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carrietrekkie · 5 years

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Through the grapevine.

Hello together!

This one cames to my mind today, while I was waiting for my shuttle(car) to be fixed. A little one shot about some crew members of the Enterprise during their weekly breakfast.

Something funny for the weekend! I hope you like it and leave me a little fb. Also let me know, if you want to read more about the four in here!

@bold-brave-courageous @allthetrek @reeselivesforeverinmyheart

Meet our four gosippy people:

Yeoman Ensign Connor McAdams Lieutenant Lanissa th`Zhinnat, engineer, Andorian Lieutenant Barian Lanos, science officer, xeno-anthropology, Betazoid. Ensign Samantha Winter, Nurse

The Enterprise mess hall was well attended, as every morning at breakfast time, a wild jumble of the fatigued members of the gamma shift, hectic officers of the alpha shift, anxious to be late, and the rest of the crew with free time or flexible service. At one of the tables in the corner, with the best view across the room, sat a sworn group of officers, their eyes wandering through the room as they enjoyed their weekly ritual that had established more and more over the last mission. "Can you believe this is the last time?" Connor McAdams, Pike's Yeoman leaned back in his chair. "After mentioning it for the third time, yes, we can believe it." He was followed by a long sigh. "And you're acting as if it's the end of the world." "Let him Lanissa." Barian Lanos, the senior of the group, punched the Andorian lightly. "Not everyone is such a sentimental sissie like you." She tapped something in the PADD that just barely fit between the cups and plates. "Or he." "Well, I too, think it's sad." Samantha Winter, the youngest at the table, took her cup. "And you're just so grumpy because you know it's your fault." "Yes, exactly!" Enthusiastic, finally to find someone on his side, Connor got back into the conversation. "The three of us will still be there on the next mission, but you have decided that you want to go back to Andor."

"Connor!" Lanissa went up in her chair. "Oh crap." He pinched his lips. "Sorry, that was really no intention." "You go back to Andor?" "I thought that was a joke."

Stunned, the two new initiates stared at their friend. With an Andorian curse seemingly too special for the Universal Translator, Lanissa sank back in her chair, looking at her friends in turn, before explaining herself. "Yes, I'm going back to Andor. I submitted my resignation to Captain Pike and he approved it. " "Oh yes, that pretty much spoiled his mood." Connor glanced at her. "You leave Starfleet ?! You ... "Sam put down her cup before it was slipping out of her fingers. "You throw up?" "I'm not chucking! I will accept the offer of the Technical University and train engineers and mechanics." "Lanissa." Barian put a hand on her arm. "That cannot really be the solution?" It was a few months ago when an outside mission involving Lanissa went terribly wrong. She had been captured, tortured, and when the rescue team finally found her, she was more dead than alive. It had Dr. Boyd's full skill and countless hours of therapy with Counselor Hanson needed to make her reasonably fit for service. Lanissa's first act was to hand over her departure from Starfleet to Captain Pike. "I cannot do this anymore. Every time there's a bit of wobbling in the engine room, a noise somewhere that I cannot assign right away, or people looking for a away mission, I panic, cannot sleep, and prefer to crawl under my bed. I know, I'll hang you, but it just will not work anymore. " Barain and Samantha stared at her, then she took a swing and slammed Connor against the forearm. "Ouch, hey, what should that?" "You knew that and say nothing!" She glared at him evilly. "We could have stopped her, change her!" "Are you crazy? I'm glad if Pike didn´t find out I was blabbering!" "Oh, such a nonsense! You just didn´t dare! "

"Sam, stop it." Lanissa looked at her. "It would not have worked." She nodded to McAdams. "Connor tried it so many times that I wanted to break his nose because he was so annoying." Now she smiled at her friends. "I'm not gone, I'm just going back to my family, we will see us again. I'm happy with my decision, could you please too. " That had sat and after she had all been silent for a moment, they nodded and decided to enjoy their breakfast. If Lanissa left them on Earth, there would be enough tears to flow.

"Have you seen Spock's new look?" Samantha tipped some milk into her coffee. "Yeah and I think it fits him really good." Lanissa stroked her chin. "Looks daring." "I'm sorry I have to disappoint the ladies, but the beard is off." That brought Connor two sad looks. "Yesterday he came without to the bridge." "Great and I didn´t take a picture." "Well, now you can all thank me." Barain pulled up the PADD and called up the photo folder of the Enterprise Crew, a colorful collection of photos and videos which the crew had collected during their time on board. "And here it is." He grinned at the women. "Ahh, that's a nice picture." Samantha marked it. "That's on the wall in the bar." "He delete it faster than you can upload it." Connor shook his head slightly. "Not even Spock can crack that code, trust me." The Betazoid smiled conspiratorially. "There is a god somewhere." "Did you hear that from T'Pal?" Barain glanced around, making sure that the Vulcan was not around. "No, what?" Connor looked at him while Samantha already smiled widely. "She accidentally opened the wrong valve in botany last week and gotten a huge load of nitrous oxide." He chuckled a little. "That was the weirdest half hour I've ever experienced!" "You're pestering us?!" Lanissa's eyes widened, her antennas jiggling in amusement. "She laughed?" "Like a little kid!" The Betazoid lowered his voice. "And not only that, she was really happy." "The poor mouse has been hiding in our quarters for three days." It was a stroke of fortune for her to share quarters with T'Pal. "Does she know you call her that?" Connor waved to someone shortly before he turned back to the conversation. "Of course, and I'm sure one day her eyebrow she pulls up will slip under her hairline." “What did Louvier say when you told him you were leaving?"

"He was crying." Lanissa placed her arms on the table and rested her head on her hands. "He almost got me to stay." "Oh, the chief is just smooching right?" All eyes suddenly rested on the Betazoid. "If you could hear your thoughts, people." He shook his head. "I mean that in an honest and innocent way. With Louvier, you always know what you have, he is sincere and has his heart on his tongue." "Yes, that's right." Lanissa smiled. "I think I'll miss him a lot." "If one can fix it, then Louvier!" "Ah Sam, I would be careful with that, the new one could almost surpass him." "Whom do you mean?" Barain started stabbing the fruit in his bowl. "He has such a typical earthen name." "Montgomery Scott." Connor raised his hand. "The captain personally requested him." "Well wow, it smells like trouble in paradise." "He's fresh from the Academy until he can reach Louvier, some stars will bless the time." "Oh hey, is that her?" Lanissa interrupted the men and pointed to the door. A brunette woman in a blue uniform had just entered the room. "Whom?" Connor looked unobtrusively over his shoulder, then grinned. "Yes, that´s her." Three days had passed since their rendezvous with the Discovery and the return of Captain Pike to the Enterprise. He had brought someone besides Spock, and since then the rumor mill has seethed. Despite their size and crew, everyone knew everyone on this ship. Rumors spread faster than an infectious disease, and when someone appeared as abrupt as this woman, it quickly became the topic of conversation. "I bet she's sleeping with him." Three pairs of eyes stared at Lanissa. "What? " "How can you be so insensitive!" Samantha waved to Cathrin when she saw her. "Oh please, you probably don´t want to tell me that you did not have that thought yet! I bet even every crew member with a spark of sexual desire in the body had that thought before. " "Oh please not again." Connor nudged Lanissa. "I'm so done with this conversation." "Spoilsport." The Andorian sighed exaggerated dreamy, then squinted conspicuously inconspicuous in Connors direction.

