Euphoria coursed through Dorian's soul. He now had a spring in his step, a conspiratory grin to flash at passerby who gave him knowing looks. He was getting married and damn- he'd show Skyhold what a real party was like.

He stopped by Solas's room at the base of the tower, watching as the elf scribbled notes in a journal. "Solas?"

"Yes?"

Dorian approached his table and eyed the magical diagram Solas was sketching. The rift mage was an expert in his specialization, and yet he studied continuously. It was something Dorian admired. "I know you're not Dalish, but do you know anything about their marriage traditions?"

"They call it Bonding."

Dorian grinned. "Ah yes, I've been informed."

Solas set his pen down and pondered for a second. Dorian knew the way to his company was simply to set a topic in front of him and kick back for awhile. "The Dalish have very little ancient elven culture to draw on. I may disappoint you in saying their customs in this modern era are almost identical to human traditions. The Keeper of the clan officially Bonds two consenting adults as a couple for life. It's a clan-wide celebration, and the couple often give each other gifts and tokens of affection through their courtship and ceremony. The Dalish treasure children and pray their families and newly-weds will be blessed- although for a couple of the same sex, that aspect doesn't matter much."

Dorian nodded. "Anything in particular about the ceremony? Vows? Shooting a flaming arrow? Raunchy games like throwing the couple in bed together? I'm hopeful about the last one."

"No- well, maybe." Solas shrugged. "I've never been to a Dalish Bonding. I'd imagine the clan stubbornly does as they think proper being so isolated, sometimes throwing a bride's undergarments into a crowd of young hopefuls and sometimes not."

"Thank you." Dorian took it as permission to customize his own bonding ceremony to be exactly whatever he and Lavellan wanted. Ideas swirled in his mind and he ran to Josephine, grinning stupidly at her as she beamed at him.

"Dorian! It's taken you so long- surely you have some requests for your wedding? Lavellan has already ordered the champagne, but he's been uncertain about a date-"

"Ah- yes, I have a few things to discuss." Dorian watched with a rush of warmth and gratefulness for Josephine as she dipped a quill into ink so enthusiastically it splashed over. Goodness, the merriment really was contagious. "I need help getting a custom ring made for Lavellan. I'm afraid waiting for a jeweler at Val Royeaux to be available will take too long."

Josephine raised her eyebrows. "You're only ordering it now? I don't mean to judge, it's been a couple weeks-"

"I- oh it may even delight you to know my proposal was a total accident." Dorian laughed at her shocked expression, the most unguarded he'd ever seen her. "Of course I want to marry Lavellan! But I only found out I was engaged ah, last night."

She covered her mouth with her hand and burst into laughter, echoing in the diplomat's chamber. Dorian joined in, and to his dismay a third voice tittered gleefully behind him.

"SERA!" Dorian moved with lightning agility, leaping around and tackling Sera to the floor as she turned visible. "You can't tell him!"

Sera slapped her knee and wheezed, blissfully unconcerned at Dorian's attempt at a snarl. "It's too GOOD!"

"It has to come from me, please!"

Sera playfully shoved Dorian aside with ease and winked impishly. "Fine- but now you HAVE to go shopping with me!" She leapt up and read Josephine's wedding arrangement notes upside down. "So Josie- got any favors or strings to pull for us?"

"No strings to pull because of what YOU'VE pulled!" exclaimed Josephine. "However- I can arrange for Dorian's ring if you two find a tailor."

Vivienne didn't walk in so much as appear, her presence radiating smugness to match a smirk. "I couldn't happen to overhear-"

"-a common problem these days," muttered Dorian.

"-that you're in need of a tailor? My personal one shall more than suffice." Vivienne gestured to her own outfit, flowing, graceful, glimmering just the right amount for any given situation and yet still functional. "All I need is to add just a few names to the guest list."

"Done!" Josephine handed her the list and clapped her hands together. "Oh I've missed party planning! Our caterers have already been hired, the alcohol is purchased and in great amounts- entertainment! Surely we need musicians for the dancing and reception, any preferences?"

Dorian was coping with the concept of so many people at such a personal affair, but supposed the Inquisitor was too public of a figure for it to be avoided. The solution? Throw the best party the country had seen in a century! "Whoever they are, make sure they have a cannon in their percussion section. Oh- and let your decorative side go wild, Josephine. I want no one to see so much as a plain surface in our hall or courtyard!"

