#at least dorians back
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 4,761
Warning: NSFW, suicidal attempt
Weekly updates going forward until the story is finished. Find this fic in its entirety on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423880/chapters/52082938
Despite the blindfold, Kestrel knew when he was back in Tevinter. The heat rushed him in one aggressive burst of air, tosling his hair and distracting him enough to stumble over a stone. His guide took his arm and continued to lead him through the darkness.Branches and leaves caressed his face and body, forced apart by their path. As they continued walking, the din of crickets rose from a soft chirp in the distance to a crescendoing welcome. His guide finally paused and removed his blindfold, gesturing forward into a field of waist-high grass, yellowing with the strain of a hot spring.
Still, Kestrel couldn’t help but glance at the young forest behind them. An eluvian would be a useful tool for the Inquisition remnants, but chances were slim he’d find it. Solas made sure of that. Besides, his path was forward, towards Dorian.
A loud snort drew his attention to a pale mare chomping on the grass, rein lashed to a low branch on the outskirts. When he looked to his guide for permission to use the horse, she’d disappeared without a sound.
****
Rating: Explicit
Warning: NSFW, suicidal attempt
Weekly updates going forward until the story is finished. Find this fic in its entirety on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423880/chapters/52082938
Despite the blindfold, Kestrel knew when he was back in Tevinter. The heat rushed him in one aggressive burst of air, tosling his hair and distracting him enough to stumble over a stone. His guide took his arm and continued to lead him through the darkness.
Branches and leaves caressed his face and body, forced apart by their path. As they continued walking, the din of crickets rose from a soft chirp in the distance to a crescendoing welcome. His guide finally paused and removed his blindfold, gesturing forward into a field of waist-high grass, yellowing with the strain of a hot spring.
Still, Kestrel couldn’t help but glance at the young forest behind them. An eluvian would be a useful tool for the Inquisition remnants, but chances were slim he’d find it. Solas made sure of that. Besides, his path was forward, towards Dorian.
A loud snort drew his attention to a pale mare chomping on the grass, rein lashed to a low branch on the outskirts. When he looked to his guide for permission to use the horse, she’d disappeared without a sound.
****
It took a day of careful travel, dipping off the main road when the occasional traveler neared, hiding under his hood despite the late spring warmth, to reach the outskirts of the Pavus countryside manor. The flow of people gave away its proximity first. Carriages of finely dressed nobles formed a line down the road, filled in by those of lesser birth on horses with clothing just as rich. Whispers of the Pavus heir finally settling down flitted through the traffic, encouraged by laughter and smiles. It was a joyous occasion for all involved and an excuse for the top tier of Tevinter to gather and celebrate.
Kestrel pushed his horse in and out of the crowd. Fortunately, most seemed too lost in their gossip to notice a plain garbed man on a horse, dismissing him as someone’s errand slave.
Despite being surrounded, Kestrel felt alone. He was the only one here that truly knew Dorian. He was the only one here to see if this was truly what Dorian wanted for himself. At least, he’d made it in time, in time to stop the ceremony is necessary.
Weaving deeper through the crowd, Kestrel feared his noisy heart thudding in his chest would turn heads. The desire to see Dorian again threatened to overwhelm him, to force him to shout from his horseback that this was wrong. He knew in his heart that Dorian was marrying the wrong person. He and Dorian deserved to be together, and now he had another chance – No, that’s not why he was here. Maybe Dorian had already forgotten him. Maybe this marriage was a chance at a normal life for Dorian, one he never thought possible.
That thought summoned tears to Kestrel’s eyes. It would kill him to see Dorian with someone else, but Dorian’s happiness was worth more than his life.
Blinking away the tears, Kestrel pushed his horse out of the line and off the road and urged it into a gallop, not caring what glares or glances it earned him. He overshot the house, running past the backlog of people waiting for entry, and slipped to the woods behind the manor, the same woods he and Dalish had fled through the night of his faked death.