"Why are you looking at me like this?" The Yeoman tried to hide behind his coffee mug. "Because you know everything about Pike!" "I don´t do that! Nothing at all private and certainly not about that topic! " "Gosh, you're a lousy liar." Barian laughed. "And you should not spit in my head!" "Connor, I don´t need to look into your thoughts for that." An unfathomable smile on his face. "What do you know?" Sighing, he put down his cup, then waved them all a little to him and they leaned toward him. "The Federation can be happy that none of us is part of the intelligence service, that looks so suspicious that even a blind Dorian would recognize it." "Sam." Connor looked at her. "All right, but you have to swear to me that you keep that for yourself." He waited until everyone nodded and Lanissa's antennae signaled to him that they had understood. "Last night he sent me to the infirmary. He had to cancel theire date because there was another thing I could not mention, intervening. "

"Ha, I knew it!" Lanissa jumped up. "They sleep together!" "How can you be so unromantic!" Barain shook his head. "Think I'm crazy, but there's more between the two." "Now comes this lethargic Betazoid ramblings." The Andorian rolled her eyes. "How did your society actually manage to reach the warp age? If you've been busy with your feelings all day? " "Just like you, just that we have not hit each other's heads!" "Man, how will I miss that." Connor chuckled a little. "Well, I'd like to hear what Barian has to say." Samantha tried to sound as casual as possible, but she didn´t really succeed, but he did her the favor. "Did you ever see them together? That's so incredibly cute. He's so anxious for her, worried and in love head over heels, I tell you! Both are!" "Don´t you violate one or the other policy?" "Not really, that their feelings are so present, I cannot do anything." "Yes that's right, that's not really hard to tell." "Is she talking about him?" Lanissa turned to the nurse. "With me?" "Ever." "Not really." Samantha thought for a moment. "Once she eradicates his first name when she talked with Dr. Boyd, but that's it. " "How is she?" Connor began to collect the dishes.

"Nice, attentive." She went to help him. "She is great! No comparison to the low-flying hedgehoppers we usually get from the academy. Boyd is quite ravished about her. " "Boyd is thrilled by everyone." Barain stood up too. "Except for the Talosians, even he didn´t like them." “Is there anyone who liked them?" Lanissa, however, remained sitting, but collected the remaining crumbs. "Personally, I find it very nice for him to find someone who means something to him. That he has something different than this ship and his crew. "Connor realized how everyone looked at him and shrugged. "What?" "You're such a softie, you know that?" The Andorian now rose as well, picking up remaining cups and plates and bringing them back to the counter. "Do you like that?" He shrugged his eyebrows, whereupon she, embarrassed, as Samantha and Barain found, laughed. The Betazoid leaned over to the nurse, but she raised her hand and interrupted it before he could say anything. "No." She shook herself slightly. "I don´t even want to imagine that." "The horror." He chuckled stupidly, then put his arm around her. "You still have me."

"Cathrin!" Sam shook off her arm and beamed at her colleague. "Sam, good morning! Hello everybody!" Merry, but also a bit uncertain, she smiled in the round. She was a little pale and a few deep rings under her eyes. "Night Shift?" Sam smiled sympathetically. "Yes, my first." She stubbornly stifled a yawn. "It gets better. It's best to lie down right away and wake up around noon, so it'll be easier. " "Thanks, I'll try it right away." Then she looked at everyone. "It was a pleasure." Then she disappeared again and she was not yet right around the corner, the four put their heads together.

"Connor, which shift has Pike?"

"Alpha." He looked at the clock. "And he should turn up for breakfast right now."

As if they had received an order, the four of them hurried to the door, and thanks to the still unbroken stream of hungry crew members, it was not suspicious that they stopped and looked after Cathrin.

"Guys, that's kind of wrong." Samantha looked around as if she was afraid to get caught.

"Come on, we're just checking a few theories." Barain punched her. "If that makes you nervous, what do you do when you're sent on an external mission?"

"Keep your mouth shut."

"God, finally have a date, that we have this behind us."

"Lanissa!"

"Psst." Connor pointed to the front, if he knew anything, then Captain Pike's morning ritual. "And there he is."

The turbolift in front of Cathrin opend up and spit out the still drowsily commanding officer of the Enterprise. Even from where they stood, they could see the two of them beaming, exchanging a few words with each other, and like Pike, as Cathrin walked past him into the elevator, put a hand behind het back, and her turning around to him looking directly into his eyes. She nudged him with her finger against his nose, he reached for her hand, held it for a moment before Cathrin disappeared backwards in the elevator and their fingers parted.

"Yeah okay, that was really cute." Lanissa found her again stared at by her friends. "What is? You are not satisfied with anything! "

"And that surprises you because?" Barain grinned at them before they all adopt a little attitude as the captain came to them.

"Good morning!" He nodded to them all and they returned the greeting. "Connor, I hope it's just a coincidence that you're here."

"Sorry Sir." The Yeoman grinned crookedly. "You have ten minutes, then a conference call with Admiral Shanoba is already waiting for you."

Pike's answer was a deep breath, then he said goodbye to his crew members and went for breakfast.

"He desperately needs a girlfriend." Samantha looked at him, then at her friends. "But that's beyond our salary and I'm late."

"Wait, I'll come with you, I'll have to pick up some more samples at the infirmary." Barain joined her and Connor also said goodbye to prevent Captain Pike from sneaking away.

Lanissa stayed behind, watching her friends for a moment, sighing softly, then heading for the engine room.

Oh yes, she would miss them all.

Masterlist

#star trek discovery #star trek discovery fan fiction #u.s.s. enterprise #captain chris pike #captain christopher pike #chris pike #pike #captain pike x oc #star trek discovery oc

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nyssatrevelyan · 5 years

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Chapters: 11/? Fandom: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Blackwall/Female Inquisitor, Blackwall/Female Trevelyan Characters: Cole (Dragon Age), Dorian Pavus, Nyssa Trevelyan, Female Trevelyan, Cullen Rutherford, Leliana (Dragon Age), Josephine Montilyet, Morrigan (Dragon Age), Ban Marcus Trevelyan Additional Tags: Angst Series: Part 2 of Tales of the Inquisitor Summary:

Nyssa Trevelyan wakes alone, in the stables.

