A/N: *Insert disclaimers here* Also, don't read if you don't want game spoilers. That should be obvious.

Dorian had heard rumors about Lord Nathaniel Trevelyan. The man came from a family with strong ties to both the Chantry and the Templars so he was not expecting the man to meet with the mages at Redcliffe, much less follow Felix's note to meet in the Chantry. He also wasn't expecting the man to be so bloody gorgeous. He had given thanks everyday that he had uncovered his father's plot to alter him; he gave extra thanks today.

"Good, you're finally here," he greeted jovially, his persona slipping into place like a mask. Before him stood a group of four, three females and a male making it easy to figure out who was the alleged 'Herald of Andraste'. "Now help me close this," he demanded as the rift spit out another wave of demons.

The battle was over relatively quickly – the Inquisition had evidently sent more seasoned fighters to protect the Herald. He recognized the warrior as Seeker Pentaghast, Right Hand of the Divine and founder of the Inquisition. The rogue was unknown to him, though she was clearly a city elf. Judging by her colorful vocabulary, Dorian suspected they'd be fast friends. And last but not least, a very well poised Madame Vivienne. Orlais' First Enchanter had been much talked about when she first began expanding her duties. Dorian wouldn't be lying if he said Tevinter had hoped that the Iron Lady would take the thrown and raise up the mages. Sadly, that was not the case. All this ran through his head in mere seconds.

"Fascinating," he drawled. "How do you do it? You don't even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and boom, the rift closes!" Few things annoyed Dorian more than someone who did things without question. His annoyance was only reinforced when he realized the man in front of him was decked out in full Templar attire. Andraste preserve me, he thought, resigned to a brief, unproductive meeting. He was pleasantly surprised.

Trevelyan was pleasant. He was polite. He asked questions and his wit kept even Dorian on his toes. By the time they parted ways, Dorian felt as if he would be seeing the Herald again and he was a bit thrown by how much he was looking forward to it.

Redcliffe was...difficult. Being thrown a year into the future and seeing just what was at stake if they failed made their task seem like an even bigger challenge. Seeing Felix like...that and seeing Alexius so downtrodden made Dorian ache in ways his Tevinter upbringing would not allow him to acknowledge. Though Nathaniel seemed able to see right through his bravado, which was disconcerting in and of itself. Still, it was a good opportunity to see what kind of man the Herald was.

The Herald, it turned out, was a very capable man. He was aware of his strengths and weaknesses, knowing full well that he was out of his depth with the magical anomaly. He was open and receptive to Dorian's advice and he did not shy away from the spells Dorian threw during battle, instead trusting the mage to have his back. It was also evident to Dorian that Nathaniel cared deeply for his party, despite only meeting them a short time ago. The anguish in his eyes when they found Leliana and his utmost refusal to let his comrades die told the Vint a great deal about Nathaniel's values. In an instant Dorian decided that no matter how things turned out with the Redcliffe mages, he would be staying with the Inquisition.

Haven was not what he was expecting and neither were the allies. Dorian was not proud to admit that he nearly fled after seeing the huge hulking Qunari in the courtyard. But The Iron Bull seemed content to (mostly) let him be and Dorian was even a bit shocked to learn that his second-in-command, Krem, was from Tevinter as well. Speaking with the man helped ease some of Dorian's homesickness and even Bull relaxed once he saw Dorian making friends with the Chargers. Blackwall, however, was not as friendly, though Dorian was used to getting the stink-eye. Cassandra, surprisingly enough, seemed to accept his presence without reservations. After all, she also knew what it felt like to be an outcast in her family. As for their elven allies, as Dorian predicted, he and Sera were fast friends which seemed to garner immediate disapproval from Solas.

"Don't pay any attention to him," the archer told him. "His head's crammed up a thousand years ago. He doesn't like any elf who isn't 'proper'. Probably dislikes you for a thousand bullshit reasons."

"Don't worry. I'm quite accustomed to being a pariah," he told her breezily, earning a look of admiration from the girl. Still, Dorian was used to knowing the reason behind someone's dislike of him and he couldn't help but wonder what Solas' reason was.

