#dorlen

[lamermiad]

choose your fighter

[reluctantwrites]

The measure of a man

Thank you for the prompt - some long-overdue Pavellan it is! In which Varlen’s insecurity spikes when he realises there are a lot of differences between his knowledge and Dorian’s... (approx 1500 words) <3

Prompt from THIS LIST.

“Am I not enough for you?”

Dorian started, the words arriving like a slap to the face.  His hands, which were already gripping the edges of the tome he was studying, tensed almost painfully, his knuckles bleeding to white as Varlen’s words – his sudden accusation – sunk in.

“You know, part of me doesn’t even want to dignify that with a response.” Turning, Dorian fixed Varlen with a sharp look. “Varlen. Amatus. If you cannot tell by now how deeply I care for you, then I’m not sure there is anything I can say to convince you otherwise.” He sighed tightly, reaching up to rub his eyes. When was the last time he had slept? “May I ask what in the Maker’s name brought this on?”

“Well, what am I supposed to think?” Varlen was standing at the far side of the room. Their argument, because apparently they were arguing, passed back and forth through the empty air between them. “You spend so much time in here, with your books and your scrolls and your tomes. It feels like it’s all you do now! And I can’t even understand half of them, and then the other half are all to do with magic, which again, I don’t understand. Even when I try, I feel like I’m just in the way or slowing you down, a-and… and at some point…” He broke off, his once-sharp gaze sliding away, the anger melting into something impotent and uncertain. Distressed. “Just… answer the question, Dorian.” He swallowed tightly. “Please.”

For a handful of moments after Varlen’s outburst, all Dorian could do was stare at his amatus, dumbfounded and at a loss for how to reply. “Varlen, the research I am doing here is to aid the Inquisition. To help your sister. It is important.”

“I know.” Varlen’s voice was rough. Hoarse. His gaze remained fixed on the side wall, head turned away. “I know it is. I just…” He pulled in a shaky breath. “How can you stand it? Being with someone like me when you’re so…”

Genuinely not sure where Varlen was going with the thought, Dorian cocked his head. “So…?”

“Smart.”

The way Varlen admitted it… it was almost heartbreaking. No, there was no almost about it. He’d practically spoken the word to the floor, as though just saying it aloud confirmed something he had been trying to ignore; trying to hide.

Oh, that simply would not do.

Dorian closed his book with a soft thud, the pages so stiff they creaked like old wood underfoot. “Varlen…” He rose from his chair, bones protesting, muscles aching as he stood. He ignored it. “Amatus, look at me.”

Even Varlen’s body language, his arms wrapped around himself, screamed uncertainty. Discomfort. Shame. But at Dorian’s instruction, he did as asked, those pale blue eyes rising until they made connection across the empty space. Holding his gaze, Dorian began walking towards him, his approach slow and careful. As he moved, he began to speak, his words forming just as slowly and carefully as his steps.

“You know, I have met a lot of people who call themselves smart. Scholars. Politicians. Intellectuals, if you like. There are many such people, in places like Minrathous, who believe that the measure of a person’s worth lies in the depth of their lexicon. The breadth of their understanding of an absurdly narrow field. Their willingness to…” Dorian ground his teeth for a moment, but pressed on, the distance between himself and Varlen closing. “Their willingness to push the boundaries and discover the unknown at the expense of the moral. At the expense of themselves, and everyone around them.”

Varlen was shaking slightly. Dorian could see it now, as he came within a few feet of the elven man. It was something he should have – would have – noticed before, had his vision not been so closely aligned to the proximity of pages. 

“I don’t understand,” Varlen said softly. Even that small confession seemed to further ingrain his belief that he, for some unfathomable reason, was not enough.

But Maker, that was so far from the truth.

Reaching out, Dorian slid a hand past Varlen’s cheek, barely brushing his skin. His fingers nestled softly in his hair, caressing him, curling gently around the back of his neck as Varlen hung his head, seeming for all the world like a man about to break. And for what?

“Varlen… promise me you will never bow your head because of people like that.”

Confusion seemed to replace shame for a moment, and Varlen stiffened beneath Dorian’s touch. “What?”

“Promise me,” Dorian continued firmly, stepping in until they were so close he could feel the warmth of Varlen’s breath mingling with his. “That you will never think yourself inferior to people just because they know more words, or have read more books, or can recite dead languages to a room full of people just like them in everything save name.” He breathed out, tipping his head forward, gently touching Varlen’s forehead with his own. “I certainly don’t, amatus. Not for a single moment.”