**New Chapter -- I know it’s been forever.

The Proposal

“Inquisitor, Bann Marcus Trevelyan.” Josephine ushered Nyssa’s father into her office.

Nyssa stood from behind the desk, where she had been seeing to some correspondence as she waited. There had been a small table set with light refreshments, and set for two. Nyssa gestured to the table and asked formally, “Won’t you sit down?”

Ban Trevelyan looked around the office. It was clean and, except for the desk she had just stood from, orderly. The immense library of books behind her were obviously well-used and just as obviously well cared for. It reminded him rather of his own study at the Trevelyan estate in Ostwick.

Keep Reading on A03

He moved to the table and would have pulled out her chair for her; Nyssa simply pulled out her own chair and seated herself. The look she fixed him with showed she had not forgotten her etiquette but instead was acting as the ruler of this fortress, not a lady of the court.

Not that she’d ever gotten the chance to be a lady, really.

“I will… leave you to your conversation.” Josephine looked nervous about leaving the two together. “I will be right in my office, should you require anything.”

------------------------------------

After Josephine had left in a soft susurration of satin and velvet, Nyssa picked up a bottle and asked, “May I offer you some wine?”

“Thank you.” Marcus looked around the room again. “This seems a good, quiet place to work.”

“One of the few here at Skyhold,” Nyssa said politely. “Quite close to the Throne Room, convenient to the kitchens and wine cellar.” She poured the wine into first his glass, then her own. “It’s an Antivan white – I find myself quite fond of it.”

Marcus sighed. The small talk, if anything, was making this all quite a bit more awkward. “I didn’t expect our meeting to be this difficult.”

“Oh? How did you expect it would go?” Nyssa was maddeningly correct in her manners, but there was definitely a cold undercurrent in her words. Her hazel eyes were not angry, but guarded. And for that, Marcus could not blame her.

The last time she had seen him, he had shut her in her room and turned the key in the lock. It next opened when a templar and mage came to remove her to the Circle, and from what he had understood – it had not been pleasant. He had been coward enough not to wait with her, not to explain – not to come out of his study until she was gone. Still, it hurt to see her looking at him as if he were a stranger.

“I had hoped,” he said, stung a little, “that you might be happy to see me.”

“I am glad you seem well enough,” she said carefully.

Marcus took a deep breath, and marshalled his patience. “I understand that you are angry with me –”

“Do you?” She flicked her eyes up to meet his. “I am not angry. Not anymore. What I am is profoundly disappointed in you, and suspicious at the timing of this visit.”

“Disa—”

Nyssa cut him off. “You lived less than thirty minutes from the Ostwick Circle. Other mages’ parents visited – not you. Why? Why did I have to hear what little I did about my own family from other mages?”

He looked away. “It was a mistake,” he murmured. “We should never have cut ties with you. But you don’t understand – we were afraid. If anyone found out….”

“Oh, I understand perfectly.” Nyssa put her goblet down carefully. “I understand that if it got around that the Trevelyans – the pious Trevelyans, with their templars and mothers, brothers, chanters and sisters – had magic in their blood, well, there would go the family reputation. No suitable matches for my brothers, the family honor in shreds. Better to pretend I had never existed – I understand completely.”

Marcus shook his head. “No. You don’t. Your books, your staves, your clothes – we, I made sure you had everything you needed – the best of everything….”

“Except you.” There was no heat to it, simply a statement of fact.

Marcus got up, paced. “I’m going to make it up to you, Nyssa.” He turned and looked at her. “What do you know of the Bryland family?”

Nyssa’s head came up sharply, and she glared. “No.”

“They are a highly favored noble family in Ferelden, and….”

“I said, no.”

Marcus looked exasperated. “Nyssa, as your father, it’s my duty to make a good match for you.”

“Since WHEN?” she flared, slapping her hand on the table and making the cutlery rattle. “It was your duty to have me dragged off to the Circle! It was your duty to cut ties with your only daughter and leave her to be raised by strangers! So, when did it become your duty to have anything whatever to do with me?”

“Be reasonable!” he snapped. “I’m trying to make it up to you, by making a good match….”

“No.” She stood. “You’re not trying to make it up to me. When I was just a MAGE, it was convenient to have me put away. Now that I am the Inquisitor, you think you can broker some deal to make things cushier for you.”

Marcus went red. “The Brylands are expecting an invitation to Skyhold.”

Nyssa gaped at him. “You invited them, before even meeting me?”

Marcus crossed his arms. “Of course. It’s a good match, you’ll see. They are well-positioned in the Ferelden court. You will have a….”

Nyssa crossed her arms, unconsciously mirroriring him. “Uninvite them. I don’t care about their position in the Ferelden court, and I don’t care about how this will affect the Trevelyans. If they come here looking for a betrothal they will be sorely disappointed.”

Marcus took two steps toward her, his face crimson. “You will….”

There was an awkward clearing of throat, and both Nyssa and Marcus turned toward the hallway. Instead of an embarrassed servant, however, there stood Thom Rainier – beard neatly trimmed, well groomed, and wearing his gambeson with an Inquisition tabard over it.

“Forgive me, my lady, but you asked me to remind you that you were to speak to the newly arrived mages once they were shown their quarters,” he said politely.

Nyssa flashed him a puzzled look, and before Marcus could turn to catch it, Thom gave a slight nod of his head toward the door.

“Oh, of course,” Nyssa said, “Thank you.” She tugged the bell pull, and a moment later Josephine appeared, looking momentarily flustered that Thom was present. “Lady Montilyet, please escort Bann Trevelyan to his quarters. I must go meet with the new mages.”

“At once, Inquisitor.” Josephine smiled at Bann Trevelyan, though anyone who knew her would have seen she was bristling with curiosity. “This way, my lord.”

“Nyssa—”

“We’ll speak again soon. Duty calls,” Nyssa said, following Thom through the kitchens.

------------------------------------

As Nyssa followed Thom up to the battlements, she gave him a curious look. “How…”

“Cole popped in on Varric and said something about you getting ‘too bright to see’. Varric sent me to see to it. I don’t think he wanted to pull ice shards out of his chest hair.”

Nyssa snorted. “I was getting annoyed enough that if I’d not kept a tight rein on my temper, the temperature might well have dropped. Seeing to the new mages – that was brilliant. Perfect, considering the topic.”

“Oh.” Earnest blue eyes turned to look at her, curious, but wary. “I, uh, take it discussing family history did not go well.”

“It did not.”

They stopped once they had climbed the stairs, looking out and down into the valley at the army camp below. It was pretty from up here at night – the glow of campfires seeming like fireflies.

“I imagine… he tried to reconcile with you?”

Nyssa turned, scowling. “That’s what he called it. I call it arrogance.” She pointed across the courtyard to the keep. “He is trying to marry me off to some Ferelden nobles!”

“I see.” His gaze slid away, looking down at the army camped below.

