Act III: Aut Deus Aut Lupus
I have faced armies
With You as my shield,
And though I bear scars beyond counting, nothing
Can break me except Your absence.
- Canticle of Trials 1:6
Skyhold, Firstfall, 9:42 Dragon
Six weeks. That was all the time that had passed since the Inquisitor closed the Breach a second time, casting down the ancient darkspawn magister who had sought to make himself a god by crossing the Veil and breaking into the Black City. That war had lasted for over a year, cost many lives and thrown southern Thedas into chaos. And now it was over. After so long living constantly on edge, always making plans and waiting for the enemy to strike, life was almost dull in comparison. And yet the chance to finally relax, finally put the constant worry and fear aside, was a welcome one.
The Inquisition's work was not done, however.
Almost daily now, Idhren held a meeting with a noble, diplomat, or attaché from Orlais, Ferelden, a Free Marches city, even an ambassador sent from Nevarra. He was heaped with praise and adulation, promises of new or continuing support for the Inquisition's efforts at cleaning up the mess that Corypheus had left behind.
And questions about what the Inquisition would do now that the threat was over.
Clean up the mess was the obvious answer. The Veil was healed once and for all, the would-be god utterly destroyed in the process, but rifts still lingered in places the Inquisition had not yet ventured and Corypheus' Venatori still roamed the countryside. It was these tasks that Idhren promised to perform, as well as providing support for reconstruction and resettlement for all those whose homes and livelihoods had been destroyed.
The Inquisitor's schedule was so packed full of meetings and negotiations that six weeks felt a very long time. And yet it also felt like no time at all.
With each day that passed the moment that Idhren had been dreading since the war had ended drew ever closer, inescapable and looming on the horizon no matter how he tried to ignore it.
Dorian was leaving.
The fact had been easy to ignore at first, but grew harder as time dragged on. First came the letter from Magister Tilani, eager to see him again and promising a place to live in Minrathous. Then there was a date, passage booked on a ship out of Jader. And then he started packing.
Idhren hadn't even realized how many of Dorian's possessions had migrated to his quarters over the past several months until they started disappearing. The man had once joked about avoiding mutual domesticity, but it seemed they had ended up there regardless. Now every time Idhren returned to the room more and more of those things were gone, packed away in a set of travelers' trunks near the head of the stairs. Piles of books overflowing from the bookshelves onto the floor or any available surface disappeared, dresser drawers and wardrobes emptied slowly, last to go were Dorian's cosmetics and the really excessive number of soaps in the bathing room.
Now he arrived back at his quarters after a morning filled with meetings to find the room devoid of every trace of Dorian save the man himself.
He was leaving Skyhold the next morning.
Idhren had less than a day left with him, and that time was running out all too quickly.
"All packed, I see," he commented, taking in the locked trunks stacked neatly by the stairs. The room felt stark and empty without the little touches Dorian had left without him even realizing it.
"Indeed," Dorian confirmed. His saddlebags and the same old traveling pack he'd used during the war hung on the banister, his staff propped up beside them. Servants would be along shortly to take the trunks down to the stable; the packs held everything Dorian would need for the journey to Jader. Idhren was traveling with him as far as the port city, but it still felt as though he had only a few hours left with Dorian by his side.
"You've been unusually quiet," Dorian said, "For a few days now. Is everything alright?"
"Yes," Idhren replied, but it felt like a lie. Nothing was wrong, per se. Politics were fine, the Inquisition was running smoothly, the world was at peace, and he'd been able to sleep in every day that week. "You're leaving, though."
"Ah, grieving the loss of my charming company and handsome face already, are you?" Dorian teased. The joke fell flat. And the look that Idhren shot him made Dorian wince. He had hit too close to the truth. "Come now, don't pout," he sighed. "It's not as though we haven't been separated before."
