#dorian x rilienus

[midnightprelude]

Major Arcana: Hanged Man

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

Masterpost | First | Previous | Next

CW: Southern Circles of Magi; conversion therapy (aftermath); successful blood magic ritual; recovering from trauma

The Circles in the South were appalling. That was all Dorian could think, over and over, as he followed the novice away from where his father was amiably chatting with one of the elder scions of the Gallows. An apt name for such a cold place. Cold - in the air, seeping into the stones. Cold - in the study of eyes behind heavy place helmets. 

“And this is the library,” Karl Thekla said as he pushed a narrow door open into a dark and crowded room.

Dorian fought a sneeze. “Oh, yes, very nice.” He could have fit three of them into the library at Qarinus. “Your lamps seem to have gone out.”

Karl shook his head. He was a broad sort of fellow with soft blue eyes and an impressively well kept beard. “We had an ordinance from the Council. No more magelight.”

“…they want you to use… open flames… in a library?” Dorian asked slowly. “Does this ‘council’ know that books are typically made of paper and parchment and therefore are quite flammable?”

“Hm,” Karl answered him, smiling and noncommittal. “We have your paper on interdimensional temporal analogs. I’ll show you.”

“Gladly.” More than he expected from a glorified prison. The reason his father had thought to bring him to this dismal place was entirely unclear to him. They hadn’t seen the sun once since they’d set foot underneath those ominous statues in the port—men and women twisted in expressions of agony—and Dorian was wondering if he would return to Tevinter with a deathly pallor. “What manner of study do you conduct here, Karl?”

“This and that. I used to-“ He shook his head, drawing a long drawer out crowded with scrolls. “Mostly, I help the elders with their work. Keep the books organized. That’s a task that takes a fair bit of time as you can imagine.” He poked through the scrolls, checking labels by the flicker of a flame through glass. “What is it like?” he asked quietly. “Up there?”

It was the first time Karl had asked anything of the sort and it caught him off guard. How much was he supposed to say? Would it hurt father’s business if he confided in the apprentice? Dorian glanced over his shoulder, lowering his voice. “In Tevinter, the land is so riddled with magic it seeps into the soil. It makes everything hum, feel more alive. I hadn’t noticed it until the first time I left. The world feels dead here.” He dropped his gaze, tucking his hands into his pockets. “No offense.” They had a mage, manually organizing scrolls. It seemed a dull, meaningless, unnecessary sort of task. “What do you mean: you ‘used to’?”

“Before they moved me here. I’m from Ferelden. I trained hounds and pigeons and hawks there.” Karl’s smile softened. “It was my home. I was in love.” He cleared his throat as one of the plate-clad Templars walked past them, lifting one of the scrolls. “Here you are, my lord.” And Dorian had a sudden rushing sensation that the man’s quiet, happy smiles since he’d met him that morning were largely for the benefit of the people guarding him. 

More like a prison than he’d believed. 

As the footsteps faded, Karl took the scroll back with a shake of his head. “You don’t want that. It’s a history of spoons. Actually, there’s an interesting little section on filigrees, but… One moment, I’ll find the paper. I had some questions actually. Quite a bit was censored before it reached us. Is your tour taking you as far as Ferelden?”

“No, not quite so far as that. Montsimmard is our last stop.” Ferelden was a backwater, his father had said, with little but fleas and rain. Karl had seemed pleasant enough, though. If he’d come from Ferelden, it couldn’t be that bad, could it? “Would you have me send a message to her on your behalf?”

“Him.” Karl bowed his head. “I’d be grateful if you would try. I’m not certain if they’re getting stopped on my end or his. Haven’t had word from him in months and the man’s a chatterbox. Ah, here we are.” He drew a scroll free with a gilded baton and a series of inscriptions on its sheath. 

Him? A man? 

“You see when we received the shipment, it had to go through a border station - all the scrolls from Tevinter do - and they’ve made a muddle of specifics in section four…”

Dorian blinked. He was staring at his own manuscript, but all of the details were wrong. Sigils misplaced, text blotted out. He winced, shaking his head. “Anyone who tried to use this would be incinerated, at best. It’s utterly useless as written.”

“We had gathered as much,” Karl surmised, gently touching the parchment as though it could be valued as anything more than kindling. “Terrence did try, despite my warning, poor man. Dreamers will dream. Still, the summary was inspiring. I had a theory…” He set the scroll down and glanced over his shoulder, drawing a long folded sheet of papers from inside of his robe and carefully shifting his broad shoulders to conceal them in a corner. “That this might be closer to what had been intended? I don’t see why they bother mucking about with these things. It’s not as though we’re likely to get ahold of the lyrium, let alone the ingredients required. Still. Makes them happy. I guess that’s something.”

Dorian studied the scroll, humming to himself. A bit of a brutalist approach, surely, but it was nearly there. He traced a few sigils with his fingertip, lines appearing burnished into the parchment. “Not a bad go of it.”

“High praise,” Karl breathed, casting a quick grin in his direction. “I’m a glutton for theory. Yes. That- I wouldn’t have thought of it that way. Thank you.”

“As am I,” Dorian murmured, ducking his head. It had only been a spell to harness energy from storms. Why in the world had it been fiddled with? Why had they banned magelight, of all bloody things? Why had Karl been taken from his home? Was it because of- A fog seemed to creep into his mind then, slow and opaque, making it difficult to think. Karl was rolling up a piece of parchment and stowing it away. “I apologize, what was it we were speaking of?”

“What weren’t we speaking of?” Karl asked with a little roll of his eyes, waiting again for the heavy footfalls of a Templar to pass. “Magic in the soil, you said? Anders would bloody love that.”

“Anders?” Dorian asked softly.

Karl nodded once, his smile warming, his eyes softening. “That’s one of his names. One of many. Too brilliant to have just the one.”

“…and you love this-“ Dorian blinked, something not quite making sense. “This Anders. From Ferelden.”

“From the top of my head to the tips of my toes. And the backs of my knees. Definitely those.” Karl ducked his head, nodding down the row of books. “Do you want to see- he does these drawings of cats that are amazing. I’ve them in my chamber.”

“Cats,” Dorian repeated, bewildered. This man has just admitted to a near stranger that he- Love. The death of duty, his father had said. A fool’s solace. Dorian nodded his head, too confused to protest. “Yes, why don’t you- I’d be interested in seeing them.”

So he followed the initiate down the hallway and around a corner, up a staircase and around another bend until they reached another narrow door. Karl ducked inside, waving at the door. “Shut that?” he asked, kneeling and pulling a board from the wall under the window to draw a pile of papers from the floor. “Just need a moment to find them.”

It took him more than a moment, untying ribbons and retying them, sorting the piles of papers into stacks around the floor like a squirrel with its hoard of nuts. Letters. Notes. Sketches of animals. Karl grinned, collecting a few deeply-creased papers that had clearly been folded and unfolded many times and held them out. “See. He can get all the poses. Impressive, yeah?”

Dorian stared at the paper in his hands, holding it like it was a priceless artifact. To Karl, it certainly was. There were five depictions of the same cat, with the inscription ‘Prince Fuzzybum’ emblazoned along the top in an inelegant scrawl. Sleeping peacefully, batting at a butterfly, lying on its back, curled into a ball, and licking its lips lazily, the chubby striped cat was caught forever on the tattered parchment. Something in Dorian’s chest ached. “Very impressive,” he agreed, feeling dizzy. “Why are you here, instead of there?”

Karl’s proud smile slipped as he took the paper back, carefully smoothing it with his thumb. “It’s safer this way. It’s supposed to be,” he added, the furrow between his brows deepening. “I thought it would be. I’m not so sure anymore. I suppose that’s not really a thing, up north, is it? Mages not being allowed to- Because the Chantry says we’re supposed to put Andraste above all else. I tried to, for a long time.” He laughed a little. “She can’t compete with Anders. Too bad for her.”

Family above all else. The Imperium above all else. Perhaps they weren’t so different, after all. 

A sharp pain shot through his temples and Dorian doubled over, reaching towards the other man for support. His vision blurred, his stomach lurching.

“What-“ Dorian muttered, feeling as though he might spill the contents of his stomach. “Where-“

Karl’s hands were steady on his shoulders. Warm. More slender than they’d seemed. “I’m with you. You’re alright.” The deep Ferelden accent was gone, replaced by clipped consonants from the inner lakes and rounded Carastes vowels. “You’re strong. Be in this moment.”

There was something so familiar in that voice, but the moment Dorian had the thought, it slipped away like sand through his fingertips. He leaned into the touch, his frame shaking violently.

“Which moment?” Dorian whispered, but his own voice sounded far away and warped. “Where am I?”

“He told you about the man he loves,” Karl said slowly in a voice that wasn’t his own, watching him. Something about the way he watched - solemn and steady - felt so familiar. Familiar like the voice. “And you told him. You told him- What did you tell him, Dorian?”

“I don’t know,” Dorian whispered, his voice catching in his throat. “I can’t- I don’t-“

“Skin like whisky?” Karl laughed, the Ferelden drawl returned with gusto as he leaned against the bed a few feet away. He had a few papers in his hands. “You’re a poet. You need to help me write something better. Mine are all: ‘your hair is good, I want to pull it’.”

Whisky?

Pull?

Dorian felt ill.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I can help you,” Dorian coughed, bile on his tongue. “I wish I could. I don’t- I’m afraid I don’t know how.”

Skin like fine whisky, eyes like mossy pools. He could spend an eternity studying the myriad shades in those irises and never grow tired. Trace the curve of that smirk with his fingertips and still never understand all of its facets. He could-

What?

What could he- 

Why couldn’t he-

Dorian wrapped his arms around himself, closing his eyes tightly.

What did you tell him?

What did he say? 

Where was he? 

Why was everything agonizing?

“He sounds,” Karl was saying, his voice fading in and out, lost in a conversation that Dorian couldn’t quite keep up with, “and I say this with the utmost respect for your lover, like a nerd.”

He-

Dorian doubled over onto the ground, his hands pressed onto the cold, unforgiving stone.

His lover. His lover.

My-

He gasped, crying out in pain, his insides feeling as though they’d been set alight. 

“He sees the world in color and light, hears his magic like music,” his own voice was saying, though his lips didn’t move. Burning, scorching his skin, searing his lungs. “He makes me feel whole, for the first time in my life.”

“Yeah,” Karl sighed, resting his head back against the straw mattress. “Yeah. That’s the stuff. That’s the whole thing. I miss him every minute of every day, you know? How long until you get to go back to yours?”

“I don’t know,” Dorian heard himself admit softly. “He’s training with a Rivaini spiritsinger. I haven’t heard from him in months.”

Who?

Who was he-

“You write my letter and I’ll write yours. Maybe we can confuse the blokes into actually answering,” Karl suggested with a wink. “Keep them on their toes.” 

How could he not remember? Why did everything hurt?

Dorian’s voice was a dim echo, as though heard from underwater. “Yes, why don’t we? Perhaps that will catch their attention.”

“You’re lucky,” Karl said, sprawling on the floor to write. “To love out loud. To see the clouds when you want. Don’t take that for granted.” 

