#I react so so poorly to people who care so much they overstep my emotional boundaries

[neverendingford]

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[sparemyocs]

The Fade And Faded (Pt1)

(For context, this is a ‘Bad End’ to The Fade And Fading series) He was a fool. Allowing Hanhari time to celebrate with the Inquisition had given Vivienne time to act. For what it counted, it had been a nice party. Josephine had managed beautifully on such short notice but in hindsight it’s hard not to wonder if perhaps it’d all been an elaborate trap to make him let down his guard. Josephine, however cunning, wasn’t so devious though. That was only his paranoia eating at him.Vivienne was well connected enough to have managed this alone.

It was Leliana who pulled Dorian away from the party, her spies having caught onto the trouble (but not intervened. For fear? Or on order?) as it progressed. The dungeons, for lack of a better word, had a number of Chevaliers presumably under Vivienne’s employ, and a few templars whom Dorian vaguely recognized from around Skyhold. They’d struck him as the bitter sort but before now he’d never really had any proof behind that hunch. And at the center of it all was Vivienne herself, hand on Hanhari’s chin, tilting his face up as she apologized for her behavior. “But you surely understand now that it was necessary dear. I’d like to hope that you did before.” He seemed largely untroubled, other than his right hand gently rubbing the lyrium brand disrupting the delicate red lines reaching up from the bridge of his nose. “How dare you! Unhand him immediately!” Dorian charged forward, uncaring of the group of well armored individuals around the pair. A few drew weapons but nothing more. Vivienne obeyed him with a frown, getting out of the way smoothly before he fell upon the short man. “Hanhari! Are you alright? Does it hurt?” He pulled the elf’s hand away from his forehead, pulling his hair back with his other hand for a better view. “You damaged his vallaslin!” He only looked back to Vivienne in anger for a moment, begrudged to pull his attention away from his amatus. “He has already told us that he was not going back to his clan. I imagine that’s no different now. It isn’t as though he will be troubled by it.” “…I am fine. It does not hurt much. Aches though. Is that enough information?” He looked up to Dorian blankly, his gaze duller than it should have been looking at him. “No!” He wailed, pulling the man close when he opened his mouth to continue, “Ah, not you. Fasta vass.” He swallowed a few times, trying to chase the dry, choked feeling in his throat. What about the Anchor? His amatus literally had a bit of the Fade attached to him (that is what it was, wasn’t it? Suddenly he wasn’t so sure. He should have been studying it more all this time), why was it having no effect? Or was it, and it simply wasn’t enough somehow? “…Come with me amatus. I can’t stay here any longer…” Keeping an arm around his shoulders, he started pulling the other man away with him. He encountered no resistance. “I am sorry, Dorian. But it is better this way. I only want what is best for him.” He froze up at the woman’s words. “‘Better this way’? For whom, exactly? For your delicate Orlesian senses perhaps?” He let go of Hanhari, who waited for him patiently as he snarled at the other mage. “Leliana… If you don’t want this interrupting the celebration, then you may take him to my quarters.” “Dorian, what are you doing?” The woman stepped forward, not touching the Tranquil elf at all as she came close. “…I’m going to kill her.” “Nonsense. You are not even armed, and it will accomplish nothing!” “Do I look like I care?! I-” “I agree with Leliana.” Hanhari stated firmly. “It is not productive. …As Inquisitor, I won’t have it.” Dorian stared at the other for a long moment. Tranquil weren’t suppose to give orders of any kind. Of course, he was following Leliana one could argue, but he was doing so with the intention of enforcing her recommendation. “I… …As you wish, I suppose. Do you mind coming to my quarters with me?” He shook his head and offered his hand placidly, “It seems you would be better off elsewhere anyway.” He tried not to stare any longer. It wasn’t the same voice exactly, but it was the same force and it was bizarre. Dorian had dealt with Tranquil before. Oh they tried to hide them at home, but there was enough of them that it was impossible to catch every one. Like drops of water through a damaged roof. Dorian knew enough to know that Hanhari had not forgotten who he was, nor was he simply a puppet, but the implications of that were only really hitting him now. “You’re right. I apologize for my brash behavior…” Dorian allowed himself to be led back into the evening air. Only the spymaster followed them. “It’s fine. Under the circumstances I should have expected it. I think you’ll not be the last to react this way. Leliana?” His tone was empty, the intonation behind his question feeling mechanical. It sent icy shivers down Dorian’s back. “Yes, Inquisitor?” She spoke hesitantly, trying to get a read on a man who no longer had any emotional cues. Lady Nightingale had a twinkle of fascination in her eyes but her lips were tense, as were her shoulders. Dorian couldn’t help but wonder what she was looking for. Was she simply as shocked as he was at his continued hold on authority? Then again… Vivienne had clearly had to restrain him to accomplish her goal if her help was anything to go by and she was technically one of his followers. Not even an advisor. It made sense that he would have recognized that she had no authority to strip him of his position. “Arrange for Vivienne’s departure. Make it quiet: an incident involving internal violence so shortly after our victory would reflect poorly on us. She did overstep her bounds. Unfortunately I don’t think this particular act of insubordination can be covered up. I do not expect her to return under any foreseeable circumstance. After that, inform Cullen and Josephine. Try not to distress them.” “Understood, Inquisitor. What of the others?” “Do as you see fit. They will all know in due time.” Leliana frowned, staying back at the foot of the stairs up to the battlements as they ascended. Really, it was so callous an assessment. So unlike him. …What was Hanhari without his mercy? His compassion and sense of humor? Dorian took a steadying breath. He’d be finding out. For the time being there was no getting out of this. At least for the evening. …Alexius was still around. Surely this would count as magical research, yes? Cole was readily available, but his status as a spirit was dubious now… Worth a look regardless. His necromancy could be useful, if applied with caution, but he’d need test subjects first and that edged the line of the morally acceptable. There was also the matter of the Anchor and it’s effect on the elf that would need investigation. His certainty that it would have counteracted the lyrium branding likely didn’t help his lack of precautions against this… Fool assumptions. He’d be making no more of them.

