#Dorian Pavus x Inquisitor

[baphometsss]

genuinely curious

reblog for bigger sample size / explain why in tags

[halla-hunts-the-wolf]

My goal with the Veilguard character creator is to make the hottest and most dilf-ified husband for Dorian Pavus.

[redpool]

With the Inquisitor set to show up in Dragon Age: The Veilguard and with the continued romance thing, I don't know what I want to do because we don't know if Cullen is even going to show up in the game for one, so really the only options that I can think of Dorian because we're in Tevinter and Solas for added angst to the story.

[murchellie]

Look at them being cute 😒

I was too busy this past weeks to draw anything interesting so I just post this quick drawing of my favorite gays.

~

Commissions : Open

[nerd-elf]

Headcannon:

In DA4, when the protagonist asks a romanced Dorian how they met, he answers:

"I saved him, of course. Before me, he was being haunted by plaidweave shirts and the tackiest coats I've ever seen. "

[hedgiestail]

- You know, with Hawke we have never use to crawl around cliffs or jump of the mountains. Seriously! Not once! Always on the road, nice and mostly steady on the feet. And Inquisitor? It's like he is a mountain goat or something! Could he, at least for one day, not run onto anything?! Do you think it's Circle thing?(Varric)

- Yah, probably that, but I blame Dorian(Sera)

- Sparkle? Why's that?(Varric)

- He must do a really shitty job bedding Trevelyan if he can run around like that(Sera)

*scandalized noise*

*Dorian greatly disapprove*

[blarrghe]

Happy Friday! For your consideration, “The moon is high tonight, it frames you well.”

Love some cheesy romantic lines! A little softness that will fit nicely into my canon collection. Thank you!

WC: 972 / M / Pavellan

@dadrunkwriting

--

As the dust settled around the camp and the sun sank low, the desert air finally grew cool. Taren cooked a stew over the fire, and the company settled around him. Dorian settled under his arm. An extraordinary thing, to be under his arm. There was a certain strangenes to the feeling; comfort on a held breath. None of those around seemed to bat an eye, they even teased — even Bull, even Bull teased. Taren laughed the teasing off and remained unmoved from his spot, his arm secure around Dorian's shouder.

He was warm. Warm and… normal. He told his usual stories, laughed his usual laugh, only now he did so with Dorian under his arm. 

As the open sky grew red, Taren pulled him away. He wanted to scout out a bit of ruined watchtower in the distance. Dorian played along, offering him protection from the varghests, taunting him with silly looks. 

He watched the sun drip into Taren’s desert-red hair as he bounded off across the sand. His heart leapt to a jog.  

There were no varghests between the camp and the watchtower, no dangers in the rising dark. Only stars and a high, bright moon. Taren found a seat in the crook of an old stone wall, Dorian leaned over him. 

The old watchtower was from the second blight, Divine Age, Tevinter built — 

Seconds of that, only moments of idle words, before he was kissing him. 

He had, of course, kissed him before. 

And yet. 

“What?” Taren pulled away to smile at him, lips on a slant, eyes too knowing. Dorian was staring. 

“The moon," Dorian spoke low and leaned back, looked him over more openly — let him see him doing it, let him know — “it frames you well.” 

The smile broke to flattered amusement. His eyes closed, they kissed. 

It was so much the same; desire, heat, the scent of the campfire in his hair, and at the same time so different. This felt settled, wanted — like all he had wanted. 

It almost made him want to stop. 

A conflicted kind of moan fell out of his throat and into Taren’s mouth as Dorian felt hands lower to his sides. Taren chuckled at his lips, encouraged. His tongue met Dorian’s, and he pulled him in slow. 

“Would you share my tent with me tonight?”  Taren's voice was quiet. 

He was, had been, courting him. That was the only word for it, these gentle inquiries, these fluttery lashes and held hands under starry skies. Dances and walks in cold desert sand, watching him under the moon, feeling his mouth move over his lips. 

He almost said yes. 

“But I only just managed to get the thing up,” Dorian complained, smirking close to his lips, trailing fingers to his thigh. 

Taren laughed. 

“Next time we make camp you can help me with mine, and I will show you the ropes. So to speak.” He winked. 

“Mm, you’re much better at this camping business than I am. I’m afraid I’d ruin your simple comfort with all my tossing and complaining.” 

Taren laughed again, but he was still looking at him from under lashes. 

“Perhaps when one of these trips finally finds us stopping near an inn…” 

A guilty pang ached against all his wanting. Taren softly hummed his rejection away, and then it didn’t matter. They fell back to kissing.

To moving, to feeling one another press close, to hands running up sides and over the hooks of belts and clasps… 

“Dorian,” Taren’s voice was soft as his hands reached over the fabric of Dorian’s loose trousers beneath his robe — easy layers, practical and light. The heat was the one climate he knew how to dress for. “I want to do more with you tonight, if that’s alright.”

Dorian hummed back his agreement. It was still jarring, how he asked like that. He slipped his own hands beneath Taren’s leather vest and cloth shirt, crawling them up his stomach and chest, bringing him closer. His skin was warm and smooth. 

