Summary: Job done but Serana has time to kill and exploring Skyhold is first thing on her list, meeting its inhabitants rather lower down. But when one of them proves to be being less than honest, there's consequences to face for both him and Miraak himself as they both have to confront what it means to be a good person and how to find redemption.
A/N: I may ship Serana and Blackwall. Maybe. Either way, they seem to be getting on... only it does mean a certain quest is going to run a little differently. Also Miraak getting infected with morals and hating it is always good for a laugh.
Warnings for porn at the end - sort of. Miraak and Dorian doing a scene, except Miraak wants some hardcore pain and punishment, and Dorian's more of a fluffy sadist and... I like the way it turned out anyway.
So this was Skyhold. Serana had to admit, it was impressive. On a par with her own childhood home, or would be when all the construction work was finished anyway. It also lacked a stable of thralls and body parts all over the Great Hall tables.
Somehow Serana didn't see that as a downside. Miraak had shown her to a room just off the balcony overlooking the courtyard, with her sleeping box installed, a door that bolted from the inside and a promise the servants were leaving her alone and she'd have privacy.
He'd left for the tavern, still excited about him and Dorian being uncles, and that was something she never thought she'd see, Liriel's terrifying nemesis being excited over baby Dragonborns.
Evil? This man was not evil. This man was a sentimental softie. A pragmatic one with a ruthless streak who didn't seem to know when to stop, but a softie nonetheless.
Serana knew what her own father had been like. Now there had been a ruthless power-seeker. She'd expected Miraak to be the same. But no. Here he was, meeting a younger Dragonborn and seeing not a bitter rival but a younger brother to be fussed over, and he'd gone out of his way to find the man's birth mother. And on learning there was a Dragonborn child, he'd been both worried about its safety and ridiculously excited about a child to fuss over.
Miraak liked kids, it turned out. Miraak probably wanted some of his own. He'd probably picked the wrong partner for that, but Serana had a feeling he'd find a way. He seemed to genuinely love Dorian anyway. Serana had had no sense whatsoever of Miraak seeing his partner, his family, as a means to an end.
Maybe her father had been like that once. Maybe. Only Serana was having a hard time remembering Harkon being as casually affectionate as Miraak had been with Dorian tonight. And Skyhold itself seemed calm and content, with none of the politicking and intrigue that had plagued her father's court. Miraak had no serious rivals for power, advisors and an inner circle that mostly backed him, and his people seemed pleased, no, happy to be here and proud to serve Andraste's Herald.
Serana avoided the tavern but she did take a walk, exploring the grounds, and finding herself staring up at the enchanted glowing eye and sword emblem on Skyhold's main keep.
Symbol of the Inquisition. Blazing magically for all to see. Seemed exactly like the sort of thing Miraak might like. Overdone, impossible to ignore, screaming for attention and demanding all look at his power – very, very Miraak.
Serana shook her mind. Men. She was sure there were some who were modest and humble and didn't demand the world worship them, but Miraak was clearly not one.
"Admiring our Herald's handiwork?"
Serana started, not having heard anyone come up behind her. The speaker turned out to be a man in his forties maybe, human, pale, bearded, about the same height she was but with broad shoulders, dressed in a casual gambeson. Not carrying weapons, but with that build, Serana was sure he knew how to use them.
"He did that himself?" Serana said, surprised. "Wow. I mean… I can believe he'd order it but not that he'd do it personally."
The man laughed, eyes crinkling and Serana found herself smiling in response because that smile made his entire face practically shine.
"If it helps, he did have a crowd of people looking on adoringly at the time. They'd just made him Inquisitor. I think he felt he ought to do something to impress them."
"Did it?" Serana had to ask. Her new friend looked as if he was thinking before answering.
"It definitely impressed. A bit showy if you ask me, but I can't deny it was what we needed to see. It's what the Inquisition needed, after Haven. A reminder our Herald's got power to match Corypheus. I daresay a reminder the Maker sent a mage in our hour of need didn't go amiss either. I don't know if he'd already made his mind up about supporting mage freedom at that point, but it ended up being the natural follow-on."
Serana had heard about the mage-Templar war. She'd not even been surprised. Sounded like the next stage of the way humans saw vampires. She was however surprised to see this man sounding neutral on the subject. She'd heard it was rare for a non-mage human to be in favour of mages. Alistair had been mage-friendly but he'd also said he was a rarity – and that his own order believed in using any means necessary to fight the Blight and didn't treat their mage members differently.
"You're OK with mage freedom then?" Serana said, not hiding her surprise.
"Does that surprise you?" the man said, smiling again and Serana felt an unaccustomed emotion on seeing it again. Yes. That smile. She liked that smile. She'd like to see more of it.
"Well, yes, honestly, the way Liriel put it, everyone round here treats mages as one step up from demons," Serana said. "You don't look like a mage and you're not wearing the Templar uniform. Who are you?"
"Ah, where are my manners. Here I am, babbling on and taking up your time and I haven't even introduced myself. Warden Blackwall of the Grey Wardens, at your service. Our order doesn't treat its mage members any differently from the other members. Magic's useful, if you treat it with respect. And you can't do that if you don't give its practitioners a bit of basic respect and decency. You can't treat them like they're all criminals in waiting."
That… was unexpected, and Serana found herself warming to him.
"That's a sensible opinion from an Andrastian," Serana said. "Wonder of wonders."
Blackwall looked rather strangely at her on hearing that.
"We're not all raving fanatics – even the Chantry people aren't all like that. Ma'am, the way you said that – like you're not one yourself? And you know Liriel, the mystery elven Dragonborn. Mind telling me a bit more about yourself?"
A tactful way of asking what the bloody hell was a human woman who wasn't Andrastian doing here.
"Miraak invited me here to help with… a personal matter," Serana said, not willing to talk about her mission until Alistair had gone a bit more public about his mother. "My name's Serana. I'm a friend of Liriel's. She helped me deal with a difficult family situation and we've been friends ever since. It was me who came up with a way of tracking Miraak down. We were… looking for him."
"You were looking for Miraak?" Blackwall said strangely. "Way everyone tells it, he was stuck in the Fade for years. But Liriel turns up out of nowhere with her people and was looking for him. Why? Where'd she come from?"
"That's… complicated," Serana sighed. "And I only just met you and I'm not entirely sure I can trust you, in fact…"
Something had been off since he'd proudly declared he was a Warden. Because so was Alistair, and the taint's smell had been overwhelming to the point of nausea. She'd been surprised to see him again and smell no taint, but not displeased.
Blackwall had no taint whatsoever. Had Miraak shouted his out of him too?
"You're not carrying the Blight. Did Miraak shout it away like he did Alistair's?"
The look on Blackwall's face said it all. Blank stare, horrified expression – this man was no more a Warden than she was.
Blackwall took a step back, instinctively raising a hand to ward her off, and he glanced behind him to the stairs to the lower courtyard, clearly looking for escape routes. Serana instinctively bared her fangs and moved to stop him, sensing a threat. Sensing prey.
