must have been important to you."

The mage was thoughtful for a moment. "Maker's breath. My life was seriously screwed up."

"Yes. You were so strong, my Anders, to come through it as well as you did. Still, it's no wonder you fear being abandoned." He turned to look at the mage. "I will never leave you."

He quirked a small grin. "I know."

In their cabin at night, the elf counted Anders' freckles.

"I love them. They're adorable."

"Are they? That's good to know."

"You know you're beautiful."

"I don't know that I do. I also don't care. As long as you think I'm worth looking at..."

"Looking at, listening to, touching, tasting, smelling... you're a feast for the senses, mage."

"Hungry?"

"I am. Undress."

Finally, the day came that the giant black cliff wall surrounding the harbor and city of Kirkwall loomed into view. The pair stood at the railing, watching as features became clear.

The Twins were next, flanking the channel through the wall.

Finally, the ship slowly made its way through the channel and into the harbor. Ravens circled above, and roosted in the nooks and crannies of the wall. Voices called across the docks and water. High up, at the top of the city, the silhouettes of the Viscount's Keep and the Chantry stood clear.

They had arrived.

tbc...

Author's Notes:

Another chapter that had me bawling as I wrote parts of it. The goodbye scene on the veranda made me a mess.

I had to touch on Anders' abandonment issues, again. Just needed to. Thanks for bearing with me.

Dragon Age Wiki lists Dorian's birth year as 9:11. Anders and Fenris have no official birth years, nor stated ages. Searching forums and bit of clues gleaned from the game, I created my head-canon. If it differs from your ideas, don't let it get you down.