A/N: *insert usual disclaimers here* Hope you all enjoy!
It soon became evident to Dorian that Nathaniel had a favorite traveling group. This group was comprised of Blackwall, Sera and Dorian himself. While he certainly wasn't adverse to traveling all over the Southern half of Thedas, it did put a crimp in his plans i.e. ignore his attraction to the Inquisitor, have minimal interaction and fade away after Corypheus was defeated. Still, at least he had Sera with him. She got along with Dorian and Blackwall, which made things a bit better between the mage and the warden. And good companions certainly helped when they were slogging through the muck of Crestwood while battling hordes of the undead.
"Ugh," he sighed, wrinkling his nose in distaste as another corpse fell to the ground.
"They're so squishy!" Sera exclaimed in disgust. After the first few corpses, the elf had positively refused to reclaim any arrows from the dead bodies.
"Hopefully we'll put an end to this once we close the rift in the lake," Nathaniel chimed in as he sheathed his sword. "Let's stop in the village. Maybe someone there knows how to drain the lake."
"There's a lake like this one near my family's estates," Dorian commented absentmindedly. "Fewer demons," he added. Sera snorted while Nathaniel tossed a grin over his shoulder. Blackwall did as he typically did – ignored the mage.
"So you and the Inquisitor, eh?" Sera asked with a cackle and a nudge to his shoulder. Dorian sighed.
"There is nothing going on, Sera," Dorian informed her.
"Not yet, at any rate. But there will be," she assured him. "Trust me, I know people." The mage sighed but let the matter drop. He wasn't going to argue about his chance at a relationship with the Inquisitor in front of the Inquisitor. Or worse, Blackwall. Perish the thought.
Besides, he thought, just because Nathaniel is showing interest doesn't mean he's looking for a relationship. Dorian had experienced enough disappointing one night stands to be aware of this. And he wasn't fully decided on what he wanted himself, thus why he had fallen back on the old "repress" habit. But if Sera was right...Dorian prayed but even he didn't know if he wanted her to be right or wrong.
The fight at Caer Bronach did a wonderful job of distracting him from his conflicting emotions. Once the fortress was clear of thieves, it seemed only natural to clear out the caves as well. At least, that was Nathaniel's reasoning. Dorian had a different feeling on the matter.
"Just once, we should enter a cave and see normal-sized spiders," he groused as spiders began descending from the ceiling.
"I'm going to name her Snowball," Sera announced.
"We're not keeping it as a pet!" Nathaniel informed her as 'Snowball' spat poison at the group. Dorian managed to raise a barrier in time as Nathaniel and Blackwall charged at the arachnids.
"Bad Snowball!" Sera shouted as she readied an arrow and joined the fray. When the last of the spiders was dead and the four companions caught their breath, Dorian began chuckling. "What's so funny?" Sera asked but the mage couldn't respond and just laughed harder. Eventually, all four companions wound up in hysterics, laughing until tears streamed down their face while they stood ankle deep in stagnant water surrounded by arachnid corpses. They finally calmed down and even managed to drain the lake before Nathaniel announced they would be stopping for the night.
Since the majority of the rooms at Caer Bronach had been given to the Crestwood villagers, the party set up tents in the upper courtyard. Sera had called dibs on bunking with Dorian which suited the Tevinter just fine. While the rest of the party was eager to explore their new holdings in more depth, Dorian excused himself, content to huddle into the warmth provided by the tent and his bedroll and began reading one of the research books Vivienne and Solas had sent. The text was written in old Tevene and while Solas could have deciphered the text if given enough time, time was not their friend. Dorian quickly became engrossed in the text, jotting down the occasional note for his allies to follow up on. His concentration was broken when he felt a warm blanket being dropped across his shoulders.
"Sera said you were shivering," Nathaniel explained as he moved to take a seat.
"I wasn't," Dorian immediately argued, hating how the other man always seemed to catch him off guard. It left him feeling off-balance and occasionally giving up personal information that he was not ready to divulge.
"Were too," Sera argued, sticking her head back inside the tent. "You were too wrapped up in your book to be arsed." Dorian sighed and closed his book.
"Thank you," he told both.
"Wasn't so hard, was it?" she asked with a cheeky grin before ducking back outside. Dorian wrapped the blanket more tightly around himself and turned to face the Inquisitor. He found the man already watching him with a soft smile and Dorian looked away and cleared his throat.
"I am appreciative of the extra blanket, Inquisitor," he began.
"Nathaniel," Trevelyan interrupted. Dorian paused a moment to consider the request.
"Nathaniel, then," he amended. "I am not quite accustomed to your Southern temperatures."
"I wasn't aware that the Imperium was so much warmer than Fereldan," Nathaniel confessed. "You could have said something. We could have found you heavier armor. Or – " Dorian waived away the other man's concerns.
"My discomfort is trifling compared to what needs to be accomplished. If we come across warmer armor, splendid, but I will not go out of the way to find it. Our resources are precious few and can be spent on better things." He told Nathaniel. The Inquisitor frowned but seemed to concede Dorian's point. A comfortable silence fell and Dorian turned back to his book.
"Why were you laughing in the caves?" Nathaniel asked after some time had passed.
"Oh, that," Dorian chuckled. "My family does not approve of my life choices – one of the reasons I left Tevinter in the first place. I just thought how utterly furious my mother and father would be if they saw me in that moment. The scandal I would cause…" he laughed again.