Kestrel slid from the horse’s back, offering her an absentminded pat, before he stealthed. A single-mindedness overtook him, propelling him towards Dorian like a hound on a scent trail. So desperate was he to see Dorian again, he nearly crashed into a guard on the edge of the forest. Fortunately, the man was too busy drinking from a flask to notice the swaying bushes as Kestrel stumbled into the clearing.
In the open field, two large tents were set-up on one side of the field while chairs and an elaborate arbor stood near the pond, on the other side. Guests were being seated or mingling around the raised platform, paying their respects to the proud mother. He watched the people parade around, but didn’t spot the familiar swagger of the man he loved. If Dorian had been with the other people, Kestrel would’ve noticed him. That meant he had to be tucked away in one of the tents. Or in the manor. Hopefully, one of the tents. He never wanted to enter that house of torture ever again.
He hurried over to the far side, praying no one noticed the movement of the grass in his rush. Reaching the closest tent, he circled around, listening for whoever might be inside. A pleased giggle rang through the air, followed by several agreeing laughs, none of which belonged to Dorian. This must be the bride’s tent, the woman that was supposed to take his place beside Dorian. Kestrel knew none of this was her fault, and yet, he couldn’t help the feeling of jealousy that welled up within. Even if Kestrel was able to stop Dorian from going through with the wedding, even if Dorian was stupid enough to accept him back into his life, even if Dorian still wanted to marry him after everything, they would never have it easy. Never as easy as a man marrying a woman.
A bit more subdued by the thought of the odds lining up against him, he headed towards the other tent. Within a few feet of the enclosed canopy, voices forced their way through the heavy fabric walls.
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this, Dorian. He’s gone, there’s no need to continue with this farce of a wedding.”
“You think I’ve forgotten that, Mae? You think I’ve forgotten what it was like to hold his still-warm body in my arms? You think –” Dorian’s voice cracked and Maevaris was quick to soothe him.
“I’m sorry. This just…it doesn’t make sense to me. I think you’re punishing yourself for a problem you could never solve. You won’t be happy married to her.”
“How do you know that? Maybe finally being on my mother’s good side will change things between us. And who knows? Having a child, someone that loves you unconditionally, might make my life worthwhile again. Atria is a lovely woman. She’s intelligent, kind, which mind you, in Tevinter is a rare occurrence, and open-minded. She understands my past and is willing to work through it with me. She also has the added bonus of being approved by my mother, despite being a member of our Lucerni group.”
Dorian actually thought his life might be better with this woman?
“She’s a powerful mage, sure, but she’s not…”
“A man?” Dorian retorted, words bitter.
“The Inquisitor. She’s not Kestrel.”
“He’s dead, Mae! There is no Kes anymore. I’m just so tired of fighting everyone and for what?”
Kestrel could hear the raw agony in his last words, and it drew him closer, pulling him around the corner of the tent. Dorian sounded like he’d given up.
“I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret,” Maevaris finally said, voice soft with understanding.
“It’s too late for that. This is…this is what I want, Mae. It’s a chance at happiness. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to be appropriately sloshed before this affair, and I’m not quite there yet.”
A chance at happiness? Kestrel clutched his chest. He’d forced Dorian here. For all the blame he’d dumped on Atronis, he was the one who’d backed Dorian into this corner. If this was what Dorian wanted, wasn’t it best to let him be? Still, he couldn’t come all this way without catching a glimpse of him. Fighting through his heartbreak, Kestrel crept closer, noticing one side of the enclosed canopy was lifted, allowing air to flow through the space. The tent was too dark to see anything within.
“I’ll love you no matter what, okay?”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
Maevaris exited through the raised side, pausing once to glance back the tent with a pensive frown before making her way to the guests.
“Finally…” muttered Dorian.
Now was his chance. One glimpse of Dorian, and he’d leave him to the life he desired. Like he said, it was a real chance at happiness.
