Here's another DAtober fill! Today's is fallen and features Dorian/Anders, meet cute, and Inky Anders
Anders’ heart is stuck in his throat as he walks through Redcliffe village to the chantry. Justice rolls inside of him, confirming his suspicions; something is wrong here. The rift they closed outside the gates manipulated time and now there’s a magister here, taking charge of the mages? Those two things can’t be a coincidence.
He looks over his shoulder. The Iron Bull, Varric, and Solas are right behind him, ready to follow him in. He still doesn’t understand why they even trust him after everything.
The mark on his hand sparks with energy and Anders’ eyes snap up, finding the room bathed in green. A rift flares with life but that’s not what catches his attention.
There’s a mage to the left of the room, fighting a demon. He’s well dressed, physically fit, and Anders finds his face flushing as he watches the mage’s arms flex as he moves his staff.
Holy fuck.
“Good, you’re finally here!” The mage calls out, grinning over at them. Anders’ heart skips a beat as their eyes meet. His voice is just as beautiful as his well manicured face. “Now help me close this would you?”
With that, the four of them jump into the fray, fighting off the demons in order to give Anders an opening to close it.
A demon pours from the rift, going straight for the hot mage that Anders can’t stop looking over at. His back is turned, his full attention on fighting off a different demon. Anders propels himself forward, using one of the yellow pockets of time magic to make himself impossibly faster. He swings his staff around, knocking the demon away from the other mage with the blunt end of his staff. He twists it around, using the knife at the end to slide the head straight from the demon’s shoulders.
Once he knows the other is safe, he turns towards the rift, lifting his hand and using the mark to close it. It hurts. It hurts every time he does this but Justice is there to take some of the pain, soothing it enough to help him focus.
Anders takes a breath before standing up and dusting himself off. He turns towards the gorgeous mustached man, finding him staring at Anders with equal parts fascination and admiration.
Anders likes being under his scrutiny.
By the Maker, what’s gotten into him?
“Fascinating, how does that work, exactly,” he murmurs, reaching over and touching Anders’ wrist in order to look at the mark more closely. Sparks run up his arm at the simple touch. “You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closes.”
“Who are you?”
“Ah, getting ahead of myself again, I see. Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?”
Anders readjusts their hands in order to shake Dorian’s hand. A mage from Tevinter? What the hell is he getting himself into? And why is he about to throw himself into it head first?
