The ensuing twenty-four hours passed in a blur. Dorian spent most of his time in Josephine's cabin, watching over Seth. Ellana was his silent partner in this endeavour, and the two of them took turns trying to cool Seth's fever with a wet cloth while Vivienne's healers did what they could. Dorian set foot above decks precisely once, to take Maggie for a quick turn, and it was not a pleasant experience. He could feel the eyes on him from every corner of the crowded vessel, the silent questions pressing in on him like a physical weight. Thankfully, a dark look from Divine Victoria was all it took to keep the others at bay. Cassandra knew Dorian was in no state to cope with well-meaning platitudes, and presumably wished to avoid seeing anyone flung overboard by a cranky mage.
He was awakened sometime just after dawn, having fallen asleep in his chair. They'd arrived, apparently, and Dorian emerged from belowdecks expecting to find the bustle of a busy port. Instead, he found himself looking out a private quay, over which loomed the grandest keep he'd seen on Fereldan shores. The lord and his seneschal awaited them on the pier. Cousland, Dorian's numb brain supplied. Teyrn Fergus Cousland. An old acquaintance of Josephine's apparently, through someone called Oriana. She explained all this as they rowed to shore, but Dorian wasn't really listening, and he sleep-walked his way through the introductions, murmuring the appropriate banalities like a Tranquil while his eyes tracked Seth being bundled up the steps toward the keep.
"Magister Pavus?"
Dorian blinked, forcing himself to focus on the man before him. A striking fellow, dark-haired and bearded, built like a warrior. His eyes were fringed with laugh lines, but a shadow came into them as he met Dorian's gaze, and a glimmer of recognition passed between them. It was more than sympathy. This man had known true grief.
"I asked if you would like the servants to draw you a bath," Teyrn Cousland repeated gently.
Heat flashed to Dorian's cheeks. He couldn't even imagine what he must look like right now. What a wonderful impression of House Pavus he was making – with Ferelden's highest noble, no less. His ancestors would be screaming at him from beyond the Veil, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "I'd rather stay with him, if you don't mind."
"Of course. But I'd urge you to take care of yourself, Magister Pavus. You can do nothing for him right now, but when he wakes, you'll want to be strong for him. For his sake as well as your own."
"He's right, Dorian." Josephine put a hand on his arm. "When the Inquisitor wakes, he should see his loved ones looking well."
"And you need rest," Cassandra added, her gaze taking in Dorian and Ellana. "Both of you."
"If you like," Cousland said, "we can install you in one of the rooms next to the Inquisitor, and have everything you need brought to you. You needn't stray far from his side."
Dorian exchanged a look with Ellana. She nodded wearily, and the two of them let themselves be led away while the rest of their companions rowed ashore.
The room where they installed him was large and tastefully furnished, at least by Fereldan standards. He washed and shaved and did his best to choke down a bit of food, but he drew the line at sleeping; as soon as he felt human again, he went straight next door, where he found Vivienne examining Seth's wound with a worried look.
She peeled back the bedclothes for Dorian to see, and he sucked in a breath. The infection had spread far, covering almost half the elf's torso. His narrow chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, and his skin gleamed with sweat. "We are running out of time," Vivienne said.
"The potion. Do you have the ingredients?"
"Of course. The teyrn's people were wonderfully efficient in gathering the herbs I required. I administered the first draught not five minutes gone. But I have never tested the potion before. I cannot say how long it will take to work, or even how many doses. And the Inquisitor does not have long, as you see."
Dorian swallowed against a dry throat. "You should give some to Ellana as well. She was exposed a couple of days ago. Just a pinprick, and I don't think she suffered any ill effects, but it's better to be safe."
"Very well. You will stay with him, I presume? Try to keep him cool. And…" She paused, an uncharacteristically soft look coming into her eyes. "Talk to him, my dear. He may take comfort from the sound of your voice."
Dorian reached for the flippant reply – Of course he will. Everyone takes comfort from my dulcet tones – but it just wouldn't come. All he could do was nod weakly, perching at the edge of Seth's bed and dipping a cloth in a basin of cool water. He folded it and laid it against Seth's brow, pushing back matted locks of silver hair. The elf looked oddly peaceful in spite of his ashen colour, and Dorian found himself stroking his hair, lingering over those beloved features in a way he hadn't been able to in a long, long time.