"No," Serana said firmly, covering ground faster than a mere human could manage and laying her hands on his chest. "I don't think so. You're lying about being a Warden. What else are you lying about. Talk, or I drag you to Miraak right now."
Blackwall stared at her, mouth dropping open as he raised his hands in surrender.
"Who are – what are you?" Blackwall gasped. "No human should be able to move that fast, and how strong are you?"
He was trying to wriggle out of her grasp – unsuccessfully. Serana's arms weren't even moving.
"I'm not the one who's lying to the Inquisition about who I am," Serana snapped. "Talk."
Blackwall stared into her eyes and even though she wasn't using vampiric powers on him, he sagged in her arms, defeated.
"Not here," he said softly. "The stables over there, I'm usually found there anyway, and it's deserted at night."
"Fine," Serana said, forgetting that a mortal woman would have shown at least a little hesitation about going to a deserted, darkened area alone with a man she'd only just met. "But don't try anything. You'll regret it."
She let him go and followed, eyes not leaving him, and if she'd forgotten to show any hesitation, it also didn't occur to her to pretend she couldn't see perfectly well where she was going either. Not a problem in the courtyard, but in the darkness of the stables, Blackwall got the shock of his life as he lit a torch and turned to see Serana already settled on a hay bale, watching intently.
"You found that in the dark?" Blackwall asked. Serana cursed quietly. Living in Castle Volkihar then shut up in a cave then around Liriel or in the Reach had clearly done a number on her ability to pass as mortal.
"I've got good night vision," Serana said warily. "And I'm still waiting for you to explain who you really are, not actually a Warden Blackwall."
"Aye, guess I owe you that," Blackwall sighed. "You, er, aren't worried I'll hurt you? Silence a witness and all that?"
Serana actually laughed at that.
"No," Serana said, not taking her eyes off him. "Look, we established I'm faster and stronger than you and can see better than you in the dark. And I'm a mage. I can do all sorts of things you wouldn't even know how to counter. I don't even have to kill you. All I have to do is get clear, find help, tell people you assaulted me, I need the Inquisitor, and once I get to Miraak, you're toast."
"And if I tell people you're some sort of maleficar?" Blackwall said shrewdly. All right, perhaps best not to underestimate him.
"Miraak gets called in to adjudicate, he tells everyone not to be so ridiculous, Lady Serana is nothing of the sort and a valuable Inquisition asset, and then he'll want to know more about you not actually being a Warden. He can sense Blight too close up. Once he knows to look, he'll know. And then your word's worthless."
Serana watched his shoulders fall in defeat as he turned away, resting his hands on the nearby workbench with some wooden creature on it, something part lion, part bird. She wondered if he'd carved it. He looked like he might have skill with that sort of thing. Serana didn't, but always admired those who had. It was a skill as worthy as any mage's, the ability to create something that endured. People came and went but buildings could last for centuries. Small wonder a vampire could get attached more to them than to people – and admire the hands that could build one.
"Are you going to. Go to him, I mean," Blackwall said softly.
"By all rights, I should," Serana admitted. "He invited me here for a job and is letting me stay. I can't keep something like this from him. But… there's something about you. I don't know what. You're not fighting back or trying to escape or resisting. Like you knew it would come to this one day."
"I knew it was a risk the moment I joined the Inquisition," Blackwall said, head still lowered. "I just thought I'd have longer. It wasn't calculated. I didn't plan any of this. Miraak had questions about the Wardens. I… didn't have answers. But I did know I couldn't just stand back and do nothing while the world fell apart. I offered my services, Miraak accepted. He was definitely an odd one. Never took that mask off. Until after he started seeing Dorian. It was one night while we were travelling. He just came out of the tent one night without it, looking awkward as anything, and wanted to know if he could eat with us. Dorian just smiles and acts as if it's nothing, but it really wasn't. He was different after that. More human. Less the Herald. It got a lot easier to work out what Dorian saw in him. He's had my loyalty ever since. And he's greeted me as a friend ever since."
"One who doesn't know who you really are," Serana said, wondering where this was going.
"We've both got pasts," Blackwall said bitterly. "The story on him is that he was snatched into the Fade by the Maker and was sent back to help in our hour of need, but the way he tells it, he was messing about with demon worship back in the day, royally fucked up and ended up being imprisoned by a demon lord until Corypheus of all people blasted a hole in the Fade for him to escape through. Most of us who joined early know that second version but the newcomers all think the Maker held him in his hands the whole time. The truth doesn't matter. What people need to believe, that's what's important."
"Bullshit," Serana said softly, but her voice cut straight through Blackwall's reverie, and he spun round, mouth opening as he started to speak, but Serana cut him off.
"You heard. I said bullshit. Miraak's told the truth to his inner circle, and if there's things you don't know, you either aren't as close as you think or perhaps you just need to ask. If people out there are embellishing, that's not his problem. You though. You're letting Miraak believe you're a Grey Warden when you really aren't. Is Blackwall even your real name?"
Silence as Blackwall lowered his head in defeat.
"Thought not," Serana said bitterly. "Give me some fucking answers, or I'm dragging you into that tavern and telling Miraak what I know, and do not think I can't do it."
Blackwall clearly remembered unyielding hands on his chest and unnatural reflexes and finally gave in.
"My name's Thom Rainier," Blackwall said, not meeting her eyes. "I'm a wanted criminal in Orlais. I was a soldier once, bloody good one too. Then this noble hired me and my men to ambush and kill this other noble while he was travelling from the capital to his estate. He promised me gold and a title of my own. Of course I said yes. I didn't realise he'd be travelling with his family. I…"
Even a millennia-old vampire couldn't help but flinch at that. Blackwall must have seen because he didn't linger on this point.
"Needless to say, it went to shit. Even Orlesians don't like the idea of kids dying. We were exposed as the culprits. Most of my men hung for it. I ran. I got away, far away, was heading for the Marches. I didn't care where I went, just out of Orlais. That's when I met him. The real Warden Blackwall. And before you ask, no, I didn't kill him. He recruited me for the Wardens. I'm still not sure why. He saw me deal with some local hoodlums who were harassing the waitress in a tavern. Must have impressed him because next thing I knew he was telling me about the Wardens. Even when I told him who, what, I really was, he still wanted to recruit me. Apparently a lot of Wardens were recruited from jails. It was a chance to atone, to leave your past behind and make up for it by saving the world from darkspawn. I won't lie, I was mostly just relieved to be able to stop running. But part of me wanted to believe I could be better. That there might be somewhere for even a wretch like me. We went to the Storm Coast. Apparently there were darkspawn pockets out there and we'd need a vial of their blood for the Joining ritual. Except it didn't go to plan. There were more than we thought. I survived. He didn't."
"Then what?" Serana said, although frankly she could guess. "Take it you never sought out a Warden base and told them what happened?"