There was something in Dorian’s voice; a plea mixed with a promise of his own. A rawness that might be because he was just too tired to cloak his words in bravado, or simply because he needed Varlen to believe what he said was true. And it was true. Every word of it.

Slowly, Varlen’s hand rose to wrap around Dorian’s arm, tentatively pulling him closer as though afraid the move would be met with rejection. It wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I just… I know we’re so different. I keep thinking that… that it would be so much better for you, if you had someone who could actually help you.”

“You do help me.”

“How?”

Dorian’s free hand found Varlen’s; threaded their fingers together. “You keep me sane. Keep me grounded. You show me what it means to be open to people. To ideas. To change.” He gave a soft, endlessly fond laugh. “You show me which plants will leave my stomach in knots for days, and which will cure a headache. You show me every single day that there is more to this life than what I can learn on the pages of a book.” He smiled gently. “And might I say, no scholar, politician, or intellectual has ever been able to show me that.”

Varlen snorted, a faint smile curling his lips, a sheepishness to the expression that sent Dorian’s heart to its knees. “Even sleep-deprived and stir-crazy, you somehow manage to be disgustingly charming.” Dorian chuckled at that, and Varlen released a slow breath, some of the tension in his shoulders flooding out with it. “It’s just hard, to feel like you can’t be something. It’s like to be smart, you have to fit certain criteria. You have to be worldly and knowledgeable and wise and you need to have learned from the right books and listened to the right people speak and… a lot of other things I’ve never done.”

Dorian just shook his head, his hand tightening slightly around Varlen’s. “You know, I have it on remarkably good authority that very few smart people fit that criteria either. But that is beside the point.” He leaned back slightly to look Varlen in the eyes. To really look, and see the man who had won his heart with a smile moments after they met, and kept winning it over and over again every day since. He did it with who he was. With what he did, and continues to do. With the way he treats others and the way he faces the world time and time again, no matter what it throws at him. “So, if you want my opinion, no. You’re not smart, Varlen...” Dorian leaned in and kissed him, their lips lingering even as he felt Varlen’s brow crease in brief confusion at the mixed message. “You’re brilliant. Charming. Bright and with endless wit.”

Varlen’s hands shifted to wrap around Dorian, pulling him closer as he let out a  quiet laugh. “Yeah, like you’re one to talk. I think I got a lot of it from you, you know.”

But Dorian just shook his head, caressing Varlen’s face with his hand. “No. You are you, Varlen. And with every dusty tome in this god-awful place as my witness, there is no one else I have ever learned more from.” He smiled, then kissed him again. Varlen made a quiet sound - something like a sigh - his hands loose and relaxed on Dorian’s back as they held each other, awash with the warmth and relief of being in one another’s embrace.

In the end, it didn’t need to be said, but Dorian said it anyway. He said it because it was the truth. He said it because his heart demanded him to.

He said it for all the times in Varlen’s life when he hadn’t heard it.

“Varlen, you will always be enough.”

[kurogoesinthedas]

Happy Birthday @thereluctantinquisitor! I’m so sorry this came late ;w; but I couldn’t not draw you at least some warm cuddles T^T  I hope you like it ;w; thank you for being such an amazing person ♥ 

[thereluctantinquisitor]

"this was a mistake" dorian/varlen (humor or angst, whichever you want)

“This was a mistake.”

Varlen yelped and whimpered as Dorian hit a snag, the mage murmuring an apology as he attempted to untangle the utter wreck that was Varlen’s hair.

“Mistake is putting it rather lightly.” The concentration in Dorian’s voice was clear, the words slow and meticulous as he worked the comb. “What in the Maker’s name possessed you to swim in… in…” He groped for the right term. “That.”

Admittedly, the water had looked nicer at a distance. In the dark.

Nicer and less… muddy. 

“It was night. I was drunk.” Another snag. Varlen curled his hands into fists on his thighs. “TSssss… figured I could get you in, too.”

“Me?” Dorian laughed outright at that. “Amatus, tempting as you are, I would have to be on fire for you to get me into that brackish pond. Even then…”

Varlen groaned. “Okay. I get it. Dumb move. Loud and clear.”

Chuckling softly, Dorian continued working through his hair. The worst of the mud was out, but the twigs and leaves had managed to knot themselves between the strands. It was quite the exercise in patience. Needless to say, Varlen was grateful Dorian possessed it.

