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meowsgirldrawing · 5 months

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Fenris, meet Brivia...and her magic!

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Word- 2,500

“Let’s see here…” Dorian’s finger traces under his chin, brow deep in ponder as his eyes trail over the books, “Would ‘Serah Mastry’s Relics’ be a best match? Or perhaps ‘History of the Soulistic Elements’ serves better?”

The woman next to him thinks hard, thumbing through the first’s description.

“Maybe…the second? I was hoping to find out more on the Elemental factors, not really a collection in vagueness.” Hawke decides, nodding fairly.

Dorian’s reaction is nothing but understanding, putting away the others and helping her to find a few more. Never can be too safe- especially when dealing with the magical arts well known to both.

The only non-mage in the room stands meters away, posed against a wall pillar. His face, specifically his green eyes, is drawn into absolute boredom. And maybe a tad of untoned anxiousness. His fingers tap along his dark coat, his left foot- the one on the ground- taps silent beats on the floor, the rest of his body tense.

Fenris, while having moved on for himself from his past of Tevinter for the most part, still doesn’t enjoy being back in his ‘home country’. Maker knows how he and Hawke were even able to sneak into Minrathous just to speak with the former Inquisitor’s deemed best friend, all in the hopes of finding specific items for a friend of their own.

Honestly- A mage and a lyrium-adorned elf.

It would’ve sent tongues wagging and swords- or staffs- drawing if they had been seen.

Anyhow, after explaining the situation to Magister Dorian Pavus, an apparent ‘good’ Magister- Fenris remains to keep his eyes on him, no doubt the mage feels it so- he graciously guided them to one of his main libraries, quick to grab a good few well known on the shelves.

The elf is silent in his sigh, dreading how slowly time is passing. Hawke seems quite the opposite, given how she and Dorian burst into a small fit of laughter

His ear pricks up at footsteps.

With head-turning jadedly, his thoughts turn sour.

There's a young girl, who can't be older than 8, clinging to the hand of a servant elf. They pause somewhat in the doorway, at the little girl’s tug that has the older one bending down to hear her better.

Fenris feels a frown pulling at his already lowered lips. He doesn’t recall any mention of children. Recalling his knowledge of Tevinter in the past, children were only there as child slaves or, undecidedly fortunate or not, children of older ones. Even then, most didn’t stay in the hold older than 2 years old. Much less 8. Magisters’ usual tendencies involved the selling of such age groups for either extra coin, felt they were a waste of space, or had other Magisters offering to buy them for ‘reasonable’ prices for whatever reason they sought for. The youngest slave you’d see actually working when they were at the age of cognitive mindsets. 12 and up.

Any younger age was deemed too hard to deal with as they would have to ‘raise them’.

But…albeit this Magister Pavus doesn’t own slaves, at least- he was known to have freed all the ones he could in his family’s name, giving them the opportunity to still work but be treated as hired workers, or shown availability to leave and find work outside.

Then why is the little-

Fenris stares at the scene. The girl’s long, brown curls bob lightly. Her giggles faint to his ears as she points up at a picture, her mouth moving in a possible question perhaps.

The older woman flickers her eyes up, taking a good look, before turning back and answering whatever it was with a gentle smile.

They almost seem like mother and daughter.

Satisfied it seems, the two go forward, continuing their walk without a care.

Fenris remains ever curious.

Until now, he’s been in control of himself. Even his mouth.

Until now, “ Do your servants own any children?”

Hawke and Pavus pause in their search, both gravitating their heads swiftly in his direction.

A part of him winces. The other part doesn’t care.

“I’m sorry, what?” Dorian asks, a trimmed brow higher than default. Hawke blinks. Near crystal blue eyes danced between the two men.

“A child. I saw her walk past just now.”

Dorian stays confused, thinking for a good moment. Then starts laughing. It’s not loud, but it continues to startle Fenris, putting his nerves more… nerve-wracked.