A couple of weeks while Idhren went on a mission and Dorian stayed at Skyhold was nothing compared this. Or was he talking about the last time they had had half a continent between them? Did Dorian think this was even remotely the same? "That was before…" he gestured between the two of them helplessly, "… this."
"That's true," Dorian was forced to admit. "You are aware I won't be away forever. It's hardly as though we'll never see each other again."
While it was true that visits would be possible, Idhren imagined they would be few and far between. Tevinter was a long ways from here, a trip of weeks on even the fastest ship. "But we won't see each other often, either."
There was another sigh as Dorian hesitated, then he crossed the room to where Idhren was still standing at the top of the stairs. "You know it brings me no joy to leave your side, amatus," he said. "But this is something I need to do."
"I know that," Idhren insisted, "I do." He had encouraged it, even. But knowing that Dorian was doing the right thing did not make it any easier to be parted from him. "I'm sorry. I suppose I'm being selfish." Of course Dorian would be hurting, too. "It'll be… difficult having you so far away."
"Is that your way of saying you'll miss me?" Dorian teased gently.
"Desperately," Idhren replied.
The complete honesty in his words, and the openly sad expression on his face, made Dorian falter. "Your calf eyes will be the end of me," he muttered, and then easily pulled Idhren into his arms. The elf did not resist as he sank into Dorian's embrace, arms instinctively wrapping around the man's waist and squeezing tight. As though he could hold Dorian here by force. Dorian returned the embrace just as fiercely. Idhren wasn't the only one who was dreading their parting. "I have something for you," Dorian said, loosening his grasp after a moment and carefully prying himself out of Idhren's arms. "I had planned to give it to you just before I left, but perhaps now is a better time," the man mused. He stepped over to the railing where his travel bags hung and riffled through one until he retrieved a small, paper wrapped parcel.
"A gift, amatus," Dorian said, handing over the package.
"For me?" Idhren asked in surprise. "It's not even my birthday," he tried to joke but it lacked true mirth. He accepted it all the same, curious as to the package's contents. Carefully, he unwrapped the paper until he held in his hand a slim book, immaculately bound in leather with the title embossed in gold.
Potentia Tempestatis
On the Theory and Practical Application of Electrical Magic
A Treatise by Lord Idhren Lavellan
Second Edition
"I took the liberty of working in some of the corrections from your personal copy. That's what makes it a second edition," Dorian commented flippantly, as though unaware of the whirlwind of emotions running through his lover's heart. "And a short introduction explaining why the first edition was published under the wrong name."
"I…" Idhren stammered, shockingly at a loss for words. "How…? Why?"
"Well the 'how' was relatively simple," Dorian shrugged. "I merely asked Varric to put me in touch with his publisher. Turns out they were more than happy to produce a personal gift for the Inquisitor. And if you're pleased with the printing they are eager to move forward with a full run and publication."
Idhren could barely tear his eyes off the cover, but he did at the mention of publication. "It's published?" he asked stupidly. This wasn't just a token printing for Idhren's personal sense of closure?
"If you want it to be," Dorian replied, like it was obvious. "You didn't think I would go through all the trouble and let no one else see it? Besides, with your southern mages now running amok they could use more quality literature."
Once more Idhren stared down at the book in his hands, ran his fingers over the embossed words. His work published under his own name. Dorian had done all this for him? It must have taken weeks – months – to re-write the manuscript, and then to convince the publishers to print it. In his entire life, no one had ever gone to such effort for Idhren's benefit. He tore his gaze from the book once more and looked up to meet Dorian's eyes, his own already stinging with unshed tears. "Amatus," he choked out past the lump in his throat, and then threw his arms around Dorian, still clutching the book in one hand as he hugged the man as tight as possible. "Thank you."
"I thought you might like it," Dorian chuckled, returning Idhren's embrace.
"I love it," Idhren breathed, still overwhelmed and still clinging to Dorian. This was by far one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for him. Even if Dorian had gotten only a token printing for Idhren's personal collection this would have been a gift greater than anything he could ask for. "How can I ever repay you?"