Talk to him. But what should he say? If you die on me, I'll kill you did not seem like quite the right note to strike. "I need you to wake up," he murmured instead. "I need you to come back to me. I need you to…" He closed his eyes against the sting of tears. "I need you, Seth."
The door creaked, and Dorian sat up a little straighter, blinking quickly. Ellana came in, Maggie padding alongside. She paused at the foot of the bed, as though she was afraid to see what had become of her brother in her absence. "How is he?"
Dorian considered giving her a comforting answer, but she deserved the truth. "I don't know. Vivienne gave him a draught of the potion a few minutes ago, but I imagine it will be some time before we know how effective it will be."
"Do you think he's in pain?"
"He doesn't seem to be. Not now, at any rate."
Maggie approached the bed and sniffed at her master. She licked his fingers, and when he failed to stir, she whined. Then she jumped up on the bed, and Dorian didn't have the heart to stop her, letting her curl up at Seth's feet.
Ellana folded her arms tightly over her chest and shifted from foot to foot, looking over her brother's ragged form. "Dorian, would you…?" She faltered, swallowing hard. "Would you wash him? He's covered in the Deep Roads, and…"
"Of course."
She sucked in a jagged breath. "Thank you. He would hate to be left like this. He was always so…" Then she broke down entirely, covering her face as she succumbed to a silent sob. Dorian started to rise, but she waved him off. "I'm all right," she said, scrubbing her tears away. "I'll wait outside. Are you sure you can manage on your own?"
"I'm sure." Dorian tried for a smile. "Neither of you needs the trauma of you seeing your brother naked."
She gave a shaky laugh and headed outside, leaving Dorian to strip off what remained of Seth's filthy clothing and wash him down with the cloth. He took his time, lulled into a sort of trance by the methodical movements. The whisper of the cloth against Seth's skin, the gentle patter of water in the basin as he wrung it out. It was surreal, doing this. Like going back in time – but not quite. The elf was so much thinner now. There were scars Dorian didn't recognize, not all of them fresh. And of course the amulet that once rested against Seth's chest – the interlocking halla horns that promised one day they would be married – that was long gone, locked away in a box in Minrathous. Dorian couldn't help pressing a kiss to Seth's chest, in the spot where the amulet would have lain. The elf's skin was cool against his lips, his heartbeat strong and steady. That was a good sign, surely? "You're going to be all right, amatus," he whispered.
A prayer, or a promise? A little of both, perhaps.
The elf's body twitched, and he murmured Dorian's name.
Dorian sat bolt upright, scanning the elf's face intently. Seth's eyes moved under the closed lids, as if he was dreaming. Lines of pain were forming around his eyes, and in the furrows between his brows. Something was happening, but whether good or ill, Dorian couldn't say.
"Dorian."
"I'm here." Pulling the bedclothes up to Seth's waist, he called for Ellana. "I'm here," he repeated softly as the younger Lavellan rushed into the room.
"What's happening?"
"I don't know. Fetch Vivienne."
By the time the Grand Enchanter and her healers arrived, Seth was in agony, writhing and screaming just as he'd done when the Anchor began its meltdown all those years ago. Indeed, the throbbing web of red along his side reminded Dorian more than a little of the blighted elven magic that had robbed his beloved of his left hand. Ellana couldn't look, covering her mouth and turning away, but Dorian couldn't look anywhere else, clutching Seth's face in both hands and murmuring comforting words over and over.
"I can't do anything for him," said the healer Ashai. "But I believe what we're seeing is actually an improvement."
Dorian scowled over his shoulder. "Pray, how is his being in terrible pain an improvement?"
"I believe it's a side-effect of the potion working against the red lyrium. The infection is fighting back, but it's losing. I think we should give him another dose, Grand Enchanter. Right away."