"No," Blackwall said, shaking his head. Still not meeting her eyes. "I told you, I was still mostly a reprobate back then. I could have done the right thing. But instead I took his armour and his name and went out into Ferelden, telling people I was a travelling Warden. Warden Blackwall. No one argued. No one asked questions. As long as I turned up and dealt with problems, people were happy to see me. Lived like that for years. Had no intention of doing anything else. Got used to it after a while. Rather liked it. Travelling around Ferelden, helping people – it was more fulfilling than anything I'd done in Orlais. And then some arsehole blows up the Temple of Sacred Ashes and rips a hole in the world, there's demons everywhere, the mage-templar war renews with interest, there's refugees in need and bandits taking opportunities and more trouble than one man can handle alone. I'm doing what I can but it's not enough… and then this stranger in a golden mask wants to know if Wardens were involved. I had no answers but I knew I couldn't let this sort itself out. So I joined up. Everyone just took me at my word. Even Warden Alistair. Of course, he'd lost his own taint by the time I got introduced to him properly. Luck, I guess. Look, I didn't plan any of this. I was trying to do the right thing. Didn't count on you turning up and realising right away."
"I bet you didn't," Serana whispered, wondering what to do now. Despite everything, he wasn't a bad man at heart, it seemed. Not irredeemable. Trying to do the right thing. A criminal on the run – but they'd kill her too if they knew what she really was.
"So what are you going to do?" Blackwall asked, sounding utterly defeated. "Are you going to go to Miraak?"
"I don't see I have much choice," Serana sighed. "But… if we go together and we talk to him, tell him everything… he'll be more understanding if you tell him yourself than if he finds out. I can stop him killing you on the spot. And… he doesn't have the moral high ground, you know. You were right about his past. We weren't looking for him because we were worried about his wellbeing, Liriel was hunting him to bring him to justice. What stopped her was realising he was actually helping people. And realising he wasn't the worst thing over here and she didn't want the hassle of saving this place. Miraak's got his own atonement to carry out. And if he doesn't show any sympathy for you, perhaps I can make him."
"You can make Lord Miraak do what you want?" Blackwall scoffed, looking rightly sceptical of this. Well, when he put it like that, Serana obviously couldn't. But she understood the power of words, and if Miraak had a shred of decency, her chances of persuasion were good.
"I'm very persuasive," Serana told him. "Come on, let's move. We should get this over with."
Blackwall hesitated, and then stood up straight, eyes meeting hers, coming to a decision.
"Yes. Yes we should. Lead on, Lady Serana."
He held out his arm for her to take, and this was the oddest thing, linking arms with a man she might just be taking to his death. Still, for all that, she found herself liking it.
Serana left Blackwall outside the tavern while she went in to extract Miraak, blinking her night vision off as she walked in and found the light blinding her.
She found Miraak with one arm round Dorian and the other knocking back a tankard of ale, sharing a joke with a seven foot tall horned warrior with one eye and more scars than Serana had ever seen on one person. The warrior glanced her way and actually whistled.
"Damn! Are you new? Ma'am, if you're looking for company, I'm your man."
Serana wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. No. Just… no.
"I don't know, do you have a biting kink?" Serana snapped. She understood casual sex existed, of course. But she had no desire to try it herself.
To her surprise, the horned warrior actually looked thoughtful.
"For you, ma'am? I could get one."
Thank the Daedra Miraak had put his tankard down with more force than was strictly required.
"Iron Bull. Serana is my guest. We do not inconvenience my guests. Krosis, Serana. He does this with everyone. You said you weren't joining us, is something wrong?"
"Yeah, you might say that," Serana sighed, keen to get out of the place with the bright lights and the noise and the thudding heartbeats and blood scent everywhere. "Can we talk? In private?"
Miraak nodded, before downing the rest of his ale and patting Dorian as he got up.
"Of course. Excuse me, friends. Dorian, I'll see you later."
A pat on his lover's cheek and a kiss on the forehead, happy smile on his face at the contact, and then Miraak was following her out.
Serana hoped for his own sake Blackwall hadn't taken the opportunity to run… but there he was, back against the opposite wall, arms folded.
"Your Worship," Blackwall said quietly, not meeting Miraak's eyes.
"Warden Blackwall," Miraak said, still clearly in a good mood from the ale. "You know you can use my name."
"I know," Blackwall said, guilt all over his face and Miraak could hardly miss this.
The smile faded and the good humour of an Atmoran warlord went with it, leaving something rather more fearsome.
"What's wrong," Miraak said, voice low but the throb of the Thu'um audible to all and setting Serana's nerves on edge. Daedra knew what it was doing to Blackwall.
"We should go somewhere more private," Serana told him. "Blackwall needs to tell you something. It's important."
Miraak's gaze did not leave Blackwall… and then the anger faded to something much, much worse. Disappointment.
"What did you do," Miraak breathed and Blackwall flinched.
"We should do as the lady asks," Blackwall said, unable to meet that expression and Miraak rubbed his forehead, actually looking grieved and glancing back at the tavern. Needing moral support from Dorian? Perhaps. But Miraak sighed and led both of them off, leading them to his war room and shutting the door behind them.
"Talk," he said softly. "Did you hurt anyone here in Skyhold?"
"No," Blackwall said, standing at attention, his gaze focused on a point beyond his Inquisitor's shoulder. "It was before. Before I… I was a different man back then."
"You're not kidding," Serana sighed. "Miraak, he's not a Warden. There's no taint in his blood. I can't smell it on him, and trust me, it was obvious when we first met Alistair. So I asked him about it and… tell him what you told me, Blackwall."
Miraak's head had jerked up sharply, and whatever he'd expected, it hadn't been that.
"What? But Leliana had a whole file on him, Gordon Blackwall was a senior, veteran Warden, how can you not have…"
He'd made his way round the desk, closing the distance, hands on Blackwall's shirt as he got closer than he ever had before, head up against Blackwall's as he inhaled right next to Blackwall's neck… and then Blackwall was being flung back into the wall, mage armour being cast and electricity crackling in the air.
"No taint. You were never Joined. You're not… who. Who are you?"
"Miraak, no, don't kill him!" Serana cried, moving faster than any human should, and Blackwall looked up to see her silhouetted in the green cast of Miraak's mage armour and shock magic, and Blackwall cried her name. He was willing to face justice, but she shouldn't have to die for him!
"Serana no, don't… just let him kill me, my life's not worth it!"
Shock magic shutting off, and the atmosphere settled down.
"It's not the same if they ask for it," Miraak growled, lowering his hands. "Fine. I'll hear this lying cesspit out. And I will be verifying the details with Leliana. Trust me on this."
Serana lowered her hands and stepped away, actually helping Blackwall up and placing a protective hand on his shoulder.
Blackwall did not deserve this but he'd take it. Miraak had backed off at least, circling back behind the war table.
"Your real name," Miraak snapped. "I cannot keep calling you Motmahus Lo Vith, after all."
That was definitely not a compliment. Blackwall didn't blame him. He probably deserved it.
