I'm not the most consistent with this blog so feel free to message me/follow me on my main @ karasu8.A personal writing blog for my otp of Kestrel Lavellen and Dorian from Dragon Age: Inquisition. WARNING: there may be some nsfw content that appears depending on my mood. And definitely angst. Find me and my writings on AO3! I'm under handle Karasu888 or via: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karasu888
Find this fic in its entirety at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423880/chapters/53360149
The journey back was a leisurely one. They had a whole caravan of Kestrel’s mounts from Skyhold to take back to Tevinter, afterall. After a tearful goodbye from Dennett, at least the harts and horses, and a light pat to the drascolisks and giant nug, they set off with Dalish and Taeven joining them. Neither knew how to access the eluvian that had brought them to Skyhold, and Dorian promised a concerned Dalish he’d help him with the studies he was missing.
The journey back was an uneventful one. Kestrel practice attuning himself to the quirks of his new arm with Taeven’s aid while Dorian and Dalish worked on his magic studies. Kestrel often found himself staring at the two of them, admiring their growing bond during the trip.
The journey back was an emotional one.
“You know, there is a path to adoption,” Taeven whispered one time when Kestrel found himself staring again with a fond smile.
Immediately, his attention was on Taeven. “There is?”
“Sure. If you have a magister sponsor the adoption, no one will even look twice. He’d take the Pavus name and become an official heir.”
“That’s wonderful news! I have to check with Dorian, but I’m sure he would agree.”
“Would I?”
Kestrel jumped and turned his attention to Dorian. Both him and Dalish were watching him with similar expressions full of love and amusement, although Dalish’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. That could only mean one thing. “You already went through with the adoption, didn’t you?” Kestrel said, prodding Dorian in the chest with the accusation, struggling to keep his own tears in check.
“Before we left for Skyhold, I had the papers drawn up. I was going to surprise you with them once we returned home. Everyone was to keep quiet until then, but then I guess some of us are better at keeping secrets than others,” Dorian answered, looking pointedly at Taeven. “Dalish kept the secret better than you, you old man!”
Taeven grinned and shrugged. “My memory must’ve failed me.”
They all started laughing and didn’t stop until they were wiping tears from their eyes and embracing.
Kestrel had gained so much in the last month, it overshadowed everything that had been taken from him. He’d gained a husband, a son, friends, both new and old, and they all made up his family. That found family was his true happiness.
EPILOGUE:
Dorian sliced a carrot in the kitchen, preparing the vegetables for a stew while Kestrel had the less appealing task of skinning and gutting the rabbit he’d shot earlier. Summer had come and gone, and fall shed the leaves from the trees and made the ground crunch underfoot as the herald for winter. Dalish would be returning home from the circle for Satinalia in the next few weeks, and Kestrel was a restless ball of energy, waiting for his return.
They’d fallen into a healthy cycle of rest and relaxation over the past months after the house was finished and set-up as Kestrel preferred on the outside and how Dorian preferred on the inside. Sure, there were trips made into Minrathous when the Magisterium was in session, or trips around Tevinter for other Lucerni work, but their life was relatively quiet. Dorian could tell it was wearing on Kestrel who spent his days hunting to get out of the house. Their larder was full of enough meat to last them well through spring.
A knock on the door drew Dorian’s attention from his thoughts and the mangled carrot in front of him. He still wasn’t great at chopping vegetables and doubted he ever would be. Not a horrible loss in the grand scheme of things.
“Kes, if you have your hands full of more dead animals, I swear--” Dorian opened the door to find Cullen there dressed in his leather traveling armor, red cloak slung around his shoulders, but missing that distinctive fur mantle.
“Ah, Dorian,” Cullen greeted in his typical, endearing, awkward manner.
“Wonderful to see you too, Cullen. Please, come in,” Dorian said with a smirk, turning sideways to allow him past.
“You have a beautiful house here. Very peaceful,” he said, hands twisting together as he looked around the entryway.
The nervous action wasn’t missed by Dorian. “Yes, and we prefer to keep it that way. What can I do for you, Commander?”
Cullen glanced around, refusing to meet Dorian’s gaze. Straightening his shoulders, he asked, “Is the Inquisit--Kestrel around?”
“I thought you’d retired to help other retired templars, Cullen. What are you doing here?”
“We have word on his location through Leliana’s network. He never stays in one place long, so we must act.”
Dorian crossed his arms over his chest. “You can’t ask this of Kes!” he said sharply.
Cullen finally met his angry gaze. “Solas helped him when he was enslaved and let him and his kid use the eluvian network. Kestrel is the only one who might be able to get close enough to him to…”
“Cullen!” Kestrel said, coming from the kitchen. His nose and cheeks rosy with the outdoor cold, but it did nothing to dampen the bright smile offered to their visitor.
Kestrel had come so far in the last several months. It’d been at least a month since his last nightmare and longer still since his last relapse into the depths of his trauma. Dorian and Dalish had nurtured him along with their unconditional love, bringing the light and life back into those beautiful sea-blue eyes of his. He was not about to let Cullen or the shadow of their former organization he still represented take that away from Kestrel again.
Cullen smiled in response to Kestrel’s warm welcome before it faded into a concerned frown.
Dorian could only hope Cullen saw the change in Kestrel too and would think better of his request.
Kestrel linked arms with Cullen and led him deeper into the house. “Come, you must stay for dinner. So long as you don’t mind your vegetables butchered. Dorian’s the smartest man I know, yet he can’t chop a carrot to save his life.”
Laughing, the two disappeared in the back.
“Kaffas,” Dorian cursed under his breath, and it wasn’t about the insult to his culinary skills either.
He hurried after them. He cleared the doorway into the kitchen as Kestrel dropped the diced rabbit meat into the pot, along with Dorian’s poorly cut vegetables. Kestrel poured a mug of ale for Cullen from a small cask on the counter and handed it over, before pouring himself one. Leaning against the counter, he watched Cullen over his cup as the man chugged the entire contents before setting it down on the table.
Dorian joined Kestrel at his side as Kestrel said, “Now, Cullen, as much as your visit is welcomed, you’re not the type to drop in unexpectedly without something important to say. Out with it, so you can enjoy your meal without it hanging over you.”
Cullen pinkened and swallowed heavily. “I...well, we’ve tracked Solas down, but we can’t get to him. We think you might be able to.”
“Where is he?”
“In Tevinter. About a day’s ride away.”
Kestrel grabbed Dorian’s hand.
Dorian squeezed is reassurance, already knowing what words were going to come out of his mouth. He also knew there’d be no point in arguing.
“We have to be back in time for Satinalia. Our son is coming home for the holiday.”
Cullen nodded his head. “If all goes well, that should happen. We’ve planned a week.”
Dorian snorted. Since when did their plans go well?
Kestrel turned to him and said, “You can stay, ma vhenan. I know you have a big meeting with the Lucerni coming up.”
Dorian waved his comment away. “Mae can handle it. I’m never leaving your side again, amatus. If you believe this course of action is best, then I’m with you. Better together.”
Kestrel cupped Dorian’s cheek with his hand, the metal of his gold ring cool against Dorian’s skin compared to Kestrel’s palm. “Better together.”
Whatever Fen’Harel had in store for them, whatever other obstacles Thedas conjured to throw in their path, Dorian knew they’d be okay if they stayed together. He’d never let the world or his own stupidity tear them apart again.
Warnings: NSFW - it’s their wedding night and it’s very explicit ;)
Weekly updates on AO3. Find this fic in its entirety at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423880/chapters/53110393
Here’s the update that was posted today on AO3!
The sky darkened in color to true night when most would already be asleep, yet the celebration in their honor continued at the tavern. Dorian and Kestrel shared in the festivities for a time, but the need to be alone and together grew and grew until they stole away.
Hands had already undone belts and leather before they made it to Kestrel’s tower room. At the bottom of the stairs, Kestrel’s heavy robe landed with a thud on the floor.
Dorian backed up the stairs, lips still locked with Kestrel as his own outer garment fluttered to the floor.
Muttering against Dorian’s mouth, Kestrel complained, “Why’d you have to wear more clothes tonight than your other wedding?”
Dorian chuckled before smothering Kestrel with another heart-stopping kiss.
As they cleared the steps, Kestrel pulled the golden tie loose from Dorian’s hair before grabbing the freed locks in his hand and tugged.
They parted with a pleased gasp from Dorian. His face was flushed, evident even against his darker skin, and his arousal strained against his pants, clearly longing for release without the robe to cover the thin fabric beneath. “You make me breathless, husband of mine,” Dorian whispered.
Husband. He was Dorian’s husband. The thought punched him in the gut, and Kestrel grimaced against fresh tears and raw emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.
Cupping Kestrel’s face in his hands, Dorian asked, “What is it?”
“I was just thinking wondering how I got so lucky.”
“Well, we both had positively shitty childhoods. A reward was due.”
Dorian balanced out all of the evil he’d experience in his relatively short life. Even the more recent events. Still, given a moment’s pause, the memories started a fresh assault, and Kestrel dropped his gaze, shuddering.
Dorian gripped his face harder. “No. No going back there. You’re with me now, and we’re only looking forward, okay, amatus?”
Kestrel returned his gaze to Dorian and pleaded, “Then make me forget about everything, if only for a bit.”
After watching him closely for a long, drawn out moment, Dorian leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against Kestrel’s lips. Where their previous ones had been aggressive and passionate, this one was tender and full of love.
Kestrel whimpered and returned the kiss, closing his eyes. His body responded to the delicate touch, and Kestrel pressed himself against Dorian’s own erection, trying to show Dorian he wasn’t broken.
Thumbs caressed his cheeks and traveled down his neck until Dorian’s arms draped over Kestrel’s shoulders. Slowly, he guided them both to the bed but kept them standing next to it.
They were really going to have sex, weren’t they? Instead of enhancing his arousal, that thought only dampened it. Thinking of letting Dorian fuck him summoned recent memories of his rape. It’d hurt, and while he knew Dorian would never hurt him like that, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to enjoy sex. But that didn’t matter. It was their wedding night and a common practice between humans and elves alike to seal the newly founded bond with sex. He owed that to Dorian.
“Kes…?”
Kestrel blinked and realized he’d gone still in Dorian’s arms, cock soft while Dorian’s remained hard between them.
Guessing where his mind had wandered, Dorian asked, “This is too much too soon, isn’t it?”
“No! No, it’s not. It’s our bonding...our wedding night. This is expected. And I, I want to.” He wasn’t going to let himself ruin a wonderful night with Dorian.
Dorian tilted his head to the side, hair spilling over his shoulder. Suddenly, he raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You know,” he started slowly, “there’s something I’ve been wanting to do again.”
Kestrel realized he was holding his breath, worried Dorian was going to deny him tonight. He grasped onto the change of topic, forcing a smile. “Whatever you want. Anything you want. I’m yours, Dorian.”
“You realize I’m yours as much as you’re mine, correct?”
“Of course.”
Dorian smiled. “Good. Then, I want you to show me how much I’m yours.”
Kestrel’s mind stuttered to a halt and his jaw dropped. He finally managed the most eloquent of responses. “...what?”
Leaning close, Dorian grazed the tip of his wonderful nose along Kestrel’s jaw. When he neared Kestrel’s ear, he whispered, “Fuck me, Kes.”
His voice was dark with sin, and its deep rumble went straight to Kestrel’s cock. “But we’ve only done that one other time,” he stammered. It was an amazing time, even if it was a different type of pleasure, but he was inexperienced, and he didn’t think their wedding night deserved his fumbling around.
Sensing his doubts, Dorian said, “That’s because, when you were Inquisitor, you needed someone to take control in bed. You needed someone to take care of you. But now I get the feeling you need to be in control again. I want you to be in control. So take control and fuck me.”
His last sentence sounded desperate, needy, and so unlike Dorian that Kestrel pulled back enough to look at him. Dorian’s eyes were nearly black with desire as his tongue slipped over his lips to wet them. Kestrel’s eyes followed its movement, shifting his hips against his new erection.
Kestrel considered the proposal. More control would lessen the surprise touches that sent his mind spinning into his memories, and their positions would be reversed, so hopefully the act itself wouldn’t trigger any dark thoughts. It might be enough of a change to allow him to enjoy their wedding night together. He was Dorian’s husband now, and he didn’t want to miss enjoying their wedding night. There’d only be one of them.
Dorian watched him in silence, knowing the decision was Kestrel’s alone to make.
He was already less of a man for losing an arm. If he couldn’t make love to man he loved, what was really left of him? Dorian was giving him a chance to prove he wasn’t broken. He’d already accepted him, issues and all, and this was such a simple request to honor. How could Kestrel deny such a beautiful man - his husband - such a simple request?
Having made his decision, Kestrel grinned. “If you insist, ma vhenan.”
Dorian immediately relaxed, shoulder’s dropping. “Tell me what you want to do, amatus. You’re in control.”
“Remove your clothes,” Kestrel said, straightening his back and pulling on his Inquisitor persona. It allowed him to be his former, stronger self, confident and in charge. They were in his old room, after all. It was easier to do than he thought.
Quick to comply, Dorian undid the golden cuffs and pulled his tunic over his head, casting it onto the floor. His pants were as efficiently shed, kicked off right after his boots. As his fingers reached for the golden collar, Kestrel said firmly, “No. Leave that on.”
He didn’t miss Dorian’s cock twitching with the command and leaned in close.
Dorian extended his jaw in anticipation as their mouths neared.
“Did I say you could kiss me?” Kestrel whispered, lips so close.
Swallowing hard, Dorian shut his eyes and shuddered. “No.”
They weren’t touching, weren’t even making eye contact, but Kestrel could feel need radiating from Dorian. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he said.
“You have…” Dorian paused to swallow again. “No idea.”
Kestrel grabbed Dorian’s cock, thumb swiping over the leaking head. “Oh, I think I do.”
The gasp that left Dorian said everything.
“Even if I can’t…” Some of Kestrel’s confidence fled, pulling gray eyes to his in the moment of silence. There was safety in those gray depths. No, his cock hadn’t betrayed him yet. And, even if it did, that didn’t mean he still couldn't ensure Dorian had fun, or that he had fun pleasing Dorian. With a grin, he continued, “I’m going to make this the best night of your life, husband of mine.”
“Oh? Even better than that time I fucked you against the War Room table?” Dorian asked.
Kestrel laughed. Now that had been fun. “Mmm, you’ll see. Now,” He shoved Dorian’s chest, knocking him off balance so he was forced to plop onto the edge of the bed, “lie back.”
Dorian did as ordered, lying flat on the bed with his legs still draped over the edge. He ran his hands up his chest, muscles tightening and nipples hardening beneath his touch, before they settled above his head.
He was a feast for the eyes, and he knew it, if that smirk on his lips said anything.
Still clothed in his own tunic and pants, Kestrel straddled Dorian, smiling down at him. “You’re beautiful,” he said.
Dorian’s only response was, “I know.”
Such a smart ass.
Kestrel grabbed Dorian’s wrists in his own hand, leaning over the cocky man. “And you’re mine. Only mine.”
That smirk of Dorian’s faltered, replaced with an expression of sincerity. “Yes. I’m yours, forever yours, amatus,” he whispered, eyes shifting between Kestrel’s in earnest.
In that moment, all walls were dropped, all bluster and confidence laid aside. Dorian was exposed underneath Kestrel, both physically and emotionally, and he was all Kestrel’s.
Unable to resist any longer, Kestrel kissed Dorian hard and fast, barely angling his head in time to avoid bumping noses.
Dorian’s body arched into him with a long groan forced into their kiss, but his hands remained secured in Kestrel’s loose hold.
Kestrel ground his cock against Dorian’s as he deepened the kiss, only a thin piece of fabric separating their lengths.
And then as quickly as it had started, the kiss was ended by Kestrel, a smug grin on his face as he sat back. “Now, no touching without my permission, ma vhenan. Understood?”
Dorian nodded.
“Wonderful,” Kestrel praised, patting Dorian’s stomach as he worked his way off of him. He knew what he wanted to do next. “Lift your legs and bring them to your chest,” he said, walking to the end table without keeping an eye on Dorian to ensure he complied. He knew he would without even looking.
Opening the drawer, Kestrel prayed at least one vial of lube was still present. If they’d left everything else intact, surely...He rifled through the contents and found what he was looking for. When he returned to Dorian, Kestrel took a moment to appreciate the new position Dorian was in.
Legs doubled over, Dorian held them against his chest, slightly spread to keep from trapping his cock and balls. It blocked the view of his perfectly chiseled abs, but exposed his equally muscular ass and his hole. Everything was hairless which shouldn’t have surprised Kestrel as much as it did. At least it gave him a clear view of his target.
Kestrel set the vial next to Dorian, unused for now, and ran one dry finger over Dorian’s hole, enjoying the soft moan he released even with such a light touch. He added a second finger, brushing over the spot again, and watched Dorian’s cock twitch.
“Kes,” Dorian said, voice soft and strained.
Freezing his fingers in place over Dorian’s hole, he said, “It’s our wedding night. Do you really think I’m going to let you off that easily?”
Dorian huffed in frustration and squirmed, pressing against his fingers. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t enough to force them in. “You’re going to tease me again, aren’t you?”
Kestrel chuckled, tapping his fingers against Dorian’s hole in a playful taunt. “You know me too well,” he answered, dropping to his knees next to the bed, so he was eye-level with Dorian’s ass. Dorian had tongued Kestrel’s asshole before, but Kestrel had never been brave enough to try it himself. He had no idea what he was doing, but the thought of offering Dorian one of the few experiences they’d yet to share on their wedding night drove his curiosity.
Leaning forward, Kestrel kiss Dorian’s ass cheek, enjoying the way he stilled and then relaxed into the touch. Unable to help himself, Kestel bit down into the same flesh. The startled yelp and indignant “Kes!” he received in response was reward enough.
Still chuckling, Kestrel buried his face in Dorian’s ass before running his tongue along the same path his fingers had traveled.
“Oh...fuck.” Dorian moaned in appreciation, hands dropping to cup either one of his cheeks and spread them wider.
Licking up and down, Kestrel didn’t pay any special attention to Dorian’s hole until several passes later. He firmed his tongue into a point and probed.
Dorian’s reaction was explosive. His body jerked suddenly and then fell into a fit of barely contained trembles, desire-filled pants filling the air.
Unable to resist, Kestrel circled Dorian’s hole with his tongue before prodding again. Dorian quaked under him, a string of curses mingled with please and more replacing his more unintelligible response. The begging for more went straight to Kestrel’s cock, making him wish he hadn’t decided to keep his clothes on. He wanted to fuck Dorian right now, but he hadn’t even prepped him. No, he needed to wait.
Kestrel took a breather and rose higher on his knees to peer over Dorian’s spread legs.
Dorian’s pleas died down to a soft groan as his eyes fluttered open. Searching for the reason for the interruption, he found Kestrel’s gaze on him, and realizing his previous reaction, offered the shyest of smiles.
“Why didn’t you tell me you enjoyed having your ass tongued so much? I would’ve done it much sooner if I’d known,” Kestrel asked.
Dorian shrugged, the movement awkward from his position on the bed. “It’s not something everyone likes to do. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to. There are plenty of other sexual escapades I enjoy, as well, amatus.”
Kestrel glanced at Dorian’s purple-headed cock, a wide smear of precum all over his stomach. “Yeah, but nothing like this,” he said, running a finger down Dorian’s length. “Think you could come just from my tongue?” He looked up in time to see Dorian’s face flash red.
“Probably,” he muttered.
Kestrel grinned and started to lower back down until Dorian’s words stopped him.
“But I don’t want to, amatus. I want us to be joined. I want to come with you in me, like you’ve done for me countless times. ...If that’s okay with you.”
What would it feel like to have Dorian clench around him while he climaxed? Their first time, Kestrel was so nervous, he didn’t remember much of the individual sensations, just the experience as a whole.
“Force me to stick my cock in you. The nerve!” Kestrel said in his best Dorian impression, offering a wink to show it was a lighthearted jest. He rose to his feet. Without ceremony, he pulled his tunic over his head and hopped out of his pants, cock still proudly erect. Nothing had triggered his trauma. Maybe this plan was working.
He reached for the lube and uncorked the vial to pour some of the oil between Dorian’s cheeks and on to his hand. He watched the liquid slide down the already wet path as he fisted his own cock with his oiled palm. What a wonderful sight.
“Ah,” Dorian gasped, the oil sliding over his hole and past.
Kestrel stopped it in time with two fingers, pushing the liquid back up and following through to insert one well-lubed finger into Dorian’s hole.
“Fuck…” Dorian groaned, clenching around Kestrel’s finger.
His finger stilled as he lowered back onto his knees. Leaning forward, his finger curled to press against his sensitive spot while he kissed lightly along the spanse of skin between Dorian’s cock and hole.
Dorian hissed through his teeth, body arching off the bed.
Kestrel slid his finger deeper, as far as it would go, before pulling it back to the tip, brushing over that same spot. He thrust a few more times with one finger, watching Dorian respond with each prod, before he added a second finger. He met little resistance, Dorian already too lost in the pleasure to tense up.
Due to the angle of his hips, Dorian’s balls pooled around the base of his cock, and unable to resist, Kestrel lowered his mouth to the closest one, planting a soft kiss before sucking it into his mouth.
Propping himself up on his elbows, Dorian met Kestrel’s eyes, his own charcoal-lined widening with surprise.
Kestrel maintained eye contact as he swirled the ball around in his mouth, tongue caressing the hairless underside.
“You are...evil,” Dorian panted.
Kestrel inserted a third finger to show just how evil he truly was.
With a loud and long moan, Dorian threw his head back, flopping back onto the bed, and he writhed in pleasure. “Kes, I’m going to...I-I…” he stuttered.
Oh no, not yet he wasn’t! Kestrel stilled, letting Dorian’s balls slip from his mouth as he righted himself. Slowly, so very slowly, Kestrel retrieved his three fingers buried deep in Dorian, staying clear of that special spot.
The frustrated noise that came from Dorian almost made Kestrel feel guilty. Almost. “What? Do you want to come from my fingers or my cock?” Kestrel teased.
“You...you know what I want,” Dorian said in between huffs.
His skin with flushed and dappled with sweat, making him the sexiest image Kestrel had seen in a long time. Kestrel wanted to lick each droplet off of his dark skin, regardless of the time it would take. He wanted to explore every inch of muscle with his tongue, teeth, and lips until Dorian begged him to do more. Fortunately, they had the rest of their lives together to fulfill his fantasies.
Kestrel took his cock in hand and rubbed the head against Dorian’s hole, drawing another whimper from the grown man, the magister. Dorian was one of the most powerful people in Tevinter and here he was whining for Kestrel’s cock. He was also the person Kestrel cared for the most, the person he loved with all his being, and Dorian had chosen him over everyone else in Thedas. He could of had anyone, and yet he’d picked a one-armed elf with no title, no value aside from the minor wealth he’d amassed with the Inquisition, but Dorian didn’t need money. He’d chosen him because of what he saw in Kestrel, during the good days and the bad. If that didn’t inflate his sense of worth, nothing would.
Dorian’s hole eagerly accepted his cock as Kestrel slowly, carefully pushed in. He paused when he met some resistance, allowing Dorian to adjust. Once he’d relaxed enough, Kestrel backed out to the tip of his cock before pushing forward again, thrusting deeper.
They groaned in unison, Dorian clenching around Kestrel as he managed to get nearly the full length in on the second thrust.
As Kestrel started pulling out, only to push slowly back in, Dorian grabbed a handful of the bedspread, back arching off the bed.
He was a glorious sight, shimmering in the candlelight, even muscle rigid and taunt. Kestrel reached out to his hand, forcing Dorian to loosen his hold on the blanket so he could slip his fingers there instead.
Dorian’s fingers closed around his, and Kestrel realized he wanted more contact than just their hands and the smack of his hips on Dorian’s thighs. Still inside Dorian, he kneeled on the bed and Dorian quickly shifted up to give him more room.
Kestrel leaned over Dorian and kissed him on his jaw, enjoying the feel of his stubble fighting its way back in. He felt confident enough for his next request, his body not failing him yet. “Touch me, Dorian. Don’t hold back,” he whispered.
With a joyous cry, Dorian threw his free arm around Kestrel’s shoulders and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. His legs curled around Kestrel’s waist, forcing his cock in deep and their bodies close together.
Their bodies trembled in unison with each thrust, each kiss, each caress. Neither would last long at the quick pace Kestrel established, cries and pants breaking through their locked lips. As the sensations started to stack and build towards Kestrel’s climax, he pulled away from their kiss and buried his face in Dorian’s shoulder, teeth clamping down. In the next moment, Kestrel crested his peak, spilling over and into Dorian with a muffled groan.
Disappointment immediately followed. He hadn’t even lasted long enough for Dorian to climax. He shifted his hips, sensitized cock twitching with Dorian’s every breath, yet Dorian’s leg-lock held firm, keeping his slowly softening cock buried deep in him.
Dorian did release Kestrel’s shoulders, shoving that hand between them to reach his own length and pumping away.
Realizing how close Dorian was, Kestrel offered a few thrusts with his rapidly diminishing energy. “Yes, you can do it, ma vhenan,” he praised quietly, putting the desire to see Dorian come all over himself behind is words. It was enough.
With a sharp cry, Dorian came on his stomach, sprays of cum reaching as far as his chest. He clenched around Kestrel in time with each spray.
Kestrel wasn’t prepared for the sudden influx of sensitivity. Nearly blacking out from the overwhelming sensation, Kestrel braced himself over Dorian, eyes shut against the stars.
And then everything relaxed and Kestrel could see again. He quickly jerked his hips to remove his softened cock and plopped down next to Dorian, still holding his hand.
“Kaffas,” Dorian breathed with a big grin, looking his way. “That was amazing.”
Watching him, Kestrel’s eyes welled with tears despite the matching smile on his face.
“Kes…? What is it? What’s wrong?”
Watery laughter answered before Kestrel could compose himself enough to say, “I just realized that this is the first time in my life I’ve been truly happy. During the Inquisition, there was always something hanging over our heads, threatening to pull us apart before we could reach this day. But we’ve won. We’re married. No matter what happens ahead, nothing can take that away from us, ma vhenan.”
Dorian brushed away Kestrel’s tears and leaned in. “Better together,” he murmured against Kestrel’s lips before kissing him.
***
The next several days were a whirlwind. Kestrel spent time with his friends from the reunited Inquisition each day, each afternoon with Dalish telling him more stories of his time in Skyhold, and returned to Dorian’s arms each night.
When it was their last night in Skyhold, a grand feast was held in their honor. At the end of the night, Sera and Dagna, trailed by the rest of the gang, presented Kestrel with a present. The gift was wrapped in cloth and ribbon, and as Kestrel fumbled with the ties, Sera said, “You’re a rightful prick, you are, but I still love you. This,” she gestured at the cloth, “is a present from me and the gang. We all chipped in whatever we could and Widdle put it together.”
Finally the last knot was worked loose and Kestrel tugged the wrapping off. A mechanical arm much finer than his previous one lay beneath. Wrapped in what appeared to be flexible dragon scales of blue and green, some with a yellow edge, the inner workings were concealed.
Kestrel carefully picked up the prosthetic, afraid one wrong move would break it, as he turned it over in his hand. The fingers flopped loosely with each twist.
“There’s no need to worry, Boss, Dagna had me chop at it with an axe and it held up. It’s not going to break.”
“If you don’t like the color, it can be painted,” Josephine said.
“I told them the Mistral dragon scales would match your eyes,” Dorian whispered from behind Kestrel.
“It’s beautiful!” said Dalish, reaching out to touch the scales.
“It should let you fire a bow again, Sera was very adamant about that,” Dagna said, elbowing her elf girlfriend in the side when she snickered. “I know the last one was a bit clunky, and I planned on making you a better one, but…”
“I’m sorry, Dagna. I should’ve responded to your letters.”
She patted him on his elbow, apology accepted.
“Do you wish to try it on?” Leliana asked.
Kestrel looked from the arm to her. “Can I?” He was careful not to get his hopes up. The last arm helped fill the void, but functionality was low. Sure, this one moved a lot easier, but how was he going to control it?
“Of course!” Dagna answered, hopping onto a chair so she could reach Kestrel’s shoulders.
Now it made sense that Dorian insisted he wear a sleeveless shirt. As Dagna wrapped the sling around his shoulder, he looked back at Dorian and mouthed a silent, “I love you.”
Dorian grasped his chest, dramatically tossing his head back like Kestrel’s love was too much for him.
Kestrel laughed.
“Quit moving,” Sera said and Kestrel stilled enough for Dagna to finish.
The prosthetic was heavy and would require adjusting his balance, but it was beautiful. The scales glimmered in the dining hall candlelight, blue melding into green with subtle streaks of yellow.
“Last piece!” Dagna said. She stood on her tippy-toes to attach a cuff around the top front of Kestrel’s right ear, next to his skull. “This is what allows you to control its movement. It syncs up with your thoughts. Just tap the cuff three times to activate. It has all the latest runes and enchantments in it, so it should work wonderfully. Didn’t have any armless people to test it on, though, so there may be a few kinks.”
Kestrel reached up and tapped the cuff. One. Two. Three. The arm glowed brightly for a brief moment, light bursting from beneath the scales before it simmered into a more subtle glow. Not the stealthiest, but he didn’t have need for that anymore.
He thought he’d try a simple command, tapping his fingers along the wooden table. He thought it, willed his left hand to complied, and after a slight hesitation, his fingers cascaded along the wooden surface. What was even more surprising was the fact that Kestrel could feel the sensation even though it was a mechanical arm.
His wonderment must’ve shown because Dagna saddled close and said, “The feedback must be working too! I was hoping it would, just didn’t have a way to confirm.”
And then Kestrel lost it. Tears started before he even knew they were coming. He’d thought he had everything he needed in marrying Dorian. Dorian made him emotionally whole, but this, this prosthetic made his physically whole again. If the arm was that responsive, and he could feel sensations, he might just have a chance of shooting again. It would take a lot of practice, but he had all the time in the world now.
Dalish hugged him, not knowing exactly why he was crying but comforting him all the same.
“Now you’ve done it, Widdle! The whatchamacallit made him cry!”
“That wasn’t me, I swear!”
“I’m sure he’s just a bit overwhelmed, is all. Let’s give him a moment,” Rainier said.
Dorian hand rested on Kestrel’s shoulder, giving him strength.
“Wait! Please, wait,” Kestrel pleaded through his tears. “I want to thank you all for this...this wonderful gift. I can’t imagine it was cheap, and I can’t imagine it was easy to make, and yet, despite how I’ve treated everyone in the last few years, you still did this for me. I’m sorry. And thank you.”
The hugs, well wishes, and lots of ale followed after, repairing the last of the damage he’d done through years of neglect. Dalish disappeared with Taeven before things got too rowdy. He was sent to bed with Dorian and a few slurred instructions from Dagna about letting his arm recharge overnight or it would “run out of juice,” whatever that meant.
After Dorian and Kestrel worked together to remove the device, they fell into bed together, too drunk and tired to do anything more. As Kestrel started to fall asleep, he realized his heart had never felt so full. Having friends that cared for you, a boy who meant everything to him, and a man that loved him more than anything else in the world, that was true happiness.
