#dadrian

He wondered if Papa found shelter from the storm where he was with the Inquisitor right now. Maybe he was warm in an inn, reading by the window just like before. He went over to the bookshelf in their room, and picked out one of his favorite books, one that Papa had read to him dozens of times in the past, and put it in a bag to keep it safe and dry, and rushed across the ramparts to Cullen’s tower. The Commander started a little when the Amadeus slammed the book down on his desk. ‘Read to me?’ he signed.

Dorian hated storms. He didn’t always feel that way. There was once a time in Tevinter when storms meant long days in the library, lost in his research as thunder clapped outside. That changed one day. Storms no longer meant cozy days in a warm library, but cold that ached the bones and rushing to find shelter. He would glare at clouds as they collected in the sky, dark and angry, as he clutched young Amadeus to his chest, hoping the inn in the next town would accept what little coin he had. Then Vitka came along, afraid of storms, weeping and sobbing along with the rainfall and thunder. He would balance them, one on each knee, and read to them, sometimes in the comfort of an inn, sometimes in a cave kept warm and lit with only his magic, the threat of it flooding them out hanging in the air.

Now he was trapped in a cave much like those nights, so long ago. He wasn’t reading to anyone this time, and he silently thanked the Maker no one insisted on sitting on his lap as he glanced over at Adaar, Bull, and Cole huddled around the fire at the far corner. He wondered what Vitka and Amadeus were doing. Vitka no longer cried during storms, not in front of him at least. He wondered what she did to coup with him not there. He let out a sigh as he saw a group of bandits crest a nearby hill. Maker he hated storms.

Vitka despised storms. She hated the rain, the thunder, the lightning. She used to fear them, not because they themselves scared her, but because of the memories that they brought with them. Her mother rushing her under the carriage as her father distracted bandits. “Don’t scream, no matter what my little heart, don’t move, don’t let them find you,” she said in Qunlat just before the shouting started. Vitka stayed there, silent and terrified as she listened to her parents die. There was blood on her cheek, she felt the stinging distantly from where the rock cut her face as she clambered underneath the carriage, but she was numb to the pain as her father fell on the ground in front of where say lay, and a bandit pissed on his corpse, cursing about ‘bloody ox-men’.

The storm had just started to wash away the blood when Dorian found her. Part of her was terrified. Another bandit, she thought, come to finish the job. She didn’t run, she didn’t scream, she couldn’t do anything. Eventually Dorian coaxed her out, with a soft voice and softer eyes. He picked her up in his arms, buried her face against his chest, but it was too late, she had already seen too much. They took shelter in the carriage and all she could think was that their bodies were still out there, getting wet, they shouldn’t just leave them. Dorian cleaned her face and healed her cut, she still had the scar to remember the day by, and never stopped talking to her, voice gentle and cautious. Amadeus was little more than a baby at the time, just staring silently with wide eyes. She doesn’t remember when she started crying, she just knows she didn’t stop until she passed out in Dorian’s arms.

Cullen loves storms. He used to hate them, but that changed when Dorian came bursting into his life, loud and bright and electrifying like the lightning that was currently flashing outside of his office. He watched dreamily as the gray clouds gathered overhead. They reminded him of Dorian’s eyes. He thinks back to the first thunderstorm they spent together. It was before he confessed his feelings, but he knew there was something between them. Dorian was in his alcove reading to Ami and Vitka. Amadeus listened with a peaceful look to him, sitting stiller than Cullen had ever seen him, his eyes tracing the lines raindrops made down the window. Vitka didn’t seem to be listening at all, a sad look in her eyes as she rested her head on Dorian’s knee. Dorian nodded his acknowledgement to Cullen, but didn’t pause his reading. For a moment Cullen thought about leaving, but instead he just sat down next to Vitka, who shifted her weight away from Dorian to lean into his chest instead. Cullen just closed his eyes and let Dorian’s voice drift over him.