The mage cleared his throat. “You know…”

Dorian trailed off, and Varlen turned as far as he could, trying to catch the man’s expression. “What?”

“We could… take this somewhere more comfortable.”

Oh?

“Like where?”

“I hear the baths here are large enough for two.” Letting go of Varlen’s hair, Dorian moved around and smiled his usual charming smile. “Think of it! Warm water… scented salts… shampoo… soap…”

Varlen allowed himself to be lured in by the suggestion.

For a moment. 

“The mud stinks, doesn’t it?”

“Wretchedly.”

[thereluctantinquisitor]

“That’s a lot of words you just said. Unfortunately, while I understand them all individually, I have no idea what you just said to me.”

“That’s a lot of words you just said. Unfortunately, while I understand them all individually, I have no idea what you just said to me.”

Varlen gave a giddy laugh, his cheeks flushed red as Dorian confiscated his now empty glass of wine. “C’mon, it wasn’t so bad was it?” Reaching out, he snagged Dorian’s sleeve with one finger. “Bartenderrrrrrrrrr…” He held onto the word for so long that he almost forgot what he was going to say. “Don’t cut me off just yet.”

“Amatus, you have had quite enough for one evening.” Shaking his head, his own movements slightly less steady than they usually were, Dorian set their empty glasses on the nearby tray. They made a nice compliment to the empty bottle. “I had no idea Orlais would have such an effect on you.”

Snorting derisively, Varlen leaned his head heavily on his palm. “I don’t wanna talk about Orlaisians,” he drawled, then grinned as Dorian winced at his butchering of the word. “I wanna talk about us.”

“Pleasant as that sounds, I somehow doubt you are up to task.” To prove his point, Dorian picked up the balled-up napkin on the table and tossed it casually at Varlen’s face. It bounced off the elf’s forehead, unfurling and drifting past his doofy smile. “As I suspected,” Dorian determined, then pushed himself to his feet. “Very well, then…”

“Heeey, where’re you going?” Varlen complained, but ceased as Dorian moved around the table and hooked his arms underneath his own. “Ohhhh… you’re doing me…”

“Hardly,” Dorian replied with a roll of his eyes. “I’m putting you to bed, amatus.”

“Your bed.” Varlen waggled his eyebrows and allowed Dorian to haul him into a standing position. “Where you sleep.”

“Our bed,” Dorian corrected tiredly, but there remained an amused smile on his face. “The one, may I remind you, that we have been sharing since we got here.“

“We have?” A hiccup broke past Varlen’s feeble defenses. Frankly, just about anything could, at that moment. “Wow. I’m smoother than I thought.”

“I am loathe to break this to you,” Dorian began as he manoeuvered Varlen onto the bed, “but we have been seeing each other for over a month now.”

Grinning as he bounced down onto the mattress, Varlen caught Dorian’s wrists. “A whole month, huh?” Drawing him closer, Varlen pressed a kiss to what he hoped was Dorian’s mouth, but might have been his moustache. “’m the luckiest guy in Thedas.”

Releasing him and flopping back with a sigh, Varlen heard Dorian snort softly. “The drunkest, perhaps…”

Smiling to himself, Varlen just shook his head.

“Nope. Luckiest.”

[thereluctantinquisitor]

Hey, if you wanna do the micro prompt for the Lovelies, then 15 for Varlen and Dorian or for Varlen and Hanin please.

Dorian’s hands trembled, the words of the letter blurring before his eyes in a way that reminded him of late nights in his study when he’d finally reached his limit. He swallowed tightly, fighting hard to keep the emotion off his face. He’d always been good at doing that.

His hands were the true betrayers.

“Dorian? Are you alright?”

“Yes. I...” Voice too rough for his liking, Dorian cleared his throat. His eyes were still fixed on the letter. “It’s from my father.”

He could practically hear the frown creasing Varlen’s words. “Oh.” Soft footsteps. A warm hand on his shoulder. “Does he want something?”

A pause. A beat. Of his heart or something else inside him, Dorian didn’t know. He couldn’t even tell if it was something repairing or perhaps... breaking.

“He’s dead.”

[thereluctantinquisitor]

For the Fluff sentence prompt, please. Dorian/Varlen. "What are you doing?" *tries to hide something.* "Nothing..."

“What are you doing, amatus?”