Slipping into the tent was simple, and Dorian was too preoccupied with the drink tray to notice any subtle shifting of the air. A black cloak hid his form, high collar obscuring his face from Kestrel’s current angle. His hair was pulled back into a simple tail, gold sparkling among the free length.
Dorian’s back was to him, hunched over a table with a glass decanter of some dark liquid. Most likely his favored brandy. Except he wasn’t focused on pouring anything, which was odd.
Kestrel snuck around to the side to find out what Dorian was doing. He was momentarily distracted by the bare expanse of skin that greeted his inquisitive gaze. The cloak squared off his shoulders in a hard line, edges meeting right below Dorian’s throat. Underneath, he wore nothing save a pair of loose, black pants held up by a golden scarf. The length of unclothed, muscular skin left Kestrel’s mouth dry and cheeks flushed. So flustered was he, he tripped over his own feet. He stumbled a few steps before catching himself, thankful for the rugs underfoot to muffle what would’ve been a noisy stumble through grass.
Focus, Kestrel told himself. I mean, who goes half-naked to their own wedding? Kestrel’s thoughts strayed, aroused and irritated at Dorian’s blatant exposure.
Unaware of Kestrel’s struggles, Dorian opened a small, wooden box, retrieving a handful of dried mushrooms. Using a knife within reach, he chopped them up into leathery scraps before gathering them anew in cupped hands and dumped them into an open kettle, still steaming. His golden bangles chimed merrily throughout his movements. Dorian placed the lid back on the kettle and settled into a plush reading chair at the table, toying with a tea cup while his tea seeped.
Except no one made tea from mushrooms.
Creeping closer still, Kestrel peered into the unattended box of leftover mushrooms on the table. They were flat-capped and a dull and lifeless gray. Kestrel recognized them as Blightcap mushrooms, extremely toxic if consumed. One of the kids of Clan Lavellan had found some in a nearby cave and thinking them one of the edible deep mushrooms had eaten his fill and died shortly after. What was Dorian doing making a tea of them? It’d kill whoever drank it.
Dorian poured a muddy brown mixture into his cup before holding it between both hands, staring into it as steam clouded his vision.
Kestrel’s stomach twisted in realization. Oh no…he wouldn’t, would he? But he’d said he wanted to try for a chance at happiness! Unless that was a lie to get Maevaris to leave him alone for this very reason.
“I’m sorry I failed you,” Dorian whispered into the cup before bringing it to his lips.
Desperate to stop him, Kestrel leapt over the table, swatting the cup from Dorian’s hands before his momentum landed him on top of Dorian, sending the chair tipping backward and them both tumbling on to the ground. Kestrel continued to roll a few feet out while Dorian still sat in the tipped chair.
“What…? Who?” Dorian sputtered, quickly rising to his feet, hand ablaze with magic.
Kestrel pulled himself onto his hand and knees, rear to Dorian, hood fallen over his head in the tumble.
“State your name or, so help me, I’ll set your ass on fire!”
“What in the Void were you thinking, Dorian?” Kestrel reprimanded. Terribly pissed, he flopped onto the ground, rear first, so he could glare at the dumb man.
“…Kes? No. Impossible. You’re dead.”
Kestrel shook his head, hood knocked back to his shoulders. “I think the bigger issue here is you were trying to kill yourself!”
“Did I succeed…?” Dorian asked, touching his arms and then his face. “Definitely didn’t imagine I’d be getting yelled at by my dead partner first thing after crossing the Veil.”
With an irritated huff, Kestrel said, “You’re not dead, but you would’ve been if I hadn’t knocked that poisonous tea from your hands! Again, what the fuck were you thinking?”
Dorian frowned, muttering, “It was supposed to have a more immediate effect, but the vendor did warn of hallucinations. Oh well, proof it’s only a matter of time, I suppose.” He righted the oversized chair and settled into it. As he leaned his head against the high backing, he said, “I thought it only fair, you know. Why, afterall, I left you back at the Winter Palace. It’s only fair you’d leave me. I don’t blame you for,” he paused, grimacing as he searched for the right word, “leaving the way you did. After all the tortures you were put through.” He shook his head. “Perhaps you thought about following me to Tevinter all those years ago. Know that I’ve thought about following you into death these past few months. They’ve been torture, Kes.” His voice broke and he hid his face behind a hand, yet tears slipped past, making fast trails down his cheeks.