“Oh! Oh, no. None of the Servants have any children. A rare moment in time it seems, usually-”

Fenris stopped listening. He stands straighter as his mind slips to the first thing.

Child labor.

Possibly not the worse thing to actual slaves, but-

The girl is barely 8. If she has no parents, then is he just keeping her for some sake? Perhaps easy persuasion for a servant. She is no human, the pricks of her ear were clear through the curls.

His teeth tense.

Varania was basically raised similarly, raised under a magister’s rule into learning the harsh ways to get around. And to be raised in this place, other than give the child somewhere that will give her a better upbringing-

Before he even realizes it, Fenris made it across half the ground between them. Dorian’s feet hasten him back, arms tensing, “Now- Ser Fenris-”

“Then are you keeping her here for some ulterior motive or do you not have a thought process at all?! Huh!?”

The mage flips to flabbergasted, a twitch agitated at the accusation. “Excuse me?! Brivia-”

“That’s her name? Such a little girl has no need to be in a place-”

“Fenris!” Hawke keeps to her spot mostly; her side bracing a bit in front of the Magister.

He’s not looking at her; seething straight ahead at the pompous wearing ‘ruler’ of this household. He knew it! Even some of the ‘nicest’ ones have something under their tainted sleeves.

His arm flies in a motion that has Pavus flinching and Hawke staring, hard. “You know what happened to Varania, Hawke! How are we so sure he isn’t putting that little one in a similar circumstance!” He spits out. Burning morphs under his skin, the familiar urge of his markings spark to life. Glittering the ground and the closest objects near him in a striking blue tone.

Hawke dips her gaze for a second, catching something behind him. It never clicks in his mind until a presence is closer. The tile a sheer couple of feet from him shifts. His marks crackle at something nearby.

Around he spins, a gauntlet flying to his sword’s hold where it rests in its sleeve.

The girl!

She’s…glaring- no seethes..up at him?

Her ears are pinned to her head as much as possible, full turquoise color glints in her pinched eyes, and her fists are at her sides. On rather an instinct, he recognizes the frost around it.

He follows the trail like a line; leading right down to his booted feet. It’s then he sees the ice threatening to touch. It gets worse as spikes slowly lift from the ground, pointing at his shins.

Fenris’s once furious demeanor flips like a switch. It turns blank, honest to Andraste herself- he barely mumbles, “..Huh?”

Brivia’s lips lift into a snarl. It could almost look..oddly cute. If his legs weren’t being threatened by impalement. God, Hawke’s rubbed off on him too much.

“Don’t. Touch. Papa.”

His green eyes blink. “...Uh…”

In a snap, it disappears, spikes lose their hold from her and start melting, and she skirts past him and up to the Magister.

Dorian has no hesitation in scooping her up, safe and cooing at her softly. Trying to calm her down all while she tightens herself around him as much as she physically can. He runs a hand down her back, soothing circles in repeat,

“I’m not ‘keeping’ her here. I’m raising her here.” He states, a quiet moment before his eyes turn from down at Brivia and then up towards Fenris. He looks like he’s short from glaring at him.

Fenris steps back, “ Wha..”

The probably not too much older man pitches his brow, the other arm holding a tittering Brivia, “I’m her father. I adopted her under a decision between my husband and I.”

“How?” Hawke can’t keep her gaze from the little girl, “I thought-” Her jaw is low.

“There were some laws that people tried to throw at me, if that’s what you’re thinking. But I had my own protection to throw back at them, so- rather unfortunate for them- they had no choice but to let me sign at the end.” His eyes swipe back to Fenris, “I have the papers if need proof.”

“..No-” His eyes are stuck on Brivia’s back. She’s trembling only barely; the strong persona she put up for so long before she cracked in her father’s arms.

Her father’s..arms.

Her father.

“......” Fenris doesn’t have a clue as to what to respond with.

“..I’ve heard bits and pieces of your past, Ser Fenris.” His eyes flick up, meeting the Magister’s.

