Once they had returned to Skyhold, Elden was regretfully whisked away to give his usual report to the advisors. Before leaving, however, he did ask Dorian to meet him in his quarters. Dorian was, of course, more than happy to comply. He'd barely managed to clean up and change by the time Elden returned. Elden had also changed out of his armor and Dorian was relieved that he didn't seem to have any new injuries.
"And we're back, safe and sound," Dorian said, unsure why he was suddenly feeling so hesitant. Perhaps it was seeing how desperately Elden had fought for him, how frantic he had looked at the possibility of losing him. No one had ever looked at Dorian that way before.
"I almost lost you," Elden said, looking so overwhelmed, like he had no idea what to do with himself. It was rather adorable.
Dorian decided to take pity on him and moved closer, resting his hands on Elden's hips. At least with this he was on firmer ground. "But you didn't."
Elden brought his hands up to frame Dorian's face, thumbs stroking over cheekbones. "Are you really all right?" he asked, peering into his eyes as if searching for any sign of discomfort.
"Completely," Dorian replied with a smile. His general aches and pains were inconsequential and he ignored the headache that still lurked in the back of his skull. It was nothing time and a little rest wouldn't heal. More important was reassuring Elden, making him smile again.
"Thank the Maker," Elden breathed as he kissed him.
Elden was so gentle, the kiss so tender and yet it still managed to take Dorian's breath away. He wanted to keep kissing him and never stop but instead pulled away. He wasn't even sure why he was doing it. Perhaps it was to look into Elden's eyes, so green and beautiful and Dorian couldn't help but smile fondly even as the depths of emotion he saw there nearly overwhelmed him. His headache throbbed but he ignored it.
Suddenly Elden's expression twisted into one of pain and confusion and he slumped forward, grasping at Dorian as if he couldn't hold himself up any longer. Dorian caught him reflexively, unsure what was happening as he lowered him to the floor as gently as he could, feeling a numb terror like a weight in the pit of his stomach. Elden was looking up at him, his mouth working as if he was trying to speak, but no words came. Dorian's hand felt oddly warm and he looked down to see it covered in blood, gripping a dagger that was buried in Elden's side.
"No," Dorian whispered, his sluggish mind refusing to accept the horror of what he was seeing but knowing he had to, his chest feeling so tight he thought it might split open. Finally, it all caught up to him and he began shouting in a panic. "Someone help! Please!" As if someone could stop this from happening. As if this could ever be undone. He tried to brush the hair from Elden's eyes, leaving a smear of blood across his temple and Dorian felt like he was falling. This can't be real, please don't let it be real. "Please," he whispered as he leaned over Elden as if he could shield him from what had already happened, "please don't-"
His voice hitched and there were no words left and he just clung to Elden, pressing down hard, trying to stop the bleeding, but there was just so much blood. No matter what he did it just kept flowing. He was never any good at spirit magic and healing but he called on all of his knowledge and ability and poured whatever magic he had left into Elden. He still felt empty and drained from his earlier casting but he'd pour his very life into it if he could. He cursed himself and every time he had skipped or dropped out of a class because no matter how powerful he was, how smart he was, none of it mattered if he lost the only person that mattered. He couldn't-
He heard the footsteps of Inquisition soldiers on the stairs, but it was all too late to stop this nightmare. Elden reached up and took hold of his wrist, something like understanding and peace in his eyes, and, Maker, was he trying to comfort him? Dorian wanted to scream and bring the entirety of Skyhold down around him and it still wouldn't be enough, nothing would ever be enough again after what he had done.
Suddenly there were people all around and they were taking Elden from him. Dorian was forced to step away, still grasping Elden's hand until he slipped completely out of his reach. Dorian stood but his legs refused to cooperate. He staggered back, leaning heavily against the wall, gripping his left wrist, the one that had held the dagger, as if it didn't belong to him anymore, just standing there watching the blood drip to the floor as they took Elden away from him.
