Chapter Text
Epilogue
Maxwell stood at the window of their rented room, eyes cast out at the view of the bustling Cumberland dockside below. It had been a noisy night on the waterfront but it was worth it. The runners from the docks had only a few hundred paces to travel to get to their door. This way, there was little chance they would be left behind by an impatient captain – a high probability, considering the temperament of the man they’d hired.
A knock at the door snagged his attention and he glanced away from the view.
“Come in!” he called out and he beamed as his sister slipped through the doorway, the redhead looking around cautiously.
“Where’s Dorian?” she asked, her tone wary.
“He’s taking a bath, don’t worry,” Max chuckled. “Said he’s going to make the most of civilisation whilst it lasts. I did tell him they have baths in Ferelden too but I’m not sure he believed me.”
Evie laughed and she joined Maxwell at the window, leaning her head on his shoulder. Max wrapped a protective arm around her waist, fingers splaying on her belly. It was still as trim as ever but he supposed it had only been a few weeks since they’d left Tevinter. Soon enough, her body would begin to change and there’d be little doubt to anyone who saw her that she was with child.
“How are you feeling this morning?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You were quite sick yesterday.”
“It was my own fault,” shrugged Evie. “I should have eaten something sooner instead of putting it off until dinner. I won’t make the same mistake again.”
Max grinned and he gave his sister an affectionate squeeze.
“Don’t worry,” he winked. “We’ll be on that ship by midday. Then it’ll be Dorian’s turn to throw up for a bit.”
A bubble of laughter escaped the girl, though she quickly stifled it, shoving Max playfully in the chest.
“Don’t be cruel,” she chuckled. “Poor Dorian. He really has very little in the way of sea legs.”
Maxwell grinned. To say Dorian wasn’t much of a sailor was something of an understatement. His seasickness was severe. Thankfully, the journey from Cumberland to Jader wasn’t a particularly long one and they could continue to Ferelden on foot from thereon out. Of course, Dorian would likely find something new to complain about but that was to be expected. It was part of his charm.
“So, I can’t help but notice the unmade bed,” Evie commented, drawing Maxwell from his thoughts. He glanced instinctively back into the room, at the twin bed that had spent the night untouched, and he grinned. Evie laughed. “So it’s true. You two are sleeping together again.”
“Just sleeping,” the rogue pointed out. “We’ve agreed to take it slow, remember?”
Over the last few weeks, something had been happening between him and Dorian. It had started with a kiss, a hasty, ill-considered response to the bubbling tension between them. After that kiss – and the intimate cinch that had followed – they’d agreed to take things slowly, to see how things would unfold. It wasn’t easy. Their chemistry often took them off guard and they’d been forced to come up with creative ways to not break their promise. Max could no longer deny that he was feeling the stirrings of something other than attraction to Dorian. The man was witty, intelligent, brave, charming… resisting him was like swimming against the tide.
“Look at you!” Evie grinned. “You’re smitten, aren’t you? How badly to you want to go against your word right now?”
Max groaned. “Maker, I’d give all the gold in Orzammar,” he admitted, shaking his head. “But I won’t. Not until he’s ready.”
His sister laughed. “Well, look at you being a gentleman! I’m proud of you brother.”
“Andraste’s tits, you sound like him!” scowled Max. “Why does everyone seem to think that’s beyond me?”
“I’m only teasing you, Maxi,” Evie responded, with another gentle jab. “I actually think you’re more honourable than people give you credit for.”
“Oh gee, thanks,” the rogue muttered. Turning away from the window at last, he led his sister towards the table by the fireplace. Cumberland’s winter was much chiller than the balmy nights they’d experienced in the Imperium, so they were grateful for the flames dancing in the grate. Max threw another log on the fire before sitting down opposite Evie.
“So, where’s your beloved this morning?” he asked.
“Cleaning up,” Evie smirked in reply and she laughed at Max’s expression of discomfort.
“Really?” he muttered. “I thought with you being… you know…”
The redhead scoffed, putting on an air of offence.
“I’ll have you know that being pregnant does not stop a woman from enjoying her man’s attentions,” she sniffed. “From what I hear, some men really enjoy it.”
Maxwell groaned weakly. “Eurgh, Evie, please,” he implored her. “Some things a brother does not need to know about his baby sister and her love life.”
“Perhaps you don’t but I for one am always eager for a little scandalous gossip.”
The door to the bedroom opened again and Dorian sauntered in, fully dressed and preened to perfection. He gave Max a jaunty wink, tossing his pack onto the bed and then moving to join them.