The walk to his quarters was stiff and quiet. Dorian’s mind was spinning with dozens of possibilities (how would the others react? Particularly Miris… He didn’t want to dwell on this. What could he do?) and Hanhari had no need to speak. The room they arrived in was unpleasantly cool and stuffy with dust. Dorian did still have some things here, but he’d largely moved into the Inquisitor’s room. The man in question pulled smoothly away from him, pulling a spare blanket from under his bed and setting it on top before going digging through his drawers. “You should sit down. You’re still distressed.” “As you wish… What are you looking for?” “Nightclothes, candles, and a rag.” “You presume I would have candles? …What do you need candles for?” He paused, looking up at the other. “Do you not? It seemed the sort of extraneous thing you would like to have. I understand that the current setting will not help much with your discomfort.” Dorian frowned, “You’re… trying to make me comfortable?” “Comfortable people do better work and are more likely to listen. You’ll also not sleep as well if you are uncomfortable, which affects your work and, more importantly, your health.” “…I suppose those are all fair points. Would you be doing the same for someone else?” “I wouldn’t be sleeping with someone else.” Dorian sighed, not sure if the blunt words took any edge off of the situation. He watched Hanhari search his belongings for a bit longer before burying his face in his hands. The man was right, he’d never get any sleep if his rushing mind didn’t settle and if he didn’t sleep he wouldn’t get in any good work tomorrow. The better a start he got, the sooner this… This nightmare, would be over for both of them. The rustle of clothes grabbed his attention and he looked up, perhaps against his better judgement, as the other man undressed. There was no show or shyness but that could be expected. Dorian wasn’t much for nightclothes, but the chill of Skyhold had made them more appealing for a while (even if all that was available at the time was horrifically dull looking). Hanhari’s quarters… Well, they’d both found that they were perfectly warm together even without clothes. “You know, I think this may be the first time you’ve worn any clothes of mine. …Truly a lost opportunity.” “How so? It doesn’t fit at all.” Indeed, try as he might to adjust the thick cotton shirt and pants they were made for a wider, taller, human frame. There was no annoyance in his voice, but it was deliciously easy to imagine. “Hm, so it seems. Put it away, with the extra blanket and me around you, neither of us should get particularly cold and we won’t be disturbed tomorrow morning. Whatever business remains, it isn’t urgent amatus. And you wouldn’t want to go out in nightclothes anyway, mine or yours.” “…Yes. You’re right.” He gave up the fuss without fanfare, letting the pants drop to the floor but leaving the shirt on for the time being. He carefully wiped down a few of the dusty dressers as well as the vanity, then set out the scented candles that, admittedly, Dorian had managed to forget about. Without being asked, as each was set down, Dorian extended the small amount of energy required to light them. Looking around, the elf gave an approving nod and finally stripped the oversized shirt back off his body. Grabbing the pants, he refolded them and placed them back where he presumably found them, along with another set of clothes that Dorian hadn’t noticed before. They’d likely been fetched for him. The elf didn’t move stiffly exactly as he came over, but something about it was different. No lean towards the object of his focus perhaps? The mage swallowed hard and looked away as the other man started removing his clothes. Hanhari had once joked that his preferred outfit was a bit like a puzzle. ( One more reason to enjoy undressing you. There’s such a nice reward for solving it! ) Grey eyes fluttered closed as warm, steady hands stroked down his neck and shoulders as he was stripped. “I’ll need you to stand if you want me to finish.” “No… No it’s fine. I’ll deal with this and you lie down. I’m perfectly capable.” “I know.” The elf rounded the bed while he dealt with his boots, pants, and smalls. Dorian wanted as few reminders of his failure while he tried to get to sleep as reasonably possible. Hopefully he’d wake up better equipped to deal with this somehow. It hadn’t been as terrible as he’d been expecting- for him. What was happening to Hanhari was likely infinitely more unpleasant for him… Not now per say but in hindsight…. Assuming that this really could be- Dorian shook his head, taking a deep breath and getting into his long abandoned bed. Hanhari adjusted onto his side to face the other, observing him with an utterly unreadable expression. …Likely because there was nothing to be read. “I’m… sorry. I don’t mean to behave standoffishly…” “It is fine. This is an unusual situation, right? Most people do not stay with Tranquil partners, do they? …I don’t know much about Tranquility truthfully. What I do know is largely negative.” His eyes still had some shine in them. Interest and focus. It wasn’t hungry or sharp but it was there. “I wouldn’t know. Most of Thedas likes to brush the Tranquil away and they know it. …I won’t do that to you amatus.” “I know. …Do you want to talk, or just sleep? I’m fine with either.” The Tevinter gently wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling the elf under his chin. “…Sleep. Let’s… just sleep.” “Alright.” With a shaky breath, Dorian squeezed his eyes shut (squeezed his amatus) and prayed that somehow, maybe, this had all just been a dream in the Fade gone sour.