“And I was having so much fun playing hard to get,” Dorian muttered, playing one last smirk at his lips before Taren’s moved downwards. 

He hadn’t done this before. Dorian had tasted him — and how sweet it had been, to kneel at the Inquisitor’s feet and have him sighing and hard — but Taren had not given the act himself.

His lips now kissed Dorian’s thighs, slow presses of soft warmth. His hands spread and pulled. 

Dorian watched him, stared. 

Moonlight danced in his hair. He looked up and caught Dorian’s eye before he caught his erection in his mouth. Then he wrapped his mouth around it, eyelids lowered, tongue eager. 

Maker, he felt like nothing else. 

Dorian’s mind ceased swimming with dilemmas of etiquette, of asking the right questions and answering the wrong ones. Left behind were the heightened nerves in thoughts of shared tents and shared fires, the shock of gentle concern.

Promises of beds, promises of anything. 

His mind fell blank to be filled with only this; with feeling, with heat, with the slip of his fingers through his hair. 

He felt Taren and watched him. He came for him and kissed him, settled and wanted. He satisfied him in turn with his own frantic motions of hand and mouth, but not because it was in turn, simply because he could not get enough.

His lips addicted. His laugh was contagious. His sighs lit fires.    

“A bed,” Taren said after, all but glowing in the bright, moonlit night. “Next time, I will have you in a bed.” 

“You’ll have no argument from me.” 

They returned to camp stumbling, drunk on sex like a pair of youth. Taren kissed him in front of his tent. 

“Goodnight, Dorian,” he said, grinning, “I will see you in the morning.”

He was unbothered, content. Dorian watched him enter his tent and was almost compelled to follow. 

Almost. 

[sirvingart]

Next up is the Trevelyan twins, Ronan and Gwen. Born as the only children of the Trevelyan household, they were separated at the young age of 7 after Gwen was discovered to have magic. Ronan grew up tinkering with mechanical innovations to escape the pain of missing his twin, and Gwen threw herself into her mastery of magic to take her mind off of the loneliness and rejection she felt. Gwen became the youngest mage in Ostwick to undergo her Harrowing, and Ronan became the head of the household and everything that would entail.

More on them under the cut, my next and last part of Ren's family is Nalani Adaar and Lucienne Cadash, a qunari and half-dwarf.

Ostwick circle was in chaos when the mages rebelled, and Gwen found herself running away. She had a chance meeting with Renehna, who took her and a few sickly mages into safety. Ren ended up welcoming Gwen into her own family away from Clan Lavellan, and Gwen took over Ren's duties to help care for people when Ren went to the Conclave. It wasn't until Ren reached out to her family that Faye and Gwen knew Ren survived and they moved to Haven with the remaining sickly members of their family, most of whom didn't make the trek.

Once she arrived at Haven, Ren gave her the option to reach out to her twin brother, who came immediately upon hearing what was going on, as well as getting answers--he worried himself sick as he was unable to find Gwen when the Circles fell. As a united pair of twins, they decided to serve Ren personally as Inquisition agents, with Ronan's solemn promise he would help Ren's family and clan both survive.

Ronan was beside himself for the three years he struggled to find his sister, but ultimately assumed she must be alive somewhere. Growing up in the strict house he lived in changed him fundamentally, but being around his sister was healing for him. He finally felt himself begin to relax before Haven fell to Corypheus.

At their core, Ronan and Gwen are twins who became each others mirrors even with the distance. So different from how they remember each other but still somehow the same. Gwen is determined to pay the people she owes back with her life, taking on a true example of knighthood, while Ronan clings to his sister, praying she learns some self-preservation skills. Ronan would be the first person to admit he at his core is selfish, terrified of losing Gwen or anyone else he's grown to care about.

Religion-wise, both grew up with a strict upbringing. Gwen clung to her beliefs--she believes in the Maker, and struggles with the idea of forgiveness. Ronan has rejected all of it, steadfast in his belief that the Maker can't exist if she would allow the suffering inflicted by Templars and the Chantry.

Gwen falls in love with Cullen, who both learn to heal in their own way. Ronan, after running away from love for so long, falls in love with Dorian.

[yesiplaygamez]

Sera: Serious question, but or boobs?

My Inquisitor: hmm hmmmmm hmm men.

[johaerys-writes]

A World With You | Dorian Pavus/ Trevelyan | E | Ch. 57: Secret Memories

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

Whatever was going on in the Royal Wing was very, very wrong.

Tristan could tell the moment the key clicked in the lock and he set foot in the dimly lit hallway. His skin prickled, and a deep unease settled within him. There was an eerie sort of silence that permeated the space, yet the deeper they ventured into the dark halls, he thought he could catch faint whispers, just at the edge of hearing.

“The Veil… is thin here,” Tristan murmured. The Mark buzzed restlessly beneath his glove.

“Oh, goody,” Sera said with a roll of her eyes. “Where the heck is it not?”