"You don't get along with your family?" Trevelyan questioned, his head tilting slightly to the side.
"Ah, no." Dorian confessed, cursing silently. He had not meant to share that information. "I don't agree with their choices nor they with mine. Thus it's better that I'm far from home." He paused, contemplating a thought that he'd been mulling over since Redcliffe. "Why did you ally with the mages?" he asked.
"Ah," Nathaniel sighed. "To be perfectly honest, I never agreed with my siblings' thoughts on the Templar Order. It was a point of contention between us for a long time. They felt Templars were justified in their use of force and the rite of tranquility. I disagreed. My parents decided it would be best not to send me to training and so I escaped following in my family's footsteps." He explained.
"Did your siblings…" Dorian trailed off, unsure how to finish the question.
"I haven't heard from them since Redcliffe." He answered. "My parents only wrote to inform me that they were displeased with my choice of allies. But I hope…" Nathaniel cut off with a shaky sigh and Dorian realized that the other man was trying not to cry.
"We all hope," he assured the Inquisitor, placing a steadying hand on the other man's shoulder. He was rewarded with a wan smile and it struck Dorian how similar he and the Inquisitor were. Both had turned their backs on what had been expected of them and were thus outcasts in their own families.
"Thank you, Dorian," Trevelyna stated, pulling Dorian's concentration back to their conversation. "I should let you get back to your research," he continued as he reluctantly stood up to leave. It bothered Dorian how much he wanted Nathaniel to stay.
"It's not pressing," he informed the Inquisitor. "If you have other things you want to discuss." Nathaniel gave him a small, relieved smile and sat back down.
"Thank you," he said softly. "I have a lot on my mind and while Blackwall is a good man, I sometimes think he can't see past my titles," he confessed with a shake of his head.
"You're not a believer, then?" Dorian asked. He was honestly a bit surprised. He half-believed all humans in the South were Andrastian.
"I believe in Andraste," Nathaniel clarified. "I don't believe she saved me at the Conclave. I don't believe I'm 'the Chosen One'. I'm not sure…" he trailed off as he hung his head, gripping it between both hands. "I'm not sure I believe I can save everyone," he whispered. Dorian felt a pang of pity for the man sitting across from him. He was clearly under a great deal of stress and evidently had not felt that he could confide in anyone about this. Dorian wasn't sure why Nathaniel felt comfortable approaching him but he would do his best to give him the support he needed.
"Doubt is good," he told the man. "I like doubt. It will keep you sane. Me, I've seen too much to believe I know everything. The world is bigger than I, even bigger than you. It laughs at the things we think we know."
"Do you consider yourself Andrastian?" Nathaniel asked, lifting his head to look Dorian in the eye.
"Ah, the big question. It might surprise you that I do consider myself Andrastian. The Maker doesn't need me to believe, but I do. The thought of no one watching out for us is too frightening. But while I believe in the Maker, I do not believe in the Chantry." At Nathaniel's look of confusion, Dorian explained. "It is a relic, whether back home or here in the South. Something from a bygone age desperately clinging to relevance. It's not an opinion that makes me popular," he confessed.
"I share your opinion, actually," Nathaniel confessed. He moved a bit closer to the mage as the light from outside began fading.
"That's not surprising, considering what the Inquisition represents. I'll say this: I may not believe in the Chantry, but I believe in you," Dorian stated. Silence fell as the weight of his words sunk in and Dorian fought not to fidget beneath Nathaniel's indecipherable gaze.
"Dorian…" the warrior began but seemed to change his mind. "We should turn in," he stated. Dorian squashed down his disappointment. "Sleep well," was Nathaniel's farewell as he ducked out of the tent. He was back a few moments later looking somewhat bashful. Dorian couldn't help himself.
"Sleep well?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. He couldn't believe his eyes when the Inquisitor actually blushed.
"It seems Sera and Blackwall fell asleep in the other tent while we were talking." Nathaniel informed him. Dorian cursed in his head. While Blackwall might have actually been asleep, the mage was convinced that Sera was faking it – purposely forcing Nathaniel to sleep in the same tent as the Tevinter.
"Well, I suggest you make yourself comfortable in Sera's bedroll, Inquisitor," Dorian told him airily.
"Nathaniel," he corrected automatically. "I'd prefer if you used my given name." Dorian sighed.
"Nathaniel, go to sleep," he ordered. As both men settled into their beds, an uncomfortable silence fell between them. It seemed that both were hyper-aware of the other and every little sound they made seemed louder than it actually was. Dorian was unsure how long they both laid there before sleep finally claimed them.
The next morning found Sera grinning at him over their breakfasts. Dorian rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what the elf was thinking. As the group headed back towards the now-drained lake, Sera made sure that she and the mage lagged behind Nathaniel and Blackwall.
"Sleep well?" she asked with a nudge.
"Nothing happened, Sera," Dorian told her, rolling his eyes for the second time that morning.
"What, nothing at all?" she asked, shock evident in her voice. The mage couldn't help but chuckle at the rogue.
"We talked," he clarified. "Just talked."
"About your feelings?" Sera clarified. Her nose wrinkled on the word "feelings".
"No, about other things." Dorian told her. "And I'll thank you to stay out of my relationship with the Inquisitor. I don't know how you handle your relationships but it's become clear that we handle them differently," he added.
"Yeah, mine end with someone getting done. The good way," Sera told him. Dorian sighed, knowing full well that his friend was not going to leave this alone. Clearly it was going to be a long, long trip.
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