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Birthrights	By : Rikkila13 Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 1888 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: DR:I content is owned by EA Games and Bioware. No money/profit is made from this work

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Disclaimer: turns out I don’t own any of these characters, or the world, or any of the swearing. I’m okay with that. It’s for fun, not money. Bioware does good work, they can keep it.

Chapter 3
Dorian was nothing if not amused.
The Revered Mother Giselle clearly had her concerns. And Dorian was at a place now where holding his tongue seemed like it would deny him a great deal of amusement. “Now you know, I don’t like to interfere,” the woman was saying. Dorian nodded politely. “But the things people are saying, Master Pavus, they simply will not do. Now I know your father visited. Can you not go back home?”
“So you know of that.” There was a smile in her eyes. “Oh, I see. It was you who passed the letter on to his worship. Bit of a gossip monger for a woman of the chantry, aren’t you?” Dorian drawled pleasantly. Well, mock- pleasantly.
Mother Giselle sighed, exasperated. Good. “The chantry has a long history of discovering secrets,” she replied calmly.
“I assure you, Mother, there is no secret to discover.” That one hurt a little. They’d had a single kiss, after all. And woken up in bed together fully clothed. What type of man did such a thing? In Dorian’s experience? One who wasn’t really interested. Sure, Fitzwilliam had kissed him. But that was precious little. Perhaps he had not found it to his liking. And the man was so busy. They could go days without a quiet moment alone. They could not always go about kissing in public alcoves. Word would fly then.
The blight-forsaken woman was still talking. He’d tuned her out but something filtered through.
“…undue influence over the Inquisitor will not be tolerated.” She huffed.
Dorian held up a hand. “Stop,” he growled suddenly. She’d found them. Just the words he was most afraid to hear. He was not using Fitzwilliam. Fitzwilliam was not a thing to be used. So many people were using him already, it made him sick to think of it. The rage bubbled inside him. The temptation to unleash the magic racing through his veins. It would take a single moment of weakness.
But he heard footsteps just then and the Revered Mother startled, “Oh!”
Fitzwilliam walked up beside him. The rage cooled and Dorian crossed his arms. This will be good.
“What’s going on here,” Fitzwilliam asked looking between the mage and the Mother.
“It seems,” Dorian began before the woman could speak, “the revered Mother is concerned about my ‘undue influence’ over you.” The words stung his lips like a particularly vile curse.
“It is just concern, your worship,” she said calmly. What was it about church women and their ability to feign calm? “You must know how this looks.”
“You might need to spell it out, my dear,” Dorian replied. Fitzwilliam would want the blunt edge of it. Or as much of that as you could get out of a member of the chantry.
“This man is of Tevinter. His presence at your side. The rumors alone…” Giselle trailed off, not wanting to be too direct, naturally. Better to let Fitzwilliam fill in the rumors himself, yes?
But Dorian smiled. If he knew one thing about the Inquisitor, and he liked to think he knew at least one, it was that he would ask and prod and poke until he had the full of it. Fitzwilliam did not disappoint. “And what’s wrong with him being from Tevinter?” He asked. “Specifically.” There was an edge to his voice Dorian doubted the Mother could hear. But Dorian caught it. Bigotry in any form was not an attitude Fitzwilliam tolerated. Just look at the team he had assembled!
The Mother back peddled. Perhaps she had caught the tone. Dorian was not giving the woman enough credit. “I am fully aware,” she began diplomatically, “that not everyone from the Imperium is the same.”
Maker, if she thought that was worth anything. “How kind of you to notice,” Dorian drawled. “Yet, you still bow to the opinion of the masses.” Dorian was familiar with prejudice. He didn’t have it as badly as Qunari with their grey skin and horns. Or Elves. Most of the time he could pass, just a human who had spent some time in the sun. But it was still painful.
“The opinion of the masses,” Giselle countered, “is based on centuries of evidence. What would you have me tell them?” She looked… smug. Maker, woman. Dorian knew what Fitzwilliam would have her tell them. It was a simple truth, one Iron Bull, of all people, had articulated well one night in the tavern: treat a person like a person.
“The truth?” Dorian suggested instead, too annoyed to have a philosophical conversation.
“”The truth is I do not know you,” She replied to the mage. “And neither do they. Thus, these rumors will continue.” Andraste help him why was Fitz just standing there watching?