“I won’t,” Dorian said, through another’s mouth, the vision fragmenting and shifting. Aloud. Somehow the word felt wrong. “I promise.”

[tevinteredeemer]

Tag Dump.

. 

[dalish-rogue]

Fic Rec Friday!

Tagged by @midnightprelude! I haven’t done much fic reading at all lately (let alone for DA T_T) BUT I did want to share what I have been following whenever I have the chance! 

Pour Forth Thy Soul in Ecstasy by @midnightprelude and @oftachancer <3 Dorian x Rilienus, Rated E, 150k+ words (still ongoing!), pre-Inquisition timeline Forbidden romance at a fantasy magic boarding school, complete with drama, dueling, political intrigue, and everything in between! WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANT?!

Natevember 2020 by @noswordstyle <3 Various pairings & ratings, tagged at the beginning of each chapter, mostly G-T, gen/friendship prompts as well! A month of delightful prompts focusing on the incomparable Nathaniel Howe. Each one can be read on its own - there’s fluff, humor, angst, modern AU, etc.! Like I said, I haven’t done a lot of reading lately, but I obviously had to hunt for some ME fics after I finished my first playthrough of the trilogy. So I’m going to add two of those in here too :P

How to Kiss a Turian by @juniperandjawbones <3 Garrus x Femshep, Rated E, 31k+ words (complete), ME2 timeline SO DELIGHTFULLY FLUFFY. And humorous AND sexy. Basically, if there was any doubt Garrus is the best boyfriend ever, this will definitely seal the deal. Plus, some amazing headcanons on turian traditions and culture!

Calibrations by @noswordstyle <3 Garrus x Femshep, Rated G, 871 words (complete), pre-relationship Mo does it again, so she’s on the rec list TWICE. <3 Some of that sweet, sweet ME1 pining. IT HURTS SO GOOD even if I just want to smoosh them together already.

Tagging anyone who would like to share what they’ve been reading lately! Feel free to tag me if you decide to do it, I’d love to see what other people are reading and add to my never-ending to-read list. :D

[baejax-the-great]

Five Fanfic Friday

1. Fire Escapes by Elpie (Horribibble). Varric x Dorian, modern AU. I’ve been trying to get others on this ship and finally went searching. This is a really nice little story. 

2. In Silence, Remembrance  by  missingnowrites. Inquisitor x Alistair. What if after deserting the Grey Wardens, Alistair joined the Chargers under a different name? I love the idea of Alistair becoming Grim. 

3. Pour Forth Thy Soul in Ecstasy by @midnightprelude​ and @oftachancer​. Dorian x Rilienus. Dorian is thrown in mage reform school (college?) and shockingly his natural charm and wit don’t free him from his predicament instantly. Guess we’ll have to find out what happens. 

4. After the Glitter Fades by @sasskarian​. Hawke x Fenris, modern AU. Hawke and Fenris are movie stars in a torrid love affair. Fenris has a mysterious past. Also Cassandra is investigating a murder mystery? Varric, as ever, is a delight. 

5. o love, open (show me my country) by Razzaroo. Fenris gen fic. A character study into Fenris upon his arrival in Kirkwall. Very lovely. 

I stole the banner from @joufancyhuh​. 

[geekelfie]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Rilienus, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus Characters: Dorian Pavus, Rilienus (Dragon Age), Halward Pavus, Livia Herathinos, Magister Herathinos, Iron Bull, Other Assholes Additional Tags: Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Sex, Gay Sex, Homophobia, canon homophobia, Transphobia, Angst, Non-Graphic Violence, Smut, Bad Parent Halward Pavus, Halward Pavus Being an Asshole Summary:

Dorian is with Rilienus in modern Minrathous when everything starts going wrong.

[midnightprelude]

Major Arcana Masterpost

Hi friends! Been a while since I've posted fanfic, but here I am! @oftachancer and I wrote a piece for 30daysofdorian that will be posted in 20 segments from May 1-20. Each day, a piece will be posted at 7:00 PM EST on my blog.

This fic goes through a series of (pre-inquisition) vignettes and memories inspired by Major Arcana cards, as Rilienus tries to unravel the blood magic ritual that's wrapped around Dorian's mind. I've tried to cw tag the sections of the fic that are particularly dark or have certain content, so feel free to skip those.

If you'd like to follow the fic, subscribe to the #major arcana fic tag. I'll try to update the links on this post daily when each part goes live. The overall fic is about ~18-20k.

One: Hierophant

Two: Death, reversed

Three: Emperor

Four: Fool, reversed

Five: Chariot, reversed

Six: Hanged Man

Seven: Tower

Eight: Priestess

Nine: Lovers

Ten: Chariot

Eleven: Justice, reversed

Twelve: Star

Thirteen: Lovers, reversed

Fourteen: Hermit, reversed

Fifteen: Magician, reversed

Sixteen: Strength

Seventeen: Magician

Eighteen: Temperance, reversed

Nineteen: Justice

Twenty: The World

[midnightprelude]

Major Arcana: Lovers

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

Masterpost | First | Previous | Next

CW: mention of solitary confinement; conversion therapy (aftermath); successful blood magic ritual; recovering from trauma

There were cherries in the bowl on the table, dewy, sweating in the Minrathous summer. The green velvet chaise was where it had been before. The chess game midway to completion. Jugs of wine sat on the floor, half-finished. And Rilienus- lean and long, skin like fine whisky, sweat gathered on his spine and sticking his curls to his temples - sprawled on a rented bed with a contented grin curving his lips. “I yield,” he mumbled sleepily. “No more metaphysics.”

Dorian smoothed his palm up Rilienus’ belly, lips curling into a smirk. “I remember this night,” he murmured, kissing the words to Rilienus’ chest. “I don’t believe I minded the cessation of our other discussions.” He squeezed Rilienus’ thigh lightly. “Are you- You’re with me, still?”

He watched Rilienus fall asleep under his hands and remembered the way his heart had stuttered at the sight. Trusting him. Lazy and comfortable and easy. 

Fingers touched the back of his elbow and he turned to find an older version of the man in the bed. Weary and rumpled. He slid his hand down Dorian’s arm and twined their fingers together. “I’m here.”

“Ril,” Dorian drew him close, tangling his fingers in his hair and kissing him in slow, lingering sips. “I love you. I remember you.”

Rilienus’ lips trembled under his own, his arms wrapping around Dorian’s waist. “You do?”

“It felt as though I’d lost a limb. An entire piece of me was missing and I couldn’t remember what I’d been before, but now-“ He leaned back, holding Rilienus’ hands. “Are the twins well? Are they with your mother, too?”

Rilienus nodded slowly, glancing between his eyes. “Yes. Yes, they’re- Plini’s trying to learn the flute. Isobel’s getting that little rabbit to finally sleep in her arms. They’re well. Felix is researching this damned spell.” He leaned his forehead to Dorian’s, breathing slow and deep. “We miss you.”

“Am I- I’m dreaming?” Dorian thumbed his cheek gingerly. His beard was thicker, less kept than it usually was. Dark circles lined his eyes. “How long has it been since I was- Since you’ve been trying to intervene?”

“Three weeks.” Rilienus leaned into Dorian’s touch, tightening his hold. “You didn’t know who I was. You tried to duel me.” He grimaced. “I’m afraid I was rather unsporting.”

“I-“ Dorian skimmed his fingers across Rilienus’ arms. “Did I hurt you?” His eyes widened. “Oh, gods, did I hurt them?”

Rilienus closed his eyes. “None of that matters right now. We’re all safe and well. We just need to bring you home.”

“Rishiri Arcana,” Dorian nodded, frowning. “You mentioned. I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the intricacies.”

“No. I wouldn’t think so.” Rilienus kissed his chin gently. “Dorian, do you want to try to wake up? Do you think you might remember us if you did?”

“Am I me now, or is this manifestation part of a greater whole?” Dorian sighed, rubbing his temples. “I have no idea what the repercussions of that might be.”

“Well,” Rilienus bit his lip. “You’re tied down and in a warding circle. So if you don’t remember us, at least you won’t be able to hurt anyone. There’s that.”

“Ah.” Dorian grimaced. “Wise and prudent, I suppose.”

“Sorry.” He squeezed Dorian’s hip. “It’s a precaution.”

Dorian nodded, leaning into his arms. “I’d like to- Yes. If you think it’s a good idea.”

Rilienus kissed his cheek. “I’ll ask Mada to take the little ones to the lake. Just in case.” He met Dorian’s gaze steadily. “I love you.”

“I forgot you.” Dorian squeezed his hands, his eyes stinging. “Why would anyone wish for me to forget you?”

“Dorian… I’d like to say a couple of things. As a hypothesis. Would you just… would you tell me what you think? What you feel? Even if it seems like nothing?”

“…now?”

“I don’t have to.”

“No, I-“ Dorian blinked. “Alright. Yes. So long as you stay with me.”

Rilienus watched him. That same steady gaze that had followed him since Carastes. Filled with laughter, sometimes. Concern. Hunger. Ire. He smoothed his thumb over Dorian’s cheek. “…Apricots.”

“I remember eating them on a rooftop in Qarinus in the moonlight, licking juice from your fingertips.” He hadn’t realized until he said the words, but the vision returned to him as though he was watching it happen. “I feel…” It was the last night before Rilienus left for Rivain. “Bittersweet. I wasn’t sure things would be the same when we both returned.”

“They weren’t,” Rilienus mused quietly, then, “Ernesto.”

Dorian pressed his lips together. “That name doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“No?” Rilienus’ brow furrowed. “Davan?”

“I’ve a cousin named Davan. Second-cousin. On my mother’s side?”

“Right.” A familiar hum rolled behind Rilienus’ teeth. “The nug farmer.”

“I don’t know if I’d call him a farmer, per se. An enthusiast? I’ve never understood the fascination.”

“Everyone has their particular fascinations,” Rilienus murmured, still petting his cheek. “Jules Abrexis.”

“…the second son of Magister Abrexis.” Dorian tilted his head to the side. “Are you going to have me recite his lineage?”

Rilienus watched and watched and watched. He exhaled slowly, glancing down. “…no.” He cleared his throat. “No. I’m certain you know it as well as my own.”

“I do.” Dorian studied him curiously. “How did your hypothesis fare?”

Rilienus took his hand. “Let’s see.” He nodded to a tapestry on the wall and drew it aside, revealing a wide door. “Do you trust me?”

“With everything.” Dorian followed him, leaning against his shoulder.

“I am with you,” Rilienus told him, a warm weight against his side. “You’ve… If you feel as though the walls are falling, I’m here. Alright?”

“Yes.” Dorian squeezed his hand gingerly. “I’m ready.”

[midnightprelude]

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.”

[midnightprelude]

Major Arcana: Priestess

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

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CW: conversion therapy (aftermath); successful blood magic ritual; recovering from trauma

“Here you are!” The woman had bright green eyes. Not the poppy-reddened wonders Rilienus had, but the same deep green. The same dark hair curling at her temples. Auna Maecilia held out her hands to him, gauzy yellow robes flowing behind her as she crossed deep red stones to him. “Come and let me look at you.” She took Dorian’s face in her hands and turned him to each side. “You’ll do. You’re going to overheat. Come and change and I’ll get you something to drink. How do you feel about chilis and lime?”