"When I desire your advice, my dear, I'll ask for it." Despite this remonstration, Vivienne did administer a second dose, taking advantage of Seth's semi-conscious state to pour a foul-smelling draught down his throat. Almost immediately, the glow beneath his flesh dimmed, and his frantic writhing settled into tossing and turning. It's working, Dorian thought, allowing his heart to hope at last. Seth was still visibly in pain, but the fever had broken, and as they watched, he settled back into a fitful sleep.
Ellana let out a long breath and whispered a prayer in elven, pushing her hands through her hair just as her brother did when he was reaching his limit. Vivienne's eyes met Dorian's, and he knew they were having the same thought.
"Ellana, my dear, you are in dire need of some fresh air. Come, take a turn about the gardens with me. It will allow us to become better acquainted." When Ellana hesitated, she added, "Your brother is in good hands, and besides – we need to fix some more potion for you. I understand you were exposed briefly in the Deep Roads?" Without waiting for a reply, she looped her arm through Ellana's and practically dragged her out of the room.
Dorian was more than a little envious of that fresh air, but he had no intention of leaving Seth's side. Especially not when the elf was still murmuring his name, his brow creased as he clutched the bedclothes with white knuckles. "I'm here," Dorian whispered again, and when Seth reached for him, he crawled under the covers, drawing the elf's body against his and wrapping his limbs around him comfortingly. "I'm here, my love. I'm not going anywhere."
Gradually, Seth settled, and for the first time in more than two years, Dorian fell asleep with the man he loved in his arms.
He couldn't have said how long they slept, but it was nearing dark outside when Maggie's head jerked up at the foot of the bed, and she growled protectively. A servant had slipped into the room, but he didn't stay long, quietly setting a tray of food on the sideboard before withdrawing. Then Dorian realized someone else was in the room. Ellana sat near the window, watching them in silence. Dorian was still twined around Seth, and he started to stir, embarrassed, but Ellana whispered, "Don't. Let him sleep."
"How does he look?" Dorian whispered back.
Ellana scanned her brother's face, and she smiled through a shimmer of tears. "He looks beautiful. You both do."
Relief flooded Dorian's breast, so much that he was almost giddy with it. "Well, of course we do. We are two exceptionally lovely men. But I'm asking if he looks well."
She snorted and knuckled a tear away. "You're an ass."
"So I've been told."
"He looks a lot better. There's colour in his cheeks again. But I didn't check the wound. I was afraid to wake him."
Gently, Dorian peeled the sheet back to Seth's waist, and the air left him in a rush. The ghastly web of red that had once covered the elf's flank had retreated almost entirely, radiating only a few inches from the wound itself. What remained no longer glowed, looking more like a rash than anything else. And a scar had already begun to form over the stab wound, its healing vastly accelerated by Ashai's magic.
"Thank the Creators," Ellana breathed.
Cool air slipped in through the open window, bringing gooseflesh to Seth's skin; Dorian drew the covers back up.
"Should I close the window?"
"No, thank you. He'd want it open."
An enigmatic smile flitted across Ellana's face, and she rose. "I'm starved. Would you like to join me?"
"I'll be along in a bit." It was a lie and they both knew it, but she pretended to believe him, slipping out the door and closing it behind her.
Now that he could breathe again, Dorian let himself bask in Seth's nearness. In the feel of him, and the scent; in the luxury of wondering what he would say when the elf woke up. His eye fell upon the scar on Seth's left shoulder, the mark left on him by the trio of human hunters, and he kissed it gently. As difficult as it had been to hear that tale, he was glad to know where the scar came from. Every new piece of intimacy was a treasure to him. He loved that scar fiercely, and he kissed it again – a little too fiercely, perhaps, because the body in his arms stirred, and a moment later Seth rolled over.
Blue-green eyes met Dorian's, peering at him through a screen of silver hair. "Hi," the elf murmured.
A warm ache spread through Dorian's chest. "Hi," he whispered, and he could only imagine the look of longing that must have been in his eyes.
Not that Seth was in any condition to notice. Already, his eyelids were drooping again, though he was clearly fighting it.
"Sleep, amatus," Dorian whispered, brushing the silver hair from his forehead.
Seth fought for a moment longer, but then he surrendered; his eyes closed, and his breathing smoothed out. Dorian watched him for as long as he could before he too surrendered, knowing the elf would be waiting for him in his dreams.