A/N: Okay, so I've been gone for awhile again. If you haven't quite figured it out, I go through cycles where I will write non-stop and then I switch to reading, playing video games, etc. until I cycle back around to writing again. I hope to get a few more stories updated, maybe a couple new fics written, too. We'll see. Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy Chapter 4 of Slow Burn!
Despite Dorian's attempts to wave off concerns, he was much sicker than even he initially thought. By the time they reached Skyhold he was barely lucid, fever ravaging his body while the man shivered, feeling nothing but cold. He was immediately sequestered in his quarters where he spent the next few weeks floating in and out of a mindless stupor. He remembered bits and pieces – Varric, Sera, Vivienne and even Krem had all taken turns keeping an eye on him. Cole had popped in and out, helping as only he could. Water and food always arrived precisely when Dorian thought about it and he made a mental note to thank the man. The advisors had also checked in on the Tevinter mage – they had all grown fond of him in their own way. It also provided them with an opportunity to speak with the Inquisitor, who had refused to quit Dorian's quarters since he first carried him there.
"If you keep frowning like that, you'll get wrinkles," Dorian told him. He had woken to find Trevelyan scowling at a letter in his hand. In truth, Dorian had been awake for several minutes, trying to figure out how to best address the fact that the Inquisitor had apparently made himself at home in the other man's bedroom. He decided the best course of action was to do as he did best: ignore it.
"You're awake!" Nathaniel exclaimed, dropping the letter onto a table and rushing over to the other man. "I was getting worried…you were out of it for so long. How are you feeling?" he asked. Dorian took a few moments to parse out what had been said. Nathaniel had spoken softly, his words sometimes running together, making it difficult to catch everything.
"I am…better," Dorian stated. He had thought about giving a flippant answer, waving off the Inquisitor's worries but he was learning that this didn't work. "How long has it been?" he asked as he ran a hand through his hair. He fought not to grimace at the feel of it – Maker he must look a sight. He was going to need a good washing up.
"We arrived back at Skyhold a fortnight ago," Nathaniel told him as he sat in the chair next to the bed. "You only started coming out of your fever a few days ago." Dorian sighed. Perfect. He had inconvenienced the entire Inquisition and who knew what he said during his fever induced dreams.
"Well," he stated, shoving his worry to the back of his mind, "then we best get back into the thick of things." He sat up smoothly, concealing how his arms shook with the effort. "What's happened since the Fallow Mire?" He asked.
"Whoa! Hold on," the warrior protested. One of his hands shot out, landing on the mage's bare chest and keeping him in the bed. "Dorian, you're still very ill. You'll be lucky if the healers allow you outside the walls before next month."
"And what would you have me do?" Dorian argued. "Sit here idly while the rest of you gallivant around Thedas?" he demanded. "There is too much to be done – too much at risk – for me to lay around like dead weight," he snapped. He knew he should not be arguing with the man in charge but he meant every word he said. Besides, he was sick. Didn't that earn him some leeway?
"Is that what you think?" Nathaniel asked, bringing the mage's wandering thoughts back to the matter at hand. "You're healing, Dorian. And if Tevinter teaches you that getting sick is a weakness, then…" he shook his head before looking away and gritting his teeth. "Then Tevinter is more fucked up than I thought it was," he sighed as he shook his head and looked away. Dorian remained silent though he didn't disagree. Nathaniel looked back at the mage when he felt a hand cover his. A quick glance down confirmed it; Dorian had gently placed his own hand on top of Nathaniel's hand.
"Whatever the reason – a quirk of character or my Tevinter upbringing – I dislike not being of use. I will wait before returning to the party but at least permit me to assist with research in the meantime." Dorian requested. Nathaniel gave the man a slow smile before capturing Dorian's hand between his own. Dorian was going to blame his face flushing on his illness.
"I think that can be arranged."
And so it went. Trevelyan returned to his Inquisitorial duties while Dorian stayed in his quarters researching. A flurry of messengers and tranquil entered and exited his room for several hours of the day and the rest of the time he spent resting. Finally he was well enough to return to his duties, which was where Trevelyan found him when he next returned to Skyhold.
"There you are!" he greeted with a jovial grin. "I stopped by your quarters but you weren't there."
"Obviously, as I am most definitely here," Dorian responded with a smirk.
"Glad you're feeling better," Nathanial told him. "Anything interesting?" he asked, motioning to the letter in Dorian's hand.
"A letter regarding Felix – Alexius' son," the mage told him as he turned around to fully face the Inquisitor. "He went to the Magisterium. Stood on the Senate floor and told them of you. A glowing testimonial, I'm informed. No news on the reaction but everyone back home is talking. Felix always was as good as his word."
"Was?" The Inquisitor asked. Dorian pushed back his own grief.
"He's dead." He said shortly. "The blight caught up with him," Dorian informed him, dreading the empty platitudes.
