A/N: The Inquisitor is left unnamed / uncharacterized to fit any race.
"Dorian?"
"Ah! A sight for sore eyes."
"May I have a word with you? In private." The Herald of Andraste requested.
"Just- a word? Pity. Private sound palatable though. Away from the prejudicious prying eyes. Lead the way." Dorian gestured elegantly with a charming smile.
"A good start to what I have in mind then." The Inquisitor obliged by heading upstairs- where Leliana spent most of her time- and through the door that lead to the wall-walk.
"And what is that? Pray tell." Dorian inquired with a quirk of an eyebrow and a hint of curiosity.
"Well, I've been meaning to ask you." The Inquisitor began once both were outside and the door was closed, "How is Skyhold treating you so far?"
"Hmm- still worried about Mother Giselle's incident I see." Dorian sighed while placing his forearms on the cold parapet, looking at the courtyard vibrant with members of the inquisition. "Or perhaps about the fact that everyone is wary of the evil Tevinter lurking in the shadows of the library?"
"More like jealous for courting the most handsome fellow in all of Thedas." The Herald retaliated with a smug look.
"And whom of the two are we talking about?" Dorian stared at the brunet in unmasked fascination.
"But of course, you." The Inquisitor replied with a smirk, "Or was there any doubt?"
"No doubt." Dorian replied with a satisfied smile, savoring the flattery, "But, you on the other hand. Definitely a potential rival."
"Hah! A rival you say?" The Inquisitor scoffed, "In what, a losing battle?"
"The things you say, Amatus." Dorian chuckled at his lover wittiness.
"So..." The Inquisitor trailed off with hesitation, dreading what might follow his next question, "Not homesick anymore I hope?"
For a split of a second Dorian froze as he chocked for words, "I..." Not knowing what to say, his green eyes looked away.
This was what the Inquisitor had dreaded most; the broken look on Dorian's face. The look he had when he wondered about their relationship.
"Dorian... I'm-"
"No. Don't. What about you, hm?" Dorian exclaimed with a hint of anger in his voice, "We all chose to be here, but you. Though no one really forces you, you feel obligated. Responsible. Like all of Thedas's fate rests on your shoulders. Alone. And no thanks to that cursed mark. Doesn't that- all of this- make you homesick?"
"Honestly?" The Inquisitor placed a hand over Dorian's cheek, gently caressing it with the pad of his thumb, "If you have asked me the time we met I would've said yes. But now... not even the slightest."
Seeing how confused Dorian was, the Inquisitor added, "It's just that I realised that home is where the people you care about the most."
Dorian Pavus was a man used to wittiness, vulgarity, aggressiveness- simply put, almost to anything. But when it came to such a display of affection, never. Needless to say, a surge of tingling sensation invaded the mage's cheeks, forcing him to look down as he cursed under his breath, "Kaffas..."
"Dorian?" The Inquisitor called anxiously, not sure what he did wrong. With one curled finger placed under Dorian's chin, he gave him an encouraging nudge to urge the mage to look at him. "Makers…" The Inquisitor whispered as soon as Dorian's eye's met with his.
"I don't like the cause of your staring." Dorian frowned.
The mage looked awkwardly adorable: a rosy tint spread across his cheeks and up to his ears, eyebrows knitted forming delicate lines over his forehead, and mouth slightly pursed in annoyance. The Herald of Andraste couldn't help but pull the man he much adored into hug.
"You are squashing me you sack of tackiness." Dorian mumbled into the Herald's shoulder.
"Only for you."
A/N: Hope you enjoyed this, and don't forget to leave a review or even a request for the coming chapters!