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oftachancer · 3 months

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Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Dorian/Aran/Tristan

Rating: E

Summary:

Having recently moved from Minrathous to Ostwick to advance his academic career, Dorian finds himself with too much work and, sadly, very little play. Life in a new city can be terribly lonely, and it's not long before he starts feeling... restless.

Tristan and Aran, on the other hand, are university juniors on an exciting journey of self-discovery, and a newly-found interest in vlogging and live-streams. The paths of the three men cross in a way that none of them expects- and everything changes.

A Kinktober prompt that took on a life of its own, this fic is collaboratively written by @oftachancer and @johaeryslavellan ! Check the Ao3 link below for full list of tags :)

Chapter 11: Masks

“When did you even have time to make this?”

Aran rested his cheek on Tristan’s shoulder, enjoying the soft puff of the sweater he’d been knitting during the classes he TA’d. Blue and red, with little bursts of yellow and orange throughout. “Keeps my hands busy when there’s pointless chatter. It looks good on you.” Everything did. The smell of their cocoa was rich and dark and made him want to curl up in front of a fireplace, but they were walking through campus instead, hauling the AV cart back from his last class before the holiday. At least Tristan had been able to come and meet him. Precious moments after weeks of barely seeing him outside of their scrambled video sessions and study dates. “I missed you. You’re so big and strong and you smell good. Tell me you love me.”

Tristan paused midstep. He wrapped his arms around Aran's waist and lifted him off of the ground, pressing a smacking kiss to his lips. "I love you, damn it," he growled softly, in his ridiculous film noir accent. "More than anything in this world, and I've seen all of it."

Aran laughed outright, grinning down at him. “My hero . All the world? And still you love little old me?” He twined his arms around Tristan’s shoulders. “How am I meant to repay such a grand kindness, eh?”

"Easy." Tristan chuckled, setting Aran on his feet and bending forward in a dramatic swoop, holding Aran by the waist. "Kiss me, gorgeous. Kiss me until I can't breathe."

“Music to my feckin’ ears.” Aran kissed him hard, tugging his cap low over his ears in the effort, until they were panting and laughing in the middle of the walk. “Let me get this much back to the AV Lab and we can fetch the shite curry before your sister comes in and you make us eat all your fancy nonsense.”

"You love my fancy nonsense. There's no shame in admitting it," Tristan grinned, straightening. He gave him a last, deep kiss, then went back to pushing the cart leisurely forward. "So, are you officially on holiday now? Any more last minute classes I need to know of?"

“No!” Aran held up his phone and turned it off. “And if they try to call me back for anything, I’m saying this fell in a lake. I’m all yours for fifteen glorious days. So. Catch me up on everything that I’ve missed.”

"I missed you. It was terrible. I don't know how I managed." Tristan blinked at him with puppy eyes and a pitiful, adorable pout. "I demand all of your attention for the next fifteen days, and that's non negotiable."

“What about your Tuesday date nights? Those on hiatus?” He was too bloody cute; that was ecstasy. Every moment of every day; when the breeze blew his hair in his face or he burned his tongue on tea when it was too hot or he was cursing and digging through their drawers looking for just the right blue shirt as though everything didn’t look amazing on him.

"I asked Dorian to reschedule our date for Thursday, when you're meeting with Miranda. And next week... we'll see. I might ask him to reschedule again. Unless..." He sneaked a glance at Aran out of the corner of his eye as he sipped on his hot chocolate.

"Unless?"

Tristan swallowed, licked his lips and shrugged. "I don't know. I was thinking perhaps you might want to meet him. Now that you have time."

“Ooh. Meet him.” Aran waggled his brows. “Serious business?”

Tristan smiled, a spot of colour blossoming on his cheeks. "I like him," he said softly. "I like him a lot. And now that Vivienne's coming back and he won't be my advisor anymore, we could start dating more openly. I think... he'd like that, too." He reached for Aran's hand as they walked, squeezing his fingers lightly. "He's been asking about you. He hasn't asked to meet you yet - he's too shy to do that- but I believe he's curious about you. He's watched all our videos. He won't tell me his username, though," he grinned. "Perhaps, with you there, we'll be able to pry it out of him one way or another."

Shy . Shy wasn’t something he paired with the other parts of Tristan’s stories about his dark, handsome temporary advisor. “If he’s b1gc0ck, I can’t blame him. Some people are so boring on the internet.” Aran handed his ticket into the AV desk and waited for them to stamp it as a girl with bright blue hair emerged to retrieve the cart. “What did he ask about me?”

"Just a couple things. Where we grew up, what we used to do as kids, how we got together... When I told him you work at the university too, he asked me about your field of study. He seemed quite fascinated with your dissertation topic. Though I'm not sure I explained it very well," he said, his eyes narrowing in a perplexed little frown. "It does have to do with those Neromenian tablets that were discovered a couple years ago, right?"

“Aw, you do love me.” Aran leaned up on his toes to kiss his cheek. “Look at you, listening when I drone. Warms the cockles of my heart.”

"What, you thought I was sleeping during that half hour impromptu lecture on Neromenian runes while we were in bed last night? You wound me." Tristan laughed as he wrapped one arm around Aran's shoulders and leaned down to kiss his head.

“I ought to wound you more for staying awake.” Aran tucked himself against Tristan’s side, squinting up at the high gabled roofs of the university buildings. “What’s he doing for Satinalia?”

"I'm not sure. I... don't think he's doing anything, actually. He hasn't got any family in the Marches, and his friends... Well, from what I've gathered, it's the kind you go out for drinks with after work, not those you'd spend holidays with. He'd never admit it, but I think he's a little lonely. Still hasn't really built a life here. You know?" Tristan let out a soft sigh, tightening his hold on Aran ever so slightly. "I just want him to be happy here. With me."

“With you,” Aran echoed thoughtfully. “Alright. Let’s have him over then. Home-cooked meal and the like.” Aran turned them towards the Political Sciences building. “Aye? No time like the present.”

Tristan slowed down just a little. "Are-are you sure? You really want to invite him over for Satinalia dinner?"

“You like him. He’s lonely. It’s a holiday. Why not?” Aran tilted his head back to peer up at him. “Unless you don’t want me to meet him yet?”

"Of course, I do. I suggested it, didn't I? I just thought... it might be too big of a step for you. Satinalia dinner is usually just us two, or Tilly and the lads. We've never really had any of our... you know," he lifted his brows, "coming over for such an occasion."

“Well, no, but our ‘you know’ don’t usually last longer than a week, if that. This has been… nearly three months now?”

"Is three months the preferred time frame after which one gets to meet the parents? Or the boyfriend, in this case?" Tristan grinned. He fished his phone out of his pocket and typed a quick text. The answer came back almost immediately. "He's almost done with work, he says. We could go grab some coffee, warm him up a bit before the grand invitation," he smirked.

Read the rest on AO3!

#dragon age #dragon age au #modern au #dorian pavus #tristan trevelyan #aran trevelyan #college au #dragon age fanfiction #dorian x trevelyan #pavelyan #johaerys writes #steamy

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oftachancer · 3 months

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A post shared by A.D. Armistead (@adarmisteadwrites)

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Check out the amazing cover for our upcoming book - Spirits and Sunflowers! The art was exquisitely created by the fantastic @lethendralis-paints. Follow her and check out her Patreon and other artistic endeavors!

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oftachancer · 3 months

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A post shared by A.D. Armistead (@adarmisteadwrites)

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#oftachancer writes #midnightprelude writes #lethendralis paints #gay romance #original fiction #modern magic #maligned magic #single dads #mage wars #secret powers #modern fantasy #steam heat #Instagram

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oftachancer · 3 months

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Do you love Dragon Age? Do you love handsome mages fighting an oppressive system and protecting the people they love? Do you love magic? Do you love romance and steam 🔥🔥🔥 heat?

Then you are going to friggin love the Maligned Magic series, Book 1: Spirits and Sunflowers releasing on March 20!

Does it have quippy dialogue? Yes.

Is there awesome, technical, and alluring magic? Yes.