Dorian’s eyes are full of as much understanding as he can. As much as he can in grand spite of their differences. Not a lick of pity.

Fenris can’t even steel his face. It’s wide-eyed

, likely a little furrow in them, mouth in a thin line. He swallows but keeps quiet.

Dorian leans his lower back into the desk, adjusting his arms. Brivia is breathing calmer now, just hiding in the crook of his neck, pushing down the short, fanned-out collar around the top of Dorian’s outfit. Still, his hand never lets off her back.

“My husband found Brivia during a job and brought her home to us. Not even 2 months later, and I was already getting the papers ready…” His mouth quirks, tilting down, “Isn’t that right, darling? “

A glimpse of her face and she’s pressing down a small smile.

Out of the corner of his eye, Fenris catches Hawke’s short fidgeting. Her gingerly tapping of fingers, eyes wide but in curiosity at the girl.

Brivia shifts, noticing it.

When he thought she would shy away from it, surely startled by them- she doesn’t. She moves slowly, yes, but eventually lifts her head high enough to see Hawke clearer. Her face was uncertain but just as curious.

A soft, gentle smile spreads on Hawke, “Hello~!” Dorian chuckles in the background as Brivia lifts a little wave. “Hi..” She whispers.

“That was a neat spell you just did!” Hawke can’t help but comment. Fenris’s head twirls, What-

Like- Did you not just see it pointing at my legs earlier?

“The scary elf startled you, huh?”

Hawke, I swear to the maker-

Brivia looks hesitant, a quick eye shift to Fenris then back at her. He holds any face change when she nods.

Hawke coos, lifting an inviting hand. Brivia takes less time now, giving in and grabbing her hand with a significantly smaller, freckled hand. Rubbing her thumb along the back and knuckles, Hawke’s smile remains ever soft. “I’m sorry about that, little one. I promise he didn’t mean to! Believe me or not, but he’s rather nice.”

“A little prickly-”

“But very nice!” Hawke swats Dorian’s arm.

The little girl, if she wasn’t as hesitant as before, she definitely was now. Her gaze turned to him but flickered down, then back up. She can’t seem to stay looking at him long.

Fenris steps only slightly forward. Brivia pauses, but, at Dorian’s help in adjusting, she shuffles in his arms until she’s facing Fenris more. The girl only continues to surprise him concludingly; her chin lifts, bridging high as if she’s suddenly unafraid now. Her eyes switch focus and her lips twirl into a soft pout.

Judging by side perspectives, Hawke catches her hand from flying to her mouth, swallowing her obvious giggle. Dorian’s smile keeps calm but proud, watching for Brivia’s reactions.

“..Hello..” As much as a small part of his attempts for the same voice Hawke used, his voice is soft, but preferably in volume.

“...Hi.” Brivia mumbles through her pout.

“I..” He can feel it, his cheeks heating up under Dorian and Hawke’s gazes. But he keeps his head up, determined to fix his mistake. “I apologize for my actions.”

He ignores the snort from Hawke, “I believed something that wasn’t true….I hope…you can forgive..me?” It’s odd, he’s heard children apologize after running into his legs in the rowdy streets of Kirkwall, never expected to be on the other side of it, minus the running into the legs of the obviously shorter girl.

Not that it’s a pride thing, he can apologize just as well as anyone with a brain. His mind just had never come up with this type of scenario.

Brivia once again pauses, a thoughtful girl at that, then her eyes dart a few centimeters from his face. Before he can glance behind him, more eyes on them perhaps? She lifts a hand, affably trailing it along her ear. “..Your ears look like mine.”

“Yes.” Fenris agrees. Not sure where this is heading.

Her hand breaks from her ear to hover in the air, slightly towards him. Both Hawke and Fenris see what she’s asking without a word.