Dorian still thought he was dead, some apparition sent to haunt him or some ill effect of the poison. “But I–”
He continued, despite the flow of tears that persisted. “When I first saw you lying there, I thought surely it was some jest at my expense. A horrible one, mind you, but still, just a prank. As I left, I convinced myself your death wasn’t real. Even after I returned to the city, I waited for you. I waited by the door for days, sure you’d arrive at any moment or send word of your daring escape. But those days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. Eventually, I had to admit defeat, because if you were truly alive, you would’ve let me know you were okay as soon as possible. No, insist all you want, Kes, but I know you’re just some figment of my mind. At least, we’ll be together soon, once this tea take effect.”
“But my death was supposed to free you. You were supposed to drop this marriage plan and move on with your life, Dorian.”
“At first I believed I deserved this life after failing you. But I can’t keep going. I can’t keep fighting for this life. There’s no point in fighting without you, Kes. Don’t you understand?”
Kestrel rose to his feet, upset. “No, I don’t understand! You’ve lived without me before, Dorian. You could do so again.”
“One can only have their heart ripped out so many times before they perish, amatus.”
Had he truly left Dorian in such a state? But why? He was nothing; worth none of this drama. He’d thought he could just fade away with his faked death. Sure, he’d never forget Dorian, but Dorian would eventually move on. He never thought he’d drive Dorian to take his own life. How could he have crushed Dorian so thoroughly?
His heart broke with the sight of Dorian weeping, hiding his emotions poorly behind a bejeweled hand. He needed to stop this. Words weren’t convincing enough. Without another thought, Kestrel approached Dorian in his velvet-lined chair and crawled onto his lap, like those many nights in Skyhold after exhaustive days. He nudged Dorian’s collar out of the way and buried his head against Dorian’s neck. He smeared tears along the way, but those would stop soon enough. He’d see to it. “I’m not dead,” he whispered, like words were needed after pressing himself as close to Dorian as possible.
Dorian remained unreceptive to him for a long moment, rigid and still. Finally, he inhaled and groaned out “Amatus” coming to life and curled his arms around Kestrel. “How could you?” he asked, still holding Kestrel close. “How could you leave me thinking you died? Your death was the end of my life.”
“I’m sorry, ma vhenan. I thought for sure you’d cancel your wedding plans and move on.”
“Why would you ever think that?”
Kestrel groaned before whispering, “I’m nothing.”
“You’re everything to me,” Dorian whispered fervently, tightening his hug. “Don’t you realize how perfect you are?”
Perfect? Hardly. “Oh yeah, a one-armed, powerless, has-been,” Kestrel scoffed.
“You’re a hero. You saved the people of Ferelden and Orlais. Even Tevinter whispers about the deeds the Inquisitor accomplished, omitting the fact that you’re an elf, but that’s something we can work on. And while your arm loss is unfortunate, the people view it as a selfless sacrifice, even still, years later.”
“That’s the Inquisitor, Dorian. He had a whole army and spies and loyal companions to help accomplish everything. That’s not me.”
“No? But you, Kes, not the Inquisitor title is what attracted everyone to your side and kept them there. Me included. Do you know what we see in you?”
Kestrel shook his head against Dorian’s shoulder.
“You’re kind, caring, intelligent. You’re a selfless protector of the small and helpless. And so strong. When backed into a corner, you never back down, you never give up. You inspire others around you to be better, to try harder. And you give everyone hope. When I lost you, that’s what I missed the most, the hope that everything will get better, that everything will be okay. You radiate it.”
Kestrel realized his own tears dampened Dorian’s neck.
