ACT II: To Have Found Family


Solas had allowed me a few minutes in his rotunda to read the letter that I had kept from Mother Giselle. It had been stashed away in Josephine's office until I was prepared to speak to Dorian. I had rushed back to retrieve it, while also looking around for Varric if he appeared anywhere. My understanding of the language was better, so I could understand most of the written words.

Nothing in the letter sounds suspicious, aside from the implication of wanting him alone. I instinctively flipped the letter to eye the back, but there was nothing. No sigil had been on the envelope aside from the official sign-off of House Pavus. There was no signature. I guess I can't avoid it forever. I can't take him out with me without some fear that someone could snatch him from under my nose.

With a wave to Solas, I picked myself up and wandered up the stairs toward Dorian. His voice floated down lazily through the open space of the tower, a conversation of religion and the difference of the Chantries, it sounded like. He was at the first table of the floor next to the bookcase before the little nook he usually inhabited. Upon spying me, he went quiet and stood with a stern face.

"Someone shit in your grapes, Dandelion?" I joked at his sour look. He scowled for a split second before it shifted into a swift, smooth smirk over his lips.

"Far be it that I should waste my time worrying after you, it seems." Dorian shot back and held his hands out for me. Confused, I walked into his hands. We stared at each other for a hearty moment. Then the bastard shook me.

"Ack, what the fuck, Dorian?" I wiggled my arms to get out of his grasp.

"You are insanity incarnate. What madness drove you to think such a thing was a good idea?" He demanded of me with a scowling face. "That's nothing short of blood magic! It is blood magic!" He hissed venomously. Hot confusion flashed through me, wondering could he tell I was different? before I realized my screams were probably something the whole fort heard before the night was over.

"It felt like a good idea at the time" I huffed. "I — Dorian, I don't really…" What on earth was I supposed to say? The mage stood before me vibrated with his ire, his face stricken in stone with displeasure. I'm missing something here. The letter crinkled behind my back and I pondered quietly.

"Teach me, here." I said softly with a tipped chin, one hand waving weakly between us. "I'm clearly… not understanding the connotations here." Though I did my best to filter my words to keep as neutral as possible, it didn't seem to be enough. Dorian still puffed like an angry fish and his hands fisted against his hips.

"And that makes it worse, my dove. So much worse." He hissed low in his voice, leaning forward. "That they allowed you to walk into that mess without truly educating you on the dangers of that — that magic." I had stepped on a cultural landmine, from the sounds of it. Tread carefully, Jaime, especially if I wanted the mage to trust me enough that I wasn't playing games. He has to trust me, the letter burnt my palm.

"Dorian, I don't —" I stuttered, the sudden and violent realization struck me that Dorian was not one of the people who knew my secret. Vivienne, Blackwall, Sera, and now Dorian were blind to the past that I held secret and it made my heart ache. How attached I had become in such a short amount of time. He stared at me with impatience.

"Magic is magic to me. I… I don't know what the good and bad of it is." I answered honestly, haltingly, unsure of how else to approach the subject. In my world, I wanted to say, it doesn't exist, so theories and philosophies on it are a moot point. The mage snorted and crossed his arms, leaning back on his foot with a narrowed look.

"And yet you were adverse to my use of the dead bodies. Would one not say the same of that magic? What does it matter, the dead are gone." He snapped back. That's fair, I winced at his tone of voice and sighed. My hand nervously touched my neck.

"Then meet me halfway here. You're up in arms about blood magic just the same, but I don't understand what makes it bad. Like, the dead should be left alone because they're dead. You know? Rest in peace and all that." I replied with a desperate pull in my words. Something warred through Dorian, an emotion that mangled his thoughts and tugged at his lips for a small snarl before it disappeared.

"Blood magic can be used for exactly this. It changes you. It can be used to change who you are, what you are." Dorian spat quietly, glancing over my shoulder to watch any oncomers or passers. He sighed and reached up to rub at his temples. "It can be used to control you. Someone just needs a bit of blood to make you a slave."

I blinked at him, surprise slapped my face.

"You're shitting me." I bumbled in alarm. "You can do that?"

"Maker's breath," Dorian swore, running a hand down his face. "I am legitimately astounded no Southerners did tell you about all the horrors of blood magic." The implications were terrifying. I gripped the letter behind my back like it would escape, the words written on the page a thousand times more dangerous. Could they do that to Dorian? Is that why the wanted him alone?

Was this a bomb I was holding?