Dorian laughed again. "Consider it returning a favor," he replied. "Your book for my birthright."
Idhren sniffled unattractively as he forced back the overwhelming surge of emotions roiling through him. He almost protested that this was not the same, but he realized that wasn't the point. "That makes us even, then," he murmured.
"For now, at least," Dorian confirmed. He pulled away again. Not out of Idhren's arms, but enough to look down at him and tilt the elf's chin up until their eyes met. Idhren's glistened with unshed tears, wide and vivid violet, the first thing that had drawn Dorian to him all those years ago. "Those are happy tears, I hope," he said.
"For now, at least," Idhren parroted.
Dorian chuckled and leaned down to kiss him briefly. "Well, I may be going away very soon, but we still have all afternoon to ourselves," he murmured against Idhren's lips. "I think we should make the most of it, don't you?"
All afternoon, all night, and then a few days on the road. It wasn't nearly long enough for Idhren's liking, but it would have to do. He tossed the book onto the sofa, he could read through Dorian's additions after the man was gone, for now he would make use of every last minute they had together. So he leaned up to capture Dorian's lips again. "Something else to remember you by?" he teased.
"Multiple things, if I have anything to say about it," Dorian replied.
Idhren's pulse quickened, "Promises, promises," he purred, and began pushing the man backwards toward the bed.
The port of Jader was crowded and bustling. As a trade port it was busier even than the capitol, facilitating most of the trade with Ferelden and the eastern Free Marches. Even now, in the dead of winter, dockworkers rushed about, calling to each other as they hauled cargo and brought in ships. Nothing would stop the commerce here short of the sea icing over, and Idhren had never heard of that happening. The air was bitter cold and smelled of fish and wet rope. A biting wind swept in off the sea and made Idhren pull the fur lining on the collar of his cloak closer around his face. His nose and the tips of his ears were red from the cold and the stinging wind and he'd given up trying to keep his hair out of his eyes.
"You know," he commented, fidgeting with the seams on his gloves, "It's still not too late to put this all on hold until spring."
Standing beside him, Dorian had his arms wrapped around himself, bundled as tightly into his cloak as he could manage. Before them a ship rocked casually with the ebb and flow of the waves, ropes creaking with each small movement. "Don't tempt me," Dorian commented. His carefully coifed hair was already windswept, but for once he didn't seem to care. Instead he was watching the sailors running about on deck with thinly concealed dread.
"Feeling seasick already?" Idhren asked, teasing but also sympathetic.
"It's as though my stomach knows what I'm about to put it through and it's decided to get a jump on things, maybe empty itself before I even leave solid ground," Dorian complained.
"Do you have those herbs I gave you?" Idhren asked.
"Yes, yes," Dorian assured, patting a pouch hanging from his belt. "I suppose we'll see whether your elvish folk remedies are worth anything."
Idhren sniffed. "I'll have you know that I've scientifically corroborated the beneficial effects of elfroot and mint on nausea. Just because it's a folk remedy doesn't make it wrong."
"You trying it once and it working isn't scientific and you know it," Dorian groused. A dockworker pushed past them, a burly, filthy man carrying on his shoulder a basket that smelled pungently of rotting fish. Dorian turned slightly green.
"I performed an experiment," Idhren argued, bringing a gloved hand up to block his nose and mouth until the smell could dissipate. "If you would like to support my findings with an experiment of your own, now seems like a good time to start."
"Yes, I think you've made your point," Dorian said, voice stiff and a little choked. He reached again for the pouch on his belt, but before he could open it a sailor came jogging down the dock toward them, fresh off the ship they were waiting for, and waving to catch their attention.
"Ship's ready to depart, m'lords," the boy announced. Because up close he was clearly no more than fifteen. "Cap'n says we need to shove off within the hour to catch the tide."