Are there mustaches? There is one.

Is there intrigue? Oh, you betcha!

Danger? Hell, yes.

Sex magic? Tell me there’s sex magic?! YOU KNOW WE LOVE YOU, OF COURSE THERE IS.

Check out our instagram and join us!

See you there!

Oftachancer

#dragon age inquisition #da art #original character #dragon age #dai #original fiction #maligned magic #spirits and sunflowers #sexy magic men #mlm stories #cozy queer fantasy tales #rainbow romances

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oftachancer · 3 months

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It’s happening! Cover art is fast approaching completion! Our little baby book is on its way! If you’d like to learn more - and get your hands on a free prequel! - feel free to check out our Instagram!

In the meantime, I’d love to know, what are some things you would want to ask a character in a fantasy novel if you could? No wrong answers! You might just see your question - with our character replies - on our Insta! Credits where they’re due, of course!

Cheers!

Oftachancer

#original character #maligned magic #spirits and sunflowers #midnightprelude writes #oftachancer writes #new series #fantasy fiction

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oftachancer · 3 months

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LONG TIME NO TYPE

Well, that's not entirely true. I've been typing my little (currently frozen) fingers off, but not on Tumblr. If you'd like to see a small portion of my recent activity, please check out my AO3 , where most recently I've been updating a lovely alternate history DA2 story featuring Anders and his long-lost Karl and a very tough and cool Cecily Hawke. @midnightprelude and I also recently wrote a little exploration of Dorian Pavus meeting Astarion (of Baldur's Gate fame) and people seem to really be enjoying their dynamic.

The biggest news, though, is that @midnightprelude and I actually WROTE A BOOK. Welll. Several. A whole series. Then a novella. And then started another series. But the first book of the first series is coming out in March this year (2024)! I, for one, am crazy excited. I'll be posting updates about it here over the next couple of months. If you're interested in learning more - or in reading a prequel tale to the series - feel free to sign up to our mailing list where you'll get updates about release dates, preorders, cover art, etc.

Cheers!

ofta

#dragon age #baldur's gate 3 #dorian pavus #astarion #original fiction #book release #oftachancer writes #midnightprelude writes #maligned magic #spirits and sunflowers

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oftachancer · 10 months

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Getting to know you…:

Thank you for the tag @sillyliterature

last song: Flute Sonata in A Minor, Handel

currently watching: Succession (just started, I usually wait to watch things like this until they’re complete)

currently reading: White Trash Warlock

current obsession: the history of lavender laws

currently playing: Spider-Man: Miles Morales

currently craving: fresh herbs

Tagging, in case anyone wants:

@midnightprelude @johaerys-writes @kallielef @nipuni @vickyvicarious

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oftachancer · 11 months

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Senseless, Pt. 3

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Finally, three years later, I tested positive for COVID-19. Of course, I couldn't suffer alone, so @oftachancer humored me in inflicting the disease on Dorian so we could write Anders taking care of him (and falling in love). This is a 4-part fic which will post daily! You can follow the #senseless da fic to get updates. Written for @30daysofdorian!

He liked me. I’d known he liked men, of course. That was exceptionally obvious and, as Dorian seemed well aware, subtlety wasn’t what he was known for. Varric had once told me that he was all flash and no heat. But Varric hadn’t been standing by his bed last night when Dorian had thought I was asking him to go down- No. If he’d seen the glint in Dorian’s eyes and the slow, measured study as it went from considering to craving, he’d never have claimed Dorian was without heat.

Even with a fever, the man had a way about him. He made slumping over the kitchen table look like performance art.

“I cannot feel my face,” he whimpered, poking his cheek with a spoon. “Is it still there?”

“Still there,” I chuckled, pulling the kettle off the stove as soon as it began to whistle. “Cinnamon apple or orange cardamom?”

“Cardamom.” Dorian traced his brow with the curve of the spoon. “What would you normally be doing right now?”

“Now?” I glanced over at the clock. Half past eight. “I’d still be sleeping or I’d be working.”

“You don’t have to stay up with me. You can sleep.”

“I will after you do.” I poured the steaming water over the herbs, letting them steep in Dorian’s mug. I passed it to him. “What would you typically be doing?”

“Swimming.” Dorian wrapped his hands around the mug. “Sleeping in, if there’s no pool nearby.”

Swimming. I imagined there were a great many people who would pay a lot of money to watch that. No wonder he was in such good shape. I hadn’t been to a gym since high school, and it showed. “I haven’t had much time for hobbies lately.”

“No, I wouldn’t imagine so,” he paused and buried his face behind his elbow to cough. “I was surprised you answered.”

“I’d just gotten off.” I puttered about the kitchen, looking for something that would be easy for Dorian to eat. Why did everything he owned seem to have so many spices? “Lucky timing.”

“Lucky, indeed.” I could feel him watching me. “Nevertheless. Do you still have that garden on your balcony?”

“…more or less.”

“I remember you talking about your marigolds.”

“My poor plants have seen better days, I’m afraid.” Half of them were dead or dying. “No time, you see.”

“I do.” He plucked at the string of the tea bag, wiggling it absently. “Could I impose upon you further, do you think?”

“Hm?” I wondered, turning back to face him. “How so?”

“One of my downstairs maids takes care of all of my indoor plants. She times it when I’m out, so we don’t cross paths, but… she could use the hours. Perhaps I could send her to tend to yours as well.”

“…my garden?” I blinked, staring at him.

“She’s very good. You should see the conservatory.”

“Conservatory.” Why was I still surprised. “Ah- Okay. I can’t-“

“Thank you. I appreciate your willingness to help. The poor girl is bored to tears these days with the lockdown.”

“I was going to say: I can’t afford to pay her. I’ve still got loans-“

Dorian waved a hand. “Not at all what I was suggesting. I have direct deposit for her. She simply refuses to take donations.”

“Oh. Yes.” I felt my cheeks warm again and I thought of the thick wad of cash I’d failed to fit into my wallet. “That would be- Thank you. Some of those plants I’ve had for ages; my rosemary was from a plant I had with me in Ferelden.”

“Write down your instructions. She’ll take good care of them, I’m sure.” Dorian sipped from the mug and sniffed. “Perhaps the tea is old? I can order more.”

“…what?”

“Nothing. It’s usually stronger.” He shrugged. “Perhaps it’s the way Dorothea brews it. I can ask her.”

I studied him curiously. “…can you not taste it?”

“Nor smell it. Not to worry. The heat is pleasant on my throat.”

“Ah-“ I could smell the spices from across the room. I brought the glass jar filled with herbs and orange peels to him, opening it under his nose. “Can you smell this?”

Dorian sniffed, glancing up. “See what I mean? Off. Perhaps the seal is broken. I’ll add it to the list.”

I shook my head, frowning. “I can, though.” I pointed to the far window. “From over there.”

His lashes fluttered and he frowned, sniffing and sipping again. “It isn’t enough that I’m sweating like a desert gardener?”

“I’m sorry, Dorian.” I winced, taking the loose leaf away. “Losing your senses of smell and taste can be one of the symptoms. They should come back after a few weeks.”

“A few- I apologize, a few weeks? I thought you said this would pass in a few days.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “It’s worse? Am I getting worse? I don’t think I can spend another few weeks in this house, Anders. I’ll go stir crazy.”

“Most of your symptoms should be better in a few days,” I began, cautiously. “Then you should be able to get back to work. Though I don’t think there’s really an end in sight for the lockdown, if I’m being quite honest. Is that- Are you- I know a good therapist if you’d like a referral.” Merrill was just as swamped as he was, but was also just as willing to make exceptions for Varric’s friends. “Let’s just focus on today, alright? Where do you keep breakfast things?”

“…breakfast things,” he repeated, massaging the bridge of his nose. “I order from Al Pano’s, two blocks past the gates. Lisetta does bike runs.”

“You don’t- You don’t cook here?” I turned in a slow circle around the massive kitchen. “Why do you have this, then?”

“I have a chef. Wilson. He’s exquisite. The things he can do with a single egg would make your eyes roll in your head.”

