through the glass
Summary: That one time Tarquin met the Inquisitor Lavellan just for Dorian to tease him about his obvious feelings for Ashur, but Tarquin ran away from both.
---
Opening his eyes that morning, Tarquin thought it would've been just another day in his double, yet unremarkable life, as of lately.
In fact, it'd been almost a year since he joined the Shadow Dragons, an underground organization whose primary purpose was to dismantle the current state of injustices and make Tevinter a better place for everyone, and not only for a close élite circle. His contribution had been well-seen among the other members, although at first he’d been eyed warily because of his direct connection to the templars. But his boring job as an archivist had turned out to be an important resource of information for the Shadow Dragons, so he quickly became essential to the group. In all honesty, he would've done anything to make his colleagues’ job more difficult.
However, when he stepped inside their hideout in Dock Town, he couldn't predict what would've happened.
As he was rifling through the pages of a daily newspaper, just to be caught up with the latest events in Minrathous, a foreign voice caught his attention. He lifted his head just to spot Magister Dorian Pavus crossing the threshold in the company of a stranger.
An elf, dalish by the dark green vallaslin that took most of his forehead and cheeks. He wasn't much taller than himself; his hair, as red as tree leaves during Frumentum in Ferelden, was wrapped in a delicate bun at the top of his head, while a tuft had been left free on the left side of his face, that was covered in auburn freckles. His eyes were what stood out the most on his features, due to their deep sky blue color. His nose, currently wrinkled in an amused expression, was small, except for its tip that was curved upward, while its bridge was straight.
He looked at the couple quizzically, then he remembered Ashur mentioning that the magister had a partner, in the South. And that suspicion was easily confirmed as soon as the stranger wrapped his arms around Dorian’s bicep, staring up at him with affection.
“Hello, Dorian.” the templar greeted him once they were close enough to hear him.
The magister blinked like he just realized Tarquin was there, as the elf pulled back from him, blushing a little.
Dorian smirked. “Did Ashur put you here to welcome the guests? What a great choice.” he taunted him, sarcasm coloring his voice.
Before the templar could actually reply for good measure at those words, the elf widened his eyes as he exclaimed “You must be Tarquin!”.
Keep reading on ao3