“Darling,” Hawke says, knowing Fenris’s ideals on touching, “I’m sorry but I don’t think-”

Fenris one-ups her and leans forward, right enough so she can reach. It takes her a second, probably listening to Hawke, but soon he feels small, shy fingers tap on the edge of his ear. They thumb at the curve, where the pointy part resides. Noticing her increased wonder, he manages to give a soft flick. Her hand moves away, but a giggle escapes.

“How did you do that?” Her question tumbles out in the midst of her giggles. As Fenris resumes position, he can’t help the smirk on his face. It’s softer at the edges however, “You’ll learn in time, you won’t even know you’re doing it until someone points it out.”

Eyes that held uncertainty, a spark of fear overpowered by as much anger as a child can have when protective, now blooms in wonderment and surprise, a great lick of joy too. She spins as best she can to her father, patting his shoulder, “ Papa! Papa! Could I move my ears too?”

“Hm…” He playfully scrutinizes her ears, before tsking, “Might be a while, my dear. They are quite short compared to Ser Fenris here.”

Her lower lip puckers out a bit, a low pout as she plays with his collar, “Aww..”

Hawke’s giggle has Brivia look up again, “Buut…” Her fingers nip lightly at her ears, pulling ticklish giggles out again, “They are just as adorable.”

Fenris can’t help but smile, watching the sweet scene.

A Magister who bought and lost a slave.

A Magister who found and kept a daughter.

Two from the same world, both ending in happiness despite their difference.

“Agreed.” He says simply.

#dragon age #dragon age fenris #Brivia Pavus #dorian pavus #female hawke #Dragon age fanfic #Post tresspasser #Oc insert #Dorian is a dad #Magister Dorian

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meowsgirldrawing · 5 months

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Dorian and his elven daughter

Word Count- 2,706

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Masterlist- Link

“Oh, fuck that.”

Dorian laughs, gripping the amulet in his hand tightly. His laugh echoes against the interior of his office, which is big enough to be considered a master bedroom honestly. He hears Bellatrix’s giggles emit from the crystal as his calms.

“I mean, the guy acts like an indecent asshole-”

“Are there any decent ones?”

“ You would know. ANYWAY-,”

Dorian bursts into more laughter.

“then turns around, acting shocked when you give it back to him- mind you, in a civilized manner. Jeez. Tevinter sounds great. ” She retorts, causing him seconds from wheezing in his chair.

After a moment, he breaths. He leans back in his chair and chuckles finally evening out. His hand holds against his chin, smiling wryly, “Maybe you can come to the next Imperial sphere, it’ll be grand! We can comment on the man’s attire- scare him into thinking the worst.”

“ Oh dear! I saw the Inquisitor and Magister Pavus speaking ill, I hope my luscious seat still shines afterward! ” Her voice deepens, the scornful attempt at a Tevinter accent could make his grandparents and father turn in their graves.

“I thought you didn’t like your former title though? A change of heart maybe?” He teases.

“Dor Dor, I’ve had to accept by now that it will follow me to my grave and even afterwards, whether I want it to or not. Might as well get some use of it.” She shrugs in spite of the fact he can’t see it, “Especially against some entitled, fucking wise-ass who tries to insult one of my favorite nieces.”

“Yes well, you’ll be glad to know that he not only looked like the most miserable, silliest person there, but I saw him practically run out with his tail between his legs soon after.

She snickers, “Good.”

“Thankfully, there was no falter in the new arrangements so everyone matter-of-factly expected Briva and I at the next gathering without trouble.”

A low whistle, “Damn, Dor, look at youuuu! Already some change in the social rank. Metaphorically, of course.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Tis similar, still have much more work that will last well over a lifetime or two.”

“Yeah, well- good thing you- wait… FUCK! TURNIP, NO!-” A thud, Bellatrix coughs, and some shuffling. Dorian pauses, looking down at the crystal in his palm. It flicks from light to off, indicating more to the commotion. He hesitates, “Bella?” He taps it, all the same of knowing it’s alright- just something to check, “Bellatrix? Is everything alright?”