Weekly updates going forward until the story is finished. Find this fic in its entirety on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423880/chapters/52909252
I am sooooo bad about updating Tumblr. I’m sorry, guys! I posted this last week ^^; Commission done by the wonderful @istehlurvz which perfectly fits the wedding scene.
The next morning, Kestrel woke up alone, fingers ghosting over an empty space next to him in the bed. The sheets were cool to the touch. Dorian hadn’t been in bed for a while. With a disappointed groan, Kestrel turned over in bed to face the balcony. And Cole.
Kestrel jerked back, sitting up. Not only was Cole present, but another man stood beside him.
Kestrel clutched the sheets close to him, very aware of his nudity in front of the stranger. “Can I...help you?” he asked, embarrassed.
“He asked to see you. Given your intimate past with him, I didn’t think you would mind.”
Kestrel looked the visitor over and couldn’t deny the fact that there was something familiar about him. Between his long, dark hair with short shorn sides and gray eyes, he looked like he could be related to Dorian. And then he smiled.
Kestrel froze in horror. “You...it’s you!” He clutched the sheet to him tighter.
Cole frowned. “I thought it would be okay, but you’re not happy.”
“Of course I’m not, Cole! This….creature, he raped me.”
“We were both forced into a task we’d rather not do,” the non-Dorian said.
Swallowing hard, Kestrel forced himself to ignore the demon and continued addressing Cole. “He may be wearing a different face, but I recognize him as the demon he is.”
“He’s no longer a desire demon. Once his captor died, he was released from his shackles and returned to the Fade. There, he was able to regain his true form as a spirit of purpose.”
“Yes, which is why I wanted to see you, Kestrel. To thank you. You freed me with Master’s death. And to apologize. Being pulled from the Fade by force twists us, corrupts us. I was as much enslaved by my need to feed on your and Master’s desires as I was by the summoning itself. I regret the harm I caused you.”
Kestrel studied the spirit and judged him truthful, especially with Cole vouching for him. They’d both been slaves in that house, and the demon had never intentionally harmed him. “Alright, spirit. I...accept your apology. I’m sorry you were forced to participate in my torture. But forgiveness is not something I can offer you.”
The spirit smiled sadly. “I understand. Then I will take my leave.”
As he started to dissipate, Kestrel reached out and said, “Wait!”
Gray eyes fixed on him again, the spirit’s head tilting to the side. “Yes?”
“When you said I had no purpose except for Dorian, was that the truth?”
“Some purposes are small and others are large. They’re always changing, but they’re all important.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Making this man, this Dorian happy, would that be such a terrible purpose? You know the truth. Now, you just need to figure out how best to accomplish your purpose.”
“He’s happiest when you’re happy,” Cole said.
The other spirit nodded before popping out of existence.
“But I just want him to be happy, Cole. It doesn’t matter what I want. I’m already lucky enough that he’s accepted me back after...everything. If he wants a big wedding with lots of strangers, who am I to argue?”
“His partner. You’re his partner. You should tell him what you want.”
Kestrel sighed. “You’re right. Can you do me a favor?”
Cole smiled. “Yes.” And then he disappeared.
Kestrel took his time alone to climb out of bed and throw on one of Dorian’s robes and began pacing. What would Dorian say if he spoke his mind? When had he ever been worried about speaking his mind to Dorian, though?
“Amatus?” Dorian said with a tone that indicated that wasn’t the first time he’d spoken. “A little spirit told me you were looking for me.”
“Where were you?” Kestrel asked, unable to keep the accusatory tinge from his words.
Dorian shrugged off the tone and smiled softly. “I was catching up with Cullen, and then Bull joined us at the table for breakfast. I kept an eye out for you but never saw you come down. They’re all eager to see you again, you know.”
But would they be just as eager to be around him after seeing what he’s become? And why was he upset that Dorian was seeing their old friends instead of staying glued to his side? It was an unhealthy expectation.
“Do you know who paid me a visit while you were out?”
Dorian frowned and shook his head.
“The demon who...who…” Kestrel buried his face in his hand. Why was he even telling Dorian this? He knew it would upset him. He knew it would cause him guilt for leaving his side.
He spotted the clenching of Dorian’s fists and the darkening of his expression. The smoldering fireplace, reduced to mostly ashes, flared to life with Dorian’s rage.
Kestrel spoke before Dorian could vent his anger. “I...I’m sorry, ma vhenan. I feel like I’m falling apart and you’re the only one who’s holding me together. Even then, I feel like I don’t deserve you. Just like I don’t deserve their friendship. But I’m too selfish to give you up. Them, on the other hand, I’d rather they keep picturing me as the Inquisitor, as the Herald who wasn’t reduced to a pathetic waste after we parted ways, as the leader who wasn’t enslaved and branded. If they see me now…” Kestrel leaned against his desk, avoiding Dorian’s gaze and instead focusing on the stain glass doors closed against the cold.
“Everything in these past several months has been a whirlwind. I don’t know who I am anymore, only that I want to be with you. I’m clinging to that like a lifeline and was starting to get my footing, but here, at Skyhold, I’ve lost it again. I’m torn between who I was and who I am now. They’re very different people. Is it terrible that I only want our wedding to be us? I don’t want to focus on anyone else. If only you and I stand beneath the Creators during the bonding ceremony, you’ll have no choice but to see the person I am now and to either accept or reject that person. If there are others, you may fall into your usual facade to appease them; follow what they want for you.”
Dorian embraced him then. He wrapped his arms around Kestrel so tightly, there was a minor worry about cutting off his air. “Nothing can change the fact that I am determined to marry you, but I realize that coming here to do that wasn’t the best idea. If you want something small and intimate, I will make it happen, but that doesn’t mean that you should sequester yourself up here and avoid our friends. They’ve missed you, and I can assure you that, as your friends, they won’t judge you for what’s happened. That’s what friends are. Take me for example. I stepped into their midst as a Tevinter magister, a rogue mage from the most hated of countries, and while there was some hesitation at first, they accepted me. People warm to you in a heartbeat still, Kes. These are your friends, nothing has changed that.”
Kestrel buried his face in Dorian’s neck, breathing in his sandalwood scent to calm himself. “I...If you think it’s for the best, I suppose I can meet them again,” he murmured.
“Look, if it’s too much, too fast, let me—”
A tentative knock interrupted them.
“Dorian, did you…?”
Dorian pulled away, holding up his hands. “It’s not me, I swear.”
“You may enter,” Kestrel called out.
“Kestrel…?” asked a smaller voice.
Kestrel immediately recognized it, but there was no way…
Dalish’s head poked up from around the stairs, hesitation quickly shifting to joy as soon as their gazes connected. “Kestrel!” He cried and sprang forward, tackling Kestrel in the next moment.
Kestrel fell to the ground with a joyous laugh, hugging Dalish close. “What are you…?”
“The strangest thing happened,” another familiar voice said, and Taeven cleared the stairs.
“Tae…?” Dorian asked. “I thought you couldn’t take so much time away from running the Minrathous manor and the countryside estate.”
“The plan was to remain behind, but somehow your friend, Solas, heard about our desire to be with you, despite the time constraints, and planned travel arrangements. I’m not exactly sure how he had us travel since we were blindfolded, but it took only a day of travel to reach this place.”
“You saw him?”
“Only briefly. He had an elvhen escort us here, but he wanted to wish you a wonderful wedding. And he said, ‘Despite evidence to the contrary, I want you to be happy, Kestrel. Use what time is left to enjoy one another.’ ...He’s not the elvhen god bent on the destruction of Thedas, is he?”
Dorian frowned. “That’s the one.”
“That was Fen’harel? The Fen’harel?”
Kestrel nodded.
“I thought he felt a bit...wolfy,” Taeven said with a silly grin.
Dorian and Kestrel groaned while Dalish giggled.
“Enough of him, although we’ll happily accept his gift of having you two with us,” Kestrel said, hugging Dalish again.
Dalish returned the hug before climbing to his feet, bouncing on the balls. “Can you show me around? I’ve never seen a castle like this before.”
“What a wonderful idea! Kes, you should introduce Dalish to our friends. Since Taeven’s here, I’m going to enlist his help to shift a few plans around. That is, if he doesn’t mind.”
Taeven placed a hand on Dorian’s shoulder and squeezed. “Of course not. I’m all yours.”
“Oooo, yes! I want to meet Bull and Sera and all the people you’ve told me about! Please?” Dalish clasped his hands in front of him and put on his best pout.
Kestrel rolled his eyes at the obvious manipulation, but still grinned. “Twist my arm!” Standing up, he took Dalish’s hand in his. He knew this is exactly what Dorian wanted, to get him out of the room, but facing the Inquisition group didn’t seem as daunting with Dalish by his side.
***
Before Kestrel knew where the other days went, the day was upon them.
As was the custom, Dorian and Kestrel separated for the evening. Kestrel spent the night catching up with Dalish, listening to the tales of his first several weeks at the Circle, too anxious himself to think about sleep. Even when the boy tired and fell asleep with his head in Kestrel’s lap, his mind spun with what was to come. He ran his hand through Dalish’s hair to soothe himself.
At some point deep into the early hours of the morning, Kestrel must’ve fallen asleep for when he woke, Dalish was gone and morning light angled through the east-facing windows. He sat up when he thought he heard Dorian’s joyful laugh down the hallway, but it soon faded.
Taeven had been quite insistent that they remain apart for the night and day leading up to the ceremony, so their reunion was as special as it should be. Still, was he just supposed to wait in the tower room all day?
Growing restless, Kestrel hopped out of bed and started pacing. He had no idea what he was supposed to wear today. Each step raised his anxiety level until he was looking at the bedroom door like it was his only escape route. What if he tried the handle and it was locked like the Pavus Manor? What if his prison had only changed designs?
With a panicked whimper, he ran down the flight of stairs to the door. Just as his fingertips brushed the handle, the door swung open to reveal a happy and then suddenly startled Taeven, not expecting him to be right there.
As soon as his eyes met Kestrel’s, he must’ve seen the panic there for he quickly said, “Aneth ara. It’s okay. Calm, Kes. Breathe.” Although his hands were full of clothes, he quickly slung them over his shoulder to take Kestrel’s shoulders in hand. “What troubles you?”
His mind went to one person. “Is Dorian okay?”
“A bit nervous, as you appear to be, and grumbling about a sleepless night. Something about sharing a room with a snoring bull?” Taeven shook his head like he didn’t understand.
“And Dalish?”
“Your boy is fine, Kestrel. Last I saw, he was following your blonde-haired elf friend around.”
Kestrel winced. Hopefully, he didn’t get into too much trouble with Sera. At least, Dalish had hit it off with everyone the other night, and his presence had the added bonus of redirecting most of the attention away from Kestrel.
“Is there something else that’s worrying you? Your friends certainly seem happy to see you again,” Taeven said as he led Kestrel back up the stairs.
Yes, that was true. And no one had pressed him for details on what he’d been up to over the last few years, yet he had a sneaking suspicion by the pitying glances he sometimes caught, Dorian had told them some of what had happened. Despite that, he’d quickly reform the neglected bonds with Varric, Bull, and the rest of the gang over the last few evenings. Vivienne and Solas were the only two of the old Inquisition companions that were unable to attend. Vivienne had a prior engagement, and Solas, well…
Kestrel realized Taeven was staring at him, likely waiting for a response. He tried to give a voice to the anxiety he was feeling. “I’ve just waited for this day for so long. So long, I’d come to believe it would never happen. Now that it’s here, I’m waiting for something to stop it.”
“Kes, I want you to leave the worrying to me, okay? You’re in a safe place, surrounded by people who love you and who support you. Nothing will go wrong, and even if there is a minor hiccup, we have plenty of hands available to help out. Now, I’m having a bath and food brought up, and you’re to take as long as you’d like to relax. After that, I will return to help you get dressed. I think you’ll like the outfit Dorian had made,” Taeven said, gesturing to the clothes he’d laid out on the bed.
“And Dorian…?”
Taeven smiled. “You’ll see him soon enough. I promise.”
***
The rest of the day passed slowly and quickly. At one point Kestrel dozed in the tub and lost and hour, while after he dressed in the outfit Dorian picked for him, he waited for what felt like ages for Taeven to arrive.
He’d already paced on to the balcony, leaving the door open for the sun-warmed air to freshen his room. There was lots of noise around the Keep, happy noises, but he was too far up to spot any details. If the amount of people running around down below was any indication, Kestrel was concerned his request for a smaller ceremony had been ignored.
He took the crawling time to examine himself in the mirror. Dorian had managed to find him a traditional Dalish robe of leather dyed a beautiful ocean blue. Underneath the robe, an earthy brown set of cloth pants and tunic ensured he wouldn’t overheat, even with woven leather shin guards, a bracer, and a matching belt. Fortunately, there were no shoes to go along with the outfit, leaving Kestrel’s feet blessedly bare.
A golden collar and pendant with the same leaf design from his wedding band sat to the side. The jewelry would have to wait until he had some help, he decided. As if summoned from his thoughts, a soft knock heralded Taeven’s return.
As he cleared the stairs and caught sight of Kestrel, he froze, hand lifted to his lips to hold back a small gasp. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful,” he quickly corrected. Tears collected in his eyes. “Dorian is going to be dumbstruck when he sees you, Kes.”
Kestrel flushed furiously under the praise. “You think so?”
Taeven nodded his head. He glided to Kestrel’s side, picking up the golden collar to secure it around Kestrel’s neck.
“How did he even know what was traditional Dalish garb for a bonding ceremony?”
Taeven grinned. “I may have had a part to play in that. Despite having to pull away from your people for their protection, I know you still honor their customs.”
The collar latched into place, and Kestrel was surprised it didn’t surface unpleasant memories. Still, he thought the decoration was odd and couldn’t hold back a question. “What about the collar? That’s definitely not Dalish.”
“It’s a Tevinter custom. Both parties wear a collar to signify their unwavering loyalty and servitude to one another in marriage.” Taeven draped the necklace around Kestrel’s neck as he spoke.
“And the pendant?” Kestrel asked, holding it up to get a better look. Two snakes entwined around each other, framing a large emerald.
“A wedding present from Dorian. You know how he loves his snake motifs.”
Kestrel smiled.
Taeven stepped back, tears fresh in his eyes again. “Well, my boy, are you ready?”
The setting sun cast a warm glow over the courtyard. Despite the chill always present in the mountains, a jungle of plants flourished under the tender touch of the resident gardener. Flowers of all hues tilted towards the fading light, filling the air with a delicate, familiar fragrance. A breeze rustled the plants and stirred the stillness, releasing a gentle tinkling that Kestrel immediately recognized.
Crystal grace draped the outer stone walls of the gazebo, their pale blue bells enchanted into a harder shell that chimed with each movement. Dorian had once presented him a bouquet similarly enchanted, and Kestrel had fallen in love with the delicate bloom. Leave it to Dorian and his steel-trap mind to never forget a detail like that.
Under the gazebo stood a sight that dwarfed all others in beauty. More wonderful than the friends gathered to witness the ceremony, more magical than the dim sunlight glimmering off the crystal flowers, and more stunning than the fact that Kestrel would be a married man in the next hour. The sight of Dorian waiting for him with a glorious grin on his face stole Kestrel’s breath away, freezing him under the overhang to the main keep.
The typical black and gold hugged Dorian’s form, but his outfit lacked the dramatism he normally wore in Tevinter. A dark robe with golden borders was tied close by a wide cloth belt embellished with embroidered peacock feathers. Golden bracers taped down billowing sleeves around his wrists, and a metal collar that matched Kestrel’s completed the look. In that moment, Kestrel desired nothing more than to sprint Dorian up to their room and slowly peel off each garment to reveal Dorian’s true beauty beneath.
“Kestrel?”
Summoned from his dirty thoughts by Dalish’s soft prompt, Kestrel flushed, shifting his gaze to the boy before him.
Dalish offered a bouquet of unenchanted crystal grace. “Dorian said they were your favorite,” he said. “They don’t like the cold, but with the gardener's help, I managed to keep them alive for today.”
The sky-colored flowers were still as perky as if they had just been picked. The magenta stamens swayed as Kestrel took them in hand and brought them to his nose. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, letting the fragrance take him back to a time before all of his trauma. He gathered his strength from back then, his bearing, his easy laughter, his naivety, and coiled them around him like an invisible shield. He could do this.
Opening his eyes, he smiled at Dalish and said, “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
The smile he received back pumped more fuel into his strength. On a whim, Kestrel asked, “Mind walking me down the aisle, Dalish?”
“Yes! I mean, no! I mean...I would love to!” Dalish struggled to answer, but his even wider grin spoke volumes. He quickly grabbed Kestrel’s arm, linking them together. “Are you ready?”
Kestrel looked past their friends, down to the gazebo, to the man patiently waiting for him. “Yes,” he said simply.
Chest puffed with pride, Dalish began marching them down the stone path of the courtyard, following its meandering trail.
“It’s about time,” said Sera.
Right after, Bull yelled, “Made us wait forever, Boss!”
“Still, makes for an excellent tale,” said Varric.
Several people snickered in response.
Kestrel grinned, but his eyes were firmly rooted on Dorian growing ever closer.
Dorian tracked him along their path, steady gray gaze holding everything Kestrel needed to see. There was no judgment to be found, only reassurance, acceptance, forgiveness, and love. They could have ended the ceremony right there, and Kestrel would have had all that he needed, all that he longed for in his life.
As soon as Dalish passed him over to Dorian and their hands touched, the ceremony breezed by. It wasn’t important, only the way Dorian looked at him was. Kestrel remembered Divine Victoria leading the ceremony and rambling on his half of their shared vows, but he lost himself in the soothing gray of Dorian’s tearful eyes, in how warm his hands were when they exchanged rings, in the sound of is voice choked with barely restrained emotion. And then his lips were on him, celebrating with joyous tears christening the kiss.
Kestrel threw his arm around Dorian’s shoulders, bouquet still in hand, and kissed Dorian with every ounce of love he had. They were married. Nothing would keep them apart now. Not life, or death.
Warning: depression, memories of past trauma, NSFW - mutual masturbation
Weekly updates going forward until the story is finished. Find this fic in its entirety on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423880/chapters/52591321
Realized I forgot to post this here so it’s a bit late!
The next several weeks were exhausting as Kestrel worked to rebuild his body that had wasted away. Although he added weight back, he felt lighter and lighter with each passing day, his burdens sloughing away as his body and mind healed in the bright house surrounded by those that cared for him.
He had a constant companion, normally Dorian and Dalish, but sometimes Alvinius or Taeven. Even Atronis hovered in the background at times, although usually only if Alvinius was near. Kestrel didn’t miss the fleeting touches or warm glances they shared, and he found himself hoping something more would grow between the two. It would be a welcomed, happy ending for those two to fall in love with each other after suffering through their own unrequited love.
***
It took a week before he could bathe himself without Dorian to fret over him, two before he could walk unaided.
Dalish pumped healing magic through him with every small touch, even sharing the bed with him and Dorian to keep a trickle running into him, much to Dorian’s increasing displeasure. They kept their own touches chaste in Dalish’s presence, plus they knew Kestrel didn’t have the strength for anything strenuous.
Even the nightmares seemed to sense his exhaustion and stayed away, although that was likely due to Dorian wrapping his arms around Kestrel each night, allowing him to shelter in his warm embrace, and Dalish holding onto his hand even through sleep.
Three weeks later, in the crowded house, they all sat around the table as Taeven cooked a savory stew in a pot over the hearth. Tomorrow they’d be parting ways. Alvinius was traveling back to Nessum, and Taeven and Atronis were moving back to Minratheous with Dalish in tow to begin courses at the Circle.
Kestrel’s studied the boy, smiling to himself at the quick, open grin he gave to Atronis during whatever deep conversation they were having. Several nights ago, Dalish and Dorian were having a similar conversation. From his position in bed, Kestrel watched them discuss what to expect as a First Year at the Minrathous Circle, heads bowed together in front of the hearth.
As the conversation progressed well into the night, Dalish’s reluctance to leave was eroded by an eagerness to learn, and Dorian didn’t hesitate to sponsor him, impressed with the boy’s untrained healing magic. With Kestrel’s approval to seal the deal, Dalish trembled with barely contained excitement every time he had a chance to pepper Dorian with more questions. Or Atronis. Probably what they were discussing now.
A bowl of stew was placed in front of Kestrel, and the savory, familiar scent pulled him from the memory. “Venison stew?” he asked, eyes wide.
“Someone may have mentioned it was your favorite,” Taeven said with a grin, eyes darting over to Dorian.
“And you have plenty of deer in the woods around your house. It was easy to shoot one down,” Alvinius chimed in.
Kestrel didn’t miss the nervous glance Dorian sent his way, wondering if he’d be upset by the mention of archery, but he only smiled. He was thankful for all that he had now. Even if he’d lost an arm and was just a normal elf again, nothing would make him regret what got him here.
Not to be ignored, Atronis grumbled, “Well, I helped with the vegetables.”
“Yes, and you did such a good job with it,” Alvinius said, rubbing his arm.
“I helped too!” said Dalish.
Atronis smiled and ruffled his shaggy blonde hair. “You’re a good helper, kid.”
Kestrel was filled with such love for those at the table, even Atronis. Life was too short to carry his grudge forever. Plus, the punch to Atronis’ face likely helped past transgressions be forgiven.
Feeling the need to voice his affection, he said through eyes bright with unshed tears, “Thank you all. For everything.” He raised his wooden cup in a toast. “To getting here, despite the odds.”
Everyone chimed in and clinked wood on wood before taking a drink.
They sat around the table until the hearth fire simmered and several empty bottles of wine sat forgotten on the table, chatting about the future.
Alvinius and Atronis left leaning heavily on one another, Alvinius whispering with a naughty smirk on his face while Atronis blushed. Alvinius’ pleased chuckle echoed down the hallway as they departed.
Taeven retired shortly thereafter to his own room while Dalish tailed Kestrel and Dorian to their’s. Once ready for bed, they all piled in together. Kestrel knew this was his last night with Dalish in a while, and held him close. Even Dorian didn’t complain about the boy sharing their bed that night as they all fell asleep together.
***
The next morning, after all of their visitors had departed in a flurry of tears from everyone, Dorian and Kestrel were left with a silent household. Loneliness gnawed at him without Dalish at his side, without hearing Taeven making his rounds to light the household candles and pull open the curtains, without Alvinius’ loud laugh and Atronis’ deep voice.
With a soft sigh, Kestrel turned his head to gaze upon Dorian still asleep. Still, even with an empty house, didn’t he have everything he dreamed of right in front of him? His eyes traced Dorian’s features, soften with sleep. Dorian slept completely naked. He thought celebrating having the house to themselves with nudity would cheer Kestrel up. He wasn’t wrong. Dorian’s muscular figure was still a feast for his eyes.
Still, even over Dorian’s gorgeous body, Kestrel loved Dorian’s unkempt appearance the most. His polished, flawless daytime looks always turned heads, but his appearance became a wall to hide behind. No, when his hair was in disarray, and his mustache was unfurled, that’s when Dorian was truly perfect. Very few people got to see Dorian with his facade lowered, and Kestrel was special enough to be one of those few.
This was the man he was going to marry. Suddenly, their marriage couldn’t happen soon enough. He longed to see his wedding band on Dorian’s finger, claiming him as his own, silver against his golden skin, standing apart and marking him.
Dorian’s eyes fluttered open, catching him in mid-thought. “Mm...like what you see?” he said, voice deep with sleep.
“Always, ma vhenan .” Kestrel brushed a few strands of Dorian’s silky hair off his forehead. “I’m ready.”
Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Ready for…?”
“To get married.”
“Oh?” Dorian sounded pleased, scooting closer. “What were you thinking?”
“A...wedding?”
“Oh, amatus , I love that you’ve still managed to maintain some of your naivety. Weddings can be as grand as the Empress’ ball at the Winter Palace.”
“When my Clan did a bonding ceremony, it was a small gathering of those that knew the couple. Nothing fancy.”
“But this is Tevinter, amatus . We can make our wedding bigger!”
Kestrel’s gaze dropped. “Do you even think people would come to our wedding?”
“You still don’t realize how much you’re loved, do you, Kes? People would fill up the entire Winter Palace to see you again, never mind watch you get married.”
“But I haven’t kept in touch with anyone since…” A wave of horror and embarrassment washed over Kestrel. “And Sera! She has no idea…!”
Dorian smirked. “Oh, she knows. And she’s quite pissed at you for leaving her out of everything, including your faked death. She made that quite clear in her last letter.”
Kestrel groaned and thudded his forehead against Dorian’s chest. “She’s going to murder me.”
“Not if we get married in a big castle with lots of guests! She’ll have no opportunity to.”
Kestrel frowned. “You mean Skyhold?”
“Of course! We can invite our friends from the Inquisition and get married in the courtyard where we shared our first kiss.”
Dorian looked at him with the most pleased smile Kestrel had ever seen him wear and he couldn’t refuse, even if the thought of standing before so many people again twisted his stomach into knots. “Sounds lovely, ma vhenan .”
“What about Dalish and Taeven? Think they’d be able to make it? They’re the only family we have left,” Kestrel whispered. Dalish was like a younger brother or son to him, and Taeven was definitely a father figure to Dorian. It felt right to have them present.
Dorian tensed beneath his touch, and Kestrel realized they’d never discussed Dorian killing his own mother. Every moment had been focused on Kestrel’s health, and Kestrel felt horrible for neglecting Dorian’s own trauma.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry it ended the way it did. With your mother, Dorian. I wish there’d been another option.”
“Me too, amatus , me too.” Dorian inhaled deeply, Kestrel’s head rising with the movement and falling with the exhale. “As for your question, I’m not sure Dalish could spare that much time away from the Circle, especially in his first year. Taeven also has the Minrathous house to run and the countryside manor. A trip to Skyhold will take weeks upon weeks away, and I’m not sure he’d be able to leave for that long.” Noticing Kestrel’s deepening frown, he quickly added, “But I will ask him. Now, how soon would you like to be wed to me?”
“If we leave tomorrow, we can be there in several weeks,” Kestrel said in all seriousness.
Dorian laughed, hearty and happy, chest becoming a precarious place for Kestrel’s head.
Sitting up, Kestrel frowned down at Dorian. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because, you are so terribly precious,” Dorian said as his laughter quieted. He watched Kestrel with his beautiful gray eyes, edges still crinkled with humor. “Can you give me a few weeks’ time to make the arrangements?”
Kestrel blushed. Tomorrow? Where’d that come from? He still needed the ring from Taeven for Dorian. He’d received word it was ready, but it was too precious to travel by messenger. Taeven wanted to bring it himself. “Yes, in a few week’s time, then,” he said, nodding his head.
A weird expression crossed Dorian’s face, one Kestrel couldn’t quite place. “What’s that look for?”
“I really want to kiss you right now.”
Kestrel’s eyes dropped to Dorian’s lips. “So what’s stopping you?”
“I don’t want to push you too far too fast. You’re too...accommodating sometimes, Kes, and I’m worried you won’t tell me ‘no’ even if you’re not ready.”
They’d shared many kisses since the move to the house, but they were always soft, hesitant things, and now Kestrel knew why. “Oh…” Another topic they’d yet to discuss. “Well, I’m fine, Dorian. There’s no need to worry about...that.” To prove it, Kestrel suddenly kissed Dorian before he could protest.
Dorian hesitated for a moment until Kestrel’s tongue flicked over his lips, begging entrance. After that, Dorian couldn’t resist, and his body rose up to meet Kestrel’s, chests pressed together as his hands grabbed at Kestrel’s bare back.
Kestrel sucked on Dorian’s tongue, pulling a needy whimper from the man and sending his nails digging into the scarred skin of Kestrel’s back before dragging down. Although they didn’t pierce his flesh, the scored lines reminded him of Morven’s violent whippings after everything had gone numb. Normally, Kestrel loved the feel of Dorian’s nails, and he tried to focus on the memory of pleasure, pushing the lingering torment aside.
Still distracted, Kestrel squeaked when hands cupped his ass and pulled him on top of Dorian. His legs settled naturally to either side of Dorian’s hips as they parted for air, lips still hovering close.
“ Kaffas , I’ve missed you,” Dorian said softly before lowering his mouth to Kestrel’s collar bone, planting a string of kisses there.
Enjoying the flurry of kisses, Kestrel buried his hand in Dorian’s hair and held him close. He could do this. He could grant Dorian whatever he desired even if his own body didn’t feel up to responding. That wasn’t asking too much, right?
Not liking his attention elsewhere, Dorian bit into his shoulder in reprimand.
The whimper that left Kestrel was laced with fear. The feel of teeth on his skin reminded him too much of the dragon tearing into his flesh.
Dorian didn’t sense the change in his tone, because his teeth dug in again, marking and possessive. Normally, Kestrel enjoyed their rougher play, but now it only quickened his breath and caused him to freeze.
Dorian’s hands slid slow, pressing Kestrel’s hips down against his hard cock. His hands shifted around and squeezed Kestrel’s ass cheeks, spreading for his cock to rub in between.
Panic seized him and his body started to tremble. Dorian’s hands were bigger than Harrier’s, but the demanding fondling was too much too soon. This is what he wanted! He argued against his body’s reaction, but he couldn’t persuade it to cooperate, or at the very least, tolerate Dorian’s questing.
“No!” he blurted out. Suddenly his body was free to move and all of that frozen energy exploded into action. He yanked himself from Dorian and tumbled back onto his side of the bed, eyes wide and breath rapid.
In the next moment, he sprang off the bed as Dorian reached for him, hand grabbing air. “I-I need some air,” he mumbled, grabbing one of Dorian’s robes and fleeing the room. Dorian didn’t chase after him.
***
For the next several weeks, Dorian was soft smiles and light touches, never asking for more and never touching on the subject of that night. Kestrel knew Dorian knew exactly what had happened. He’d pushed too far, and Kestrel had let it go too far, both ignoring his growing discomfort. Exactly what Dorian feared would happen.
Still, Dorian blessedly acted like Kestrel shooting out of bed at the thought of sex was normal. Instead, he shifted their conversations towards their upcoming wedding. What decorations did he want? What did he want to wear? What about their vows? Dorian promised he take care of everything, all Kestrel needed to plan was what he wanted to say that day when they exchanged rings.
What could he possibly say to the man that had given him his purpose in life? He held the silver band in his hand as he pondered that question, turning it over and over between his palm and thumb. At least Taeven had been able to bring by the wedding band. He handed it over with tears in his eyes, sad he couldn’t travel with them, but so pleased that they were finally getting married.
A serpent coiled around the band, etched out of its delicate surface with a care and precision Kestrel had never seen except in the design around his own ring. A small diamond was embedded for the snake’s eye, catching the light. It was perfect. Not as flashy as most of the rings Dorian wore, but more precious than all of them combined.
Kestrel packed it in a secure spot in his luggage, ready for the trip to Skyhold.
***
Kestrel was not ready for the trip to Skyhold, especially the journey across the Waking Sea. Dorian spent the several day journey seasick, swinging between bouts of cursing everything in his sight and heaving into a bucket in their room. Kestrel was a bit green himself but directed his energy towards caring for Dorian and ensuring he was never too dehydrated.
