#impcrriumm

The youngster watched Dorian with interest, unnoticed as the man went about his business in the library. He'd heard stories about him, some perhaps more credible than others, but each as wild as the last. One thing was certain, that he was a mage, and a talented one to boot.

Kieran was curious.

There was much to learn regarding magic. He had learned a good bit already from his mother, some from Urthemiel who he was bonded to, and now that they were at Skyhold, a whole new world had opened up. Access to talented mages, new forms of magic, some of which he'd never seen or heard of before. The elven apostate had given him the cold shoulder despite his best attempts at polite questions, but this one too seemed almost lonely.

{ Continued from Ask Prompt found HERE. }

@daughterofhighever-blog: ❝ You are much better than you pretend to be. ❞ ------------ @impcrriumm -  "What a mad thing to say," Dorian quipped.

 What did the Warden expect from him? His heartfelt gratitude? And reveal that his perception was not without blemish or distaste? He would sooner flay himself with a rusted bread knife.

 'Your heart is not an accessory, you are not to wear it like pearls.' He could still hear his mother tell him. 'You would not bathe yourself in blood before entering a den of  wolves unless you intended to be devoured.' She would warn him. His parents taught him little he thought applicable. That hardly meant that he'd managed to wipe away the stain of their self interest had left on him. No, it clung to him like red wine on white linens.

 In hindsight they ought to have taken their own advice. Perhaps then he might not have spent so many restless nights listening to them quarrel with such passion. Not that he ever dared to speak it, better to preserve a beautiful face--that was after all among of the few things he had going for him. "I have not been pretending well enough it would appear if you think me the humble sort." he added.

   Elissa sat in one of the tower library’s deep windows, nestled between two bookshelves the stood from floor to ceiling. She was leaned against the cool stone frame while her hands rested on drawn up knees. Lifting her head from where it rested by the glass, she looked at Dorian with a teasingly amused incredulity.

  “You think I’m calling you humble?” she asked with a bright smile and a laugh. Clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, Elissa gave a light tssk and shook her head.  “Far from it, Master Pavus. You’re as proud and pompous as a puffed up peacock on parade...”

  For a moment, she turned to look back out the window. It overlooked the courtyard, and from where she sat, she could just see the figures of her family below. While Bryce swung a wooden sword in playful “combat” with his father, Gareth sat cross-legged on a roughly carved bench, studiously hunched over a book in his lap. Her brow pinched just for an instant as the thought rose up again that she would need to secure her eldest son a new tutor. There were mages a plenty in Skyhold, but Elissa was wary of any that came from the old Circles - and more so of the few who still supported the idea of their return. 

Banishing the thought from her mind, Elissa turned her attention back to Dorian. There were moments when he thought no one was looking when she’d catch little things - small, fractional cracks and shifts in his face and carriage that belied a much deeper well of feeling than she’d seen him allow himself to express.

Getting into a scuffle for Talon was just another Tuesday. Or at least it was, until the whole power and titles were unceremoniously thrust upon him, and then believe it or not, he had actually been making an attempt to curb his temper. The fact there was no shortage of people he could spar with certainly helped when he felt the overwhelming urge to just hit something (or someone).

Today however, the offending Orlesian had not been so lucky to avoid Talon's wrath. One too many smart comments about uncivilized Ferelden Dog Lords, and he had been on the receiving end of a very uncivilized fist. Some habits after all, were just hard to break, and Talon had never once claimed to be civilized.

"I don't remember my first time," Talon said as he bandaged his bloody knuckles for the thousandth time in his life, still seething. The mask had provided some protection from his hand, but clearly not enough. The edge had done a little damage to himself though.

His dad had kicked him around enough, it was hard to remember the first time he'd been hit. Between likely repressed memories and him being so damn young when the abuse started, it was difficult, and not something he really wanted to reminisce on.