“Nothing!” The word came out as more of a shocked squeak - Varlen had thought he was alone - and he cleared his throat quickly. “Uh, nothing. Nothing at all. There is… not a single suspicious thing going on here. Nope.”

Varlen trailed off to the sound of Dorian’s fingers thrumming against his crossed arms. “A rather intense protest for an innocent man,” the mage mused as he entered the room, eyes trained on Varlen. “Enough to make one think… what are you up to?”

As Dorian approached, Varlen suddenly sat on his desk, legs dangling protectively over the drawer on the left hand side. He nudged it fully closed as quietly as he could, attempting to distract Dorian from the movement. “What, a guy can’t drop in to see his vhenan just because he missed him?”

A smile curved Dorian’s lips. “Of course he can… but it’s a mite more effective when said vhenan is actually present, wouldn’t you agree?”

Fenedhis. He was good, but then again, Varlen already knew that. “Well, you’re so hard to pin down, I kind of just have to guess where you’ll be at any given point during the day. Hardly my fault.” He glanced aside as Dorian reached him, trying his best to maintain the facade. “Last time I went to your research area I nearly got fried, remember?”

Dorian winced, clearly recalling the incident quite vividly. “There is a reason we do not allow disturbances in the middle of experimentation, amatus. It is as much for your safety as it is for ours.”

“I know,” Varlen said hurriedly, not intending to guilt Dorian for what had happened, “I’m just saying, that’s why I came here instead…” He trailed off, glancing down at the desk suspiciously. “Unless you’ve stuck wardings and sigils around here, too. In which case, I should probably know about them so I don’t set any off…”

A smooth chuckle rolled up Dorian’s throat and he leaned in, gently taking Varlen by the chin and guiding their lips together. “Amatus, there isn’t a spell in existence that could keep you out, and frankly if there were, I would not cast it.”

Varlen hummed appreciatively as he stole a second kiss from Dorian. “Good,” he murmured after a moment, then drew away, smiling. He paused, eyes on the mage, expression thoughtful, then continued, “Do you want to know why I’m really here?”

Dorian arched a brow. “Only if you wish to tell me.”

As someone who had always been hopeless with keeping a secret, Varlen broke under what could be described as the smallest application of pressure. “I got you something. For the new year.”

“The new year?” Dorian cocked his head. “I didn’t know such a thing was celebrated with gift giving. Had I known…”

“No! I mean, it normally isn’t.” Reaching out, Varlen took Dorian’s hands in his, thumbs rubbing soothingly across his skin. “I just wanted to. I figured you might like it. It’s nothing big or anything, just something I thought of the other day and…”

Varlen trailed off with a sigh and shifted, uncovering the drawer. Dorian glanced from his amatus to the desk until Varlen, red-cheeked, gave a quiet groan. “Please, just… put me out of my misery. I’ve made enough of an ass of myself already.”

Laughing quietly, Dorian did as asked, opening the drawer to find a brown paper bundle tucked rather awkwardly among the papers and quills. “What is this?” he asked, gently coaxing it free of its prison. When Varlen just rolled his eyes and made a ripping gesture, Dorian placed the parcel on the desk and unwrapped it, revealing an assortment of barks, glass vials filled with some kind of tiny crystals, and a strong-smelling cylinder of what appeared to be tea. “Quite the care package,” Dorian noted fondly, glancing at Varlen. “Are you worried about me, amatus?”

Varlen shifted slightly. “You’ve been working harder than ever. I just thought I’d get you some things to help you relax.” He pointed to the bark. “If you burn that, the scent is meant to help with stress. The crystals are for the bath - happy to show you how those work, by the way. And the tea… well, it’s tea. It’s warm and it tastes good.”

Humming appreciatively, Dorian set the gift aside and returned to Varlen, maneuvering himself between the elven man’s legs and embracing him. “Thank you, amatus. That is… all very thoughtful.”

Varlen could hear the sincerity in Dorian’s voice; feel the man’s exhaustion as he leaned against him, the embrace turning into something of a collapse as he rested his head on Varlen’s shoulder. Gently, Varlen pressed a kiss to the side of Dorian’s head.

“How about we try out those bath crystals, hmm? I think you’ve done enough for today, vhenan.”

Softly, faintly, Dorian mumbled his agreement, but didn’t seem inclined to move. Smiling warmly, Varlen just let him rest against his chest for a time, hands running soothingly up and down the mage’s back.

In a minute…