Nyssa dropped her arm, looking at Thom.

“My lady,” he sighed.

Nyssa could feel the gulf opening between then, came closer to him in one, two strides, and laid her hand on his arm. “Thom, don’t….”

He wouldn’t look at her. “You shouldn’t dismiss it out of hand. The Inquisition – well, one way or the other, it won’t last forever. If you survive this, you should have…”

“I should have what?” she demanded, reaching up to cup his cheek, even if he steadfastly kept his eyes down. “I should have another gilded cage? I should have an arranged marriage that will benefit him, as it benefitted him to put me in the Circle? I should give up the freedom I have – for what? Velvet and silks, gems, and more people ordering my life for me?”

“You would have all the riches and comforts you’ve always deserved.” He finally looked at her, and she could see the unspoken words in his eyes, everything I can never give you.

“Thom Rainier,” she said softly, “I have had the best of everything, as Bann Trevelyan put it. The best robes, the best books, the best staves, the best ingredients….”

“You could have more.”

“I do have more.” She reached up with her other hand, framing his face. “I have a man who loves me for who I am, not what I have, not what influence I wield. That’s worth more to me than pretty shoes and shiny baubles.” She stood on tiptoe, leaning her forehead against his.

He sighed, letting his arms come around her. “I don’t deserve you,” he said quietly.

“You do. And I deserve you.”

He chuckled. “You definitely don’t deserve me, Nyssa.” He kissed her forehead. "What will you do?"

"Do?" She shrugged. "Nothing. It's his mess, let him clean it up. He's treated me as some unwanted by-blow for twenty years. I don't feel any obligation to him. And even if he were to be foolish enough to bring the Brylands here, I have no problem with the scandal 'no' will cause him." She stepped closer, hugging him tightly. "No priest of Andraste would perform the rite once I said no. Who can he appeal to? There is no Divine. To the King of Ferelden?" She shook her head. "Given that we are allies I don't think King Alistair would attempt to force it. No. Bann Trevelyan can extricate himself from this position he tried to force on me as best he can." Thom sighed. "It will cause ill will between you and your family."

"A family in name only, these twenty years. Anyone who cared about me is gone, blown to shreds at Haven."

She sighed. "My, but won't Dorian love to hear this one."

He expelled a long, slow breath. "Yes, of course. I'm sure Lord Pavus will have a lot to say about your choices."

Nyssa looked up then, frowning slightly. "Thom? You're not jealous of him, are you?"

He wouldn't meet her eyes. "Jealous? Why would I be jealous," he said evenly, but she could hear the bitterness that underlay it. "Man half my age, handsome and he knows it, a noble like you, a mage like you...."

"Who doesn't like me. Not like you seem to think, anyway." She looked slightly amused as she cupped his cheek. "We are distant cousins, and very dear friends. But that's all there is to it. And I need an archivist I trust, and someone I can discuss magic with without being made to feel I am a naughty child for asking." She chuckled. "Trust me, you are not in competition with Dorian for my affections." She touched her nose to his. "Sit with us the next time we're arguing theory if you like. I've not asked you because I feared you'd find it boring but...."

"You have the right of it," he chuckled, and she could tell that he believed her, even if he still doubted his own worth.

She kissed him, then tugged his hand. "Come to the tavern with me," she wheedled. "Bull and the Chargers will be there by now -- and Sera, too. We'll have fun. I could use fun." She poked his chest through the gambeson. "You could use it, too."

He inclined his head to her. "As you wish, my lady."

#dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #nyssatrevelyan #abandoned

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clawsandblood · 3 years

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3: “Who did this to you?”

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Borna was still a bit weak and shaky, but he couldn’t afford missing a shift, so he made himself some extra soup and hoped that he won’t need any medicine. Mondays were always busy, though luckily he had the late night shift, meaning that the worst of the traffic missed him.

It was another cold and damp night, the neon signs of the carwash and gas station reflecting sharply on the concrete. He was dressed in his work uniform, a coarse but functional jumpsuit, hair tied back and stuffed under a beanie. Usually he’d roll his sleeves up, not wanting to wet them, but the bite was still looking fresh and he didn’t want anyone to pay attention to it. It was healing strangely fast, and the buts from the barbed wire were almost gone, though he had a feeling that the bite was going to stay on his skin forever.

A sleek black car drove in, spattered with mud. Borna made a face.

When it came to this sort of cars, they were never good news.

The driver’s window rolled down. A lady poked her head out. Her features were sharp, hair slicked back, and her eyes were cold in a way that had nothing to do with their colour. Borna suppressed a shudder and plastered on a smile.

“Hello, how may I help you?” he asked, words rolling off his tongue automatically.

She fixed him with her steely gaze. “I need my car washed,” she said. “I’d also like the chrome parts polished afterwards, if that’s possible.”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. It will cost extra, though.”

He directed her to drive onto the conveyor belt and started the machines. As the automated machines were running, he grabbed the rags and polish for the chrome.

“Please drive there,” he said, pointing to an empty area to the side. The lady did as he asked and he went to work, trying to scrub as fast as he could. Usually he’d have a co-worker to help, but usually there was only two of them working the graveyard shift, and in its typical fashion the carwash was understaffed, leaving him alone. He cursed the incompetent boss under his breath and hoped that the woman won’t be mad because of how long he took.

After an uncomfortably long time, he finally straightened up, putting the rags and polish out of the way and brought the receipt, along with the credit card terminal. These types either had cash only in hundred dollar bills, or no cash at all, which seemed to correspond directly to legality of their occupation. Not that Borna ever saw anything illegal going on, but there were clues. He noticed them all and firmly decided that if he was ever going to become a drug dealer he’s going to be more careful than that.

“Cash or credit?”

“Cash,” she replied, pulling out a hundred dollar bill.

He suppressed a sigh. “Do you have any smaller bills?” he asked, trying to get his brain to calculate how much he had to give her back.

She shook her head. “I’m afraid not.” She smiled politely, though her eyes remained cold and calculating. She looked him over.

“Who did this to you?” she asked, voice a bit softer. Her manicured finger trailed down his arm to the bite mark.

Borna swallowed a curse. He was too worn out to realize he automatically rolled his sleeves up. “A bar fight going wrong,” he replied, shrugging.

“You shouldn’t be working,” she said. “You don’t look well.”

He shrugged again. “Thank you for your concern, but I can manage.”

She took her purse and rifled through, producing a card. “We could use someone like you at our company,” she said, giving him the card. “Give us a call.”

He pocketed the card, feeling pinned by her gaze like a butterfly in a collection. “Thank you,” he said. He blinked after a moment, remembering he was still in the middle of a transaction and scrambled to get the bills he owed her.

“Keep the change,” she interrupted him.

His brown knitted. “That’s a lot of money,” he blurted out.

“I’m sure you’ll put it to good use,” she replied and rolled the window up, driving off.

