For the "I love you" ask, 1 or 22 for Lyvius?
Tysm for the ask! I am going to apologize now, because it got angsty, and kind of long-ish. Also not verbatim, but inspired by the prompt 🤗
22. Muffled, from the other side of the door.
(Bonus: Screen redraw)
Lyvius didn’t know what to do anymore. It had been a few days now and his eyes were red and swollen. He had prayed to the Maker he didn’t believe in, and the Creators he was certain didn’t exist. His hands still shook when the anger and grief hit him like the tide crashing on off shore rocks. He almost didn’t care if, right at that moment Southern Thedas was swallowed whole by the blight, and dragged down to the Deeproads.
It felt like it was yesterday that Rhys was crying into his shoulder. Oh how he had wanted to tell his son that he didn’t need to keep going. But he couldn’t. The state of the South might as well have been his fault. And how could he have doubted his son? He truly believed that if anyone could have stopped Solas it was Rhys and his friends.
And now…Rhys was just… gone. Lost in the Fade. Did Dorian even know? All the awakened wild magic in the North had disrupted the sending crystal's energy, so he hadn’t been able to communicate at all with his husband. Lyvius knew it wasn’t fair, but he couldn’t help think that those friends of his—that partner—failed him. The letter written by that crow, now crinkled and stained with tears, was still on the bedside table. There he was at Skyhold, laid on his side, on top of the sheets, staring at it. Like he’d done any better to protect Rhys.
A knock on the door down the stairs startled him from his thoughts. He tried to ignore it at first. Whatever the problem was, he didn't care. The visitor, however, wasn’t deterred by Lyvius’ silence. They knocked calm and consistent every few moments. As much as he should have wanted the distraction he groaned, as he threw on a shirt and dried his eyes on the fabric, before dragging his feet down to the door.
“I thought I had said, do not disturb me unless the sky itself ripped open again!”
The knocking had stopped when Lyvius reached the heavy wooden door. He thought maybe whoever was there had left after hearing Lyvius’ cracked voice. He didn’t want to check to see if that was true, there were only two people in the world he wanted to see right now, so he turned to head back up. The thump of a single fist against the wood made him freeze, and his throat tightened as he heard the voice from the other side.
“Amatus…”
“How—“ Lyvius croaked out, too stunned to move. This had to be it, he’d finally gone mad— or attracted a demon.
“Lyvius, my love please, open the door.”
Even if it was a demon, in that moment Lyvius didn’t need anything more to break him. Tears welled in his eyes at the sight of Dorian’s face. He didn’t need to ask to know why he was here. The man’s deep brown eyes were sunken and solemn. Lyvius didn’t hold his tears in as Dorian’s warmth engulfed him. His hands grasping the fabric of the mage’s robes as if he’d disappear before his eyes if he let go.
“Dorian— Rhys… h-he’s—“
“Shhh… I know.” Dorian cooed as he patted the elf’s long silver hair. “I’m here. If anyone can bring him back to us, it’s those friends of his. We can still hope, amatus.” He said keeping the embrace tight while his husband cried into his shoulder.











