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Entry tags:
DAI Fic: Heroes
Title: Heroes
Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Rating: All ages
Wordcount: 955
Characters: Dorian/m!Lavellan
Spoilers: Through the Arbor Wilds
Notes: Well, here we go. Turns out I'm pretty invested in this relationship -- who knew? Well, mostly I'm invested in Mahanon Lavellan, who is rapidly becoming one of my best beloved OCs. Anyway, this scene, following up on the events at the Temple of Mythal, hit me very hard as I was wrapping up yesterday's game, and I knew it wasn't going to get out of my head until I wrote it down.
Meanwhile, it's become increasingly obvious that I need some more DA:I icons. I don't even know where to find icons any more; suggestions?
Also on AO3
The party who had ventured into the Temple of Mythal popped out of the eluvian one by one: first Morrigan, then Dorian, followed by Solas and Cassandra and -- after a wait that was most likely only a second or two but to Dorian felt like years -- the Inquisitor, Mahanon Lavellan. The blue glow that had wreathed him since activating the eluvian was fading, but his eyes still glinted with magic, and he stepped aside to catch his breath.
Morrigan touched the eluvian, and it, too faded until it was just an ordinary mirror. "It is done," she said, and she turned away, stalking out of the room. The others made to follow, but Mahanon stopped Dorian with a light hand to his shoulder.
"Wait," he murmured, and Dorian responded with a small nod. As soon as they were alone, Mahanon closed the door and turned to face Dorian. Already he looked better, standing straight, breathing easier, and Dorian allowed himself to relax a little. The room was small, a storeroom off the gardens that Dorian had never seen before, littered with crates and chests of all sizes. He wondered if the eluvian had always been here, or if Morrigan had brought it. Mahanon sat down atop an overturned crate, and Dorian found another nearby. Once settled, Mahanon took Dorian's hands. "I'm sorry, ma vhenen," he said. "I didn't mean to frighten you."
"Well, you did," Dorian snapped, a bit more peevishly than he'd intended. "Do you know what happened after you walked into that pool?" Mahanon shook his head. "It exploded, that's what. All the water burst into the air and splashed out and over us, leaving you unconscious on the tile floor. When I saw you lying there..." He shook his head. "I have worried about your safety before, from time to time, but never like that. Never did I feel so powerless to fight any foe than whatever forces were at work in that temple."
Mahanon leaned in a bit closer, tightening his fingers around Dorian's. "I am sorry. It was not an easy decision, but I had no choice in the end. To cede that power to either Corypheus or Morrigan was unthinkable. Morrigan may be our ally today, but who knows about tomorrow?" He glanced away. "Besides, that power was not for human hands to hold. If Solas had been willing, I would have gladly stepped aside, but barring that..."
Dorian sighed. "I understand. But Maker, you make things difficult. Do you know troublesome it is to love a hero?"
Mahanon caught his eyes, then lifted Dorian's hands to his lips for a swift kiss. "I have some idea, yes." Dorian barked out a laugh of surprise, and Mahanon smiled back. "I won't claim that I wasn't concerned about drinking from the Well. But-- tell me, lethallen. What do you know of vallaslin?"
"Your facial tattoos?" Mahanon nodded, and Dorian continued. "Not much. Only that most Dalish wear them, and that they mark a rite of passage into adulthood. Are they ancient tradition?"
"Like many other aspects of our culture, no one knows," Mahanon replied. "All of that is correct, but you might not know that each design is sacred to a different god. We choose our path, our patron, and that choice is etched onto our faces for life. It is not a decision lightly made. And this" -- he let go of Dorian's hands to point at the delicate lines etched on his cheeks -- "is the emblem of Mythal."
Dorian leaned in a closer look, and his eyes widened in recognition. "Abelas. The guardian in the temple. His vallaslin extended onto his forehead, but it has the same underlying pattern as yours."
"Yes," Mahanon said. "He serves Mythal, and so do I. She is the goddess of justice, of balance, of righting wrongs."
"Is that so?" Dorian tipped his head to the side, considering Mahanon and his heart, his choices, the core of his very being. "Then you could hardly have chosen a more suitable patron."
Mahanon blushed and looked away. "I try to live up to her example in all things. Especially in my role as Inquisitor." He fell silent for a moment, then met Dorian's eyes again. "So you see, I couldn't be too afraid. Not truly. Whatever Mythal's will is, I am happy to follow it, to accept it. It was no less than I would do otherwise."
Dorian sighed. "I hope you're right, amatus, and that you pay no steeper price."
Mahanon lowered his eyes. "Tell me if I'm wrong. If it ever seems like I'm taking the wrong path, or behaving out of character, I trust you to be honest with me, and to stop me if you must."
"I-- yes." Dorian saw the determination in Mahanon's eyes, the hope, the surety, and sighed. "All right. I will. If I must."
"Thank you." Mahanon leaned in, closing the gap between them for a kiss, and Dorian kissed him in return, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, letting all the worry and fear of the last few moments melt away in the warmth of his lover's arms. When Mahanon finally pulled away, he ran the backs of his fingers over Dorian's cheek. "I must speak with my advisors, let them know what has happened. But when that's done, will you meet me in my chambers? In an hour, perhaps?"
Dorian caught Mahanon's hand with his own, then lightly kissed his fingertips. "Now there is a charge I will gladly accept."
"Good." Mahanon kissed Dorian again and then left. Dorian watched him go, then settled back onto the crate. Yes, this business of loving a hero was giving him a lot to think about.
Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Rating: All ages
Wordcount: 955
Characters: Dorian/m!Lavellan
Spoilers: Through the Arbor Wilds
Notes: Well, here we go. Turns out I'm pretty invested in this relationship -- who knew? Well, mostly I'm invested in Mahanon Lavellan, who is rapidly becoming one of my best beloved OCs. Anyway, this scene, following up on the events at the Temple of Mythal, hit me very hard as I was wrapping up yesterday's game, and I knew it wasn't going to get out of my head until I wrote it down.
Meanwhile, it's become increasingly obvious that I need some more DA:I icons. I don't even know where to find icons any more; suggestions?
Also on AO3
The party who had ventured into the Temple of Mythal popped out of the eluvian one by one: first Morrigan, then Dorian, followed by Solas and Cassandra and -- after a wait that was most likely only a second or two but to Dorian felt like years -- the Inquisitor, Mahanon Lavellan. The blue glow that had wreathed him since activating the eluvian was fading, but his eyes still glinted with magic, and he stepped aside to catch his breath.
Morrigan touched the eluvian, and it, too faded until it was just an ordinary mirror. "It is done," she said, and she turned away, stalking out of the room. The others made to follow, but Mahanon stopped Dorian with a light hand to his shoulder.
"Wait," he murmured, and Dorian responded with a small nod. As soon as they were alone, Mahanon closed the door and turned to face Dorian. Already he looked better, standing straight, breathing easier, and Dorian allowed himself to relax a little. The room was small, a storeroom off the gardens that Dorian had never seen before, littered with crates and chests of all sizes. He wondered if the eluvian had always been here, or if Morrigan had brought it. Mahanon sat down atop an overturned crate, and Dorian found another nearby. Once settled, Mahanon took Dorian's hands. "I'm sorry, ma vhenen," he said. "I didn't mean to frighten you."
"Well, you did," Dorian snapped, a bit more peevishly than he'd intended. "Do you know what happened after you walked into that pool?" Mahanon shook his head. "It exploded, that's what. All the water burst into the air and splashed out and over us, leaving you unconscious on the tile floor. When I saw you lying there..." He shook his head. "I have worried about your safety before, from time to time, but never like that. Never did I feel so powerless to fight any foe than whatever forces were at work in that temple."
Mahanon leaned in a bit closer, tightening his fingers around Dorian's. "I am sorry. It was not an easy decision, but I had no choice in the end. To cede that power to either Corypheus or Morrigan was unthinkable. Morrigan may be our ally today, but who knows about tomorrow?" He glanced away. "Besides, that power was not for human hands to hold. If Solas had been willing, I would have gladly stepped aside, but barring that..."
Dorian sighed. "I understand. But Maker, you make things difficult. Do you know troublesome it is to love a hero?"
Mahanon caught his eyes, then lifted Dorian's hands to his lips for a swift kiss. "I have some idea, yes." Dorian barked out a laugh of surprise, and Mahanon smiled back. "I won't claim that I wasn't concerned about drinking from the Well. But-- tell me, lethallen. What do you know of vallaslin?"
"Your facial tattoos?" Mahanon nodded, and Dorian continued. "Not much. Only that most Dalish wear them, and that they mark a rite of passage into adulthood. Are they ancient tradition?"
"Like many other aspects of our culture, no one knows," Mahanon replied. "All of that is correct, but you might not know that each design is sacred to a different god. We choose our path, our patron, and that choice is etched onto our faces for life. It is not a decision lightly made. And this" -- he let go of Dorian's hands to point at the delicate lines etched on his cheeks -- "is the emblem of Mythal."
Dorian leaned in a closer look, and his eyes widened in recognition. "Abelas. The guardian in the temple. His vallaslin extended onto his forehead, but it has the same underlying pattern as yours."
"Yes," Mahanon said. "He serves Mythal, and so do I. She is the goddess of justice, of balance, of righting wrongs."
"Is that so?" Dorian tipped his head to the side, considering Mahanon and his heart, his choices, the core of his very being. "Then you could hardly have chosen a more suitable patron."
Mahanon blushed and looked away. "I try to live up to her example in all things. Especially in my role as Inquisitor." He fell silent for a moment, then met Dorian's eyes again. "So you see, I couldn't be too afraid. Not truly. Whatever Mythal's will is, I am happy to follow it, to accept it. It was no less than I would do otherwise."
Dorian sighed. "I hope you're right, amatus, and that you pay no steeper price."
Mahanon lowered his eyes. "Tell me if I'm wrong. If it ever seems like I'm taking the wrong path, or behaving out of character, I trust you to be honest with me, and to stop me if you must."
"I-- yes." Dorian saw the determination in Mahanon's eyes, the hope, the surety, and sighed. "All right. I will. If I must."
"Thank you." Mahanon leaned in, closing the gap between them for a kiss, and Dorian kissed him in return, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, letting all the worry and fear of the last few moments melt away in the warmth of his lover's arms. When Mahanon finally pulled away, he ran the backs of his fingers over Dorian's cheek. "I must speak with my advisors, let them know what has happened. But when that's done, will you meet me in my chambers? In an hour, perhaps?"
Dorian caught Mahanon's hand with his own, then lightly kissed his fingertips. "Now there is a charge I will gladly accept."
"Good." Mahanon kissed Dorian again and then left. Dorian watched him go, then settled back onto the crate. Yes, this business of loving a hero was giving him a lot to think about.