“…does he keep any eggs here?” I wondered, wandering towards the walk-in fridge. I opened the heavy door with a grunt, my voice echoing. “Milk?”

“He hasn’t been here since the lockdown,” Dorian said between sips of his tea. “Thus: Al Pano’s. Do you need milk and eggs? I can order them. I do have a wonderful array of cigars and brandy.”

“Cigars and brandy aren’t breakfast.”

Dorian tutted. “Anything can be anything.”

“You don’t need to be smoking when you can barely keep from coughing as it is.”

“Hmph.” Dorian rose slowly from his seat and crossed to the empty refrigerator. “What do you need.”

I sighed, returning to him. “Maybe Al Pano’s for today. I’ll make you a list.”

“Milk and eggs.” He knocked on the refrigerator door twice, swaying on his feet and catching himself against the wall, shaking his head. “Now the room is spinning. I do not like a spinning room.”

I blinked, staring at the refrigerator as it began to overflow with white oblong spheres, apparently cascading out of the back wall on a river of milk. Eggs. Milk and eggs. I pulled Dorian out of the way and slammed the door to the refrigerator shut as milk sloshed against the window. I turned to him, eyes wide. “What?”

His beautiful eyes were rolled back, his breaths short and quick as he held onto the wall. “I’m afraid I might faint soon. I apologize in advance.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist, holding him as steady as I could manage as he slumped, unconscious, into my arms.

With some considerable effort, I managed to carry him to a sofa in the other room, my shoulders aching by the time I sat down next to him. Gods, but he was powerful. Even delirious and drugged, I could practically taste the magic seeping out of him now that he’d used it. Like the air after a thunderstorm, electric and intoxicating.

“Dorian?” I rested my hand against his forehead, waiting for his eyelashes to flutter open again.

“Hello,” he mumbled. “I’m on the sofa.”

“You were about to fall.”

“You can’t keep me out of your lap,” he slurred, sly.

“Why would anyone want to?” I wondered, honestly.

Dorian laughed, resting his cheek on my thigh. “An excellent point.”

“No more spellcasting until your fever is gone,” I murmured, brushing a stray curl from his brow. “We’ll just order food from your apps. Can you handle that?”

“It didn’t go well?” he asked, eyes fluttering closed.

“You passed out.” I reminded him gently. “So no, not really.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever been this tired.” Dorian shivered, the pajama shirt clinging to him with sweat.

“Good. Your body is trying to tell you it needs time to heal.” I touched his cheek gingerly. “Phone?”

He fumbled in his pocket for the device and handed it to me. Even his exhales had a crackle to them: thick, slow breaths. “Thank you.”

“Mmhmm.” I navigated to the app, scanning through the menu. Delicious looking flaky pastries, tartes, toasted sandwiches with eggs or jam. I ordered a few things from his previous orders along with some pastries for myself, letting Dorian doze on me until the order was ready.

The Maker only knew what we were supposed to do with a fridge full of eggs floating in milk.

The doorbell sounded a moment before a text came through to announce the arrival of breakfast and I guided Dorian back to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast and then mine on smooth filigreed plates.

Dorian ate the jammy eggs and toast with a sorrowful expression, occasionally sniffing at things with a grimace. “Weeks,” he mumbled, then looked to me. “How is it?”

“Delicious. Not as good as your Wilson, maybe, but good.” I smiled, resting my chin on my hand, sipping from the excellent coffee Dorian had offered me last night. “There are some studies that suggest breathing in strong scents like lemon and coffee for twenty seconds, thinking of memories you associate with them can help recover your senses.” I shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt.”

“I thought you didn’t want me drinking coffee,” he tucked the blanket around his shoulders a little closer, coughing into the washcloth again.

“Not drinking it. Just trying to smell it.”

Dorian cleared his throat, leaning over to breathe the steam from my cup. “I know what it should smell like. Have you visited Antiva?”

“No, never. I’m assuming you have?”

Dorian grunted quietly, sitting back. “At least once a year. I have to keep my tan somehow.”

“I’ve, on multiple occasions, gotten sunburned while driving,” I admitted. “I’m not much of one for sand, either. It gets all up in your bits and you end up pouring it out of your shoes for weeks.”

“That’s a simple pair of wards.”

I rubbed my nose absently. “Simple for a man who summoned a lake of milk out of thin air, maybe.”

Dorian’s brow furrowed. “I’m out of sorts.”

“When you’re not, I imagine you’re a force to be reckoned with.”

“Ah. Well.” He shrugged, a timid smile curving his lips. “Yes, on all fronts.”

“Including modesty?” I wondered.

“Obviously.” His smile widened, bright white teeth below a ferociously red nose. “I am the most humble person I know. You could say I pride myself on it.”

I rolled my eyes with a chuckle. “You do somehow manage to pull it off.”

“Being exceptional has always been my curse to bear,” he sighed dolefully. “Apparently even my viruses are exceptional.”

It didn’t seem right to mention that his case seemed to be moderate, at worst, so I simply smiled and nodded, waiting for him to finish picking at his plate. “Do you have any idea what you want to do today? I could download some audiobooks from the library or pick up a puzzle or…?”

“A puzzle… I do have a puzzle box that’s been in my family for generations. I suppose I could try opening it. Although I imagine what’s inside of it might be best remaining locked away.”

“Ah… Maybe a movie, then?” They already had enough messes on their hands as it was. “Or a nap? How are you feeling now that you’ve eaten?”

“Tired,” Dorian admitted, “although I’ve been tired since I woke. It’s an unsettling sensation.” He blew his nose heartily into the cloth. “We do have a viewing room. I’ve only used it for presentations.”

“…a viewing room? What’s a viewing room?”

Dorian looked at me as though he were trying to deduce a complex answer to a complex question. “A room… in which one views things?” he inquired, nasal and stuffed up and scraggly. I’d never seen him without a hair out of place and the last hours I’d watched a slow progression of hair curling wildly and beard growing and wondered if that polished perfection weren’t in place to protect us from the chaos of his handsomeness. “You mentioned a film. We have a collection. I’ve not watched any of them, but I’ve been assured they’re all rather exemplary examples of their genres.”

“…you’ve never-“ I stared at him, completely befuddled. “And who are you referring to when you say ‘we’? I thought you said you were here alone?”

“We. The house.” He waved vaguely. “And, I suppose, you, as you are currently in the house. Have I mentioned how very nice it is to have you in the house?”

“Not in those exact words, though you did seem rather grateful last night.” I smiled, watching him gesture. Every movement was so smooth and elegant, even the way he brushed crumbs off of his corner of the kitchen table. He liked me. Dorian Pavus liked me. Maybe he was just sick and lonely- But he said he’d liked me before. So maybe it was real, after all. Maybe. “I don’t mind hearing you say it, though.”

“Well, it is nice.” Dorian sniffled, lifting his chin. “It is not quite the circumstances I would have chosen, I will admit, for your visit or your preference to an enjoyable evening, but we must make do.”

“Must we?” I wondered, blinking slowly. “I’m having a great time. You look extremely endearing with a chapped nose, all tousled and unkempt. I’m almost inclined to take a picture.”

“Gods above and below, I beg you not to. I am hoping very sincerely you will forget that I can look like this.”

“Really? That’d be a shame.” I winked, chuckling to myself. “You’re cute when you’re needy.”

“If you like that,” he paused to cough, “you’ll love me. I have been informed I am very needy indeed.”

“Who told you that?”

“My family. My tutors. I’m afraid it’s part of why I am in this confounded situation in the first place. Poor Collette is also quite needy and my teachers were often one of my main sources of solace at her age.”

“So you’re needy and compassionate.” I clutched my chest. “Oh, Dorian, you’re going to make me swoon.”

“I have tried to do so previously only to be very much rebuffed.”

“Have you. The times you asked me out, or others?”

“What others could there be? I’ve only seen you the twice.”

“I suppose that’s on me.” I shook my head, giddy. “I guess I didn’t think it was possible you’d actually want to go out with me.”