Varric had fast become Dorian's favorite drinking buddy. The dwarf would tell him tales that Dorian could scarcely believe were true while the mage would tell salacious stories from Tevinter. If Varric ever included any of his stories in a new book, Dorian was convinced that half of Tevinter would fall to the gossip. He couldn't wait.

As for Madame Vivienne...Dorian smirked. Talking with Vivienne it was almost as if he never left home. The verbal sparring with Sera was fun, but with Vivienne... The First Enchanter was accustomed to moving in the upper classes like Dorian and her game had an extra edge to it that Sera's was lacking. She also understood his hesitancy when Nathaniel gave the mages their freedom, though Vivienne was against the move while Dorian ultimately supported it. Still, Nathaniel must have been able to use some of his charm on the First Enchanter as Vivienne still seemed to hold him in high regard. Even Dorian had to admire how the young man managed to find himself so well liked by such vastly different people. Dorian had asked him about it once. Nathaniel had laughed and said it was a product of being the youngest child.

"You learn that certain things aren't worth arguing over," he said. "Some people are Andrastian, some aren't; some support the Templars, some support the mages. But if you show up here and are willing to help and don't cause problems? We'd be stupid to turn away allies."

"How very practical of you," Dorian quipped and Nathaniel chuckled.

"Got you to stay, didn't it?" he asked, winking at the other man before taking off to meet with his advisers. And, oh, the advisers...

Dorian so loved how frustrated Josephine got whenever she tried to get him to take something seriously. The more she tried the more determined he became to defy her and the more flustered Josephine got. Dorian quite loved being contrary. He'd noticed the Commander's amusement at Josephine's predicament on more than one occasion, though he refrained from pointing it out. He and Cullen had an uneasy truce going. Dorian didn't need Leliana's secret reports to see that their Commander had suffered at the hands of mages, and while Cullen still distrusted mages, Dorian respected the fact that he was clearly working to keep the Herald's alliance together. And Leliana...the spymaster had snuck into his room one evening to offer her apologies before just as silently disappearing. Dorian had appreciated the sentiment while being thoroughly unsettled by the experience.

Any feelings of discomfort were quickly overshadowed by feelings of pure terror. The hope and joy that Nathaniel had inspired by closing the Breach was quickly burnt to a crisp by Corypheus' archdemon. With Haven destroyed and Nathaniel presumed dead, Dorian buried his grief and helped the healers tend to the wounded. He wasn't as skilled in healing magic but they needed all the help they could get and Dorian was happy to lose himself in the monotony. He wasn't sure how long he'd been at it when a commotion snapped him out of his daze.

"Make way! Clear a path!" Cullen ordered as soldiers carried the Herald to the healers' tent. The camp was quickly filling with whispers, religious fervor sweeping through the undercurrents. Dorian himself couldn't help but be caught up in it. There seemed to be no other logical explanation for Nathaniel's miraculous survival. The whole spontaneous singing was a...quaint touch, though Nathaniel didn't appear impressed by it judging by the way he disappeared afterward. Still, Dorian didn't give it too much thought as he passed out on his bedroll. It had been an extremely long day.

They were up early the next morning, with Nathaniel leading them North. Something must have happened while Dorian slept because the Herald had a new certainty behind his actions. The mage would have loved to ask about it but Trevelyan spent his days scouting ahead of the company and his evenings behind closed tent flaps with his advisers. Dorian resigned himself to days spent trading barbs with Sera and Vivienne and nights assisting the healers and drinking with the Chargers and Varric. So many days passed this way that Dorian was completely unprepared for his sudden company.

"There you are!" the man exclaimed, pleasure clearly evident in his voice and on his face. Dorian paused with his cup halfway to his mouth. He was ashamed to say it took several seconds to process who stood in front of him.

"Well, if it isn't the Herald," he covered smoothly. "And what brings you here?"

"I was worried about you," Nathaniel confessed. "I've seen everyone else since Haven but you've been keeping yourself scarce," he stated, giving the Tevinter a pointed look. Vishante kaffas, Dorian thought as he tried not to choke on his drink.