"Thom Rainier," Blackwall admitted, feeling a weight off his shoulders as he finally admitted it to his respected commanding officer. "I'm wanted in Orlais for murdering a noble and his family. I took coin from a supporter of Gaspard de Chalons to assassinate one of Celene's close supporters. The Callier massacre, look for information on that, you'll find more than you ever wanted to know. I didn't tell my men who we were killing, let them believe it was a legitimate army operation. I knew what I was doing. The only thing I offer in my defence is that I didn't know he'd have his wife and children with him. Too late to call it off by the time I realised."
Miraak had actually shivered at that, saying nothing and for a few seconds, doing nothing, shoulders just heaving. And then he roared, sweeping a pile of dossiers to the floor then turning away, and Blackwall had the horrible feeling Miraak was bloody crying.
"Why tell me this," Miraak gasped. "Why TELL me this?"
He rounded on Blackwall, face twisted in rage, a horror to behold.
Blackwall flinched and looked away, focusing on one of the windows.
"Serana found out and wouldn't let it go," Blackwall said softly. "Once someone knew, and I knew they knew… ah balls, living as Blackwall made it easy to forget. It was a different man did all that – I was a different man. Living as him, I could help people. Make the world a better place. Do the work he'd want me to be doing."
"He being?" Miraak asked, then he realised. "The real Blackwall, I take it. What happened to him. Did you kill him as well?"
"No!" Blackwall cried. "Maker, no, it was darkspawn did that. He recruited me for the Wardens despite knowing who I really was. He said he believed I still had honour in there somewhere, and I definitely still had my sword arm, and hanging me would be a waste. He wanted me for the Wardens, said my past would be wiped clean there. I could atone for what I'd done by helping save the world from the Blight. But he was killed by darkspawn before we made contact with the rest of the Order. It should have been me. He shouldn't have died saving a wretch like me. He was a good man. He had so much to offer the world. So… I took his name. Travelled Ferelden as a Warden recruiter, helping people. It was just a cover at first. But… the looks on people's faces. The gratitude. The trust. The hope. They paid me as well, of course. Sometimes handsomely. But that wasn't why I was doing it. The old me would have spent the coin on women or cards. What I didn't need for my own expenses went in Chantry offering plates instead. I'm not a devout man but I do believe. And seeing I was making a difference to them made all the difference to me. For the first time in my life, being Warden Blackwall… I felt like I was doing something with my life. Like I mattered. And then the world went to shit and in the middle of all that, there's you. The golden-masked man of mystery who fell out of the Fade and turned out to be the only one who could stand against the darkness. You turned up at my cabin, asking questions, and I'd seen your power was real by that point. I knew if anyone could help, it was you. I wasn't planning to join the Inquisition, it was an impulse. But you said yes, and so far, all I've seen you do is lead with bravery and honour. You're a fucking inspiration, Miraak, and you inspired me. You deserve to know the truth."
Miraak closed his eyes, shaking his head, walking back to the desk and resting his forearms on the desk, fingers entwined, and then he rested his forehead on his fists.
"I inspired you?" Miraak gasped, and was he laughing? Or… maybe crying? Or both? Blackwall couldn't tell and maybe neither could Miraak.
"My crimes are worse than yours," Miraak said softly. "There is nothing sacred or holy about me. I am no inspiration. I know you know about the youthful demon trafficking that got me stuck in the Fade but you don't know why Liriel was hunting me."
Miraak looked up and despite the tears glittering on his cheeks, he was smiling, a vicious evil thing that had nothing of goodness or holiness in it.
"I am a bastard of the first order," Miraak informed him cheerfully. "My original plan for escaping the Fade involved using the Thu'um to enslave an entire island so they could build the power conduits to open it and bring me home. Liriel foiled that, and she would have killed me too – and then Corypheus gave me an escape route. And the Inquisition had needs, it turned out. I was all set to rebuild my cult anew. And then you people… changed me!"
Miraak straightened up, teeth still gritted, and his scarf slipped, revealing the merest hint of a buckle underneath which was one hell of a thing to have under there, but who was Blackwall to judge. Maybe it was just part of the outfit.
"I know what it's like," Miraak whispered, those blue eyes boring into Blackwall's. "Helping people because you want to impress people, and then they look at you with gratitude in their eyes, and the adoration is fun at first but then it keeps happening and you realise you like it, and you don't even know how many little favours you've done before you realise you need it and… and then you meet this Grey Warden who keeps talking about honour and glory and how the world needs good men with swords to be the bulwark against evil and… you start believing it yourself. There's a reason I picked you, not Cassandra, to come to Redcliffe with me and to the Storm Coast, and why you and Varric were the next to unmask for after Dorian. Because Cassandra is unflinching justice, a moral tower who has never been tempted, never been impure. Never been corrupted. All she does is remind me what I am next to her. But you… you were a man with a past of some sort who did the right thing anyway. You always talked about the possibility of atonement and redemption. That your past didn't matter. There was always a right thing to do and you could always do it. You made me believe even I could be a hero, even though it was Dorian who gave me my reason to do it. You were the one inspiring me, Warden. And you… aren't even…"
For a moment Blackwall thought Miraak was going to hit him, but no. Miraak put his head in his hands and started laughing, laughing hysterically as he strode to the far end of the room, leaning back against the wall and laughing, head flung back, hair falling down around his shoulders and yes, definitely a buckled collar under that scarf.
Each to their own, and Blackwall fully intended to forget he ever saw that. Still, it was an insight. Miraak dealt with his own guilt by submitting to Dorian. Interesting. But not an option Blackwall had. Unfortunately.
Serana's hand resting against his chest, same height he was, slightly built but the strength in her grip – Blackwall didn't know how she got that way and didn't want to, but she wasn't a bad person, he'd swear to that. She had her own sense of honour and… hadn't he always liked the idea of a woman who could hold her own against him.
"Is he all right," he murmured to her. Serana shrugged.
"Worry about yourself," was all Serana said, her own eyes not leaving Miraak.
Finally he dried his eyes, irritably adjusted the scarf, and then grinned back at Blackwall, anger seeming to have faded.
"You spend your life getting good at bastardry and then these fucking arseholes start influencing you to be a better person and next thing you know, you're their fucking inspiration!" Miraak spat at him. "An inspiration, by the gods. Daedra take yo-"
And then Miraak's shoulders sagged and he shook his head.
"I can't even wish that on you. Bormahu ofan mul."
Silence and then Miraak shook himself down and seemed to pull himself together.
"Who else knows about this."
"No one," Blackwall said, glancing at Serana. "I only told Serana. No one else heard."
"It's true," Serana confirmed. "I would have heard an eavesdropper."
"Heard?" Blackwall said, confused. "How the bloody hell would you have heard them?"
Serana went pink, opening her mouth but it was Miraak who intervened.
"Never you mind that. Serana is not the wanted criminal here. So. No one but the three of us knows. Then we keep it that way. No one gains from knowing you're anyone other than Blackwall. Kyne knows I fucking didn't."