Dorian squinted at him, rubbing his nose with a salve. “Do people often ask you out without the desire to do so?”

“No, I mean-” I laughed again, shaking my head. “No, they don’t. It’s just- I’ve never in my life been asked out by someone who looks like you.” I ran a hand through my hair, which fell loose against my cheeks. “Can you forgive me?”

“Forgive you for what?” Dorian sniffled, gathering his apparently tasteless tea to himself. “Not having been asked out by men who look like me? There aren’t any. I am uniquely blessed by my genetics.”

“You are,” I agreed, smiling warmly. “Dinner from your favorite restaurant the next time I’m off and you’re back on your feet? And maybe- if you’re up for it- I do miss dancing.”

“Dancing I can do.” Dorian held out a hand. “I could dance now. How’s your waltz?”

“Probably not as good as yours, but I can follow a decent lead.” I rested mine atop his lightly. “You’re sure you’re feeling well enough? I don’t want you to get dizzy-“

He shook his head. “That’s the benefit of a slow dance,” he assured me, rising as he drew me over to him. Hand on my waist, his palm dry and warm against my own. Dorian glanced between my eyes. “Alright?”

It was my turn to feel oddly warm and dizzy. I nodded slowly, my gaze not leaving his. Glints of gold hid among the edges of his starlit eyes and I sighed. “Lead on, Maestro.”

“Maestro,” he chuckled. “Hardly. Altus, yes. Sorcerer, yes. Devastatingly handsome, obviously.” Dorian leaned in, brushing his nose gently against mine. He smelled of spices and herbs. His nose was still damp from the salve. “I would like the dinner. And the date. Thank you.”

“You’ll have it,” I promised, knowing in that moment, with my heart fluttering like it’d gone and grown wings, I’d have promised much, much more. “Third time's a charm.”

#senseless da fic #dorian pavus #anders #dorianders #dragon age fanfiction #midnight writes #oftachancer writes #30daysofdorian #dragon age #da art

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oftachancer · 11 months

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Senseless, Pt. 2

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I entered three separate rooms before I found the blasted kitchen. The man had two stoves. Two. Each one probably cost more than my car. And an entire walk-in refrigerator that was nearly empty. I could have fit my entire apartment in that kitchen, not even counting the fridge or the pantries. My little tub of Neapolitan seemed so lonely, sitting on its otherwise empty wide shelf. I stocked the groceries away, placing the various medicines I’d picked up in a line on the counter.

Something for the fever, the cough, the congestion. A veritable panoply of pharmaceuticals. I brought them back up with a large glass of water and a tablespoon, dragging a chair to Dorian’s bedside.

“How’s the patient?” I asked, as cheerfully as I could manage for two in the morning.

Dorian stared at me, bedraggled and somehow glamorous despite his red nose and the dark circles under his eyes. “My throat is staging a rebellion and the reading lamp is now officially too bright. How are you?”

“Tired,” I admitted, offering him pills and measuring out liquids. “But I’ll sleep after you do.”

“You’re welcome to the coffee. There’s a sealed container of a pleasant Antivan roast and a press.”

“Is this your way of asking for some?” I asked, tilting my head.

“It’s my way,” he paused to cough into a washcloth I’d given him earlier, “of offering you coffee.” He closed his eyes. “I’m quite capable of asking for what I want.”

“Good. Yes. Alright.” I glanced down at my hands. “I might make myself some, then.” I glanced down at the test waiting on the nightstand. Well. There was an answer, at least. “You tested positive, I’m afraid. But that means we know what we’re dealing with.”

“I followed all the protocols,” he sniffed, accepting the spoonful of cough medicine with barely a grimace. “I haven’t seen anyone but delivery drivers since the start of this bloody thing. Delivery drivers and one student, but we masked- Damn it, Colette.” He took the pills I handed him and the cup of water. “I should call and see how she’s getting on.” He peered at the pills. “None of these are the drowsy-making ones, are they?”

“The cough syrup is,” I admitted, “but you need the rest. If you try and work through this, it’ll take you three times as long to get over it.”

“…not work?” Dorian looked up at me perplexed. “What, at all? The virus knows if I’m thinking?”

“You need sleep,” I insisted, lifting my brows. “Much of the body’s repair mechanisms are most active during sleep. You should try to keep from doing anything strenuous, mentally or physically, for at least a week.”

Dorian continued staring at me, as though the sheer force of his personality might change the facts or at least my opinion of them. “…surely some activity is healthy. What am I meant to do? Stare at my ceiling?”

“Watch movies. Do a puzzle. Read something light, if it doesn’t make your head hurt.” I frowned. “It will probably only last a week, Dorian. What’s a week to a lifetime of working?”

It was as though I’d told him he would be in traction for months: the sheer horror in his expression. “I can’t be alone doing nothing for days.”

“…you need to rest. Really. It’s crucial.” I lifted my brows, then sighed. “…I don’t have another shift until Tuesday. I’ll need to leave to feed my cats but- I can stay with you if you-“

“Excellent, yes, thank you.” Dorian swallowed the pills and handed the empty glass back to me. “That would be best.”

“You really don’t like being alone, do you?”

Dorian shuddered. “I can’t imagine anyone does. This whole experience has been abhorrent.”

It had been for me, too, but for entirely different reasons. I felt like I’d barely been alone for weeks. I’d been looking forward to my three days off. Maybe I could rescue my poor, neglected herb garden. I simply patted the man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. It’s been hard on everyone.”

“Yes, of course it has. People put on brave faces; I don’t see why. It’s miserable being chopped off from the world without so much as a by your leave. I had appointments and events planned. There was a lovely little cruise to the Rivaini islands I’d been planning for months. Then some little beastie comes along and there's panic in the streets and silence. Silence, even when you play as much music as you can muster-” He broke off in a coughing fit.

I rushed to the bathroom to fill his glass with water again. A pitcher. I should find a pitcher next time I ventured off into the maze. I placed the cool glass into his palm, handing him a tissue to dab at his lips.

“You’re alright,” I murmured. “Maybe we should save the speeches for another time.”

Dorian nodded, grimacing, and cleared his throat into his fist. “I appreciate your presence,” his usually velvety voice scratched as he spoke. “…if you let me know what you need, I will… place the appropriate orders. Which- ah.” He rolled to the side, opening the drawer of the side table and returned with a crisp stack of cash. “There you are.”

“…should I ask why you have a bundle of money in your nightstand?” I stared at the bills, blinking. Maybe I should make more extracurricular house calls.

“One keeps these things around in case the need arises,” Dorian waved a hand wearily. “Was it more? I can forage.”

“…Dorian, I wasn’t planning on asking you for anything. The groceries were only about forty bucks.” This had to be at least five hundred dollars. “I really don’t need you to pay me for my time; I’m happy to play nurse for a little while-“

“Medicines and the like are quite expensive and I’ve been given to understand people are spending thousands for toilet paper. Take it. I’ll only use it as tissues.” He sighed, cuddling under his blanket. “Could you put another cloth on my head? That was nice.”

“Yeah. I can do that.” I sighed, shaking my head with a chuckle. Sweet, the way he hugged the pillows, his usually immaculate mustache grown in and smushed against the covers. I always tried to keep from having crushes on my patients, but I was only human. Mostly. In this way, at least. “I can even do a step better, if you’d like.”

“Oh yes?”

I nodded, wetting the wash cloth again. “Just scoot down a little bit so I can sit against the headboard. You can rest your head in my lap. Keep your tissues handy.”

Dorian opened his mouth and closed it, hummed slightly, and studied me. “That’s very generous. Although, I should warn you, if you don’t think that counts as a strenuous activity, I’m afraid you’ve been doing it wrong.”

I laughed, surprised, then rolled my eyes. “I was going to massage your sinuses.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that euphemism. I did have a lovely tutor teach me to ‘play the flute’ when I was in secondary school.”

I coughed. That seemed like something to unpack when Dorian wasn’t on six different medications. Or to never mention again. “Oh, yes. Snot. The sexiest of bodily fluids.”