At one point, delirious and sweating from dry heaving for hours, Dorian said, “If I die here, know that I’ve willed all of the Pavus fortune and estates to your name, Kes. You will want for nothing.”
“What? But Taeven would be a better inheritor than me!” Kestrel protested.
Dorian groaned and bowed heavily over the bucket in response, ending that conversation.
Always dramatic, Dorian may have felt like he wasn’t going to survive, but they both landed on the far shore in Fereldan alive and thankful.
Kestrel vowed to bring up the inheritance topic again once they’d had time to recover.
***
Unfortunately, that time never happened. News of their arrival traveled faster than they did and their journey the rest of the way to Skyhold was surrounded by crowds of people looking for the Herald of Andraste who had once saved them. By the time the gray fortress was spotted on the horizon, a painful headache plagued Kestrel, conjured by dark thoughts.
The last time he’d been here, he’d been whole. He’d been a better person. He’d been a leader; someone for the people to look up to. Now he was a branded man with more scars than unmarred flesh, both physically and mentally. Thank the Creators for Dorian’s recommendation of a carriage instead of traveling by horseback. It gave Kestrel a curtain to hide behind.
Dorian tried to ease the pounding of his head, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs over Kestrel’s hand held between his, but nothing could quell the reminder of inadequacy that surrounded him like the high, impenetrable walls of Skyhold.
When their carriage pulled through the gates, more familiar faces swarmed close, closing in on Kestrel. He couldn’t face them, not right now. He was not the man he was back then, kind and happy and playful. He was a shell of Inquisitor Lavellan, buried under the secrets and trauma that had occurred until there was barely anything left. He couldn’t let the people, and even worse, his friends, see how far he’d fallen.
As soon as their carriage jerked to a halt and the door was opened for them, Kestrel panicked. He stealthed and blindly barreled out of the carriage, following the familiar path up the stone stairs, into the keep, threw open his door, and darted up to his old room, the Inquisitor’s room. It sat exactly as he’d left it.
He’d expected it to be changed somehow. Surely, in the last two years someone had needed to re-purpose his water basin or borrow a book, but even the stack of papers he’d left out before the trip to Halamshiral sat unevenly stacked with a dried quill resting on top.
Kestrel ran his fingers over the wooden surface of his desk, remembering many long nights spent sitting behind it and several passionate moments spent on top of it or bending over it. Someone had at least been in to dust and tidy, but they’d left everything as they found it. It was a time capsule, reminding him of what he’d accomplished and how different he was from the elf that saved Thedas.
His eyes snagged on the scarred skin of his forearm, the pale peacock feather burned into his flesh a stark contrast to the rest of his tanned arm. What was he doing here? He should’ve never come back. Let the people remember him for who he was, rather than be disappointed with who he is now.
Kestrel sneered in disgust, stalking towards the balcony, through the Dalish motif glass door left open to air out the room. Skyhold, summer or not, always carried a chill in the air. His balcony faced the blustery west, mountain wind cutting right through his thin tunic and leggings.
Cold gripped his nose and cheeks, turning them pink, and still Kestrel stood out on the balcony, overlooking everything he’d forfeited. It was a mistake to come back here.
“Here you are! I’ve been looking--Kes?” called a soft voice behind him.
Kestrel didn’t want the reassurance Dorian likely had to offer, so he ignored him until his steps indicated he’d turned and left.
Crumbling against the banister, Kestrel slid to his knees, face buried in his arm as he sobbed.
A warm blanket enveloped him, draped over his shoulders, and pooling on the ground.
“I didn’t think about how hard it might be to come back here. I’m sorry, Kes,” Dorian said, his hand rubbing soothing circles on Kestrel’s back through the heavy blanket. “I think you’ve punished yourself enough for the time being. How about a bit of a reward for making it here in one piece?”
Kestrel sniffled, stubbornly keeping his face hidden in his arm.
“I promise your enjoyment.”
Kestrel could hear the smirk in his voice. Curiosity won out over self-pity and he turned his head enough to look at Dorian.
“There you are.” Dorian ran his fingers through Kestrel’s hair, a pleased smile on his face. “The reward won’t do out here. How about you come to bed?”
Night had snuck in and the chill in the air had turned dangerous. Kestrel didn’t realize how frozen he was until he tried to rise, body stiff and slow to respond.
“Maker’s breath, amatus ,” Dorian chastised as Kestrel stumbled and he quickly reacted to catch him. “How long have you been out here?”
Not long enough if he could still feel everything, disappointment included.
Dorian helped him over to the bed before turning back around and closing the doors. With a wave of his hand, the fireplace lit and started a battle against the chill hovering in the room. “Can’t say I miss the cold of this place.”
Kestrel huddled under the blanket.
“Now, off with your clothes,” Dorian said, shrugging off the decorative robe he wore over his shirt and pants.
Kestrel flushed, eyeing Dorian warily. Just what did he have planned?
“I promised your enjoyment, but your clothes need to be off for that to happen. Do you need help removing them…?” Dorian’s eyebrow arched toward his hairline, questioning.
Kestrel’s blush deepened, but he met Dorian’s gaze with defiance. He dropped his cocoon of warmth and pulled off his shirt with one yank. Next, he shimmied out of his leggings, hesitating at his smallclothes.
Sensing his reluctance, Dorian said softly, “You can leave those on.”
Wrapping his arm around his bare torso, Kestrel stood at the foot of the bed, tense and uncertain.
“Lie on your stomach,” Dorian said, walking beside the bed to open up the bedside table. He removed a vial of oil, the contents sloshing slowly as he rolled the tube between his fingers.
Doing as ordered, Kestrel lay face down on the bed, turning his head to track Dorian’s movements. As soon as Dorian opened the drawer and withdrew the oil, his gut clenching with apprehension. Did Dorian really plan on fucking him right now? If he thought about, it had been several months since they’d been reunited with no sex. Aside from their time apart, that had to be the longest they’d ever gone. He couldn’t keep holding out on Dorian. Even if he wasn’t sure he’d be able to enjoy it, at least Dorian could. Trying to look pleased, Kestrel reached for his smallclothes.
“Leave those on,” Dorian said nonchalantly as he set down the tube.
Confused but obedient, Kestrel let his hand fall to his side, as he watched Dorian remove his rings one-by-one and placed them on the bedside stand, gray eyes fixated on Kestrel.
When Kestrel’s ring was on Dorian’s finger, would he leave it on all the time, or take it off with the rest? He hoped it stay on all the time, forever marking him as Kestrel’s. That thought made him blush, the possessiveness shifting his nerves into a low-key arousal instead.
“I always know when your thoughts turn naughty, Kes. Your blush gives you away.”
Kestrel felt the warmth in his cheeks spread to the tips of his ears.
“Still, it doesn’t matter what untoward thoughts are running through your mind right now, we won’t be doing that tonight,” Dorian said, picking up the oil again. He removed the stopper and dribbled a bit of its contents along Kestrel’s back.
The oil was warmed, likely magicked that way. It slid along Kestrel’s back unaided with the smallest squirm.
“Are you okay with me straddling your hips, amatus ?”
Kestrel snorted. “Of course.” Except they both knew his bravado was false. He couldn’t keep the tension from his shoulders as Dorian slowly moved into place. Dorian sat at the small of Kestrel’s back, thighs pressed against his sides.
“Let me know if anything makes you uncomfortable,” Dorian said and waited for acknowledgement before commencing.
His first touch was firm and deliberate, palms pressing into Kestrel shoulder blades. Dorian’s thumbs dug into the muscle framing the bone, catching on the knots wound tight with tension. The model of patience, Dorian focused on each tight bundle, taking as much time was needed to loosen each one before moving on to the next. Warmth seeped from his hands, soothing away any lingering tension.
Kestrel couldn’t deny the appreciative groan that left his lips when Dorian worked out one particularly stubborn kink in the area between his neck and shoulder. His arousal deepened with each firm touch, cock hard and trapped between him and the mattress. Another knot dissolved and other soft noise also worked itself out.
Kestrel could only imagine the way Dorian’s muscles were coiled with the strength needed to push all the tension out of his back, skin shining and slippery with oil. The next moan that left him had shifted into something more primal, more desperate.
He wasn’t the only one feeling the shift in mood, because unless Dorian had sprouted a third hand, something entirely different was pressing against his lower back.
“Dorian…” he groaned into the bed.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” Dorian whispered reverently. He must not have meant to say that out loud, because he quickly covered it up with a jest. “Some might call me jealous.”
Kestrel felt Dorian climb off of him, sorry for the loss of the familiar weight pressing against him, and quickly propped himself up on his arm to find him again.
Dorian had only moved a respectful distance away to the edge of the bed, loose pants tented against his eager cock. Finding Kestrel staring at him, he canted his head to the side and said, “I’m sorry, Kes. Touching you gets me all worked up. Maker’s breath, and those noises you make.”
Kestrel couldn’t keep Dorian suffering because he couldn’t commit to sex again. Not yet. As much as his body wanted to, his mind refused to let him enjoy any sexual touches, but that didn’t mean Dorian had to suffer. Maybe there was a way.
“I want...I want to see it,” Kestrel said softly, almost too embarrassed to ask.
Dorian’s eyes widen a small fraction before he readily stood and undid the tie to his pants. Released, they slid down his legs and he stepped out of them, keeping his eyes on Kestrel.
Dorian’s cock was magnificent but mistreated, head purple with the desire for release but denied repeatedly. Precum beaded on the tip, and for a brief moment, Kestrel imagined closing the gap and licking it right off. Perhaps he could give a blow job without losing his erection. Perhaps not. He hadn’t been able to sustain an erection since his rape, and he wasn’t willing to gamble spoiling the mood, or the tension that hung in the air between them.
Kestrel shifted on to his side, exposing his matching erection and offered a hesitant smile when Dorian’s gaze jumped down to it and back up to his, questioning.
“What’s next?” Dorian asked.
“I want to watch you jerk yourself off.” Would he agree?
Dorian closed his eyes, brow furrowed, and Kestrel worried he’d disappointed Dorian.
“You really have no idea do you? How fucking desirable you are?” Dorian opened his eyes, but they were heavy with lust. His hand took hold of his cock, and still slicked with oil, stroked once, twice. “I’ll wait forever for you, amatus .” He kept their gazes locked while he fucked into his fist.
Kestrel swallowed hard, watching the scene before him. Without even realizing what he was doing, he took his own cock in his hand and started stroking.
“Mmm...yes, Kes. You look even better touching yourself.”
Kestrel flushed under the praise and continued with a renewed vigor. Honestly, he was happy his cock hadn’t betrayed him yet.
Dorian’s hand slipped beneath his shirt and the thought of him toying with his nipple, of that nub of flesh growing hard under his touch, pushed Kestrel closer to the edge. The familiar sensation of being near climax tightened his gut, the need for release growing.
“You’re doing great, amatus . I’m so close.”
Kestrel rolled onto his back and paused his jerking off to run his hand down his chest in an open invitation.
Dorian groaned and climbed up on the bed, kneeling next to Kestrel.
Watching Dorian’s hand pump up and down his hard length, pace quickening, Kestrel’s hand attempted to match his own pace, almost like it was his hand getting Dorian off.
Dorian’s balls tightened and contracted a moment before he cried out, cumming. Several strings of his cum arced through the air and landed on Kestrel’s chest, while one went a bit off course and landed on Kestrel’s cheek. It was a lot of cum. Dorian had been denying himself.
To think that Dorian would wait for him, even in his own release, warmed Kestrel more than his own arousal. This man truly loved him, and he didn’t doubt for a moment Dorian’s words when he said he’d wait forever. He needed to overcome his trauma so he could stand beside Dorian with his head held high.
Dorian sat back on his feet with a slow, satisfied grin. “Come for me, Kes,” he said, voice begging more than demanding.
Surely that was the least he could do for Dorian, right?
Kestrel looked down at the cum draped along his chest. He’d made Dorian come undone without even touching him. That thought carried him to climax, and like a wave breaking through a wall, he came undone. With a long groan, streaks of cum decorated his chest, his spunk mingling with Dorian’s.
The feeling of relief at being able to climax for the first time since his trauma was heady. Kestrel beamed at Dorian, unable to restrain his pride, and Dorian was right there to reward him with a deep kiss. When they finally separated, Dorian plopped down next to Kestrel, thumb brushing the line of cum on Kestrel’s cheek.
Kestrel turned back on his side and snuggled close to Dorian, disregarding the mess on his chest.
Dorian kissed the top of his head and murmured, “You’re going to be okay, Kes.”
For the first time, Kestrel actually believed him.
Weekly updates going forward until the story is finished. Find this fic in its entirety on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423880/chapters/52317766
Time passed strangely after that. Snippets of conversation flitted through his consciousness.
“It’s been a week and there’s been no response.”
“I know that, Tae. Did you send for the boy? Dalish?”
“Yes, but it’ll likely be another week before he arrives. I sent a messenger to Atronis and Dalish as soon as we had word of their location, but that was only a few days ago.”
“Kaffas. Maybe that boy could help heal Kes more than what I’ve been able to do. I fear…” Dorian’s voice choked off.
“He’s taking fluids for now. That spell would have killed him if you hadn’t killed Aquinea when you did. Because of you, Kestrel has a fighting chance. His body just needs time to heal.”
A hand roughly grabbed Kestrel’s and lifted, pressing it against a tear-stained cheek. “Fight, Kes. I need you to fight for me, for you...Please.”
Dorian sounds like he was in so much pain, and Kestrel longed to acknowledge his touch, but no matter how hard Kestrel willed his eyes to open, they refused. The darkness soon pulled him back under.
~~~
A sickenly sweet scent stirred him from his slumber. It was the same scent from the Pavus House baths. Had his escape been a dream? He knew he was in the house that broke him down, that revealed to him the worthless, useless elf he was.
He struggled to move but couldn’t.
“So helpless, little bird.” A hand ghosted over his cheek. “No fight left in you, hmm?” The sheets were pulled down and the hand continued its path down his chest.
A second hand closed around his throat as a new voice spoke. “I should’ve killed you the first chance I had. Proceed as you see fit, Harrier.”
“With pleasure,” he purred, hand dancing lower and lower.
Kestrel’s mind screamed, but his body was useless. Unresponsive.
The hand tightened and tightened, cutting off his air supply even as Harrier fondled him.
Mercifully, unconsciousness barreled towards him, and Kestrel welcomed it this time.
~~~
Tense hands gripped Kestrel’s, a trembling thumb brushing along his knuckles. It paused at his ring, running over the warm surface. “Kes, I’m sorry I put you here. So many ‘what if’s’ run through my mind at night as I lie awake. What if I’d stayed with you instead of returning here? What if I allowed you to come with me at the start? What if I killed my mother after realizing she was the one who wanted me dead? None of this would’ve happened. You would be healthy, happy, and whole. I know I don’t deserve you after everything I’ve put you through, but I need you to keep fighting. Please. I can’t lose you again.”
Kestrel tried to squeeze his hand to let him know it was okay, that he didn’t hold any of what happened against Dorian, but his body remained frustratingly unaware to his commands.
A huge blast of air jolted Kestrel awake. He could sense something large standing over him, scaled snout sniffing. Another large exhale bathed him in the stench of decaying carrion and something more putrid.
Kestrel had no trouble remaining still, praying the beast passed him by.
A slimy tongue slide along his shoulder and up his neck, leaving a tacky trail.
His throat seized as a whimper tried to escape, heart hammering harder and harder in his chest before it stuttered to a stop.
~~~
“Kestrel!” cried a small, strained voice before a smaller body slammed into his, despite the echoing protests from the others in the room.
At first, Kestrel was worried the creature had returned, but small hands grabbed him. Those didn’t belong to any evil beast waiting to feast on him, yet he was cautious of hoping for anything better until he felt Dalish climb into bed with him and nestle close. Tears dampened his shoulder as a familiar warmth spread through the rest of Kestrel’s body, repairing the damage Dorian was unable to heal.
Unable to open his eyes, Kestrel still basked in the warmth and love from Dalish, the nightmares pushed back to the corners of his mind.
Dalish, exhausted from the magic use and his trip, and Kestrel, worn from the healing itself, slipped into a deep sleep together.
Unfortunately, the horror of his trauma could only be kept at bay for so long. The nightmares returned in force, punishing Kestrel for the short moments of respite. They plagued his every waking moment, unable to move, but able to feel every cut, every bite, every violation.
~~~
“I don’t understand. He should be awake by now. His body is healed,” Taeven muttered.
“But his mind...he has bad nightmares from when Mast--Morven hurt him.”
A strong hand clasped Kestrel’s, finger brushing over the golden band. “So what ails him may be more mental?”
“Kestrel is strong, Dorian. He’ll fight this and come back to us. I know it.” Dalish sounded confident.
Several voices agreed, offering up similar sentiments.
“Amatus, please, come back to us.”
I’m trying! Kestrel insisted, even though no one could hear him.
“Dalish?” Someone gently shook him awake, jostling Kestrel into consciousness too. “You should come to dinner.” Kestrel recognized Alvinius’ voice. It was disorienting. Had Kestrel left Tevinter or had Alvinius traveled all the way here, risking recapture?
“But Kestrel…” Dalish protested, clinging to him.
“You should let him rest, mon cher. Let’s get some dinner, and we’ll visit him again in the morning, okay?”
Dalish pressed a kiss to Kestrel’s cheek and whispered, “I’ll be back after dinner. No one can stop me.”
His departure left a cold void next to Kestrel.
“You’re trapped.” Cole’s voice spoke to him in his mind. “Your mind knows you’re back in the place of your torment. It’s trying to protect you, shield you, but if you don’t fully wake soon, you’ll die here, Inquisitor. I tried to take those painful memories away, but they resist like there’s a shield around them.”
Cole. He tried speaking with his mind, knowing if anyone could hear him, it’d be Cole. Cole. Try as hard as he might, he couldn’t get Cole to acknowledge his attempts.
“I hope this is not the last time I can visit you,” Cole said sadly before his presence disappeared.
No, he refused to die here in the house that saw him brought to his lowest, surrounded by the sickly sweet scent of bottled flowers.
~~~
Kestrel ignored Corypheus’ visit even though he whispered horrible things into his ear as he clawed at his flesh. It wasn’t real. That mantra played over and over in his mind. He needed to ignore the torment and focus on his surroundings, listening for his next visitor. He knew he’d have to put every ounce of his energy towards communicating, so he waited and conserved his strength.
Slow steps walked toward him, before they stopped. The noise of a chair being repositioned next to him and a heavy body slumping onto its padded surface followed.
A warm hand took hold of his, squeezing. “Kes,” Dorian said, sounding so very tired.
Kestrel longed to kiss Dorian’s pain away, to rub the tension from his shoulders, and curl up in bed with him, but he was trapped in his own body.
“It’s been over two weeks and you...you haven’t changed. Your body is deteriorating before my eyes, and I feel so helpless. I need some sign from you. Something, please. Anything. Open those beautiful blue eyes for me,” Dorian pleaded, tears dampening his tone.
Dorian pressed his forehead against Kestrel’s hand, and tears steadily dripped onto Kestrel’s cool skin.
Kestrel tried desperately to pry his eyes open. He focused on Dorian’s pain, using that as fuel to get his body to cooperate. He pushed, he pulled, he urged, he begged and nothing. Not even a twitch of his eyelid. Even if his eyes wouldn’t open, maybe something else would work with him.
He moved to his mouth where his tongue felt like a slab of lead, immovable. His lips remained as firmly shut as his eyes, and he couldn’t manage even a flick on his tongue.
Then surely his hand would cooperate! Dorian’s skin felt extra hot against his cool flesh. Kestrel soaked in the warmth and the tears. Just one finger twitch would be enough to convince Dorian he was there and listening. He focused so hard for so long, he was jarred from his attempt when Dorian pulled away with a sniffle.
As Kestrel’s hand fell the short distance to the bed, his finger curled, but Dorian was already out of the room. A meaningless victory.
There was no escaping his prison. After everything he’d been though, after everything he’d fought for, he was still going to die with Dorian barely out of reach.
~~~
Sunlight hit Kestrel’s face, pulling his mind to the present. It lit up his closed eyelids, filling his blocked vision with a warm pink. How long since he’d felt the sunlight on his skin? Slipping his awareness around him, Kestrel realized he was seated on a padded cushion, and by the way his body swayed, he was in a carriage.
Firm arms surrounded him, holding him tight against an equally firm chest. Dorian.
“Before you leave me, amatus, there’s a place I want to show you. As best as I can.” The sadness in his words broke Kestrel’s heart.
“He’ll know,” Dalish said nearby, probably seated across from them.
“I just…” Dorian sighed. “It’s a risk moving him, but if this is his end, I didn’t want him to die in that house. He deserves to be somewhere peaceful. It’s not quite ready, but I don’t think he’ll last long enough to see the completion.”
“He really loves you, you know,” Dalish said softly, repeating what he’d told Kestrel not long ago.
Dorian nuzzled against Kestrel’s neck, whispering, “I love him. Terribly.”
Kestrel felt so weak, so useless. He knew his body was failing him as much as Dorian said so. Consciousness came to him less and less as the days passed, and he’d given up hope of ever being able to wake up again.
Might as well allow himself this fleeting moment of alertness to bask in the warm light and Dorian’s even warmer love.
Kestrel came around again in a field of grass, the cool blades grazing his arm, legs, and neck. Songbirds chirped overhead before the shrill cry of a kestrel silenced them. And there were so many smells to pick through, flowers, manure, hay, fresh hewn wood. Was he on a farm or near a stable? He couldn’t be sure, but the grass and gentle breeze mingling the aromas together indicated he was at least outside.
Dorian laid down beside him, touching as much of their sides together as possible. “This was going to be our home. I started building it after I made my first jaunt back to Tevinter before...everything with Solas. I already knew I was going to propose and hoped you’d join me up here. And then my father died and our relationship fell apart. I had it worked on for a while, enough to get the house finished, and then forgot about it. As best as I could.
“And then you arrived in my life again, Kes. For a short time, I thought we still might be able to move here. I had the men start working on the property again, building the stable, setting up a garden, everything I knew you’d love. Even after my...mother sunk her claws into you, I knew I’d find a way to get you out of there. There was no other option. And then you died.
“I thought about coming here and setting the whole place on fire, throwing my body on the flames, but that was a bit too dramatic, even for me.” Dorian took a shuddering breath. “And then miracle of all miracles, you returned to me again. Just for me to watch you wither away.”
Dorian had built them a house and now Kestrel was going to die without ever seeing it. Rather than the usual disappointment or depression that haunted him, anger simmered in his gut, growing into an inferno of rage. He’d had everything taken away from him since a young age. He’d been forced to give and give and give. Was it too much to ask for this small gift?
“I know you’d love it, Kes. There’s a forest on the backend of the property for hunting, if you’d like. And a garden where you can grow whatever vegetables and herbs you want. The stables are for your hordes of mounts. I heard Dennet still has most of them in Skyhold, but here you can be reunited with them again.”
Dorian shifted onto his side and draped an arm over Kestrel, pulling him close. He buried his face into Kestrel neck and murmured, “I just need you to come back to me and all of this will be yours. Is it too much to ask for just one more miracle?”
Mythal was the protector but also the goddess of vengeance, and Kestrel swore that he would not allow Aquinea to win in the end by keeping him away from Dorian. The fury within Kestrel blossomed and bloomed into something fierce and torrential. It tore through his body, boiling his blood and leaving aching, tired muscles in its wake. But they were no longer frozen. For the first time in weeks, when Kestrel willed his eyes open, they responded.
Shocked, Kestrel froze, eyes wide as he stared into the blurry, sun-shielding boughs of a large tree overhead. His eyes immediately filled with tears against the brightness of his surroundings. Still, now was not the time to retreat back into his prison, it was time to burst forth.
Kestrel parted his lips, tongue heavy but responding enough for him to croak out a faint “Dorian,” voice weak with disuse.
There was a delayed response, as if Dorian didn’t quite believe what he heard after wishing for it for so long. At last, he reacted, cautiously sitting up, but once gray eyes met blue, he cupped Kestrel’s face in his hands. “Kes? Kes, is that…? Maker’s breath, you’re awake!” Still holding on, grip tight, he turned his head to the house and yelled, “He’s awake!” There was a cry of surprise in response before Dorian turned back to Kestrel and pressed his forehead against his.
“You have to stop scaring me like this, amatus, it’s not good for my heart,” Dorian blubbered through fresh tears.
Kestrel worked a weak smile to his lips and swallowed. “I love you,” he said, voice still dry and raspy.
The pattering of small feet heralded Dalish’s arrival only a moment before he dropped to his knees and threw his arms around Kestrel and Dorian. He was crying too through a big grin, overjoyed with the fact that Kestrel was awake and responsive.
Once the emotions lowered to a simmer, Dalish said into their embrace, “We should get him inside and see if we can get him to eat something.”
“Yes, yes, right you are.” Dorian scooped Kestrel up in his arms like he weighed nothing. He probably didn’t after wasting away for several weeks.
Dalish grabbed his dangling hand.
As they turned towards the beautiful house of Dorian’s creation, Kestrel could only focus on the beaming Taeven, the tearful Alvinius, and the relieved Atronis waiting at the entrance. He finally felt like he was home.
Kestrel used the last bit of his energy to squeeze Dalish’s hand and snuggle against Dorian’s chest, falling asleep to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
***
Kestrel woke much later after night was in full swing. He found himself in another unfamiliar room, another unfamiliar bed, with someone sleeping beside him. Before full panic could set in, the warm form next to him shifted and turned over, revealing Dorian. With the sight of his sleeping face, the memories of the past few weeks came back to him. Snippets of conversation playing around him without the ability to respond. Although his eyes were open, what if his body was paralyzed? Almost too afraid to try, Kestrel focused on closing his hand into a fist. While he didn’t have the strength to lift his arm up, he could feel his fingers ball together. His body was weak but responsive. Still, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get out of bed on his own which left him to stare at the wooden beams in the ceiling, tracing their unfamiliar pattern with his eyes.
Dorian inched closer, sensing his disquiet. He wrapped his arm around Kestrel’s waist and kissed his shoulder.
Kestrel tensed, worried he’d ask for more, knowing he was incapable of giving him more, unsure he was worthy of more. Fortunately, his worrying was for naught. Dorian’s breath deepened as he fell back asleep, leaving Kestrel alone with his thoughts.
As the room darkened, fire in the hearth burning low, so did his thoughts.
Morven stood over him, limp dick in hand. “My, my, what would your people think of you now seeing your brought so low? Better yet, what would Pavus think, seeing you covered in my piss, kneeling obediently before me? Think he’d be awed or disgusted?”
Morven had broken him down more thoroughly than he thought possible. That was only possible because of how weak he was to begin with. How quick had he been to beg for forgiveness? How quick had he been to fall submissive by Morven’s side, letting everyone take what they wanted from him?
The demon shifted into view, leaning over Kestrel to whisper in his ear, “My my, you truly have no purpose in this life, do you? You’re driven solely by your desire to be with that one man.”
Everything Kestrel did was for Dorian. Why when such a man should want nothing to do with him? Dorian was his life, and yet he caused Dorian so much pain in the last several months. How could that be healthy for him?
Kestrel blinked as tears filled his eyes and Aquinea replaced the demon to echo his doubts. “But what do you have to offer him now, Inquisitor? What makes you think you’re even worthy of his attention? You’re nothing now. You hold an empty title. You have no land, no people. You don’t even have two arms! He’s the one with the position of power. And if he were to actually marry you? He would get nothing but ridicule and disgust. You have to know your insignificant presence is nothing but a detriment to whatever lofty goals he hopes to achieve.”
“You know, I thought about having Morven cut off your finger to remove the ring since it’s so stubbornly affixed, but then I thought, what better way to remind you what you’ll always be unworthy of?”
Aquinea was right. He had nothing to offer Dorian, and he’d only hold him back. Why did he think he could save Dorian when he’d be the one to bring him ruin in the end?
“Banish whatever dark thoughts are swirling around in your head,” Dorian said softly.
Startled, Kestrel jerked his head to the side, sending his vision swimming and tears falling.
“Oh, amatus,” Dorian murmured, lifting himself onto his elbow to brush away Kestrel’s tears. “You know, when we were discussing what you wanted for yourself in the Winter Palace, and I answered with a joke? I should’ve been serious. I should’ve told you that my home is with you. Wherever you decide to go, I will be there. Whether you choose this house or somewhere else, I will be there with you.”
The location didn’t matter, what mattered is that they couldn’t share it. He didn’t deserve to be with Dorian. Now was the time to end this.
“I don’t think we should get married, Dorian,” Kestrel said, trying to put as much strength into his words as possible.
Dorian blinked, an uneasy grin rising to lips, unsure if this was some cruel joke. “What? Why ever not?”
Kestrel pulled his face from Dorian’s hold, staring at the ceiling again. “I’m nobody. You...you’re perfect. And what you’re doing in Tevinter is amazing. ...I’m not worthy of you. I’m not worthy to stand by your side, Dorian. I’m useless...I can’t even provide for us.”
He was corrupted. Sullied. Perverted. Unworthy of Dorian. Now more than ever. He needed him to know that he had an out. He had no obligation to him.
“Amatus.”
That one word still made his heart clenched every time he heard it. He remained turned away, hoping Dorian would say it one final time before they parted.
He needed to get everything out before Dorian stopped him. “I was the reason you were tortured. I was the reason you had to kill your mother, Dorian. It’s unforgivable. Do you really want to be stuck with me for the rest of your life?”
“Kes, look at me.”
Unable to resist the pain in his voice, Kestrel turned back to Dorian.
“That wasn’t your fault. That was hers,” Dorian hissed. Fury dying down, he continued with a softer voice, “While I’m flattered you think I’m so grand, you have to stop putting me on a pedestal. I’m hardly as perfect as you claim, despite what I want others to believe. Forgetting the fact you saved all of Thedas for a moment, you’re someone to me. We both have our flaws, but you’re perfect to me. I know you’ve been through a lot, and it will take a while to put the pieces back together but know that I want to marry you as soon as you feel strong enough. All I need to know in return is this...Kestrel Lavellan, will you stand by my side?”
That was all it took to break him again, to knock down his insecurities and make room for his deep-seated selfishness when it came to Dorian. One heartfelt request.
Kestrel started crying again, too weak to refuse. This was all he ever wanted. To marry Dorian, to live in peace together; it was being offered up to him, and he didn’t have the will to refuse. “Yes,” he sobbed, and Dorian embraced him.
Weekly updates going forward until the story is finished. Find this fic in its entirety on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423880/chapters/52082938
Despite the blindfold, Kestrel knew when he was back in Tevinter. The heat rushed him in one aggressive burst of air, tosling his hair and distracting him enough to stumble over a stone. His guide took his arm and continued to lead him through the darkness.
Branches and leaves caressed his face and body, forced apart by their path. As they continued walking, the din of crickets rose from a soft chirp in the distance to a crescendoing welcome. His guide finally paused and removed his blindfold, gesturing forward into a field of waist-high grass, yellowing with the strain of a hot spring.
Still, Kestrel couldn’t help but glance at the young forest behind them. An eluvian would be a useful tool for the Inquisition remnants, but chances were slim he’d find it. Solas made sure of that. Besides, his path was forward, towards Dorian.
