Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Return to Me
The horns sounded across the courtyard, but that only meant that the Inquisitor was in sight: not that he’d returned to Skyhold. It would be another half hour, at least, if Dorian’s calculations were correct. He resisted the urge to dash down the stairs and through the halls and out into the yard; he would only be hurrying to wait.
He lounged in the middle of the bed, comfortable, if a bit large for one person (though he’d never admit that). He was certain that the chamber staff were out in the halls wringing their hands and biting their tongues at his lassitude, what with Inquisitor Trevelyan so close.
Dorian sat up stiffly and groaned at the dull aches in his abdomen. The injuries he’d received during the final battle against Corypheus were healing well, but he often felt twinges of pain, and he tired more easily than he’d care to admit to anyone--especially Theo himself. Oh, he’d put up an appropriate fit of pique at being left behind on this latest mission, but, aside from the bed being too large and lonely at night, he was relieved Theo had gone off without him.
Before dawdling over his choice of outfit in which to welcome home the Inquisitor, Dorian paused in front of the balcony overlooking the courtyard. Below, the soldiers lined up in formation. A pair of ravens flew out from the next tower over, while another returned from the field. He watched for a bit; he’d never been on this side of the return before, and it fascinated him to see Skyhold wake from its languor in the Inquisitor’s absence.
His heart swelled with pride as he watched, and it beat a little bit faster when he thought of seeing Theo again after just over a fortnight apart. His sparkling green eyes, his lithe, lean frame, the way his chestnut hair would fall in his face and he would impatiently push it away… the feel of his lips…
Dorian couldn’t hold back his smile, and there was little point in trying. He was alone, for one, and even if he wasn’t, all of Skyhold--all of Thedas, really--knew he and Theo were madly in love. Dorian himself still had trouble believing this was his reality. No one from Tevinter would bother asking, let alone caring, if he’d thought this would be his life one day: waking up in the arms of the most powerful man in the world.
Truthfully, he hadn’t ever thought he’d consistently wake up in the arms of the same man. It hadn’t been tolerated at home as anything more than a pleasant, if discreet diversion.
He selected sleek, fitted suede trousers in black; and because his torso still pained him, a loose crimson silk shirt with black lacing. He ran his hands through his dark hair; normally he’d like to style it, but he supposed that by the time he’d fixed it, he and Theo would mess it up again. Dorian twirled the ends of his mustache and took a quick glance in the mirror before donning his comfortable light boots and a warm cloak and descending to the courtyard.
“Hello, Dorian,” Leliana greeted him when he emerged from Skyhold’s main doors. As was customary when she was outside, she wore her hood up. He never could tell if she was shielding her fair complexion from the sun; or merely trying to retain her aura of mystery as the Inquisition’s spymaster. They stood at the top of the stairs in the crisp mountain air and leaned against the stone wall to watch the entourage in the courtyard. “You look well,” Leliana observed without actually looking at him.
“As do you, Madame Spymaster,” Dorian said. Below, the hulking grey Iron Bull and his lieutenant, Krem, were speaking with Commander Cullen. From this distance Dorian was unable to read the big Qunari’s expression. Then, at the end of the line, came the Inquisitor himself astride his big bay.
Theodane Trevelyan did not cut the impressive figure that someone like Cullen, or another muscled warrior might; and early in his career, when he’d fumbled to find his leadership style, some had even mistaken Cullen for the Inquisitor. Theo’s prowess lay in archery and stealth, and he moved with flexibility and fluidity. He dismounted and handed his bow and quiver to a waiting footman, and finally turned his face toward the entry to Skyhold.
Dorian did not wave, though he did smile more widely than he had in some time, and the ache in his chest surprised him. Certainly he’d missed his amatus while he’d been mopping up in the Hinterlands and Fallow Mire; but now Theo was so very close, and protocol and etiquette demanded that neither run giggling toward the other.
Below, Theo’s face also cracked into a huge grin. And then he broke into an easy jog that picked up speed as he neared the stone stairwell, heedless of the voices calling for the Inquisitor’s attentions.
Theo had never been one for protocol or etiquette anyway.
“Dorian!” he called, taking the steps two at a time. He stopped just sort of slamming into Dorian, instead gathering him up into his arms and pressing a long and breathless kiss against his lips. Dorian wrapped his arms around Theo’s shoulders, fingers curling into the leather of his coat to pull him closer, before stroking Theo’s brown hair. “Maker, I missed you,” he gasped when he finally pulled away.
“I can hardly blame you,” Dorian told him, one hand lingering on his rosy cheek. He met Theo’s eyes, green like new forest leaves in the spring. “I suppose I missed you as well,” he said with an affected shrug as he turned to go back inside. He conjured a small warming spell--he’d spent so much time inside before the fire recently, that he’d forgotten how bloody cold it was, living in the mountains.
Theo caught his hand and squeezed, a simple gesture, but one that always caught Dorian off guard and made his chest swell with pride and contentment and gratitude. He’d missed more than nightly frolicks in that big bed; he’d missed his love, his companion, his amatus .
Leliana followed a couple paces behind; Dorian didn’t have to see her face to know she was smiling. Though the Inquisitor was a grown man and highly capable, his advisors looked out for his well being better than any parent. He didn’t doubt that many people were less afraid of Theo himself, and more afraid of Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine. And Cassandra, he couldn’t forget; it wasn’t just anyone who could call the newly appointed Divine a personal friend.