Dorian sniffled, blinking blearily. “It was your suggestion.”

“I meant it in earnest.” I laughed again, unable to help myself. “To help with the congestion. The massage,” I added quickly, “not the euphemism.”

“Ah, well. One easily trips into hope. A massage is also appreciated.” He shifted down the bed and looked up expectantly. “I was wondering what the tissues were for.”

“Dorian?” I asked softly, placing a pillow on my lap and running my fingers through his hair. I knew enough not to expect he’d feel the same after his fever subsided. Sickness could make a three look like a ten. “Ask me again in a week, if you’re still interested?”

He sighed under my hands, his silver eyes peering up at me. “Ask you… what, precisely?”

“On a date. Or a different type of massage altogether.” I smiled slightly, rubbing circles against his temples. “I’ve got a policy against seeing my patients, but since you’re not technically that- When you’re feeling better, if you still want to see me, I’m not saying no forever, just for now.”

Dorian’s brow lifted, his lips curling. “You can’t say no; I haven’t asked you anything.” He dabbed his tongue to his lower lip. “You can ask me, if you like. You’ve already turned me down twice. A third would be too much for my fragile sensibilities.”

“…twice?”

“Hmm. Yes. At Hawke’s Disco Ball and Varric’s reading. I’m not surprised you don’t remember. Insulted, but not surprised.”

“What, I-“ I stared at him, bewildered. Then frowned. “You were being- Oh.” Had what he’d taken for drunken jokes been- “You were talking about me?”

He chuckled, closing his eyes. “When I asked if you’d like to get a drink later? Did you imagine I was having a conversation with your shadow?”

“Excuse me, you didn’t use those exact words.” I lifted my brows. Something about how I’d intended to spend my evening? To which, like an idiot, I’d answered honestly: falling asleep to a tacky Wintersend movie with a bowl of ice cream. I had no idea he was even remotely interested in me. Why should he be? All he’d have to do is crook his finger and get anyone he wanted. “…I’m sorry,” I murmured, massaging the sides of his beautiful, beautiful face, feeling the heat rise in my own. “I didn’t realize.”

“Didn’t you?” He opened his eyes just enough that they were like mercurial crescents beneath dark thick lashes. “I’m rarely accused of being subtle.”

“Ah, well,” I chuckled, shaking my head. “I’ve always been a bit of a slow learner.”

“Unlikely.” Dorian watched me drowsily. “If you had realized… would it have changed your answer?”

“If I’d realized you honestly wanted to take me out-“ I met his gaze, as solemn as he��d been when he’d announced his impending doom. “I’d have said yes. I will tell you, though: I don’t really drink alcohol anymore. There are better ways to my heart.”

“Are there?” he asked, yawning into the pillow. “Like what?”

“The fact that I was the person you called when you thought you were on your deathbed.” I hummed, massaging the bridge of his nose, handing him a tissue. “Blow.”

He did, sighing pitifully. “The only other doctor I know is miserable and went into hiding a few years ago.”

“I suppose you’ll need to make do with me, then.” I squeezed his shoulder gently. “How’s your breathing, now?”

“I feel like I swallowed very sour brandy. Very strong, sour brandy. Is that breathing?” Dorian grimaced. “I do dislike medicated drowsiness.”

“It’ll help you sleep through the coughing,” I said, by way of apology.

“You know best.”

“I do.” I watched the furrow in his brow ease over long minutes. “Sleep well, Dorian.”

#senseless da fic #dorian pavus #dorianders #anders #dragon age fanfiction #midnight writes #oftachancer writes #30daysofdorian #dragon age #da art

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oftachancer · 11 months

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Major Arcana: The World

Written by @oftachancer and I for the @30daysofdorian event!

Masterpost | First | Previous

CW: conversion therapy (aftermath); successful blood magic ritual; recovering from trauma; adopted children; suggestive content

The ceremonial robes of the Magisterium still seemed strange hanging in Dorian’s bedroom, even weeks after he donned them for the first time. Cleared of any and all trace of the spell that had condemned his father to a life of imprisonment.

Nothing had changed and everything had.

Dorian frowned at his reflection, listening to the sounds of birds chirping gleefully outside of the window.

It was a day he’d spent his whole life preparing for, dreaming of… and yet it paled in comparison to the last two weeks.

He was married. He’d been married, in the Imperial Chantry, by the Divine Himself, to the love of his life. And a few days before that- before the fanfare and lauding bells and fireworks and heavy silk robes - he’d held Rilienus beneath the Maecilia cherry trees and promised him everything.

Everything that Rilienus had carefully retrieved from the Maleficar’s Rishiri arcana until there was no trace of the stranger’s resonance in Dorian’s aura.

All of him.

There had been a sort of softness to reality until those final threads had been dislodged. An acceptance of his state and what he could manage. And when that had gone… Dorian had wept. He’d wept for days. For himself. For Rilienus. For the toll the past months had taken on the twins and Rilienus’ parents and their friends. For his father. For the understanding he wished could have been possible that had always been just out of reach.

And now he was married. And the twins were officially of House Maecilia and Pavus in the ledgers of the Imperium, a fact that didn’t entirely sit comfortably on Dorian’s shoulders. The name. The responsibility. The mantle of the Magisterium. All more stiff and heavy than they’d seemed from the outside.

“Don’t frown,” Rilienus chided quietly, slipping into the waiting room behind him. “You’ll wrinkle.”

“I would never,” Dorian murmured, leaning back as Rilienus wrapped his arms around him. “Let’s stay back here another hour, hm?”

“I’ll tell you what.” Rilienus kissed the side of his neck, adjusting the cant of the mantle. “We’ll go out there. They’ll send that lovely embroidery through this bland silk. And then we can come back here and I will peel you out of every layer.”

“Every single one. Slowly.”

“Of course, slowly. Lingering over each and every tie and fastening.” He nibbled at the back of Dorian’s ear. “Maritus meus.”

The word still sent a wave of warmth through him every time he heard it. He thrilled at his touch, running his hands through Rilienus’ curls. “Or we could stay here and postpone the pomp and circumstance for another day.”

“I want to go home.” Rilienus’ breaths puffed warm against his skin. “I want to go walk through the grounds with the twins and find the site for our house.” He stepped to the side slightly, wrapping his arms around Dorian’s waist. “You’re being Named. It is a good day. Isn’t it?”

“For something I’ve been working towards for my entire life, I feel surprisingly unprepared.” Dorian kissed the crown of his head. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“As am I.” Rilienus rested his fingers over his heart, gazing at them in the mirror. “I’m proud of you, Magister Pavus. Pater is overjoyed that you’ll be able to sit with him. There’s nothing to worry about. You’ll find your footing. You always do.”

“I’m terrified, Ril,” he admitted to his husband, within the circle of his arms. A Pavus doesn’t fear. But that was never true, was it?

“Alright,” Rilienus answered, framing Dorian’s face between his palms. “Tell me.”

“Do you think it will change me?”

“I do.” Rilienus thumbed his cheek. “It’s a lot, after you’ve only just returned to yourself.”

“I don’t want to become him.”

“You won’t.” He was a boulder in a thunderstorm, sure and implacable. “You are brave. You are powerful. You are exceptionally handsome.” Rilienus kissed him warmly. “There is nothing that could make you become him, Dorian. Not even Rishiri arcana.”

Dorian kissed him again, sighing against his lips. The silk of his stoll was soft and still smooth under his fingertips. “I’m looking forward to sitting with your father, too. I hope we can do some good for our poor, Blighted country.”

“Now, now. No Blights up here.” He nibbled Dorian’s lip. “You will do wonderful things. You were always going to do incredible things.”

“I love you,” Dorian murmured, pressing their foreheads together. “I adore you. What about after you ravage me in my office, we take a trip to Antiva for a couple of weeks?”

“Oh?” Rilienus smiled, nuzzling him. “Magisterial duties?” he asked, teasing, his palms sliding up Dorian’s back. “Inspecting the wine stores?”