A loud snort drew his attention to a pale mare chomping on the grass, rein lashed to a low branch on the outskirts. When he looked to his guide for permission to use the horse, she’d disappeared without a sound.
****
It took a day of careful travel, dipping off the main road when the occasional traveler neared, hiding under his hood despite the late spring warmth, to reach the outskirts of the Pavus countryside manor. The flow of people gave away its proximity first. Carriages of finely dressed nobles formed a line down the road, filled in by those of lesser birth on horses with clothing just as rich. Whispers of the Pavus heir finally settling down flitted through the traffic, encouraged by laughter and smiles. It was a joyous occasion for all involved and an excuse for the top tier of Tevinter to gather and celebrate.
Kestrel pushed his horse in and out of the crowd. Fortunately, most seemed too lost in their gossip to notice a plain garbed man on a horse, dismissing him as someone’s errand slave.
Despite being surrounded, Kestrel felt alone. He was the only one here that truly knew Dorian. He was the only one here to see if this was truly what Dorian wanted for himself. At least, he’d made it in time, in time to stop the ceremony is necessary.
Weaving deeper through the crowd, Kestrel feared his noisy heart thudding in his chest would turn heads. The desire to see Dorian again threatened to overwhelm him, to force him to shout from his horseback that this was wrong. He knew in his heart that Dorian was marrying the wrong person. He and Dorian deserved to be together, and now he had another chance -- No, that’s not why he was here. Maybe Dorian had already forgotten him. Maybe this marriage was a chance at a normal life for Dorian, one he never thought possible.
That thought summoned tears to Kestrel’s eyes. It would kill him to see Dorian with someone else, but Dorian’s happiness was worth more than his life.
Blinking away the tears, Kestrel pushed his horse out of the line and off the road and urged it into a gallop, not caring what glares or glances it earned him. He overshot the house, running past the backlog of people waiting for entry, and slipped to the woods behind the manor, the same woods he and Dalish had fled through the night of his faked death.
Kestrel slid from the horse’s back, offering her an absentminded pat, before he stealthed. A single-mindedness overtook him, propelling him towards Dorian like a hound on a scent trail. So desperate was he to see Dorian again, he nearly crashed into a guard on the edge of the forest. Fortunately, the man was too busy drinking from a flask to notice the swaying bushes as Kestrel stumbled into the clearing.
In the open field, two large tents were set-up on one side of the field while chairs and an elaborate arbor stood near the pond, on the other side. Guests were being seated or mingling around the raised platform, paying their respects to the proud mother. He watched the people parade around, but didn’t spot the familiar swagger of the man he loved. If Dorian had been with the other people, Kestrel would’ve noticed him. That meant he had to be tucked away in one of the tents. Or in the manor. Hopefully, one of the tents. He never wanted to enter that house of torture ever again.
He hurried over to the far side, praying no one noticed the movement of the grass in his rush. Reaching the closest tent, he circled around, listening for whoever might be inside. A pleased giggle rang through the air, followed by several agreeing laughs, none of which belonged to Dorian. This must be the bride’s tent, the woman that was supposed to take his place beside Dorian. Kestrel knew none of this was her fault, and yet, he couldn’t help the feeling of jealousy that welled up within. Even if Kestrel was able to stop Dorian from going through with the wedding, even if Dorian was stupid enough to accept him back into his life, even if Dorian still wanted to marry him after everything, they would never have it easy. Never as easy as a man marrying a woman.
A bit more subdued by the thought of the odds lining up against him, he headed towards the other tent. Within a few feet of the enclosed canopy, voices forced their way through the heavy fabric walls.
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this, Dorian. He’s gone, there’s no need to continue with this farce of a wedding.”
“You think I’ve forgotten that, Mae? You think I’ve forgotten what it was like to hold his still-warm body in my arms? You think --” Dorian’s voice cracked and Maevaris was quick to soothe him.
“I’m sorry. This just...it doesn’t make sense to me. I think you’re punishing yourself for a problem you could never solve. You won’t be happy married to her.”
“How do you know that? Maybe finally being on my mother’s good side will change things between us. And who knows? Having a child, someone that loves you unconditionally, might make my life worthwhile again. Atria is a lovely woman. She’s intelligent, kind, which mind you, in Tevinter is a rare occurrence, and open-minded. She understands my past and is willing to work through it with me. She also has the added bonus of being approved by my mother, despite being a member of our Lucerni group.”
Dorian actually thought his life might be better with this woman?
“She’s a powerful mage, sure, but she’s not…”
“A man?” Dorian retorted, words bitter.
“The Inquisitor. She’s not Kestrel.”
“He’s dead, Mae! There is no Kes anymore. I’m just so tired of fighting everyone and for what?”
Kestrel could hear the raw agony in his last words, and it drew him closer, pulling him around the corner of the tent. Dorian sounded like he’d given up.
“I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret,” Maevaris finally said, voice soft with understanding.
“It’s too late for that. This is...this is what I want, Mae. It’s a chance at happiness. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to be appropriately sloshed before this affair, and I’m not quite there yet.”
A chance at happiness? Kestrel clutched his chest. He’d forced Dorian here. For all the blame he’d dumped on Atronis, he was the one who’d backed Dorian into this corner. If this was what Dorian wanted, wasn’t it best to let him be? Still, he couldn’t come all this way without catching a glimpse of him. Fighting through his heartbreak, Kestrel crept closer, noticing one side of the enclosed canopy was lifted, allowing air to flow through the space. The tent was too dark to see anything within.
“I’ll love you no matter what, okay?”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
Maevaris exited through the raised side, pausing once to glance back the tent with a pensive frown before making her way to the guests.
“Finally…” muttered Dorian.
Now was his chance. One glimpse of Dorian, and he’d leave him to the life he desired. Like he said, it was a real chance at happiness.
Slipping into the tent was simple, and Dorian was too preoccupied with the drink tray to notice any subtle shifting of the air. A black cloak hid his form, high collar obscuring his face from Kestrel’s current angle. His hair was pulled back into a simple tail, gold sparkling among the free length.
Dorian’s back was to him, hunched over a table with a glass decanter of some dark liquid. Most likely his favored brandy. Except he wasn’t focused on pouring anything, which was odd.
Kestrel snuck around to the side to find out what Dorian was doing. He was momentarily distracted by the bare expanse of skin that greeted his inquisitive gaze. The cloak squared off his shoulders in a hard line, edges meeting right below Dorian’s throat. Underneath, he wore nothing save a pair of loose, black pants held up by a golden scarf. The length of unclothed, muscular skin left Kestrel’s mouth dry and cheeks flushed. So flustered was he, he tripped over his own feet. He stumbled a few steps before catching himself, thankful for the rugs underfoot to muffle what would’ve been a noisy stumble through grass.
Focus, Kestrel told himself. I mean, who goes half-naked to their own wedding? Kestrel’s thoughts strayed, aroused and irritated at Dorian’s blatant exposure.
Unaware of Kestrel’s struggles, Dorian opened a small, wooden box, retrieving a handful of dried mushrooms. Using a knife within reach, he chopped them up into leathery scraps before gathering them anew in cupped hands and dumped them into an open kettle, still steaming. His golden bangles chimed merrily throughout his movements. Dorian placed the lid back on the kettle and settled into a plush reading chair at the table, toying with a tea cup while his tea seeped.
Except no one made tea from mushrooms.
Creeping closer still, Kestrel peered into the unattended box of leftover mushrooms on the table. They were flat-capped and a dull and lifeless gray. Kestrel recognized them as Blightcap mushrooms, extremely toxic if consumed. One of the kids of Clan Lavellan had found some in a nearby cave and thinking them one of the edible deep mushrooms had eaten his fill and died shortly after. What was Dorian doing making a tea of them? It’d kill whoever drank it.
Dorian poured a muddy brown mixture into his cup before holding it between both hands, staring into it as steam clouded his vision.
Kestrel’s stomach twisted in realization. Oh no...he wouldn’t, would he? But he’d said he wanted to try for a chance at happiness! Unless that was a lie to get Maevaris to leave him alone for this very reason.
“I’m sorry I failed you,” Dorian whispered into the cup before bringing it to his lips.
Desperate to stop him, Kestrel leapt over the table, swatting the cup from Dorian’s hands before his momentum landed him on top of Dorian, sending the chair tipping backward and them both tumbling on to the ground. Kestrel continued to roll a few feet out while Dorian still sat in the tipped chair.
“What…? Who?” Dorian sputtered, quickly rising to his feet, hand ablaze with magic.
Kestrel pulled himself onto his hand and knees, rear to Dorian, hood fallen over his head in the tumble.
“State your name or, so help me, I’ll set your ass on fire!”
“What in the Void were you thinking, Dorian?” Kestrel reprimanded. Terribly pissed, he flopped onto the ground, rear first, so he could glare at the dumb man.
“...Kes? No. Impossible. You’re dead.”
Kestrel shook his head, hood knocked back to his shoulders. “I think the bigger issue here is you were trying to kill yourself!”
“Did I succeed…?” Dorian asked, touching his arms and then his face. “Definitely didn’t imagine I’d be getting yelled at by my dead partner first thing after crossing the Veil.”
With an irritated huff, Kestrel said, “You’re not dead, but you would’ve been if I hadn’t knocked that poisonous tea from your hands! Again, what the fuck were you thinking?”
Dorian frowned, muttering, “It was supposed to have a more immediate effect, but the vendor did warn of hallucinations. Oh well, proof it’s only a matter of time, I suppose.” He righted the oversized chair and settled into it. As he leaned his head against the high backing, he said, “I thought it only fair, you know. Why, afterall, I left you back at the Winter Palace. It’s only fair you’d leave me. I don’t blame you for,” he paused, grimacing as he searched for the right word, “leaving the way you did. After all the tortures you were put through.” He shook his head. “Perhaps you thought about following me to Tevinter all those years ago. Know that I’ve thought about following you into death these past few months. They’ve been torture, Kes.” His voice broke and he hid his face behind a hand, yet tears slipped past, making fast trails down his cheeks.
Dorian still thought he was dead, some apparition sent to haunt him or some ill effect of the poison. “But I--”
He continued, despite the flow of tears that persisted. “When I first saw you lying there, I thought surely it was some jest at my expense. A horrible one, mind you, but still, just a prank. As I left, I convinced myself your death wasn’t real. Even after I returned to the city, I waited for you. I waited by the door for days, sure you’d arrive at any moment or send word of your daring escape. But those days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. Eventually, I had to admit defeat, because if you were truly alive, you would’ve let me know you were okay as soon as possible. No, insist all you want, Kes, but I know you’re just some figment of my mind. At least, we’ll be together soon, once this tea take effect.”
“But my death was supposed to free you. You were supposed to drop this marriage plan and move on with your life, Dorian.”
“At first I believed I deserved this life after failing you. But I can’t keep going. I can’t keep fighting for this life. There’s no point in fighting without you, Kes. Don’t you understand?”
Kestrel rose to his feet, upset. “No, I don’t understand! You’ve lived without me before, Dorian. You could do so again.”
“One can only have their heart ripped out so many times before they perish, amatus.”
Had he truly left Dorian in such a state? But why? He was nothing; worth none of this drama. He’d thought he could just fade away with his faked death. Sure, he’d never forget Dorian, but Dorian would eventually move on. He never thought he’d drive Dorian to take his own life. How could he have crushed Dorian so thoroughly?
His heart broke with the sight of Dorian weeping, hiding his emotions poorly behind a bejeweled hand. He needed to stop this. Words weren’t convincing enough. Without another thought, Kestrel approached Dorian in his velvet-lined chair and crawled onto his lap, like those many nights in Skyhold after exhaustive days. He nudged Dorian’s collar out of the way and buried his head against Dorian’s neck. He smeared tears along the way, but those would stop soon enough. He’d see to it. “I’m not dead,” he whispered, like words were needed after pressing himself as close to Dorian as possible.
Dorian remained unreceptive to him for a long moment, rigid and still. Finally, he inhaled and groaned out “Amatus” coming to life and curled his arms around Kestrel. “How could you?” he asked, still holding Kestrel close. “How could you leave me thinking you died? Your death was the end of my life.”
“I’m sorry, ma vhenan. I thought for sure you’d cancel your wedding plans and move on.”
“Why would you ever think that?”
Kestrel groaned before whispering, “I’m nothing.”
“You’re everything to me,” Dorian whispered fervently, tightening his hug. “Don’t you realize how perfect you are?”
Perfect? Hardly. “Oh yeah, a one-armed, powerless, has-been,” Kestrel scoffed.
“You’re a hero. You saved the people of Ferelden and Orlais. Even Tevinter whispers about the deeds the Inquisitor accomplished, omitting the fact that you’re an elf, but that’s something we can work on. And while your arm loss is unfortunate, the people view it as a selfless sacrifice, even still, years later.”
“That’s the Inquisitor, Dorian. He had a whole army and spies and loyal companions to help accomplish everything. That’s not me.”
“No? But you, Kes, not the Inquisitor title is what attracted everyone to your side and kept them there. Me included. Do you know what we see in you?”
Kestrel shook his head against Dorian’s shoulder.
“You’re kind, caring, intelligent. You’re a selfless protector of the small and helpless. And so strong. When backed into a corner, you never back down, you never give up. You inspire others around you to be better, to try harder. And you give everyone hope. When I lost you, that’s what I missed the most, the hope that everything will get better, that everything will be okay. You radiate it.”
Kestrel realized his own tears dampened Dorian’s neck.
Dorian snuggled closer to whisper, “Not to mention, you make a wonderful companion in bed.”
Kestrel snorted, unable to hold back a smile against Dorian’s skin.
Dorian released a soggy chuckle. “We’re a fine pair, don’t you think? We’re so wonderful at this relationship thing that we’ve left each other hopeless and alone.”
“Better together,” Kestrel repeated their motto, mumbling into Dorian’s throat.
Shifting enough to put some space between them, Dorian stared him down with a sad grin. “I can’t continue to do this, Kes.”
“Oh…” was all he could respond with, pulling even further away. Then why did Dorian bother to build him up just to cast him aside?
Dorian prodded Kestrel’s forehead. “Stop those thoughts running through that mind of yours. I meant, I’ll go wherever you want. Back to Orlais,” although puckered lips showed what he thought of that idea, “back to Skyhold. I’d even stay with your Clan again, if you prefer.”
Kestrel was stunned, slowly blinking with surprise. That wasn’t what he expected to hear. “You’d sleep in the woods, traveling around in an aravel, for an indeterminate length of time just to be with me?”
“I waded through the cursed waters of Cresthold and trudged the rainy beaches of Storm Coast, and you doubt I’d remain by your side with your Clan? I love you, and I know Tevinter holds terrible memories for you. I wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to leave, but I’m not leaving your side again.”
“Dorian, all I’ve wanted since Corypheus died is you. Tevinter is worse than the Fade, but you have work to do here. You’re not leaving, and I’ll be with you for as long as you’ll have me.”
Dorian sought out Kestrel’s hand. Having it in his grasp, he placed a gentle kiss to the ring still secure on his finger. “Forever it is, then. I should’ve known when the ring didn’t come off,” he finished in a mutter. Suddenly, a look of horror washed over his face. “I went to the pit after I was told your body was burned...there were remains there and I…”
“You took what you thought was a piece of me with you?”
Dorian opened a small pouch on his belt and retrieved a charred finger bone. With a look of absolute disgust, he whispered, “Whose bone am I holding if not yours?”
“Morven’s.”
“Maker’s breath!” Dorian chucked the bone across the tent, through the opening. “Mother thought he ran away with that boy, too afraid to face her wrath, when he didn’t show back up. She was highly disappointed, but I can’t say I was sad to see him gone. Now that I know the truth, I really should’ve known you were alive!”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Dorian. You had no way of knowing.”
“True. And I’m going to be quite peeved at you for a bit for letting me believe you’d truly died. You’ll have to work for my forgiveness.” Dorian smirked that oh-so familiar smirk that went straight to Kestrel’s groin.
“Forever,” Kestrel breathed, leaning in close, although something stopped him from closing the gap completely. Some nagging lack of self-worth left him lingering close with lips slightly parted and brow creased in doubt.
Dorian didn’t hesitate. He kissed Kestrel fast and hard, and the groan of appreciation that left one of them, maybe both of them, was sinful and completely unavoidable.
The kiss was tears of sorrow and joy and love all compressed into a single, peaceful moment between the two of them. And then it turned needy and desperate.
Kestrel shifted his position, straddling Dorian. He took a moment to stare down at Dorian from his new height, fingers skimming along the shorn side of his head before threading through the base of the ponytail and pinned him in place with a harsh hold.
“Kes,” Dorian groaned, lips parted in need, but unable to close the distance between them.
“Why have the last two months felt longer than the last two years apart?” Kestrel whispered, mouth hovering close but not close enough.
Dorian smirked. “I missed you too.”
That playful grin was his downfall from the first time he met Dorian. That hadn’t changed over the years. Unable to resist him any longer, Kestrel crushed his lips against Dorian’s, tongue questing out to meet his. This man was Kestrel’s whole world. Gone was the struggle of the last two months, gone was the wedding waiting for them, gone was the worry of being noticed or caught. Even though doubt and shadows still plagued him, nothing else mattered but Dorian. He lost himself in Dorian’s mouth, in Dorian’s touch, in the soothing scent of sandalwood that permeated the air around him. It was all too much and not enough at the same time.
Dorian seemed to feel the same, for he grabbed Kestrel’s hips and pushed him down on his cock tenting the thin fabric of his pants.
With only thin leggings on himself, Kestrel moaned with the lack of barrier between them, and Dorian pressed up further. “I want you. Now. Right now,” Kestrel whispered, urgent and eager.
“Eh-hem.” Someone cleared their voice nearby.
Both men stilled before reluctantly separating.
“Seems like that may have to wait,” Dorian murmured.
Swamped by barely buried fears, Kestrel remained rigid and watched Dorian for his reaction to the visitor.
“Dorian, everyone is waiting for you, for your own wedding that you inanely agreed to, and here I find you making out with a slave instead! If you were this determined to fuck it up, you should’ve declined the marriage agreement.”
Kestrel recognized Maevaris’ voice and turned his head to find her annoyed glare land on him. He watched as it shifted from irritation to confusion to wonder.
“Oh! Now I understand! Don’t quite understand how you’re here, alive, mind you, but I completely understand what has Dorian preoccupied now.”
“He’s not dead, Mae,” Dorian said, arms wrapping around Kestrel possessively, as if he was worried if he let Kestrel go, he’d disappear again.
“I can see that. Now, what’s the plan? I assume poor Atria needs to be informed. And then…?”
“We have to stop your mother, Dorian. This is our chance to confront her in front of a crowd,” Kestrel said.
Maevaris nodded her head. “I agree. If she makes a deal with you before half of the elite of Tevinter, she’ll have to honor it.”
“The only chance we have of that happening is to catch her off guard,” Dorian said with a frown. That frown suddenly shifted to a devilish grin. “Walk down the aisle with me, Kes.”
Kestrel looked at him, confused. “What?”
“Walk down the aisle with me instead of Atria. My mother believes you dead, it’ll completely shock her. Before she collects her wits, I’ll lay the blame on her for the attacks, stealing you from me, and for forcing the marriage.”
“And if she attacks?” Maevaris asked.
“I doubt she will before a crowd. But, if it happens, we can fight back. She has to make the first move, though, if our defense is to be completely sanctioned.”
Kestrel and Maevaris nodded in agreement.
“Mae, can you please give us a moment?”
Grinning, Maevaris said, “Of course, my dear. But don’t take too long. The crowd is waiting for the show. I’ll break the news to Atria.”
They both watched her leave before turning their focus back to each other.
“Do you think this will work?” Kestrel asked.
“It’s our best chance at being free from her.”
“I’ll kill her if I have to,” whispered Kestrel into the growing space between them.
“Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”
Kestrel kissed Dorian’s cheek before climbing off his lap and removing one of the blades underneath his cloak. Passing it over to Dorian, he said, “Just in case.” He’d kill anyone he needed to keep Dorian safe, but Dorian needed his own protection too.
Dorian accepted the blade and promptly shifted topics, asking with a playful wink, “Ready to walk down the aisle?”
Kestrel flushed. “With you? Yes. Oh! But…” Didn’t to-be spouses normally lay everything on the table before getting married? Even if this wasn’t the real deal, Kestrel still felt the need to confess bubbling up within him.
Dorian watched him with a raised brow. “...Yes?”
“Uhm...just to let you know, I sort of adopted a kid while we were apart.”
Dorian’s face contorted, and Kestrel couldn’t be sure what the expression staring back at him meant.
“The boy…? The boy Dalish from my mother’s estate?” Dorian finally said after a heavy pause.
Nodding, Kestrel remained silent to allow Dorian to process.
“I shouldn’t be surprised. You took in every stray animal at Skyhold, even those terrifying draskolisks and the oversized nug. Why, I’m surprised you aren’t running an orphanage at this point. And, unlike the beasts, at least he’s old enough to handle his own waste, right?” Dorian muttered, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
Kestrel laughed. That was Dorian’s reluctant acceptance. He’d take it for the time being, knowing Dorian would warm to the boy soon enough. “I think you two will get along well,” he said once his laughter broke. He offered a reassuring pat to Dorian’s shoulder.
“And there’s always the Circle to ship him off to if not,” Dorian said with a grin.
***
After further delay to ensure Kestrel was presentable to the public of Tevinter and to allow for a surprisingly amiable good luck and goodbye from Dorian’s now ex-fiance, they were ready to proceed with their plan to demand their freedom from Dorian’s mother. In hindsight, it was a poorly thought-out plan, and if they weren’t so high on the feelings from their reunion, maybe calmer minds would have recognized this. As it stood, they marched arm-in-arm down the field as delicate music filled the air, heralding the arrival of the groom and his bride. They made it to the back end of the guests before an errant bow screeched over the wrong string and the music shuddered to a halt.
Offended gasps and hushed whispers filled the silence, growing louder during their procession along the white velvet walkway. Chairs creaked, everybody repositioning to follow their trek closer and closer to the gaping Grand Cleric waiting under the arbor.
Kestrel clung hard to Dorian’s arm, hoping the crowd didn’t notice how tight his grip was. He kept his back straight and head held high even as sneers and racist remarks waited behind every shocked expression, yet on the inside, he longed to stealth. As Inquisitor, he learned to tolerate being the center of attention, but that had waned over the years. Now he wanted nothing more than to slip away from the hard glares.
Dorian seemed to sense his unease and placed his hand over Kestrel’s, thumb stroking Kestrel’s tumultuous hold.
It calmed him, soothed his very soul to know that he was by Dorian’s side again. He was the one walking down the aisle with him, no one else. Even if this was a farce, Dorian was his, and he’d fiercely protect those he loved. Dorian has been right about that. Kestrel cloaked himself in his anger, pissed that people would pass judgement on them so quickly without knowing anything about them. He glared back at those Magisters and Altus and anyone else who dared to meet his gaze, feeling feral and fierce.
“Why, Inquisitor, what a pleasant surprise. I thought you dead. And very few runaway slaves return to their Mistress by their own will.”
Kestrel turned his snarl to Aquinea perched upon her platform, overlooking the ensemble.
“I didn’t return to you as your slave. We came to negotiate.”
“Negotiate with a slave? You wear my brand, pet. I only use your former title as a reward for returning to your side, not to give you a false sense of power.” She waved her hand towards Kestrel. “Guards, retrieve my property.”
The guard stationed around the platform moved to intercept, but Dorian held up his hand, buying them a moment’s pause.
Dorian squeezed Kestrel’s hand. “Mother, this is unacceptable. Kestrel is not a slave, but the Inquisitor of Fereldan and Orlais. You forced his enslavement before through trickery and deceit.”
“What do I care what importance he carries in other countries? In Tevinter, he’s a lowly raffas, and my men captured him fairly in the streets of Minrathous. I’ve branded him and claimed him as my own.”
“Kestrel won’t be your pet, and I will not be going through my your marriage arrangements.”
“Your sense of entitlement is impressive, son, but fruitless. If you will not keep to the deal we agreed upon, then I see no further use for you. Guards, kill him but capture the slave.”
Six men advanced on them, shoving startled guests out of their way. Soon enough the people got the message and abandoned their seats to form a semi-circle around the podium
Aquinea didn’t seem to care about attacking them in front of an audience which worried Kestrel. Did she have enough power or enough clout that she didn’t fear the repercussions from attacking a Magister in the open?
That was the last Kestrel was able to ponder as two guards lunged at him, weapons still sheathed. He had the advantage. They were working to subdue while he had no such constraints.
He yanked his dagger from its sheath on his lower back just in time to cut into the forearm of a guard reaching for him. The man jolted back with a startled hiss, gripping the cut as blood ran freely. Yet as he dropped back, the second man jumped him from behind, putting him into a choke hold and pulling him off balance. The two of them toppled onto the ground. Kestrel used the momentum of their fall to flip the blade in his palm and plunge it deep into the man’s gut. He was immediately released, and Kestrel scrambled to his feet, searching for Dorian.
Dorian had made quick work of the other four guards. Three burned corpses sprawled on the ground around him while the fourth stumbled over to Aquinea. He made a choking noise, reaching for her. Then he exploded. Blood and bits of flesh and innards rained down around two booted feet left behind, falling primarily on the stage and on Aquinea, turning her white dress crimson.
“We will win, Mother. It’s time you see reason and let us be,” Dorian said, strands of unruly hair plastered to his sweaty forehead. He looked glorious, and he looked pissed.
Aquinea dragged her fingers over her lips, smearing blood from her cheek along her face. A pink tongue darted out, tasting. “Seems I’ll have to do this myself,” she said, sounding completely put out. Her gaze locked on to the remaining guard nursing his arm. With a smirk, she gestured and more blood poured from his wound.
Kestrel and Dorian stood horrified as a shocked gasp rose up around them. Still, no one came to help.
The collected blood launched as red spears at Dorian, slamming into a hastily generated barrier.
Kestrel stealthed, bloodied dagger ready. If he could just get to her…
Dorian’s shield shattered around him, sending him to his knees. He was helpless and by the grin on Aquinea’s face, she knew it.
Abandoning all plans of assassination, Kestrel tucked the blade close to his arm and darted towards Dorian, tackling him just as a fresh spell was cast. It slammed into his back, knocking the breath from his lungs and leaving him gasping.
Dorian frowned beneath him, cupping Kestrel’s face in his hands. “Amatus?”
And that’s when Kestrel realized everything was horribly wrong.
While he could feel Dorian’s gentle touch, he couldn’t move. Nothing would respond to his mind’s command. Not a blink, not a twitch, not a part of him moved as he willed it. Fortunately, his lungs still fought for air and his heart thudded in his chest. All he could do was watch Dorian struggle beneath him, pinned and trying desperately to figure out what was wrong with Kestrel. And then the burning started.
It was subtle at first, a tingling in his veins of his extremities before it worked its way inward, intensifying until every cell of his body screamed as if it were on fire. Strangled gasps left Kestrel as his body seized, its only way of a fought-for response. Water trickled out his eyes, out of his nose, dripping red onto Dorian’s face. Not water, then.
“Kes? Kes!” Dorian cried, clutching his face.
The fingers digging into his cheeks felt like a gentle caress compared to the raging inferno that burned within him, blood boiling in his veins.
Kestrel watched as Dorian’s attention was redirected at someone incoming. There was a jerk of Kestrel’s hand as Dorian’s face settled into a delicate mask of disgust, barely hiding the fear and rage behind it.
“His death is on your hands, son. I wanted to keep him alive, but you had to fight,” Aquinea said, her boot appearing in the periphery of Kestrel’s vision, near Dorian’s head.
The agony was too much to bare, darkening the edge of his vision. Yet the most frustrating part was not being able to scream or curse out the pain or clench his body against an incoming blow. He was helpless to whatever blood magic spell had taken hold of him.
Aquinea‘s boot inched closer, her shadow darkening their forms. “I wish you’d never been born, Dorian. You were such a waste of my time and energy. Halward agreed until the end when you somehow persuaded him otherwise, and I—“
Without warning, Dorian snagged her ankle and yanked with all his might.
Aquinea yelp in surprise as she fell to the ground next to Dorian.
Again, calling on his strength, Dorian wrapped his arms around Kestrel and shoved up, rolling them over until Kestrel was wedged between Dorian on top, and Aquinea’s lower half underneath.
Kestrel barely registered what happened next as the void of unconsciousness threatened to pull him under. It’d be a welcomed relief from his melting insides.
Metal glinted in the sunlight as Dorian reared back, blade-in-hand plummeting towards Aquinea’s heart.
Then Kestrel slipped into blessed unconsciousness.
Weekly updates going forward until the story is finished. Find this fic in its entirety on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423880/chapters/51852871
They returned past dinner from a successful day trip. It’d taken hours of healing magic to see the old woman’s hip mended, but from Dalish’s smile, it was worth it. After using so much magic, he could barely keep his eyes open over his meal. Eating what he could, he stood up from the table with Alvinius and Kestrel and said, “Can I go to bed now? I’m super sleepy.”
Closing the tavern for their day trip meant they were the only three currently there. The quiet was welcomed after their journey.
“Yes. Goodnight, da’len. Good job today,” Kestrel said.
Dalish gave him a sluggish hug in response and trudged towards the stairs.
“Don’t forget to take off your shoes before getting in to bed!” Kestrel shouted after him, but Dalish gave no indication he heard before disappearing up the stairs. He turned towards Alvinius, shaking his head with a rueful smile. “Last night, he was so tired, he passed out in the bed, fully dressed with his shoes on.”
“He’s a good boy. And he saved that woman’s life today. You should be proud of how you’ve raised your son. You’re a wonderful father,” Alvinius said, placing a hand lightly on Kestrel’s arm.
Kestrel looked down at the touch but didn’t pull away, despite the subtle flush that heated his cheeks. Over the last few years of his life, since disbanding the Inquisition and leaving Dorian, praise, even undeserved, was rarely thrown his way. Still, he had to set the facts straight, even if he’d rather selfishly bask in Alvinius compliment.
“I’m not his father. I’ve never been one.” Although, all those milkings in Tevinter might lead to some unknown children. Kestrel shoved that thought away before it could darken his mood. “Honestly, he’s been this loving and helpful as long as I’ve known him, which has only been a few months. I can’t take credit for it, it’s all him.”
“Truly? Just a few months? You two are so close. You don’t look alike, but still, I thought…” Alvinius shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re his caretaker now, and you’re doing a great job seeing to his well being.”
Kestrel laughed. “You’re the one providing our food and lodging! Really, I can’t take any credit.”
Alvinius’ eyes lingered on Kestrel’s lips as he spoke, a gentle smile gracing his own.
Kestrel sensed the change in mood as Alvinius scooted closer on the bench they shared and leaned in. He held his breath, cheeks alight with a deeper, darker blush, wondering if Alvinius dared kiss him. Kestrel stood his ground, not pulling away, but guilt didn’t allow him to close that last bit of distance either. What would Dorian think?
Closing his eyes and tilting his head to the side, Alvinius took the initiative.