“Do you need some time to refresh, Inquisitor?” Josephine asked, meeting them as they entered the grand hallway proper.
Theo’s hand stiffened in Dorian’s, but he flashed Josephine a bright smile. “I have the feeling that ‘yes’ is the wrong answer,” he teased, though Dorian sensed the bite in his words.
“If you need to debrief your clamoring admirers, I can continue to languish on without you for another few hours,” Dorian told him. It wasn’t his first choice; since they’d first met they hadn’t been apart more than a day or two at most. The last two weeks had been bearable, but now Theo stood next to him, holding his hand, smelling of sweat and leather and the cold mountain air and faintly of horse: all comforting things Dorian had missed dearly. But he also understood Theo’s obligations to his position, and he had, after all, waited this long.
“Or you could join us,” Theo suggested, and steered everyone toward the War Room. Dorian didn’t miss the way his eyes crinkled slightly, or the tiny bounce in his step.
“I’ll have the evening meal delivered,” Josephine said in response, unflappable as ever.
“Can I make it up to you later?” Theo murmured as they strode through the hallway that led to the War Room. “I really did miss you,” he added and leaned in to give Dorian a quick kiss on the cheek.
“I know you did,” Dorian said without bothering to disguise how pleased he was at Theo’s public displays. Our lives are too short and complicated to be concerned with what the masses think of us, he’d told Dorian one night before a dwindling fire, while the icy winds howled outside.
They entered and took seats around the war table: a massive slab of lacquered wood atop the dead stump of what would have been an impossibly huge tree. The known world had been etched into it, and tiny flags and markers told the story of Theodane Trevelyan’s conquests. As always, Dorian’s gaze drifted north, where the Tevinter Imperium lay. Theo had promised they’d go there one day, as soon as they’d cleared up the mess left by Corypheus and his minions. Dorian never told him how he pined for it.
Theo leaned back in his chair and rested his right ankle on his left knee, and steepled his long fingers under his chin as he surveyed his world. His marked left hand glowed a subdued acid green. He caught Dorian looking at it and dropped his hands, clutching at the arm of his chair with his left hand, and drumming the fingers of his right on his bent right knee.
Leliana joined them, trailed by Cullen and Josephine. “I appreciate your immediate attention, Inquisitor,” Leliana began. “Josephine and I debated the necessity of this, and are glad you saw the value--”
“Have you been taking diplomacy lessons, Leliana?” Theo teased, and she actually reddened. “What happened to stab first, question later?”
Josephine rolled her eyes, but couldn’t quite subdue her grin, and even Cullen cracked a smile. “Fair enough. I should have learned by now to be direct with you,” Leliana said. She settled down across the table and tossed a sheaf of papers into the center. “You met Charter out in Crestwood?”
Theo nodded. “Region seemed to be doing much better since my last time there,” he said, and gave Dorian a sidelong glance that made them both blush. They’d shared their first kisses on the road to Crestwood, and had made their first tentative overtures on that mission. He cleared his throat and fiddled with his bootlaces. “They seemed to be making a good recovery. Could have used you in the Fallow Mire, though,” he added to Dorian.
“Crestwood is recovering well,” Cullen said, “but Charter’s report was troubling.”
“We were just passing through,” Theo said. “I didn’t get much time to explore more.”
“Nor were you expected to,” Leliana said easily. “You’re just one man. One man who can accomplish quite a bit, but still just one man all the same. Charter shared that there was increased red lyrium growth in the eastern part of the region. She infiltrated a red templar camp and found this.” She gestured to the stack of papers.
Theo stared at the stack, face alarmingly expressionless. People always said the Inquisitor was incapable of lying, because his face always betrayed him. He’d even declined to participate in one of Varric’s games of Wicked Grace, because he knew he wouldn’t stand a chance with Josephine or Dorian at the table. Finally he leaned forward and slid the pile closer to him.
Silent servants scurried in with platters of food and jugs of wine while Theo skimmed through the reports. Josephine hardly dared touch her food, though Cullen dug in with the pragmatism of a career soldier. Leliana picked at bits and pieces, and Dorian just poured himself some wine. Theo shook his head without looking up when he offered wine or food.
The light shifted and Dorian conjured glowing wisps overhead. At long last Theo sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I thought the Chargers had cleaned up the red templars in the Emprise.”
“Their report was thorough, and I trust that the Iron Bull was accurate,” Leliana said. “These communications speak of an old Elvhen fortress serving as their base.”
“Without Corypheus they have no direction. No objective,” Josephine said at last.
“They don’t think the way rational templars do,” Cullen said. He leaned his head back against the pillar. “Lyrium calls to templars, and can drive them mad over time. Red lyrium… well, you saw what the Chargers brought back from their last mission.”
“They were barely human,” Dorian said. “Amatus?” he asked Theo. He had that faraway look in his green eyes, when he was seeing horrors that only he could truly understand. Dorian had taken lives, before and during the Inquisition, but he still didn’t fully comprehend the burden the Inquisitor bore.
Theo’s face relaxed and he stood, stretching. “Cullen, can you see to it that Samson is ready for an audience tomorrow?” he asked. Everyone stared at him. “Yes, Samson,” he said with a sigh. “I’d like a private audience with him. See to it that he’s treated well and is comfortable?” he asked. “And with that, I’m calling this council finished and having some much-deserved time with my love.” He smiled, though it didn’t quite light up his face; he pulled together a plate of food to take upstairs.
Dorian grabbed the wine. They were going to need it.