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Tarquin had to ask for directions. The first time he sat a foot in Ventus in seventeen years and he had to ask to find his way home. Part of him had hoped he would remember once he was back but of course the city had changed since he had left. He had only ever exchanged letters with his family since he had signed up and once he had left the army, those had ceased as well. He didn’t know how his father would react to him not being a soldier anymore, not when his approval had hinged on that.

Ashur didn’t say anything. He was dressed in the simpler clothes of a chantry father, something Dorian had made fun of on the ship. Perhaps they should have taken advantage of Dorian’s offer of a carriage but Tarquin hadn’t wanted to explain that to his family. Not when there were so many other things to talk about, if they made it that far.

Slowly they made their way through the city, the streets disappearing underground only to surface again later. Most houses had been hewn out of the stone that Ventus was built into. Space inside the city walls was precious but Tarquin’s family had been prominent enough to live here and above ground.

“I’m looking for the Severius family”, Tarquin asked an old man when they reached the part of the city where the houses were carved with the sigils of Tevinter’s legions.

“Prefect Severius? What business has the Chantry with him?” The old man squinted suspiciously at both of them.

“I’m his son.” His heart beat faster. It was the first time he had made that claim inside the city, had only really started living as a man when he had joined the army.

“Don’t mistake me for a fool”, the old man said. “I know all of the Severius boys. They’re all home, except…” he squinted at Tarquin. “You’re that one.”

Tarquin braced to be called by a name he had left behind with his childhood, with his home town.

“We all thought you were dead.” The old man said, half-astonished, half-accusatory. “Third street on the right. You remember your house?”

“I do. Thank you.” He released the breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding.

For a brief moment Ashur’s hand slipped into his and squeezed it tightly.

“You didn’t say your father was a prefect. I feel underdressed now.”

“He wasn’t prefect the last time I wrote him”, Tarquin replied, trying to get his heartbeat under control. He had never risen above a common foot soldier. Coming home had been a mistake. What was he even trying to prove? And why had he brought Ashur to witness all of this?

They reached the street and the familiarity of it was like a punch to the gut. He wanted nothing more than to turn and run but instead he put one foot in front of the other even though every step seemed to add iron bands around his chest until he could barely breathe.

The house was still the same, the sigil of the Tevinter Legion prominently carved in the front with the numbers of the legions listed in a line below, Tarquin’s included. His heart skipped a beat when he saw it.

Slowly he walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. The window shutters were painted in a dull orange and shut to keep out the day’s heat. Had they always been this colour? He couldn’t remember anymore.

“Avanna, can I help you?” The man on the other side of the door was a stranger, proudly showing his bare neck and the pendant that identified him as a liberati. Many military families employed freed army slaves in their households as a status symbol.

“I’m looking for prefect Tullius Severius. I’m his son.” Tarquin hated how his voice wavered on the last word.

“His son?” The liberati looked surprised. “Excuse me for a moment.” And closed the door again.

“Should’ve expected that”, Tarquin said with a levity he wasn’t feeling.

Once more Ashur briefly squeezed his hand. “If it stays closed, Dorian’s family has a truly impressive wine cellar.”

“Good to know.” He wasn’t sure what he would do if the door stayed close. Part of him even expected it.

“Tarquin.” The door opened again and his older brother Lucius stared at him as if he was seeing a ghost. “Is it really you?”

“Afraid so.” And then Lucius was hugging him like…like he hadn’t seen him in seventeen years.

“Come in, come in.”, Lucius waved them inside. “Meneas! Go and tell Thannia and Velia that Tarquin is home. Go now!”

The liberati didn’t need to be told twice, already hurrying past them through the door.

“Why didn’t you write? We all thought you were dead!”

“Is father home?” Tarquin asked instead.

“He and Arrun should be back soon. Maker strike me, I should’ve told Meneas to fetch them, too.” Only now Lucius noticed Ashur who had followed them inside. “I’m sorry, pater, I am Lucius Severius.”

“Avanna, Lucius Severius, I am Ashur Viperius.”

For once Tarquin managed not to roll his eyes when Ashur gave his fake name, too overwhelmed by Lucius’ warm welcome.

Before Lucius could ask why Ashur was here, a woman came down the stairs. “Lucius? Who is that?”

“Tullia!” Lucius smiled. “This is my brother Tarquin.”

“Tarquin?” She asked as she walked down the stairs, “but I thought – “

“Turns out he’s not dead, just forgot how to write apparently.” There was a little too much force behind the comment to count as a joke and Tarquin wasn’t sure what to make of it. Because of their father’s military campaigns, there were quite a few age gaps between him and his siblings. Both of his older brothers had left for the army when he had still been a child and in turn his younger siblings had been children when he had left.

“You probably don’t want to answer the same questions five times, so I’ll wait until the rest of the family is here”, Lucius continued. “Which should be any moment now. Meneas is quick on his feet and none of us left Ventus.”

