“What does it look like?” Samael asked, standing on the dock, holding Dorian’s arm, his hair flying in the wind. Twenty days they had spent on the ship, and only now were they reaching Minrathous. Samael wore a cape to hide his sharp ears and white hair, but the strong marine winds soon pushed it away. After spending so much time in their cabin, trying to keep the former Inquisitor’s presence a secret, Dorian thought Samael would enjoy spending some time outside.
“Minrathous?” Dorian paused to find the words. “Some scholars have compared it to the great ancient city of Arlathan, although I know you’ll argue that nothing can be like Arlathan. Let’s see, grand buildings lined with gold, bright fabrics over the streets of the many markets… Even at night, the city still brims with life. Magically suspended lights float above our heads, the music never stops. I think you’ll love it.”
“It sounds different than the forests I’m used to,” Samael said nervously, fidgeting with the edge of his cloak.
“Yes, I’m afraid you’ll have to wear shoes.”
“Why should I wear shoes in a city that’s so amazing and clean? You bugged me enough in the wild, and I can understand that, but in a city? I have to wear shoes?”
Dorian chuckled, “Amatus, I know it’s part of your traditions, but you’ll have to adapt if you’re to stay in the Imperium.”
Samael pouted.
“Pouting? Are you a child?” Dorian exclaimed, laughing brightly.
“I still have my youth.”
“You don’t have to remind me I’m long past my twenties…”
“Now who’s pouting?” Samael teased. Dorian playfully pushed Samael’s head, making him erupt in bubbles of uncontrolled giggling. Dorian smiled fondly at the sight of Samael so happy. After the events of the Exalted Council, the now retired Inquisitor had been barely recognizable. Losing his left arm and his sight of course did nothing to help. What Solas had planned terrified them all. Dorian hoped bringing Samael in Minrathous would brighten his mood. He could already see that Samael was doing much better; just seeing him laugh was a miracle. He slipped an arm around Samael’s waist and rested his head against his.
“Thank you for bringing me,” Samael said, softly.
“Of course, Amatus.”
“I know you had your reservations about it, but—”
“That was before the Exalted Council. Nothing could have predicted what took there. After this, I don’t ever want to be separated from you.”
Samael turned toward Dorian and hid his face on the side of his neck. He felt Dorian’s fingers dig in his tangled hair, his other hand still at his hips. Could he already hear music? Dorian did say that Minrathous was a loud city. The boat’s rocking, the waves crashing against the worn wood, the birds chirping over them, the smell of salt in the air; Samael never though the sea could make him so happy. Or maybe it was the man in his arms, he could not tell.