Miraak was glaring at him bitterly, and Blackwall could only look down in shame.
"No sir," was all Blackwall had to say to that.
"You two speak to no one of this," Miraak said firmly. "And I – I need to think. I need to ask Leliana about the Callier massacre and potential options. I won't tell her you're Rainier, but I need to know if this is something we can offer gold for in lieu of blood. Or if conscripting you in lieu of the gallows might work – ah fuck. We were using the Grey Warden treaties to justify that. Treaties you gave us and you're not even-!"
Not actually a Warden, which meant the treaties were void and the Inquisition potentially criminals for using them.
Blackwall realised in horror the masquerade had bigger consequences than just him.
"Alistair's one," Serana said, and Blackwall could kiss her for that little ray of hope. "And he's not just a Warden, he's a hero. He's Lyra's sidekick. You could still use the treaties if he's with you."
"We could," Miraak said thoughtfully, watching Blackwall anew. "Well then, not-Warden. I will explore the legal and political options. But in the meantime, we need you. You're of no use to me or anyone dead. So if it makes you feel better, consider yourself conscripted. You'll serve the Inquisition until Corypheus dies. After that – if there's an order of Wardens left to belong to, perhaps I'll give you to them. Under your real name, this time."
"Understood," Blackwall said, tone submissive but inside he could melt with relief. The burden was off him. Hiding… well, he still had to do that but it just felt less onerous now. Miraak knew. And Serana. And… he could still help. Still contribute something. Perhaps he wasn't as worthless as he thought. Perhaps… perhaps he could live as Thom Rainier and be a good person one day.
Perhaps he'd even earn Miraak's forgiveness one day.
"If I can ask a question," Blackwall said delicately. "Who in the Inquisition knows you were a wanted man before you turned up here?"
Miraak had every right to refuse to answer that one but to Blackwall's surprise Miraak did not unleash the Thu'um on him.
"Dorian," Miraak said, soft little smile on his face. "He nearly left me over it. In the end, I somehow managed to talk him into staying. I'm still not sure how and I thank Mara for it daily. He forgave me on condition I saved the world and lived as a better person. It was a promise I had no trouble making him. He made me confess to the Council. This was back in Haven. Cassandra was all for turning me in. Josephine was too shocked to know what to do. Leliana insisted the Inquisition needed me too much, and Cullen of all people sided with her. He said it would be bad for morale to tell people this and we had no other means of closing the rifts. It was actually Dorian who talked them round, he said the Inquisition was my chance to atone. That won Josephine over and Cassandra grudgingly agreed. All four made me Inquisitor anyway. They apparently believe me a reformed man. I am not arguing."
Mischievous little smile on Miraak's face, and Blackwall had to wonder.
"And are you? A reformed man."
"I'm not turning you in, draw your own conclusions," Miraak growled, eyes narrowing. "This fucking Inquisition has a way of doing that, you know. Making you be a better person, against your will, and fucking enjoying it! Ugh. It's horrific. I hate it. And I can't stop. And you're the worst fucking offender save only Dorian. Gods damn you."
Somehow the smile had come back.
"I'm almost remorseful," Blackwall told him, smile starting to reappear on his own face. "Buy you a pint later?"
"It's my ale and my tavern!" Miraak snapped. And then he nodded, accepting. "But I will take that drink. Ah, Thom. My Council gave me a chance, my lokaal gave me a chance. How can I not give you the same. Fight for me with honour, fahdoni, and I will do what I can about your past."
Blackwall nodded, feeling a lump in his throat as he realised Miraak had forgiven him. Miraak had his bloody back. The fucking Inquisitor had the same faith in him the real Blackwall had had.
The first person to use his real first name in years and it was Inquisitor Miraak, Andraste's Herald. Well, perhaps not really Andraste's Herald, who knew, but that didn't matter. Miraak was here and doing the right thing anyway, saving people, saving lives, even if he hated it. It didn't matter if Andraste didn't really send him here, if he was in reality an opportunistic tyrant who'd fled an entirely justified execution. He was here, now, being a good person… and he'd found it in him to show mercy to Blackwall.
Blackwall would not have seen that happening in a million years.
"Thank you, Your Worship," Blackwall managed to get out, wiping a tear from his eye. "You know, you're probably going to hate this but… despite everything you told me earlier… you're still an inspiration."
Miraak had been in the process of levitating dossiers back on to the table and promptly dropped one, going pink.
"I'm what?"
"Oh, you heard," Blackwall said awkwardly. "Still an inspiration. Not because you're perfect. But because you're not. Because you fell from grace about as far as it is possible to fall and here you are clawing your way back up again, determined to do better and be better. Even if you're mostly doing it to keep Dorian happy, you're still doing it. And that's the important thing. You, sir, are an inspiration to all of us filthy sinners down here."
Miraak was staring back at him, face stained scarlet and then hastily rearranged all the dossiers and pointed at the door.
"Out. And never speak of this again. Serana, thank you for bringing this to my attention. I almost wish I didn't know… but better to find out this way, I think. You're both dismissed. And Serana… enjoy the rest of your stay."
"I will. Thank you," Serana said, turning to leave, and then looking surprised to see Blackwall holding the door for her.
"Never let it be said I don't know how to treat a lady," Blackwall told her, bowing as he indicated for her to pass through.
Serana looked up then, odd orange eyes meeting his, strange look on her face, and then she smiled.
"Are you going to hold every door between me and the outside," Serana said, delightful little twinkle in her eyes.
"If you'll let me," Blackwall said, heart speeding up a little and Serana's eyes flicked to his chest. Almost like she could hear heartbeats.
That thought didn't do anything to calm him, quite the contrary.
"Oh, I'm always happy to let a nice gentleman look after me," Serana laughed.
Blackwall was in no way that. But looking after the fair Serana? He could definitely do that.
He caught Miraak's eye as he left, the Dragonborn Inquisitor clearly seeing what was going on here… but he saw no judgement there. Amusement, if anything. Blackwall nodded to him and slipped out, closing the door behind him.
Leaving Miraak with paperwork to arrange and slowly sort his head out, because this… this was too much even for him.
I should turn him in. It's the right thing to do.
Don't be absurd, we need him.
Actually, we don't, Alistair can do everything he can.
Miraak knew that and knew also it didn't matter. Blackwall – Thom – was one of his, and Miraak protected his own. That was all. Nothing else to it. Miraak was not a good person, because good people did not find out they had a wanted criminal in their ranks and decide to hide him from authority.
What does that make your Council then.
Pragmatists who needed their Herald. Even though he knew Cassandra had wanted to turn him in and Josephine had only agreed to save him on hearing he was trying to atone. That was all. Miraak truly wasn't a good man.
Miraak's hand went to his neck and the collar at his throat, remembering picking out outfits with Dorian and having them tailored with high collar options especially so he could wear this and hide it. The regular reminder he was Dorian's now. The reminder he was real, here, present, a steadying influence that soothed worries away.