He was left there standing and staring at the hundred dollar bill in his hands.

---

Dorian cursed the no smoking rule for what seemed a millionth time. He was sitting behind the cash register, scrolling on his phone. There was little to do - customers were rare and there was only this many times one can rearrange the shelves. Various packets of herbal mixes, “organic” food additives, random crystals and overpriced teapots were all arranged neatly, making the whole store look very put-together. The overwhelming smell of herbs was almost enough to overpower the stench of cigarettes on Dorian.

Doors opened with a jingle and Dorian quickly put his phone down. Then, seeing the figure, he relaxed.

“What do you want, Gary?” he asked.

The newcomer was a burly man, shaved head and big beard. He was dressed in fairly formal clothes, the look being completely ruined by the fact that anything he put on looked too small for his bulging muscles.

“Nice to see you too, Dorian,” Gary replied. “I’ve got a packet to leave for Samara later.”

Dorian nodded and accepted the wrapped package, putting it underneath the counter. “That all?”

“Nothing official,” Gary said after a beat. “But I think Madam Reid should be coming to check up on us soon.”

“Do you think she’s gonna hire anyone new?” Dorian asked.

Gary shrugged. “It’s been a while, but you never know with her.” He looked up and down Dorian’s body, wrinkling his nose. “If she does I hope they won’t be to sensitive to smell.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Same could be said for anyone working with you if you don’t learn to use a deodorant.”

Gary threw his hands up. “I can’t control how much I sweat!” Then he let his hands flop back to his side, sobering up. “In any case, be on the ready for a visit.”

Dorian nodded. “Note taken.”

“See you,” Gary said and then he was leaving the store.

Dorian watched him leave through the shop window, waited for a few minutes and then pulled out the package. It was about the size of a larger book, though not as heavy. He sniffed it carefully. Nothing seemed to catch his attention, so he put the package back down.

---

Steven had his earplugs in already, even though it’s been fairly early. The band playing that particular night had a saxophonist who was extremely fond of screeching notes. And then they called Steven’s music noise.

Another patron appeared at the bar. Another large beer.

Nothing builds resentment towards experimental jazz quite like working in a place playing nothing but that. Steven quietly prayed the saxophonist’s lungs would finally give up.

“One Manhattan, please.”

A woman appeared at the counter, looking way too put together to be in a dive bar that exclusively played experimental jazz for alcohol-addled miserable people who were falsely convinced of their intellectual superiority. Judging from the way she carried herself, she knew that too.

“Of course, ma’am,” he replied, setting to work.

He tried to focus on his work but there was something about her that made him always keep her in the corner of his eye. She seemed to be content to watch the people, not paying him any mind.

“Your drink, ma’am,” he said, placing the glass next to her.

She turned around, looking at him again. “Thank you,” she said politely, taking the glass and trying a sip.

Steven looked around. There didn’t seem to be anyone wanting for a drink yet. Mondays were usually quite calm and while he didn’t get much in tips, he did prefer them to noisy and frantic weekends. He looked at the lady again.

“Waiting for someone?” he asked, making sure that his tone was as conversational as possible. She looked too sharp to tolerate any unwanted flirting.

Her eyes fixated upon him and he immediately regretted speaking up. “Yes,” she said. “I don’t think I’d be here if I didn’t have to.”

He chuckled nervously. Her stare was way too intense for his comfort. “Experimental jazz can be… An acquired taste,” he said awkwardly.

She kept staring at him.

“If you want some earplugs I’ve got extra,” he offered.

Lips twitching into something that was almost a smile, she shook her head. “As much as I’d love to, I have to decline,” she said. “Thank you for offering, though.”

Steven nodded in acknowledgement and watched her turn back around.

---

Borna was staring at the clock. He still had a few hours until the end of the shift, but he didn’t know how was he supposed to stay awake for that long. He already emptied his container with soup and now the night cold was finally seeping through his sweaty clothes. He was probably running a fever.

He did not like that.

There wasn’t much he could do aside from getting a coffee or a cold sandwich from the gas station, but neither really appealed to him. What he really needed was a warm bed, but that was almost three hours away.

He pulled out the business card he was handed earlier. The lady’s presence was… striking. She intimidated and scared him in a way and yet he felt compelled to please her. There was little else one could do under her steely gaze.

Aside from the swoop in his stomach in her presence, Borna didn’t really notice anything that would point to her being involved with any shady business. He got used to seeing all sorts of methods such people avoided detection by law, from extra dark windows to straight-up stolen plates and stolen cars, nothing of the sort seemed to apply to the lady’s vehicle.

He read the business card.

He frowned.

Words “NORTHWEST HOLISTIC NATURAL REMEDIES” were staring right back at him.

She didn’t seem very keen on herbal teas or healing crystals. She looked entirely too sharp for any of that nonsense.

But then again, he wouldn’t have been too surprised if the store chain was just her noticing an extremely profitable business niche and deciding it would be a great method of exploiting people. Whatever was the reason for her throwing herself into that line of work, it couldn’t have been passion for natural and spiritual medicine.

There were a few emails and links listed on the card. He pulled out his phone, typing in the official website link. It took him to a minimalist store website, all greens and “natural” textures and a barely acceptable version of the font that every hipster store used. Absolutely nothing about it corresponded to the image of that woman.

He read the business card again. The name of the CEO was MadamReid. Googling her name produced a few unremarkable photos and articles, confirming her identity.

She did express concern over his wellbeing. He unconsciously trailed his fingers down the trail where her fingers went.

He opened his email account. The carwash job sucked too much for him to turn down an opportunity like that.

---

A man in a suit made his way to the icy lady, greeting her. Steven watched them from the corner of his eye, noting how extremely awkward and clumsy the man acted. He clicked his fingers in an attempt to look authoritative and cool. The attempt was not successful.

“Good evening,” Steven said smoothly. “What would you have?”

“One martini, dry,” the man replied, trying to sound dismissive.

“Anything else?” Steven looked at the lady who mostly just looked bored.

“No, thanks.”

The band, especially the blasted saxophonist, were too noisy for him to hear anything from the pair. He put the martini on the counter. “Your drink, sir,” he said. The man didn’t even look at him, just taking the drink.

Steven resumed to cleaning and sorting out things, making sure that there was enough beer on hand. The band was playing what seemed like a crescendo of their concert and he needed to be prepared for the inevitable flood of people coming for their beers afterwards.

The annoying man clicked his fingers again.

“The bill,” he said. “I’ll pay for both our drinks.”

Steven mumbled his assent and got the bill. “Cash or credit?” he asked automatically. The man whipped out a credit card. Not even taking the receipt, the man left. Steven suppressed a grumble about the lack of tip and took the empty glasses to be cleaned. A finger stopped on his hand as he moved to take the lady’s glass. He looked up.

“Do you need anything?” he asked.