"Not all of us are eager to scamper ahead. Nor am I interested in your terribly dull war meetings," Dorian stated. "I've much more interesting things to do," he added, taking a timely sip of his drink.

"I know," Nathaniel grinned. "I've seen you with the healers."

"You..." Dorian spluttered. "Vishante kaffas, were you spying on me?" he demanded, his carefully cultivated Tevinter elegance leaving him.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright," Nathaniel told him with a shrug. Dorian blinked.

"I...am fine," he answered, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach. "You should get some rest. We have a long day tomorrow."

Incidentally, they did have a long day. They finally made it to Skyhold. The place was amazing though it clearly needed a lot of work. Dorian would leave that to Cullen and his pets. He, however, quickly found a spot for himself in the library, and that was where the newly appointed Inquisitor found him.

"Brilliant, isn't it?" he asked as he continued perusing the books. "One moment you're trying to restore order in a world gone mad. That should be enough for anyone to handle, yes?" he asked before continuing on. "Then, out of nowhere, an archdemon appears and kicks you in the head. 'What? You thought this would be easy?' 'No, I was just hoping you wouldn't crush our village like an anthill.' 'Sorry about that! Archdemons like to crush you know. Can't be helped.' Am I speaking too quickly for you?" Dorian asked as he finally turned to face the newly appointed Inquisitor.

"You don't need to worry about me, I can keep up." Nathaniel told him with a small chuckle. For the first time since their meeting Dorian stopped to actually look at the man. Nathaniel Trevelyan was solidly built though a few inches shorter than the mage. His black hair was cut close to his head, most likely to make wearing a helmet easier, and he had a five o'clock shadow along his cheeks and around his lips. His eyes were a green-blue color and seemed to have a star-burst effect. He was broad-shouldered, clearly built like a warrior, which explained his preference for fighting with a sword and shield. While Trevelyan had not followed his siblings into the Templars, they clearly had an effect on the man.

"Yes, I noticed that," he finally confessed.

"Did you know?" Trevelyan asked. Humor was evident in his voice and Dorian tried to ignore what that voice did to him.

"Certainly. If you were a slack-jawed yokel, you'd already be dead," Dorian informed him. "I always assumed the 'Elder One' behind the Venatori was a Magister, but this...is something else completely," he continued with a shake of his head. "In Tevinter, they say the Chantry's tales of magisters starting the Blight are just that: tales. But here we are. One of those very magisters – a darkspawn." Dorian couldn't even wrap his head around how badly that bothered him.

"Who does the Imperium say started the Blight?" Nathaniel asked, bringing the other man back to the present.

"You know how it is. 'Not us'. They say darkspawn were always there; magisters and the Blight aren't even related. Is that a surprise?" Dorian asked. "No one wants to admit they shit the bed. But if Corypheus is one of the magisters who entered the Black City and he's darkspawn...what other explanation is there?" he asked tiredly.

"We only know what Corypheus claims to be," Nathaniel pointed out.

"True," Dorian conceded. "He might be a convincing liar. Or delusional. Or insane. But how many delusional maniacs are going to have that knowledge? He broke open the fade," Dorian stated, stressing his last point. "I knew what I was taught couldn't be the whole truth but I assumed there had to be a kernel of it. Somewhere. But no, it was us all along. We destroyed the world." he said sadly. The full impact of this realization didn't hit him until the moment the words left his mouth. Andraste but the Imperium had a lot to answer for.

"You didn't do anything," Nathaniel argued. "Those men did. A thousand years ago."

"True, except that one of them is up and walking around right now. Not to mention I have idiot countrymen who would happily follow him down that path again," he sighed. "No one will thank me, whatever happens. No one will thank you either. You know that, yes?" he asked.

"That's not why I'm doing this," the other man informed him.

"I knew there was something clever about you," Dorian stated. "All I know is this: Corypheus needs to be stopped. Men like him ruined my homeland. I won't stand by and let him ruin the world." As he headed back to his room, he paused for a moment and quickly spun back around to face the Inquisitor. "Oh, and congratulations on that whole leading the Inquisition thing, by the way." He left before Nathaniel could respond. He told himself it was because he had things to do. He hated the fact that he was clearly lying to himself about it.

~Review~