“I feel very well about them, thank you.” Dorian smiled, wondering whether Rilienus’ carriage had been delayed. The house they crossed towards was modest by the extravagant standards of the Alti, but the Maecilia orchards stretched out as far as the eyes could see. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, my lady. I’ve heard nothing but praise for you from your son.”

“Nothing at all? What dull conversations those must be.” She tucked his arm through her own. “A little bird told me that you were asking my husband permission for something.”

“Chatty little bird,” Dorian mumbled, accepting her arm gratefully. Warm and welcoming, where his own mother had never been anything but cold. Dorian was Aquinea Pavus’ duty, where Rilienus was Auna Maecilia’s joy. “Yes, I had hoped to speak with you both before he arrived. Do you happen to have an update on his schedule?”

“I do indeed. I have tasked him and Marius with a great many little errands. As many as I could think of, really. I wanted you to myself. I imagine they will do their best, although I’m not sure where they will find the yellow peacock feathers. We shall see.” She led him through an open arched door. “You’re about the size of my son, I think. We have a rule about not bringing the Senate into the orchards, so-“ Auna stopped by a door detailed with runes and carvings. “Why don’t you change into something less stifling of his while I make drinks and we’ll take a walk.”

Devious woman, he thought, even as he let himself into the room. Medals from Carastes hung on the walls beside wood and metal carvings and a variety of half-finished projects. A worn stuffed snake missing one eye was coiled beside the pillows on the bed. Books and scrolls arranged neatly on every shelf  and cluttering the desk by the window. A harp tucked into a corner. Rilienus’ childhood room. 

He touched the outstretched arm of a male figurine in the middle of an acrobatic leap, suspended over a trio of crystals. He found a basket full of fabric scraps and rolls of thread in the bottom of the wardrobe. He knew the sewing baskets well. They tended to appear anywhere Rilienus spent more than a few days. He thumbed the tawny velvet that looked like leather from some angles and learned that this had been where Rilienus had made his robes for their picnic in the sunflower field, though the man had studiously and vigorously complained about the riding portion of the journey and insisted on a coach for the ride back to the city. 

Dorian pulled a draped green chiton from the wardrobe and turned just as he heard footsteps returning down the hall. Auna held out a glass to him, damp with cool condensation. 

“…the snake?” he asked, taking it. 

“He insisted he wanted a cobra the year before he went to Carastes, so I taught him to make one himself.” Auna gazed affectionately at the messy stitching and worn cloth, patches meant to look like scales. “A fair warning to you. It seems as though Plini will be asking for a swan sometime soon. Perhaps he can make his own. Swans are beastly creatures. Now the little rabbit that Isobel is pining for? That, you might wish to consider. Rilly does abhor things out of place, but you’ll need to get used to that with children anyway. They do what they do. Come along.”

Children-

Dorian followed her down the hallway, breathing in the scent of ripe plums. 

Rilienus was a father. They both were. Images of the twins’ tiny feet flooded back to him. The orphaned twins Rilienus had rescued in Marothius, grown from wailing, undersized toddlers to healthy, chattering children. 

His children. His husband. His family. How had they been so tightly hidden from him?

“We had a flock of peacocks,” Dorian hurried to catch up with her, having stopped in his tracks. “Terrible things. I’d rather he ask for a reptile; I’ve never had any problems with serpents.”

“No? Remind me to tell you about Marius’ miniature crocodile and the way it ate Rilly’s favorite blanket when he was a babe. Poor thing wailed for three days. The crocodile was very gassy.” She tucked his arm through her own again as they stepped out into the baking sun, walking across moss towards the shade of the fruit trees. “I’m glad we are in agreement about the bird. You have my full support in denying my son and yours any sort of feathered menace. He tried to convince your father and I that geese were better guards than mabari. The wretch. When were you thinking of the ceremony?”

Dorian lifted his brows. “How long have you known?”

Auna smiled up at him beatifically. “Oh, darling, I’ve known my son was in love with you for years. Half his letters from Rivain were asking his father to check in on you. Gracious. And if he loved you like that, I really couldn’t imagine you were all that far behind.” She touched his cheek. “It is nice to finally have you both home.”

Home. Home among the flowering trees and winding vineyards. His husband and his children’s favorite place in the world. It was nice to be there, with them, speaking of things he’d always thought impossible to say aloud. “In the fall,” Dorian murmured, ducking his head. “Here. At sunset, when the leaves have changed shade to match.”

Auna cooed quietly, patting his shoulder. “You know my son very well. Of course. Whatever the two of you like. How- Oh, I suppose you’ll want to ask your question. Come on then so we can get on to the fun things. Marius and I are of the same mind anyway.”

“-now?” Dorian balked slightly.

“Mmhmm.” She was serene, her round cheeks lifted in an expectant smile. “We don’t have all day. Maecilia men are very good problem solvers.”

That he knew well enough. Dorian exhaled, collecting himself, trying to recall the words he’d practiced, but finding them insufficient. “I wished to ask for your blessing. I know ours is a highly unconventional union, but I’d like to make my promises to him under the Maker’s light. I believe we’ve both had quite enough lurking in the shadows.”

“And you will take the twins as your own.” Auna tilted her head making the statement a question.

“If they would have me, yes. They would be ours.”

“And more?” she wondered quietly. “Or will that be all?”

“They will be named as my heirs, should I be given my father’s seat and titles.”

“Hm.” Rilienus’ mother studied him, warmth in her eyes. “And you love my son?”

“More than I ever knew to hope for,” Dorian whispered. “For almost as long as I’ve known him.”

“Well.” She sighed with a little bob of her head. “Who knew I’d be having another son, and me a grandmother already!” She winked, pinching Dorian’s cheek gently. “Please marry the boy. He’s obscenely in love with you. Now. Let’s pick some cherries.”

[midnightprelude]

Major Arcana: Chariot, Reversed

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

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CW: mention of solitary confinement; conversion therapy (aftermath); successful blood magic ritual; recovering from trauma

Rilienus surfaced, lungs burning. Not again. He couldn’t watch them lock Dorian away again. He couldn’t listen to him crying alone in the preparation hermitage. A child. He shouldn’t have been in Carastes or they should have held him carefully in their hands, like an egg, until he was ready to be on his own. Not strong enough. Dorian had always been strong. Perhaps too strong. But wise enough. Experienced enough. 

Rilienus pressed his thumbs to his temples to fight the steady ache behind his eyes. His tongue felt thick and cottony, tasting of Veil Thorn, the sharp scent of lyrium caught in the back of his nose. 

Look, he told himself. Look. Check. He had to check. He had to- 

He collected the pillow from the chaise and pressed it to his mouth to muffle his sobs until they finally slowed. The air cut at his throat. The dim light from the nearly guttered candles burned his eyes.

He knew there had to be a reason Dorian kept returning to some of these memories. Punishments. Success and failure. That Dorian was even dredging these up again when he was so reluctant to speak of the experiences had to mean he was still there. Still fighting. Still trying to make sense of- 

Rilienus carefully rubbed his eyes as the candles finally burned themselves out, feeling a great empathy with the blackened wicks, and gazed at the figure on the bed. 

Dorian. Wild, winsome Dorian with his sharp smiles and clever eyes. The smile was gone. The eyes were blank and unseeing. Surrounded by pearls and opals and black diamonds. Protection. Concealment. Healing. A circle around him. Stones and runes drawn in blood and gem dust across his skin and down the line of his chakras. 

His beard was steadily overtaking the careful shave Dorian had always kept. There was too much to be done already to keep up with it. Too much and somehow not enough. 

Even before the real work, there were the spells to keep his body healthy and the wards to check and reinforce. There were the regular intervals he needed to rouse and smooth salves over Dorian’s cracked lips, to turn him, to bathe him. To keep him dreaming. 

If he woke before the work was done… If he woke, Dorian would probably kill him, he admitted to himself. He’d denied it for weeks but now, in the dark and the quiet, alone where no one could see him fall apart… 

Steel where there had been silver. The crackle of power around him like a cloak. His beautiful face hard and unfeeling. How many times had they spoken, laughing, of marble sculptures of themselves? He’d never thought of how harrowing it would be to see a hot heart turned to stone. 

But it had. 

Dorian had been there, alive, moving, dressing himself and riding his horse and casting with precision - and yet everything that had made him Dorian had been… absent. And that endless well of power without the accompanying well of empathy and humor and care…

Rilienus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It wouldn’t do to think of what would happen if he failed. He could not. His own beating heart lived inside Dorian. To quell one of them would end them both. 

So he ate mechanically. He carefully cut his arm and used droplets of the blood to reinforce the spells on the stones and the gems. He applied the salves. He emptied the candlesticks and cleaned them and replaced them with fresh beeswax. 

He stretched, carefully, muscles screaming with atrophy. He wanted to crawl onto the bed and curl into Dorian’s arms and sleep. Just sleep and pretend that everything was as it had been. That they were well and safe and happy again, fat on cherries and peaches, listening to the twins in the parlor as they played Templars and Mages. 

Rilienus scrubbed his hands through his hair.

“You’re up.”

He kept his face against his knees, fighting to keep his breaths even as he heard his mother step inside and close the door behind her. 

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes.” His voice sounded like scorched damask looked. 

Her fingers were cool and gentle. The back of his neck. His forehead. His arm. She hissed quietly. “Let me bandage this for you at least.”

He did because he didn’t have the will to insist on doing it himself anymore. There was too much to do already. Far too much. 

“Rilly,” she murmured, rubbing his back in soothing circles. 

“I can’t.” He exhaled, too tired. 

“You can’t what, love?”

“I can’t leave him like this. I can’t give up. I can’t-“

“I know,” she kissed his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him. “I know. Come outside, just for a little while. Plini is getting quite good at the flute. Some sunshine and music will strengthen you.”

“What if-“

“Come outside,” she repeated a little more firmly. “He will be here when you return.”

[midnightprelude]

Major Arcana: Hermit, Reversed

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

Masterpost | First | Previous | Next

CW: conversion therapy (aftermath); mention of solitary confinement; successful blood magic ritual; recovering from trauma; adopted children; sexual dysfunction; corporal punishment; strict/terrible parenting

Dorian heard the click of sandals on paving stones as they approached the Carastes preparation hermitage. He had begun to mark his days by their arrival: the slap and crush of the shoes, the clatter of the plate holding his daily bread and cheese, the sluice of his jug of water being replaced.

This morning, there were two sets of sandals approaching, when there had only ever been one.

Dorian rubbed the sleep and tears from his eyes, quickly making his bed and adjusting his robes, waiting for the knock.

Instead, his father swept into the room like a summer storm, hardened steel flashing in his eyes when they met Dorian’s.

“Come,” Halward insisted, so Dorian did, as wordless as the Magister’s shadow. They walked down the long marble hall, high white arches above catching and reflecting the sun to warm them, only Dorian didn’t feel warm as he followed his father through the front gates and into the waiting carriage. 

Silence. 

Dorian glanced up to study the stern profile of his father’s face, seeking his gaze and finding it resolutely turned from him. “…Pater?” he whispered.

