Work Text:
As an adult Issala doesn't remember his mother, but he dreams of her sometimes.
In the dream she smiles—it's morning and Issala has just sat down for breakfast. She hums a tune while cooking and then sits down to watch while he eats.
This, he knows, is just a dream and never happened. His mother didn't cook, and for as long as he can remember the only people who ever sang to him have been Bull and Dorian. Bull's lullabies in Qunlat: Kosslun's teachings, Issala learns years later, sang to Qunari tunes with melodies unlike any other, Bull's voice low and rumbling. Dorian's voice is completely different: his voice has a soothing timbre and he always sings so quiet almost as if afraid of someone else hearing it. Dorian's songs are mostly in Tevene, sometimes in Common and they are more traditional lullabies about cradles and babies.
Issala is about five when he becomes curious about families. As his own memories of Ash fade he wants to know more about Bull's and Dorian's mothers. Bull tells him about the Qun and his tamassran, about the woman who brought him up and her gentle and wise ways. The songs he sang to Issala were the ones his tama had sang to him and the other children in her nursery, and Bull tells him about her endless patience, and they sat outside in the shade of the big tree for their lessons. For a while Issala is obsessed about the Qun and while Dorian stiffens and hovers without saying a word, Bull answers all his questions and tells him to make up his own mind.
When he’s six, Issala meets Aquinea for the first time, and afterwards he has great difficulties imagining this cold woman singing to Dorian, or to anyone really. When Issala asks, Dorian tells him that he had learned his songs from his elven nanny and it makes more sense to Issala that way. Bull says Issala is good at reading body language and that's how he knows that the way Aquinea (not grandmother, Dorian has stressed) sits on the couch, stiff both in body and smile, means she doesn't want to be there. He has been told these are things he should not say aloud though, so he saves his questions for later, for when Bull is putting him to bed.
"Why did Aquinea come if she didn't want to?" Issala asks when he's settled down and the light has been switched off but Bull is still sitting with him in the darkness.
"She wanted to come," Bull says. "You interpreted the reluctance correctly, just not the target. The way she held her body…"
"Oh," Issala says and thinks back on the meeting.
Yes, Bull was right, she hadn't been completely reluctant, the way she held her body—
"She wanted to see Dorian," Issala says slowly and he can hear Bull chuckle in the darkness.
"Good. That she did," Bull says.
The way Aquinea's body was always turned towards Dorian, sometimes even starting to reach for him but always stopping herself.
"She had to come because he hasn't gone to see her," Issala says. "Because of us."
"Yes, indirectly," Bull says. "Not because we wouldn't let him go, but because he didn't want to go anywhere we weren't welcome too. You understand that, right?"
"Like at school," Issala says. "Not everyone wants to play with me because I'm Vasoth."
"That's right," Bull says. And then, after a pause: "That's one part of it."
Issala tries to think very hard but can't think of another reason. But that can wait for another time, he wants to talk about Aquinea now.
"But she came anyway," Issala says. "She wanted to see Dorian, but she didn't want to see us."
"Eh," Bull shrugs. "She was given a choice, and she chose to tolerate us. For his sake."
Issala is silent again, he's silent for so long Bull is already getting up.
"Dorian wanted to see her too," Issala says, and Bull settles back down. "He was—" Issala thinks back the way Dorian had acted in the weeks and days and hours before the meeting. "He was nervous but he had missed her, I think."
"Mhm," Bull says and Issala can see him nod a little in the darkness. "He loves her despite everything, a child can't help but love their mother."
It's a subject they have talked about in the past, regarding Issala and Ash, and the things he knows she had done. As far as Issala knows, Aquinea has never risen to that level, though he knows she has attempted more mundane ways of manipulating Dorian, even today.
"Do you think she'll visit us again?" Issala asks. "And Halward? You think he will come?"
Bull is quiet for a moment. "I think she will," he says finally. "Him? Not so sure."
Turns out Bull is right. Halward never does visit, but Aquinea comes, once a year, and twice after Halward's death.
The visits become easier in time, and she doesn't try to ignore Issala anymore, even if her mouth still draws tight when Bull talks to her. Issala is 13 when she sits down with him for the first time. He's working on his translation of Dominus Anulorum to common and frowning deeply.
"Let me see," Aquinea says and Issala shows her both the original text and his translation.
She nods a little, squinting, and Issala suspects vanity prevents her from using her reading glasses he knows she keeps in her purse.
"Shall I read what I have translated so far?" Issala offers.
He reads the original paragraph first, and then his translation, pausing at the final words because saying them aloud he knows they're not quite right. She shakes her head curtly.
"No, no, that's wrong," she says. "It should be—"
Dorian finds them ten minutes later, wrapped up with finer points of Tevene verb conjugation and grammar.
