"She needs you," whispers in Dorian's ears turned his head, but he couldn't remember who was speaking to him. "She needs you now." Something was wrong, but what? "Go." Before he knew where he was going, Dorian was rushing down the stairs, past Solas, into the main hall, towards the door leading to the Inquisitor's tower. They had just returned from Adamant, surely after such a harsh battle she would want her rest? "No, she needs you now. Right now. You have to hurry." Before he knew what he was doing, he was running.
"Why are there so many stairs," Dorian was huffing by the time he reached the top. He raised his hand at the closed door, but stopped, "don't knock, just go in." He felt a slight push on his back. He flung open the door and rushed up the final few stairs, panic rising in his throat. There she was, out on her balcony, but she was leaning on the railing, her shoulders shaking, her knuckles white from gripping the edge so hard. "She needs you NOW." Dorian crossed the room in a few bounds and pulled the elven woman into his arms. She sobbed against his chest, her shrieks of agony muffled by his clothing. He rested his cheek on her hair and held her tight, overcome by emotion.
Her body shook, she gripped his shirt with tight fists and bawled into his shoulder. "Dorian" she sobbed; he kept one arm around her while the other stroked her messy hair. "There now," his own voice wavered. "What's got you all in a fuss?" She couldn't form words, and he didn't push her. He just held her and let her fall apart. After all, she was the Inquisitor. When else would she get the chance? She had faced her worst fears at Adamant and had to act like it didn't bother her in the slightest. How had he not seen it before? She was so pale when she had come out of the rift. She hadn't wanted to talk to anyone when they returned to Skyhold. She had so much weight on her shoulders and she had to carry it all on her own.
"I'm here now," the only friend he had was suffering, and he felt so helpless, but at the same time, he was so relieved. He was there. He was holding her in his arms, she trusted him, he was as much her friend as she was his. She was going to be okay. She nodded into his shoulder, holding him as tight as she could. "Dorian," she mumbled into his shirt, "it was awful, there were so many, I had to leave him behind, I GAVE him to that DEMON and I could do NOTHING!" Her legs gave out and he sank to the stone of the balcony with her, rocking her back and forth slowly. He tried to think of something to say, but sometimes people don't want solutions or words of comfort or for anyone to lift the blame, they just want someone to listen. "I know," he murmured, smoothing her hair away from her face. He took a moment to look through the doorway at the room. She had thrown a vase at the wall; shattered glass was everywhere. He'd have to make sure no one stepped on it.
"Dorian," She looked up at him. Her face was red and puffy; she was an absolute mess. "Don't go anywhere, okay?" He smiled at her, "it's going to be alright, I'm right here. We're best friends, aren't we? I could never go anywhere." She smiled, sniffling and wiping her nose on her sleeve. She leaned on him, clearly quite exhausted. He didn't blame her, he'd be tired too. "I'll tell you what," he began, pulling a cloth from his pocket and giving it to her to wipe her face with. "Why don't you take a nap, I'll clean up the glass in here, go out and find some wine, and I'll bring you dinner and we'll just eat up here and not worry about anyone else for a while, okay?" She nodded, hugging him tightly. "You're the best." He held her close for a long moment, overcome with emotion. "Anything for a friend."