“Do not speak to me.”

The words were almost a relief from the oppressive silence, but any solace he took from his father’s voice was short-lived. There was anger in his tone, but more than that, a familiar dismissiveness he’d never heard aimed towards himself. His mother, the servants, but never him. 

As though he were less than the boy who’d been so excited to go to Carastes a few short months ago. As though he were less than a boy at all.

“Why this memory?” Dorian asked Rilienus, at once the boy stepping into the carriage and the man reliving the past, studying it for clues. “Why this moment?” 

“I didn’t choose this,” Rilienus murmured. “You selected the door. You opened it. I am only facilitating your awareness and looking for threads, nothing more. Why do you think we’re here?”

“I don’t know.” Dorian frowned, watching the tiny version of himself stare forlornly out the window, trying to take up as little space in the carriage as possible. His father wouldn’t look at him, even when the door closed behind them and the dracolisks began to move, carting them back towards Qarinus. He remembered trying to count the trees they passed to distract himself from the tightness in his throat. He looked so small on the seat by himself. 

“Pater?” Young Dorian asked again softly, an hour into their journey, his eyes shining and hopeful at once. “I should not have failed you.”

“That goes without saying.” Halward still did not look at him.

“…did Bruto leave the infirmary?” Time and solitude had replaced Dorian’s anger with guilt. “I didn’t-“ He caught himself, about to lie. “No. I did. I wanted to hurt him. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“I do not care if you wanted to hurt him. I do not care that you did. That you would jeopardize my work and our name-“ His jaw ticked. Once. Twice. Again. Again. “Failure is too inadequate a word.”

Dorian’s heart sank in his chest all over again, crushed by the weight of his father’s disappointment. 

“I’m sorry, Pater,” young Dorian dipped his chin, sniffing. “I won’t do it again.”

Another lie, Dorian knew, even if this version didn’t just yet.

“You cannot. The damage has been done, irrevocably.” Halward hissed between his teeth. “You are not what I thought you could be. That was my mistake.”

He was. A mistake. An abomination. A problem to be hidden away.

“Pater-“ Dorian whispered, biting his lip to try in vain to stop his tears from sliding down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“What good does that do me?” Halward asked, finally glancing in his direction. “Tell me. What does your being sorry do for this family?”

“…nothing, I-“ Dorian winced, then nodded. “Nothing. It does nothing.”

“So what will you do, Dorian? Because your incompetence and self-pitying mean nothing. How will you correct your mistake?”

Dorian considered the question as best he could, his vision blurring. “I’ll be perfect, Pater. I’ll never give anyone reason to question me again.”

A third lie, but an earnest one. An impossible promise to keep. 

“Perfect.” Halward looked down his nose at him, a frown curving his lips. At least it was something. Living. More than stone. “I very much doubt it, Dorian, but you are welcome to prove me wrong.”

“I will, Pater.” Dorian met his eyes, young enough to make empty promises while believing them wholeheartedly. “I’ll show you and everyone else. You’ll see. I’ll make you proud of me again.”

“I pray that you do,” Halward told him solemnly. “Because, unfortunately,” he continued, the frown deepening, “you are all we have.”

Dorian turned to Rilienus as the vision faded, clinging to him like he might disappear.

“This is my memory?” Dorian asked softly, meeting his gaze as the room turned into ruby velvets and comfortable cushions. “Was he really that cruel?”

“…it is not for me to say. Is that what you think?” Careful. He was so careful, his gaze flitting away like a hummingbird.

“If anyone spoke like that to Plini, I would end them,” Dorian murmured, biting his lip. “Rilienus?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Why aren’t you looking at me?”

“Ah.” Rilienus took his hand. “I would also end them,” he agreed firmly. “I dislike seeing someone I love treated in such a manner. What would you have me say?”

“Nothing.” Dorian squeezed his fingers. “That you’re here is enough.”

“It isn’t. And yet, I cannot go back in time to save you-“ Rilienus studied at their hands as though seeking to memorize the shapes. “To save you from anything. Though.” He glanced up. “You did keep your promise.”

“…to not disappoint him?” Dorian lifted his brows. “I did that regularly.”

“To be perfect.” Rilienus met his gaze, a flickering smile, a wisp of one, on his lips. “You are. For me. Every moment.”

Dorian laughed, a weak, wet sound, holding him close. “You’re indecently biased. I adore you for it.”

“Good. You should adore me for a plethora of reasons.” He hugged him gently, glancing towards the wrought iron door that didn’t belong in the room. “That’s a new one. Do you want to go through it?”

“…I-“ Dorian felt pulled in the opposite direction, away from it as though drawn by gravity. “No. But I believe that means I should.”

“I am with you.” Rilienus grimaced, wrapping an arm around his waist. “You can always wake up. If it’s too much, just say the word.”

Dorian nodded, solemnly, then pushed open the creaking, vine covered gate.

The scent of sulfur and the sharp crack marked the arc of the firelash, providing a few seconds of warning before the blow landed. Seventeen strikes. More than last time. Prefect Reynald had told him that a boy had died from twelve, once, but Reynald was a spiteful pissant.

Sulfur. Crack.

Searing pain down his back, the wound cauterizing instantly. Heat radiating from each injury, melding together until his skin was one screaming stretch of mangled mess. Of course, the healers would see to his wounds, prevent his scarring. They would not dull the pain.

His third major infraction in as many months at the Order of Argent, the clever little Void-damned place his father had sent him as retribution for being indiscreet about his indiscretions. A part of him wondered if Halward wouldn’t be pleased if he died here, another charred stain on his perfect reputation to be swept away.

He would not give his father the satisfaction of having won. He would not. He would escape this fortress and- well, at least find a more pleasant hole to die in.

Sulfur. Crack.

His palms were bloody from where they were pressed into the stones. His nose was bloody from where his face had hit the ground. Everything was blood and burning and unbridled rage. If he could tear down these walls, stone by stone, he would. Raze it to the ground, leaving nothing but ghosts.

As it was, he endured, losing count somewhere after ten, going dizzy not long after, until finally the crowd dispersed and he was asked to stand.

Stand.

Every movement was agony, but he bit his lip, as he always had, and winced through the pain.

Even still, his fathers’ words echoed in his mind.

A Pavus is not weak. A Pavus does not fail. A Pavus does not fear.

“You will attend the Father during the Chant tonight and tomorrow morning,” the Praetor informed him coolly. “You will clean the Chantry hall between prayers. If you can manage those tasks without further disgracing yourself, you may visit the clinic. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” He could barely walk; scrubbing the floors would be agony. And the bloody Father was handsy under the best of circumstances. “I understand.”

The Praetor studied him. “Ah. Just one thing.” He snapped his fingers and a pair of flimsy papers swept to Dorian’s knees, neatly binding themselves in place. “Keep those clean, won’t you, Lord Pavus? The healer will check when you visit.”

What. The. Fuck.

He wanted to scream, but merely nodded, too tired to argue anymore. He’d get out of here, soon, and then he’d be free of this place, his father, and the weight of his own bloody name.

The world seemed to dim and flip, darken and blur. He barely remembered how he’d moved through the hours. Slowly. One step and then another. The Chants blending one into another with the smell of vinegar and tallow. He remembered the walk to the healing room in the morning, step by staggering step. 

He remembered standing outside the door and meeting Prefect Reynald’s dark hazel gaze as the older boy dusted soil over each of the papers. “Looks like someone needs to visit the Praetor for further instructions.” 

“Why.” Dorian stared at him, unblinking. “I hope you enjoy this temporary power you wield. When you graduate, you will be nothing once more.”

“You already are nothing.” Reynald smiled toothily, a rather grotesque sight. “I can do anything I want to you and no one will lift a finger.”

Less than a man. 

Less than the dirt upon which he stood.

He was still Halward Pavus’ only son, though. Surely, he wouldn’t let them kill Dorian. Surely he cared at least that much. 

To mold him, to change him, to temper him until he emerged from the flames as strong as steel. But not to kill him. That would destroy the only thing Halward had ever cared about, too: his legacy.

Dorian blinked, the sound fading away from the scene as nineteen year-old Dorian traded barbs with the prefect, then the Praetor.

To change him.

To make him into his father’s exact vision.

He thought of the chessboard on the seaside and the way Halward had smiled. Actually smiled at him. Touched him and smiled. Pride. Pride that he never saw again flash through his father’s eyes. Not during his marking exams. Not during any debate. Not when he finally joined the Minrathous Circle. 

Disappointment. Dismissal. A barely tolerated nuisance.

“My father,” Dorian said softly, staring at the scene. “My father made me this way.”

Another door appeared, this one pure stone, etched with runes. No discernible opening existed.

Rilienus drew him from the memory and into his arms. “Dorian,” he whispered, holding him fast. And Dorian knew his voice. He knew the sound of Rilienus’ sorrow and his fury and his love. He heard all of them. He heard his lover’s agreement and the ache of it.

The pain of the lashes and the exhaustion abated as they stood in the courtyard together, Rilienus wrapped around him like a blanket. 

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Dorian asked softly. “The answer you didn’t wish to burden me with?”

“I-“ Rilienus faltered, his chin hooking over Dorian’s shoulder. “You know. This kind of work… You had to have been present, witnessed it. I didn’t want to spill my suspicions- Memory is so… fragile.”

“I am not.”

“I know that,” he murmured, sighing. 

“I want to go through that door,” Dorian said, his voice stronger than he felt. “I need to see what he was willing to do to get what he wanted from me.”

Rilienus took a deep breath, his chest pressing to Dorian’s back on the inhale, somehow fortifying them both. “Then we’ll see.” 

[midnightprelude]

Major Arcana: Tower

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

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CW: Blight sickness; conversion therapy (aftermath); successful blood magic ritual; recovering from trauma

Dorian nudged the door to Felix’s chambers open with his hip, holding the heavy tray of foul-smelling tea out in front of him. The room was scorching, even hotter than the Tevinter summer sun beating down on Asariel, to try and ward off the chill that threatened to consume the heir to House Alexius.

“Felix, your father sent me up with your afternoon tea,” Dorian called, already starting to sweat. “I nicked a few of those cinnamon cookies from the kitchen to go with it.”

He was pale and thin, shivering in the baking space, rocking in a nest of blankets and multi-layered robes. Felix lifted his gaze miserably. “The healer said no sugar.” The once dulcet tones had turned to sand in his throat. He held his hand out. “Nevermind. I can’t possibly get worse. Thank you.” He ran his hand through sweat-damp hair and came away with a few dark strands caught in his fingers. He winced and brushed them off hurriedly. “Not long, I think.” He said that every day now. “I was thinking- maybe instead of a choir, just a collection of the loudest drums you can muster? A cacophony. It would be fun to go out in a cacophony.”

“Yes?” Gereon hated to hear him talk like this. He’d grow sullen for days, not saying more than a few syllables to Dorian at a time. Felix had been planning his funeral for nearly two years.

“Rilienus says they play drums at all the funerals in Rivain. Some of them are as big as a house, he says.”