“Oh? I’d like to hear what these rumors are, exactly,” Fitzwilliam said at last. His voice was an odd mix, to Dorian’s ears. Part amusement, part severity.
That took the Mother by surprise. Good. “I…” she fumbled. “I could not repeat them, your worship.” She looked away.
“Repeat them?” He asked with the cunning wit Dorian adored. “So you’ve shared them before?”
“I…” the Mother began. But then she stopped, defeated. “I see. I meant no disrespect Inquisitor.”
Did she see, Dorian wondered. Really see?
“I only meant to ask after this man’s… intentions.” She finished. Ah. “If you feel he is without ulterior motive, then I humbly beg forgiveness of you both.”
Dorian crossed and uncrossed his arms. Clever little Hat, she was. She didn’t mean her apology to Dorian, of course, but including him with one to the Inquisitor? Well, that was easily done and would save her some face. Dorian rolled his eyes, when the Mother bowed and walked away… the look she gave him before she turned. Maker help me, he thought. I do believe that woman has my number.
“Well, that’s something,” Dorian sighed, looking after the woman.
Fitzwilliam turned to him. “She didn’t get to you, did she?”
Yes. He thought. But he said, “No…” confidently. “It takes more to get to me than thinly veiled accusations.”
“You don’t think she’ll do anything?” Fitzwilliam asked.
Dorian scoffed. “Do what? Yours is the good opinion I care about, not hers.” He paused for a moment, unsure. “It does make me wonder – is my influence over you… undue?”
The Inquisitor shook his head and smiled. “No, not undue at all.”
Dorian smiled. “Overdue, then?” The Herald shook his head, still smiling that little smile. Dorian laughed. “I know, I tease you too much.” He smiled dangerously and said, “I don’t know if you’re aware, but the assumption in some corners is that you and I are… intimate.” Dorian smirked and waited to gauge the Inquisitor’s reaction.
“That’s not the worst assumption they could have, is it? Fitzwilliam said calmly.
Dorian was surprised. He felt his eyebrows go up. “I don’t know,” he began to banter out of reflex. “Is it?”
“Do you always answer a question with a question?” Maker above. There was a reason he was the Inquisitor, after all.
“Would you like me to answer in some other fashion?” Dorian smirked again.
Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes and chuckled. “If you’re capable.”
It was a joke, Dorian knew, but he felt the challenge of it. His conversation with the Mother had him wounded and wondering. Uncertain as to his place in Fitzwilliam’s life. And there was only one way he could think of to easy the roiling emotions.
Dorian took two confident strides forward, grabbed Fitzwilliam by his arm, pulled him in, and kissed him deeply. It started so strong but toward the end it dissolved into softness. When they parted Fitzwilliam kept his eyes closed and sighed happily. “’If you’re capable’,” Dorian scoffed affectionately. “The nonsense you speak.”
Fitzwilliam stayed close, smiling softly, glancing around the empty alcove. “You realize,” he joked, “this makes the rumors somewhat true.” A thumb stroked Dorian’s hip. When had the man put his hand there? Maker, that feels nice.
“Evidently,” Dorian replied. He heard voices. They would not be alone much longer. Regretfully, the mage stepped away from Fitzwilliam, his touch lingering on the man’s arm. “We might have to explore the full truth of them later,” he said and turned away. “In private,” he added.
Well, that answers that, he thought. He smiled and hummed all the way to the tavern.
VVV
Fitzwilliam regretted everything.
“Why did I agree to this?” He asked Dorian as he walked beside him.
Dorian shrugged, and smirked. “I believe your reasoning had to do with taking Cole out to test the waters.”
Fitzwilliam huffed. That was true. He’d accepted the “go find us resources because, by Andraste, you aren’t busy enough” request, at least in part, because it seemed a safe way to take Cole on a mission. They were unlikely to run into too many dangers but with luck he would see what Cole could do. And if it turned out it was very little? Well, then he and Dorian would be able to pull them out. “I need to learn to delegate,” he mumbled. Dorian laughed.
“Can you change your form, Cole?” Dorian asked. “If you wanted to look like something else?”
The boy looked up from his close inspection of the ground. “But I don’t want to look like something else,” he replied, clearly confused.
“There are Magisters who would be ecstatic if they could conjure up a demon who could change how it looked,” He mused aloud.
“They would use it to hurt people,” Cole said, disdainfully.
“You’re right about that,” Dorian acquiesced. “They would.”