Dorian snuggled closer to whisper, “Not to mention, you make a wonderful companion in bed.”
Kestrel snorted, unable to hold back a smile against Dorian’s skin.
Dorian released a soggy chuckle. “We’re a fine pair, don’t you think? We’re so wonderful at this relationship thing that we’ve left each other hopeless and alone.”
“Better together,” Kestrel repeated their motto, mumbling into Dorian’s throat.
Shifting enough to put some space between them, Dorian stared him down with a sad grin. “I can’t continue to do this, Kes.”
“Oh…” was all he could respond with, pulling even further away. Then why did Dorian bother to build him up just to cast him aside?
Dorian prodded Kestrel’s forehead. “Stop those thoughts running through that mind of yours. I meant, I’ll go wherever you want. Back to Orlais,” although puckered lips showed what he thought of that idea, “back to Skyhold. I’d even stay with your Clan again, if you prefer.”
Kestrel was stunned, slowly blinking with surprise. That wasn’t what he expected to hear. “You’d sleep in the woods, traveling around in an aravel, for an indeterminate length of time just to be with me?”
“I waded through the cursed waters of Cresthold and trudged the rainy beaches of Storm Coast, and you doubt I’d remain by your side with your Clan? I love you, and I know Tevinter holds terrible memories for you. I wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to leave, but I’m not leaving your side again.”
“Dorian, all I’ve wanted since Corypheus died is you. Tevinter is worse than the Fade, but you have work to do here. You’re not leaving, and I’ll be with you for as long as you’ll have me.”
Dorian sought out Kestrel’s hand. Having it in his grasp, he placed a gentle kiss to the ring still secure on his finger. “Forever it is, then. I should’ve known when the ring didn’t come off,” he finished in a mutter. Suddenly, a look of horror washed over his face. “I went to the pit after I was told your body was burned…there were remains there and I…”
“You took what you thought was a piece of me with you?”
Dorian opened a small pouch on his belt and retrieved a charred finger bone. With a look of absolute disgust, he whispered, “Whose bone am I holding if not yours?”
“Morven’s.”
“Maker’s breath!” Dorian chucked the bone across the tent, through the opening. “Mother thought he ran away with that boy, too afraid to face her wrath, when he didn’t show back up. She was highly disappointed, but I can’t say I was sad to see him gone. Now that I know the truth, I really should’ve known you were alive!”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Dorian. You had no way of knowing.”
“True. And I’m going to be quite peeved at you for a bit for letting me believe you’d truly died. You’ll have to work for my forgiveness.” Dorian smirked that oh-so familiar smirk that went straight to Kestrel’s groin.
“Forever,” Kestrel breathed, leaning in close, although something stopped him from closing the gap completely. Some nagging lack of self-worth left him lingering close with lips slightly parted and brow creased in doubt.
Dorian didn’t hesitate. He kissed Kestrel fast and hard, and the groan of appreciation that left one of them, maybe both of them, was sinful and completely unavoidable.
The kiss was tears of sorrow and joy and love all compressed into a single, peaceful moment between the two of them. And then it turned needy and desperate.
Kestrel shifted his position, straddling Dorian. He took a moment to stare down at Dorian from his new height, fingers skimming along the shorn side of his head before threading through the base of the ponytail and pinned him in place with a harsh hold.
“Kes,” Dorian groaned, lips parted in need, but unable to close the distance between them.
“Why have the last two months felt longer than the last two years apart?” Kestrel whispered, mouth hovering close but not close enough.
Dorian smirked. “I missed you too.”
That playful grin was his downfall from the first time he met Dorian. That hadn’t changed over the years. Unable to resist him any longer, Kestrel crushed his lips against Dorian’s, tongue questing out to meet his. This man was Kestrel’s whole world. Gone was the struggle of the last two months, gone was the wedding waiting for them, gone was the worry of being noticed or caught. Even though doubt and shadows still plagued him, nothing else mattered but Dorian. He lost himself in Dorian’s mouth, in Dorian’s touch, in the soothing scent of sandalwood that permeated the air around him. It was all too much and not enough at the same time.