"... I wasn't aware." I answered lamely. "Not that it matters. Look, I... " A sigh ripped through me. What am I supposed to say? I'm sorry? Like that fucking works. My shoulders squared when Dorian's dark eyes struck my face. "Using blood isn't so… scary, where — with what — fuck." My fingers were cold against my neck and they fell. Silence coiled between myself and the mage. He stared, stony and unrelenting in his judgement.

"You know much more about things than you let on, Inquisitor." Dorian breathed fire, anger in his lungs.

Inquisitor.

"Dorian, I—"

"For the most part, I am content to stand idly by and allow bygones to be bygones, but not this. This is not what I came to support." He raised his chin, his arms crossed his chest and again, he stared. "The last time I trusted someone with something so incoherently, stupidly potent — I lost my most beloved friend. So, Inquisitor. What shall we do?"

I swallowed at his stare. A cold sweat beaded the back of my neck. For all his robust and flamboyant nature, Dorian could (and proved) he could be an utter devastation when it came to presentation. The letter wrinkled in my hand behind my back. If I give him anything but the truth, I'm going to lose him. I closed my eyes and folded my cards.

"... come with me." I exhaled weakly. "I'll explain it all. I promise."

He followed.

-0-

He had stood out on my balcony for the better part of half an hour. The weather was gentle and the snow hadn't been as heavy today. He took no cover, no coat, no blanket to defend himself against the nipping wind. Anxiety gripped me too tightly to disturb his digestion of my storytelling. I paced from the desk to the fireplace. I waited for him, for anything. He had been disturbingly quiet during my explanation, his letter from his family had been forgotten on the cushions of the couch.

I busied myself with its slow recovery and fiddled with it at my desk after my feet itched to take a break from my pacing. Another ten minutes or so had passed from the look of my sun-dial. Gently his shadow slipped back into the borders of my room. I could hardly resist my gaze as it jumped to his face, my back straightened against my chair. He said nothing and moved toward my fireplace. He dragged the stool from beside it and sat gracelessly upon it. His arms folded against his chest.

He sighed.

Tightly, his eyes pinched shut.

A moment after a hand escaped and ran over his face. Not once did he glance my way. He rested his elbow against his other arm at his chest, his chin held up in the palm of his upturned hand.

Silence drew in like the tide. I waited, his letter flat and forgotten under the palms of my hands.

"... how old are you, did you say?" He asked quietly. I nearly leapt out of my chair at the sound of his soft voice.

"Twenty-seven." I answered, mindful of my tone. "Birthday's in the spring."

"By the Maker." He rubbed his hand over his face again. "And — you truly do not recall how you arrived?"

"No, sir." I would be diligent with my answers. I had to be.

"To think Alexius could have been so close to — and you, practically on a whim, here." His thoughts tumbled through his mouth, babbling like a brook, broken and disjointed. "But this explains so much. So very much. You were an oddity, to be sure, but I had never thought…"

"It's a lot to take in, I know." I attempted to placate. Flames danced in the fireplace. Absently, Dorian reached over and took a log from beside it. He tossed it with practice onto the pile and waited for the sparks to die down before he spoke again.

"No magic. No demons." He breathed, astounded. "No Fade. No Maker. No dragons. No elves, dwarves. Just man… and machine. How utterly…" His arms fell into his lap, his hands loosely laced their fingers together.

"Right?" I agreed absently and dog-eared his letter. There was nothing else I could think to say.

"Who else knows?" He asked, his gaze still focused on the flames.

"Um," I bought myself time to think. "Solas. Cass, Cullen. Josie. Leliana. Varric… Bull. Cole? I think? I don't know how much he knows, but he can read minds, so."

"And not your Warden?" Dorian asked softly. "Sera? Vivienne — no. I have an inclination as to why she isn't included, if her displeasure with Cole is any indication."

I popped a finger-gun at him. "Got it in one. Sera… Sera's… rough. She's pretty straight forward. In, out, kill baddies, stay away from the stupid. This? Me? Pretty stupid." It got the smallest half-chuckle out of Dorian. I shrugged, a smile tugged at my lips.

"Blackwall… I dunno." I fiddled with his letter again. "I've tried taking the chance to tell him, but he always just turns it into something else, and then we end up arguing. He already worries over me, could you imagine if I told him this? He'd bust a nut."

A hard snort and a short wheeze of a laugh sparked through Dorian and finally, he turned a playful glare at me. My heart melted in relief.

