#diodorian

Fragment of the chapter:

The shore of Lake Calenhad looked idyllic for any passing spectator. Emerald grass met mirror-like water surface, dragonflies hovered over long stem of some southern plant. Fennecs and nugs were rushing through the grass while the wolves didn't dare to come out of the forest at that time of day. In the distance one could discern the outline of a castle. If Dorian Pavus, who was standing in the middle of this picture, had attempted to put it into a golden frame, it would probably have looked like one of those dowdy little paintings with which wealthy soporati decorated their houses. Yet he was by no means a painter or a passing spectator: he was bitten by every insect in the area, his nose had gotten used to the scent of decay and his body probably started to smell like a wet dog, just as every other creature in this Maker-forsaken place. How had that Marcher mage even agreed to speak with him if the Tevinter had reeked of whatever had been in that lake? Probably, because they were both covered in demon slime.

Dorian shook his head and decided to stop ruminating on what his life had become. He carefully sat on the riverbank and put his hand in the water. After checking that no other terrestrial creature had ventured into the water, he released a small lightning spell enough to kill several fish in the vicinity. When their corpses surfaced, he took a makeshift scoop net and started drawing them out of the water. He had already put a couple of them on the grass behind him, when someone cleared their throat. The mage turned around with a fire spell on his fingertips.

'Dorian, it's me, Felix,' the figure exclaimed and stepped back. It was, indeed, his friend, who stood beyond the small tent, just behind the magic wards. Under the direct sunlight it was even clearer that he became paler and there were black veins under his skin. He still held himself upright like an altus, but the strain was written upon his face. Dorian plastered a convincing smile on his own face and waved a hand deactivating the wards.

'Salve, amicus,' he came closer, and lit the bonfire with a flick of his wrist. 'Have a seat, the dinner will be ready soon.'

'Salve,' Felix indeed sat on a well-worn blanket and started unpacking his bag. 'I didn't envision you'd make a whole meal on your own, so I brought you some food.' He placed cheese, sauteed vegetables and cold chicken meat on two plates he also brought with him. 'Can't have you starve before we deal with father's plot.'

'Can you imagine, amatus, there's a work on reverberation of the Fade energy in thin-Veiled areas! And the papers by the Dalish researchers give a whole new perspective we didn't even acknowledge ten years ago. And, oh, amatus, you'll like that one: a paper, co-authored by the dreamer, claiming to talk to Solas himself about the Veil. If only I could meet him…'

'If you meet Solas, you'll punch him, even in the Fade,' Dionysios chuckled, leaning on the marble table encrusted with intertwined black snakes, now all but covered with books and journals. The spacious Archon's office was turned into a study with stacks of books and pages with diagrams occupying every available space. Right in front of the former Inquisitor, behind the huge ebony desk, sat Dorian with ink on his fingers and a spark of joy in his eyes. Several months before those eyes had been lacklustre, the room filled with treatises and reports, and Dionysios nearly gave all hope of seeing his husband full of life again.

'How dare you think I'd be so crude!' the mock offence didn't make Dorian's smile less broad. 'We'd have a civilised discussion about the construction of the Veil.'

'Or he'd end up bruised not only from the dragon,' the former Inquisitor came closer to the desk. 'How are the preparations going?'

'Splendidly,' Archon Pavus absentmindedly smeared ink on his chin, but didn't seem to notice it, 'but I'm afraid I'll need to use time magic to read everything I require to be ready. You must understand, it would be a disaster if I couldn't answer some apprentice's question.' Dionysios shook his head and laughed. 'Truly, though, I'm so glad First Enchanter Lavinius came up with this idea. I feel as if I'm young again.'

'I'm happy to hear it, but you're still not old,' Dionysios took his husband's chin in his magical prosthesis and wiped the ink with the handkerchief, 'and you could thank a certain southern mage for nudging that conceited prick into inviting you to deliver a lecture about the Fade.' Dorian frowned, not saying a word. 'Here's my special ability to render you speechless.' The former Inquisitor kissed the slightly parted lips. The kiss was gentle and soft, and they parted smiling.

'Why…' the other man leaned back in his chair, 'why would you do this? It must have been difficult, that scholar is exceptionally petty.'

'That was my last chance, love,' Dionysios sighed. 'It was nearly two years ago when I noticed how you deteriorated under the burdens of ruling the Imperium. You became irritated, indifferent to whatever happened to you. Your eyes were hollow, I felt like I was speaking to a Tranquil.'

'You didn't even tell me?' Dorian's voice was trembling.

'I didn't, because I knew that wouldn't help,' the former Inquisitor made a vague gesture, 'before all that, before I became a Pavus, when I had been a leader of a huge organisation, I had felt the same. You give it everything you have, and it swallows you whole. I had you by my side, though, and you always kept me alive with your playful banter, talks about magic theory and those nights when we didn't need words to communicate.' He smiled, remembering what happened a decade before.

'You could try using my methods before going to these sharks in Minrathous Circle,' Dorian didn't sound certain. 'Or… you did, didn't you?'

Dionysios nodded with a sad smile. 'I tried doing my best in bed, but sex with you was mechanical,' he put up a hand, because his husband wanted to interrupt, 'not your fault, as I said. I bought best wines, took you to theatres, to our estate in Ventus. Maker's breath, I organised that Satinalia, when our children came from the Circles to the mansion, and we stayed there the whole week.'

'It was a wonderful celebration,' Dorian's eyes were full of tears, 'I still have all the enchanted trinkets Mavaar, Lyra and Myron gifted me. It kept warmth in my heart for months.' Dionysios put his hand on the other mage's cheek.