Dorian seemed to feel the same, for he grabbed Kestrel’s hips and pushed him down on his cock tenting the thin fabric of his pants.
With only thin leggings on himself, Kestrel moaned with the lack of barrier between them, and Dorian pressed up further. “I want you. Now. Right now,” Kestrel whispered, urgent and eager.
“Eh-hem.” Someone cleared their voice nearby.
Both men stilled before reluctantly separating.
“Seems like that may have to wait,” Dorian murmured.
Swamped by barely buried fears, Kestrel remained rigid and watched Dorian for his reaction to the visitor.
“Dorian, everyone is waiting for you, for your own wedding that you inanely agreed to, and here I find you making out with a slave instead! If you were this determined to fuck it up, you should’ve declined the marriage agreement.”
Kestrel recognized Maevaris’ voice and turned his head to find her annoyed glare land on him. He watched as it shifted from irritation to confusion to wonder.
“Oh! Now I understand! Don’t quite understand how you’re here, alive, mind you, but I completely understand what has Dorian preoccupied now.”
“He’s not dead, Mae,” Dorian said, arms wrapping around Kestrel possessively, as if he was worried if he let Kestrel go, he’d disappear again.
“I can see that. Now, what’s the plan? I assume poor Atria needs to be informed. And then…?”
“We have to stop your mother, Dorian. This is our chance to confront her in front of a crowd,” Kestrel said.
Maevaris nodded her head. “I agree. If she makes a deal with you before half of the elite of Tevinter, she’ll have to honor it.”
“The only chance we have of that happening is to catch her off guard,” Dorian said with a frown. That frown suddenly shifted to a devilish grin. “Walk down the aisle with me, Kes.”
Kestrel looked at him, confused. “What?”
“Walk down the aisle with me instead of Atria. My mother believes you dead, it’ll completely shock her. Before she collects her wits, I’ll lay the blame on her for the attacks, stealing you from me, and for forcing the marriage.”
“And if she attacks?” Maevaris asked.
“I doubt she will before a crowd. But, if it happens, we can fight back. She has to make the first move, though, if our defense is to be completely sanctioned.”
Kestrel and Maevaris nodded in agreement.
“Mae, can you please give us a moment?”
Grinning, Maevaris said, “Of course, my dear. But don’t take too long. The crowd is waiting for the show. I’ll break the news to Atria.”
They both watched her leave before turning their focus back to each other.
“Do you think this will work?” Kestrel asked.
“It’s our best chance at being free from her.”
“I’ll kill her if I have to,” whispered Kestrel into the growing space between them.
“Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”
Kestrel kissed Dorian’s cheek before climbing off his lap and removing one of the blades underneath his cloak. Passing it over to Dorian, he said, “Just in case.” He’d kill anyone he needed to keep Dorian safe, but Dorian needed his own protection too.
Dorian accepted the blade and promptly shifted topics, asking with a playful wink, “Ready to walk down the aisle?”
Kestrel flushed. “With you? Yes. Oh! But…” Didn’t to-be spouses normally lay everything on the table before getting married? Even if this wasn’t the real deal, Kestrel still felt the need to confess bubbling up within him.
Dorian watched him with a raised brow. “…Yes?”
“Uhm…just to let you know, I sort of adopted a kid while we were apart.”
Dorian’s face contorted, and Kestrel couldn’t be sure what the expression staring back at him meant.
“The boy…? The boy Dalish from my mother’s estate?” Dorian finally said after a heavy pause.
Nodding, Kestrel remained silent to allow Dorian to process.
“I shouldn’t be surprised. You took in every stray animal at Skyhold, even those terrifying draskolisks and the oversized nug. Why, I’m surprised you aren’t running an orphanage at this point. And, unlike the beasts, at least he’s old enough to handle his own waste, right?” Dorian muttered, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
Kestrel laughed. That was Dorian’s reluctant acceptance. He’d take it for the time being, knowing Dorian would warm to the boy soon enough. “I think you two will get along well,” he said once his laughter broke. He offered a reassuring pat to Dorian’s shoulder.
