killedwithlove | for insurgoaltus

Dorian had, with good reason, let Cole have his day visiting all the sad folk and baby ducklings with a broken leg on his own. No need to be a hovering mother hen, and besides, he was going out to face his detractors. He was ready for any and all to come after him for dallying with the young man sans spirit. Yet after three very purposeful walks around Skyhold, he didn't get as much as a dirty look.

Huh. The Inquisitor must have spread the word around.

So he went to the tavern, sat down to have a truly horrible glass of wine, and found himself with a Sera, a Iron Bull and a Varric, who started playing Wicked Grace and making fun of Cullen's apparent crush on one of the mage girls. It was ... normal. He liked normal - at least for them normal - so he let himself relax.

Which was a mistake, because then he wasn't prepared for one of Leiliana's scouts to come up to him, and drop off a letter from his mother on his way to dinner.

After that, he went to the library and glowered out of the window, trying not to crumple the thing in his hand into a tight little ball so it could meet his rage.

He actually heard Cole before he spoke, so he was dimly proud of him for remembering. He started off by saying simply, "My mother is very disappointed in me."

Cole came closer, managing to stay here and move with walking, no just stepping to the space next to Dorian. He dropped down next to him, hands on his arm and looking up at him. "Why? You're brilliant and handsome and generous and kind."

He could feel why, tickling on the edge of his awareness, but sometimes he had to be good and let people say it, not just read it.

Dorian heaved out a sigh, staring pensively out at the courtyard below. He could see Cullen down there, directing troops as Leliana followed by his side. His lips pressed together, and he tried to pull himself further into himself.

"I am also a gross disappointment to my mother - and some sort of horrible abomination besides. My mother never really was very clear on her demonic lore." He sighed quietly, tilting his head back.

For all that he knew it happened, Cole still struggled to understand why parents would hurt their children by saying such things. Even on bits of paper.

He shuffled around to in front of Dorian, resting his hands on his knees and then his chin on his hands to watch him. "You're not an abomination. Even I'm not an abomination and I'm much closer to being one than you."

Well, Dorian was doing his best to rub out the words with his fingers and thumbs, he kept running them over the ink. As if willing them to smear into the ugly lies they were.

He looked down to where Cole was crouched, and one corner of his mouth twisted. "You see. Completely without the proper demonic lore." He sighed as he looked out the window again. "She says it would all be forgiven if I just came home - gave her and Father what they want ... and she says she's afraid of me. Afraid what will happen if I live my life this ... unnatural way. She doesn't even threaten to disown me - just ... curses and begs me in the same breath. My mother has always been a contradiction to me."

Cole's hand reached out to touch the paper and then to curl on Dorian's hand instead. "She's scared. Because you break the mold. You burn so bright and brilliant. Not just to me, to everyone."

He wriggled in closer, pushing Dorian's knees apart to settle in between them. "You don't need forgiving for who you love, or for refusing to do bad things, just because other people do it too. You taught yourself right and wrong and you've stuck by it, in the face of your world telling you to give it up."

Dorian felt Cole's fingers curling around his, making him lose contact with the paper. He reached out, stroking Cole's fingers with his own, his voice soft. "So is she scared for me, or of me? I don't think that's ever been really clear."

He let out a deep breath, looking down at the young man perched between his legs, grey eyes searching Cole's pale blue ones. "I've never been tempted -- isn't that absurd? No matter what that life was thrown at me - the good, the bad, everything ... I was never tempted to go down that path. To give up everything for power and for wealth, to damn myself with blood magic. Is that what makes me different? I just don't know how to want to be corrupted?"

"Yes." Both. "People fear what they don't understand. You're bright and brilliant and fight against the world and she's scared for you, but because you can do, refuse to remain unbowed, she's scared of you, too. Not your magic, or who you love. She fear non-comformity and how strong your spirit is."

Cole slid his hands over Dorian's, feeling his fingers. "I don't think it's strange. But I'm very strange." He bent to kiss his knuckles softly. "You want to be you. That's good."

"So she's afraid I'm going to get hurt, and she's afraid I am going to change her world. Well, Mother, it appears you are shit out of luck, because I can't stop the first and I will not stop the second. Her world does need to change." Tevinter first, then everywhere else. Maybe not in big sweeping motions ...but yes.

"You're very strange, indeed, but in an adorable sort of way." He smiled at the gesture, quietly, "I could not imagine being anyone else. I am glad you like that."

"Yes." Both those statement were true. To Cole, it made perfect sense that they existed together for Dorian's mother. He touched the paper again and dropped his hand away, sliding it over Dorian's knee to rub softly.

"I don't mind being strange. And I'm glad you're not someone else. I might not like you being someone else as much and that would make me sad."

Finally, Dorian put the letter aside and instead wrapped his fingers around Cole's wrist, so he could pull the young spirit-man up and into his lap. Purely so he could press his face into Cole's strong shoulder, and sigh.