Rilienus. Rilienus Maecilia. An heir in his own right, studying in Rivain. Why did that-

“We could go there, if you like,” Dorian offered, even though it’d involve travel by sea, which neither of them particularly fancied. “Would you? It’s warmer, I’ve heard. Sweltering, even. We could meet his mentor.”

Why would they? What business did they have with anyone else when Felix was wasting away?

“No,” Felix shook his head, wincing as he swallowed down a gulp of steaming tea. “No. I want to stay here, where I know I’ll be able to see the Nocen. I wouldn’t mind hearing some more of Rilienus’ stories, though. Do you think he’d eschew his harp for a set of drums for me?”

Sound like liquid starlight, eyes closed in concentration. He could almost hear a melody on the wind, if he strained.

“I think he would, with some cajoling,” Dorian murmured, lowering down to sit at Felix’s bedside. “Your father thinks we’re getting closer,” he admitted softly. “I’ve my doubts.”

“He needs to think that.” Felix frowned, looking down. “Can you ask Rilienus to come back? I’d like to see him before… And I think Father will need the support. You shouldn’t have to shoulder it alone.”

Alone. When had he been anything but alone? There was a buzzing between his ears, the tightness in his stomach returning.

“I’ll ask,” Dorian said with a slight smile, patting Felix’s slender leg gingerly. “I know you appreciate his company, especially when we’re working.”

Felix nibbled on the cookie, leaning back against his pillow. “I wanted to be your best man. I was looking forward to it. Maybe you can get Maevaris to read my speech for me?” 

“My-“ His voice faded, replaced by a crashing dissonance. Dorian clutched his ears, keeling over onto his knees, screaming as the sound threatened to tear him apart. The walls quaked, dust filling the air and his lungs as they crumbled. “Don’t make me go!” He shouted into the void, the floor falling out from under him, tears carving rivers through the dirt that collected on his cheeks. “Felix, don’t-“

Strong, steady arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. The man they belonged to smelled of ink and parchment, of nights reading by firelight and mornings lazing in the sun. Dorian could hear the plucking of strings faintly in the distance, ethereal and full of sorrow.

“Rilienus,” Dorian whispered, without withdrawing. He didn’t need to. He knew that scent, the feel of those hands, as well as he knew his own name. “Rilienus, where- What is happening to me?”

“We’re getting there, Dorian.” His breath was warm against the back of Dorian’s ear. “I hadn’t even thought of Felix. That’s new. New is good.” 

“I don’t know what’s going on.” Dorian leaned against him, relying on his strength. “Why is everything so muddled?”

“…I’m not sure. I have theories. You have walls as steep as the southern Steppes around that. But I can tell you this: you’ve been lost and this is the first you’re hearing me, hearing my name, in a long time. We’re going to find out together, love.”

Love. His love. Words as solid as marble, truth etched in stone. Dorian felt as though he might crumble in Rilienus’ arms. “We were- Felix said he meant to be my best man.” He pressed his cheek to Rilienus’ shoulder. “We meant to marry. Did we not?”

“Two months ago. You were missing. I found you.” Rilienus said each sentence slowly, holding him, invisible while Felix laughed and smiled and planned his funeral silently in a fading room. “I will find you again. I always will. Do you believe me?”

“I don’t know what to believe,” Dorian said the word in an aching gasp, clinging to Rilienus as though he were the last rope mooring him to reality. “I believe you, though. I don’t- I don’t entirely remember why I do, but I do. I’m- you must hate me for forgetting.”

“No. I hate this spell. You’ve always been quicker at taking apart these kinds of things than I am.” His words were a tumble, his heartbeat ricocheted against Dorian’s back. “I have missed you, my dawn light.”

“…months, you said?” Dorian whispered, afraid of the answer. “Where- My memories. What’s- A spell?”

“A very thorough spell. Rishiri Arcana style. It’s… heavy. And complicated. A labyrinth with a lot of doors. We’ve been through several of the same ones, but you’re starting to find your way. I tried pressing through the walls, but you started screaming-“ He took a slow breath as his voice thickened. “It’s your mind. Your precious mind. Your wondrous heart. I can’t take risks with either.”

“Rishiri Arcana…” Dorian closed his eyes, searching- “Blood magic? On my mind. To change my memories. To- What end could that possibly serve?” 

“I could tell you what I think,” Rilienus murmured. “But you’re having enough trouble with what you know.”

A horrible thought occurred to him and he cupped Rilienus’ cheeks. “Will I forget you again?”

“It’s alright if you do. I’ll be here when you remember.” Hands covered his own and he could see bright green again, soft and warm and loving him. “He’s here, you know. With my mother. Bald, but it suits him. He’s here.”

“Felix?” Dorian murmured, holding his face as though it were the most precious thing in the world. It was, he knew, the knowledge from somewhere deep and slumbering. “He’s alive? Can I see him?”

Rilienus hesitated, thumbing his cheek. “When you come back, yes.” 

“My memories,” Dorian said softly. This wasn’t real. Or it had been, once. “Right. Can you guide me towards one I’ve forgotten?”

Rilienus nodded slowly. “I wasn’t there. But I’ll be with you, even if you don’t see me. Maybe it will guide you towards something I don’t know about.” He kissed his cheek gently. “You’re ready?”

[midnightprelude]

Major Arcana: Justice

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

Masterpost | First | Previous | Next

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

The sound of the portal opening in the courtyard was like a clap of thunder, shaking the walls and shaking the manor’s denizens. Rilienus was huddled on a chaise, his first foray into the sunshine in days, and the light had been stinging his eyes. He was tired. His father was, too; he knew just by looking at him. They were, he thought grimly, looking far worse for wear than Felix and that was an accomplishment. Rilienus still couldn’t quite taste anything yet and swallowing anything remotely cool felt like blades of glass cutting up the inside of his neck, so he swallowed mouthfuls of kava and tea praying for the heat to salve the ache and tried not to notice the worried glances Dorian and his mother shared. 

But the portal. 

No one should have been able to open the portal. No one outside of their family. No one but-

“You.”

Flowing robes as radiant as the sunset and a broad gilded helm with cloth of gold streaming over his shoulders. Radonis. 

Fuck.

Rilienus tried to stand up, wincing. “Your radiance,” he croaked.

“You,” Radonis pointed at him, stalking across the courtyard. “You are supposed to solve problems. Not bring them to me unfinished and then disappear- Maker’s breath, you look as though you’ve been poisoned with kaddish powder.” He paused. “…have you?”

Rilienus winced. “I’m afraid so.” He cleared his throat. “And my father.”

Marius gave a weak wave from where he had given up trying to stand. “Your radiance.”

“My mother, Auna. My fiancé, Dorian.” Rilienus grimaced. “Mother- could you… that probably woke the twins.”

She glanced between him and the Archon, waiting until he waved a hand before she dipped a curtsy and headed off towards the children’s room. 

“Your radiance,” Dorian said, dropping into a low bow. “Our sincerest apologies for not anticipating your arrival. I would be happy to fetch anything you require-“

“Water,” Radonis removed his helm, resting it on his lap as he took a seat across from Rilienus. “That will be all.”

Dorian glanced at Rilienus, frowning, then followed Auna back into the manor.

“Halward Pavus was arrested at his home in Qarinus and brought to Minrathous for questioning and, eventually, a trial. We have yet to locate the blood mage.” Radonis’ face was 

locked in an almost perpetual frown. Rilienus had only seen him smile when one of his many cats was nearby. “It has been a very, very long time since I’ve seen evidence of a pool of power that large that didn’t result in abject failure.”

“Not abject failure,” Marius corrected, “but my son managed to reverse some of the effects of the spell.”

“That is… reassuring.” Radonis nodded, studying him. “Infighting between the great houses during broad daylight- You can understand my irritation, I’m sure.”

“I understand it and share it.” Rilienus curled his fingers around the clay mug of hot tea, feeling the warmth pour in from all sides. The sunshine. The water. They’d arrested him. Caught him. Gods, Dorian- “They're quite sure they’ve actually collected him and not one of his seemings?”

“I was assured the appropriate tests for simulacra and illusion were conducted. Yes. He went quietly with the Templars. Only a handful of people know and of them, only you and I are aware of the entire story.”

“I have no intention of making the scenario public, your radiance,” Rilienus told him, the words sawing at his raw throat. “I would not bring shame to your office if I can help it.”

“Your discretion is appreciated, as always, Rilienus. Particularly as it was Halward’s request as well, in exchange for providing detailed information on the Maleficar. A quiet abdication and indefinite imprisonment.”

Abdication? He’d tried to kill Rilienus and his father and now he was willing to abdicate? Impotent fury swelled in Rilienus’ chest and caught painfully with sorrow as Dorian carried a pitcher of water and glasses from the house. Rilienus dampened his lips and reached for him once Radonis had been served. “What would you have of us, your radiance? If he’s confessed-“

“He has.” Radonis sipped casually from his glass, sighing. He reached into his pocket and handed a golden letter with a dark seal to Dorian. “I don’t normally play messenger, but in this instance, I thought it appropriate.”

Dorian frowned, taking the missive in hand, scanning the official document.

“Congratulations, Magister,” Radonis hummed, tapping his fingertips against the glass. “My office will require statements from the three of you, upon your return to Minrathous.”

Dorian blinked, reading the paper again. “There’s no way my father- He’s alive, still, is he not?”

“Oh, yes.” Radonis’ frown deepened. “Alive and revealed. I’ve known him since my ascendance-“ He trailed off with a grim shake of his head. “A full audit of the council and the senate will be required sooner rather than later, Rilienus. No more snakes in the garden, understand?”

“Yes, your radiance,”  Rilienus agreed, pressing the cup to his chest, then peered at Dorian. “What is it?”

“He kept me as his heir, even after all this.” Dorian wrinkled his nose. “I’m to take his place in the Senate.”

About fucking time was all Rilienus could think, then- still work to be done. Still weaves of the spell to untangle. He seemed improved, in parts, but there were still whole swaths of Dorian’s memories yet to be uncovered. He glanced at his own father, draped in linen blankets and cradling his own tea. What if there was something else? What other aspects of Dorian’s heart and mind had Halward sought to alter? How could they find them- return Dorian to himself- without knowing where to look? “It sounds as though you might keep your name,” Rilienus murmured, his gaze traveling over Dorian’s features, “if you want it.”

“I…” He folded the parchment and tucked it into his pocket. “Yes. It does seem like a possibility.” Dorian ducked his head. “I’m sorry for the trouble my family has caused you, your radiance.”

“Sorry? I’ve lost a counselor I’ve relied upon for years-“ Radonis’ broad bushy brows drew together in consternation. “I’ve discovered,” he amended, “that a counselor I’ve relied upon for years is unstable, not to mention false. Are you unstable, Dorian Pavus?”

“If I am, it’s only from the remnants of the spell my father ensnared me with, your radiance. I would suggest, if you’re amenable, submitting myself to a full medical and arcane examination before being allowed to make any decisions that could affect others outside of my house.” Dorian rested his hand on Rilienus’ shoulder. “We aren’t yet certain of the extent of damage it caused.”

Radonis narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Very well. I’ll send someone out.” He paused. “…you’ve attended nearly every Circle in this country.”

“I bored easily as a youth.”

