Dorian Pavus has an amazing fashion sense not (solely) because he’s an aristocrat and has access to a certain level of attire, but bc he knows his shit and can actually sew and mend stuff.
Have a messy sketch of him mending your inquisitor’s robe
-I know i’ve been off Tumblr lately, but I’ve been focusing on school projects :) I’ve recently (finally!) restarted Dragon Age Inquisition and a bunch of feels punched me in the guts.-
My favorite men looks great as always, let’s ignore how one of them is dying and other one looks like St. Mary.
First DA fanart in new year! And there will be way more of it bc I’d like to focus mainly on Dragon Age and Genshin content this year (The Arcana still dead oops bye).
The journey back was a leisurely one. They had a whole caravan of Kestrel’s mounts from Skyhold to take back to Tevinter, afterall. After a tearful goodbye from Dennett, at least the harts and horses, and a light pat to the drascolisks and giant nug, they set off with Dalish and Taeven joining them. Neither knew how to access the eluvian that had brought them to Skyhold, and Dorian promised a concerned Dalish he’d help him with the studies he was missing.
The journey back was an uneventful one. Kestrel practice attuning himself to the quirks of his new arm with Taeven’s aid while Dorian and Dalish worked on his magic studies. Kestrel often found himself staring at the two of them, admiring their growing bond during the trip.
The journey back was an emotional one.
“You know, there is a path to adoption,” Taeven whispered one time when Kestrel found himself staring again with a fond smile.
Immediately, his attention was on Taeven. “There is?”
“Sure. If you have a magister sponsor the adoption, no one will even look twice. He’d take the Pavus name and become an official heir.”
“That’s wonderful news! I have to check with Dorian, but I’m sure he would agree.”
“Would I?”
Kestrel jumped and turned his attention to Dorian. Both him and Dalish were watching him with similar expressions full of love and amusement, although Dalish’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. That could only mean one thing. “You already went through with the adoption, didn’t you?” Kestrel said, prodding Dorian in the chest with the accusation, struggling to keep his own tears in check.
“Before we left for Skyhold, I had the papers drawn up. I was going to surprise you with them once we returned home. Everyone was to keep quiet until then, but then I guess some of us are better at keeping secrets than others,” Dorian answered, looking pointedly at Taeven. “Dalish kept the secret better than you, you old man!”
Taeven grinned and shrugged. “My memory must’ve failed me.”
They all started laughing and didn’t stop until they were wiping tears from their eyes and embracing.
Kestrel had gained so much in the last month, it overshadowed everything that had been taken from him. He’d gained a husband, a son, friends, both new and old, and they all made up his family. That found family was his true happiness.
The sky darkened in color to true night when most would already be asleep, yet the celebration in their honor continued at the tavern. Dorian and Kestrel shared in the festivities for a time, but the need to be alone and together grew and grew until they stole away.
Hands had already undone belts and leather before they made it to Kestrel’s tower room. At the bottom of the stairs, Kestrel’s heavy robe landed with a thud on the floor.
Dorian backed up the stairs, lips still locked with Kestrel as his own outer garment fluttered to the floor.
Muttering against Dorian’s mouth, Kestrel complained, “Why’d you have to wear more clothes tonight than your other wedding?”
Dorian chuckled before smothering Kestrel with another heart-stopping kiss.
As they cleared the steps, Kestrel pulled the golden tie loose from Dorian’s hair before grabbing the freed locks in his hand and tugged.
They parted with a pleased gasp from Dorian. His face was flushed, evident even against his darker skin, and his arousal strained against his pants, clearly longing for release without the robe to cover the thin fabric beneath. “You make me breathless, husband of mine,” Dorian whispered.
Husband. He was Dorian’s husband. The thought punched him in the gut, and Kestrel grimaced against fresh tears and raw emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.
I am sooooo bad about updating Tumblr. I’m sorry, guys! I posted this last week ^^; Commission done by the wonderful @istehlurvz which perfectly fits the wedding scene.
The next morning, Kestrel woke up alone, fingers ghosting over an empty space next to him in the bed. The sheets were cool to the touch. Dorian hadn’t been in bed for a while. With a disappointed groan, Kestrel turned over in bed to face the balcony. And Cole.
Kestrel jerked back, sitting up. Not only was Cole present, but another man stood beside him.
Kestrel clutched the sheets close to him, very aware of his nudity in front of the stranger. “Can I…help you?” he asked, embarrassed.
“He asked to see you. Given your intimate past with him, I didn’t think you would mind.”
Kestrel looked the visitor over and couldn’t deny the fact that there was something familiar about him. Between his long, dark hair with short shorn sides and gray eyes, he looked like he could be related to Dorian. And then he smiled.
Kestrel froze in horror. “You…it’s you!” He clutched the sheet to him tighter.
Cole frowned. “I thought it would be okay, but you’re not happy.”
“Of course I’m not, Cole! This….creature, he raped me.”
“We were both forced into a task we’d rather not do,” the non-Dorian said.