'I saw how happy you were, but behind that happiness there was the same dreariness. You were livelier for some time, but then the indifference and irritation came back, every time I tried to cheer you up.' The former Inquisitor stood straight. 'Several months ago I saw you and Bellara talking about magic theory. I was stunned, because there was a spark in your eyes that I thought I'd never see again. It seemed as if she infected you with her own enthusiasm.'

'I've already told her to try a career at the Circle,' Dorian smiled, 'She's a remarkable scholar with the ability to make even a standing stone interested in magic theory, let alone a mage apprentice.'

'I hope she'll heed your advice,' Dionysios said, 'So that's when I sought out First Enchanter Lavinius. I knew that you love not only magic research itself, but presenting it to others, telling people about everything incredible that you find in magic. A lecture sounded like an ideal variant.'

'And he agreed right away?' There was a smirk on the other man's face.

'Not until I threatened to go to another Circle, which would be glad to house a lecture from the Archon himself,' the former Inquisitor chuckled. 'They miraculously found a time slot in their big amphitheatre for you. Everything else was easy — writing to important Enchanters in the South, explaining everything to Elaine, who invited the magisters and scholars from the Imperium. And organising refreshments for the banquet after the lecture.'

'You shouldn't have bothered yourself for this,' Dorian took his hand and squeezed affectionately, 'sacrificing so much time just for my whims.'

'Happiness isn't a whim,' Dionysios squeezed his husband's hand back. 'And to be happy you need something you love, and I'm always ready to provide it.'

'I love you, Nionios, more than anything in the world,' the grey eyes glistened, the voice was nearly a whisper.

'I'm not the only thing you love,' full lips touched the Archon's nose. 'Magic research makes you shine, and to see that I'm ready to persuade thousands of self-centred morons.'

'Nonsense,' Dorian's voice regained its usual playfulness, 'you're not a "thing", amatus. I just wonder how could I meet such a wonderful person as yourself?'

'You haven't heard? Andraste personally delivered me from the Fade right into your hands,' Dionysios laughed, and it proved to be contagious.

'I'm so happy to see you, my…' Dionysios stopped short, because Dorian was nowhere to be seen. Instead he stood in front of an elderly human woman dressed in intricate robes made from dark silk and imperial vestment cotton, complemented with expensive jewellery. Her face was stern, but had elegant features that looked familiar. And although she was pinning Dionysios with a piercing gaze, her big eyes with stormy grey irises were reminiscent of his lover's.

'My apologies, Lady Aquinea Thalrassian,' he made a little bow. When she didn't utter a word, Inquisitor stepped closer and kisses her hand, 'it is my pleasure to meet you.' The woman, surrounded by two elven servants, looked Dionysios over appraisingly.

'Do you have a name, stranger?' she finally spoke with barely concealed disdain. If only she knew who she talked to. But the Inquisitor was in the Imperium incognito, and he couldn't blow his cover.

'Magister Dorian calls me Nionios,' he gave a polite smile, 'I'm here on important Inquisition business. And to see the magister himself, of course.' There was no denying his eagerness to see his lover now, especially after what he had said upon entering the room.

'The fact that my son has such friends as you is a disgrace to the family,' her voice became low and threatening, 'if anything about your affiliation with Dorian is known to the public, I'll eliminate you like the insignificant pawn you are.'

'I assure you,' Dionysios gave her a smile he reserved for uptight Orlesian aristocrats, 'I'll never do anything that would harm him or his reputation. It is both in my interests and the Inquisition's.' She didn't look convinced.

Suddenly the door opened with a flash of silken robes. Dorian's eyes, stormy grey and utterly beautiful, were widened in panic, his forehead covered with sweat. Dionysios couldn't help grinning at his lover, whom he finally saw in person after months of talking through the crystal. The magister gave him a warm smile, but then turned to Lady Aquinea with his lips in a tight line.

'Aren't you happy to see your old Nionios?' the Inquisitor broke the heavy silence. Someone had to ease the tension, and he had a habit of solving problems and preventing disasters. Hard habit to break.

'Of course I am!' Dorian chuckled, 'though I'd say you're as good as new.' He embraced Dionysios, then went to Lady Aquinea. 'Salve, mother,' he kissed her on the cheek.

'Salve, magister,' her voice dripped with disgust and anger, 'you decide the future of the Imperium, yet you refuse to marry an alta and, furthermore, dare to bring your bedmate to my home. This one has manners, at least,' she gave Dionysios a quick glance, 'but I don't want to see the two of you together. Conduct your business somewhere else.'

'You forget that this estate now belongs to me,' Dorian spoke with cold fury, 'yet I'm not a cruel man, and right now my servants are preparing the Guest House for me and Nionios to stay. I'll inform you when we'll be on the beach or in the gardens, so that our paths won't cross.'

'If you expect me to be grateful for your generosity, I'll have to disappoint you.' Her bracelets clanked, when she turned towards the window.

Dionysios nodded and bid her farewell, to which Lady Aquinea only nodded in acknowledgement. When he was already exiting the room, he heard Dorian's voice: 'He is not a bedmate, he is my lover, and I want you to know it.' The Inquisitor was so proud of his beloved.

'As you wish,' was the only answer from the lady.

When they closed the door, Dorian opened his mouth to say something, but Dionysios captured it with a kiss. He drank his lover as if he were an oasis in the desert, desperately, clutching at the leather belts with his prosthesis. His hand was in the lush black hair, that grew longer since Dorian's time in the Inquisition. When they parted, his beloved looked at him with adoration. 'Welcome, amatus,' he whispered, 'let's go to our home.'