“And you were under the mentorship of Gereon Alexius.”

“I was, for nearly a decade.”

“Where is he now.”

“South, outside of our borders. He left while I was… interned at my father’s house.”

Rilienus glanced between them, trying to read into Radonis’ narrowed gaze. 

“South where.”

“He was in the Free Marches, when last he wrote to his son. He didn’t say where he was headed from there.” 

Radonis watched Dorian for what felt like ages, still and studying. “You will tell me if you or young master Alexius receive word.” He rose, settling his helm onto his head and rolling his shoulders back. “An assessment and an audit. You will both present yourselves to me the moment you return to Minrathous.”

“Of course, your radiance. Your offices will be our first stop when we return to the city.” Dorian cleared his throat, glancing at Rilienus, then the Archon. “You’ll also be receiving an invitation to our wedding, within the month. I do hope you’ve time in your schedule for a bit of leisure, your excellency.”

“In Minrathous. Nihalius will ordain it. The Maker knows we need a distraction from the current mess. That will do. Good thinking.” Radonis dusted his hands together, striding to the blackened circle that his arrival had left behind. “Two months. Rilienus, schedule it,” he added, waving a hand, and cracked the air open to step into a portal. “Look less like the living dead by then. This isn’t Nevarra.” 

It snapped shut behind him with a sizzle.

“A marriage ordained by the Divine himself,” Marius croaked, sitting up slightly. “Well done, my boy. Or should I say, Magister.”

“Not until I’ve been cleared,” Dorian murmured. 

“I’ll get back to it,” Rilienus assured him, squeezing his hand. “As soon as I’m able.”

“You’ll rest,” Dorian lowered himself to sit beside him, easing Rilienus’ head into his lap. 

It wasn’t what they’d wished for. It wasn’t what they’d planned. The simple ceremony with their friends and family in the orchard at sunset. The quiet joy. But it was… something. Spectacle, yes. Distraction. But also acknowledgement. 

Why had Radonis been asking about Alexius? What did he want with Dorian? 

“I’ll rest,” he agreed quietly, settling into the sensation of Dorian’s fingers through his hair. “And then we’ll finish bringing you home.”

[midnightprelude]

Major Arcana: Temperance, Reversed

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

Masterpost | First | Previous | Next

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

Rilienus’ tongue felt like a lemon peel, sour and oddly rippled and too thick for his mouth. Breathing hurt. He flexed his hands and found they tingled delicately in response, tiny needles gouging his fingertips. 

“There you are.” Baergeson, the Nevarran who had been helping with Felix’s potions and various ministrations, peered down at him through his thick lenses. “That was a nasty bit of work you had coursing through your system.”

“Rilienus?” Dorian roused from the chair next to the bed, his hair flat against the side of his head as though he’d been sleeping there. “Thank the Maker.” In a rush, he was kneeling at Rilienus’ side. “Your father woke up earlier this morning.”

“Hm.” Rilienus coughed weakly, easing up onto his elbows. “You- You’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Just worried.” He brushed sweat-damp curls back from Rilienus’ forehead. “Marius said you found him at the Senate? What were you doing in Minrathous?”

“Brought… evidence to Radonis.” He stretched his jaw tentatively. “Plini? Bella? Mada?”

“All safe. All well.” Dorian kissed his chin. “You both tumbled out of a correspondence portal in the study. Radonis. So you found what you needed?”

He nodded hesitantly. “I… It was important that it- He shouldn’t be on the council, with what- I had to bring it to the Archon. Can you understand?”

“You nearly died.” Dorian frowned, studying him. “In and out, you said. Nobody would know, you said.”

“Yes. Well.” He grimaced. “I saw your father.”

“You-“ Dorian hissed. “So that’s what happened.”

“I asked him to go peacefully. He was, as evidenced, disinterested.” He stretched his jaw again. “I should have waited. I- I was so- I wasn’t thinking.”

“You both could have died, Ril.” Dorian grimaced. “You’d have left Plini and Bella without a father. You’d have left me- I don’t know what to do without you. Do you understand?”

“I wasn’t thinking,” he repeated grimly. “I’m sorry. What do you want me to say? I saw him and it was all red and burning.”

“What did he say? What did you say to him?”

Rilienus closed his eyes. “He said you were missing. He said there were rumors I’d attacked you and then you’d gone missing.” How to tell this man that his father hadn’t seemed the least bit guilty nor regretful? How to tell him- “He said I didn’t understand sacrifice. I told him what I knew of sacrifice. I told him he could come with me to the Archon and seek mercy.”

“…and he did not.” Dorian dipped his chin. “A Pavus never fails.”

“He did.” Rilienus grasped Dorian’s chin, lifting it. “He did. I’m alive. You’re breaking free of his chains. He failed his plots. He failed you. Fuck him.”

“I wish he’d have gone with you,” Dorian admitted softly.

That. That goddamned heart. Too soft, Halward had said. Maybe it was. Too soft. Too full. Too strong. But that was part of him. That was part of what made Dorian quintessentially Dorian. Part of what made him think the way he did. Made him brilliant. Made him daring and impulsive. Made him powerful. “It would have been much less painful,” Rilienus agreed, bowing his head to rest on Dorian’s shoulder. “I want to see the kids.”

“I thought you would.” Dorian hugged him, rising to his feet. “I’ll go fetch them, shall I?”

Rilienus nodded slowly. “Pater- He’s… You said he was awake.”

“Yes. With a headache, but awake. Your mother made him eat a salad.”

“Salads heal everything.” Rilienus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Was it- Was it the same poison? Did we get- a sample? I need to add it to the evidence-“

“Ril. I don’t care about evidence.” He cupped Rilienus’ cheeks. “I care about you.”

“And I care about you. Which means I care about evidence. To keep you safe. To keep us all safe.” He brushed his lips against Dorian’s. “I need to write to Radonis. I need- Baergeson?”

“There may be some left from mixing the antitoxin. I’ll cork it for you.”

“Thank you.”

Dorian quirked his finger and parchment flew through the air, a quill and ink floating to rest on the side table next to him. “I’ll bring Plini and Bella. Do you need anything else, love?”

“You and a thousand gallons of apricot wine.” He caught Dorian’s hand and squeezed it. “You are exquisite and extraordinary. And mine. You’re very much mine.”

“I am,” Dorian agreed softly, a smile blooming across his face. “I’ll be back shortly.”

He took advantage of the time and silence to scratch out a weary note explaining his absence to Radonis: the timing and reasoning and perpetrator. It had to be done. He rolled the letter carefully and slipped it into the pocket that connected directly to Radonis’ vault. Just in case.

Plini launched himself across the room as soon as they returned, cuddling up against Rilienus’ side. “Papa. We went to see the honeybees today.”

“Did you?” Rilienus gathered him into his arms, resting his chin on the boy’s head. “I take it you enjoyed yourself. Did your pater show you the combs?” 

“He did! He showed us all inside the bee houses! There were so many! And Pater said that we call the main bee the Archon even though she’s a lady.”

“We do, indeed.” Rilienus kissed the top of his head. Light and wonder. Shy and sturdy. His son. The thought that he could ever look at Plini and want him to be anything other than the fantastical creature that he was, that he was becoming, was anathema. “Did your pater tell you that the first time he told me he loved me was over honeycomb?”

“Really?” Plini poked his cheeks, as though he were examining him. Bella stood with Dorian in the doorway, her hair in a messy braid, a leaf stuck to her cheek.  

“Really, really.” He held out a hand. “Bella? Did you have fun with the bees?”

“They have fuzzy, round bums.” She giggled, crossing over to him and joining her brother on the bed, her sticky fingers leaving stains on the sheets. 

“They do.” He squeezed her to his side. His. Two years ago, they’d been strangers. Now he couldn’t imagine a world without them. They were his. It didn’t matter a whit that they didn’t share his blood. What was blood in the face of love? Rilienus carefully plucked the leaf from her cheek. “You’re turning into a tree.”

“Like a dryad from the stories?” Her dark eyes lit with excitement. “Plin can already play the pipes like a goat-man.”

“Mmhmm.” Rilienus looked over her head at Dorian. His home. His family. “A dryad, a satyr, and a will’o’the’wisp. My triumvirate of forest sprites.”

“I’ll be back with your wine,” Dorian winked, as handsome as ever. He’d shaven away the beard in Rilienus’ absence, returning to his familiar curved mustache. “And some cinnamon cookies.”

“You spoil me.” He paused. “…you didn’t bake them, did you?”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Your mother did.”

“Oh.” Relief. He met Dorian’s gaze with a little half smile, pillowing his cheek atop Isobel’s head. “Extraordinary,” he repeated. “Exhilarating.”

“I wouldn’t dare feed you anything I attempted to cook. I do like to have some self-esteem.”

“You made a wonderful salad,” Rilienus assured him with a little wink. “You can slice an apricot like no one else.”

“You don’t even like eating them sliced,” Dorian sniffed. “You like to eat them, skin and all, like a heathen.”

“Pater, can we have cookies, too?” Plini asked hopefully.

“One each, I think,” Dorian hummed thoughtfully. “You’ve both already had more than enough sugar, but I do think your papa’s return deserves a celebration.”

“Maybe you’ll sing for us?” Rilienus wondered, watching him. “Since it’s a celebration.” A celebration. Dorian’s father had tried to destroy Dorian, had tried to have Rilienus murdered, was still at large- but they were alive, they had each other. “What do you think?”

“Only if I’ve company.” Dorian crossed to him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Welcome home, darling. We’ve missed you something fierce.”

[midnightprelude]

Major Arcana: Lovers, Reversed

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

Masterpost | First | Previous | Next

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

It was, Rilienus could admit, a relief. He knew they’d barely scratched the surface of the spell. He knew that. And yet, he could sit in the courtyard in the sunshine and listen to Dorian’s voice, watch him play with the twins, see the trio of smiles that made his heart thunder with pride and adoration. Home. His. 

Well. Not his. Not theirs. But they couldn’t return to their townhome in Minrathous. Not yet. It was warded, yes, but his parents manor was protected - not just the walls but the grounds, the trees, the lake… The land was Maecilia and any encroachment was more than trespassing. It was war. 

Halward Pavus, Rilienus thought grimly, might not give a damn about Dorian, or their family, or their lives, but he’d damn well not risk acknowledging what he’d done in a public forum. 

So. His parents’ home. Safety was what they needed right now. Isolation. 

He squinted as Plini’s panpipes drifted in and out of actual melody, but the boy was having fun. There was plenty of time for him to learn the skill, if he wanted it. Rilienus flexed his jaw as the notes soared sharp again and considered whether he could just… mute the noise for a little while. No, he reminded himself. He was conserving his mana. He leaned back on the chaise, resting his book on his knee, and accepted that it was just going to sound awful for a little while. Sharp notes and big smiles and Dorian swinging Isobel in a circle so her toes brushed through the water spilling from the fountain. 

Their life.

Their life that the monster had stolen from them. 

The thought made him burn. 

The audacity of it. The cruelty. And that was before the cost. The cost to Dorian. The cost, in blood, that Rilienus knew had been spent to accomplish the grisly deed. 

