Maedwyn Lavellan x Dorian Pavus. The Fallow Mires.
Written for Dorianmance Week 2017. :D Mostly a character practice for Dorian because holy shit son, ur hard. (No pun intended oh my god.) Not even really Pre-Pavellan, but hey. Dorisass, something to die for no?
The first time Maedwyn gave Dorian a new staff (after he broke his old one over the head of yet another old demon when the thing foolishly tried to maim him), he said, “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” Maedwyn asked, startled more by the sudden harsh tone Dorian took than the words themselves. For a moment he thought he might have finally lost his temper. It would be no surprise. It was Maedwyn’s fault to have underestimated the terrible conditions of the Fallow Mires and invited Dorian along, and now they were ankles-deep in filthy, fetid bog waters praying the dead wouldn’t crawl forth to drag them under. Their tents, pitched on earth too soft to be anything better than mud, flapped sadly at their backs.
But Dorian was turning the staff round and round in his hands, examining the weapon as best as he could with Veilfire’s limited, eerie greenish glow. He was studiously not looking at him, Maedwyn noticed, and after a moment of feeling both peeved and confused, decided to step back – away.