The lady gave him a rolled bill. “It looks like you and your friend could use some money,” she said and left.

“My friend?” Steven repeated weakly. He unrolled the bill. Benjamin Franklin’s face was staring back at him.

---

Sharp ringing of a phone tore Borna from his sleep. He groaned, barely able to open his eyes.

“Who the fuck is calling you at this time,” Steven grumbled from the opposite side of the room.

Borna made a vague sound and finally grabbed the phone, blinking blearily at the caller’s ID. It was a number, local one but unfamiliar.

“Hello?” he answered, failing at sounding awake.

“Is this mister… Bourney Kouzzuh?”

“It’s Borna Kožuh,” he said wearily. “Yes, that’s me.”

“We’ve received your resume. When would you be available for an interview?”

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #who did this to you?#OC #fic #steven #borna #dorian #writing #madam reid

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trulycertain · 7 years

Text

Reprise (9/10)

Sorry to get your hopes up, folks - I decided it made more sense to split the last chapter I uploaded into two, for pacing reasons. The next and final chapter will be out very soon.

ix. the truth is a beautiful thing

They manage to ride for a couple of hours, in the end. Soon it becomes clear they’re both flagging. Gal’s knuckles and his arse and his everything hurt, and Dorian’s sagging in the saddle, looking to the sun all the time. It’s going to set soon.

He draws level with Dorian and says, “Remember the cave where we used to camp, back when we needed the post?”

Dorian brightens. “The one by the pond? I do. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Probably not. Thinking I don’t want to sleep without you. “Probably.”

They change course and nudge the horses, and before long they’re dismounting outside the cave. Gal sorts out the horses and makes sure they’ve got something to eat while Dorian conjures barriers and glyphs behind him, steady and quiet. It almost feels like the old days, when the others would head off to hunt and they’d be left to set up camp -

- Dorian hastily putting aside the spells. Pulling him closer to kiss him. Laughing at his surprise and the way he tried not to get tangled up in capesilk and buckles while he looked for somewhere to put his hands. “I’ve been wanting to do that for hours, amatus. I thought we’d never have a moment to ourselves.”

Fuck.

He blinks, and swallows, his spine prickling as he tries not to look at the man behind him. Things were easier before; it feels different, now it’s only the two of them. They’ve barely been alone since the night Dorian came up to his quarters and -

He turns and heads into the cave, needing more space between them. He drags out a few pieces of jerky and throws together a few pieces of wood that he found outside for a fire, trying not to think about anything. All of it.

He’s squinting at a few pieces of bruised fruit and trying to work out if they’ll taste decent when the fire flares into life, and then Dorian sits next to him. There’s a couple of feet between them, but it’s not enough. (Too much.)

Gal says, “Before I left… We were going to talk about…” Fuck. But now he’s started, might as well carry on. He feels more than sees Dorian tense up, but he tries, “I meant what I said. I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Dorian says quietly, looking at the fire. “When I heard they’d taken you, I thought…” He shakes his head. “Well. It doesn’t matter what I thought. I’m glad we’re here, rather than in some Venatori cage somewhere.”

“Thank you,” Gal says.

“Think nothing of it. You’d have done the same for me.”

Gal looks at his knees, rather than Dorian. “When… That night. Why did you do it?”

“I thought I’d told you.” Dorian sighs, and looks up. His cheekbones are sharp and shadowed, and the firelight makes his eyes shine. “It wasn’t right of me, and I’m sorry. I thought it wouldn’t… I suppose I thought you wouldn’t care about it, not really. I thought perhaps it had been long enough.”

“Still don’t believe you.”

Dorian glares at him. “We all do stupid things when we’re hurt. You’d know.”

Gal’s stomach drops. “What are you saying?”

Dorian raises a brow, but he’s pulling icy calm over him, and he looks both like a magister and like the man Gal saved the world and shared a bed with. The man who pretended not to care about anything and cared about everything. “Do you not remember Halamshiral?”

“I do.” Gal tries to keep his voice level.

“Wasn’t the best way to end things, was it?”

“You left me,” Gal snaps. Fuck. That wasn’t fair. He looks away, then. “Sorry. I didn’t mean - “

“Yes. You did.” Dorian tilts his head and watches him levelly. “But it’s not like you did the same to me.”

“I… Yes,” Gal breathes, eventually, scrubbing his hand across his eyes. “You don’t… I just… I thought I couldn’t do it. Too used to being the one leaving. I really did think I’d… I thought I’d paint a target on your back.”

“Amazingly self-centered, really.”

“Dorian… I thought I was going to lose you either way. A clean break seemed better than dragging it out.”

Dorian’s face twists. “And who said you were going to lose me? Did you really think so little of me? That I’d get a taste of power and a few miles between us and forget you? I told you, but no, you were intent on deciding my future for me. What was best for me. Because that worked so well for my father.”

Gal feels like he’s just been slapped. No, a slap would’ve been better. “Fuck,” he breathes, and then he puts his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” Dorian says, quietly. “That was unworthy of me.”

“No. You’re right. Fuck, you’re right.” He can’t look up, can’t meet Dorian’s eye. “I’m…” He shakes his head.

Gal feels a hand on his shoulder, and then Dorian says, “No, you’re a far better man than he ever was. But you retreated.” Dorian’s voice is sharp. “I remember Haven. I remember what a mess you were. And you were doing it again. You wouldn’t talk to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Gal says. He runs his hands over his face. “Shouldn’t have done it. Any of it. I should have just… I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“I could have handled it far better,” Dorian sighs. “I should have, and I’m... I’m sorry. But saying that doesn’t change anything.” He stretches, and pauses. “Maker, I’d forgotten how heavy full armour can be.” He stands, and starts unbuckling pieces, shoving them aside.

Gal thinks about it and then does the same. Shedding his pieces involves a lot more clattering. He needs to, though; he hasn’t had a proper sleep in days, and getting dragged into the fade doesn’t count. His muscles ache, and his eyes feel heavy. He manages all right until he gets to his right gauntlet, and he winces. He peels the leather away and puts it aside, and sees blood on the sleeve of his undershirt.

He hears Dorian pause, and looks up. Looks some more, forgetting the pain.

“What?” Dorian says, looking amused. He looks at himself, down to his leathers, armour and silk thrown aside.

Gal smiles before he can stop himself. “Familiar,” is all he says.

Dorian looks a little surprised, and his eyes are bright. “Yes, I suppose it is. A sad lack of books here, however.” He swallows. “Now let’s take a look at that arm.” He crouches to look through his pack and fetches a health potion and his canteen before Gal can say anything. “I can barely do more than a scratch on a good day, and I doubt I have enough mana left to light a candle, after those fights, but I’ll do my best.” Then he’s standing in front of Gal and looking expectant.

Gal stares back before rolling his sleeve up. He winces as it unsticks from the wound, already crusting with dried blood. He didn’t even notice it at the time; it’s a glancing thing, probably, but it broke skin and he’s bleeding all over his forearm.