The first kiss they shared that night was a soft, hesitant thing. Barely a brush of skin before Alvinius jerked back, pale skin flushed a beautiful pink. Before he could stammer out the apology forming on his lips, Kestrel wrapped his hand around the back of Alvinius’ head and pulled him close for a redo. This one unleashed the shackled passion they’d both been reining in. It was everything the first kiss was not - messy, eager, and unrestrained.
Alvinius slid into Kestrel’s lap, using the new angle to deepen their kiss.
Kestrel could feel his excitement brush against his stomach, and his own body started to respond. This might not be the home he imagined for himself even a few months ago and love was still a faraway concept, if even ever attainable, but it felt nice to be held, kissed, and possibly fucked again. It helped fill a painful void he’d tucked away within him. He was dead to Dorian, which meant he needed to try his best to bury Dorian in his heart. Still, he had to lay all his cards on the table.
Pulling back, leaving Alvinius reeling from the kiss, Kestrel managed to say, “I’m not sure I can give you what you’re looking for, Vin.”
Alvinius kissed his cheek, then his jaw. “That’s okay. We’ll go as far as you want, no strings attached. And if you want the strings, I’m not going anywhere.”
Cupping Alvinius’ cheek, Kestrel gazed into his warm hazel eyes, finding solace there. No judgement, no conditions, just a bright, welcoming soul ready to soothe his wounds. Alvinius offered an escape to his past trauma, a way to forget. “Then let's go to your room.”
***
Kestrel glanced into his room as they padded back, relieved to find Dalish fast asleep. And he’d removed his shoes.
Alvinius waited patiently for him by the open door to his room, red hair and hazel eyes aflame in the dim candlelight of the hallway.
As soon as Kestrel crossed the threshold to Alvinius’ room, Alvinius was on him, lips and hands curious and gentle, joining their bodies again. It was so different from his times with Dorian.
Every touch was delicate, boarding on hesitate, as if one false move would force them apart. Perhaps it’d been like that when he’d first slept with Dorian, but years had blurred that memory into something blissful but still hazy. It was as if Alvinius was afraid he might crumble with too hard a touch. Or run away if pushed too far.
This wasn’t a confident Dorian who knew exactly what buttons to push to get him to cry out. Alvinus was a new partner who needed to be taught. He pushed on Alvinius’ chest to give him enough space to remove his shirt, tossing it aside.
Alvinius’ eyes lit up, taking in the sight of his freshly bared skin. He followed suit, quickly removing his own shirt. Such pale, pale skin, pinkened with desire. So different from Dorian’s darker skin which rarely betrayed a blush.
No, no more thoughts of him tonight. It wasn’t fair to Alvinius to compare every aspect to Dorian. He would never live up to those standards. He needed to do his best to forget Dorian. Maybe sex would help push Dorian from his thoughts.
Kestrel grabbed Alvinius’ hips and spun him around until his back was to the door. Still holding on, he pulled him over to the bed and sat down, maneuvering Alvinius in between his legs, leaving Kestrel eye level with a large expanse of alabaster flesh and twin, rosy peaks.
Kestrel skimmed his nose over Alvinius’ chest, inhaling the scent of dried sweat and lavender from the day on his skin. He planted a soft kiss directly above one of Alvinius’ pink nipples, before lowering his mouth to skim his lips over the sensitive nub. Alvinius trembled beneath his airy touch.
He slowly slid his tongue up and over Alvinius’ nipple in an intentional caress, earning him a soft groan and fingers buried in his hair. That was all the permission Kestrel needed to tease and toy with the small peak. Teeth tugged and tongue soothed.
Alvinius was a whimpering mess by the time Kestrel switched to his other nipple. Still, he made no move to force Kestrel to do anything else but tease him. Dorian normally made it known what he preferred, and how impatient he was growing. Right, not Dorian.
Kestrel bit into the skin just to the left of Alvinius’ nipple, enjoying the way pink marks were left in his abusive wake. He kissed the irritated imprint right after, nuzzling his nose against the elf’s chest in a silent apology.
Alvinius slipped a hand down Kestrel’s back, rubbing up and down.
Grinning to himself, Kestrel decided to mimic Alvinius and rubbed his hand along the fabric of Alvinius’ pants and the obvious bulge there.
Alvinius tensed briefly before thrusting against Kestrel’s palm, needing more.
Eager to comply, Kestrel slipped his hand past the waistband and was greeted by silky, hard flesh. He’d only managed a few quick jerks before Alvinius cried out and came all over his hand.
“Dear Maker…” he breathed, slumping on top of Kestrel, panting. He took a moment to collect himself before dropping his knees to the floor in between Kestrel’s spread thighs. He took Kestrel’s hand into his own and started licking his mess off Kestrel’s fingers. Alvinius maintained eye contact, even while he sucked on each of Kestrel’s fingers, curling his tongue skillfully around each one.
Kestrel felt his cock harden under the sinful stare, mind wondering what those pink lips would look like curled around his cock. Alvinius’ lips weren’t as full as Dorian’s and -- No! Dorian would never be his again. He needed to move on and Alvinius was certainly willing enough.
Besides, his torture which plagued him daily, seemed satisfied to simmer in the dark recesses of his mind, leaving him uninhibited and able to enjoy this time with Alvinius. If he could just stop thinking of Dorian.
Hand cleaned to his liking, Alvinius leaned forward, rubbing his face along Kestrel’s thigh and higher. “It’s your turn now,” he said with a promising smile.
Now that the attention was turned to him, having someone else between his legs only made Kestrel miss Dorian more. Sadness and loss welled up within him, killing any budding lust he felt for Alvinius. Kestrel’s battled against a shrinking erection.
No! This was not how this night was supposed to end. He wanted to forget Dorian and lose himself in Alvinius. ….Right? Now, how to ensure that happened? A thought popped into his mind. It was a terrible thought, but it just might work. Although he couldn’t have Dorian, he might be able to see this through if he imagined that it was Dorian sucking him off and not Alvinius. Part of him felt shame for the subterfuge, but Alvinius was already pulling his pants down.
Kestrel lay back on the bed, imagining it was Dorian kissing the inside of his thighs or dragging his teeth over his hip bone.
As Alvinius took one of his balls into his mouth, sucking, Kestrel thought of Dorian toying with him. He reached out, expecting to find a stubbly cheek and shaved hair, but all he felt was smooth skin and soft hair. He groaned with disappointment.
Even as Alvinius’ tongue danced up the underside of his cock, Kestrel could only think of Dorian. Dorian would’ve had him in his mouth by now. Struggling with his emotions, he threw his arm over his face, hiding behind it. Even the desire demon was better than this.
His cock was fully flaccid by the time Kestrel lost his battle with the tears.
The bed shifted next to him and Alvinius asked softly, “Do you want to talk about Dorian?”
Kestrel moved his arm enough to glare at Alvinius through his tears. “How do you know that name?”
“You only said it a few hundred times while I was on my knees. I figure -” He reached out and brushed away a tear on Kestrel’s face. “-he’s the cause of these.”
“No, no, you’re wrong,” Kestrel said, fresh tears flowing. “It’s all my fault.”
“Shhh, it’s okay,” Alvinius soothed. He climbed into bed next to Kestrel, pulling Kestrel into a comforting embrace. “I know you have to be strong in front of the boy but not here. Here we can talk about anything. Or nothing if you prefer, mon beau oiseau.”
With a shuddering sigh, Kestrel released everything. He revealed his past with Dorian, from the very beginning up to several weeks ago, reliving tender moments with Dorian in Minrathous, the trauma dealt by Morven’s hand, and the true depth of his guilt for abandoning Dorian. He managed the whole tale through bouts of crying and panicked breaths. The night was fully settled by the time he was done, candles sputtering low.
“Your story is more tragic than I imagined,” Alvinius said after a long moment to process, his tone heavy with sympathy. “Know that I am here for you in whatever capacity you desire, whether friend or more. There are no strings attached. There’s no pressure for you to stay or rush for you to leave, but this town could use a healer and I a friend, should you decide to stay.”
Kestrel buried himself in Alvinius’ chest, soaking up the comfort he offered. He might not be Dorian, but would it be so terrible to settle here in Nessum with this man that so clearly cared for him? Perhaps love would even follow if given enough time. Yet the only words that left him in a soft whisper were “I miss him.”
Whether Alvinius didn’t hear or didn’t know what to say, he didn’t respond as he ran his fingers slowly up and down Kestrel’s back. Exhausted from the crying, Kestrel was soon fast asleep under Alvinius’ gentle caress.
***
Warm light bathed his face, stirring Kestrel from a deep slumber. With a soft groan of protest, he turned on to his side, shifting under a warm blanket. The smell of lavender wafted up from the sheets, and Kestrel opened his eyes at the unusual fragrance. Then he realized he was completely naked.
Sitting up with a jolt, his gaze darted around the room, finding it unfamiliar but empty. His tension only eased when the memories of last night popped out from wherever they’d been hiding. Still, he’d slept in a...what was Alvinius? Friend? Acquaintance? Lover? Whatever he might title him, he’d slept in Alvinius’ bed all night without stirring. It’d been his first night without nightmares since his assault.
Before he could enjoy that fact, his mind jumped to another worry - Dalish. He’d been all alone last night. What if…?
Using his growing anxiety, Kestrel stumbled out of bed, found his clothes neatly tucked on a chest, and dashed out of the room still adjusting his leggings. He skidded to a halt in the open doorway of their shared room to find it just as empty as the one he left. There were no signs of a struggle, but he still held onto his nagging doubt.
Kestrel rushed down the stairs, tripping on the last few and landing hard on his feet.
“Kestrel!” said a cheerful, if muffled voice.
Dalish.
He turned towards the source and spotted Dalish sitting at the bar with a big bowl of porridge, gnawing on a piece of bacon. Grease was smeared across his cheek, but he looked otherwise normal and unharmed.
Alvinius stood behind the bar, resting a hip against the wooden counter as he dipped a spoon into his own bowl. The softest of smiles rose to his lips when he saw Kestrel, until he realized Kestrel’s state of disarray. “What’s wrong?” he asked, hand dropping his spoon into the bowl and disappearing beneath the bar.
Kestrel closed the distance in a few steps and hugged Dalish to him, ignoring the protesting muffle from him. “I was worried someone had…” he said and stopped, resting his chin on top of Dalish’s head.
“He’s okay. I would never let anything happen to him,” said Alvinius, face stark with his seriousness.
“I know, I just overslept and then the rooms were empty and…”
“It’s okay,” Dalish said against his chest, hugging Kestrel back and nestling close. “I’m okay, you’re okay.”
“The imagination is a terrible trickster,” Alvinius agreed. “I thought about waking you, but you were sleeping so soundly, I decided against disturbing you. I’m sorry.”
Dalish pulled back with a big grin on his face. “You finally slept good? No nightmares?”
Kestrel couldn’t help but return his smile. “No, no nightmares last night.” He also couldn’t help looking up and meeting Alvinius’ knowing gaze.
“I meant every word of it, mon beau oiseau.”
Feeling relieved with Dalish in sight and refreshed from a much-needed night of undisturbed slumber, Kestrel sauntered over to Alvinius and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Turning his head to rest his cheek against the one just kissed, he whispered, “You’ve told nothing but truths since we arrived. I have no reason to doubt you now.”
“I thought I’d find you struggling, yet here you are, ready to fuck someone else and it’s been, what, not even two months?” sneered a very familiar voice.
Kestrel spun around, but before he could react, Alvinius pulled a crossbow from beneath the bar and leveled it at the new visitor. “And just who might you be, Vint?” he said, tone tight with anger.
“Atronis,” Kestrel and Atronis said at the same time. There was only one reason he’d track him down.
Atronis stared down the crossbow as he slumped into a nearby chair, even as it trailed his movements. “I didn’t think I’d find you in time. Now I have, but you’re useless.”
“What happened? Is Dorian…?” Kestrel leaned against the bar, using it to hold himself up. Here he was flirting with someone else while Dorian was what? Dead? Dying?
“Do you know how many villages I stopped in to find you? And none of them are very welcoming to a Tevinter!”
“With good reason,” muttered Alvinius at Kestrel’s side. The crossbow was lowered but still out.
“I thought when I heard of a one-armed Dalish from the next village over, my search was done, but now I realize it’s pointless. You’ve already forgotten about him.”
Kestrel clenched his jaw. Atronis knew how to ramble about his own hardships but rarely liked to get to the point. “Atronis,” he snapped. “If you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on, I’ll shoot you myself.”
Atronis recoiled, affronted. “He’s still going through with it.” When Kestrel gestured impatiently with confusion, Atronis spat out, “The wedding. He’s still going through with it.”
Then Dorian was still alive.
Kestrel clutched his hand against his chest, exhaling a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Why?” he asked with a shaky voice.
Alvinius’s hand reached out and rubbed small circles along his back, offering strength and support.
“Your death, it broke him. He’s lost his mind. I tried to convince him that a wedding wasn’t what he wanted, but he insisted it was. He said he planned on a wedding and that was what he was going to do.”
A wedding? Their wedding? Kestrel looked down at his fist and the golden band that glimmered there.
Oblivious, Atronis kept going. “Really, I believe it’s because Aquinea sank her claws into him, spouting off some bullshit about how a child would give him a purpose in life.”
“You were supposed to be there for him. You were supposed to watch out for him,” Kestrel said with an angry hiss. “I trusted you to watch over him since I couldn’t!”
Atronis rose to his feet, hands thrown into the air. “I tried! But he doesn’t want me! He only wants you. Even knowing you’re dead, he only wants you.” The last sentence was barely a whisper, said when he dropped back into the chair with such a dejected look.
Kestrel felt a small tinge of sympathy for him, despite their history.
“How do you think Kestrel can help?” Alvinius asked, sounding curious.
“What?” Atronis looked at the other elf and then at Dalish, remembering they weren’t alone.
“You said, ‘I didn’t think I’d find you in time.’ Why did you come looking for him? How do you think he can help?”
Kestrel knew why, so he answered before Atronis could. “I’m the only one who could convince Dorian not to get married to a woman. He’s single-mindedly stubborn at times.”
“But then that would ruin your plan, no?”
“You know him as well as I do. He’s doing this to punish himself. He wants to live the rest of his life suffering,” Atronis said, every word full of frustration.
Kestrel frowned, deep in thought. “When’s the wedding?”
Counting off on his fingers, Atronis answered, “Two days from now.”
“Two days? You realize even with a horse and using the main roads, it’ll take a good week to make it back,” Alvinius said.
“How is that finding me in time? If I even agree to go back, he’ll already be wed!” Kestrel threw his hand up in exasperation before burying his face in its palm. The thought of someone else marrying Dorian twisted his stomach.
Alvinius was there to soothe, renewing his rubbing of Kestrel’s back.
“Perhaps you can at least persuade him to have it annulled. It’s possible, you know, but only if you convince him within the first month of marriage. I’m sure Aquinea will keep him close until the annulment period is over, so our time is limited.”
That meant traveling back into the country that viewed him as property. Back into the household that had enslaved him and tortured him. All for Dorian. And then what? Once Dorian knew he was alive, would he take him back after such a big lie? After how weak he’d been? Would that even be what was best for them?
“I think you should go,” Alvinius said quietly.
His words yanked Kestrel from his thoughts, and he looked over at him in disbelief. “You do?”
“I know it’ll be dangerous, but I also think there will be no moving forward for you if you don’t. Go see him and determine for yourself if you should intervene. If you see he’s on the mend, then leave him be. There will always be a place for you here, mon beau oiseau.”
“And if I-”
“Then know I will always cherish our time together, however short, and you’ll always have a friend in Nessum.”
“What about me…?” Dalish asked.
“How about you stay with me for a bit until Kestrel figures out where he’s going to stay?”
“I don’t know…”
Kestrel was just as reluctant as Dalish. He trusted Alvinius, and Tevinter would be dangerous for two runaway slaves, but still, his heart protested the thought of leaving him behind.
Sensing his unease, Alvinius said, “I promise I will take good care of him in your absence. I will protect him with my life, if necessary. This whole town will. No harm will come to him.”
“But, your nightmares,” Dalish muttered, looking at Kestrel with those pale blue eyes. “And if you’re caught…”
“I’ll return with him, boy. He can play the role of my slave. My pet bunny,” Atronis said with a smirk. “Really, there’s nothing to worry about. He’ll be safe with me.”
Kestrel ignored Atronis’ comment and moved to Dalish’s side. “I’ll be okay, and you’ll be safe with Vin here. Only until we can be reunited, okay? This isn’t goodbye.”
Dalish didn’t look convinced, but he nodded his head, reluctantly agreeing. “Don’t take too long,” he grumbled as he pulled Kestrel into another hug.
“We’ll set out tomorrow morning after I’ve had a chance to rest,” Atronis said. Kestrel opened his mouth to protest, but Atronis continued, “We can’t make it before the wedding anyway. One day of rest won’t hurt anything.”
“Looks like you’ve got me all day, da’len. What would you like to do?” Kestrel said, patting Dalish’s back.
“I have the makings of a picnic. How about I pack you up a basket and you take him down to the lake?” Alvinius offered.
“Join us?” Kestrel asked, snagging his hand.
Alvinius gave him a small smile. “I wish I could, but there’s something I need to do today. You go and have fun, and I’ll see you tonight.” He pulled his hand from Kestrel’s hold and disappeared into the back.
Kestrel was left wondering if he’d hurt his feelings by agreeing to go, even though Alvinius was the one who recommended he see Dorian again. He had little time to worry about it, because the next moment Dalish was grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the stairs.
“Get cleaned up so we can go to the lake!” he commanded playfully.
“Yes, sir!” Kestrel said with a grin. He resolved himself to enjoy the day with Dalish and the evening with Alvinius and leave his worry to tomorrow.
***
Except that didn’t quite work out. Once Dalish and he returned to the tavern from a lovely picnic on the lake with sun-kissed cheeks and hearty smiles on their faces, Alvinius greeted them with a hooded companion right inside the door, Atronis nearby with a frown.
Kestrel could tell immediately by the mood that something had happened. Or was about to.
Dalish yawned long and wide, barely hiding it behind his hand.
They’d stayed at the lake longer than planned, barely making it back as the sun set. Of course, Dalish was tired. It’d been a busy day full of food, sun, and swimming.
“Why don’t you head to bed?” Kestrel said, keeping his tone light and pleasant.
Oblivious to the change in mood, Dalish nodded. Rubbing his eyes, Dalish hugged Kestrel half-heartedly, hugged Alvinius, and made his way upstairs.
Kestrel lowered the picnic basket to the nearby table in case he needed to reach for his blade. “What’s going on?”
“I was approached a while back by some elves. They asked if I wanted to join their network that would bring about the rebirth of the world. While I politely declined, they ensured I had a way of contacting them just in case. Well, I’d say this is a just in case situation. They can get you to where you need to be in a day instead of a week, mon beau oiseau.”
One day for a week’s worth of travel? How…? Only an eluvian path could help him travel so fast, and only one person was rumored to have access to the network now.
The hooded visitor lowered their hood, revealing a young Dalish woman. “Andaran atish’an,” she greeted in elvhen.
Her appearance solidified Kestrel’s suspicions. “You’re part of Solas—Fen’Harel’s group, aren’t you?” Kestrel asked.
“Yes, Inquisitor. Your friend here has explained the situation, and Fen’harel has decided to aid you once again.”
“Why?” Kestrel challenged.
The woman shrugged. “It’s not my place to question. But there are some rules that must be obeyed should you agree.”
“Now you can get there before the wedding,” Atronis said, sounding impressed.
“What are these rules of yours?”
“You will be blindfolded. If you remove the blindfold at any time, I will kill you.”
Alvinius frowned, moving instinctively closer to Kestrel.
Kestrel rolled his eyes at the dramatic rule. Of course, Solas would have such strict rules. “And…?” he prodded, unimpressed.
“Only you may go.”
Atronis rose to his feet. “We’re travel together!”
The woman narrowed her eyes and glared at Atronis. “No. You’re not. Only the Inquisitor is permitted. Finally, you will owe Fen’Harel one favor, however large or small, at a time of his choosing.”
“When would we leave?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
Kestrel turned to Alvinius. “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” he said, feeling guilty.
“I care for you,” Alvinius said, cupping Kestrel’s face between his hands. “If this gets you the answers you need and grants you a slimmer chance of running into slave catchers, I’m all for it. If the price is not too steep, you should do it. I’ll keep Dalish safe until you’ve made your decision.”
If the price wasn’t too steep? Hadn’t he already paid a steep price for Dorian time and time again? This time was no different. He’d die for him if that was needed to keep him safe, especially now that he’d found someone to look over Dalish in his stead.
Alivinius was too good for him. It was likely for the best he was leaving. Alvinius deserved better. “You’re too kind to me,” Kestrel said as he leaned in to place a soft kiss on Alvinius’ lips.
“Speaking of, let me draw you a bath? You smell of pond water, and I’d hate for your smell to betray your presence to this man you’re going to check on.”
Kestrel looked over at the woman who just shrugged again and sat down, prepared to wait.
“Okay, thank you, Vin,” Kestrel said.
After taking a quick bath and putting on a fresh set of clothes, he made his way upstairs to Dalish. The boy was fast asleep in the bed, cheeks pink from their day in the sun.
Kestrel ran his fingers through Dalish’s hair, reassuring himself that Dalish would be okay in his absence. Alvinius would care for him like his own, and Dalish was already a favorite of the town. He knew he had nothing to worry about. Still, he knew they’d miss each other after spending so much time together.
He leaned down and kissed Dalish’s forehead. “I’ll see you soon, da’len.”
I posted this on Wednesday for Dragon Age Day. I hope you all enjoy!
Weekly updates going forward until the story is finished. Find this fic in its entirety on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423880/chapters/51691594
He woke some time later, the shadows long on the far wall. One glance to the window told Kestrel it was close to sunset.
Dalish remained snuggled close, soft, deep breaths signaling his sleep.
Sweat and smoke mingled together to create a not altogether pleasant smell from Dalish’s head, but Kestrel didn’t care. He imagined he didn’t smell pleasant either. Their journey had been difficult and long, but they’d survived so far. Still, he should track down a bath in their near future.
Dorian loved his scented baths, the surface of the water shimmering with the iridescents of the musky oils. The enticing, exotic scents always clung to his skin afterwards, making him more seductive than usual to Kestrel. The desire to run his nose along his skin, kissing and nipping along the way, became too strong to resist. So many of their nights of love making had begun with Dorian’s bath.
Kestrel smiled with the memory until he remembered he’d never share such intimacy with Dorian again.
A light rapping on the door immediately raised his alarm, and he reached for his blade tucked under the pillow.
Dalish stirred within the cocoon of his arms. “Mm...Kestrel? Is everything-?
Kestrel shook his head, silencing him.
Another knock, this time louder, echoed through the small room.
Kestrel climbed over Dalish and silently padded to the door. Dagger ready, he asked, “Who’s there?”
“It’s Vin, mon ami.”
Kestrel waited for him to continue.
“So cautious. I understand. I wanted to let you know there’s a hot bath downstairs with your name on it. For both of you. And supper is just about ready. There’s a crowd in the tavern, so I can bring the food up, if you prefer. But they’re a friendly bunch. There are no strangers tonight, just locals.”
Kestrel rested his head against the door with a soft groan, all other words ignored after “hot bath.” Feelings of longing and depression washed over him.
“Are you alright?” Alvinius asked.
Kestrel realized he’d stopped talking too long ago. “Sorry. It’s just, it’s been so long since I’ve had a hot bath.”
His words were met with an appreciative chuckle. “Oh, how I understand that. I used to make my coin by hunting before I opened this tavern. Weeks I’d spend in the woods with only a cold stream to rinse off in. I’ve grown quite fond of a hot bath myself.”
“Wait...you...this is your tavern?”
A healthy, vibrant laugh sounded through the door. Nothing like Harrier’s cruel laughter. “Why don’t you join me for dinner, and then you can ask me all the questions you want? I’m an open book. Promise.”
Dalish pushed past him, opening the door. “Come on, Kestrel! I’m hungry!” he said, already hurrying down the hallway.
Kestrel tried to snag him but was too slow, leaving him alone with Alvinius grinning at him like he was the most amusing person he’d ever met.
“Don’t worry. I’ll watch over the boy if you want to take a bit longer in the bath than he clearly wants to.”
Still skeptical of his intentions, Kestrel frowned.
Alvinius’ smile eased, gaze softening. “Or...I can bring you your dinner in the bath, so he can eat near you.”
“Thank you,” Kestrel said, offering Alvinius an appreciative smile that was quickly returned.
***
Dalish squirmed in his grasp, eager to get the bath over with as Kestrel helped rinse the grime out of his hair.
“Mythal enaste,” he muttered under his breath. “Dalish, I swear if you do not stay still long enough for me to get this dirt out of your hair…”
“But I want to get in the bath!”
“We’re both filthy and need to rinse off before climbing in the tub. You know this, so stop being stubborn.”
Dalish crossed his arms over his chest, pouting. At least it kept him still long enough to remove most of the dirt from his hair and clean off his back.
“Okay, okay. You can get in,” Kestrel said, smiling to himself when the boy scrambled towards the tub and all but leapt in. It was nice to see him acting like a boy of his age, instead of like the adult he pretended to be.
Kestrel quickly cleaned himself off, the task going much faster without managing a struggling kid. He climbed in next to Dalish who was already busy soaping himself up.
A soft knock announced a visitor at the entrance of the small washroom. “It’s me,” said Alvinius. “Is it okay if I enter? I have your food.”
“Yes. Please,” Kestrel answered.
As Vin walked through the door with a tray full of food, Dalish’s eyes widened with delight before snapping shut, head plunged under water to rinse the soap out of his hair, splashing Kestrel. He emerged looking a bit sheepish. “Sorry…may I…?”
“Go on,” Kestrel said with a lazy wave. There was no use getting in the way of Dalish and his food.
Dalish sprang from the tub, threw a towel around his waist, and nearly plowed Alvinius over as he was setting the tray down on a side table. He didn’t even sit down before he started shoveling food into his face.
Alvinius laughed. “I remember that age where you’re growing. You always feel hungry. There’s plenty more, mon cher . Eat until you’re content.”
“Thank you,” Dalish managed around a stuffed mouth.
As Kestrel watched Alivinius watch Dalish, he noticed his happy smile sour. Where those tears in his eyes?
Alivinius blinked and quickly wiped at his face, glancing at Kestrel. “I’ll be back soon. I have some clothes for you to try on,” he said, embarrassment forcing the words out in a rush, before he hurried from the room.
“We’re not going to have to leave here for at least a few more days, right?” Dalish asked, looking at him over a half-eaten loaf of bread.
Kestrel glanced down the hallway, after their departing host. “I hope not. But I need you ready to go at a moment’s notice, okay? Eat what you can, da’len .”
Dalish nodded in agreement, returning to the food.
True to his word, Alvinius returned a little while later with an armful of clothes. He knocked again to announce his presence and waiting for Kestrel to allow him entry. As he waded into the room, he nearly tripped over Dalish who had created a make-shift bed out of towels and was passed out. A hearty snore rose from the mass of towels and Alvinius delicately hopped over Dalish. He managed to avoid kicking the boy, and landed within a few feet of the tub.
Kestrel watched him, warm water soothing away the worries of their escape and reminding him of his former, more amiable ways. “Thank you for your hospitality. It is...unexpected but appreciated.”
Alvinius placed the clothes on the bench, organizing them into two stacks with a big smile on his face. “You’re welcome, mon ami . Now, I have some extra clothes that I thought you and the boy could use. They're nothing fancy, but it didn’t look like you brought much with you.”
Kestrel leaned on the edge of the wooden tub, chin resting on his arm as he continued to watch Alvinius. A puzzled frown met Alvinius when he glanced back at Kestrel. “Why are you being so kind? You owe us nothing.”
Alvinius froze in his organizing of the clothes, back to Kestrel. “I suppose that’s a fair question. You have no reason to trust me.” Pushing the clothes over, he turned around and sat with a heavy sigh, a sad expression on his face.
Kestrel felt the silence was necessary while Alvinius collected his thoughts, so he waited. The dripping of the water pump on the stone floor filled the room.
“You remind me of myself,” Alvinius finally said, words soft and heavy. He reached for his sleeve, loosening the tie before rolling it up to his elbow. Along his forearm was etched a familiar, yet faded marking.
Even though Kestrel didn’t know which House the horseshoe symbol belonged to, he recognized it clearly as a slave brand. His eyes widened, but before he could speak, Alvinius continued.
“I have a similar tale to yours, although not so successful, I’m afraid.” His eyes searched Kestrel’s, some internal debate raging on that Kestrel was not privy to. With another soft sigh, he shut his eyes and started speaking. “My daughter and I managed to escape the family. A pair of slave hunters followed us south as we ran. They almost caught us a few times. We made it outside of town when they finally reached us, except there was only one left. I don’t know what happened to his friend, nor do I care. Anyway, he managed to catch us by surprise. He clubbed me over the head and grabbed my daughter. I guess he realized he wouldn’t make it back to Tevinter with both of us. He left me for dead, but I managed to crawl to this town where the nice barkeep took me in, gave me a job, and left this place to me when she died.”
Kestrel had so many questions, but all he managed to say was, “What a horrible story. Do you know what happened to your daughter?”
Alvinius opened his eyes finally, finding them full of unshed tears. “No. I can only hope they didn’t punish her for my crimes,” he whispered.
His heart broke for the man. To lose his daughter while gaining his own freedom must have been a complicated mess of emotions.
“Please, no pity. I see it all over you face,” he continued as soon as Kestrel started to protest. “That was nearly ten years ago. My girl, if she still lives, is no longer a girl. I gave up hope of finding her long ago.” Forcing a smile, Alvinius slapped his thighs and rose to his feet. He gathered up Dalish and Kestrel’s discarded rags. “I'll ...dispose of these. Try on the clothes if you like. If they’re too big, I can have the tailor swing by for some quick adjustments. I’ll see you in the morning.” He didn’t rush out, but he quickly lowered his sleeve back into place before he left the room, the slumped set of his shoulders reflecting he wasn’t quite over the emotions his story had dredged up.
Still, it could be some sob story to draw him in, get him to lower his defenses, just in time to call the slave hunters on them. They did pay heavily for those that turned in runaways.
“We can trust him, Kestrel. I believe him, and his story,” Dalish said through a yawn.
Kestrel startled from his thoughts and jerked towards Dalish, not realizing he was awake.
Dalish rubbed an eye, muttering, “Are you getting out of the bath soon? I’m sleepy.”
“Yes, of course. Give me just a moment, okay?”
Nodding his head, Dalish started to drift off again.
Kestrel smiled at the sight as he climbed out of the tub. He felt more at ease and more himself than he had in the past several months, even without Dorian by his side. Especially without Dorian by his side. Grabbing a towel, he wrapped it around his waist before slipping on an oversized tunic left by Alivinius. The fabric was inexpensive but soft and well cared for. These were more than just old hand-me-downs.
Leaving the ties loose, he walked over to Dalish and ran his fingers through the boy’s hair. “Dalish, time for bed.”
“Mm…?” he responded, eyes struggling to open.
Kestrel knelt before him and the boy quickly wrapped his arms around his neck. “Dalish, Dalish - you’re too big to carry.”