Soon, the crystal shines bright again with the elf’s voice coming through, albeit, breathless.

“The dog…jumped..on me.” More shuffling, “I think he heard my.. grt- whistling. …This is why I’m a cat person.”

He breaks into laughter as she huffs, “Are you alright?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, fucker.” She growls, her tone still light.

“Ass.”

“Shit-talker.”

He goes to continue their game when he notices Gilmi, one of the head servants of his household, standing nervously by the door, waiting patiently.

“Bella?”

“Yeah? Is everything alright?” She clearly picked up his change of tone.

“Not sure. I’ll send back for you once I’m done.”

“Got it, Dor Dor. Tell Briva her favorite Aunt said hi.”

He motions for the servant to come in, snickering, “You know she has close to 6 other Aunts, yes?”

“Un-noted. Take care.”

“You do the same.” The connection cuts and he stashes the amulet carefully back into his desk, giving the servant his full attention.

“Is something the matter, dear?”

“Not…exactly sir, Miss Briva is the library. Uhm, something occurred and now she’s scared. Mister Jervah told me to just come get you.”

The moment Dorian heard the second line, he jerked from his chair, his gut clenched. He doesn’t waste time, quickly thanking the elf before making his way down to the library. The clicking of boots doesn’t help his nerves. They only add to the ever-growing fear, his hands tight, and mind racing at any horror his daughter was frightened of.

Possibilities flood though. An assassin paid to kidnap or hurt her- Well, he knows the guards would have stopped and alerted him immediately, but still…. An animal at the window?- Briva absolutely adores them, she would have been running in, wanting to show him honestly. A book she shouldn’t have read, Then again, he holds all of the spell tomes or spell-based ones on a high shelf or locked in his office, safe……STILL-

Arriving at the doors, he makes haste in opening and coming through.

All right, time to throw all the previous worries out the window, along with his sanity- specifically the barely hanging nail one from across the room, shattered glass scattered around on on top of the window seal. One that completes the look of a tornado, fire, and ice-mixed wonderland.

Books are thrown off shelves, some burned with others frozen in crystal cold. The curtains scorched from the bottom up, continuous crackles hitting his ears. The floor has puddles of water, as well as short layers of ice in some spots- his foot almost slips but he steadies himself on a half-burned desk near the door.

He trudged slowly around the room, tensely looking everywhere with wide, fearful eyes, also casting out swift but small spells to counter the others. All the while, calling out for his little girl. Fear has him caged at this point; with all this mass of destruction, no wonder his little one was terrified.

“Briva, darling. Papa’s here, I-”

“Ser Pavus,”

He turns, presently holding a piece of paper, one that Briva had obviously been working on beforehand. The ink was fresh and oily.

“Jervah, where’s my daughter?” Maintaining his calm and ever-resounding nature in his voice. In spite of this, the older elf looks upon him with understanding. He motions towards the door across the library. It’s an extra room, made specifically for when he and Briva are focusing on her studies.

As Dorian crosses the foothold, Jervah speaks up assuringly, “I let the others know to leave you two be. You will need it.” Not understanding this but knowing he will soon, the Magister nods, before returning to his most important.

He casts a minor spell, a light orb that lights up the room. “Briva?...Briva, honey.” His voice is tight, trying his damndest to sound heartening- despite his own heart currently moving-

He stops at the shuffling. Moving the orb closer in its direction, he sees a small figure under the middle table- scooting further under it as if to hide from the light. He sighs, relief flooding over him when realization hits.

Dorian takes his time, hands behind his back as he sends multiple orbs around corners of the room, lighting it up more until it turns into a soft, light blue hue. Her favorite color.

“...Briva? Is everything alright, my dearest?”

She doesn’t respond, concealing her face in her knees, arms wrapped around her tightly. With a kneel, he takes notice of the ice around her fingertips.

Oh..

He blinks.

So that’s what happened….Another wave of relief, Her powers just manifested. That’s all..