Dorian pours some water onto it and scrubs away blood. He’s gentle – always is – but Gal winces at the sting anyway.

“Right, well, it’s not as bad as I’d feared. The shirt’s a lost cause, but it can last until we get back to Skyhold.” Then he wraps his hand around the wound, closes his eyes, and there’s the glow of magic. “Ah… there we are.”

Gal tries not to watch him too closely, but it’s always been fascinating, watching him cast. He always looks happy. Strong. Like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

Dorian opens his eyes and looks like he’s coming back to himself. They both realise at the same time that they’re a little too close, and Dorian steps back. His hand trails along Gal’s wrist, the kind of brief where he probably didn’t even notice he was doing it. Gal swallows the longing and tries to focus as Dorian says, “Here. There’ll be a few things you’re not telling me about, and I’m no healer. I can barely muddle through.” Dorian sighs, and his voice is quiet when he says, “What have you done to me? I’ve only been back down south two minutes and already I’m at your beck and call. It never stops, does it?”

Gal waits for that tinge of bitterness, but it isn’t there. It’s gentle, amused and… fond, maybe, Gal would say, if he hadn’t fucked things up between them. Like the way it used to be. Gal uncorks the potion with his teeth and drinks. He catches Dorian quickly looking away, and then they’re getting rid of the rest of the armour.

“By the way, the answer to your question...” Dorian doesn’t look at him. “The truth is, I’d missed you too.”

Gal doesn’t think he can speak, so he doesn’t.

They eat a quick meal of the things they can find. They shove some of it on the fire. It’s nothing special, but it’s enough. Afterwards, they both sag slightly, and Dorian’s putting down a bedroll first.

Gal pretends not to watch him, keeping an eye on the fire instead. Within a few minutes, Gal’s laying down bedding at the other end of the cave. By the time he’s finished, Dorian’s already asleep. Gal looks at a face he probably knows better than his own. The kohl’s rubbed away and long gone, and there’s enough stubble that Gal thinks Dorian would probably look decent with a beard, if he wanted to. He’s thought it before, when they used to wake up together. He looks… different. Vulnerable.

Gal looks away, wondering why he threw this away. Fuck, he was stupid. Should’ve used the crystal. Should’ve written. All of it.

He thinks of Dorian running straight into a trap to find him, and doesn’t know if he wants to argue with him or… There were troops. Dorian didn’t have to go. He’s a magister, magisters don’t… There must have been some other reason. Strategy, or… something.

He looks back when something catches his eye. Even with the bedroll, Dorian’s shivering in his sleep; it’s slight but it’s there. Gal exhales. There was a reason he made sure there were extra furs and blankets in Dorian’s old room. Gal grabs his blankets, crosses the cave and wraps them round Dorian, tucking them around him. Then he heads back and lies down, finally unstrapping the metal arm and shifting what his body’s got left, looking at the rock above him. It’s a warm night. He can do without.

The question bothers him the next day. It keeps bothering him after he wakes up and Dorian hands him back the blankets in the morning with a quiet, “Thank you,” no sarcasm in it. Better-rested, long hair falling into his face, in just a shirt and breeches. Gal thinks this must be what he looks like when he wakes up in Minrathous, and stops looking before the thought chokes him. Instead he puts his mind back to the question.

He chews it over the same time as he’s chewing the rabbit Dorian brought back after a few minutes outside the cave and cooked with magefire. Dorian looks at him curiously, but doesn’t ask. Not about that.

Instead, Dorian glances at the stump that used to be Gal’s left forearm and says, “Does it still ache?”

Gal nods, and keeps strapping on the metal arm Dagna made him, checking the buckles and touching his other hand to it. It flares, bright with magic. He wants to think he won’t need it, but… just in case.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dorian flinch at the sudden bright light. Or the memories of before. “It looks like Dagna’s work. Did she have to make it Anchor-green?”

Gal shrugs, and smiles humourlessly. “Continuity.”

“Continuity, he says.” Dorian sighs. “It’s impressive, certainly. I notice you don’t wear it around Skyhold.”

Another shrug. “It’s heavy. And it can… rub. Especially if you wear it in the wrong ways.”

“I assume she’s working on that?”

“She’s trying.”

“I could have a look at some enchantments. Minor healing things, metal spellwork. If you’d like me to.”

Yes. Gal swallows. “You’ll be back home.” It’s not bitter, just… fact.

“I...” Dorian looks out of the cave, and doesn’t meet Gal’s eyes. “Of course. I’d better make sure I’ve got everything.” It feels like a retreat.

The ride feels longer than it should. They make it back to the Hinterlands, and they buy a few pastries and a couple of pies from a seller outside Redcliffe. The seller stares at him, wide-eyed. “You’re the Inquisitor.”

“Retired,” Gal says, and ducks his head.

“Yes, he is the mighty Inquisitor,” Dorian cuts in. “Saviour of the world and probably of your stall. Does that mean we can get a discount?”

Gal just manages to stop the laugh. “Ignore him.”

But the vendor looks hopeful. “But he’s right. You saved my town. Give you a free pie, right?”

“Yes,” Dorian says. “Have you seen all his weary heroism? It’s been a long journey. He needs a pie. Particularly pie he doesn’t have to pay for. It improves the flavour.”

Gal glares at him. “I… I’ll pay for the rest,” he sighs to the seller, who’s looking at him pleadingly.

He reaches into his pocket, but then there’s a robed hand pushing what’s too much money towards the seller, who says, “Thanks. Wait... You’re that V – the Tevinter that was with him, right? When the magister came to Redcliffe? Saved him?” The seller gestures towards Gal.

“Yes. I’m that Vint,” Dorian says, wryly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean nothing by it. You saved us and all. Here, pie?”

“I… why, I don’t mind if I do.”

They end up eating some of what they’ve got sitting on a wall a few feet away, and afterwards, Gal says, “Should’ve let me pay.”

“You’d been through enough without having to haggle for baked goods. Besides, I’ve now reacquired my family’s wealth. I am ‘some well fancy magister who practically pisses gold,’ in Sera’s words.”

Gal winces, and laughs hard enough he nearly chokes. “Tell me she didn’t.”

“In a letter, no less. I have written proof.”

Gal shakes his head, and Dorian grins at him, rogueish and like the old days. Gal reaches out to take his hand – and pulls the motion back before Dorian can see it, and thinks hopelessly, I love you. Fuck, I love you.

He realises that he’s going to have live without this all over again, and it feels like a kick in the chest.

“You all right?”

He startles, and looks at Dorian. “Just wondering: between a magister and a lord, who’s fancier?”

Dorian barks a startled laugh. “Me, obviously. I’m an esteemed member of the Magisterium.”

“But you’re not the Inquisitor.”

“Retired. And that’s just cheating.”