"I am sorry I hadn't told you. I'm sorry I can't tell everyone, but you can understand why I can't." I started up before the tears could pool into my eyes. "You also need to understand that everything I've told you, dies with you. You know that, right?"

"Jaime." Dorian exhaled gently. He stood from the stool and wandered over to my desk. I waited, the letter covered up by my hands as he approached. "Bombastic though I may be, even I am aware of how dangerous this secret is — what it could do to us if anyone found out the truth."

"Then?" I prompted. I needed to hear him say it to ease the gnawing worry in my chest.

"You have my word that nary a soul shall hear it from my lips. It dies with me, my love."

Not Inquisitor this time.

"Good," I breathed, a trickle of relief and fear running through my voice. "Not to completely change the subject, but there's a letter you need to see. I'm— I was going to give it to you back in the tower, but..." Dorian was a master at switching his gears from gobsmacked, to humorous, to serious in seconds flat.

"A letter? Show me." He held out his hand, all jokes gone when he took my tone to heart. I hesitated and dropped the letter in his open palm, the poor thing crumpled into a ball from my stress. Gently, he took the letter and unrolled the crinkled parchment. His heels turned away from me and he shuffled back to the fireplace. I stood and wrung my hands together, waiting.

Would they want him alone to take some blood and force him to go back? I watched as Dorian's back tensed while he read, his shoulders rolling under the leather of his clothes. My feet shuffled, my hands were behind my back and I pressed my right thumb into my left palm, the Mark warmer than my skin. Could this be a trap? Would they plan that I would come, or use Dorian to get to us? Could they puppeteer someone?

So many paranoid questions.

"I know my son," Dorian spat with a tight pull of the letter in his hands. Accustory eyes turned back to me with his teeth gritted, "What my father knows of me would barely fill a thimble. This is so typical." Like a lost puppy, I waited in my spot and watched as the mage paced the room.

"I told you, I was worried, but… that turned into being scared pretty quick." I fumbled with my words, my hands fluttering to fill the awkward space. "Because, like, meeting alone and then the retainer, and now what I know of blood magic…"

Dorian snorted, "Yes, and I'm willing to bet this retainer is a henchman, hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter."

"Yeah, see." I dropped my hands, exasperated. "That's — that doesn't help my wild imagination… you think your father would actually do that?" Dorian paused in his fuming and glared at the parchment. His mustache twitched and with a sigh and he shook his head.

"No… although I wouldn't put it past him." His shoulders squared. "Let's go. Let's meet this so-called family retainer."

I nodded, "Good. I'll be there with you. We're making a trip to the Hinterlands tomorrow morning. Be ready, okay?"

"Always, dove. And thank you." He paused and drew my gaze to his with his palm against my cheek. "Truly, my dear. Thank you." I nodded with a weak smile. Dorian rolled the parchment into his hands before shoving it into his back pocket. Hesitation kept me in place as I watched him leave my room.

My head throbbed from the stress of it all.

Time for some training dummies.

-0-

I did not, in fact, find training dummies out by the tavern in the courtyard. What I found instead was a very quiet, very still, very occupied Cassandra Pentaghast. With a book. Tickled absolutely pink at the idea of my Viper reading a book in her quiet time, I had wandered close like a meddling sibling and crouched down next to her bench. She, for the most part, remained unaware of my presence. Patiently I waited on my haunches, glancing up at her now and again like an expectant puppy.

After a few minutes of silence, I wheedled her like the imp little sister I was previously.

"Good book, Cassie?" I said teasingly. Like a shot, she snapped from her seat and yanked her arms behind her back to hide the book. The sheer speed of her surprise caught me off-guard and I tumbled backwards onto my ass, laughter bubbling from my stomach.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she snipped at me.

"Yes," I replied sarcastically, my mood brightening at frightening speed. "Because I have gone blind between ten minutes ago when I first found you, and now. Cass." I stood and wiped my pants with a slanted look of disbelief.

She pouted at me. "It's— just reports. From Commander Cullen."

"Right." I shot back, eyebrow cocked. "Because Cullen's got time and a half to write a novel." She stared at me, willing me to drop the subject, but the longer she stared the wider my grin spread across my face. Finally relenting with a sigh, she brought the book out from behind her back.

"It's a book." She gave me her half-baked answer.