"Well, then you ought to be very glad my parents never had their way, and never will. Whoever that Dorian would have become is lost and long ago. There's only the me here, who is dreadfully fond of the Cole you are now."

Cole slid up onto Dorian's lap in a graceful move, ruined by promptly banging his knee on the frame of the chair before cuddling in. He stroked the shaved side of Dorian's head, feeling the way it tickled his fingertips.

"You didn't know the other Coles I was." And he had been a few of them over the years. "You've only known two Coles. I've been more than that." He trailed a curl of slowly unknotting anxiety across Dorian's shoulder and neck.

Dorian winced as Cole's knee banged against the chair, and one hand went to massage the poor, injured limb. Honestly, the man just couldn't seem to keep from hurting himself.

He sighed, softly, before he tipped his head back at Cole, his gaze serious. "I know there was you Cole, and the human Cole. There was ... mage Cole and demon Cole, yes?"

Cole, like many not quite finished growing animals, didn't always judge his limbs quite right.

"There was the apostate, but I was never him, and then there was Despairing Cole who lived in the Pit, and then I became shattered Cole, after Lambert told me what I was and then I became Mercy Cole. I was that Cole for a long time, then I joined the Inquisition and I confronted the Templar who hurt me and now I'm this Cole."

Each major event that had reshaped the fabric of what he was, on a fundamental level.

"I won't be different Coles anymore. I know who I am. I might grow and change, but I won't be different. Like people." He brushed his fingers through Dorian's hair, watching his gaze evenly. "Spirits change who they are. Not like people. But now I won't do that. I think... it's easier in some ways. But much harder in others."

He hummed softly, thinking of all those Coles. Each Cole was a new side of Cole, summing up to this Cole, the one who who was curled into him, pressing his fingers through his hair. Looking at him under those long, blonde eyelashes, his voice soft.

He slipped his arm around the other man's waist, tugged him in and lifted his hand to slide along the other man's jaw. "Well, I like this Cole. This Cole is here, with me and for me. And I am here for him. So ... thank you for this. And you."

Cole leaned into the touch immediately, trustingly resting his head into Dorian's hand and closing his eyes, soaking in the feeling. "I think all the Coles would have liked you, though. Even Despair."

He turned his head into the hand more. "That feels nice."

He chuckled quietly, continuing to gently caress the side of Cole's face, feeling for the first time in a few hours that his choice was more than the right one. That if he had not, he would not have met and fallen for this rather ... unique man. "Well, Despair and I would have been old friends, don't you know? Loads in common."

One corner of his mouth crooked up, as he said quietly, "That's why I am doing it."

"Not that sort of Despair. You've never given up. Even when it was awful and giving up would have been easier, you never did it. You kept shining bright, because it was the right thing to do." His face was peaceful, almost sleeping peaceful, even though he spoke.

"Thank you, then, for doing it."

"Well, I thought about it ... but honestly that would have made all the wrong people happy. I never make those people happy. They're too deplorable for words." Dorian allowed his fingers to trace over the lines of Cole's face - both brilliant and sub-par. How could he have fallen for such an interesting face, with good lines and such a deplorable nose? Tch.

"Thank you, for letting me."

"My nose works like a nose should." He wasn't upset that Dorian thought his nose was not right for his face. Cole knew it was just fine. It did what it should and it was his.

"You touch me so it won't hurt. You're always careful that it doesn't hurt. I like that."

"Your nose makes your entire face look narrow, and it ruins perfectly gorgeous lines." Dorian stated firmly, before he tweaked that nose. "You're lucky I adore you, and so adore your snub nose."

His fingers smoothed along Cole's cheek again, "I have a feeling people have hurt you enough - I don't want to be in that number. I want it to feel good, not bad."

"My face is narrow." He jumped at the tweak, then gave a short, small laugh. "That felt strange."

Cole shifted his weight so he could bring his head to Dorian's shoulder, nose brushing the side of his neck and breathing slow and even. "You don't hurt me. You've never hurt me. Solas once accidentally hit me with his staff when he was talking. He didn't hear me come up behind him and he gestured and..."

And Cole had had a black eye for a day. It was sort of funny.

"Yes, but it is not that narrow." Dorian huffed, "Trust the expert on handsome features. He smiled a little, "Good, it was meant to tickle."

He shifted himself, wrapping one arm around Cole's waist, and his free hand just slipping along Cole's jaw and throat gently, "Clearly, Solas needs to pay more attention to the world around him. Especially when he's swinging his staff around."

"All right. I trust you."

As demonstrated by letting Dorian stroked his throat, when he had so many memories associated with it.

"He never did it again. He was very sorry."

Three little words that meant the world to Dorian. In answer, he leaned in and brushed his lips over that fine cheek, and over that snub nose; fond, soft kisses.

"As well he should be ... going around, whacking people with staffs. This is why people think mages are so violent - we're always whacking people over the heads with the things."

for insurgoaltus

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