Fitzwilliam watched the exchange with something like glee. He’d known Dorian was curious about the spirit. And he knew Cole needed people he could talk to. People like Dorian. People who did not see him as an abomination.
“Do you need to eat? Or sleep?” Dorian asked.
“I thought I had to, but I don’t. The old songs can pull me,” Cole said by way of explanation.
“Well,” Dorian said, encouragingly. “That’s something! I don’t know what, but it’s something. What about when you’re injured? Why do you bleed? Is it because you think you have to?”
“Is that why you bleed?” Cole asked innocently.
“I, well, uh… yes,” Dorian sputtered. “You have me there,” he added with a chuckle.
They walked in silence a few minutes more. Dorian stroking his chin, Cole looking about, taking it all in. Fitzwilliam watching, while trying to look like he wasn’t watching.
Cole spoke again. “You ask a lot of questions, Dorian.”
“I’m curious about you,” the mage answered with a smile. “I had no idea something like you was possible.”
“I’m curious about you too!” Cole exclaimed excitedly.
“You can ask me questions if you like,” Dorian replied helpfully. Fitzwilliam’s heart was melting. Is this what the mage would be like with a child? Andraste’s ass, you fool. Why would you think a thing like that? He felt the blush creep up his cheeks. Thank the Maker, neither of his companions were paying attention. “I’m not sure why you’d want to but…”
“Oh good!” Cole smiled. “Thank you!”
Dorian turned and looked at the Inquisitor. “I’m… going to regret this, aren’t I?” He asked with a nervous smile. Fitzwilliam shrugged and tried to hide the red of his face. Perhaps the mage would shrug it off as the color of exertion?
Despite Cole’s enthusiasm he did not ask any questions. They arrived at the small town to find it in a skirmish with some bandits. They were easily scattered, the Inquisition flag hoisted, and the band on their way back to Skyhold before Cole said a word. When he did Fitzwilliam saw Dorian jump.
“Dorian, you said I could ask you questions.”
“It’s true, I did say that,” he sighed warily.
“Why did you leave your home, Dorian?” Cole asked. Fitzwilliam was surprised. It was a fairly mundane question.
“You know why,” Dorian replied casually. “I had to stop the Venatori.”
“It was more,” Cole said slowly, as if looking for the answer in Dorian’s head. “There was the man with your eyes. Angry. Walking on cobblestones. ‘I’m on my own now…’”
“Digging around in my head again, are you?” Dorian said with a small smile.
“You said I could ask questions!” The spirit-boy protested.
Dorian sighed. “Ugh. It’s rather like inviting someone into your house and they walk off with the silverware.”
Apparently Cole did not take the mage’s meaning because without pause he continued his questions. “Why are you so angry at your father?” Cole asked innocently. Blight take him, couldn’t he have picked something smaller? But no. Dorian’s relationship with his father was something that caused the mage a great deal of hurt. Of course he would start there. Fitzwilliam had been a fool not to see it coming. “He wants to help, and you know he does but…”
“I’m not certain I can explain it to you,” Dorian said calmly.
“You love him, but you’re angry,” Cole continued, tilting his head this way and that, as if trying to put broken pieces back together. Trying to see where this shard or that fit. “They mix together, boiling in the belly until it kneads into a knot.”
“Sometimes,” Dorian started. Fitzwilliam saw him swallow hard and start again. “Sometimes love isn’t enough, Cole.” The words made Fitzwilliam’s heart sink. Dorian had been hurt, so deeply. Not just by his father. No matter how much people loved him, none of them had accepted him. Love was not enough.
“Love isn’t enough?” Cole repeated, confused. “Enough what?”
Dorian was quiet for a long time. Cole had been quiet too. Fitzwilliam thought maybe the boy had enough sense, but it seemed he had just been pondering. Trying to find an answer. When he spoke it was clear he had not found it. “You didn’t explain, Dorian,” he said.
“I was rather hoping I had,” the mage sighed.
“His face in the stands,” Cole said in the dreamy voice that was the tell-tale sign that he was reciting a memory. “Watching as I pass the test. So proud, there’s tears in his eyes. Anything to make him happy. Anything.” Cole blinked and resumed in his normal voice, “Why isn’t that true anymore?”
Dorian was crying. His voice came out wavering and choked, flooded with emotion, “Cole, this…” He paused. When he began again his voice was hard. “This is not the sort of discussion for walking around. Please drop it.”