“Marital duties,” Dorian disagreed softly. “We did discuss a honeymoon before Radonis swept in and made a show of our nuptials.”

“We did. You were going to come to Rivain with me. Meet Talia.” Rilienus kissed his cheek. “We can swing by on the way home.”

“I’d love that. With the twins?”

“Oh, you want to bring the twins to Antiva?” Rilienus asked, leaning back an inch. “I suppose we could. There would be more clothes on you.”

“Hm…” Dorian traced a line down his chest. “Perhaps we should find a governess to watch them while we’re otherwise occupied.”

“A governess like my mother and the tutor we’ve yet to hire?” Rilienus inquired, sighing, his breath growing quick at Dorian’s touch. “Who will stay with them here.”

“Maybe when they’re older, then,” Dorian chuckled, tracing his jaw with his lips. “This particular trip can be just for us.”

His head tilted back on a deeper sigh. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had something just for us.”

“It has been.” Dorian kissed his knuckles. “Then let me go start my reign and we can begin the rest of our lives.”

“Your reign.” Rilienus thumbed his chin, then his lips, brushing the digit into Dorian’s mouth. “Your reign over me has been strong for several years now, my liege.” He rubbed their cheeks together, humming low, sliding his thumb back and forth, tasting of yuzu, then stepped back and adjusted Dorian’s robes as a bell tolled. “It’s time.”

Dorian exhaled slowly, smiling back at Rilienus, focusing on the thought of eating sliced mango from his abdomen as opposed to facing the entire Magisterium and accepting his birthright.

Step by step, he strode across the chamber floor he’d attended with his father when he was a boy and Alexius when he was a man. The two men he’d loved as fathers, both out of reach.

Walking on the careful, shifting mosaics felt different as a Magister. Heavier. He was to be a shining light for all of the Imperium, to serve for the good of its people. He never had imagined he’d have the chance, nor that he’d do so with the support of so many people who loved him. He caught the gaze of his friends, already sitting in their seats: Maevaris Tilani, resplendent; Felix Alexius, sitting his father’s seat in absentia; Marius Maecilia, peering at him with eyes that seemed suspiciously shining. He stood before them all, watching silk strands slither through the air and embroider themselves in a design that mixed the ancient seal of his house with his own. Colors, where his father’s had been pure gold.

He met Rilienus’ eyes across the room, dipping his head with a smile. It was theirs, this seat, hard won and dearly protected. It would be their children’s after they were gone. One day, hopefully far, far in the future, Rilienus would stand where he did now and Dorian would watch him ascend, too.

To work towards a world where people like them wouldn’t need to work so damned hard just to be treated like humans. Where the unconditional love the Maecilias had shown for their son was the norm, not the exception.

Dorian bowed to the Archon, deeply, accepting his robes and the responsibilities of his office, rising only when he heard the roar of applause from around him.

It had been the last order of business for the day. A gathering of Houses, ancient and new. There was little time for celebration. There was the work of the seat ahead of them. Strangers who suddenly spoke to Dorian as though they were old friends, already setting business before him.

He watched the Archon summon Rilienus from the back of the hall with a flick of his hand and saw them disappear into a chamber beside the main hall as Dorian’s hand was shaken or filled with scrolls or notes. When Rilienus emerged a few minutes later, his lazy, proud smile was gone.

“Thank you very much,” Dorian demurred, shaking hands with Linus Volantium. “I look forward to working with you on the naval project, but I’m afraid I’ll need to read the contents of your proposal and I promised my husband I’d find him after the ceremony.”

“When the Magisterium reconvenes then,” Volantium huffed, brusque. “If we last that long.”

Rilienus met his eyes across the chambers and then tucked his hands into his robes and set off in the direction of Dorian’s new office.

Dorian wove his way through the crowd, but it took ages to make it to the other side. As soon as he broke free of the onslaught, he took off after him at a light jog.

Rilienus was waiting for him at the door of the office, arms crossed. “Well?” he asked, sounding a little breathless despite standing still. A little pitched, like when he was answering Bella’s excitement and trying to calm her down. “Big day. You looked good up there. In there. You belong.”

“…what is it, amatus?” Dorian asked, wrapping his arms around his waist. “You look as though you’ve found a bee in your boot.”

“I’m going to need your help. Talking to Felix.” Rilienus touched the wards on the door, unlocking various mechanisms and traps, and ushered Dorian inside, shutting it behind them. “They’ve located Gereon.”

“…where is he?”

“Somewhere called Redcliffe. In Ferelden, of all the godsforsaken places.” Rilienus grimaced. “And it seems… it seems Ferelden is… The word is that the Veil seems to have… torn. It isn’t rumor. It’s true.”

“Pardon?” Dorian blinked. That was impossible. It wasn’t supposed to happen. But even so, they’d noticed some of their devices acting strangely in the past several weeks. “What does- Radonis can’t be thinking of sending you.” Dorian winced. “He is, isn’t he?”

“Not exactly.” Rilienus tongued his teeth. “He wants to send us.” He frowned. “The spies he sends to speak with Gereon, or get close enough to see what he’s doing there, keep disappearing.”

“Us.” Dorian wrinkled his nose, the dream of beaches and Rilienus stretched out naked on them slipping between his fingers like grains of sand. “To Ferelden.”

“His radiance is of the opinion that you will be able to reach Gereon. And that between the two of us, we will be able to gather more information about the disturbance with the Veil. The Maker only knows what they’ve done to it.” Rilienus took his hand. “I don’t particularly adore the idea either. At least we will be together.”

“This does not count as our honeymoon.”

“Of course not,” he agreed readily.

Dorian squeezed his hand, bringing it up to his lips. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as possible. I explained we still needed to hire a tutor.” Rilienus shook his head. “And we’ll need to take a ship across the Waking Sea. So. Definitely not a honeymoon.”

“Vishante kaffas,” Dorian groaned, massaging his temples. “I will take you to Antiva. I will make love to you in a cabana for at least three weeks.”

“That’s the spirit.” He leaned up to press a kiss to Dorian’s forehead. “Just one way. Once I’ve found a safe place for an end port, we’ll be able to bend the space on the way back.”

“I’m dreadful on boats,” Dorian mumbled. “I’m not sure our vows will last through weeks of seasickness.”

“Darling, there is nothing that can dampen my vows to you. You’re mine. No sea swell will take you from me.”

“I’ll remind you of that when I’m green and groaning,” Dorian sighed, leaning into his arms. “Let’s go home. I’d like to enjoy you on land for as long as I can get away with.”

#dorian pavus #rilienus maecilia #dorian x rilienus #dragon age fanfiction #30daysofdorian #midnight writes #oftachancer writes #major arcana fic #dragon age #da art

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oftachancer · 11 months

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Senseless Pt. 1

Finally, three years later, I tested positive for COVID-19. Of course, I couldn't suffer alone, so @oftachancer humored me in inflicting the disease on Dorian so we could write Anders taking care of him (and falling in love). This is a 3-part fic which will post daily! You can follow the #senseless da fic to get updates. Written for @30daysofdorian!

I received the call at half past midnight, on my way to the parking garage after a double at the hospital. I peeled my mask off my face, dabbing at the sweat and grime that had collected on my stubble throughout the day. Leaning against the door to my beat up Honda, I answered.

“Hello?” I asked, cheerfully as I could muster.

“Is this-“ A horrible, deep cough sounded from the other line. “My apologies. Is this Anders? I believe we’ve met before at-“ Another hacking cough. “-one of Varric’s soirées?”

I blinked, staring at the screen. It was a number I didn’t recognize, with an area code- Was that Tevinter? Fenris’ was only one number off. And then, the image of the gorgeous, if showy, friend Varric had been bringing around to Hawke’s parties for the last year or so floated into my mind.

Pavus, I think? Dorian? That sounded right. Dorian Pavus from Tevinter was calling me in the middle of the night.

Maker, he sounded like death.

“This is Anders,” I said, realizing I’d left him hanging while my gears turned. “What’s going on?”

“I think I’m dying,” Dorian continued, his voice a low rasp. “Varric said you could help?”