As if to prove him right, there was a knock on the door. Tarquin braced to see his father before it occurred to him that he wouldn’t knock. Instead it was his sister Thannia. The last time he had seen her, she had been seven years old, now she was wearing a shawl over her hair to show she was a married woman.

“Avanna”, she said and kissed his cheek, a look on apprehension on her face. Of course to her he was a figure from letters, not a real person. It would be the same for his other sister Velia when she arrived, she and Thannia were twins.

“Tarquin.” Fear ran down his spine like icy water when he heard his father’s voice. He forced himself to turn to face him, bracing himself for the disappointment and disapproval he was expecting.

“Father.” His father looked him up and down and even glanced at Ashur though he did not ask questions nor introduced himself.

“Lucius, tell the cook to prepare a meal for the entire family tonight.” His father turned back to him. “Come, we have much to talk about.”

Ashur gave him a reassuring smile when Tarquin glanced at him as he followed his father upstairs. The study was his parents’ sanctuary where they conducted business. Getting called inside had never been taken lightly by him and his siblings. The last time had been when Tarquin had decided to be true to himself and his father had laid out the terms for his acceptance.

The slap to the face as soon as the door had closed, was not surprising but that did not mean it didn’t hurt. At least his father had spared him to be humiliated in front of the entire family. He stood there, his cheek burning, and waited for his father to lay into him.

“How dare you come here”, his father’s voice was shaking with barely suppressed fury. “Just waltz through the door like nothing happened?”

Through a gap in the shutters, Tarquin could see a sliver of the sea and somewhere, in the distance beyond the horizon, Minrathous. He wished he had never left it.

“Do you have nothing to say for yourself?” The anger gave away to disappointment and no matter how much he had expected it, it still cut deeply.

“Would it make a difference?” Tarquin asked, still keeping his eyes trained on the windows instead of his father.

“Some sort of explanation would nice, yes.”

“I was a rubbish soldier, what else do you need to know?” Tarquin asked, suddenly feeling angry. He had tried his best, both as a soldier and a templar, but it hadn’t been enough. “So I left even though it broke our agreement.”

“Our…what are you talking about?”

“Our agreement”, Tarquin finally managed to look his father in the eyes. “The last time I was in here, you said I would have to join the army like all the men in our family for to accept me.”

“And you did”, for once his father looked genuinely baffled. “What does that have to do with you not writing to us for five years?”

“I couldn’t be the son you wanted me to be.”

“So you thought I’d rather think of you as dead?”

“I’d rather be your dead son than your living daughter.”

“Tarquin – “ his father put a hand over his mouth, pure shock and horror on his face. “If I had known you would take my words to heart like that…I thought it would help you to find your place, like it did for your brothers and for me and your grand-father.”

“It didn’t.”

“And being a templar does?” His father sounded rightfully sceptical.

Tarquin shrugged. Without joining the templars he wouldn’t have joined the Shadow Dragons and he wouldn’t have met Ashur. “It’s complicated.”

His father nodded as if that made sense. “For once and for all, Tarquin. My anger is about silence, not your decision to leave the army.”

Would his father reacted the same way if Tarquin had come to him five years ago?

“There’s more”, he forced himself to say. “The man I brought with me, Ashur. He’s my partner.” He looked up at his father defiantly.

His father took a deep breath. “Is he the reason you left the army?”

“No. I only met him later.”

“He’s a mage, Tarquin. You know as well as I do that consorting with their kind always leads to trouble. And given your phrasing and your situation, I assume he has not offered you the security of marriage.”

Tarquin couldn’t help a quick smile, imaging the scandal that would cause. “You’re disappointed.”

“Yes, I had hoped you would marry well like your siblings, but beyond anything else I am relieved you are alive.” His father squeezed his shoulder. “And I am glad you’re home.”

“Thank you.” It was more than he had expected. He had always known he was a disappointment to his father in one way or another but that it turned out to be his relationship with Ashur, was in some ways a relief.

“Let us go down, I am sure your brothers and sisters have questions they would like answered”, his father said, gesturing towards the door. “Where are you and your friend staying?”

“With a friend”, Tarquin replied quickly before his father could offer to let them stay the night.

The rest of his siblings, their spouses and children had arrived at the house while he had been talking to his father. When they came down, Ashur looked up from his conversation with Lucius’ wife and Tarquin gave him a nod.

“So, Ashur here said that you live in Minrathous now”, Lucius said as Tarquin and their father joined the rest of the family. “What’s that like?”

“It’s a shithole. It rains all the time and smells like rotten fish.” His answer got some laughter.

“Were you there for the battle?” Arrun, his oldest brother asked.

“Tarquin saved my life”, Ashur said, ignoring the glare Tarquin threw him. “I was thrown by a Blight tentacle against a wall. Tarquin fought it off. How was the situation here in Ventus?”