“I’d be surprised if it wasn’t, frankly,” Dorian said. “There are so many horrors around here, both in and out of the Fade— and I can’t quite decide who’s better dressed.”

“Somebody, help me!”

The cry that pierced the unnatural and whisper-filled silence made Tristan jump, his blood running cold. They all sprinted towards where the cry came from, the door at the far end of the corridor. Tristan kicked open the door, only to see an elf crouched on the ground in an effort to avoid the assassin that was viciously attacking her.

“Please,” the girl cried, “save me!”

Tristan’s knives were out of their scabbards before the elf had finished her sentence. He slashed at the assassin’s wrist, rendering her grip on her dagger useless; then, he kicked her hard in the stomach, sending her plummeting out of the window.

“Are you alright?” He offered the girl his hand, who took it and gratefully let him haul her upright.

“I… I don’t think I’m hurt,” she panted, shaking all over. “Thank you. She would surely have killed me had you not shown up.”

“What happened to wanting to keep one of the assassins alive for questioning?” Dorian asked, hinging his staff over his back.

“Oh. That.” Tristan bit his lip. In his haste to save the girl, he hadn’t spared any thought to that. Not that it would have made much of a difference; he didn’t doubt this assassin would rather poison herself rather than speak to him, like her predecessor had.

But he did have one of Briala’s agents.

A few moments of questioning the elven girl didn’t yield much fruit. She didn’t know anything about why she was there, or what she had been sent there to do. One of Briala’s coded messages had led her to this place, but for what purpose, she could not say.

“I shouldn’t have trusted Briala,” she said, and by the way her voice trembled as she spat the words, it was plain to see that her leader’s betrayal weighed heavily on her. “I should never have come here.”

“How did you even get in here?” Tristan asked. “This wing is sealed.”

“There are secret passageways beneath the palace… many of them only known to Briala, and some members of the Royal family. Briala’s been watching the Grand Duke all night; no doubt she wanted me to search his sister’s room.”

Tristan and Dorian exchanged a meaningful glance. Perhaps Briala had reason to suspect Florianne as well— if it was truly Briala that had issued the order.

“I should have known this was a setup. The message said nothing of what I was supposed to find here, or that there might be assassins I’d need to look out for. She sent me here to die.” She took a deep, shaky breath, colour returning slowly to her cheeks. “I knew Briala. Before. When she was just Celene’s pet. Now she wants to play revolution— but I remember. Many of us do. She was sleeping with the Empress who burned our alienage.” She glanced timidly up at Tristan, hugging herself tightly. “If… if the Inquisition will protect me, I’ll tell you everything I know about our ‘Ambassador’. Everything.”

“Most Orlesians would think this is Celene’s scandal,” Cassandra murmured, crossing her arms before her chest. “Not Briala’s. I don’t see who a confession like this would benefit.”

Tristan pondered this a moment. He wasn’t convinced of Briala’s guilt just yet, from what the girl had said, but it never hurt to have options.

“Go to the ballroom,” he told her. “Find Commander Cullen. He’ll keep you safe.”

The elf nodded, relief evident on her features, then quietly padded away from them and out of the room. Tristan glanced around him after she was gone, at the room that had belonged to Grand Duchess Florianne since she was a child.

What could Briala be looking for here?

Celene’s former lover had nothing to gain from having one of her agents killed, by a Venatori no less. Unless she was working with them… but no. It didn’t make sense.  Why would they have killed a third of her people if she was one of theirs? That couldn’t be it. There was something else at play. There had to be.

“Perhaps Briala is suspicious of Florianne, and is looking for whatever she can use as leverage against her by searching her room,” Vivienne offered, when Tristan explained his thoughts to the team. “Or—and this is where things get interesting—Briala didn’t send the girl at all. Someone else did, someone who wanted to incriminate Briala and get her out of the picture. Briala’s coded messages aren’t as sophisticated as she’d like to think—a child could put two and two together and decrypt them.”

“Gaspard springs to mind. Or Celene. Or Florianne herself. Or— ugh, this is getting way too complicated. Find me one person in this whole damn palace that isn’t trying to kill or incriminate someone else.” Tristan turned around, striding out of the room. “We won’t find any answers standing here, that’s for sure. Let’s keep looking.”

Read the rest on Ao3!

[barayas-and-the-atom]

ok so I’ve started playing Dragon Age Inquisition and the hold their dynamic has over me-

I fuckin love that BioWare games let you be gay

[halla-hunts-the-wolf]

Pavellan at the Winter Palace.

[saerislix]

Some sketches :)

[theheraldthingy]

Made Dorian a new boyfriend because I missed him dearly. 

[videogame-ocs]

I made a new (non-canon) Inquisitor!

Basically in this playthrough, I'm exploring what would have happened had Bann Trevelyan never sent Anya, my main Inquisitor to the Conclave. So enter, Percival Trevelyan (but he prefers Percy). He's Anya's older brother, the one in the birth line just before her, and I've already decided he's going to be romancing Dorian.

[an-established-butt-dent]

Dorian Pavus, present age

Over a period of 10 years I imagine Dorian to have collected quite the library.