“Dying,” I repeated softly. My bones ached, that weary, heavy feeling that only came from too long on my feet. He probably had what everyone else had, poor bloke. “Is there anyone with you?”

“No, I’m-“ Dorian sniffed, clearing his throat. “Just me.”

That settled it, then. Guess I wouldn’t be going to bed quite yet.

“Text me your address,” I said softly, opening my car door and slipping inside. “I’ll pick up some essentials and be right over. You can pay me back when I get there.”

“…what?” I could hear the confusion in his voice, almost imagine the expression on his handsome features. Wide eyed and wondering, as though someone had just solved a puzzle that’d been plaguing him.

“Your address. I’ll be over in half an hour. Okay?”

“Okay.” The sigh on the other line sounded like Dorian was casting off the weight of the world: relieved and uncertain at once.

I picked up half a dozen tests, some over the counter meds, several boxes of tissues, and the ingredients for chicken noodle soup before heading across town. The neighborhood was weird, a kind of suburb within the city, tree-lined and manicured. Not a pothole or piece of garbage to be seen. I parked on the street, even knowing I’d get a ticket in the morning, and wandered up to Pavus’ ridiculously large house for one.

One of the better things about being possessed, I mused, ringing the doorbell and shifting my reusable shopping bags to my other arm, was not needing to worry about getting sick. It had been ten years since I’d merged with Justice and since then, not so much as a head cold. Or maybe it had been the Joining. Tough to say; there hadn’t been much time between the two. The only problem was that when my coworkers started dropping like flies with fevers, I was often the only one left manning the trenches. And then there was the part of me that could never turn down a patient, no matter how weary I was.

“Hello?” The voice spooked me before I realized there was a call box just behind my shoulder. A camera swiveled and focused on my face.

I waved towards the camera, holding up the bags. “It’s Anders. You called me and said you thought you were dying?” As though he’d forgotten in the last half hour. Though, if Dorian was delirious with fever, perhaps he did. “Do you mind letting me in?”

“Upstairs.” The sniffle was static and electronic, but the door buzzed and opened slightly.

I glanced around the darkened doorway, sighing, before toeing the door open and wandering inside.

It was almost spookier in the house than outside, where at least there was the light from the moon and the street lamps to see by. Inside there was only a thin sliver of light from beneath the door on the second floor. I kicked off my boots near the entrance then carefully stepped up the wide stairs, nearly taking a tumble on the plush runner.

“Dorian?” I called quietly, as soon as I’d arrived on the landing.

I heard him attempting to dislodge one of his lungs- it sounded like an angry ghost shaking a wet wardrobe. There was almost too much house. Too many shadows in unnecessary hallways. I nudged the door open and found him.

The scene, to put it mildly, was obscene. I had remembered he was handsome, but I’d never seen him without his shirt. Muscles sculpted like something you’d find teenagers drooling over in an art museum. A jawline that belonged on the cover of a magazine. Somehow preternaturally attractive despite being surrounded by empty tissue boxes with a miserable expression on his very pretty face. “I’m dying,” he croaked.

“Hmm,” I set my bags down at the foot of his bed, hoping the ice cream wouldn’t melt on his rug. It looked expensive. His blankets were sweat damp, but he was still shivering, poor man. I sat down lightly on the silk coverlet he’d shoved to the side, brushing away a mountain of tissues. “Do you mind if I take a look at you?” I cleared my throat, glancing away. “As- a doctor and a friend?”

Dorian sighed deeply, collapsing back into his mountain of pillows with a weary, wheezing cough. “Just tell me how I long I have. I need to make out a will and my lawyer is too sick to make a house call.”

“Alright,” I murmured, my tone as serious as his own, if only to comfort. I pressed my palm to his forehead. Burning, as I suspected. I stood, rummaging through my bags for the drugstore thermometer and pulled it out of its plastic packaging. “You’ve almost definitely got a fever, but I’d like to see how high. Mind holding this under your tongue for a moment?”

The fellow groaned, opening his mouth. A few seconds later the thermometer beeped. One hundred and two. Not awesome, but not necessarily life-threatening. I pressed my ear to his naked chest to listen to the sound of his breathing, my cheek coming away sweat-slick and smelling faintly of spices. I hummed, stepping away. Pulse was normal for a man in his thirties with a fever laying about. I took out one of the tests and handed him a swab. “Up your nose for fifteen seconds. Unless you want me to?”

Dorian looked at me pitifully, then stared at the swab for a long moment before holding out his hand. “I haven’t put anything up my nose since university, you know,” he grumbled, wincing as he thrust the white tip up and blinked away reflexive tears.

Something about that expression made me want to hug him close. I bit my lip on a laugh as he made a truly spectacular array of faces, finally handing the swab back to me. I readied the rest of the kit, letting the sample run.

“How long have you been feeling this way?” I wondered, tossing the trash and the pile of tissues into the trash can I found in Dorian’s massive en suite bathroom.

“Yesterday it felt like a cold. The day before I thought my allergy medicine wasn’t quite up to par.” He had the most exquisite eyes, silver and shining with the tears as he hugged a pillow to his side. “I don’t get sick. I’m fundamentally against it.”

“Everyone gets sick from time to time,” I called from the other room, wetting a wash cloth with cool water and returning to press it against Dorian’s forehead. I didn’t feel the need to mention my own exception to that rule. “Is your kitchen on the first floor?”

“Yes,” he coughed, covering his mouth with a corner of his sheet as he leaned into my hand. “But I sent the staff home weeks ago.”

“Hm?” Staff? I guess that made sense, with a house this big. “No, I brought some essentials.” I wiggled my brows. “Ice cream, tea, and soup. The most important food groups for someone with a respiratory virus.”

“So it is the blasted Blight.” He touched his brow, collapsing back to his pillows with a deep sigh; it should have been a performance, but his despair somehow seemed genuine despite the dramatics.

Blight. I had to laugh at the nickname they’d given the disease. The Blight’s younger, weaker cousin perhaps. Twice removed. “If by ‘Blight’ you mean griffonpox, we’ll have a better idea in twenty minutes. Seems likely, given your symptoms, but it’s hard to say without a diagnostic.”

He whimpered, burying his face against the silk pillow. “I can’t go to a hospital. Please bring me a pen and paper and I will outline my donations.”

“…you’re not going to die, Dorian,” I said, as calmly as I could manage. I rested my hand on his shoulder. I was exhausted. Beaten down. Long weeks full of long days. Even so, I couldn’t just abandon a friend of a friend who seemed convinced he was in such dire straits that he needed to get his affairs in order. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

“Would you?” His lower lip trembled as he lifted his gaze to mine.

“I don’t mind.” How could I possibly, possibly refuse that face? Merrill had already been by to feed Pounce anyway. He’d be upset, but he could wait until morning. Besides, Dorian’s worst couch was still probably more comfortable than my lumpy, second hand mattress. “I’ll just put some of this stuff away then, and be right back? Do you need anything before I go?”

“…I’m really not going to die?” he asked quietly.

“From this?” I lifted my brows. “Probably not. We’ll just need to keep an eye on your breathing and get your fever down and you should be just fine.”

Dorian sniffled, fetching a tissue from the box I’d found in the bathroom. “…thank you,” he rasped soberly, folding the tissue carefully after he’d used it, with all the sobriety of a judge. “I appreciate your time.”

“A friend of Varric’s is a friend of mine,” I shrugged. Most of them, anyway, until they’d proven themselves otherwise. “I’ll be right back.”

#senseless da fic #dorian pavus #anders #dragon age fanfiction #midnight writes #oftachancer writes #dragon age #da art #dragon age inquisition #30daysofdorian

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oftachancer · 11 months

Text

Major Arcana: Magician

Written by @oftachancer and I for the @30daysofdorian event!

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CW: conversion therapy (aftermath); successful blood magic ritual; recovering from trauma; adopted children; attempted assassination

There was a reason that Rilienus Maecilia had been collected from Carastes at his matriculation and brought directly to an audience with the Archon. There was a reason the Consilior kept him close at hand. He wasn’t, Rilienus would happily admit, even close to the most powerful mage in Tevinter - but for the fact he shared his bed with the man who was. But they didn’t know that.