The Artifact by dadrian on DeviantArt

“Sleepless nights. How long has it been? Only a week. What if something happens, if he can’t cry I can’t hear him. What if i can’t protect him? Silent and soft and scared. He needs me.” Cole said his face was hidden under his hat, and he spoke softly. Dorian barely regarded him. That first week was agony, he’ll be the first to admit. He knew so little of child care and was terrified of what could happen if he fell asleep. What if Ami hurt himself, what if he was in some sort of danger? Eventually he started sleeping with Ami on his chest. It had ended up with him waking unpleasantly, all sorts of child related messes on his chest. He lightly places his hand over his heart, remembering that familiar weight from so many years ago, he feels his heartbeat and remembers the light flutter of Amadeus’ own. It brings a small smile to his face.

“It was much easier when he got older, and when I had Vitka around to help.” Was his response to the pretty blonde when she finally coaxed an answer from him. She was going to be very disappointed in the fruitlessness of her flirtations. He remembered teaching both of them sign language. It was beyond difficult, seeing as he barely knew what he was doing himself at the time. He also taught them Tevene along side it. Vitka had a knack for languages, and while Amadeus didn’t speak he could tell the little elf enjoyed learning the language of his motherland, even if he may never return to Tevinter. Knowing the language of their hands made communication so much easier.

That night Dorian had a nightmare that hadn’t graced him in a long time. “Amadeus!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. He ran frantically “Amadeus!” Where was he? How would he find him? No, no this can’t be happening. He never let him out of his sight, where could he be? “Where are you! Please, Ami, fili mi, si placet, unde es tu?!” He fell to his knees. How could he let this happen? What would he do if something happened? What if his son was injured somewhere, lost and afraid and unable to call for help. What if he was dying? What if he was dead? Maker no please.

The hour was late when Dorian returned with the Inquisitor. The sun had set long ago and most of Skyhold slept. He quietly made his way back to his rooms, stopping first to check on Vitka. She wasn’t in her room. He silenced that quiet nagging of worry in the back of his mind, deciding to check his own room for her before he would consider panicking. When he opened the door to his room he smiled at what awaited him there. The room was still lit lightly by the few candles that had not yet burned out on their own, illuminating Cullen as he laid in their bed, book spread on his chest. Vitka was curled up tight to his side, making herself as small as possible in her sleep. Her head was positioned carefully on his bicep so that her horns were safe from puncturing the mattress or poking Cullen, her hair in a dozen tight braids that Cassandra probably helped her with so that it wouldn’t be a struggle to brush in the morning. Amadeus on the other hand was laying as spread out as he could be against Cullen’s other side taking up much of the bed.

Dorian smiled at his little family and quietly dressed down to his sleepwear, pausing only when he heard a slap followed by a snort and a grunt. He glanced over to see Cullen sleepily moving Amadeus’ hand off of his face, from where the young elf carelessly threw it in his sleep. Cullen grumbled a bit but drifted back to sleep as Amadeus rolled away from him slightly. Dorian stifled a small laugh. He walked over and picked up the book off of Cullen’s chest and soothed out the creases before shelving it, and snuffed out the remaining candles, casting a soft mage-light to continue to guide him. He grabs the blanket off of Amadeus’ bed, opting not to even try and wrestle his blanket out from under his sleeping family without waking them.

When he is finally ready to turn in he pauses at his bed, sitting on the edge to just look at his family. He could never have dreamed of having something so wonderful in his life. He spent so long believing he would never find love, that he was broken, sick, or just unworthy. Cullen came along and changed that, showing him how whole, right, and worthy he really was. He never imagined he would ever have children of his own, didn’t think it possible with his preference, yet here he was, with the most beautiful children, who he was endlessly proud of. He brushed Amadeus’ hair out of his face after the elf shuffled around in his sleep again. He then pressed a kiss to his forehead, then leaned over to do the same for Vitka. When he went to do the same for Cullen the man shifted slightly beneath him and stole a kiss on his lips, slowly opening his eyes and quietly welcoming the mage back home.

Dorian smiled down at his lover and slipped under the blanket, carefully rearranging Amadeus’ errant limbs, knowing it was unlikely he would wake the elf, but not wanting to risk doing so, so that he could take up the small space of mattress next to him. As soon as he was laying down Amadeus curled up against him and Cullen wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him as close as he could without smooshing the elf. It wasn’t long before he fell asleep like this The last thing he heard as he drifted to the fade was Cullen’s dreamy ‘goodnight love’.