Because of his experiences in the south, Dorian had a better understanding of slavery and not just from the Tevene perspective, much more of an understanding than all that time before at the very beginning of their journeys - the Inquisitor was to thank for that, and the rest of the companions who had enlightened him in their own ways; some had misjudged him, yes, but others he had misjudged as well. There were lessons to be learned, about one another, that he wouldn't ever forget.
All the slaves he inherited from his father, after the man was killed - after everything that had happened, that they'd all been through together, there wasn't any way he would keep them as slaves.
"And I you, amatus," he said, velvety smooth, with quiet conviction. "Come here. I promise I won't spoil anything more, about the future." There wasn't much left anyway - most of it had already been said, and some of it he couldn't predict. Would he end up slayed for his beliefs? For wishing for slaves to be uplifted to true citizens, for all citizens to reach their true potential? For wanting to eradicate corruption in the use of magic, a gift from the Maker?
It had happened before. Not every Magister reached their position of power because they played fairly, or had best interests in mind. But he wouldn't think of that now.
He reached for Lavellan, drawing him closer to kiss him. It felt so natural, like previous kisses and previous moments shared between them stacked together to build a lifetime of feelings. It was hard, honest, truthful, passionate - in case there was ever any doubt that his amatus had been his main inspiration and strength.