Dalish groaned and let go, stumbling to his feet.
Kestrel managed to maneuver him out the bath room and up the stairs to his room before he crashed again. He wasn’t far behind, falling into a deep sleep next to the boy.
***
Another nightmare jolted Kestrel awake. Although it quickly faded from his memory, the vision of a dragon tearing into his gut lingered in his mind, even as he carefully pulled loose from a slumbering Dalish. He threw on a tunic over his leggings and paced around the room. The walls began to close in around him, but he fought back the feeling of claustrophobia knowing he shouldn’t leave Dalish alone. Still, his eyes were drawn to the door more often than not on each pass.
With one last glance at Dalish, Kestrel pulled open the door and left the room, swearing he’d only be heading downstairs where he’d be able to keep an eye on the stairway, the only way to get upstairs. He quietly padded down the hallway and down the stairs into the tavern area.
Vin was busy reorganizing some rare bottles of liquor behind the bar. He was so focused on his task, he didn’t even notice Kestrel.
It gave Kestrel a chance to study him. Alvinius’ fiery red hair was loose, cascading down his back in a mess of waves. As Kestrel watched, he gathered it loosely in his hand, sweeping it off his neck and around the front of his shoulder. The stretch of exposed skin was pale, much paler than his own. Muscles shifted as he craned his neck to the side, assessing the new organization. Alvinius was really quite beautiful.
Immediately, Kestrel clamped down on that thought process. He’d just left Dorian a few weeks back and here he was drooling over the next attractive male he saw. Angry with himself, Kestrel yanked the barstool out, startling poor Alvinius with the sudden noise.
Alvinius fumbled with the bottle in hand until it slipped from his grasp and plummeted to the floor. He hit the stone underfoot with a loud crash, shattering and spilling its ruddy contents.
Kestrel froze, feeling extremely guilty for what just occurred.
“You nearly scared the soul right out of my body!” Alvinius said as he spun around.
Kestrel expected to find him angry or upset when their gazes connected, but Alvinius’ face lit up upon seeing him.
“I’m sorry,” Kestrel said, embarrassed still, despite Alvinius’ lack of a negative response.
“Don’t be. It was an old bottle of brandy, but hardly used. No one around here drinks that stuff.”
Alvinus bent down to start picking up the broken glass and Kestrel rushed to his side. “At least let me help clean up the mess,” he offered, already reaching for a large shard. The pervasive smell of brandy invaded his senses, filling his nose and leaving a familiar tang on his tongue without even having a drop. How many times had he kissed Dorian to taste brandy?
“Kestrel…?”
Kestrel blinked hard. Hearing his name pulled him back to the present. All he could do was apologize again.
“Come, let’s leave this mess for later. I have a new cask of spiced wine with our name on it,” Alvinius said with cheer, rising to his feet and offering a hand to Kestrel.
The puddle of brandy and the broken remains of its bottle were too on the mark. Pulling his eyes away from the mess, he took Alvinius’ hand, finding it warm and rough with calluses, much like his own.
The elf’s smile widened, fingers squeezing ever-so-lightly before letting go. Alvinius grabbed a tinted glass bottle from the bar, snagged two wooden goblets to his other hand, and led them over to a table near the stairs. Giving them both a generous pour, he said, “I’m going to tell you about myself in hopes that it bores you enough to go back to sleep. When you’re ready for me to stop, just hold up your hand. Until then, I’ll keep talking, and if your glass goes empty, I’ll keep refilling, deal?”
Kestrel wasn’t sure what there was to agree to. Typically a deal required an ask from both parties, but Alivinius made it clear he had no expectations of him. He nodded his head, hesitant of a catch, but the elf launched into his tale, starting from as young as he could recall.
Alvinius’ voice was deep and surprisingly soothing. About two cups later, as Alvinius described the pony his father gave him on his eighth name day, Kestrel’s eyes started to slip shut. Rather than be rude, Kestrel held up a hand, and just like that, Alvinius stopped talking.
“I’m sorry,” Kestrel said through a yawn.
“It’s quite alright, mon ami . I don’t sleep as much as I should, so the company was more than welcome. If you ever need someone to drone on until you fall asleep, I’m your person. Feel free to come down any night you’re having trouble sleeping.”
***
Kestrel took Alvinius up on his offer nearly every night after that when the nightmares became too much to sleep through. They discussed all sorts of topics, but never Dorian. Kestrel knew Alvinius was aware of a gap in his past, but he never pressured him to speak about it.
The three of them fell into a comfortable pattern around the tavern, cleaning, cooking, and once word got out a healer was in town, caring for the wounded and sick. Kestrel kept firm terms that those who needed healing were to come to the tavern, but into the third week, even that rule was loosened.
News had reached them that there was an old woman who’d fallen and shattered her hip in a neighboring village. Unable to move, she had no way to come to them. Dalish begged and pleaded while Alvinius remained, for once, quiet, as Kestrel thought about it. There’d been no threats, no harassment in the town of Nessum, perhaps venturing out a bit further wouldn’t hurt. Besides, Dalish’s puppy-like expression was hard to refuse.
After going over the rules for their excursion, Dalish sprinted downstairs, eager to eat and be off. Kestrel took a slower approach, making sure he was presentable to the town. He’d been forced naked for so long, it felt good to be able to dress himself even in a simple shirt with pants. Still, one hand proved annoying when trying to roll-up and pin the flimsy material of his shirt around his missing arm.
“Almost ready?” Alvinius asked from the doorway.
Kestrel greeted him with a warm smile, having grown quite close after all their late-night talks and working days spent in close proximity. The sleeve unspooled in his hand, and Kestrel was forced to redirect his attention back to it.
Alvinius entered the room. “Let me help,” he said, stepping closer.
“I can do it,” Kestrel insisted, brow furrowed in concentration.
“I didn’t ask if you could or couldn’t, Inquisitor . Only that you should let me help.”
“I didn’t tell you of my past so you could tease me with an old title,” he retorted with a playful grin.
“Actually, I have a confession to make. Dalish told me who you were a week before you spilled the beans.” He grabbed the flailing sleeve and started to reroll it, Kestrel too surprised to protest.
“Dalish…” Kestrel groaned.
“ He’s quite proud of you, you know. And already has the bar regaled with stories of ‘his friend,’ but I was close to figuring it out myself. There’s only so many one-armed, attractive Dalish elves with the kind of presence you have, mon beau oiseau .” Alvinius reached for the pin on the bed. “Now, mind if I finish what I’ve already started?”
Kestrel blushed and nodded his head. There was no point in complaining now, the job was almost done.
“Such a stubborn man,” Alvinius said fondly. “Glad I could convince you to see reason.” He pinned the sleeve in place. “There we are.”
“Thank you. Truly. It’s been a rough journey, but you’ve been so warm and welcoming. I’ve forgotten what it’s like not to have to treat everyone with suspicion and have my blade always handy.”
Alvinius’ fingers gently grasped Kestrel’s arm, thumb brushing over clothed skin. “Of course. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, mon beau oiseau .” He offered a light peck to Kestrel’s cheek before stepping back. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
Kestrel's heart stuttered with the small expression of affection. Alvinius was quite fond of them, and each gentle touch calmed Kestrel's paranoid, damaged mind. Every time a caress wasn't followed with a blow or an insult, Kestrel relaxed just a bit more in his presence. Alvinius' tenderness was slowly healing Kestrel's mental wounds. As proof, his nightmares had lessened over the last three weeks. He'd only had one in the last several days. So long as the topic of Dorian didn't arise, Kestrel felt more at peace than he had in a long time. Alvinius was to thank.
And that new name from Alvinius? It sounded more intimate that his usual “ mon ami ”. Mon beau oiseau ? He’d have to find out what it meant.
Weekly updates going forward until the story is finished. Find this fic in its entirety on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423880/chapters/25595154
Too scrawny to lift even an emaciated Kestrel, Morven finally permitted a guard to help Dalish with the body, but by the vein that popped out of Morven’s forehead, Dalish knew he’d pay for his weakness soon enough, but he couldn’t worry about that now. He had to see Kestrel’s mission through. If they were successful, that meant his freedom. He’d never been free in his entire life, and he wasn’t sure what to expect. Honestly, it made him a bit nervous, but if his protector, Kestrel, was by his side, he knew he could face anything.
Already Kestrel had given him so much strength. Seeing how he fought against the strong despite being naked and shackled, filled Dalish with such hope. He’d never witnessed someone as inspiring as Kestrel, someone so tenacious in fighting for what he believed in.
He hoped with their freedom, Kestrel could find happiness. He deserved it, and Dalish vowed to do his best to help Kestrel find it, even if it was without Master Pavus.
Morven marched at the head of their rag-tag group while Dalish helped the guard by holding open doors and guiding the man through doorways. He appreciated how gentle and respectful the man was with Kestrel’s body, and the sad smiles he offered Dalish whenever their eyes met - which was often. Dalish kept glancing back to make sure Kestrel wasn’t waking just yet, just to find the guard watching him.
The guard must’ve known about his friendship with Kestrel and took pity on him. It was a rare kindness Dalish was unused to in this house. But this guard was new and Dalish knew it was only a matter of time before this man hardened like the rest. Or left for an easier job. Kindness was not a welcome trait in the Pavus household.
The trek out the back of the house, through the gardens, past the pond, and to the forest behind the house, was a long one. The guard was sweating profusely by the time they arrived at the dug out ditch among a small clearing in the trees.
A black, greasy char coated the sides of the pit, and the lingering smell of burnt meat hung in the air. Nausea nibbled at Dalish’s stomach, causing it to twist and turn as he stared into the dark hole. He’d incinerated so many bodies throughout the years in this exact spot, and it haunted him.
A sharp cuff to his ear snapped him from his thoughts.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing just standing there? Get out of the way!” Morven snapped.
The guard scowled, advancing a step towards Morven in protest.
Morven stood tall, staring the man down. “And you can drop the body in the pit and leave.”
Realizing his arms were still full, the guard grumbled under his breath before turning back towards the hole. Catching Dalish’s gaze, he winced apologetically.
Despite Morven’s command for urgency, the guard continued being gentle with Kestrel’s body, climbing into the pit, mindless of the slick pitch coating of human remains, and carefully lowered him down.
Duty complete, Dalish watched the guard climb out and hesitate, hovering near him while eyeing Morven. Protective. But Dalish knew he shouldn’t linger. The man would either face Morven’s wrath himself, or Kestrel would be forced to hurt him during their escape.
“Well?” Morven said, gesturing impatiently back the way they came.
Dalish smiled at the guard. “Thank you for your help, Master.”
The guard glanced between Dalish and Morven, returning Dalish’s bright smile with a timid one of his own. Deciding it was okay to leave with Dalish’s little push, he nodded his head and left without saying a word.
That guard definitely wouldn’t last long in this house.
“What an imbecile,” muttered Morven, watching the man leave. Once out of their sight, he rounded on Dalish and slapped him hard across the face. “You made me look like a fool in front of the Mistress, you brat.”
Dalish bowed his head, cupping his screaming cheek in silence.
“You were to keep an eye on this slave! Now, because of your failure, he’s dead.”
A backhand this time sent Dalish sprawling. Involuntary tears welled in his eyes, and he tried unsuccessfully to blink them away. Kestrel never cried after one blow.
“You’re fucking useless! I don’t know why I still keep you around!” Morven started to rant.
It was one Dalish was used to. Morven always redirected his self-hatred outward, and Dalish normally took the brunt of it. A heavy kick landed in Dalish’s stomach, sending him spinning towards the pit. He managed to catch himself on the edge, struggling for breath after having the wind knocked from his lungs. He was startled to find a pair of turquoise-blue eyes staring back at him.
Kestrel put a sluggish finger to his lips, and Dalish had to fight back a smile despite the pain he was in.
“We should’ve sacrificed you instead of your mother,” Morven hissed right above him. “At least she was a good fuck, and she didn’t disappoint as often as you do.”
A harsh hold grabbed Dalish’s hair and yanked him up, scalp burning. He glanced back at Kestrel, concerned Morven might’ve noticed him awake, but his eyes were closed again, hand clenched into a fist at his side.
Dalish knew he needed to buy Kestrel more time. The herbs were working, but it would take time before Kestrel would be able to move more. He struggled against Morven’s grip until he managed to wiggle loose. Free for however briefly, Dalish took off deeper into the woods with a triumphant cry.
“Why you fucking piece of...you dare to try to escape!” Morven shouted after him, giving chase.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Kestrel knew his time was limited. If Morven managed to catch Dalish before he could catch-up, the boy would receive a harsher beating than he might survive. Bless the boy for buying him enough time to pull himself from the pit, though.
His body was sluggish and slow to respond, but he hoped once he got moving, the feeling would come back to his limbs. He crawled forward, fingers cutting through the black, grimy crust into the soft dirt beneath. Sadness and disgust plagued him as the ashy remnants of others clung to his skin in a dark stain as he dragged himself out of the ditch.
Stumbling to his feet, Kestrel managed to catch himself on a tree before his knees gave out. “Fenedhis lasa,” he cursed. He needed more strength in his limbs now.
Dalish’s squeal of terror deeper in the woods sent a bolt of adrenaline straight to Kestrel’s heart. Suddenly his limbs were burning with the need to move, to run. He launched himself in the direction of Dalish’s cries.
A short sprint later and he found them. Morven had Dalish beneath him, slamming fist after fist into his face and body.
Without thinking, Kestrel launched himself onto Morven’s back, slinging his arm around the man’s muscular neck and grabbing onto his own shoulder to lock-in the hold.
Morven grabbed onto his arm and pulled, but Kestrel held firm. He might only have one arm, but that one arm had to do the work of two, and it was surprisingly strong.
As Morven lurched to his feet, gasping for air, Kestrel hooked his legs around Morven’s waist. He knew what was coming next.
Stumbling back, Morven slammed Kestrel into a tree, but he held on. Bark scratched and scraped his bare back, Morven desperate to dislodge him. Kestrel pushed every ounce of his hatred into his resolve. This man had tortured and beat him, had overseen his repeated rape, had beaten Dorian and Dalish. There wasn’t an ounce of forgiveness in him that would’ve made him loosen his hold.
As suddenly as he had risen to his feet, Morven dropped back down to his knees, his strength waning. He gaped soundlessly like a fish out of water. The still-fresh, puckered scar was shockingly pale against his purpling face.
“Na din’an sahlin,” he whispered into Morven’s ear as he choked the last bit of life from him. Your death has come.
Kestrel released Morven, watching with a grim satisfaction as his body fell forward, face first into the forest floor. “Enasalin na’emma.” Victory is mine.
A bloodied Dalish rushed him, throwing his arms around him in a big hug. His head hit a deep bruise on his chest right where Dorian had hit him. Even that brief reminder sapped the strength from his limbs. No, no going down that path of thoughts. That path only led to despair.
He allowed himself to revel in the relief flooding through Kestrel with the boy’s contact - he was okay, they were okay - and he crouched down so he could return the hug. He may not have Dorian anymore, but he would do everything in his power to see this boy to safety.
Pulling away, Dalish’s face was a smattering of bloody red, angry marks, sure to swell and bruise shortly. Kestrel’s fingers ghosted over Dalish, searching for broken bones. Fortunately, their luck seemed to be holding.
“There’s a pond not far away. Master Atronis knew to leave horses and supplies he could find for us there,” Dalish said past a swelling lip.
“Oh, da’len, I’m sorry I took so long.”
Dalish shook his head, pushing away his apology. “It’s okay. You fought hard! You really are a protector. My protector.” A soft blush rose between the fresh marks, as Dalish grew shy.
Kestrel grinned despite his heartache, surprisingly proud of being named Dalish’s protector. Still, they didn’t have much time to linger. Turning back to the business at hand, he said, “Okay, okay, enough of this for now. Help me remove his clothes and anything of value. I’m sure we’ll need it.”
Dalish immediately went to work, avoiding Morven’s blank stare but working efficiently to remove his rings, the same ones that left a line of welts along his cheek.
Yanking off Morven’s clothes were easy. He had several layers to choose from and Kestrel settled on a pair of leggings and a large tunic. The rest of the clothes he handed to Dalish before grabbing Morven by the feet and dragging his body over to the pit. It was an arduous task and one that Dalish offered to help with, but Kestrel didn’t want the kid to dirty his hands more than he had to.
It pained him to ask, but once he’d positioned Morven’s body in the ditch, he turned to Dalish. “I need you to burn his body. We have to remove all evidence of what happened here. If there are no bodies, they will have no firm understanding of what’s taken place. Can you do this for me, Dalish?”
Dalish nodded his head and with a jaw set with determination, a stream of flames burst from his palm, bathing Morven’s naked corpse in fire.
Kestrel took the leftover clothes from Dalish and tossed them on top.
The fire burned hot and high, filling the air with the smell of burning hair and charred skin.
Kestrel pushed aside the panic of being branded anew, rationalizing that it wasn’t his body burning this time. His arm still ached in sympathy.
“Okay, time to get cleaned up. Then we’ll stick to the woods until dusk before setting out. If we’re going to be successful, I’ll need you to listen to me, Dalish. Even when you’re tired, hungry, and afraid, I need you to listen to me. Is that clear?”
Dalish smiled, grabbing Kestrel’s hand. “Yes. Everything will be okay so long as you’re with me.”
Kestrel sent a wish to the gods, praying that would prove true.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Kestrel didn’t know how many days they’d traveled across country before they stumbled upon a small village on foot. All of the gold Atronis managed to stash away for them was spent on two healthy horses that lasted most of the journey, but their last horse gone lame a few days ago.
He pulled Dalish up short with a firm grip on his shoulder, keeping them hidden within the woods. Attention gained, he crouched down in front of the boy until their eyes met. “Remember, tell no one you’re a mage, understood?” He waited for a nod of acknowledgement before continuing. “You’ll have to do the talking. If we’re not out of Tevinter, I can’t be seen.” The last village had taught them that lesson, forcing them to flee as the town guard was summoned to hunt them down.
Kestrel glanced through the trees as a pair of humans walked by, deep in conversation. He longed to stealth and scout ahead, but the last time he’d left Dalish alone to steal some food, Dalish had been noticed. Kestrel killed three men, and they only just barely escaped. The Tevinter countryside was not welcoming to runaway slaves.
If they could have afforded it, Kestrel would keep pushing them further south, southwest, but their last bit of scraps had run out two days ago and their waterskin was running dangerously low. Running for their lives during the day coupled with fleeing his nightmares at night had left him ragged and worn. He’d remained strong for Dalish but knew his reserves were diminished. He couldn’t keep going without some food and rest.
“I know. We’ve gone over this a hundred times. I can do this,” Dalish said impatiently, snapping Kestrel out of his sluggish thoughts. He’d softened his tone as he placed a hand on Kestrel’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay. I have a good feeling.”
With a confidence Kestrel was impressed by, Dalish marched towards the village.
The tree line ended at a well-worn dirt road. On the far side sat several two-story stone and wood buildings, each carefully maintained. A white marble statue perched by the door of each structure, men and women captured in stone with different items in hand. One held an apple while another carried a bolt of cloth.
Further down the road, a stone statue of a roaring dragon, mouth agape over a mug of ale. Hopefully, they’d located an inn with a tavern.
Kestrel squeezed Dalish’s shoulder when he looked in that direction, silently indicating which way to go. He only hoped his assumption that it was a tavern was correct.
He tightened his grip on his cloak, praying the hood kept his features hidden well enough as they crossed the paved threshold. He had to deal with the fact that it lessened his peripheral vision.
A quick glance around did, in fact, find them in a tavern, albeit a small one. Only a sole elf manned the bar for a room with no patrons. It was midday, though, so everyone was most likely at work in the nearby fields and orchard they’d passed through.
The elf straightened his back upon their entrance, smiling wide. “Welcome to The Dragon’s Breath. What can I help you with?” His words were tinged with an Orlesian accent. They hadn’t traveled that far, had they?
Of course, he could just be a Tevinter slave. They came from all around. Long sleeves covered his arms and any potential slave brands.
Dalish lowered his hood and returned the man’s smile. “Can you please tell us what town we’re in? We got a bit turned around in the woods after we lost our horse.”
“Nessum, mon cher.”
“In Tevinter?”
The elf frowned. “No, you’re in the grand country of Nevarra.”
Dalish turned around and said, “See, Kestrel? I told you! We made it!”
Kestrel gestured back towards the barkeep, his sleeve rolling up his arm with the movement. He quickly lowered it, fabric sliding back into place.
“Oh, yes, right.” Turning back around, Dalish asked, “Do you get many visitors from Tevinter?”
“Visitors or slave hunters?” he retorted, skeptical brown raised high.
Kestrel’s hand shifted to his belt, blade ready if needed.
“I saw the brand on your friend there,” the elf continued.
Shit. He was too tired and not thinking straight.
“Please, sir. We mean no trouble. We’ll be on our way,” Dalish quickly said, taking a step back, closer to Kestrel. They’d done this dance before.
“How long have you and your friend been running?”
Dalish glanced at him, waiting for permission to answer.
Kestrel nodded but kept his dagger ready.
“At least two weeks, sir.”
“Well, you’ll be pleased to hear that the hunters know they’re not welcome in this town. You’re safe here for as long as you need to stay.”
Certainly this was too much to hope for. It was dangerous to trust anyone.
Dalish’s stomach rumbled loud enough for the elf several paces away to hear.
The man’s serious expression dropped, and he smiled wide again. It appeared honest enough. “And I believe I still have some oatmeal and ham left over from this morning’s breakfast if you’d like.”
“Oh! That sounds—“ Kestrel’s hand on his shoulder stopped him short. They had no money left to pay with.
Kestrel didn’t have to see the boy’s face to know he was close to tears. He could hear it in his voice as he said, “Oh...no, no thank you. We should keep going.”
“No coin? You’re not the first runaways I’ve seen and likely won’t be the last. I’ll give you the same deal I’ve given the others — if you’re not afraid of hard work around the tavern, you can have the small upstairs room and two meals a day. How does that sound?”
Like it was too good to be true.
“Please, can’t we stay for a bit? My feet are so sore and my stomach is going to eat itself. I’ll do all the chores, Kestrel.”
The elf frowned. “You’re going to let your boy do all the labor, friend? You’re going to have to help. He’s a scrawny thing.” He rounded the bar, stepping closer, trying to peer under Kestrel’s hood.
“It’s not like that! It’s just…” Dalish glanced back at Kestrel again. “Do you need a healer?”
“Dalish,” Kestrel hissed.
Dalish plowed ahead. “I-I’m a good healer. Would that be enough to pay for our stay?”
The elf grinned and Kestrel held his breath, ready to run.
“Why yes, yes it would. It’s been a while since we’ve had a healer visit and the Mage’s Circle in Cumberland is so far away. My name’s Alvinius, mon cher. Vin for short, if you like.” He extended his hand and gripped wrists with Dalish before turning his attention to Kestrel. “And you, I have a strict no-hoods-allowed policy here. Scares away the customers. You’re safe here, mon ami. I promise.”
“It’s okay,” Dalish chimed in.
So naive. Still, it was a chance at a hot meal. He at least needed to get the boy some food before they moved on. With a reluctant sigh, he sheathed his blade to lower his hood.
Alvinius’ expression brightened. “A Dalish elf! My elvhen is a bit rusty but andaran atish’an!”
It wasn’t terrible. Kestrel cracked a smile. “Andaran atish’an.”
“Ah! It’s so musical when one of your people speak. You must say more in elven once you’ve had a chance to rest up.”
“Oh? Do you speak elvhen?”
“Nah, only learn how to say ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye,’ but I love listening to it.”
Kestrel found himself laughing at that, soon joined by Alvinius. Alvinius was charming and disarming. Maybe, just maybe they could be safe here for a bit.
“Your room is just up the stairs. I’ll show you the way, and I’ll bring the food while you’re getting settled in.”
“Ma serannas.”
“Now you’re just flirting with me,” Alvinius said with a wink, laughing at Kestrel’s blushing reaction. “You are quite adorable, I must say. Still, I supposed I’ve toyed with you enough for now, mon ami. Come, let me show you to your room.”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
With bellies full, neither Kestrel or Dalish could keep their eyes open, despite the sunlight streaming through the small window in their room — a potential escape route if necessary. They curled up on the single bed together, used to spending cool nights close together for warmth. As he drifted off, Kestrel hugged Dalish close and prayed they’d finally reached a safe haven, even if only long enough to catch their breath.
Harrier pressed him down into the bed and kissed him hard.
Kestrel struggled, pushing against his chest, but it was like trying to move a wall. There was no give, no movement. He whimpered, trying to least to break the forceful kiss.
Harrier’s teeth dug into his lower lip as he yanked away his head, snagging and ripping.
Blood stained his teeth when he spoke. “You taste so sweet, little bird.”
“No…” Kestrel whispered. “Not again. Never again.”
“Yes, you’re mine again, little bird. Surely you realize this,” Harrier said before running his tongue slowly along his teeth, removing the red. “And I’m going to enjoy every minute of our lives together.”
“D-Dorian…” he cried, trying to push Harrier off of him again.
“Why, little bird, do you call for him? He won’t be coming. He thinks you’re dead, afterall.”
“No. No, no, no.”
Harrier laughed, the sound grating and harsh. “You’re all mine!” He gripped Kestrel’s shoulders and started to shake, still laughing, teeth stained crimson again.
“No! Please, no,” Kestrel begged, tears starting to fall.
Another rough shake and Harrier’s features shifted into that of a boy’s.
“Kestrel? Kestrel, it’s okay. It’s just a bad dream.”
The boy’s voice was familiar and calming, but sounded strained.
Connecting the dots, Kestrel realized what was happening, and muttered a sleepy, “Dalish?”
“Kestrel! You’re okay.” He sounded distressed.
“I’m sorry I worried you.”
Dalish brushed away a tear as it ran down Kestrel’s cheek. “It’s the lyrium.” He yawned wide, lying back down. “Are you going to stay in bed?” he asked, pale blue eyes watching him with concern.
“Of course,” Kestrel replied, settling back down next to him. He doubted he’d be able to fall back asleep but Dalish didn’t need to know that.
Nuzzling in close, against his chest, Dalish was sound asleep in moments, his deep, slow breaths warming the skin of Kestrel’s neck.
Without Dalish, Kestrel would’ve been lost. Taking care of the boy, seeing to his needs, protecting him, it’d all kept him from focusing on what he’d seen in that room. He’d witnessed Dorian’s heart break, and it was all his fault. Despite knowing his reasoning was sound, it still killed him to know the pain he’d caused the man he loved. Without Dalish, he’d likely stumble into the Tevinter countryside never to be seen or heard from again. Dalish gave his life purpose. One he’d be sorely lacking without Dorian.
He pulled Dalish close, resting his chin on the boy’s head. He’d protect Dalish until his last breath. They were a pair now, and he had to keep fighting for Dalish, no matter how broken his heart was.
Warning: This chapter contains a fake suicide attempt. Please, don't read if suicide is a trigger for you.
This update may be short, but honestly, it's one of the most emotional ones for me. I cried while writing this chapter. Kes and Dorian are so precious to me, it hurts me to see them in such pain. Depression is also something that I struggle with, so that made writing this even more emotionally taxing for me.
The beautiful image at the beginning is from the wonderful @flavoredmagpie on Tumblr. It's the Three of Swords tarot card which stands for heartache, grief, and sadness. Dorian's trying to protect Kestrel from the swords' damage, while Kestrel is poised to kiss Dorian goodbye. The hand around Kestrel's neck is meant to trap. Dorian is desperate not to let him go. It's a tragic card, and @flavoredmagpie did it justice. They were even able to add in the kestrel and peacock feather details. Please commission them if you're able to! <3
If you haven't had a chance, please check out the other artwork I've added to Chapter 1 & Chapter 37 of this fic, and the ones I've added to "Cicada's Chorus" and "Everything You Want." (I'm going crazy since I figured out how to add images to AO3 updates XD)
Weekly updates going forward until the story is finished. Find this fic in its entirety on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423880/chapters/25595154
Kestrel stared at the small glass bottle in his palm, dancing light from the candelabra dancing through the green-tinted surface onto his bed. Soon, he thought, I’ll be free of here. Or dead. It doesn’t matter so long as Dorian is free again. Free of him. Free of the tethers of their relationship, of his race, of his former status. Green licked at the golden band around his finger. He thought about removing it, leaving it on the nightstand, but quickly discarded that thought. He’d have to give up on being with Dorian again, without even the slimmest of hopes of being reunited, but that didn’t mean he had to give up what they had, what they shared in time past. However short their reunion was, it was incredibly sweet. Even if his plan to fake his death failed tomorrow, and he ended up truly dying, he had those memories to hold on to as he slipped into the Void. Still, he owed it to Dalish not to give in to his buried, dark wish for the poison to be too strong. He needed to get the boy out of this torture house.
He flopped back onto his pillow and held the bottle aloft, liquid undulating with the sudden shift. Odd that such a small thing would determine the next stage of his existence. Kestrel lost himself in the green glass and the endless escapes reflected on its translucent surface. He knew sleep would elude him like every other night in this prison since his torture. At least the fantasies kept the hallucinations in the peripheral.
The night passed slowly, and even when morning finally came about, it was a gray and sullen thing. No sun breached the overcast skies from what Kestrel could tell through his opaque windows.
He eyed the food tray someone had deposited in his room in the early morning once he finally dozed, but left its contents untouched, too nervous about the day’s events. Next to the tray sat the poison and a noose crafted from his woven sheet. The noose was crude but would do the trick.
In the middle of the night, Kestrel thought about penning a letter to Dorian, except he had neither utensil nor paper. He then had the wonderful idea of carving his feelings into the table’s surface, but any words of comfort he’d thought of fell flat. All that hinted at his idea were a few shallow scratches along the dark wood.
He paced back and forth to ease his nerves, waiting for the light knock on his door from Dalish that would signal to drink the near-deadly draught. Time crawled, and just as Kestrel began to worry the knock would never come, a faint rapping sounded on his door. Three taps, a pause, and two more - their signal.
Taking a deep breath, Kestrel uncorked the bottle and swallowed its contents in one gulp without hesitation. There was no turning back now. The poison tasted bitter, but not unpleasant, like the wild greens his Clan used to collect in a nearby field.
Recalling the next step of his plan, he walked into the bathroom, stood on the bench over his chamber pot, and dropped the vial out the small window. He didn’t even hear it hit the ground below. Next, he tied the end of his makeshift noose to the top of his bedpost, securing it with a sturdy knot. Last, he slung the fabric over his head and around his neck. It hung loose for a moment before he worked the knot down. With a tug, he found the noose snug and secure and the bed frame sturdy.
Kestrel knew the next part would be the most difficult of his plan. While he wasn’t actually going to hang himself, he needed to make sure he looked like he had. That meant the appropriate bruising around his throat. And he needed to accomplish this before the poison took full effect. Already he noticed his vision blurring with too sudden a movement.
Another deep inhale and Kestrel threw himself opposite the bed. He heard the wooden frame groan in protest as the noose pulled taunt and yanked him backwards. Sputtering and grabbing his neck against the pain, he took only a moment to collect himself before flinging outward again. This time he stumbled and fell to the ground, nearly strangling himself in earnest. The noose was tied too high on the post to allow him close enough to the floor.