He was transfixed by a particularly large drop of Elden's blood as he watched it slip down to his fingertip. The sound of the chaos around him died away as he watched, just trying desperately to remember what had happened. He cared for Elden so much, he had never wanted to harm him, so how had any of this happened? He couldn't even remember drawing the dagger, let alone even wanting to.
Of course, his intent hardly mattered now with Elden's blood on his hands. This was always how it went, wasn't it? Perhaps not exactly but if Dorian was good at anything it was fucking everything up. Things had been going far too well between the two of them and they couldn't have that, now could they? Had he truly thought that he could have this? That he could find happiness and—and affection? That Elden could truly care for him and they could be happy like some sort of fairy tale? That Elden would want him after even if they survived Corypheus?
Of course not, Dorian realized as the drop finally fell, splattering onto the stone floor below. He ruined everything he touched. He didn't deserve happiness and he certainly didn't deserve Elden. He should have known this was always going to be how it ended. He could only hurt the ones he cared about and he should have spared Elden this. He should have done so much more. But that was all selfish as well, wasn't? He wanted to comfort Elden for himself, to have him for himself. Dorian should have just kept away, he never should have come south. He was like a disease, corrupting and destroying everything in his path. Elden was good and kind and he had never wanted to hurt him. Maker, what had he done?
"Dorian." Leliana's voice was much colder than Dorian had ever heard it and he flinched, snapped out of his reverie.
"Tell us what happened," Josephine said much more gently from where she stood behind Leliana.
"Where is he?" Dorian asked, not taking his eyes away from his hand. "I want to see him."
"We need to know what happened first," Cullen said. "Was there someone else here?"
"Of course there was no one else here," Leliana snapped. She held up the dagger so Dorian could see it and he thought he might be violently ill. Somehow he held himself together. "Where did you get this?"
"I don't know," Dorian said rather numbly.
"You don't know?" Leliana said, voice dangerous.
"Yes, repeating everything I say in a skeptical tone will definitely help the situation," Dorian snapped, finally meeting their eyes as he let the fury take hold. It was easier. "Shouldn't you be out there doing your job? Actually protecting the Inquisitor?"
Leliana grabbed him by the collar and slammed him back against the wall. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now?"
There was no answer to that. Of course she should kill him. Why wouldn't she just get it over with? She was wasting time, just help Elden please.
"Please, Leliana. It's Dorian," Josephine said, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"He's Tevinter," Leliana replied, not taking her eyes off him, as if studying his reaction. "We never should have trusted him."
"Elden did," Cullen pointed out.
"And look where that got him," she said, shoving Dorian back against the wall again as she released him. "Get him out of my sight."
Dorian was all but dragged away. He was vaguely surprised when they took him to his quarters, but he didn't dwell on that. Instead he pulled himself free from his guards and went inside with as much dignity as he could muster, slamming the door shut behind him.
Once alone, he went immediately to the wash basin. He scrubbed violently at his hands; the blood, Elden's blood, felt like it was staining him, branding him to the bone, and he doubted he'd ever truly be clean of it. He tried not to think, he didn't want to remember the feel of it, warm as it dripped over his fingers, slippery around the hilt of the dagger, or the way it flowed through his fingers as he pressed his hands over the wound. He didn't want to think about the way Elden had looked at him, so confused and in pain but his eyes were soft, still trying to comfort him in the end-
Dorian knocked the basin off of the table, sending the crimson-stained water spilling across the floor, just wanting everything to stop. He dug his hands into his hair, pulling until his scalp ached, knowing he deserved far worse. Looking down he saw that there was blood splattered across his robes and he ripped them off, casting them into the fire without a second thought. He knocked his desk over in a rage before pulling the dresser down and as it crashed against the floor, he broke as well. All of his rage dissipated and he collapsed to the ground, curling in on himself as he sobbed, left with nothing but the image of Elden holding his hand with whatever strength he had left. This couldn't be happening. Maker, how could this be happening?