Sera was beaming. "Yes, yes! Don't make it a stuffy, noble gathering! Fancy napkins! Bright colors! You know what Fereldens love? Cake! I promise it's not just me, it's a nationwide, unifying passion..."

Dorian was swept away into his own wedding planning as more of a passenger than half of the reason for such a celebration- and he hardly minded. The joyous occasion was for all of Skyhold, the inquisition for all, led by an elf, for their people and friends before just themselves. Josephine, Vivienne, Sera, and Dorian discussed the details of turning Skyhold into something beautiful, how banquettes of flowers and leafy vines could benefit their barren tables and walls, how candles and new lanterns were in order, how it was a brilliant excuse to fix the stubborn gaps in Skyhold's structure and refine it for all who lived there.

He wished he could take credit for it- how so many people were merry and finally completing their home. It was a rare break from bloodshed, from fear. If asked, Dorian would excuse the time and mild expense as a tactical move, a diplomatic way to show the Inquisitor as a person, to throw their doors open for an evening with the world.

In reality, sometimes people just needed dancing and far too much wine.

Dorian preened as Sera and Vivienne helped him into formalwear as beautiful as the Inquisitor's- with a Tevinter influence. He angled his head up at the floor length mirror as the tailor, Johann, checked all his adjustments here and there in a pearl white tunic, made to compliment the Inquisitor's purple and gold with opal white material and glimmering purple swirls all around it. Maybe tunic wasn't even the right word, as it split in the front at his waist and came down on one side to his hip and mid calf like an enchanter's coat on the other, with layers of purple fabric under the white layer on either side to give the impression of a fuller outfit that it actually was.

Asymmetrical, dashing, and attention grabbing. Dorian was pleased. "Could this collar get any more... dramatic?"

"Ask not whether you can, but should. I think it's perfect," said Vivienne.

Johann tied a silk purple sash around Dorian's waist and fastened a black velvet, gold lined short cape around his shoulders. He stood back with pride. "Well?"

"You look mage-y," commented Sera. "Feel better now that you look like you're shitting gold again?"

Dorian eyed the inside of his collar that was lined with golden material to match the cape. "This is for Lavellan. And yes, the silk is lovely, as is the design." He even had new, knee length black boots to match the cape and he turned, looking over his shoulder in the mirror. "Tevinter- but loud."

Vivienne laughed. "That would be you, dear."

Dorian changed back into his typical mage outfit and at last, had time to find Lavellan. The Inquisitor was back at his desk, cheerful but clearly tired as he wrote. "Amatus, how many times am I going to have to pull you away from that desk? You work too hard."

Lavellan smiled with that adoring look in his eyes. "Hardly working, more like. I've been drafting wedding invitations- I thought it should be done personally."

Dorian took Lavellan's hand and kissed the back of it, smile mirroring Lavellan's as he stood up. "I'm sure they'll sound lovely. I need to tell you something."

"Cuddle me, it's been days!" insisted Lavellan. Lavellan followed Dorian to the couch and curled up with him, putting his head on Dorian's shoulder and snuggling into his embrace. Dorian's heart swelled and he realized such affection would soon be effortless, second nature to adore his husband. He could stop having invisible boundaries, timid and afraid of loving too much. He swallowed and kissed the top of Lavellan's head. He wondered if he'd ever be over how loving and absolutely perfect Lavellan was.

"Marrying you is a brighter life than I ever hoped for, amatus."

Lavellan beamed at Dorian. "Me too."

Dorian held Lavellan's hand and squeezed it, hoping to phrase his mistake in a positive light. "My ring is going to be late, unfortunately. I only just arranged the matter with Josephine."

"Just now? You're far too fussy and vain if it took you weeks to design a ring!" Lavellan grinned and pecked Dorian's cheek. "You're adorable- how long to decide what color roses you'd like?"

"To pick just one color- please, I could never decide!" Dorian kept his voice light and savored Lavellan's endlessly happy mood. The elf's ears even seemed to twitch with pleasure as they breathed together, close and warm. "Lavellan, love of my life, my amatus, my dear, my fiancé, First to my heart, my lover-"

"Out with it!"