It wasn't soothing him right now. No, he needed physical touch right now. He needed Dorian and he need to feel him.
Finishing in the war room, he swirled his fingers and waited for the Eye to come to him, hovering before his eyes, waiting patiently for his orders.
"Find Dorian and tell him to come to our quarters," Miraak murmured. "Make sure to call him Thuri. Tell him I need him."
The Eye sped off to pass on the message. Dorian's name for it, that. Ridiculous, but it had caught on. What the Eye had also started doing was responding to Dorian, snuggling up to him, responding to Dorian's touch… and on occasion to Dorian's power. Without Miraak consciously telling it to. Somehow it could tell that Dorian could have whatever he liked.
Miraak really should order it to respond to him and only him, but he'd seen it on Dorian's lap, vibrating away while Dorian petted it and whispered to it, and he hadn't the heart to do it.
So the Eye was like its master then. Bound body and soul to Dorian Pavus. Miraak didn't mind. Better him than Hermaeus Mora.
Time to retreat to the quarters. Dorian would be on his way soon, and Miraak needed to be ready. Tonight he needed to leave it all behind and just be Dorian's.
"You know, you can go back to the stables, you know. You don't have to stay with me."
Blackwall knew. But Lady Serana was, hands down, one of the most beautiful women he'd ever laid eyes on, and what was more, she knew who he was. Who he really was. Those orange eyes had looked into his, seen him for who he was… and she still seemed pleased to see him.
How could he not respond to that.
"But then you'd be alone," he pointed out. "I mean, if you'd prefer that, I can leave you be, of course. But it's not often we get charming company such as yourself in Skyhold."
"Oh, I doubt that," Serana laughed as they left the Great Hall and made their way down the steps. "There were plenty of people on the road here. Not just peasants either. We must have passed at least three of those masked nobles and their entourages."
Blackwall winced at the thought.
"Can't exactly call them charming, my lady. I know the court. It's finery on the outside, vicious backstabbing on the inside. Well. You know my story now. You know why…" Blackwall fell silent, closing his eyes and wondering if the axe might be about to fall after all.
The touch of Serana's hand on his as they both leaned against the wall overlooking the lower courtyard had a way of rousing him. It felt cold, or colder than he'd expected anyway, and Blackwall looked up, feeling wary without knowing why. At least until he looked into her eyes and saw only sympathy there.
"Are you all right," Serana said softly.
"No, but I will be," Blackwall sighed. "It's all right. It's not your fault. You were just trying to do the right thing. Come to think of it, you did do the right thing. It had to come out eventually. In a way, I'm glad it was like this. Means I have someone to talk to I don't have to lie to."
Serana's smile lit up the night like a third moon.
"That's a good thing to have. There's not many people I can be myself with either. I mean… there's a good reason for that but… it can be a lonely life sometimes. Less so since I met Liriel though, she's been great. Madanach too. But they've got each other and the kids. At the end of the night… I'm alone."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Blackwall said, not sure what else to say but knowing all too well how that felt. "Can't imagine someone like you wanting for company."
"Someone like me how?" Serana asked, raising an eyebrow. And now it was his turn to blush.
"Ah. Well. How can I put this. Beautiful women don't normally lack people wanting their company, let's put it that way. If you wanted to start a conversation with anyone in this keep, I don't think they'd turn you away. Apart from Dorian. He prefers male company even if he wasn't happily partnered up with our Herald."
"I had noticed that," Serana laughed. "Don't worry, I have no designs on him. Or Miraak for that matter. Or… look, romance and I aren't the best of friends. I've not had the best history. It's… probably best for everyone if I just don't get involved."
Now where had he heard that before.
"You're starting to sound like me," Blackwall remarked. "You're not wanted for anything, are you?"
That did get a laugh.
"No. But… you have to have figured out by now I'm not like other women."
"I did notice," Blackwall said warily. "You seem remarkably fearless for a young woman, even a mage. Also gifted with strength and speed above the norm and you can see in the dark. You shouldn't be stronger than me, but you are. Listen, I realise you only met me tonight and it wasn't the best introduction but… you listened to me and you helped. I won't betray your secret."
"It's not that simple," Serana said softly, staring out into the night. "You're right about me being a mage, but if the Templars found out what I really am, they wouldn't just have put me in a Circle. They would have executed me. I – I'm not a bad person. I don't think I am anyway. But what I am is dangerous. Most people turn away in disgust or run away in fear. Either or they think it's sexy. I can work with that, but still all they're seeing is what I am, not who I am. Any of my kind could give them the same."
"And what is your kind," Blackwall said, looking her over carefully and seeing nothing odd other than those strange eyes of hers.
Serana closed her eyes and shook her head, face looking utterly miserable.
"Don't ask me," Serana whispered. "Very definitely against your religion. It's one thing for strangers to turn from me in disgust but I'm starting to like you. Let's… let's not ruin it."
Blackwall couldn't imagine looking at that lovely face and being revolted but he knew not to push. So he let it go, offering to give her a tour of Skyhold instead.
Serana's smile in response was something he could definitely get used to.
When Dorian found Miraak, he was lying face down on the bed, boots off, topless, collar visible underneath the mane of hair.
Someone was feeling submissive clearly, but not the attentive drop-to-his-knees and serve type.
No, Miraak looked broken. Silently, Dorian indicated for the Eye to go and rest on the desk while he pulled his own outer clothing off and curled up behind Miraak, gently pulling hair back so he could see his face.
"Hello pet," Dorian murmured to him. "Is everything all right?"
"No," came the muffled response. "I'm a bastard, Dorian. Always have been. Always will be."
"That's not true," Dorian said, wrapping an arm round him. "You were probably adorable as a little boy."
"I was the village weird child even before I became a mage," Miraak said, staring into space. "As a young man, a self-centred prick. As a Dragon Priest, an unforgiving brute. As a husband… my own husband wanted to run in fear of me, and Saering was a Thurdinok – a Deathlord. That's one of the highest ranks in the army, and his skill merited it, he was no coward! But he feared me. You know what happened after he died. As Herald and Inquisitor I had some small hope of doing better, being better. But I am not. I am failing at heroism, Dorian."
Dorian had noticed no such thing, in fact from what he'd seen of Inquisition operations, Miraak was as well-regarded as ever and day to day operations were revolving around influence gathering, problem-solving and generally expanding their reach. No war crimes, no razing of cities, no massacring of the innocent. It was all rather wholesome.
"What happened, Miraak, you were in such a good mood earlier!" Dorian said, surprised. "What… was it Serana? Did she do something to you?"
"No, she is and remains a vampire of honour," Miraak sighed. "Damn it, Dorian, that's the problem. She uncovered that one of our number was lying about who he was, we questioned him and he confessed to being a wanted criminal."
"And you had to arrest him, of course…" Dorian saw the look on Miraak's face and realised no, he'd done no such thing.