Now, he speaks up, “Briva, dear, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

She takes a moment before shaking her head, just barely. “Do you want to come out?”

Another shake of the head.

“Alright,” He sits down and tucks his legs under him. His robes fell around him, touching the ice residue and crowding around the two of them. She moves her head up quickly.

“No!”

He stops, looking at her.

She gnaws on her lip. Her eyes were blotchy and red, with tears streaming down her bubbly cheeks as her pointed ears droop slightly.

“Y-you’re gonna mess up y-your outfit.”

Dorian can’t help himself- a short laugh escapes from him. Mae, the loving sport, was always saying how Briva could be his blood by how she acted at times; it’s clear as ever even now. Still chuckling at her confused and worried look, he gently coaxes her out from the table.

“Please, it’ll soon be water. It’s fine, I promise.”

She’s hesitant, bunching her light florid, green dress in her tiny hands. Reluctantly she moves and settles into his lap. Now sensing she wasn’t in trouble, she buried her face into his chest. Unfortunately, she starts tearing up again when his arms wrap around her in a tight, but soft cradle.

The patient quietness gets mellowed out as Dorian runs a soothing hand through her curly hair, “Are you alright, my dear?”

She doesn’t speak but nods. “What about your hands? Are they cold?”

A pause before another small nod.

“Here.” With an easy hand, he warms it just enough yet pauses when she flinches. He frowns, concerned. Briva has never been afraid of his magic. Nor Mae’s, Estel’s, or any other of her mage Aunts and Uncles. Curious yes, but never frightened. Only when she sees it in public or from other Magisters in general is when she gets somewhat nervous- that’s when he pulls her closer as to soothe her thoughts.

Kaffas- she just discovered herself that she has mage blood and after experiencing something such that is emotionally reeling to most young ones- especially at her age! Dorian curses inwardly at himself. The first thing I go and do is use one of the main elements.

Dorian moves his hand away an inch, “Is this alright, dear?”

She looks up before glancing down at his hand. She gives a small nod and lends her hand back.

As the frost disappears from her fingers, Dorian leans his back on the table side. It digs into his upper back, but he pays it no mind. He could care less when his daughter is his main concern at the moment.

“What happened?” Her body stills at the question.

“Briva?”

“... I-im sorry.. ” Dorian tilts his head, “Whatever for, my dearest?”

Her hands wipe her eyes, sniffling and whimpering. “I ruined the Library. The b-books are ruined! I-i didn't mean to- I was only reading what Mister Jervah gave me and then-,” A small sob escapes her, tearing at his heart. Every urge in his body fights against the instinct to hug her tightly to him, to hide her away from it; as much as he wants to, she needs some room to speak.

“A-and then! -Ice and fire came… I think I h-hurt Mr.Jervah!” Briva cries.

“Mr.Jervah said he was alright, dear. No need to worry.” He assures, brushing the curly hair from her face.

“B–b-but, in the Library! I-”

“The books, curtains, and any other affected object there can be replaced. You cannot, however.”

Briva looks down as her hands fumble in her lap. “..I’m sorry, papa..”

Dorian smiles, pulling her closer, “Briva, darling.”

She glances back up. The tears get gently wiped away by him, swiftly pulling down his long sleeve to dry her cheeks. As he does this, he continues, “Dear, you know what happened exactly, yes?”

She pauses. “I’m like Papa?”

He chuckles, nodding along, “Yes, you have what many consider, mage blood. You will learn more as you grow, but, “ He adjusts himself, still holding Briva in his lap, “You understand what that means, correct.” He checks.

“Yes, But,” She bites her cheek, “Isn’t it…dangerous? Aunt Mae said some people think mages are scary.”

He sighs, “Unfortunately people believe that, of course. It’s just like how many believe your other father is a scary beast all because of his appearance.”

“But father is nice! He’s not a beast.”

“I know that. But it’s an undeserving fact, sadly.”