No.

What they knew - what everyone knew - was that Rilienus understood magic. He understood it intrinsically. He finessed patterns and stoneworks and alchemy as only an artist could, drawing the unexpected out of what had become rote and finding paths through what seemed impenetrable.

So Halward Pavus should have known better. Even without a shred of decency or love or compassion, he should have known better than to fuck with Rilienus.

And Rilienus had let him bloody know it. He’d slipped past the Pavus wards with Jules and Ghislain standing guard, had collected his specimens - and a few interesting documents he’d found from a suspiciously well-warded and locked drawer in the man’s office - and had left without a trace.

But absence without evidence was a kind of evidence in itself. There weren’t many who could do what he did. A handful, really; many of whom Rilienus knew personally because he’d either learned from them or taught them himself.

So when he saw Halward Pavus in the long tapestried hall outside the Senate chambers, Rilienus stopped and met his eyes. And smiled.

He had to smile. Because anything less than pleasant cordiality would - inevitably, Rilienus felt - lead to him driving something sharp between Halward’s ribs again and again and again-

“…Maecilia.” Halward’s face was a careful mask, giving nothing away, save for a slight, almost imperceptible, brief wrinkle in his brow that was so similar to the one Dorian wore when he was irritated that it startled Rilienus.

“Senator Pavus,” he greeted him. Bowed. Breathed. “I apologize that I’ve been away. You’re quite well, I hope? Anything you might require assistance with?”

“I do, as it happens.” Halward crossed his wrists at his spine, his eyes the mirror of Dorian’s, but cold. “Do you have a moment?”

“A few.” Rilienus made a point of checking the intricate watch that hung from a chain at his belt. “I am scheduled to attend the Archon within the hour. Until then.” He waved a hand towards the high arch that led towards the shaded maze of hedges outside. “What would you have of me?”

“I will admit, I find the timing of your absence curious,” Halward hummed, giving nothing away. “Sudden. Unexpected.”

“Do you? Find it curious?” Rilienus asked quietly. “I wasn’t aware you had taken an interest in my presence or lack thereof.”

“Only passing.” Halward lifted his brows meaningfully. “You are aware my son has gone missing.”

“Missing?” Rilienus folded his hands at his back. “I recall he did fall off the map. Several months ago, wasn’t it? I remember you mentioning there was no cause for concern. Has that changed?”

“Ah. Missing again, I suppose I should clarify. He returned to Minrathous, briefly.”

“Oh, yes?” He’d knocked two of Rilienus’ teeth loose in a public square for hugging him from behind. Rilienus lifted his brows. “Are you concerned that some foul play has occurred, Senator?” he asked benignly. “He is, of course, an adult and capable of choosing his whereabouts for himself. But if you believe that someone might have potentially harmed one of the glorious stars in the Archon’s helm, I am happy to prioritize investigating his safe return.”

“I am certain you are happy to do so, Maecilia.” Halward smiled coolly. “Particularly as you were the last person to be seen with him.”

“Oh, now, Senator,” Rilienus purred as he tongued the back of his teeth, bringing his smile forward again. “We both know that isn’t entirely true. Don’t we.”

“Is it not?” Halward tutted, shaking his head. “I’ve heard differently. You attacked my son in broad daylight and he defended himself.”

Rilienus breathed through his teeth. Slowly. In and out. “Well, it’s so much more charitable to do something in the light rather than in the shadows. Gives a fellow a chance to disagree and make himself heard. Not your style, I’ll grant you.” He plucked a tender gray rabbit hair from his sleeve. “Was there an accusation you were going to make?” he asked pleasantly. “I would be more than pleased to take any complaint to a more public hearing.”

“Just rumors.”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Rilienus disagreed. In. Out. Hands still. He’d promised Dorian this trip was only to put the pieces in place for action. That was all. Pieces. Pawns. Plans. He wanted to stuff his fist down Halward’s throat and watch him choke to death. He widened his eyes. “There’s quite a frightening collection of evidence, actually.”

“So long as my son is safe.” Halward’s hands twitched at his sides. “You can collect as much as you like.”

“Safe,” Rilienus echoed lightly. “Do you know: I think we might have very different definitions for that term. Language is so interesting. Safe. Responsible. Father. Fealty. Friend. Think of the infinite fractals each word summons. It is a marvel.”

“Then it is as I suspected.” Halward nodded, peering up at the summer sky for a moment before meeting his gaze. “Thank you for your time.”

“I do hope I will see you at the consiliare this afternoon, Senator,” Rilienus bowed, keeping his eyes on the man. “Perhaps I can even find some more precise answers for you by then.”

“I’m afraid my other obligations call me back to Qarinus.” Halward watched him steadily.

“My lord, I assure you,” Rilienus smiled sharply. “There is nothing there that can help you.”

“You mean to destroy my name. And his.”

“By no means,” Rilienus assured him. He could taste blood on the water. He could see the shine of it on that marble fucking ceiling as clearly as he had in Dorian’s memory. “You did that months ago.”

“All that I did, I did for my family.” His voice was barely audible above the breeze. “You wouldn’t understand that, would you? What have you ever known of sacrifice?”

“Sacrifice,” Rilienus lingered on the hissing consonants. “Another fascinating selection from the lexicon. I’ve known some, as it happens. All my own, though. Not…” he tutted softly. “Thirty seven, not including the focus, and in one fell sweep? You’re rather a glutton, Senator. I wouldn’t have guessed it. Just between you and I, it’s probably a very good thing that your son is somewhere where he can’t learn exactly what you did.”

“I pray he never does.” Then, for a moment, Halward dipped his chin. “Dorian has always had too soft a heart.”

“I think you mistake that for the possession of the organ in the first place.” Rilienus felt his nostrils flare. “Why don’t we walk together. We can see if the Archon possesses one that might take pity on you.”

“I think not, Maecilia.” Halward’s eyes flashed with malice, just for a moment. “He told me of your plans, you realize. I couldn’t allow you to ruin him more than he’s already managed for himself.”

“Halward.” Rilienus idly turned the ring on his pinky, seeding it with just enough mana to awaken the inscriptions within. “Respectfully. If either of us is a ruiner of names and legacies, it is most certainly you. Don’t make it worse.”

“I have no intention of doing so.” Halward exhaled slowly, the image of him shivering in the air. “Farewell, Rilienus. I don’t expect we’ll meet again.”

“Coward,” he hissed, snapping his fingers through the air to collect the resonance while it lasted. “I will find you. That is a promise.”

“A promise you won’t be able to keep,” Halward asserted as he faded from view. And that was when Rilienus felt the sharp sting of a needle against his shoulder.

They landed hard.

Rilienus had been casting peregrination circles for years. Muscle memory, drawing runes into the air, reaching through to touch ley lines and follow them like a kite in the wind.

He’d never landed hard before. Knees and palms scraping the stones in the courtyard. The scent of cherries mingling with the sour air on his tongue.

He wheezed, shivering as his father’s arms curled around him. “Lab,” he croaked.

Air.

He could feel his throat closing.

It was a wonder that it hadn’t yet. That he could still breathe. That he had had time to find his father before-

“I’ve got you,” Marius said, lifting him up onto his feet and holding him against his side. “Stay with me. Remember what we know about poisons.”

“In a pinch,” Rilienus wheezed. “Will.”

“Just so.”

“It’s- already- with the Archon. Vials. Ledger. Notes. Handed-“ he paused, gasping for air. “This morning. Tell them- love-“

“You’ll tell them yourself.”

Rilienus stumbled over a flagstone, his lashes fluttering.

“Rilienus. Cashew.”

The light wavered and tilted. He couldn’t feel his lips. “Pater-“

#dorian pavus #rilienus maecilia #halward pavus #dragon age fanfiction #30daysofdorian #midnight writes #oftachancer writes #major arcana fic #dragon age #da art

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