“I’m hurting you, Dorian,” Cole said, realization coloring his tone. “Words, winding, wanting, wounding. You said I could ask.”
“I know I did,” Dorian replied, voice thick with emotion. “The things you ask are just… very personal.”
“But, it hurts,” Cole insisted. “I want to help. But it’s all tangled with the love. I can’t tug it lose without tearing it. You hold him so tightly. You let it keep hurting because you think hurting is who you are. Why would you do that?”
Dorian, it seemed, had had enough. “Can you tell him to stop? Banish him back to the fade, or something.”
Fitzwilliam wanted to ease Dorian’s burden. But no. Dorian would never heal if he kept running. He had left Tevinter and never stopped. Never found a safe place. Maybe this could be it. “Cole want’s to help you, Dorian,” the Inquisitor said. “Maybe you should let him.”
The march stopped. “Marvelous,” Dorian groaned, spinning in a frustrated circle. “Everyone’s so helpful.”
“I’m sorry,” Cole said at last. “I keep making it worse.” The boy looked at the ground. He looked pained. Fitzwilliam thought he might cry.
“No,” Dorian said, putting an arm on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Of course you don’t understand. Just… leave me with it, for now.” Cole nodded and walked on.
Fitzwilliam grabbed Dorian’s arm, letting the boy get a slight lead. He’d seen him with those daggers, he’d be fine until they caught up. Dorian looked up at him. Fitzwilliam could see the tears there, rivulets marking his dusty face. The Inquisitor lifted a hand and rested it on Dorian’s cheek. His thumb smoothed across it, smudging the marks. Dorian smiled. A sad half-quirk of the lips. “You,” Fitzwilliam said with all the sincerity and affection he could pour into the words, “are a remarkable man, Dorian Pavus.”
Dorian tried valiantly to smirk. He almost managed it. “Naturally,” he replied.
“I wish I could do more,” Fitzwilliam sighed. Dorian shrugged. “I mean it.” Dorian nodded gently. “What can I do?”
When Dorian looked at him Fitzwilliam could see the longing there. And the fear. The mage’s mouth worked silently for a moment, then he dropped his eyes. Whatever he’d wanted to say… well he’d decided against it. When he looked back up his face looked pained. Like the request on his lips was hard to utter. He said, “Kiss…” Fitzwilliam was kissing him before he could finish the request. The “me” became muffled between them. The kiss was… different. The passion was there, but it was low, steady. Something… more. When they parted both men were winded, hearts pounding.
“When we get back,” Fitzwilliam sighed, resting his forehead against Dorain’s, “I need to talk with you.”
“Ah….” Dorian replied. “Talk. Yes, of course.” Some of his humor had returned. Fitzwilliam chuckled softly.
“Inquisitor,” Cole was calling.
“Best get back to it,” Dorian said with a smile. Fitzwilliam nodded and they jogged to catch up to Cole. Scenery passed in moderate silence until Skyhold was in sight. Fitzwilliam thought he might kiss the portcullis. His feet ached. His stomach grumbled. And he needed a wet rag and some hot water. But the end was in sight, and for that he was grateful.
“I’ve been trying to imagine how to explain it to you, Cole,” Dorian said. Fitzwilliam was surprised. He thought the mage would avoid continuing the conversation, but it seemed he’d been wrong. Perhaps he was merely looking to see it through before they were in Skyhold, with its many, many ears. “The thing is, sometimes the ones you love are also the ones who disappoint you the most. You think that if they love you, they should understand. They shouldn’t want to hurt you,” he continued sadly. “So you feel betrayed… You say things you can’t ever take back.”
“Get out,” Cole growled in a low dangerous voice. The party stopped. Fitzwilliam stood in shock. Dorian? Dorian looked like he was seeing a ghost. “You are no son of mine.”
Dorian blinked back tears. “Yes,” he said. And his voice was profoundly sad. “Like that.”
“He wishes he hadn’t meant it,” Cole said.
And then they walked into Skyhold proper. And no one said another word.
AN: This story is getting such great responses! I’m glad you all are enjoying.
A big thank you to everyone who has favorite or followed and an extra big thanks to those who take a moment to jot me a quick review. I’m always happy to see those in my email.
If you have questions you can feel free to message them too. As long as it won’t spoil anything I’ll be happy to answer.
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Birthrights