Panting with the effort and feeling like every muscle fought him, Kestrel pulled himself up so he could readjust the knot. It took several attempts as his fingers refused to cooperate, turning numb and gray from the poison. Strained breathing echoed in his pounding head, and he swallowed against a suddenly parched throat. With the poison running swiftly through his veins now, Kestrel carefully lowered himself down to the floor at the foot of the bed, granted just enough length of his tether to be allowed to sit. Then the world went black.
***
“Kestrel?” questioned a soft voice, forcing him to open his eyes. The sight before him was almost too much for him to wrap his mind around.
He sat on the floor, naked as usual these days, at the foot of the bed, noose around his pale, deathly gray face. Body listing to the side, his features were slack, eyes staring without seeing. So then how was he seeing everything before him now?
“Kestrel,” the voice said, more insistent this time.
He turned to the source, finding Cole standing next to him with a troubled expression.
“You’re close to the Veil. Your pain called me to you. I want to fix this, but I can’t,” he said, sounding sad. “You know this will hurt him. It will cause a hurt so deep-”
“Kes?” called Dorian, door opening.
Kestrel watched Dorian’s tentative smile fall as his eyes landed on his slumped over form.
“Kes!” he yelled, bolting over to Kestrel’s lifeless body.
Atronis trailed behind him, hands clasped tight.
Dorian made quick work of the noose, gentle even in his haste to remove the fabric from around Kestrel’s neck. Freed, Dorian cradled Kestrel to his chest, muttering through an already tear-stained face, “No, Kes. No, you can’t leave me like this. Anything but this.”
“He believes you’re dead, but you’re not. Almost not. Why do you lie to him? Why do you cause him pain if you love him?”
Kestrel ignored Cole’s questions, cupping his hand over his mouth as he watched Dorian kiss him, lips pressed firmly against his own. He felt nothing in this spirit form.
Dorian held the kiss even as his tears dropped from his cheeks onto Kestrel’s, as if he believed his will alone would be enough to bring Kestrel back to life, like a childhood fairytale where wishes and belief were enough to cause miracles. Such miracles remained a thing of myth as Kestrel failed to stir.
Kestrel watched with a breaking heart as Dorian held him close with one arm and slid Kestrel’s blank gaze closed with the other hand.
“I can’t even blame you, amatus . I put you in this situation, and you saw no other option out. I’m so sorry I failed you,” Dorian whispered, though his voice creaked and threatened to stop. He trailed his hand lightly over the bruising around Kestrel’s throat before drifting over his heart. “ Vishante kaffas !” he suddenly shouted, slamming his fist down hard on Kestrel’s chest, only to fall into a well of tears and cradle Kestrel close once more.
“Dorian,” Atronis said softly. “We should go. Your mother-”
Shaking his head, Dorian mumbled, “No, not without…” He trailed off, focusing on pulling the ring from Kestrel’s finger. Except it didn’t budge. He tried again, and again, and again. Finally, attempt abandoned, Dorian slumped against the bed. “Nothing? You leave me nothing to remember you by, amatus ?”
Kestrel fought back his own ghostly tears, struggling to keep himself rooted by Cole. Would Dorian feel his ghostly presence if he reached out? Then a thought came to him, spurred on by that one word. Nothing . Turning to his spirit friend, he pleaded, “Make him forget me, please. Without his memories of me, he won’t be sad. Leave him nothing to remember me by.”
Cole looked between the two of them. “Memories as big as those will leave a void too large to fill.”
“He doesn’t need it filled, just to forget, Cole. I’m begging you.”
“Would you forget him?”
Knowing where this was going, Kestrel sighed. “No. My memories are the only thing I have left of him now. I can’t give those up.”
Cole nodded his head in agreement. “I imagine Dorian will feel the same, once the blinding agony dies to a dull pain.”
Before Kestrel could argue with Cole further, Dalish rushed into the room, blue bottle in hand. Eyes wide, he was clearly surprised to find Dorian and Atronis still there. He quickly hid the bottle behind his back. “Oh no! What’s happened to Master Kestrel?” he asked, the question stilted with his play acting.
Dorian didn’t notice, murmuring, “He killed himself.” He ran his fingers through Kestrel’s hair in a loving caress.
Kestrel’s eyes followed Dorian’s hand, longing for his touch one final time.
“Dorian, we need to leave. You’ll be the first person to blame for his death.”
“But I can’t...I can’t leave him like this.”
Atronis sighed, growing frustrated. “Well, you can’t take him with you!” he snapped.
Dorian jolted as if physically slapped, but didn’t look away from Kestrel. “I should have. After Solas turned against us, after the Inquisition disbanded, if I’d just let him come with me from the start, we wouldn’t be here.” His voice hardened with each word, anger turned inward.
The scene before Kestrel blurred for a moment before refocusing.
“An antidote is needed soon,” Cole said from his side. “Otherwise his pain will be for nothing.”
Dalish shifted on his feet, eyes darting nervously around. He too realized time was running out to have the antidote administered.
“Come on, Pavus, your time is up. Mistress said only a few moments, but I knew you’d push-” Morven’s complaining stopped suddenly as he entered upon the scene from the hallway. “What the fuck…?”
“We found him like this, I swear!” Atronis spoke up.
Morven sneered. “Oh, I’m sure you did! Wait until Mistress sees what her precious son has done to her prized pet. Guard!” He stormed out of the room.
“Fuck,” Atronis and Kestrel said at the same time. This was exactly what they didn’t want to happen.
As they panicked, Dalish knelt before Dorian and asked, “May I see him? I promise I’ll give him right back.” He spoke softly, like speaking to a traumatized child.
Kestrel held his breath, or maybe that was the poison taking its toll on his lungs. The scene faded again, returning with a clear picture of Kestrel’s body in Dalish’s arms.
Dorian remained close, a near corpse himself at his lack of acknowledgement of anything but Kestrel. One of his hands still lingered on Kestrel’s chest, unwilling to separate.
“Dorian,” Atronis said, kneeling by his side and pulling on his shoulders. It was enough to drag Dorian’s attention to him, if only for a moment.
Still, it was long enough for Dalish to uncork the blue bottom and pour its contents into Kestrel’s mouth.
“We need to-”
“What are you doing to him?” Dorian said, snatching Kestrel’s body away from Dalish in the next heartbeat. He looked Kestrel over, but finding nothing amiss, he simply frowned at the boy.
“I’m sorry, Master Pavus. I was confirming his death.” Dalish rose to his feet and bowed before moving off to the side, toying with the hem of his shirt.
Now they had a different issue. The antidote took longer than the poison to work, but a lot needed to happen before Kestrel could come back to life, leaving them little time to accomplish everything with.
Cole asked, “Why do you torment each other? I don’t understand.”
Watching Dorian whisper against his cheek, Kestrel couldn’t look away when he responded. “This way he’ll be free of me, Cole. He’ll be able to live his life without me holding him back.”
“I thought you bright, but you are blind. He’ll never be free of you, because he doesn’t want to be,” Cole stated, disappointed. He shook his head, the wide brim of his hat flopping.
“All the more reason to make him forget, Cole!”
“Now you’re the one who does not understand. If I force his memories away, he’ll be left with nothing. You’ve filled him to the brim with hope, love, sadness, and despair. So many emotions tangled around you. If I pull you out, like a stopper in a basin, everything will rush out, leaving him empty. No, your ask creates more harm, more pain. I will not do it.”
Cole glanced at him, tension easing. “I hope one day you realize that you cause each other more happiness than pain,” he muttered.
Kestrel was left no time to rebut. Morven had returned with Aquinea, standing over Dorian as his judge and jury, yet Dorian didn’t even acknowledge them, still murmuring against Kestrel’s cheek. “We have to bury you, amatus . I remember the Dalish customs, I promise.”
“Morven, you really believe my son is to blame?” Aquinea asked, voice cold as her glare on him.
“I...I mean, who else could’ve caused this?” Morven stammered, flushing red under her studious stare.
“Do you not see the noose next to the slave’s body? Turns out you did break his mind, after all. No one has recovered from the red lyrium, it was a miss to think this elf could have beaten the odds. Now you’ve distressed my son.” She clicked her tongue against her teeth, admonishing Morven, even as she knelt besides Dorian.
Aquinea curled an arm around Dorian’s shoulder. “Come now, son. It is time you leave this body behind. His soul has moved on as should you.”
“Mother?” Dorian acknowledged through tear-stained cheeks, looking up at her.
“Yes, my boy. Let’s get you some food and brandy. It’ll soothe your heartache.” She looked over at Morven, saying, “You will see to the disposal of his body. This is, afterall, your fault.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Morven said with a bow, although Kestrel could see the irritation etched into his features, hidden from everyone else.
“Now, let go of him, Dorian,” Aquinea said with an air of command.
Dorian did as told, reacting more than thinking, as he latched on to what little motherly comfort Aquinea extended to him. He lowered Kestrel’s body to the floor and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and into Aquinea’s waiting arms. “There, there. This is just like when you were a boy and that carriage ran over your cat. You recovered well enough from that, you’ll be fine here too.”
Dorian numbly nodded, not hearing her words, but soaking in her soothing tone.
He broke through her spell once, latching on to Dalish’s shoulder. “Bury him with a staff and a cedar branch. And plant a tree over his body. Please.”
Dalish nodded quickly.
“Come now, son,” Aquinea said, pulling them apart. Arm still over Dorian’s shoulder, Aquinea escorted Dorian from the room.
Definitely not what they wanted.
Atronis glanced at Kestrel and then at Dalish.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Morven sneered. “Maybe you’ll actually stand a chance of getting into Pavus’ pants now that his pet elf is dead. There’s no one left to cockblock you.”
Atronis turned a furious red, and Kestrel thought he might actually punch Morven. Instead, his clenched fists stayed at his sides as he snarled, “Fuck off,” and stormed from the room.
Room cleared, Morven walked over to Kestrel’s body and landed a solid kick to his ribs. “That’s for leaving me with another mess of yours to clean up!” He kicked him again, and Dalish took a step forward, but stopped before he Morven noticed him. “That’s because your death should’ve been mine.” Morven spit on Kestrel. “And that’s because I’m glad you’re dead,” he whispered.
Stepping back, he turned his attention to Dalish. Nose wrinkled in disgust, Morven said, “Grab his body, boy. Be quick about it. I’d like to get him in the pit before he shits himself.”
Weekly updates going forward until the story is finished. Find this fic in its entirety on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423880/chapters/25595154
Kestrel jerked awake, sitting straight up, hand clasped around his own throat protectively to ward off wolf fangs. It did nothing to restrain the strangled cry that escaped. Heart pounding, breath heavy, his eyes darted around his surroundings, wide with fright.
It only took a moment for Kestrel to recognize the room that caged him in. He was back in his cushiony prison in the Pavus manor. Long shadows shifted along the floor and walls, seeped in the night’s darkness.
He glanced at the window but nothing blocked the filtered moonlight through the opaque glass. Where were the shapes coming from? A chill ran down his spine when one shadow branched off and sprouted defined, taloned fingers. Kestrel watched in horror as the hand stretched wide before snapping into a fist.
Too terrified to scream, he scrambled to the far corner of the bed, up against the wall, and yanked the blanket over his head. He cowered like a child haunted by nightmares, straining to hear over his own panicked panting loud in his ears.
A soft, repetitive tapping echoed through the quiet room.
Kestrel held his breath.
Several moments passed before the sound repeated, louder this time. Closer. Like nails cascading on wood.
Kestrel shrunk as much as he could into the bed, back plastered against the wall.
His breath came in quick, hysterical bursts, and his heart threatened to leap from his throat, pulse erratic in his neck.
Something was in the room with him.
Heavy talons thudded on the floor next to the bed, closer still, louder still, before slowly digging in and dragging, clawing, scraping at the wood.
His heart pounded on the walls of his chest, the noise rivaling his shaky, loud gasps. Please go away. Leave me alone, Kestrel wanted to scream but his voice was buried under his terror.
And then as quickly as it had started, it stopped. Silence. No more scratching, no more tapping, just blessed silence.
Kestrel sagged against the wall in relief. Whatever it was decided to pass him by.
As the blanket started to slip from the top of his head, there was a sudden pressure next to him on the bed. A low, threatening growl pressed against his ear, warm, only the blanket separating Kestrel from whatever beast sat on the other side. Warm, fetid breath bled through the thin barrier.
He froze. This was it. This would be his death, massacred in the Pavus countryside manor by some stray monster. With a shuddering breath, he released his terror and closed his eyes, ready for what was to come.
“Master Kestrel?”
The blanket was pulled away and light flooded everything. Kestrel blinked against the sudden brightness and confusion.
Once his eyesight acclimated, Kestrel’s watery eyes met the curious blue gaze of Dalish.
“Are you okay?” he asked, brow furrowed in concern.
Sunlight poured through the window, illuminating every corner. A quick look around the room confirmed there were no monsters in waiting. In fact, the pink and yellow striped wallpaper looked especially cheery in the warm light. No beasts of evil lurking here.
“Master Kestrel?”
The worry in Dalish’s voice pulled Kestrel’s attention back to the boy perched a foot away, even as he struggled to respond. “I...I’m okay.”
Dalish’s relief was tangible. A huge grin broke out on his face as he said, “After everything Master put you through, I wasn’t sure you’d find your way back. No one has before. Maybe it was because he interrupted…” He trailed off in thought.
Kestrel used the silence to grasp at vague memories floating along his thoughts, frowning at how difficult such a simple task was.
“You seem lost, Master Kestrel.”
“...what happened?” There were so many hazy memories, he wasn’t sure what was real. Corypheus, Harrier, Dorian, Solas? It was all a jumbled mess. Was he clawed? Whipped? Raped? Throat ripped out? So many terrors and they all seemed so real.
“You were forced to take red lyrium and tortur-”
That wasn’t what was important. “Dorian. Was Dorian there?” he asked, interrupting.
“Magister Pavus? Yes...he arrived and was tortured too after making a deal with Mistress Aquinea.” Noticing Kestrel paling, he quickly continued, “But he’s okay now! I saw to his healing and then won’t be any major scars from the whipping.”
A memory of Dorian surfaced, smiling at him while his blood sprayed through the air. He’d wished Dorian’s agreement with his mother didn’t follow right after. Kestrel groaned. “Two months, right?”
Dalish nodded his head. “But he said he will figure out a way to get you out of here, Master Kestrel. He doesn’t want you to worry. He will come up with a new plan to free you.”
A plan? Wait, that sounded familiar. Didn’t he have a plan of his own...? His memory was still a haze, likely from the lyrium, like pulling a stuck boot from a pond of mud.
“He loves you very much. I can tell,” Dalish said with a soft smile.
Give up the one person I love most to protect the one person I love most. His conversation with Solas came rushing back to him. But maybe that wasn’t necessary if Dorian had something else in the works? No, he couldn’t depend on Dorian’s plan. Look where that’d gotten them last time. Dorian had been beaten and forced into a deal he felt he couldn’t refuse. What would they hold over him if another failed rescue attempt happened? Dorian might not survive another attempt, and if he lost Dorian...
He needed to be the one to save both of them, even if it meant they’d never see each other again. That meant getting a plan started.
“Dalish, what happens to the slaves when they die here?”
Dalish averted his gaze with a frown. “Why are you asking that?” he muttered.
Kestrel reached out and took the boy’s hand. The skin to skin contact sent an unpleasant chill up his arm, but he persisted. Dalish was harmless. “It’s important. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”
Toying with the hem of his shirt, Dalish said softly, “Their bodies are taken to the edge of the woods. By the pond. There’s a...a pit there. The guards carry the body to the pit, and I burn them.”
“How many guards help you?”
“Usually only one or two.”
This plan just might work. Kestrel crushed the hope fluttering in his chest before it could grow, focusing on his next question. “Are you always the one who cremates their bodies?”
Dalish glanced at him, tears in his eyes. “I don’t like these questions, Master Kestrel.”
“I…” He’d shifted into Inquisitor mode without even realizing it. Grimacing, Kestrel apologized, “I’m sorry, Dalish. I know it must’ve been tough for you to do that each time.”
The apology seemed to evaporate Dalish’s unshed tears. He forced out a small, sad smile. “If I didn’t do it, no one else would. And I...I made them a graveyard, you know. Once their bodies are burned, I collect their remains and bury them. So there’s something of them that’s left. No one should be forgotten. Even a slave.”
Kestrel scooped Dalish into an immediate hug. What a horrible task to do, and yet Dalish did it without complaint. How could someone remain so kind-hearted after all the trauma he’d experienced? He’d failed that test himself, becoming bitter and angry after everything he’d been forced through. Maybe that was a child’s resilience in play.
Dalish squeaked in surprise but settled against him readily enough, tucking his head under Kestrel’s chin.
“Leave with me, Dalish,” Kestrel said. “I’ll have a way to escape soon, and I want you to come with me.”
Dalish snuggled close and said into his chest, “I made a promise to you, Mast-” He stopped himself short. “...Kestrel. I’ll runaway with you, so long as you stay my protector.”
He hadn’t done a good job of protecting Dorian. He wasn’t sure he even deserved to be viewed as a protector anymore, but Dalish needed him, and he would never abandon a person in need.
“I promise,” he breathed into Dalish’s blonde hair, holding him close.
They remained like that for a while, enjoying the shelter and peace they offered to each other, even if only temporarily.
****************
Kestrel’s daily schedule proceeded normally as if he hadn’t been tortured within an inch of his life and had his mind warped by red lyrium. The demon returned to milk him each morning. Kestrel no longer fought the process and lost himself to the demon’s ministrations. At least the creature humored him and assumed Dorian’s visage. They both understood the sessions went easier when “Dorian” was present.
Dalish collected blood every several days in smaller doses, shipped off for whatever nefarious purposes it was used for. Kestrel didn’t care about that either. He spent day after day locked in his room, visitors limited to only those two - Dalish and the demon. Even Morven stayed away.
His nights were spent sleepless, hiding from the shadows that plagued him into the early morning before he passed out from exhaustion.
Time crept by.
Almost a week later, a loud knock on his locked door interrupted the boring monotony of his day.
“Kes?”
He’d recognize that voice anywhere. “Dorian!” he cried as he ran over to the door and tried the handle. It wiggled but didn’t give, still locked.
“After some insistence, mother agreed to let me speak with you, even if we’re not permitted to see one other.”
Kestrel pressed his forehead against the wooden surface, certain he could feel Dorian’s warmth from the other end. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Am I okay? You were the one who was nearly killed last I saw you.” His voice broke and he paused. “I’m just thankful to hear your voice, amatus.”
“See? He’s fine. I’m not even allowed to see him anymore,” Morven hissed from the other side of the door. “Luckily, Mistress was feeling generous today, letting you visit his room after agreeing to her pick of your bride.”
What? Kestrel’s heart stopped. He was the one who was supposed to marry Dorian, not some woman selected by his mother. He clenched his hand into a fist, the weight of his ring digging into his finger. “You already have your wife selected…?” He tried to sound anything but devastated by the news.
“I promise you, it means nothing, Kes.” Dorian was quick to reassure as best as he could through the wooden barricade.
“Lucky bastard has netted a gorgeous woman, pet. And she comes from good breeding with a strong magical lineage. Young too,” Morven said loud enough for Kestrel to hear. “Bet after a couple rounds with her, he’ll forget all about you.”
There was a loud crash and the door shook with the force of a sudden impact.
Morven laughed, right on the other side of the door. “Someone’s a bit touchy. I’ll overlook the rough treatment only because the slaves are still scrubbing your blood off the dungeon floor. But try that again, and I’ll have you right back down there.”
“It’s okay. I know it’s not true,” Kestrel said, earning another chuckle from Morven.
“Amatus, I...I must be leaving now, but I’ll stop by for another visit as soon as I can. Don’t worry.”
The last sentence held an extra weight behind it.
He wouldn’t worry any more. He knew exactly what he needed to do. “Goodbye, ma vhenan,” he whispered into the warm wood.
****************
The sunlight filtered through the opaque glass, settling on Dalish and Kestrel in the oversized bed. Dalish sat on the edge, monitoring the collection of blood from Kestrel’s arm as he laid on his back. Subtle shapes shifted along the ceiling, but he’d grown used to those over the last few weeks. Shadows haunted him even during the day now.
“How are you feeling?” Dalish asked, voice soft with concern.
“Fine. I’m fine.” Truth was, his head spun, and nausea nibbled at his stomach from the blood draw, but Dalish had to gather a certain amount each week. If he didn’t return with the correct, ample amount, he’d face punishment, not Kestrel. He was off-limits for the time being. Safe from any torture while Aquinea waited for her deal with Dorian to be upheld. Good thing he’d be seeing that never happened soon. If Atronis would ever show up.
The door flew open so hard, it slammed into the far wall. Both Kestrel and Dalish startled, jostling the needle loose from his vein and sending a spray of blood outward in protest. Kestrel sat up even as Dalish clamped a hand over the wound, pushing healing magic into it.
Atronis stormed in, cheeks flushed with anger. As soon as his eyes found Kestrel, they narrowed. “You...this is all your fault!”
Wish and you shall receive. Maybe he should’ve wished Atronis away at that moment. It would save Kestrel the inevitability of punching him.
“Do you have any idea the trouble you’ve caused me this last week?” he snarled.
“What? From my prison of a room?” Kestrel said, keeping the snark from his voice, but not the sarcasm from his words.
“You know what I mean!”
Kestrel tilted his head, a small smile playing across his lips. It was a dangerous thing, and Dalish instinctively pulled away. “I’m a bit dense, you know. Why don’t you spell out how I’ve managed to inconvenience you when you’re the one who put me here.”
Atronis floundered for a moment, sputtering and rolling his eyes. Finally, he brushed Kestrel’s words aside and continued his rant, “My slaves have been bothering me nonstop over the last week to come see you. I kept insisting I had better things to do. And, honestly, they shouldn’t even be talking to me that way! This morning, I woke up, and they were all gone! Only a letter was left behind in their absence. It instructed that I was to visit you and…” He paused to glance behind him out the open doorway and the guard positioned right outside. He inhaled deeply, taking a moment to calmly shut the door. As soon as the barrier was in place, he whispered, “Bring this package to you. Discreetly. How did you manage to get my slaves to do your bidding from here?” The volume of voice rose with each word, incredulous.
“They’re not doing my bidding, I assure you.”
Atronis retrieved a bundle from behind his robe and tossed it on the loveseat. “That’s not even the worst of it! Do you know what I had to agree to do to even have this time with you?”
By the disgusted look on his face, Kestrel had an idea. Still, he owed this man a lot. “No, not a clue,” he answered, sliding off the bed. He quickly grabbed the bedpost as his vision darkened around the edges.
“I have to...to…!” Atronis flushed for an entirely different reason this time.
Collecting his bearings, Kestrel took a few steps towards Atronis, a pleasant smile plastered on his face. “You have to…?”
Atronis held up a small vial, and Kestrel swore his skin turned a bit green. “I must collect you...your…”
A few more steps. “You’ve never been at such a loss of words before. Spit it out.” The closer he crept, the more his calm started to crumble, revealing an endless pit of screaming rage.
Atronis stumbled back a step into a chair as Kestrel stalked too close. “Your spunk. I’m to collect a vial of your spunk before I leave here.”
“Poor you,” murmured Kestrel, fist already balled and heading towards Atronis’ revolted features. It connected with a satisfying crunch, sending the taller man staggering back, clutching his face. Atronis never saw the attack coming, never considering Kestrel a physical threat to him.
“Poor, poor you,” Kestrel sneered over him. “Your privileged life is so fucking awful. Your slaves abandoned you for a day, boohoo. You have to ask me to jerk off into a tube for you, boo-fucking-hoo.”
Crouched down, Atronis watched him, fearful, through his protective fingers splayed over his bleeding nose.
Kestrel heard Dalish murmur a revered “whoa” from his side. He paid it no mind, launching into a long awaited, fury-fueled tangent. “Meanwhile, I’m fucking beaten, raped, and tortured daily all because your pride couldn’t handle Dorian liking someone more than you!” He closed the new distance between them in a flash, grabbing Atronis by the throat and pinning him against the chair. “Worst still, Dorian is fucking beaten and tortured and forced to marry some woman all because you’d rather he suffer, because he doesn’t want to be with you!”
“L-Look, I--” Atronis stammered, eyes bulging.
Kestrel squeezed, silencing him. “I don’t want to hear your excuses,” he hissed, rage making his eyes burn.
Kestrel expected Atronis to fight, to grab onto his arm and struggle to break his hold, but the man just slumped, eyes closing. Startled, Kestrel released him to slide the rest of the way to the floor.
Once there, Atronis buried his face in his hands, careful of his nose. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” he said into his palms, voice muffled. “I just…”
“Wanted me out of the way and didn’t consider any consequences like the spoiled brat you are,” Kestrel finished for him, the anger fleeing and leaving him drained and unsteady on his feet.
“Ah! Master Kestrel, please sit,” Dalish said, suddenly by his side. He guided him over to the loveseat, hovering as his hands wrung the edge of his shirt in worry.
“I’m fine, Dalish. Do you mind checking on the asshole? I most likely broke his nose,” Kestrel said. He sank heavily into the loveseat as he watched Dalish cautiously kneel before Atronis.
The man lowered his hands without prompting. Sure enough, his nose rested at an odd angle, blood still oozing from the split skin on the bridge and from the nostrils.
The sight twisted Kestrel’s stomach in some confusing mixture of guilt and dark satisfaction.
Dalish realigned Atronis’ nose without warning, only releasing him when Atronis jerked away. “That was the painful part. Now I can heal it, Master. If you’ll permit me.”
Atronis’ cautious gaze never left Kestrel, even as he nodded his head in permission to Dalish’s request.
Watching Atronis’ nose mend with magic, Kestrel muttered, “You’re lucky I didn’t have a blade in hand. Dalish wouldn’t be able to heal the damage I would’ve done then. It would’ve been too quick of a death for what you did to Dorian, to me, but it would’ve been satisfying enough.”
Dalish, finished with his healing, turned towards Kestrel, light blue eyes wide with surprise at the vehemence in his voice.
Atronis swallowed hard, paling with the threat.
Both staring at him with those wide eyes, it suddenly struck him how similar they looked. Sure, their hair color was different but those pale eyes, that nose. Even their lips. Without thinking, he blurted, “Are you two related?”
Startled gazes shifted from him to each other, everyone grateful for a change in topic.
“Who’s your father, boy?” Atronis asked with a frown.
“I...I don’t know, Master. He’s someone of wealth and power from what I’ve been told.”
“And your mother?”
“She was a house slave. She was a Dalish elf before she was sold to House Pavus.”
“She was always Dalish,” Kestrel softly corrected, earning him a glance from Dalish and a nodding acknowledgement.
“Sounds like my bastard of a father,” grumbled Atronis. He pulled himself to his feet, leaning against the chair with a wince. “I suppose it’s possible we’re related. I have a few half-siblings out there already. What’s one more,” he said with a shrug, as if that was the end of the discussion.
“But Dalish could be your brother!” Kestrel insisted. The more he looked between Atronish and Dalish, the more he was convinced.
“And? He’s also a slave. I am next in line to our House name after my father. Another sibling, especially a slave, doesn’t change that. Anyway, what’s so important that I had to trek all the way out here and bring that sack of herbs? After the welcome I received, I should just walk right out that door, tell the guard I’ve been assaulted and laugh as you get what you deserve. Bunny.”
Kestrel clenched his jaw. He could punch Atronis again for his nonchalance at finding a half-brother. Of course, why should he be surprised? Atronis cared only for himself. He was already starting to rise before he realized it. Atronis flinched away before he could hide it. That gave him a sliver of pleasure. At least the asshole wasn’t so dismissive of him now.
He settled his rear against the loveseats’s arm instead of advancing further. “I need your help.” Atronis immediately opened his mouth in protest, but Kestrel held up his hand, continuing, “For Dorian.”
That cut off any further protest better than Kestrel’s gesture had. Maybe Atronis didn’t care solely about himself. Maybe a small fraction of him cared for Dorian. He needed his help if his plan were to work, which meant playing on that emotion.
“Dorian is getting married because of the corner you’ve backed him into.”
Atronis sneered. “Perhaps if you weren’t so pathetic, it wouldn’t--”
“Fine. The corner we’ve backed him into. Satisfied?” He only spoke again once Atronis grudgingly nodded his head. “Aquinea is using me to hold Dorian hostage to her will. If I’m no longer in the picture, he’ll be free.”
Atronis extended his hand, a long sword materializing in his grip. It glowed, light brightening at its tip as it was oriented at Kestrel. “So I kill you. It’ll be my pleasure. Maybe then Dorian will stop pining after you.”
Kestrel rolled his eyes. “And what will Dorian think when he finds out you’re the one that murdered me? What will his mother do? Your father? I may be Aquinea’s captive, but I hold a lot of value to her alive.”
With an annoyed huff, Atronis waved the blade away. “Fine. I assume you have a better idea?” He sounded less than pleased about it.
“Perhaps if you quit interrupting me, I will have a chance to get to it,” Kestrel snapped and Atronis summoned the sword back, holding it defensively before him.
Kestrel ignored it. “My death needs to be my doing, so no blame can fall elsewhere. Dalish,” the boy jumped with his name, attention snapping back to Kestrel, “I’ll need you close enough but not in the room with me before or immediately after, understood?”
Dalish hesitated, wiping at his eyes. “I-I don’t want you to die.”
“Shh,” Kestrel soothed, reaching out to run his fingers through Dalish’s hair. “There will only be the appearance of death. That’s what the herbs are for. I’ll need your help making a precise concoction. Can you do that for me, Dalish? It’s our chance to get out of here. Together.”
“...Okay,” Dalish said.
Kestrel knew that expression on the boy’s face. It was one of absolute trust. He only hoped he was deserving of it. Time would tell. He offered Dalish an appreciative smile before turning his attention away.
“Atronis, I need you to be with Dorian during his next weekly visit two days from now. You’ll be able to vouch for his whereabouts, although I doubt Aquinea will blame him. More importantly, I need him to see my body as proof of my death. Then get him out of here safely. He shouldn’t linger in case Aquinea decides that with my death, Dorian should also die.”
“Okay, sounds simple enough. And then, what? You manages to escape while they’re disposing of your body, and once you’re over the border, you reach out to Dorian to let him know you’re okay? Plan on having him drop everything and come running to you in Nevarra or Orlais or some other sub-par country? You’re going to make him give up all he’s been working for here. You know he’s going to run after you wherever you’re at, right?” Atronis grew more and more impassioned as he spoke, hands gesturing to emphasize his words.
“No.” It was one word softly spoken, but it stopped Atronis’ ranting immediately. Kestrel looked down at Dalish, finding comfort in his gaze. “No,” he repeated. “I won’t contact Dorian. I’ll remain dead to him. If Dorian knew I was still alive, you’re right, he’d might come running. Then his mother would find out I wasn’t really dead. What’s to stop her from capturing me again and putting us right back where we started? Even if the contract goes back on his head after my death, he’ll still be safer than having me held over him.”
“Why? What’s in this for you?” Atronis asked, frowning.