Dorian pursed his lips a moment and then plastered on a polite smile. "Thank you, I'll be along shortly," he assured. The sailor nodded and ran off again on some other last-minute errand. Dorian took another look at the ship and let out a long sigh, herbs and nausea both momentarily forgotten. "This is it, then."
"You can still turn back," Idhren reminded him.
Dorian gave him a sideways glance, and Idhren gave him a sheepish shrug in reply. "All my things are already aboard," Dorian said.
"We can buy you new things," Idhren replied.
"You are making this exceedingly difficult," Dorian told him.
Idhren let his gaze drop to the ground, studying the water stained timbers beneath his feet. A wave of guilt washed over him. "I'm sorry." Then he reached out and grasped Dorian's hand, tangling their gloved fingers together one last time before they were parted. "Write to me," Idhren said, looking up again, and it was not a request, "As soon as you arrive. I want to know that you're safe."
"Of course," Dorian promised. "You do the same. Tell me of all the wild adventures you're having, and how terribly you miss me."
Idhren laughed softly. "I don't expect there to be quite so many adventures these days," he replied, "But the latter I can certainly do." He reached up to cup Dorian's face between his hands, then rose up on his toes to press their lips together. Uncaring for the crowded dock on which they stood, or the people that walked past, he kissed Dorian slowly, sweetly, desperately. One last parting kiss that Idhren tried to sear into his memory so that he would not soon forget the feel of Dorian's lips, the smell and taste of him. When they parted he let his heels fall back to the ground and offered the man a melancholy smile, which Dorian returned with one of his own. "Your turn to change the world now," he said, letting his arms fall to his sides once more and taking a step back. "Do me proud, amatus."
"Was there ever a doubt?" Dorian asked in reply. He leaned down to press one last chaste kiss to the corner of Idhren's mouth. "I will miss you, amatus," he added, soft enough for only Idhren to hear.
Idhren flushed a little, despite himself. "Go on, then," he mumbled, gently pushing the man toward the waiting ship. "Before I cry, or do something equally sentimental and pathetic."
Dorian chuckled softly, said one final farewell, and then headed off down the dock, leaving Idhren standing alone amidst the crowd, watching until the man disappeared onto the ship. He remained standing on the docks a little while longer, breathing in the sea air and staring at the ship. Shortly the sailors began bustling about the deck with even more purpose than before, untying ropes and climbing into the rigging. There was no sign of Dorian among them, likely below deck in his cabin in order to stay out of the way. A part of Idhren wished that were not the case, but another part was glad that he would not be tempted to watch until he was completely out of sight. He turned his back on the boat purposefully, reminded himself that this was not forever, and that Dorian could do more good work in Tevinter than he could here. And he wound his way through the crowds back toward the city stable.
Unsurprisingly, he found Cole already waiting when he arrived. The spirit boy was standing in front of the stall where Dorian's horse was housed, watching as the animal chewed lazily at the hay at its feet, he didn't even look up when Idhren arrived and came to stand next to him. "She doesn't realize he's gone," Cole said after a moment. "She won't until we leave and he's not here."
"You talk to horses now, too?" Idhren asked him.
Cole shrugged. "You don't like it when I hear you," he said. "Even though I can't help it sometimes."
"I know you can't help it," Idhren assured him. And he didn't mind the boy listening in on his thoughts from time to time; talking with Cole had helped him on several occasions. He just didn't like it when the boy announced his innermost thoughts to the world. "I'm glad you decided to come along."
The boy hummed in acknowledgement, but didn't respond. He continued to watch the horse eat, shifted from foot to foot. Idhren reached out over the stall door and patted the animal's neck gently. Dorian had been riding this same horse since before they even reached Skyhold. It was one of the lucky few to have escaped Haven during the fighting and wander back when everything had calmed down. So the gelding probably would notice the absence of his usual rider. Whether that made the horse sad Idhren was uncertain. Were they capable of such feelings?