"He's still walking free in Skyhold and I'm going to ask Leliana in the morning how we might make the criminal charges go away," Miraak sighed. "Because I'm fond of the man and apparently a complete bastard still. Ah Dorian. Did I do the right thing? Should I have arrested him?"
"Probably yes, but…" Dorian rubbed his head, because while Miraak really should have arrested whoever this was, had Miraak truly been an amoral bastard still, he wouldn't be feeling guilty over it. "You must have had your reasons. Can I ask who it was? What he did?"
"Best you don't know," Miraak said, shaking his head. "It's enough I have to bear the guilt. But… it was years ago, Dorian. He's been living a reformed life ever since. He's not just been living under a different name and avoiding the law, he's been out there helping people. You would not know he'd done what he did. He's in the Inquisition because he wanted to help save the world. He's a good man, Dorian. What good would sending him to the gallows do."
Dorian remembered a council meeting, his own words, wanting to know what purpose killing Miraak for his previous crimes would do when they needed him, and realised where this was going.
"You are seeing yourself in him," Dorian realised. "If we just kill him, he never gets a chance to atone. You want to give him the chance we all gave you. But you also know you're breaking the law and it's bothering you."
"Hardly," Miraak muttered. "Ugh! Dorian! I'm covering for a convicted war criminal! The fact I'm one as well isn't helping! I'm supposed to be atoning! And what do I do as soon as a friend is exposed as someone else entirely? Make excuses for his own crimes! The Inquisition had no one else to seal the rifts. But everything he brings, another could do as well!"
Miraak closed his eyes, head hitting the pillow again.
"I am the animal you've called me before now. I am the brute your father thought I was. I deserved death at Liriel's hands and didn't get it. I do not remotely deserve you. I need… I need you to hurt me. No one else will punish me."
Something from Dorian, a noise, emotional reaction… but not arousal, and next thing Miraak knew, fingers were at the collar buckle, trying to loosen it and all he could feel was horror and despair as he wrenched away from Dorian.
"No!" Miraak gasped, horrified. "I need it! You can't let me loose, you can't!"
"I wanted a pet to take care of and fuss over, not abuse," Dorian snapped. "Damn it, Miraak, that's not what we agreed on! I don't do pain play! And this isn't even play, this is… oh god, Miraak, please stop. This is self-harm by proxy and I won't… I won't."
Then what use are you.
Miraak did not say it out loud, because it was cruel, spiteful, would hurt Dorian and possibly break what they had, but Kyne help him, if anyone needed a bloody dominant it was him, and here was Dorian not being that when Miraak needed it most.
"Fariiki," Miraak whispered bitterly. "I am no hero. I am a bastard, a villain, a monster. But one who loves you beyond all reason. But you want a hero to save the world, and what you've ended up with is me. I fear losing you, because I cannot tell right from wrong and without you I'm dead inside."
Dorian was shaking his head, and when Miraak looked, he saw a certain coldness in Dorian's own eyes, a certain darkness, and he started to wonder if perhaps he'd misjudged him. Either that or… perhaps he was going to get a good hiding after all.
"I have my own limits, Miraak," Dorian said softly. "Do not try and push me beyond them again, because I am not someone to have as your moral compass. I studied necromancy, I studied death, that entire field involves a coldness you have no idea even exists. I'm not a good person either. I am the man who saw you going to kill my father, and did nothing. I won't raise my staff against him but if you'd killed him… I would have mourned his death but never even considered avenging it… or preventing it. Do you know why that is, pet?"
"No?" Miraak whispered, feeling his cock twitch because this was not a side he'd seen of Dorian before. This side of Dorian was terrifying.
This side of Dorian was turning him on and he wanted more of it.
"Because I am not a nice man," Dorian whispered in his ear, and Miraak could feel Dorian's magic rising, the room darkening, the fire fading and all Miraak could see was darkness. "I was drawn to you because you burned like the sun, you were fire, you were passion, you were the most alive person I'd ever met and I could not resist you. Because you seemed to be everything I wasn't. And when I found out you had darkness at your core too, it broke my heart. Because I'd hoped you would make me better. That you would heal my broken core and make me a good person somehow. And here you are, lying at my feet and expecting me to make you into a hero? Miraak, Miraak. Heroism was never meant for me."
Miraak closed his eyes and despite this he was smiling, because this felt so familiar, and so wrong and so right.
"Then you and I belong together," Miraak gasped, arching his head back into Dorian's chest and reaching for Dorian's hand, pressing it to his groin, wanting him to feel the erection and draw his own conclusions.
He opened his eyes, stared up at Dorian, willing for him to break and just fucking take him already. Dorian was breathless, aroused, pink blush visible on brown skin, staring down at him, this close to breaking, Miraak just knew it.
"Aaz," Dorian whispered and the magic shut off, the firelight returned and Miraak closed his eyes and fell to the bed, whimper escaping his throat. Not getting brutally fucked tonight then. Damn it.
"Dorian," Miraak whispered, closing his eyes, wanting to comfort him, wanting to apologise but he didn't feel sorry, not remotely. He'd wanted pain and domination tonight. Needed it. And Dorian had been there, almost there, ready to be the bastard of Miraak's dreams.
Not quite, apparently. Damn it.
"Don't ever push me there again, amatus," Dorian said, rolling onto his back with his eyes closed, hand over his face. "I'm… kaffas, Miraak, if we go down that road, we'll never find our way back. And I don't know about you, but I like where we are. I like romantic happiness. Holding hands with you. Cuddling you. Loving you. I love my fluffy Dragonborn pet, and indulging him and playing with him. I'm not… Miraak. Please leave the worst parts of me alone."
"I liked that part of you, Thuri," Miraak murmured, not touching Dorian but close enough to if Dorian wanted. "You don't need to feel ashamed of it. I would have yielded gladly."
"I know," Dorian said, still not looking at him. "But I still have to live with me afterwards. Amatus, please. If you need me as your dominant, I will do that, but you have to respect my limits. I set them to protect us both."
Miraak growled, frustrated… but five thousand years or so in Apocrypha had taught him nothing if not patience. One day. One day Dorian was going to snap and break and wreck him. And it was going to be glorious.
"You tell me you have darkness at your core and then here you are being honourable?" Miraak scolded gently. "Look at yourself, fariiki, you are a good man at heart. Why wouldn't I admire and respect you? Out of all the ones I've served, you are the best by far!"
"What, compared to the winged fire-breathing monsters and the tentacle demon?" Dorian said incredulously, turning to face him finally. "Miraak, your standards are so low it's appalling."
Miraak and Dorian's eyes locked, Dorian staring at Miraak and Miraak pouting back, and then neither could help but laugh, the tension dying as things returned to normal, and Miraak decided that perhaps he was holding on to a little too much emotion, while Dorian saw his precious pet seem more like himself and subconsciously relaxed.