“We saw our fair share of Darkspawn, and a handful on Antaam”, Arrun replied, “but House Pavus and House Tilvani had recalled the legions to defend the city. Together with the dwarves we managed to keep our losses minimal compared to what we’ve heard from other places.

“Did you see the dragon?” One of the kids asked. Despite quickly made introductions, Tarquin could not remember who belonged to which of his siblings.

“I did. It was big, bigger than the Archon’s palace.”

“Did you fight it?”

“It was a blighted dragon, only Grey Wardens can fight those!” Another of the kids chimed up before Tarquin could say anything.

“And what do you do when you’re not fighting dragons?” Lucius’ wife asked, trying to steer the conversation back to its topic.

“I work in the archives.” Tarquin had been dreading this part of the conversation.

“You’re in administration?” Scaeva, his younger brother asked, disbelievingly. “You’ve got twelve years of service, why aren’t you on patrol or whatever it is templars do?”

“One of us had to follow our mother’s footsteps”, Lucius interjected, then added with a look at Ashur, “Our mother works for the Harbour Administration, that’s why she’s not here yet. The Blight really messed things up for the traders. She’s been doing long hours ever since the eclipse ended.”

“I see”, Ashur replied.

Tarquin was dreading the confrontation with his mother only slightly less than with his father. She had been more accepting back then, in a sort of resigned way as if growing up in the heavily martial and masculine environment had made it inevitable that Tarquin had turned out to be a man as well.

Thankfully the conversation turned from Tarquin’s job to his siblings’. Arrun had followed their father’s footsteps and become first centurion of the legion while Lucius had reached his 25 years and, in his own words, was looking forward to a quiet life of retirement and raising his four children. Scaeva had gotten a field promotion to centurion for his heroics in the battles against the Darkspawn and Antaam and an honourable membership in the Legions of the Dead. Thannia was overseeing the sailmakers and Velia had married well enough to lead a life of leisure, her husband being the head of the navigators guild.

They all had spouses and children of course but none of them asked about his private life or what Ashur was doing here. He wasn’t sure if Thannia and Velia even remembered a time when he hadn’t been their brother.

His mother arrived when the family was about to sit down for dinner. That she was not surprised to see him, told him that Maneas had informed her of his visit. She briefly spoke to his father before gesturing for him to stay behind while the rest of the family and Ashur left.

“I assume your father already lectured you on your prolonged silence and the effect it had on our family.”

“He did”, Tarquin confirmed. “I’m sorry.”

“Is there a reason you came home now?” There was a softness in her voice, the unspoken question whether or not he needed help.

“I was in Minrathous during the whole disaster and told myself I would stop making excuses if I survived.” He had faced Gods and monsters, in comparison facing his family had seemed doable. That and Dorian had told him how much it had helped him to talk things through with his father back when he had been in the South.

“Were you injured?”

“I got lucky”, Tarquin said while shaking his head.

“Good.” His mother took a deep breath. “Your father informed me that you’re involved with a mage.

“Father already expressed his disappointment about that, too”, Tarquin said.

“I don’t understand why you would put yourself through all of this just to end up with a man.” She sighed. “It doesn’t matter. You’re home.”

“I’m not staying.”

“I didn’t think you would. You have your own life in Minrathous now, but if your situation changes, there will always be a place for you, here.”

It was good to hear it even if Tarquin did not want to imagine how bad his situation would have to be that he would return to Ventus.

“Let’s join the others”, his mother said, her hand on his back. “And I want to see that mage of yours. Is it serious?”

“It’s been four years.” Tarquin replied with a shrug. He could hardly tell her truth about Ashur and the enormous trust placed on him.

His mother scoffed. “We’ll talk if it lasts another twenty.”

Dinner was pleasant enough, now that everyone’s curiosity about Tarquin’s life had been satisfied, they turned back to their own lives, sharing stories and anecdotes since they all had their own lives and would not often be together like this.

Strangely enough it was the food that caused the most wistfulness in him. His family could afford a cook and it was completely different to the army rations before or the street food he was eating these days since the room he rented to avoid living in the barracks to have a little bit of privacy did not have a cooking space. He wished he could have this, but not here with the strangers who made up his family but rather in Minrathous with the Shadows Dragons.

Eventually the children started to yawn or fall asleep at the table and he and Ashur said their goodbyes. A few hugs and a promise to write again later, they were out on the streets. Tarquin took a deep breath and felt lighter than he had in years.

“Thanks for coming with me”, he said when he caught Ashur looking at him.

“Always.” They were walking so close that their shoulders were brushing against each other. “How do you feel?”

“I’m glad I came”, Tarqui said after thinking about it. “And I’m happy to leave. Besides, if we had stayed longer, my parents might have tried to pressure you into marrying me.”

Ashur laughed. “Would you want to, if we could?”

Tarquin shook his head. “I don’t need a document to know who I am or who I love.”

In the darkness of the street Ashur took his hand and didn’t let go.