He didn’t find blood magic nearly as offensive as Dorian did. As many mages, at least, purported to. It had its values, when used sparingly and with purpose. He used it himself each time he sank into Dorian’s dreams through the sieve. But that was his own blood. And what it took to weave a Rishiri… 

He could only be grateful that Dorian hadn’t yet asked about that. Wondered. Dug. It would break his beautiful heart. 

Dorian, who was laughing as he set their daughter lightly on her feet and the two of them wobbled, dizzy, to join Rilienus on the outstretched picnic blanket. He lay on his side, next to Rilienus, pulling the basket of freshly picked cherries closer to him. 

“I think you were on that chapter the last time I checked in,” Dorian chuckled, nudging him with his foot.

Rilienus set the book aside, rolling to face him, and brushed the sweet curve of Dorian’s bang back from his brow. “You’re much more interesting than Nevarran shroud weaving techniques.” Plini was trying to climb up the cherry tree after his sister. “Tired yet?”

“Not just yet,” Dorian hummed, nibbling on a cherry, spitting out the pit. Before it landed on the earth, wings sprouted and a fat honeybee flew off towards the manor. “Though, I’d give them about half an hour before they crash. Maybe less.”

“They missed you.” Rilienus leaned closer to breathe the scent of Dorian’s sweat from his jaw, touching the arch of his clavicle peeking from beneath the crisp linen tunic. “You smell good.”

“Yes?” Dorian smiled up at him, warm and easy. “You’re sure it isn’t the cherries?”

“Should I check?” Rilienus nuzzled his cheek, enjoying the soft beard that had grown in while it lasted. Trimmed and conditioned, smelling of spices and sweet oil. He followed the curve of Dorian’s cheek to his lips, sighing. Cherries on his breath. Mint and tart from the lemonade. “It’s you,” he murmured, smoothing his palm up Dorian’s chest. “Definitely you.”

Dorian laced their fingers together, leaning closer. “That’s kind of you to say.”

Rilienus cupped the back of his neck, nibbling at his lower lip, an ache rising in him. “I can be very kind, to you,” he sighed, squeezing Dorian’s hand as he slipped his foot past the man’s sun-warmed ankle. “Very kind indeed.”

Dorian hissed, eyes tightly shut as he pulled away. He exhaled sharply, his skin suddenly pale. “Kaffas, I’m-“ Dorian winced, hands clenching in the blanket. “It’s the spell again, I think.”

“What-“ Rilienus touched his shoulder, glancing towards the children in the tree. “Dorian-“

“Don’t. Don’t touch me.”

Rilienus yanked back, holding his hands up and quickly looked around. Nothing Dorian could use for a weapon anywhere nearby, thank the gods, but there was still his prodigious talent to manage. He could still remember the smell of flesh when Herminius had lay crumpled in front of the library. “Calm. Be calm. Dorian. You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you,” he said slowly and quietly. 

Dorian’s breathing slowed, his fingers unclenching from their fists. His face was still pained when he finally opened his eyes again. “I’m so sorry.”

Rilienus shook his head. “I’m going to send the twins back to the house. Okay?”

“I-“ Dorian nodded, looking dejected. “Take them. I’ll be here.”

“It isn’t you. I’m just taking precautions. Do you understand?” he asked, even as he climbed to his feet. “Please- Please stay here. No one’s angry. Plin! Bella! Avia wanted you to join her for tea in the butterfly garden. Come along!” He caught Isobel around the waist when she ran towards Dorian. “Come on. There might not be any biscuits left if you tarry. Pater’s taking a rest for a moment.” 

He carried her, taking Plini’s hand, and brought them back to the safety of the house and the cradle of his mother’s arms before he returned to the orchard. The blanket was rolled up. The grass flattened where they’d lain. “Dorian?”

Dorian stepped out from behind a nearby cherry tree, the kohl that lined his eyes hopelessly smudged. “I can’t be with you the way you want me to be. I can’t be trusted around my own children. Am I a monster?”

“No.” Rilienus shook his head roughly, taking a step towards him and then stopping, holding his palms out to his sides. “No. You’re not a monster. A monster did this to you and we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” He shifted helplessly from one foot to another. “I trust you with them. I do. It’s only that the last time you- I didn’t want them to see, if-“

“I wouldn’t want them to see me hurt anyone, either. I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting them.” Dorian dipped his chin. “Perhaps I should stay away from them until this mess is- Though, what if I’m always like this?”

“You shouldn’t stay away from them.” Rilienus wrapped his arms around himself, hating how lost and sad Dorian looked when he’d been laughing so recently. “Just me. You should stay away from me. It’s my fault.”

“How in the world is it your fault?”

“I knew you didn’t- I knew you weren’t ready. I forgot.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I was caught up in the moment. I wasn’t thinking.”

“You shouldn’t have to think.” Dorian stepped closer to him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. “This- This is okay, I think. I don’t- It’s hard to tell what is going to cause… a reaction.”

Rilienus shuddered, fighting a sob. There wasn’t room for the both of them to need support. Dorian was ensorcelled. He needed to be helped and warmed and given affection and love until he was whole again. Whole. Dorian would be whole again. He would be, no matter what. Rilienus swallowed carefully. “I hate this,” he breathed. “I hate what he did to you. I hate it, Dorian.”

“What-“ Dorian sighed, holding him closer. “Your father wouldn’t tell me who you thought cast the spell.”

“The spell.” Rilienus exhaled shakily, resting his forehead to Dorian’s shoulder. ‘Spell’ seemed like such a small word for the orchestra of pain surrounding them. “No. He shouldn’t.”

“But you’re confident.” Dorian rubbed slow circles against his spine.

“If I am wrong…” Rilienus shook his head. “I do not believe that I am.”

“We should tell my family.” Dorian cupped his cheek, glancing between his eyes. “If our enemies are moving against us, my father could be in danger.”

He was tired. He was so fucking tired. Even after days of rest, Rilienus could have easily fallen back into bed and slept for another week. At least. He studied the lines of the branches past Dorian’s head, thinking carefully about the leaves and how they attached to the wood, where they clustered and why, the name of each shade of green and red and brown. “Alright,” he agreed quietly, having no intention at all of following through. “When you can remember, we will let them know.”

“I thought you were almost certain.” Dorian lifted his brows. 

“It doesn’t matter what I know. It matters what you know.” Rilienus schooled his features, drawing himself back to soft silver beneath drawn brows. “Because you do know. The memory is there.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready to dig again,” Dorian said softly, pressing their foreheads together. “Soon. Not yet.”

He couldn’t very well blame him. Rilienus had been pushing him, nudging him, taking him around and around through his own memories on a loop for weeks. Just to get to here. “…did you… did you want to hurt me again this time?”

“No.” Dorian grimaced. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. It hurts. I was surprised. Scared. But I know who I am; I didn’t lose that.”

Rilienus nodded slowly. “…what does it feel like? Where?”

“A sharp pain behind my eyes. Nausea. Everything cramps. Is that common with Rishiri?”

Rilienus bit the back of his tongue, hard. “Some variants.” Variants someone very intent on their goal would have used, knowing that Carastes’ favored pupil and the Consiliare’s researcher would be dead set on reversing that goal. “Is it… better now?”

“Only an afterthought, now. It abated as soon as you moved away.” Dorian exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. “Is there a way to make me whole again?”

“Every tapestry can be reduced to its original parts. It’s only a matter of time, energy, and determination.” Rilienus hesitated, then touched Dorian’s cheek. “I’m going to get you back. Do you believe me?”

“You showed me that spatial correspondence is not only possible, but energy efficient.” Dorian smiled wearily. “If you say it can be done, it can.”

“You showed me that figural transformation doesn’t require runes and wards and careful preparation,” Rilienus told him, twining their fingers together. “If anyone can do this, you can.”

“Another week. Maybe two.” Dorian kissed his forehead gently. “Then we’ll try again, hm?”

“We will.” Rilienus stayed where he was, lingering with the sensation of Dorian’s lips for as long as he could. So long as he was here, home, and stayed. 

[midnightprelude]

Major Arcana: Star

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

Masterpost | First | Previous | Next

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

He held Rilienus for hours, massaging circles into his muscles. Too thin. Too tense. Too many still healing cuts along his arms, his palms, where Rilienus had bled himself to keep Dorian asleep and healthy.

They had meant to honeymoon in Rivain, he remembered, not cling to each other at Rilienus’ childhood home, fighting and exhausted. 

Dorian was broken, he knew, and not the man Rilienus remembered. He failed him, even as he held him, trying to smooth away the sorrow etched in Rilienus’ expression. The thought made him ache, even as the steady rhythm of Rilienus’ breaths soothed him.

He couldn’t sleep. He didn’t try to. He felt the tug of Rilienus’ magic as the last of it fell away, like sheets slipping off the side of the bed, some lingering spell that-

Bruises bloomed across the side of Rilienus’ face, green at his cheek, blotched around his eye. A healing lip. An impact point.

Rilienus held him tightly, even in sleep, gripping Dorian’s tunic as if he might slip away.

“I’d heard you were awake.” Marius Maecilia filled the frame of the doorway, the stole of his Senate robes thrown over his shoulder, the black robes folded over his arm. He left both over the back of an arm chair as he crossed into the dim room, his cool gaze lingering on his son’s healing bruises before he met Dorian’s eyes. Studied him. Searching… and then he nodded slightly to himself, resting a hand on Dorian’s shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, my boy.”

“Did I…” he wondered quietly.

“I’ll say this,” Marius squeezed his arm before drawing his hand back. “I pity your enemies. We don’t happen to know for a surety who those are as yet, do we?”

“He does,” Dorian murmured, his fingers tracing lazy circles through the ringlets of Rilienus’ curls. “He thinks he does. I can’t yet recall. Some of my memories are hidden from me.”

Marius sighed deeply. “…When you know, know that we are with you.”

Dorian ducked his head, exhaling sharply. “I’ve brought sorrow into your household,” he whispered, focusing on the marks he’d left on Rilienus’ skin. Hidden by a charm that had fallen when Rilienus’ power had finally worn down. To keep the knowledge from Dorian, because he knew it would upset him. “I hope never to do so again.”

“A hope more easily reached as soon as we can take action against those that put us in this position. We all know that none of the fault of this lies at your feet.” Marius poured a cup of water from the carafe by the bed and held it out. “And thankfully the twins are too young to wonder.” He frowned. “…you should rest and focus on healing.”

“I’ve been sleeping for three weeks.” Dorian shrugged, frowning, accepting the water and drinking it in a couple of gulps. “I couldn’t even if I wished to.”

“So has he,” Marius nodded to Rilienus. “For most of that. Take time. Until we know for sure that- It is best if you stay inside. Build your strength.”

“And his,” Dorian agreed softly. “Has he told you of his suspicions?”

Marius lifted a brow and the expression was so strikingly Rilienus’. “He has. He gave very strict instructions that we weren’t to discuss it with you. I hope you can understand why.”

“I… am not as resilient as I’ve been in the past.” Dorian frowned. “Have you sent word to my family? Are they here as well?”

“…no.” Marius folded his hands on his knee, his gaze carefully traveling over the wardstones, the sending pool, the piles of scrolls on the coffee table. “…would you like for me to make contact with them on your behalf?”