"Not the goddamn Herald of Andraste, and certainly not the fuckin' Inquisitor," Talon shot back, unwilling to elaborate further. Of course there was more to it. Idolized and seen as a threat by the world all because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Someone with power he never asked for, and increasingly uncomfortable with the responsibility. A child, forced to grow up far too fast. An absolute disaster of a person who didn't know what they wanted, but certainly not this.

His bedroom was a perfect illustration of how his life was going. A beautiful room, with soft sheets and a nice bed. Bookshelves, rugs, and lovely stained glass windows with an impressive view. It was barely lived in. Instead, the most obvious sign that someone ever stayed there was the pile of blankets and pillows in a closet, a nest he created to sleep in. The room was too big, too much. Just like the titles placed upon him.

[Continued from here with @impcrriumm]

"Don't bullshit me, Dorian... Tell me the truth."

impcrriumm answered:

And he thought he was through answering questions and sating suspicions regarding his motives to make himself known to the Inquisition. It would be easy for anyone to chalk it up to guilt, or horror at what his mentor had become. It was a perfect story to spin that he, Dorian Pavus, should be so riddled with guilt for helping Alexius develop something so dangerous that he should sell himself out to the Inquisition. If only that were true.

It came as no surprise to him that anyone would think he had some intel on the Venatori. If it wasn't because of his relationship with Alexius then it was because he was from Tevinter in the first place.

"What makes you think I have any good reason to lie?" he challenged her. "I don't have a thing to gain in pretending to be ignorant of the Venatori. I wouldn't expect a southerner to understand, but I would expect that someone so eager for answers would have the sense to listen."

Dorian had been aware for the Venatori for quite some time, years even. That did not mean he knew a thing about their inner workings. Most people didn't. They weren't exactly popular in Tevinter, not publicly at least. Had he probably met individuals involved with them? Yes. Was he aware? Most likely not. He didn't even know about Alexius, someone he might consider akin to a father.

"Does my request to show him mercy alarm you?" he asked her, putting on his best stoic face no matter how much he would like the Warden to know the offense he took to her demeanor. "No I don't think he deserves to die, that hardly means I approve of his actions."

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

"Does my request to show him mercy alarm you?" Elissa crossed her arms over her chest and gave clipped, barking huff of laughter. "If you knew anything about who my husband is, and how he came to be a Grey Warden, I doubt you'd ask me of all people that question. As for your reasons..."

She paused for a moment to consider, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully as she studied him. He clearly didn't care for the attention, but that wasn't something the Warden Commander was concerned with in the moment. To be fair, she'd prefer to be interrogating Alexius himself, but Pentaghast and Rutherford had blocked her. Even Leliana had whispered caution in her ear; that her more intimately personal stake in the matter might cloud her judgement.

"Given that I hardly know you - I could posit many more possible reasons for you to be lying than not. No one is here for purely altruistic motives..." With another sharp exhale, she leaned back against a stone corner of his little alcove. "And my being a 'southerner' has piss all to do with it. These... Venatori... have not just threatened my Order, though that would be enough - they tried to take my children to get to me." A pause before her tone and the set of her eyes became softer and lost the better part of their edge.

@impcrriumm​ asked: "you look like you just saw a ghost." (for Fiore)

The library was quiet, rain thundering on the windowpanes and echoing off of the roof as Fiore sat in the alcove with a book perched on her knees and her feet on the table. Dressed in a backless dressing gown and slippers, the robe she’d been wearing on her way up here had been abandoned to another chair. For all intents and purposes, she wasn’t expecting anyone else to be in the library. She certainly hadn't expected to see someone standing there in the window reflection when she looked up; much less WHO she saw.

Eyes widening at the shape--the face of her master, dead in the ground--and her body moved before logic could take over. Book dropping to skid across the floor, she bolted out of her seat, backtracking as fast as she could into the table and knocking over lit candles to tumble and roll onto the floor.

Panting like a cornered fox, her heart hammered in her chest as her mind finally, FINALLY registered that it wasn't some phantom before her but instead one she usually thought of as a friend--Dorian. Fight or flight subsiding, she took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly; then turned to snuff out the candles that had been knocked to the floor before they caught something on fire.