"How is he doing?" Idhren asked, the words slipping from his mouth without really meaning to.
Cole was silent for a while. He tilted his head to the side and looked off into the distance as though he was listening to something very faint that he could barely hear. As far as Idhren knew that was exactly how Cole's abilities worked. "Leaving is hard," he said after a while. "Hard like letting him walk away years ago. That was better for him then, is this better now? But I have to try, do the right thing, he taught me that…" Cole trailed off and was quiet again for a brief moment before concluding, "He doesn't like the sea."
Idhren laughed despite himself. "No, he doesn't," he confirmed. Seasick within an hour. That was tragic and yet predictable. But he felt reassured after hearing Cole's words. "Shall we find the others, then?" he asked, "And head back to Skyhold?"
"Yes," Cole replied. "I'd like that."
The trip back to Skyhold was a little bit lonely, but Idhren had good company to distract him from Dorian's absence. And he had traveled without the man often enough in the past year that going to sleep in an empty tent was not too difficult, even if he longed for the added warmth Dorian's presence would provide on winter nights. Dorian's absence was easily overlooked on the road. But not at Skyhold.
The castle felt as though there was a piece of it missing, a void that Idhren could not pinpoint but felt with every fiber of his being.
The library felt empty and cold and foreign. The tavern's usual bright cheer seemed muted and dull. The mage tower was less an escape than a prison, even the students could not seem to raise his mood.
His bed was far too large and far too empty.
In order to avoid these familiar haunts and the distressing feelings they now aroused in him, Idhren threw himself into his work. Meetings, diplomats, fake smiles and pleasantries, trade agreements, tithes, scouting reports, training sessions, and an endless amount of paperwork.
He could not feel sad or lonely if he did not allow himself a spare moment to think about the void that had opened up in his life and in his heart.
But he had not felt this lonely since he had left the Circle of Vyrantium.
2 Haring, 9:42 Dragon
Dorian,
This letter may arrive in Minrathous before you do, because I have long suspected Leliana's couriers to be in possession of time magic.
I hope you've survived the journey. I can only imagine the state you must be in after so long at sea. I have to tell you, the image my mind conjures is not a flattering one, but I shall keep it to myself. If, by some horrid twist of fate, the herbs didn't help at all I can only assume the effect is unique to elven physiology.
Is Minrathous all that you remember? I've only been the once and I fear my memory of that trip has grown hazy over time. I recall being rather amazed by the size of it all, and by the Senate. Have you had a chance to visit? Will they even allow you in? I suppose you do have Magister Tilani to vouch for you at the moment, if she's willing to let a rebellious heretic cling to her skirts, that is.
While I'm eager to hear about everything you're getting up to, I'm afraid I have some news you may find distressing, but which will explain why I seem so impatient in writing to you: I'm going to be away from Skyhold for a while.
It couldn't be avoided forever. I did enjoy my brief vacation while it lasted, however.
I'll be heading off to the rather ominously named Hissing Wastes with the usual lot. Far off in western Orlais, beyond even the Approach and, apparently, an even worse sort of desert. I'm giddy with anticipation, as I'm sure you can imagine.
But this means I likely won't be able to receive your letters for some time. I'll be away for a month at the very least, and that is being wildly optimistic about what we'll find there. The journey alone, even with established camps all the way to the Approach, will take weeks. I won't receive your letters, and I expect I won't be able to send anything back from such a remote place, so don't work yourself into a state if you don't hear from me for a time. I'm perfectly fine. And if something were to happen, I'm certain Josephine would inform you as fast as humanly possible. Faster, actually.
I am fine, though, and things down here are as they always have been. Save that I miss you terribly.
Don't stop writing just because I will be away. I look forward to a stack of letters upon my return detailing everything about Minrathous and the work you're beginning. Don't be discouraged if it starts off slow. Remember when everyone thought the Inquisition was just a bunch of rebellious, power hungry heretics?
Yours,
Idhren