The ride goes easier after that. Gal feels lighter, even if he’s still wondering why they’ve ended up here. Why Dorian came. But if Dorian says because of duty… He can’t think about it.

They make it to the outskirts before rain and tiredness drive them into another cave. He looks at Dorian’s soaked hair and almost misses wringing his own out. No almost, really.

After they’ve ducked in, the horses given what shelter they could manage partly due to a spell, Dorian stops and says, “All right, out with it.”

Gal frowns and pretends he’s confused. “What?”

“You’ve been giving me that look all day. You want to say something. You’re not sure if you should, but you want to. So out with it.”

Gal steels himself. “You could’ve just sent a few troops. Why did you come?” he asks quietly, when he’s brave enough.

Dorian just turns and looks at him as if he’s being stupid. “Why do you think?”

“You’ve seen me in a fight. I’d have got out eventually. You knew I could handle them. You knew I was…”

Dorian frowns, and steps forwards. “Yes, I’ve seen you in a fight. I’ve seen you run at the enemy like you have a deathwish. And I’ve seen you when you’re… when you’re hurt. You take stupid risks. Yes, you could have handled them. But if there was even the slightest chance… Well. I wasn’t going to leave it to chance.”

Gal can only stare, because the anger’s rising in his chest and he didn’t know just how much of it there was until now. “But I remember what you said in the Fade. You knew they were after you.”

Dorian half-sighs. “It didn’t matter - “

“Of course it fucking mattered! If you’d never woken up… if they’d used you as leverage or hurt you - Fuck. You’re more important than me!”

Dorian glares at him, and steps closer. “Why, because I’m ‘Magister Pavus’?”

The anger’s fading, and in its place is fear, because Gal doesn’t think he can lie. He manages roughly, “I should say it’s that. I should say it’s because I’m just a soldier and Tevinter needs you.”

Dorian pauses, looking at him levelly, assessingly. Then he rests his staff against the cave wall and steps forwards. “What do you want to say?”

Gal blinks and looks away. “Think you know.”

“Do I? Then how do you think I’d have felt if you’d died due to some fool’s errand - ”

“That’s not the same.”

“Pray tell,” Dorian snarls, “why is it not the same?”

“Because you don’t love - “

“Yes, I do!”

Gal’s mouth shuts with a click. He can only stare at Dorian, who’s bright-eyed and pained and… not pretending anymore, he realises.

“And I swear, if you’d gone and got yourself killed when I’d only just found you again, amatus, I would have - “ Dorian pauses, and stares at Gal. “You’re holding my hand. Why are you holding my hand?”

“So I can do this,” Gal breathes.

Then he tugs, reeling Dorian in before letting go of his hand to hold his face instead, pulling them together.

Dorian’s frozen when their lips meet, still surprised - then he’s moving, kissing back and pressing himself against Gal like he wants to drink him in, to remember this. It’s desperate, at first, then it softens, slows, and Gal knows: Dorian’s kissing him with that silent wonder, slowing to breathe it in. Gal thinks of a thousand moments stolen behind bookshelves and barely-closed doors; that surprised sweetness, all the pretence gone. Dorian’s hand ends up in Gal’s hair, ignoring the blood, and he rests their foreheads together, exhaling, his arm around Gal’s waist.

Dorian says, “I lied, by the way.”

Gal tenses. “What?”

“The hair. It’s awful, the sight of it terrified me. Grow it back.”

Gal snorts and just says, finally, “I love you.”

Dorian inhales sharply. When Gal looks, his eyes are still closed. “I love you, too.” He swallows. “I kept waiting for it to heal, and it never did.”

“Same.” Gal reaches out to touch Dorian’s face again. “I love you, and I swear, I’ll never do that again. I didn’t know - I thought… Thought it wouldn’t hurt you so much. You’re stronger than me.”

Dorian rests his head on Gal’s shoulder, his nose brushing Gal’s neck. “You know that’s not true.”

“You’re the strongest man I’ve ever met.”

“Nonsense. You exist. But I hadn’t realised how badly it would harm you, leaving you here. I’d thought… Something. I had some way to justify it at the time. But apparently even if you’re here, people are attacking you because of me.” Dorian presses a kiss to Gal’s neck. “I’ve missed you terribly.” He sighs. “Remind me why I left you?”

Gal swallows. “Because you had no choice. I know you’re going back to the Imperium, but I… I want to try. Again. I’ve always wanted to. I knew almost the second I did it I’d made a mistake, I just… I didn’t know how to fix it. What we had – until I fucked it up, it was good, wasn’t it?”

“The best I’ve ever had.” Dorian steps back, and his eyes are pained. “But even if we do… what’s it going to solve? I’m going back to the Imperium. I’m leaving again, and that went so well last time.”

“I’ll keep in contact.” Gal says the truth, then, because he can’t stop himself. “I’ll… I’ll come with you. If you want me to. If you’ll let me.”

Dorian stares at him in surprise. “Even now?”

“Always.” Gal looks at the floor and blinks too fast, because if he doesn’t, he’ll…

Then there are leather-clad arms round him. “Then... stay with me. Please.” Dorian drops a kiss to Gal’s forehead.

“As long as you need me,” Gal says, and feels Dorian smile.

Dorian’s voice is casual, but there’s a shake to it. “Unfortunately, I might need you for a very long time.”

“Sounds good to me.”

They separate long enough to lay out their packs, and they eat in companionable silence. By the time they’ve done that, night’s fallen. Dorian conjures a small magelight, and it illuminates the cave in a soft yellow.

Gal tries not to think too much as he starts on his bedroll, but he feels the air… change, and knows Dorian’s watching him. He looks to his side at quiet footsteps, and then Dorian’s glancing at him questioningly before laying out the other bedroll next to it. “I take it I’m not intruding?” he says.

“It’s cold down here. Got to conserve warmth.” They exchange grins, and they keep doing it while they’re shucking armour. Gal thinks it’s just him, but then he keeps catching Dorian pretending not to look at him. He recognises that quiet, private smile; he remembers it from the first time they kissed.

Gal lies down, and Dorian wills the magelight back out of existence. Gal lies down, and Dorian wills the magelight back out of existence. In the dark, he feels Dorian lie down too, and throws most of the blankets at him. He hears a quiet snort, and then the sound of them being laid out.

“It is important, you know,” Dorian says softly.

“What?” Gal says, smiling into the dark.

“Conservation of warmth.” The answer’s wry. “Can’t have me dying after all this.”

“You’re right.” Gal shifts and wraps himself round the mage, savouring it. “’Night.”

He feels the shift of magic-warm skin, and then Dorian murmurs, “Good night, amatus.”

He falls asleep to the sound of the rain, steady breathing next to him, and the faint aura of magic.

#my fic #reprise #gal trevelyan #shield raised #self-indulgent self-promotory self-reblog #i suppose #aus #post-trespasser

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