“Morning, amicus,” he beamed, pressing an affectionate kiss to Evie’s brow. “I trust you’re feeling better today?”
“Better enough to be bouncing around on top of Cullen,” muttered Max and he yelped when Evie kicked him roughly under the table.
“I’m fine,” she smiled sweetly at Dorian, who had the grace to hide his laughter behind his ringed fingers. “Thank you for asking. And might I say you look particularly well-rested this morning.”
Evie smile widened smugly but Dorian simply chuckled, sinking into a chair beside her without a hint of embarrassment.
“Your brother does make an exceptionally comfortable pillow,” he grinned. “Tea, my dear?”
Swathing his hand in a frost spell, the mage plucked the kettle off the fire and set about making a fresh pot of tea. Max cleared away the remnants of their breakfast, bringing a clean pair of cups over from the dresser and setting one down in front of his sister.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “So Dorian, ready to set sail?”
The Altus sighed, rolling his eyes when she giggled.
“Oh yes, it should be a delight!” was his sarcastic response as he poured her her tea. “I’m not sure what I’m anticipating more – the country full of your barbarian brethren or the two days of vomiting and dizziness it will require for us to get there.”
“Ferelden’s not so bad, you know,” Evie said, fairly.
“I know,” smiled Dorian. “It certainly beats back home, where murder and blood magic are an acceptable response to disliking your son’s lover.”
“Jealousy,” Max winked. “She just wanted me for herself.”
Dorian snorted. “Worryingly, there’s every chance you could be right there,” he admitted. “No matter, though. We’ll be out of her reach before long. Has there been any word from our charming captain whilst I’ve been busy?”
“Not yet,” said Max. “Though I can’t imagine it will be long.”
He heard footsteps outside the door then and he frowned over at it. However, it was only Cullen, who beamed at them all as he slipped into the room.
“You’re all looking cheerful,” he declared.
“I could say the same of you,” grinned Maxwell. “But maybe that’s something to do with what you’ve been up to this morning…”
He bounced his eyebrows at the blonde. Predictably, Cullen blushed but he didn’t stutter and back-track like he had done months before. He simply sank into the chair next to Evie, throwing an arm around her shoulders and grinning defiantly at the rogue.
“Well, someone has to keep her satisfied,” he shrugged, with an air of nonchalance. Max almost choked on his tea, which only prompted them all to laugh like hyenas.
“Oh look, he’s learning!” Dorian exclaimed, delightedly. “Bravo, Commander!”
Maxwell made a good show of glaring though it was only for effect. All squeamishness aside, he was glad that his sister was happy with such a capable, faithful man. It seemed only right that something good should come from her confinement in the Circle.
They continued to chatter over their tea for a little while longer. The last few dregs in their cups were going cold by the time their door was knocked upon again. This time it was the runner from the docks and their conversation was hastily abandoned as they prepared to get on their way.
“We’ll go and fetch our things and settle up at the bar,” Cullen declared, helping Evie to her feet. “Shall we meet you downstairs in a few minutes?”
Maxwell nodded and the two of them – and the messenger – hurried out of the room. Max then turned to Dorian, offering the handsome mage a smile.
“Are you ready?” he murmured, as Dorian busied himself adjusting his pack.
The Altus sighed through his nose, heaving the bag onto his shoulder.
“As ready as I’ll ever be I suppose,” he responded. “I wish I knew precisely why this leg of the journey feels more symbolic but…” He trailed off, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “Perhaps it’s because the end is closer?”
Max gave him his kindest smile in lieu of an answer he couldn’t provide. He took Dorian gently by the hands and pulled him in close to press a delicate kiss to his lips.
“You’ve made the right choice,” he assured him, and he rested his forehead against the other man’s. “We’ve made the right choice. This is the way forward – for all of us.”
He squeezed Dorian’s hands and the mage gave a reluctant chuckle.
“I suppose only time will tell,” he sighed. His gaze flickered to the door and he sucked in a deep, steadying breath. “Well, I suppose we’d better dash. I have a delightful day or two of sickness ahead and I certainly wouldn’t want us to be late!”
Grinning, Max nodded, gesturing for Dorian to go first. The Altus made to pull his hand away, as he so often did before they stepped out in public. This time, however, Maxwell held on tight.
“Together,” he stated, when Dorian looked back in surprise. “We do this together.”
A slow but genuine smile spread across the other man’s face, lighting up his grey eyes and making Max’s heart flutter just a little faster in his chest.
“Together,” he agreed, and they headed for the door hand-in-hand.