But it isn't until Issala is accepted to study at the University of Orlais, majoring in Tevene, when Aquinea invites him to call her avia. Dorian breaks down later that evening after she has left, tears wetting Bull's shirt and shoulders shaking uncontrollably even though he's almost silent. Issala has enough sense to leave the two of them alone with it—he's long ago accepted Aquinea's issues with willingly showing emotions and how her son unwittingly mirrors her. He's been able to read her quite easily since he was a child and knows that even though Bull hasn't quite been accepted into the family—and likely never will be—Issala himself has been the grandson in everything but name for some time already.
Even though he skypes with his fathers during his time in university, his grandmother wants traditional correspondence by letters. Her handwriting is beautiful old fashioned script in straight lines and her stationery expensive, and Issala writes her long letters in the middle of the night after schoolwork is done.
It's the change in her writing that he notices first. The letter arrives on time, he knows the intervals by heart by now: two days for his letter to arrive, another three for her reply to come back—but this time even his name on the envelope looks wrong. Instead of the neat lines the text droops and spacing of the words are uneven—Issala doesn't wait another moment but books the next available flight to Qarinus.
He wishes the first time seeing the Pavus estate and it's rolling hills would be at a more peaceful time when Issala could enjoy the sight as it rightfully should be enjoyed, but as it is he peers at it from the taxi window hoping the driver could go faster. The housekeeper looks quite dismayed seeing the large qunari at the doorstep, but lets him in, maybe even slightly relieved as Issala inquires after Aquinea's health.
"She's had a cold," the housekeeper, an immaculately groomed elderly elf, says as she leads Issala through the sprawling mansion. She hesitates, looking up at him and he knows it's probably the first time she's even seen a qunari in person. "She says she's had a cold," she corrects herself. "And has stayed in bed for a week. But—pardon me ser, I think something is wrong."
Issala can see it the second he enters Aquinea's bedroom, the way she struggles to sit upright, how clumsy her hand is when she tries to arrange her hair neatly.
"Issala!" she gasps. "What is the meaning of this? I told Eva I'm not seeing anyone."
But she's reaching her hands to him and he takes them, squeezing them gently as he kneels by her bedside.
"Avia," he says softly, kissing her forehead. The gesture makes her stiffen but Issala knows it's mostly because the housekeeper is still there, hovering at the door, no doubt staring at this strange sight. "Don't blame her. She couldn't have stopped me even if she wanted."
He pulls back and looks at her, frowning a touch. Her usually tanned skin looks waxy and Issala can see her pulse on her neck, rapid as a bird's.
"Avia, I've come to take you to see a doctor," he says, keeping his voice calm. "I think you've had a stroke, and I think you know this."
"Nonsense," Aquinea scoffs, finally pulling her hands away but even with the gentle grasp Issala has on them, she's not able to free her right hand. "It's just a cold. You're missing your lectures."
He takes no objections from her and carries her to the car Eva calls to the front. She doesn't resist then, and weighs almost nothing in his arms. She looks even smaller, hooked up to the machines in the hospital and Issala sits with her patiently as doctors come and read the monitors. After they finally confirm the stroke five days earlier, Issala excuses himself and calls Dorian from the lobby.
When Dorian arrives some hours later, he finds his mother and Issala both asleep, still holding hands.
Although having a qunari sit at Aquinea Thalrassian's bedside is quite the scandal and Issala can see it plainly written on both hers and Dorian's faces, it doesn't also escape him that Aquinea takes some pleasure in seeing the doctors step back when Issala stands up to his full height. Her money gets her the best private room and the best doctors, but Issala's presence makes them move faster than any gold she could pay them. Initially they talk about him in front of him thinking he won't understand, but it stops quickly when he replies them in kind with his flawless accentless Tevene. Dorian, watching, doesn't try to hide his grin.
Issala finds that being the grandson gives him liberties the real son doesn't get, and it's clearer now than ever. Whereas Dorian and Aquinea rarely touch beyond a customary peck on the cheek when parting, Issala is allowed to hold her hand and even kiss her. Those gestures come naturally to him, in his family touching to show affection is normal and he doesn't shy away from it now. He's there helping her take her first steps two days later while Dorian hovers, supporting her meager weight with one hand and she holds her head up high and pretends she doesn't need it.
"I'm glad she has you," Dorian says later when they've left the hospital and are having dinner in a small but quite expensive restaurant nearby.
He puts aside his menu and smiles at Issala. Issala fills the small room and is aware of the covert stares, but they seem to fall off Dorian like water from a duck's back because his father takes Issala's hand and squeezes it.
"She has you too," Issala says. "I'll have to return to the university for my exams soon but you'll stay with her, won't you?"
"Ah, you know it's not the same," Dorian says waving his hand. "She's never looked at me like she looks at you. My father would simply die of embarrassment if he wasn't dead already."
"Still," Issala says. "Maybe it's not too late. At least I'll sleep better knowing you're here. Is Bull coming?"
"No," Dorian says, looking away. "We decided Qarinus probably wouldn't be able to handle more than one qunari at a time anyway. And his business is good."
"Send him my love when you talk to him," Issala says. "Now tell me what's happening in Kirkwall."
He says his goodbyes to Aquinea two days later and goes back to his studies and his exams.
A week later their correspondence continues.