Kestrel looked at him. “We’ll gain our freedom, but more importantly, I’ll know that Dorian won’t spend his life screaming on the inside.”
Atronis snorted. “But you will. I know you’re fucking in love with him. I don’t get it.”
“I would give up everything for him. Wouldn’t you?”
Ashamed, Atronis looked away. That was answer enough.
“Fine. I’ll see this through. For Dorian,” he grumbled. “But you better make sure your part works, or we’ll all face Mistress Pavus’ wrath and most don’t survive that.” Still frowning, lost in his own thoughts, he made for the door.
“Wait,” Kestrel said, stopping him in his tracks. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” He held out his hand, fighting at the embarrassed flush that threatened his cheeks.
“Oh, Maker,” Atronis muttered. He retrieved the vial from his robe and handed it over, swallowing back the nausea that was written all over his face.
Kestrel snatched the tube and disappeared into the bathroom. Thoughts of the night Dorian proposed in his own chamber brought Kestrel over the edge soon enough. Container full, he returned the stopper and rinsed his hands, bringing the damp towel with the vial.
“You may want to clean yourself up before walking out the door,” he said as he tossed the washcloth to Atronis. Even though his nose was healed, he still had blood all over his face.
Still pensive, Atronis cleaned up his face without a word, discarding the towel to the floor once finished. A bit of blood had dribbled onto the pale collar of his robe, but it disappeared into the inside, mostly hidden from view.
As Kestrel extended the tube to Atronis, the Tevinter said, “You’re really his best option, you know. It shouldn’t have come down to this, okay? Just know I’ll do my best to see he’s safe.” He accepted the vial and tucked it away without a thought, despite all his previous complaints.
Kestrel realized that was probably the closest he’d ever get as an apology from Atronis, but it would do. “Make him happy,” Kestrel said as Atronis open the door.
He paused for a moment in the doorway, the only acknowledgement to Kestrel’s words he made, before the guard shut the door behind him.
The shadows lengthened in the room, reaching out for him as despair threatened to overwhelm his thoughts. The plan was being put into motion. There was no turning back now. He’d never see Dorian again, never feel his touch, never hear his wonderful, confident laugh or his private chuckle shared only between them. His world was dissolving all around him into taloned shadows.
“Kestrel?”
That soft, concerned voice brightened his surroundings enough to send the shadows fleeing to the darkest corners of the room. He looked down to find Dalish already had two bundles of herbs in hand and a small parchment unfurled. It held specific instructions on how to complete both the poison and the antidote in Solas’ precise handwriting.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Can you make both potions with what’s been provided?”
Dalish nodded his head. “Yes, I can. But you should know, everyone’s body reacts differently to these plants. There’s no guarantee--”
“Then there’s nothing left to do but move forward,” Kestrel interrupted, tone firm, leaving no room for argument.
Bowing his head, he said softly, “Then I’ll get to work on these.” Dalish bundled everything together again and slipped the package into his shirt, securing it under his belt. “If all goes well, I’ll bring the first bottle by tomorrow with supper.”
“Good night, Dalish.”
Dalish offered a fleeting smile. “Good night, Kestrel.”
The door clicked shut behind him, the heavy lock scraping into place. Without Dalish’s warming presence, the shadows returned in force, twisting into his nightmares as he climbed into bed, too exhausted from the blood draw and emotional turmoil of his plan being in place.
The nightmares were nothing compared to the despair he felt within. He would never see Dorian again. Could never see him again. That thought was worse than all the nightmares that haunted him, but for Dorian, he’d spend the rest of his life screaming on the inside.
This piece is 100% thanks to the lovely anon who sent me the Smut Challenge prompt of “You’re not going out in that outfit.” I hope you enjoy <3 And I’ll get this up on AO3 on Monday for those that prefer to read there.
PLEASE NOTE: This does have some minor spoilers for my main fic, Time Past, but nothing earth shattering. Find me on AO3 @ https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karasu888
The cicadas sung their welcome to the sun at its apex, their drone constant. Unfortunately, the need for a breeze in their bedroom, however subtle, won out over the need to dampen the racket, so the windows remained open.
Sunlight brightened the room, casting large rectangles of light along the warm, wooden floor. Their overly large bed sat against the wall in the middle, the light stretching to touch just the legs of the frame. Dorian favored his late nights and had designed the windows to keep sunlight away from where he slept.
“Won’t those blasted critters ever shut up?” groaned Dorian with a muffled voice, head stuffed under his pillow.
Kestrel shifted to his side to look at him, admiring the exposed dip of his back. He’d already lounged away half the day in bed, wishing to stay by Dorian’s side as long as possible, but there were chores to be done and Tevinter summer day was only going to get hotter.
He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Dorian’s bare shoulder. “I’ll be in the garden, ma vhenan,” he whispered. He knew better than to ask if Dorian wanted the windows closed, despite his compliant. The Tevinter might despise the cold, but sweating from the heat came in as a close second.
Dorian grunted a response, staying buried beneath his pillow.
That was his husband, always a grouch in the morning, even if the morning fell after high noon.
Kestrel climbed out of bed, shedding his large tunic onto his side of the mattress to pad quietly over to his wardrobe. Dorian insisted they each have their own, and Kestrel wasn’t going to argue that point. The man had more clothes than he knew what to do with. In fact, some of Dorian clothes kept miraculously appearing in Kestrel’s wardrobe, no matter how many times he moved them out. He’d given up that battle not even a month after their marriage.
He smiled fondly at the memory, eyeing the array of black, gold, and blue fabrics to the right of his more modest earth-toned clothes. He wouldn’t change anything, even if it gained him some of his wardrobe space back.
Reaching for his prosthetic first, Kestrel attached it to what remained of his left arm and slid on the corresponding wide cuff to the base of his ear. Tapping it three times, the arm flared to life, dimming to a soft glow beneath the Mistral dragon scales that covered its surface. He wiggled his fingers, attuning it to what his mind projected and moved on with his routine like he hadn’t just attached a magical, heavily enchanted, mechanical arm to his body like it was nothing. Guess months of getting used to it had dulled him to the novelty.
He threaded his fingers through his grown hair and pulled it back into a short ponytail, securing it with a tie from the shelf in his wardrobe. His hair had grown long and he let it, enjoying the feel of Dorian’s fingers through it during their more intimate moments. He quietly cleared his throat, pushing that thought aside. He’d never get outside if he continued down that path of memories.
Knowing what he was looking for, Kestrel retrieved a clean but well-worn pair of brown leggings and a green, faded, sweat-stained shirt. Although washed hundreds of times, there was no removing the rings around the collar and the armpits. Perfect for working outside. He didn’t need to look fashionable in his own garden, despite what a certain husband of his might argue.
Now, he just needed to slip past Dorian and—
A voice full of judgement stopped him. “You’re not going out in that outfit.”
Shit. So much for that.
Dorian frowned at him from beneath his pillow, face barely visible under its edge and hidden in shadow despite the bright surroundings.
“Come on, Dorian. It’s just garden work. No one will see me,” Kestrel protested.
Pushing his pillow aside, Dorian sat up in bed. His hair and mustache were in a perfect disarray with the night’s scruff dark along his jaw.
He looked gorgeous.
“Take it off,” Dorian said, voice firm.
Kestrel crossed his arms over his chest, playful defiance welling up within him. “Make me,” he challenged.
Dorian crawled slowly across Kestrel’s side of the bed with a big smirk.
His muscles shifted along his bare back and down his arms, leaving Kestrel’s throat suddenly parched.
“If you insist,” Dorian answered right before he pounced. Launching off the bed, he slung his arms around Kestrel’s waist right as he turned to run, snagging him.
Kestrel struggled to suppress a laugh as he weakly fought against Dorian’s hold.
Pulling him back towards the bed, Dorian used those fine muscles to pick Kestrel up by his hips and toss him onto the mattress. His hands settled on either side of Kestrel’s flushed face before he promised, “I’ll make you beg to take off your clothes.”
Kestrel brazenly lifted his chin, eyes narrowed. “We’ll see.” They both knew he’d likely lose in the end. He usually lost their playful battle of the wills in bed, but the fight was half the fun.
Dorian’s smirk only grew as he held Kestrel’s turquoise gaze and snuck a hand up his baggy shirt, bunching the cloth around his upper chest. His thumb ghosted over Kestrel’s right nipple, gray eyes intense through smudged charcoal-lined lids. Lining up his fingers over Kestrel’s heart, he ran his hand down Kestrel’s torso, manicured nails digging in and leaving four angry, red trails in their wake.
Kestrel cried out and shut his eyes, body arching into Dorian’s hand with the mixture of pain and pleasure.
Unforgiving, Dorian kept his path southward, over Kestrel’s leggings and roughly rubbed his half-hardened cock through the thin fabric.
Opening his eyes, Kestrel found Dorian still watching him, his features softened and lips parted. He knew what Dorian was about to say and beat him to it. “You’re beautiful.”
Dorian blinked with surprise and laughed.
Kestrel had killed to hear that unfettered sound again and had no regrets. There was a pool of blood at his feet, yet every drop of it was worth it to hear that happy laughter. Kestrel reached up, tangling his fingers in Dorian’s hair as he cupped the back of his head, and pulled him in for a kiss.
The playful mood disappeared, replaced by a drowning need for Dorian. Punishing in its passion, Kestrel held nothing back, emptying his soul into their connection.
One tongue met the other, who initiated lost as they melded together, aggressive and probing.
Using his hold, Kestrel bowed his back off the bed to press against Dorian’s bare chest hanging above him, balancing on the elbow of his prosthetic arm.
Dorian groaned into their kiss, hand pawing at Kestrel’s stiffened cock while his knee forced its way between Kestrel’s hanging off the bed.
Kestrel’s legs spread readily.
Dorian was the first to break their kiss, breathing against Kestrel’s lips, “Scoot back.”
Moving as instructed, Kestrel released Dorian and wiggled his way deeper on to the bed, making room for Dorian to climb after him, slotting himself between Kestrel’s spread thighs.
Kestrel threw his head back against the bedspread when Dorian’s hard cock slid against his. The fabric of both their pants frustrating, keeping skin from meeting skin. He bucked his hips against Dorian’s, yearning for more.
“Ready to beg for the clothes to come off?” Dorian teased as he sat back and lifted Kestrel’s legs to expose his ass.
Resting his feet on Dorian’s shoulders, he bit his lip and shook his head, betting his voice would betray him if he tried to answer verbally.
“No…?” Dorian asked, palming Kestrel’s cock. Then his hand slid lower, cupping his balls, thumb rubbing agonizingly slow circles.
Kestrel kept all noises restrained, cheeks flushed with the effort. It was only when Dorian’s thumb delved deeper, gliding between Kestrel’s ass cheeks, and pressed against his hole, that Kestrel gasped.
Dorian’s thumb prodded Kestrel’s entrance and he squirmed, hips rocking against Dorian’s hand. “This is about as far as I can go if you insist on wearing that dreadful outfit, amatus.”
“You have to take off your pants too, you know,” Kestrel muttered like a petulant child, unwilling to give in just yet.
Dorian smirked and untied the drawstring of his pants before he inched them down, hard, purple-headed cock popping into view as it caught on the hem and bounced free. He kicked them the rest of the way off and leaned back, lazily stroking himself.
Kestrel’s eyes followed his hand, up and down, up and down along his length. He wanted Dorian to fill him, to stuff him full. He wanted to hold him close while Dorian fucked him into the bed, whispering soft nothings into his sensitive ear. Then he wanted Dorian to cum deep in him, claiming him. The wedding bands forever bound them, but the sex was what solidified that bond and reassured Kestrel it was real.
“Fuck me, Dorian,” Kestrel pleaded, voice soft and needy.
Dorian’s breath hitched at his request.
Kestrel watched his chest stutter and his hand halt.
“I...I can’t do that with your clothes on. You know what you need to do,” Dorian said, trying to damndest to pretend he didn’t want to tear Kestrel’s clothes off himself.
He might have just found a way to win this battle of wills. “Ma vhenan,” groaned Kestrel, running his hand suggestively over his stomach. “Fuck me.”
“Festis bei umo canavarum. You’ll be the death of me, dear husband,” murmured Dorian, gaze fixated on the path of Kestrel’s hand.
Kestrel tensed his abs under his touch, offering Dorian a show. His fingers brushed over the clawed lines, traveling up and under his shirt to toy with his nipple. “Dorian…” he breathed.
Unable to see Kestrel’s hand anymore, Dorian was freed of the hypnotic movement, yet he looked disappointed. Kestrel still being clothed was bothering him just as much. Finally, he looked back at Kestrel and grumped, “Fine! You win.”
Kestrel laughed with delight. “Ha! I knew I could best you!” With the admission of his victory, he sat up enough to yank his shirt off over his head, glad to be rid of the fabric.
Dorian rolled his eyes, but a smirk rose to his lips. “Don’t think it’ll happen again anytime soon,” he said, yanking Kestrel’s pants down even as he spoke, pausing so Kestrel could lift his hips up enough to pull them over his ass. Once clear, the leggings flew over Dorian’s shoulder, landing on the floor. “Much better.” His hands wasted no time grabbing Kestrel’s waist and running up his sides before angling inward, fingers spread wide to touch as much of Kestrel’s bare skin as possible.
Laughter faded into a quiet moan as Kestrel basked in Dorian’s caress of his bare skin.
One hand continued to tease Kestrel’s nipple while Dorian angled away, towards the bedside table. He retrieved a vial of lube they kept handy for these occasions and worked some fire magic into the fluid, warming it through the glass. Without pause, he ripped the stopper out with his teeth and dribbled some oil along Kestrel’s cock and then his own. He then slid his hand down Kestrel’s chest and grabbed his thigh, hefting his lower half up to expose his ass. Warmed oil flowed from Kestrel’s taint to in between his cheeks, before the vial was discarded to the same pile as Kestrel’s leggings.
Hands free, Dorian scooped up the oil that had trickled past Kestrel’s entrance and pressed one finger inward.
Kestrel’s eyes fluttered closed, surrendering himself to the sensation of being penetrated, only to have them snap back open when Dorian wrapped his other hand around Kestrel’s cock. He worked both in tandem, stroking Kestrel inside and out.
“O-Oh…” Kestrel’s breath caught when a second finger joined the first and pressed against that exact spot that sent him trembling with pleasure. Still, it wasn’t enough. It never was until Dorian was fully sheathed within him. “More,” he groaned, hand searching for any part of Dorian he could reach. He had to settle for his knee, nails digging in as he pleaded again. “I need more.”
Sometimes their sex was slow and lazy, full of tender kisses, leisurely blow jobs, and teasing rimming. Other times, it was desperate, needy, and aggressive, birthed from the moments they were torn apart, never knowing if they’d see each other again.
When Dorian shoved Kestrel’s thighs against his chest to grant the right angle and pushed his cock halfway in, Kestrel matched his frenzy by grabbing his thighs and guiding him the rest of the way in. Their rash action burned, but Kestrel knew his body would adjust quickly enough to Dorian. He ran his hand down Dorian’s chest, caressing, hoping to curb the inevitable question. It wasn’t enough.
“Are you okay, Kes?” Dorian asked, head bowed and brow furrowed in concern.
“Stop asking if I’m okay, and fuck me,” Kestrel ordered, twisting Dorian’s nipple. He knew how to get Dorian moving again. Although, Dorian usually did the fucking, Kestrel knew he enjoyed being bossed around, giving up some of that control. And Kestrel learned to take control after years of uncertainty when it came to sex.
Dorian groaned, loud and long, pupils blown wide with his desire. He lifted his hips slowly to pull almost all the way out of Kestrel before thrusting back in.
Every thrust dragged the head of Dorian’s cock over that sensitive spot within, making Kestrel’s neglected cock twitch. A pool of precum collected on Kestrel abdomen. Still Dorian insisted on going too slow, the sensation overwhelming and not enough at the same time.
With his feet, Kestrel pushed against Dorian’s chest until he pulled out and sat back on his parted knees, watching and panting. His cock rose stiff and slick between his legs. Without wasting any time, Kestrel climbed on top of him, chest to chest, lowering himself onto Dorian’s waiting length.
Dorian grabbed Kestrel’s ass, helping to lift and guide down, fingers squeezing.
Kestrel latched back onto Dorian’s neck with his teeth, muffling a moan against the trapped flesh. His hands scrambled for something to hold on to as they started a punishing pace in tandem, his prosthetic hand burying into Dorian’s hair and his other grabbing onto Dorian’s shoulder blade, the muscles bunching with each plunge. His persistent scent of sandalwood beat out the growing aromas of sex and sweat, and Kestrel breathed it in.
“Fuck, Kes,” Dorian groaned, face pressed against Kestrel’s, stubble scraping along his contrastingly smooth skin.
“You’re mine and only mine,” Kestrel whispered against Dorian’s throat.
“Yes,” growled Dorian. He dropped his hips slowly to pull almost all the way out of Kestrel before thrusting back in, Kestrel falling to meet him with a resounding slap of flesh against flesh.
Their upper halves parted after that, revealing Dorian’s throat bearing a red, circular mark with deeper indentations and Kestrel’s four welted trails down his chest slick with sweat. Both braced themselves on an arm, torsos forming a “V” and allowing for deeper penetration.
The cicadas continued to sing their mating call into the summer heat, competing with the cries of pleasure coming from their bedroom through the open windows.
Kestrel grabbed his cock and pumped it between them, precum and oil slicking his hand’s path while keeping up the quick pace of his hips.
Dorian came first, suddenly, with a sharp moan and the stuttering of his hips, emptying deep inside Kestrel. Bridging the gap between them, his head fell on Kestrel’s shoulder, one hand remaining on the bed while his other lightly held Kestrel’s waist.
Dorian’s warmth filled Kestrel, but he continued to ride Dorian’s cock while he was still hard, chasing after his own climax.
Fingers breezed up Kestrel’s side, just on the cusp of being ticklish, while soft lips framed by a coarse mustache brushed over his shoulder. The contrast between the sharp smack of flesh with such gentle touches sent his body tumbling over the edge. Crying out in relief and triumph, Kestrel gripped his cock while it erupted between them, strings of opaque cum decorating Dorian’s chest.
The next moments were filled with soft whimpers and pleased groans as they carefully pulled themselves part only to fall onto the bed’s soft surface in each other's arms.
Dorian cradled Kestrel at his side, not wanting to give up their close proximity.
Kestrel nuzzled against sweaty shoulder, arm draped over his waist, not caring about the sticky mess beneath it. “You know,” he said softly, “since I won, I’m going to wear that outfit into the garden once I catch my breath.”
With a throaty laugh, Dorian repeated, “You’re not going out in that outfit.”
LOOK at this! Isn’t it gorgeous?? This is a beautiful tarot card commission from @flavoredmagpie of my Inquisitor Kestrel and his love, Dorian. The colors, the detail (see the peacock and kestrel feathers???), the EMOTION. It’s beautiful and wonderful and I’m so impressed.
I picked the Three of Swords for the heartbreak and abandonment they both feel post-Trespasser in my fic on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423880
The two of them go through so much T_T But it does have a HEA (at least it will once it’s finished - still a WIP)!
ANYway, @flavoredmagpie has been so pleasant to work with! I would definitely recommend commissioning them <3
Look at this beautiful piece of artwork from @singuminklarity! Look at my precious boy, Kes, and the man he loves! They’re perfect. I cannot rave enough about how much a love this piece! The expression they both have from that familiar scene in the game is spot-on. And the peacock feather background is glorious!
@singuminklarity was such a pleasure to work with, and you should definitely commission her if you have a chance. She is a gem, and her work speaks for itself 💖 Thank you so much for this!
Hey there! First of all I want you to know that I consider your Kestrel as the canon inquisitor for me, I really like how you write him in your fics and his character design is amazing! I tried to recreate him the other day and I couldn't manage, he's so beautiful! Srsly, those blue eyes are everything! Second of all, I hope you wouldn't mind answering questions 12, 13, 14, 15, 31, 47, 48 and 50 of the inquisitor ask meme :) give Kestrel kisses and hugs from me ;)
Okay, so...I just rediscovered my inbox, anon. I am so sorry. I don’t even know how old this is and if you’re still out there, anon, but better late then never, I say!
First off, thank you so, so, so much for loving Kestrel and his blue eyes. <3 Dorian loves them too!
Secondly, the questions!
12. Did they drink from the Well of Sorrows? Why or why not?
Yes, Kes did. Being the resolute Dalish he is, he couldn’t image giving something so personal to his people to an outsider like Morrigan. Even though he’s no mage and Dorian was 100% against it, Kes still drank. For better or for worse.
13. What did they think of Solas?
Kes looked up to Solas like a hahren. He valued everything he said and it weighed heavily into his decisions. Despite Solas not being a fan of the Dalish as they are today, Kes still did his best to try to win his favor and his praise. Which means he was absolutely crushed when Solas betrayed him and ruined everything Kes thought he knew about his people. That was a tough day for him.
14. Who is their favourite and most trusted adviser?
This is a hard question because while they all had value to Kes, he was never incredibly close with any of them. He knew he could consult with Cullen on any military prowess questions and Leliana on anything requiring more subtlety. Josephine was always on his case about wearing dreaded shem shoes and ignoring all the overt racism, but still gave him sound advice on politics. He helped them all out on their personal missions too, just never grew very close with any of them.
15. Out of the followers/companions, who are they most comfortable around?
Which leads perfectly into the next question because Kes had ample friends in his companions! Sera, by far, is Kes’ best friend. In Skyhold, she always seemed to know when he needed to smile, pulling out the most tasteless pranks on his worst days. >:) (In no particular order for the rest) Of course, Bull also helped Kes loosen up and relax with a drink at the tavern and always offered to listen when Kes needed someone to vent to. If Kes ever needed a quiet place to retreat, Blackwall made it clear he could join him in the barn. The gentle scraping of wood as Blackwall carved his griffin helped settle Kes’ nerves even in the worst of times. Cassandra he went to when he needed a no-nonsense opinion. Kes also found that she was the best at offering up romantic ideas when he was stumped with Dorian. Cole always knew when Kes was closing up or shutting down and would force him to let out his feelings, even it was a bit uncomfortable for him. Varric, on the other hand, knew when not to push and would spend the hours telling inane stories and distracting Kes when he needed it most. Solas was the reasonable one, someone Kes looked to for advice on the big decisions. He also was a calming, older elven presence that Kes would seek out when overwhelmed by all the humans. Vivienne was the one he connected to the least. He always felt like she saw him for who he truly was - an impostor and someone undeserving of the title Inquisitor. Lastly, there’s Dorian. Dorian was not only the love of his life, he gave Kes life. He breathed it into him with every kiss until their hearts beat as one. (such a sap, I know :P)
31. Did they let Solas kill the mages?
Oh yeah. Kes had no idea what mage crap was happening and followed Solas’ advice. All he saw were more humans trying to enslave a poor spirit and let Solas do what he wanted. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
47. What do they think about the Champion of Kirkwall?
Kes hadn’t heard much of Garrett Hawke before meeting him but he liked his self-deprecating humor and quick wit. Also, the fact that he was in love with an elf (Fenris) earned him major brownie points.
48. What do they think about the Hero of Ferelden?
Before becoming Inquisitor, Kes didn’t know much of the world outside of the Free Marches. I mean, he knew of the HoF but more as a legend than a person and only through snippets passed along through trades with other Clans and some humans. Even as Inquisitor, he’s not convinced he knows any more truth than he did before.
50. Are they proud of what they accomplished?
This is a tough question for Kes. He was thrown into the role of Inquisitor unwillingly and either had to sink or swim. Kes knows he did good as Inquisitor and he knows he helped many people. For that he’s proud. But the politics, the racism, both overt and obscure, and the criticism and skepticism at the end of Trespasser in Halamshiral left a bitter taste in his mouth.
I’m sorry for the long post but I hope this answers your questions about Kes!
Read all previous 35 chapters on AO3 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423880
It could’ve been a minute or two later or it could’ve been a year or two later - all sense of time lost in one another - but they did eventually separate. Before their lips were more than a few inches apart, Dorian whispered “Okay” into the space between them.
Still struggling to come to his senses, Kestrel repeated, “Okay…?”
“Okay, you can stay. How am I expected to say no to such a confession, amatus? I would have been better served by you physically cutting out my heart and tossing it over the balcony.”
The mention of his heart reminded Kestrel his hand was still over it, feeling the steady thrumming beneath his palm. Then Dorian’s words hit him. “I can stay?” he said, sounding doubtful. He hadn’t actually expected his plan to work.
“Yes, my love. Keep me company in this miserable country I call home.”
Overwhelmed, Kestrel couldn’t keep the biggest of grins off his face and his playfulness emerged. He made a show of taking a moment to look around. “On second thought, it is only marginally better than the Fade. I may have been too hasty…”
“No second thoughts. You’re mine now,” he said, hands gripping Kestrel’s waist.
There was something possessive and needy in his tone and it stirred the nearly forgotten sexual tension from earlier. Released from the worry and concern that had dampened his longing, Kestrel was hit full force with yearning, desperate and impatient.
Dorian’s fingers squeezed flesh through silk and he said in a voice husky with desire, “I want to know what thoughts are running behind those beautiful blue eyes of yours.”
“Let me show you,” he murmured in a flirty response, hand taking ahold of the towel around Dorian’s waist. He tugged, pulling the man over to the bed before giving the towel one hard yank. It hadn’t even hit the floor before Kestrel pushed against his chest and said, “Sit.”
With nowhere else to go, backed up against the bed, and honestly no wish to put up a fight, Dorian sat, cock left standing. Apparently, he was quite eager to comply.
Taking a moment to admire, Kestrel raked his eyes down his love’s exposed body, looking but not touching. He’d given up on the thought of having Dorian again long ago, but here he was, ready and oh-so willing. He wanted to savor this.
Dorian’s hands dropped to his thighs, caressing up and under the silky fabric of the robe. “Don’t think I didn’t notice your choice of outfit,” he muttered as he leaned forward. Thumbs stroked over Kestrel hip bones just as Dorian’s teeth latched onto the knot in the sash holding his robe closed. With a jerk, the tie loosened and slipped undone, satin fabric parting.
Dorian groaned with appreciation at Kestrel’s erect cock but he neglected it, instead favoring his revealed stomach. Wet kisses and tender nips teased his skin on a meandering path up his torso.
Fingers entwined in his long hair as Kestrel arched into the attention with a quiet moan. They tightened and tugged when Dorian’s tongue found his nipple, encircling the sensitive flesh. “Ma vhenan,” he breathed, nails digging into his scalp when teeth bit down.
Every touch, every tease, drove Kestrel closer to his limit. It wouldn’t take much more for him to come.
A small voice within struggled to make itself heard. This isn’t how he wanted his first time in years with Dorian to be, finishing so quickly from a few loving bites. “Wait,” he whispered, hand slipping from his hair down to his bare shoulder. When Dorian shifted over to his other nipple, he whimpered, fighting to speak again. “Wait…!” he pleaded, louder this time.
Dorian paused, leaning back enough to meet Kestrel’s gaze with a lazy grin. “Yes, amatus?” he said, sounding undisturbed. He knew exactly the effect he was having on him.
With a disgruntled huff, Kestrel forced his way into Dorian’s lap, straddling his thighs while keeping his hand on his shoulder for balance. Lowering his hips, he teased the tip of Dorian’s cock over his entrance. “I want you,” he said quietly, rubbing himself against Dorian again.
Stunned by the sudden shift in position, Dorian struggled to speak. “Fasta vass, Kes,” he hissed when their bodies connected again, hands tightening their hold around Kestrel’s waist. “At least…At least let me loosen you up. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Kestrel’s lust clouded all sound judgement. “I don’t want to wait, Dorian. I can’t wait.” Feeling steady under the hands that supported him, he lowered his own to Dorian’s cock, curling around its length as his thumb brushed over the head.
Dorian moaned long and loud before his head fell against Kestrel’s chest, protest defeated. “Fine…just oil. I mean…uh, oil. Bedside table.”
Without delay, he reached for the drawer and retrieved a vial of some clear, viscous fluid with a stopper. Kestrel pulled the stopper out with his teeth before dribbling the oil over Dorian’s proudly erect cock. Once there was enough to coat his entire length, he put the plug back it place and discarded the tube somewhere on the bed.
The noise that rose from Dorian as his hand stroked over his slicked length was a combination of growl and whine - purely primal and impatient.
That was it. Kestrel couldn’t wait any longer to feel Dorian in him again. Lining up his cock with his entrance, he lowered his hips. The burning was intense, the oil only doing so much to minimize the stretching of his neglected hole and his erection flagged.
“Are you okay?” Dorian asked, voice soft and full of concern.
Creators, he loved this man so much. He delicately kissed the salty remnants on his cheeks, alternating one then the other downward. Reaching his final destination, he crushed his lips against Dorian’s, trying to convey through one kiss how much he loved him. Some of his feelings must of reached him because Dorian groaned as his tongue quested forward, seeking a partner.
Kestrel gladly accepted the offer.
Reassured that Kestrel was okay, Dorian’s hands helped guide his hips into a short retreat before helping him lower again, deeper this time. They repeated the process several times until Dorian’s cock was fully sheathed in him.
Pleasure overwhelmed pain and Kestrel was forced to part their lips just so he could breathe. He pressed his forehead against Dorian’s, huffing and whimpering with each thrust of his hips, moving at their own pace now. Each jerk of his hips had the added benefit of rubbing his cock along Dorian’s abdomen, leaving a wet trail in its wake.
“You’re beautiful,” whispered Dorian, drawing Kestrel’s eyes to his.
A pleased blush darkened his already flushed features. He leaned in to kiss Dorian, never wanting to be away from him again.
“Kes…” he moaned into his lips.
The thought of making Dorian come so quickly after several years made him desperate. With his slicked hand, he pressed down on his cock, trapping it between Dorian’s firm stomach and his palm. Just a little bit more...
As Kestrel lowered his hips again, Dorian shoved upward, forcing the last inch of his cock deep. That was his undoing. He came hard with a soft groan, string upon string of cum decorating Dorian’s chest. Still cumming, Dorian took over, holding onto his waist as he withdrew and thrust in one more time. With a sharp cry, buried deep inside Kestrel, he came.
“Fu-uck…” was all he could say through pants, struggling to calm his ragged breath and pounding heart.
Kestrel snorted at Dorian’s unusual ineloquence in between his own uneven gasps. “I agree. That was…amazing,” he eventually managed with a tired grin, earning him an equally weary chuckle.
Using his last reserves, Kestrel pulled himself off of Dorian with a subtle wince. He’d be sore tomorrow. The movement drew a groan from both of them but it allowed him to flop down on the bed next to Dorian. Following suit, Dorian collapsed back too, leaving them side by side, fully sated and recovering.
Basking in their intimate afterglow, he said, “I love you, amatus.” His hand sought out Kestrel’s, fingers interlocking once together.
Kestrel turned his head to find Dorian already watching him. “I love you too, ma vhenan,” he responded, hand squeezing his.
“We should get cleaned up,” Dorian offered, sounding like he wasn’t ready to go anywhere.
Kestrel turned on his side and nuzzled his nose against his shoulder, breathing in his soothing sandalwood scent. “There’s no rush. We have all the time in the world now.”