She goes quiet again. A less tight grip on her dress, the same one that bundles around her, barely touching the ground underneath her father’s lap. She studies the way to fabric lay, thinking through her next words. Dorian is patient, only humming and brushing through her hair contently.

She’s hesitant, “ Can I…can I use my magic like yours?” She looks up, “Like how you used it to help Aunt Bellatrix and Estel?”

He smiles as she continues, “You said you only use it when the aid for people is needed, you helped people…I wanna do that.”

“With time and careful studies, indeed. It can be done, my dearest.”

It’s almost like she was never crying, never scared- her bright smile grew on her face before she erupted in giggles and hugged him. Like every time, he never hesitates to reciprocate, holding her close as chuckles leave him.

After leading her out of the study, Dorian and Briva find Jervah standing near the entrance of the Library. His grin matches Dorian's, as he greets Briva, who runs up to him with a worry in her brow. “Mister Jervah! Are you alright?”

The older man chuckles, kneeling down, “I am alright, madam. No need to worry.” She gives a shy smile and hugs him.

As Briva talks with Jervah, Dorian’s happiness starts to dwindle. Slowly and awfully as new anxiety kicks in. She’s a mage. His hidden gaze ponders over his daughter, who’s giggling as Jervah holds her up.

An elven mage….In Tevinter .

She’s going to have many troubles try and run through her. People are going to look upon her as nothing other than a unique piece for a stealer’s collection, or an unwanted soon enemy. People will want to hurt her.. His darling little girl. The dear one that his husband, Fuliz, saved close to 6 years ago.

Well….He perks up, “Briva?”

She looks over, smiling, “Yes, Papa?”

“Would you like to go with Miss Gilmi and get cleaned up? Papa and Jervah will take care of things here.”

She tilts her head, “Surely I can at least gather the saved books?”

Oh bless her , he instead shakes his head but keeps his smile plastered, “I’m quite sure, my dearest.” Leaning down, he welcomes her quick hug, placing a kiss on her head, “Run along now, we’ll be fine.”

With a nod and a small grin, she does so. Grabbing onto Gilmi’s outreached hand, she waves as the two leave.

He waves back, waiting for them to be completely out of view before he speaks in a quiet but firm tone, “Jervah, for now on: please notify the guards and staff to keep an extra eye on all entrances, no matter the circumstances. And if anything happens that concerns Briva or strange behavior from staff, tell me immediately.”

“Of course, sir.” Jervah bows, and makes his way out. Dorian turns, hands behind his back as he casts out spells. As chairs and tables float back to positions, the curtains being pulled down for replacement, and frost being melted and dried away, he stands near the window. His eyes ogle at the gate that guards his home.

He once felt shame and dishonor for who he was, for where he was from, for his decisions on who to love and be around. He feels his jaw clench, no matter what, he will make absolutely sure Briva will not ever feel the same still lingering feeling he feels now.

While his fears from before have just become stilling nightmares and comments he can now brush off without a blink,

While he now has a wonderful and sweet husband waiting to come visit him and their girl in between mercenary missions,

While he has multiple friends all over Thedas that wouldn’t think twice to help him when heeded-

The judgment and disdain from his peers continue like an endorsed flame. People look upon him and send assassins of words or people in their wake, in their distaste. People fight to stop his coming dent in their country, and all would turn towards his little girl when she joins his side. All for her pointed ears and now magic.

Well…he smirks lightly, spinning back to the room and out the door.

They best send their biggest armies at him and his own growing power, cause the Fade will have to destroy itself before he allows any of them to even step a foot near her.

She is his daughter, no matter the blood. As long as he lives and breathes, she doesn’t have to be afraid. Never like he once was.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #Dorian pavus #Brivia Pavus #Dorian is a dad #papa dorian pavus #oc insert #Dragon age fanfic #Post Tresspasser #male adaar #Fuliz Adaar #dorian x inquisitor #Dorian x male adaar

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