“Would you not want to know, if it were Rilienus?”

Marius studied the empty fireplace as the sky through the window blackened from a deep orange. “I would want to know,” he said slowly, “if it were you. You are as much my son as he is, papers or no.”

Dorian smiled, dipping his chin. “That’s kind of you to say. I do hope he still wishes to sign them.”

“I did write to Gereon. I’ve yet to hear back. He traveled south, wouldn’t say where. Some project.” 

“…project.” Dorian frowned. “I’m surprised Felix isn’t with him.”

“And leave you alone to plan the big day? I can’t imagine your friend wandering away from your wedding day, can you? Speaking of which, I did see Magister Tilani today. I’m certain she would like to see you if and when you’re up for it.”

“Soon. Yes. Soon.” Dorian nodded, peering down at Rilienus. “Perhaps when the circles under his eyes soften again.”

Marius uttered a quiet ‘hmm’ along with a nod as Rilienus stirred under Dorian’s fingers. 

“Pater?”

“Just checking in to see how things are going.”

Rilienus nodded sleepily, his cheek resting on Dorian’s shoulder. “Better.”

“Yes. Good.” 

“There’s still-“

“So I’ve heard.” Marius met his son’s gaze for a long moment, something silent passing between them. “It’s been a long day. I’m going to scrape something up in the kitchen. Do you need anything?”

“Gods I could go for just about anything.” Dorian squeezed Rilienus’ shoulder. “Apricots, darling?”

Rilienus looked up at him then, searching, and touched his cheek. “Yes. Alright.”

Marius left a bowl of fresh fruit by the door while Dorian drew a bath into the copper basin in the next room. His mana seemed intact, from what he remembered, untouched by whatever spells still wound around him. His cheeks had been overtaken by three weeks of unruly growth, his muscles somewhat diminished from the memories he’d glimpsed while he was slumbering.

Rilienus watched him as he moved around the room, passing a plump apricot from palm to palm thoughtfully. “I don’t hate you with a beard,” he murmured after a while. “It’s… distinguished.”

“‘Don’t hate’ is a rather low bar, don’t you think?” Dorian asked quietly. “Are you intending to grow yours?”

He rubbed the fruit against his cheek, his bristles scratching the smooth surface. “For a little while, I think. Saves time.”

“I’ll trim mine, then, as opposed to removing it all entirely.” Dorian rubbed his hand across his chin. “If it’s dreadful, I’ll try something else.”

“You couldn’t look dreadful if you tried,” Rilienus murmured. The bruises were gone again, concealed by his power. Not much left in him; Dorian could feel that, too. The emptiness. “…You don’t mind it?”

“I don’t mind what?”

Rilienus plucked at the curled bristles on his chin.

“I don’t mind it, no.” Dorian rummaged for the shaving kit, setting out the blades in a tidy row when he found them.

“I’d hate to be another Fortus.”

“…pardon?”

“Galania? From outside Perivantium? Huge beard. Made your chin all red?”

“My chin? Why was my chin-“ Dorian frowned, nodding. “Ah. Another tryst I can’t remember?”

“Before my time.” Rilienus agreed. “I don’t mind them. Beards, I mean.” He cleared his throat. “You really don’t remember anything about it? At all?”

He wet his cheeks, taking up the scissors. “About Fortus? Or about my affairs in general?”

“You can’t remember Jules, or the hot springs, or Perivantium, except I can find them in your mind when I’m in there. They aren’t gone. Only hidden.” Rilienus spoke as though he were trying to convince himself. Of what, precisely, Dorian wasn’t sure. “I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t remember Perivantium. Yes, there was Fortus, but there was also the debate on arcanum resonance and the ruins where you studied the Neromenian vases. All of it tossed aside because of a burly fellow with a beard?”

“I remember Perivantium,” Dorian frowned, some of the pieces falling together as Rilienus reminded him. “There are… voids. So many voids, it’s hard to tell what happened when or where. The contexts are all muddled and jumbled together.”

“But you don’t remember Fortus.” Rilienus rested his chin on his knee. “Or Ernesto. What do you remember about Perivantium?”

“I was at the Circle there for some time, then I wasn’t.”

“Do you remember why?”

Dorian closed his eyes. “I remember the carriage ride to Qarinus was silent. I don’t know what happened to cause me to leave.”

Rilienus ran his tongue over his teeth, exhaling. “Does it help to talk about it?” he asked carefully. 

“I can see you now. I know who you are. I haven’t hurt you again, since I’ve awoken.” Dorian set the scissors aside. “Does it help you for me to talk about it?”

“…I’m not certain,” Rilienus admitted quietly. “I’m not certain it helps. Your mind… your memories… they’re who you are. I love who you…” He trailed off, looking down at the apricot. “I don’t know what to do next. Normally, I’d ask you. I imagine that spell isn’t likely to let you tell me.”

“You love who I was.” Dorian swallowed, drying his face, staring at his own reflection. “That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it?”

Rilienus abandoned the settee, crossing to wrap his arms around Dorian, resting his chin on his shoulder. “I love you, Dorian Pavus. No matter what happens. I swore. Do you remember?”

“Before you left for Rivain. When you returned. A hundred other times and probably a thousand more that are hidden from me.” Dorian leaned against him, grateful for the pressure against his back. “I remember.”

“We’ll find our way through this,” Rilienus murmured, muffled, pressing his face to Dorian’s neck. “I promise you that, too. That you can be here again, with me, with us… That is a relief.”

“I’d like to see them,” Dorian admitted softly, turning in his arms. “…if you think- If you believe it’s safe for me to do so.”

Rilienus sagged in his arms, his breaths warm against Dorian’s skin. “It would be good for them to see you. I told them you had measles and you were contagious.”

“Gods, what did you tell them measles did? Turn all their stuffies bald?”

He laughed, rubbing his eyes as he straightened. “I wanted them to be alright giving us space, not to give them nightmares. Can you imagine little Sennec with no fur?”

“Horrifying,” Dorian chuckled. “We do both look a bit like we’re recovering from a wasting sickness.”

“I’ll handle that.” Rilienus squeezed his hips gently, stepping away towards a wooden case. Mostly empty bottles, save a spare few filled with bright blue liquid. He poured a measure into a spoon and sipped, wincing and inhaling sharply. “Never gets easier.”

“You’ve drained yourself down to your dregs. I’d like to take some time for you to recover before we go untangling again, hm?”

“For me to recover?” he asked, glancing over as he tapped a warm glow back into his own cheeks, then returned to Dorian to do the same. “Or… do you not want to-“

“I don’t want to be missing pieces of myself,” Dorian admitted softly, “but I don’t want to lose you trying to find them. I want you to rest and regain your strength.”

Rilienus looked at him, brushing his thumbs beneath his eyes, a sizzle of ozone in the air. “You are my strength. You always have been.”

“I could have killed you.” Dorian touched near where Rilienus’ bruise had been, feather-light. “I need you to have your own strength, too. Alright?”

Rilienus closed his eyes, leaning into his touch again. “Yes. Alright. Yes.” He dampened his lips. “Do you… Do you remember the merprinces? The story?”

“The one you used to tell the twins while you played your hand harp?”

“You told it better. You did the voices. Bella’s been missing the crab, in particular.”

“Is she?” Dorian hummed low, hugging him. “Perhaps we can catch them before your mother tucks them in.”

Rilienus nodded, breathing for a few minutes in the circle of Dorian’s arms before he drew away, taking Dorian’s hand to walk from the room and down the hall. He recognized the long rug down the tiled floor, the mosaics on the walls, the door to Rilienus’ childhood room. Wards and carvings of birds. 

“Any room for a couple more?” Rilienus asked as he nudged the door open. And then Dorian remembered carefully scouring the shops in Minrathous for just the right beds for the twins that would fit in the space. The bird bath just outside the window. The scent of oranges that poured in during the summers.

Auna glanced up as they stepped inside, a smile blooming across her lips. “I think we can manage,” she murmured as a little princess with dark curls clambered from her bed and ran over to them, throwing her arms around them both. 

“Papa and Pater! It’s Papa and Pater!” she chirped, hugging them, still jumping.

The little boy, Plini, stayed in his bed beside Auna, tugging the blanket up to nibble at the edge. 

Pater. The first time he’d heard them say it - Isobel was first, as in most things - he’d nearly wept. He was dangerously close now, as he scooped up the little girl into his arms, hugging her close. Almost three and sharp as a tack. Dorian kissed the top of her head, tugging gently on her dark pigtail. “Your Papa has been working night and day to make me well enough to see you again. I missed you, little dove.”

“Coo, coo!” she sang, bouncing in his arms. “I missed you, too!”

“No more measles?” Plini asked nervously.

“We’ll still need to rest, because measles is a lot of work,” Dorian glanced over to Rilienus. “But we’re both feeling better, aren’t we?”

“We are,” Rilienus agreed, petting Isobel’s hair and pressing a kiss to her cheek before crossing slowly to the bed. “It’s safe, Plin. We’re okay.”

Plini wound the blankets in his hands, but didn’t pull away when Rilienus sat beside him and held a hand out. “See? No spots.”

Plini turned Rilienus’ arm over, examining it cautiously, then scooting closer to him once he was satisfied. “I missed you, Papa. I hate the measles.”

“So do I, Plin,” Rilienus agreed with feeling, hugging the boy. “I hate them very much. But I love you.” He leaned back to study the boy seriously. “Mada says you’re getting very good at the pipes. We’ll have to hear it tomorrow, alright? There’s a lot to catch up on.”

“And I can show you Mr. Whiskers’ circus!” Bella squealed, wiggling in Dorian’s arms until he put her down gingerly. “We can show you now-“

“Riling them up before bedtime,” Auna tutted, rolling her eyes. “Gracious. Bed, young lady.”

“Pater, have you ever seen a rabbit do a flip?” Bella asked him, flopping down on her bed with a grunt. “Mr. Whiskers runs around if you sprinkle spinach and there was a hoop and-“

Dorian laughed, sitting by her side and drawing the blankets back so she could climb in. “I’ve never seen a rabbit do a flip, but I look forward to it tomorrow. I heard a rumor you wanted to hear the merprinces story again?”

“Oh, yes, please!” Isobel clapped her hands together as he tucked her in. “With the crabs and the swarms of fish?”

“Schools of fish,” Rilienus corrected gently. “We can take it from here, Mada.”

Auna leaned over to kiss him on the head, then Plini, then Isobel. She took Dorian’s face in her hands and pressed her lips to his forehead. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. We were all worried.”

“Neither of us could have done it without you.” Dorian dipped his head. “Thank you for taking care of us.”

“That’s family. Nothing to be thanking me for.” She patted his cheek. “Goodnight, ducklings.”

“Goodnight, Avia,” they chorused, one louder than the other, and Rilienus pulled a lap harp from its shelf, settling in beside Plini. “Water or reeds?” he asked quietly. 

“Water,” the boy decided, snuggling in, arms wrapped around a fuzzy stuffed druffalo. So Rilienus played, plucking a series of strings in a gentle cascade like the lapping of a seashore.