“And there’s always the Circle to ship him off to if not,” Dorian said with a grin.
***
After further delay to ensure Kestrel was presentable to the public of Tevinter and to allow for a surprisingly amiable good luck and goodbye from Dorian’s now ex-fiance, they were ready to proceed with their plan to demand their freedom from Dorian’s mother. In hindsight, it was a poorly thought-out plan, and if they weren’t so high on the feelings from their reunion, maybe calmer minds would have recognized this. As it stood, they marched arm-in-arm down the field as delicate music filled the air, heralding the arrival of the groom and his bride. They made it to the back end of the guests before an errant bow screeched over the wrong string and the music shuddered to a halt.
Offended gasps and hushed whispers filled the silence, growing louder during their procession along the white velvet walkway. Chairs creaked, everybody repositioning to follow their trek closer and closer to the gaping Grand Cleric waiting under the arbor.
Kestrel clung hard to Dorian’s arm, hoping the crowd didn’t notice how tight his grip was. He kept his back straight and head held high even as sneers and racist remarks waited behind every shocked expression, yet on the inside, he longed to stealth. As Inquisitor, he learned to tolerate being the center of attention, but that had waned over the years. Now he wanted nothing more than to slip away from the hard glares.
Dorian seemed to sense his unease and placed his hand over Kestrel’s, thumb stroking Kestrel’s tumultuous hold.
It calmed him, soothed his very soul to know that he was by Dorian’s side again. He was the one walking down the aisle with him, no one else. Even if this was a farce, Dorian was his, and he’d fiercely protect those he loved. Dorian has been right about that. Kestrel cloaked himself in his anger, pissed that people would pass judgement on them so quickly without knowing anything about them. He glared back at those Magisters and Altus and anyone else who dared to meet his gaze, feeling feral and fierce.
“Why, Inquisitor, what a pleasant surprise. I thought you dead. And very few runaway slaves return to their Mistress by their own will.”
Kestrel turned his snarl to Aquinea perched upon her platform, overlooking the ensemble.
“I didn’t return to you as your slave. We came to negotiate.”
“Negotiate with a slave? You wear my brand, pet. I only use your former title as a reward for returning to your side, not to give you a false sense of power.” She waved her hand towards Kestrel. “Guards, retrieve my property.”
The guard stationed around the platform moved to intercept, but Dorian held up his hand, buying them a moment’s pause.
Dorian squeezed Kestrel’s hand. “Mother, this is unacceptable. Kestrel is not a slave, but the Inquisitor of Fereldan and Orlais. You forced his enslavement before through trickery and deceit.”
“What do I care what importance he carries in other countries? In Tevinter, he’s a lowly raffas, and my men captured him fairly in the streets of Minrathous. I’ve branded him and claimed him as my own.”
“Kestrel won’t be your pet, and I will not be going through my your marriage arrangements.”
“Your sense of entitlement is impressive, son, but fruitless. If you will not keep to the deal we agreed upon, then I see no further use for you. Guards, kill him but capture the slave.”
Six men advanced on them, shoving startled guests out of their way. Soon enough the people got the message and abandoned their seats to form a semi-circle around the podium
Aquinea didn’t seem to care about attacking them in front of an audience which worried Kestrel. Did she have enough power or enough clout that she didn’t fear the repercussions from attacking a Magister in the open?
That was the last Kestrel was able to ponder as two guards lunged at him, weapons still sheathed. He had the advantage. They were working to subdue while he had no such constraints.
He yanked his dagger from its sheath on his lower back just in time to cut into the forearm of a guard reaching for him. The man jolted back with a startled hiss, gripping the cut as blood ran freely. Yet as he dropped back, the second man jumped him from behind, putting him into a choke hold and pulling him off balance. The two of them toppled onto the ground. Kestrel used the momentum of their fall to flip the blade in his palm and plunge it deep into the man’s gut. He was immediately released, and Kestrel scrambled to his feet, searching for Dorian.