Swallowing hard, Kestrel forced himself to ignore the demon and continued addressing Cole. “He may be wearing a different face, but I recognize him as the demon he is.”
“He’s no longer a desire demon. Once his captor died, he was released from his shackles and returned to the Fade. There, he was able to regain his true form as a spirit of purpose.”
“Yes, which is why I wanted to see you, Kestrel. To thank you. You freed me with Master’s death. And to apologize. Being pulled from the Fade by force twists us, corrupts us. I was as much enslaved by my need to feed on your and Master’s desires as I was by the summoning itself. I regret the harm I caused you.”
Realized I forgot to post this here so it’s a bit late!
The next several weeks were exhausting as Kestrel worked to rebuild his body that had wasted away. Although he added weight back, he felt lighter and lighter with each passing day, his burdens sloughing away as his body and mind healed in the bright house surrounded by those that cared for him.
He had a constant companion, normally Dorian and Dalish, but sometimes Alvinius or Taeven. Even Atronis hovered in the background at times, although usually only if Alvinius was near. Kestrel didn’t miss the fleeting touches or warm glances they shared, and he found himself hoping something more would grow between the two. It would be a welcomed, happy ending for those two to fall in love with each other after suffering through their own unrequited love.
***
It took a week before he could bathe himself without Dorian to fret over him, two before he could walk unaided.
Dalish pumped healing magic through him with every small touch, even sharing the bed with him and Dorian to keep a trickle running into him, much to Dorian’s increasing displeasure. They kept their own touches chaste in Dalish’s presence, plus they knew Kestrel didn’t have the strength for anything strenuous.
Even the nightmares seemed to sense his exhaustion and stayed away, although that was likely due to Dorian wrapping his arms around Kestrel each night, allowing him to shelter in his warm embrace, and Dalish holding onto his hand even through sleep.
Time passed strangely after that. Snippets of conversation flitted through his consciousness.
“It’s been a week and there’s been no response.”
“I know that, Tae. Did you send for the boy? Dalish?”
“Yes, but it’ll likely be another week before he arrives. I sent a messenger to Atronis and Dalish as soon as we had word of their location, but that was only a few days ago.”
“Kaffas. Maybe that boy could help heal Kes more than what I’ve been able to do. I fear…” Dorian’s voice choked off.
“He’s taking fluids for now. That spell would have killed him if you hadn’t killed Aquinea when you did. Because of you, Kestrel has a fighting chance. His body just needs time to heal.”
A hand roughly grabbed Kestrel’s and lifted, pressing it against a tear-stained cheek. “Fight, Kes. I need you to fight for me, for you…Please.”
Dorian sounds like he was in so much pain, and Kestrel longed to acknowledge his touch, but no matter how hard Kestrel willed his eyes to open, they refused. The darkness soon pulled him back under.
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.
So i know I’m late for Dragon Age Day but wanted to draw some of my boy Mahanon years after Trespasser. I have invested more in this MC then anyone ive ever made and DragonAge is my comfort game. Also gave him a flame arm cause magic and i can.
“It’s been the same for the past three days,” he says. He turns the cup only slightly, porcelain against porcelain, stuck in that matching saucer. The tea remains untouched, still steaming. He briefly rubs at the corner of his eye. “I’m already halfway to the room when it starts.” His hand moves from his eye to settle on his shoulder, a half hug, as he leans forward, elbow on the table. “The mirror is waiting for me.”
It’s always on its own. Surrounded by sunshine, the glass of the windows cast brilliant vibrations of light across the clean floor, all colliding at the center. He tracks mud inside. His footsteps make no sound, or perhaps they’re simply silenced by it. It hums a song, low and rolling. Gnarled branches make up its frame, with halla carved by his own hand or perhaps a hand he used to have. The windows gently shake with the song. Dust falls from the cracks in the ceiling. It has its back to him. The sun sets and rises in that room a thousand times before he stands before it.
The mirror shows him what he already knows in his heart to be true. It reflects a pattern of infection, just under his skin. Mahanon presses fingers against the scar of his arm, gone from the shoulder, and follows the luminescent green bloom. The mirror reflects his carving of flesh, heaving chunks. Piercing fingertips into bone, pulling at the strings of vein and nerve through weighted muscle. There’s always the need to go further, to seek out the source of the rot. There’s always more fade lurking in his depths. The song hums what he’s told himself a thousand times. It will never be gone.
He tears himself apart, unravels himself to the end. The taint is in the weave. He is left, small and alone, but for his reflection. It regards him kindly, at least. His own mouth opens to speak, but it’s only the song and Mahanon can’t understand the words. They’re from a tongue far older than his own. Something shifts under his own reflection’s skin, as though someone else is wearing him.
“It doesn’t change,” Mahanon tells them, rubbing at the dark circles under his eyes. He turns the cup once again, can’t bring himself to drink just yet. “And I can’t hear the Well anymore.” Dorian and Maevaris exchange a glance. Dorian reaches out, puts his hand over Mahanon’s.