"I can see that." I chuckled, moving in closer. "What kind of book are you reading that you— you, of all people, didn't notice me come up on you?" A sliver of hesitation gripped her mouth and twisted it. Thoughts flashed over her face and I waited, interested to see what she would come up with as an explanation.

"It's… one of Varric's tales." She sighed, defeated. "Swords and Shields. The latest chapter."

"Oooh." I murmured, happily surprised. "You've got a collection?"

"It's nothing. Just a minor diversion. Wasteful, really." She attempted to deflect and tossed the book onto the bench with a careless flick of her wrist. It was hard to miss the way her eyes strayed to it after it left her hand. I reached for the book and she nearly flinched to take it from me.

"Cass." I soothed. "What's wrong with wanting to read books? They're good for the soul."

"It's—" She choked, her voice wrangled to something quieter. "It's smutty literature."

"Even better!" I replied sincerely. I don't know why the idea hadn't crossed my mind that smut would exist in this universe, but it was a bit of a funny relief to know that it was about as colorful in creativity as my old home. "Nothing wrong with smut, promise. I used to read it all the time back home."

Her eyes snapped up to me. "You— would just admit that?"

"Cassandra." I deadpanned. "You know I've had sex before, right?"

"No!" She harped, her face flooding scarlet. I blinked hard, startled as she continued. "I hadn't— known, you didn't have to tell me! That is— such things are private!"

"Sure, sis." I laughed and handed the book back to her. "I'll keep that to myself, then. Is the book any good? Should I give it a read?"

"You? No!" She fumbled with the book. "I—"

"No?" I wheedled happily, pleased at her blush. "Why not? I can actually read now, Cass."

"No, you can't." She shook her head and clenched her fingers around the book. "You're the Inquisitor. They're not meant for… for…" Ah. I swallowed a laugh. I'm on a glass pedestal. Why on earth would the High and Mighty lower themselves to read smut? Oh, my love for her. A snicker still managed to escape between my lips.

"Oh, I see." The snicker clicked between my teeth. "Just wanna keep me innocent, do you?"

"No, I…" Cassandra was terribly flustered and I drank it up with a grin. She huffed at me with a glare. "... They're terrible. And magnificent. And this one ends in a cliffhanger. I know Varric is working on the next one, he must be!"

My grin widened.

She glared harder. "Forget you know this about me, Inquisitor. I would not have you spreading such rumors."

Laughter choked me, "Rumors! Cass, how could you—"

"I know you, you devilish thing!" She smacked my arm with her book and my laughter continued to roll, utterly and wondrously charmed at the playfulness that had overtaken her. "You meddle and things turn into such embarrassing affairs."

"Oh, name one time I embarrassed you, Cassandra Pentaghast." I stuck my tongue out at her like I was a five-year old child, swept up in the love that I felt for the woman before me. My face sparked with delight and my lungs were on fire. Her face was flushed up to her ears and in it all, it felt like home. Her brows dipped hard over her eyes, her body tense and coiled to strike. Strike she did.

"The Storm Coast!" She retaliated readily. Blindsided, my head cocked back at her, awaiting explanation. "You told The Iron Bull that I used to leash you for misbehav— it is not a laughing matter, Jaime!" She snarled at me, but there was nothing I could do. Tears had sprung to my eyes from the unadulterated 'hee-uuuck's of laughter that swarmed my belly. For the first time in a long ass time, I found myself doubled-over, gasping for air because of it.

"Oh my fuck," I wheezed, my chest hurting pleasantly. "Cass, Cassie, that wasn't— that wasn't me, I swear."

"A likely story." She sniffed, her book clutched to her bosom. "Begone with you. The last thing I need is for more people to find out. Shoo!" She shoved at my shoulder and pushed me toward the tavern. Wild snickers rattled in my throat, but I obeyed and left her to the book.

Where, oh where could my little Varric be, came the terrorizing thought, a wicked smile slapped over my mouth. She wants a meddler, she's gonna damn well get it. One meddling sister coming right the fuck up. I had wandered toward the entrance of the tavern only to find Bull had placed himself on a crate next to it, an apple in hand.

"He's come out of hiding." Bull offered with no preamble, munching on a bite. "Came back from Josie's supply-run about an hour or so ago— he's back up in the keep." A lightning grin flashed my teeth and in my delirium of wicked humor, I tipped over and planted a fat kiss to Bull's cheek. I cackled as I shot my way back to the main hall.

It was only later, much later and in the dead of night, when I realized what I had done.

Or that Bull had, somehow, figured out how to read my thoughts.


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