Dorian kissed Lavellan's cheek. "It's poetic, really. Back in Tevinter, I had a tentative list of brides chosen for me before I was even born. Here- well. Inquisitor Lavellan, I am happier than I've been in all my adult life, and my proposal to you was a complete and total accident."

Lavellan's mouth hung open. Dorian was now certain that his ears conveyed emotion as they pointed straight up and he struggled to talk. "But- accident?!"

"Not mistake- dear heavens not a mistake- but yes. An accident."

Lavellan frowned. "You said you wanted to Bond with me! How- that's a proposal! That's what a proposal is!"

"I had meant bond in the human dictionary definition of being together. Like for supper."

Lavellan turned to look at Dorian and his chest seized at the pain on Lavellan's face. "Oh gods, you didn't mean to Bond me?! Dorian I'm so sorry-"

"I'm not!" declared Dorian. He cupped the Inquisitor's cheek and his eyes softened, swallowing hard again. "I would've never had the courage to ask you to marry me. I'd be too shy, too scared."

Lavellan leaned into his touch. "You're shy?"

"A surprise, I know." Dorian fluffed Lavellan's hair. "'A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal.' No matter where we go, what happens, what the world sees- my sincerity in Bonding with you, my love, could cause unrivaled destruction."

That was all Lavellan needed to press his mouth against Dorian's and place his hands on Dorian's chest, kissing softly. Dorian held the Inquisitor around the waist and kissed back, eyes closing and lips pliant. He angled his head and Lavellan gripped the collar of his gear with want, pulling Dorian closer and when that didn't work, almost climbing on top of him.

Dorian opened his eyes with a laugh as Lavellan worked to make their positions far less vertical and more horizontal. He made eye contact with Lavellan and kissed his neck. "It's rude to stare, amatus."

"It's rude to look like you do and not let me stare."

They kissed more, tongues sometimes sliding together and lips all for the other to claim, embraced close. Dorian rubbed Lavellan's back and sighed, carefree and warm. Energy danced on their lips and Lavellan practically shoved Dorian back, hungrily kissing him and chasing the sparks only they could feel, straddling Dorian and holding his jaw, heat in his face and breaths unsteady.

Dorian pulled back spoke less than an inch from the Inquisitor's mouth. "I have an idea for our Bonding ceremony- a mage tradition."

Lavellan kissed Dorian's neck and nuzzled his skin. "I'm sure it's romantic and meaningful-"

"It is."

"-but I am BEGGING you to get in our bed and hold any rational thought for after."

Dorian took in the inquisitor's disheveled hair and shaking breath and knew he didn't look any more composed. Still, he had to tease the poor man some more. "It's two in the afternoon, amatus."

"Shut up," hissed Lavellan with a determined rock of his hips.

Oh, like a player who'd performed hundreds of times, the quip fell from Dorian's lips huskily with the passion in his eyes to match. "Make me."

They didn't make it three paces to the bed.

Their Bonding date was set, invitations sent, and the inquisition buzzing with excitement. Dorian was pleased with his custom ring for Lavellan, how it would compliment him beautifully. He even saw Cole out and about, smiling and lurking in Varric's shadow, but still outside.

Mother Giselle tapped Dorian's shoulder as he gazed at the fortress courtyard. "Pavus?"

"Ah, Mother Giselle, a pleasure."

She nodded. "It is, Dorian. I was merely wondering- neither of your have asked me about your wedding. Who's marrying you? I'm happy to officiate your union. I- I am terribly sorry for how I misjudged you, and understand if you aren't a disciple of the southern Chantry, but you always have me here for you."

"I appreciate that, and thank you. Perhaps you can help," admitted Dorian. Yes, their ceremony could use one more person. "Maybe to finalize our Bonding. There's a modified mage tradition- not involving any actual magic- that Lavellan and I have agreed on from a more romantic oriented time in Tevinter's past. We're being bonded by all of our inner circle, but I'd be honored if you had the final word."

Mother Giselle smiled. "I'd be honored as well- as long as this mage tradition isn't something Andraste would disapprove of."

"Rest assured, it's actually rather cute."

She hesitated, and pulled out an embossed envelope from her pocket. "Dorian, I know this is a sore subject, and hard on you, but I will not try to lie or keep it from you." She held out a letter and Dorian took it, spirit suddenly low and limbs heavy, as though the slightly bulging sealed letter weighed much more.