Dorian had made quick work of the other four guards. Three burned corpses sprawled on the ground around him while the fourth stumbled over to Aquinea. He made a choking noise, reaching for her. Then he exploded. Blood and bits of flesh and innards rained down around two booted feet left behind, falling primarily on the stage and on Aquinea, turning her white dress crimson.
“We will win, Mother. It’s time you see reason and let us be,” Dorian said, strands of unruly hair plastered to his sweaty forehead. He looked glorious, and he looked pissed.
Aquinea dragged her fingers over her lips, smearing blood from her cheek along her face. A pink tongue darted out, tasting. “Seems I’ll have to do this myself,” she said, sounding completely put out. Her gaze locked on to the remaining guard nursing his arm. With a smirk, she gestured and more blood poured from his wound.
Kestrel and Dorian stood horrified as a shocked gasp rose up around them. Still, no one came to help.
The collected blood launched as red spears at Dorian, slamming into a hastily generated barrier.
Kestrel stealthed, bloodied dagger ready. If he could just get to her…
Dorian’s shield shattered around him, sending him to his knees. He was helpless and by the grin on Aquinea’s face, she knew it.
Abandoning all plans of assassination, Kestrel tucked the blade close to his arm and darted towards Dorian, tackling him just as a fresh spell was cast. It slammed into his back, knocking the breath from his lungs and leaving him gasping.
Dorian frowned beneath him, cupping Kestrel’s face in his hands. “Amatus?”
And that’s when Kestrel realized everything was horribly wrong.
While he could feel Dorian’s gentle touch, he couldn’t move. Nothing would respond to his mind’s command. Not a blink, not a twitch, not a part of him moved as he willed it. Fortunately, his lungs still fought for air and his heart thudded in his chest. All he could do was watch Dorian struggle beneath him, pinned and trying desperately to figure out what was wrong with Kestrel. And then the burning started.
It was subtle at first, a tingling in his veins of his extremities before it worked its way inward, intensifying until every cell of his body screamed as if it were on fire. Strangled gasps left Kestrel as his body seized, its only way of a fought-for response. Water trickled out his eyes, out of his nose, dripping red onto Dorian’s face. Not water, then.
“Kes? Kes!” Dorian cried, clutching his face.
The fingers digging into his cheeks felt like a gentle caress compared to the raging inferno that burned within him, blood boiling in his veins.
Kestrel watched as Dorian’s attention was redirected at someone incoming. There was a jerk of Kestrel’s hand as Dorian’s face settled into a delicate mask of disgust, barely hiding the fear and rage behind it.
“His death is on your hands, son. I wanted to keep him alive, but you had to fight,” Aquinea said, her boot appearing in the periphery of Kestrel’s vision, near Dorian’s head.
The agony was too much to bare, darkening the edge of his vision. Yet the most frustrating part was not being able to scream or curse out the pain or clench his body against an incoming blow. He was helpless to whatever blood magic spell had taken hold of him.
Aquinea‘s boot inched closer, her shadow darkening their forms. “I wish you’d never been born, Dorian. You were such a waste of my time and energy. Halward agreed until the end when you somehow persuaded him otherwise, and I—“
Without warning, Dorian snagged her ankle and yanked with all his might.
Aquinea yelp in surprise as she fell to the ground next to Dorian.
Again, calling on his strength, Dorian wrapped his arms around Kestrel and shoved up, rolling them over until Kestrel was wedged between Dorian on top, and Aquinea’s lower half underneath.
Kestrel barely registered what happened next as the void of unconsciousness threatened to pull him under. It’d be a welcomed relief from his melting insides.
Metal glinted in the sunlight as Dorian reared back, blade-in-hand plummeting towards Aquinea’s heart.
Then Kestrel slipped into blessed unconsciousness.