"I can hardly submit to you then refuse to do what I'm told, hmm?" Miraak purred, lazily stretching out. "Ah, Dorian, letting you hurt me is the easy way out, isn't it. I suppose it is not that easy. But tell me. Did I do the right thing. It's not too late, I could still call the Orlesians here."
"Hand him over to them, and it will be," Dorian said, smile fading. "Oh balls, Miraak, I can't tell you how to run the Inquisition! And you can't keep second-guessing yourself! You know who he is and what he did, you looked into his eyes and saw the truth of him. So what did you see? Are you sure he's a changed man? He's not going to do it again, is he?"
"No, no," Miraak said, almost dismissively, and then he looked into Dorian's eyes and realised this was the crux of it, wasn't it. Thom Rainier the war criminal absolutely needed hanging. But Thom turned Blackwall? Thom turned Blackwall was a good and honourable man who'd put himself in between others and trouble time and again, and in that dark future, had told Miraak the Inquisition wasn't dead as long as the four of them were willing to fight on in its name.
Damned if Miraak was letting that go to waste.
"I told him to fight for me with honour and I'd protect him," Miraak told Dorian, emotions easing as the vahzen, rightness, of what he'd decided settled in. "He knows I'm watching. He knows that if he backslides, that's it, I'm turning him in. I can give a second chance but not a third."
"I wouldn't expect any less," Dorian said, stroking his hair and smiling, because while he didn't know the details, this wasn't the hallmark of a bastard. This was the sign of a man who cared. Dorian smiled and kissed his beautiful pet's forehead and cuddled him, and the darkness always lurking in his soul settled down and returned to quiescence. No summoning tendrils of shadow to abuse and humiliate Miraak. Not tonight. Miraak was his adorable, beautiful pet, to be loved and cherished. Miraak was doing the right thing! Miraak didn't need punishing, and that thought cheered Dorian's heart. Reaching out for him, Dorian pulled Miraak into his arms and let him snuggle.
"I'm very proud of you, you know," Dorian said quietly. "Maybe you're not happy… but I am. This is growth, you know. Progress!"
Miraak's enthusiasm for snuggling appeared decidedly… muted, in fact he was scowling.
"Ugh, don't start, you're starting to sound like him," Miraak muttered. "I told him he was still less of a bastard than I was, and that my crimes were manifestly worse, and he told me I was still an inspiration. Apparently falling from grace as far as it is possible to fall and being able to rise as Andraste's Herald and become a hero makes me a better role model for Thedas's sinners than if I'd never been a vindictive arsehole in the first place. I'm still a vindictive arsehole, Dorian."
Vindictive arseholes did not snuggle into their boyfriend's arms and pout like that in Dorian's experience, but baby steps. A little at a time. Miraak would get used to being a good person eventually.
"Of course you are," Dorian crooned, trying not to laugh. "You are my adorable, fluffy vindictive bastard and I love you."
Miraak growled but said nothing because from Dorian, this disgusting soppiness was (wanted, longed for, needed, craved) acceptable. Barely. Just about. He'd have vastly preferred pain, darkness, brutal fucking, Dorian's magic pinning him down and summoning semi-sentient tendrils of power to fuck him raw with, Dorian watching and smiling while Miraak pleaded for mercy that was never coming.
But he wasn't getting that tonight and so he supposed the affection would do instead.
"But seriously, Miraak," Dorian was continuing, still stroking his hair. "Saering left you because you were being cruel, a tyrant. But until you launched your rebellion, such cruelty was normal, maybe even expected?"
"Yes…" Miraak said slowly, wondering where this was going.
"You kept the law, but your cruelty marked you," Dorian told him. "Now here you are trying to evade it, but you're showing mercy."
"He does not deserve mercy, he's guilty and it was a dark deed," Miraak growled. "Ugh. This was all so much easier under the Dov. I could have sacrificed him to Sahrotaar and had done. Now look at me. Agonising over it!"
"You could hand him over to the authorities now and have done," Dorian said, starting to rock him gently. "You haven't. You're showing mercy. That's growth, Miraak! That's personal growth! For you, it is! Honestly, this is one of those decisions that could have been justified either way. There's arguments on both sides. If you were a pushover, I'd be encouraging you to be more assertive and stand firmer, and if you'd been known for bribery and corruption, I'd be absolutely telling you to enforce the law. But you're neither of those things. You needed to learn mercy, and here you are. Being merciful. All on your own and you didn't even need me! You're not failing at heroism, Miraak. You're doing marvellously. And I'm very proud of you. And you don't need punishing either, pet. You're a good boy, aren't you, hmm? Who's a good boy, eh? Who's a good boy."
Miraak definitely did not live for being approved of, fussed over, and being told he was a good boy. Definitely, definitely not. Miraak was a strong, indomitable Atmoran battlemage who was above such things.
Which of course was why he rolled on to his back, pulling Dorian with him and pulled him in for a kiss, writhing suggestively under him and whispering 'please' in his ear.
"No," Dorian said, grinning mischievously, breaking off the kiss and staying stubbornly out of reach, one finger on Miraak's collar buckle forcing him back onto the pillows. "No fun for you until you've answered the question."
"What?" Miraak cried, because he couldn't possibly mean…
Miraak stared up into Dorian's eyes and realised that Dorian's particular brand of fluffy sadism might just be worse than the scary necromage.
"You're not kidding," Miraak said wearily, and Dorian reached for the collar's ring instead, lifting Miraak's neck from the pillows.
"Who's a good boy, pet," Dorian said, smiling sweetly. Miraak whined, squirmed, tried to fight it, but Dorian was implacable and there was literally only one way out of this.
"Me," Miraak whispered, eyes shut and face screwed up in pain – really, he'd have taken any amount of magical fuckery over this. "I'm your good boy."
It never once crossed Miraak's mind to safeword and call a halt to this revolting fluffiness.
Dorian's face softened as he nodded, smiling gently down at Miraak.
"Yes pet," Dorian said softly, serious for once. "Yes you are. Now let me take care of you."
The bedside table's drawer shot open and the lubricant came to Dorian's hands in one go, and Dorian released Miraak, letting him fall back to the pillows.
"I hate you," Miraak whispered, eyes closed but not resisting as Dorian stripped his remaining clothes off and began to oil him.
"It's for your own good, pet," Dorian told him, and Miraak closed his eyes, mortified and appalled at himself for not shouting Dorian out of bed and instead just putting up with this humiliating treatment.
I am not a good boy. I am a horrifying abomination. I am…
Getting fucked by a man with darkness in his soul, who wielded punishment and humiliation more ingeniously than Miraak could ever have imagined. He'd heard of forced orgasms before. But never forced morals. The entire experience was horrific. Revolting. Degrading.
Gods help him, Miraak couldn't stop.
A/N: Next chapter, back to Dragonborn Four as Miraak talks to Alistair about it all, then Leliana, then Cullen - it's various canon cutscenes to get through before we start looking at the main quest again. That... might mean Here Lies the Abyss as soon as chapter 23, or the start of it anyway.
Motmahus Lo Vith - untrustworthy lying snake