Dorian knew without having to read it. "Father sends his regards, I see."

"I'm sorry. I don't wish to bring you sorrow."

Dorian put on a brave face. "Whatever the contents, none of it is your fault. I thank you."

He turned away, stomach twisting into painful cramps. Of course with a wedding, Halward Pavus would have all manner of things to say to him. Dorian had half a mind to ignore the letter as he settled in by his window in the library, but ripped the seal open two seconds later with unsteady impatience.

Curiosity killed the cat, after all.

"He can't ruin this," whispered Dorian to himself as he pulled out parchment with his father's handwriting. He bit his lip and grimaced, drawing the letter out into the sunny light of day.

"To my beloved son Dorian, heir to House Pavus, Altus of Tevinter

On behalf of the noble Pavus family and inner circle of magisters, I must express great dismay and concern regarding your union to the Inquisitor Lavellan. An Altus joining with a Liberati cannot fail to draw massive disappointment and scorn from all who share the names of our forefathers, especially in knowing the proud blood of generations shall cease to flow at your tributary of the familial tree.

I heard of your arrangement thirdhand to rub the salt into the wound- that such an event would be orchestrated with no amount of diplomacy or formality to your home- outrageous! For years I have sought to see you marry- yet when you take a step in the proper direction it is followed by a multitude of steps back. While the subject of your betrothal is unmentionable and the location far from where I could hope to attend, worse even the lack of notice or invitation. My own child to be married, and I find out from hearsay, no personal letter or announcement!

While your rebellious, youthful heart may have forgotten proper manners. I have not. I have always told you of our traditions, and that our mages wear the attached bracelets to be married together, symbols of a union within our nation. I will not let my son forget the promise I made him, that he'd have only the finest I could provide on his wedding day.

I will not let my son forget either, that our estrangement may mean our blood only joins now in ink from far away, that as a child I told you to be proud of your heritage, as I am proud of you. You are to represent all of Tevinter to the southerners. You are to act with dignity, pride, and a head held high. You must be respectable, presentable, and make the impression only the most high of class can to your almost-peers in the Orlesian nobility. You are to carry yourself as though the magesterium was attending. Formality- not levity, is the key to a proper wedding. You are not to publicly display undue affection, drink more than a toast of champagne, and certainly not take to the center of a dance in a manner that would bring scandal to our noble house.

But above all, Dorian, to thine own self be true.

I do not think you know any other way to be, nor would I wish it.

With loving regards,

Your father,

Halward Pavus"

Dorian stared.

And reread.

And stared some more.

Dorian felt a surge of emotion and laughter erupted out of him. Dorian bent in half and howled, throat raw and voice far too loud for a library full of researchers. Even Solas down below must hear, and yet his abdomen burned and he guffawed silently, tears streaming from his face.

There was an unsolvable knot inside of him like an elvish puzzle, a knot of pain Cole had once tried to untie, frustrated that such bitter hurt could be so intertwined with love and longing. He pushed it down deep inside his heart, yet Cole could sense it's potency on the surface of Dorian's soul. Through deciphering the letter that knot finally started to loosen, being bound with more understanding, with more love as some of the pain at last faded.

Magister Pavus, head of House and owner of massive amounts of power, was mortified to the point of likely needing a fainting couch at the reality of his gay son marrying an elf.

But Halward Pavus, his father, had wanted a wedding invitation and to send a blessing. Society had an impact too, then, on his father. Not that his father was society itself, as Dorian had viewed for so long.

Beneath the magister was a father who wanted to see his son happy and send a piece of home. Dorian held what else the envelope contained- two golden snake bracelets, biting their tails. Ouroboros. Infinity. The symbols of Tevinter and marriage together. Bracelets he grew up knowing he'd inherit at his wedding. And inherit he did-

His father still called him his heir.

Dorian caught his breath and looked up to see Lavellan standing above him with an inquisitive look. Dorian grinned, the message running through his head. A huge paragraph of fatherly advice he knew damn well Dorian never follow, with a line tagged on at the end.

To thine own self be true.

"Dorian? Are you alright?"

"I may yet recover." He waved the letter at Lavellan and coughed one last time, giggling and clutching his chest. "Inquisitor- my father told a joke for the first time in decades."