"Are you alright?" The question caught the mage off-guard but a glance at the other man confirmed that he asked the question with sincerity.
"He was ill, and thus on borrowed time anyhow," he answered, trying to remain pragmatic while warmth bloomed in his chest at Nathaniel's concern.
"That doesn't mean that you can't regret his death," Trevelyan told him. Dorian gave a small, tight smile.
"I know," he sighed. "Felix used to sneak me treats from the kitchens when I was working late in his father's study. 'Don't get into trouble on my behalf,' I'd tell him. 'I like trouble,' he'd say." Dorian told him. He hadn't meant to share all of this but for the life of him he couldn't stop. "Tevinter could use more mages like him. Those that put the good of others above themselves." Reality was setting in as Dorian continued to speak. Felix really was dead.
"Were the two of you…?" Nathaniel trailed off, unsure of how to continue. Dorian looked at the Inquisitor but there was no judgment, just curiosity.
"Felix and I? What an odd question," he mused. Trevelyan's face remained passive and Dorian relented. "No, I had no intention of abusing Alexius' hospitality by seducing his son. Not that I've been proper my whole life, by any means," he added, just to be clear. "It wasn't like that. Even in illness, Felix was the best of us. With him around, you knew things could be better." He bit back a sigh. He was going to miss his friend dearly.
"You make it sound like he was better than you," Nathaniel told him. And what an odd thing to say, Dorian mused. To be honest, Dorian did think Felix was better.
"What a mad thing to say," he gasped theatrically. "Few people are better than I." He didn't think his performance was quite up to par, but he was still feeling raw and this heartfelt discussion was taxing his reserves. Nathanial said nothing but the look on his face spoke volumes. "Very well," Dorian sighed. "A better person, clearly. Not nearly as handsome," he added before turning back to his books. He took a few steps before turning back and adding, "Thankfully Felix wasn't the only decent sort kicking around Thedas." He didn't stick around to hear what, if anything, Nathaniel said in response.
It was a welcome distraction, flirting with the Inquisitor. Dorian knew people in the South were much more open about their sexuality but it was something else to see it in person. And another thing entirely to experience it in person… It was not something he had expected given that he was a mage from Tevinter. Still, Nathaniel seemed interested and Dorian…well, Dorian had never been good at staying away from temptation. But temptation would have to wait, he thought as he scowled at the report on his desk. More Venatori throughout Fereldan and Orlais. Although Dorian has no doubt Leliana had read the letter already, he forwarded it to Josephine anyway. The Inquisitor would want to know about the growing numbers before they got out of control. And Dorian, he just wanted his countrymen to stop being so idiotic.
Dorian stared at the note in his hand. Normally he received missives from Leliana or Cullen based on the information he provided but this note came from Nathaniel himself. They had followed up on the information that Dorian had provided and had discovered three groups of Ventaori – two in the Hinterlands and one in the Exalted Plains. Nathaniel wanted him in the party when they eliminated the targets.
The request gave the Tevinter mage some pause. There could be several reasons for the request but one in particular gave him cause for concern. Dorian had informed the Inquisitor and the advisors that he had once called these three 'friends'. To specifically request for Dorian to be in the party…could it be a test of his loyalty? A frown marred his face. If it was a test of loyalty then it was one Dorian intended to pass with flying colors.
The Hinterlands were much calmer than Dorian remembered. Nathanial has poured a lot of time and effort into beating back the rogue Templars and the apostates. He'd also trekked all over the map to close rifts and supply the refugees with food and blankets. Dorian was sure it must have been a splendid sight. Alas, he had still been keeping an eye on Alexius at the time.
They started up near Redcliffe farms as Nathaniel had promised to take a note to Dennet's wife. A group of Venatori were also camped just to the north and Dorian could feel an itch settle deep into his bones. He wasn't quite sure how to feel. He was excited, yes, but there was also a deep melancholy as well. Which of his friends would be the first to die? He needed a distraction. Sera, for all her redeeming qualities, would not understand. Thankfully, Cassandra was in their party today.
"Cassandra, my mother has a friend who's a Pentaghast. Perhaps you know him?" he asked. The Seeker sighed, but answered.
"The Pentaghasts are a large clan, Dorian. I cannot know them all, nor would I want to," she informed him. Her tone indicated that she was not interested in continuing the conversation but Dorian persisted.
"Enormously fat man. Three chins, four mansions, five ways to sell you out, as Mother liked to say." He rattled off. He saw a small smile flicker across the warrior's lips and he waited to hear her response.
"Oh. I do know him: Cousin Loren, with the wandering hands." The rest of the trip was filled with Cassandra telling him stories of her cousin and how his 'wandering hands' had eventually led to his being asked to leave Nevarra. Dorian listened intently, interjecting his thoughts and laughing where appropriate. It was the type of thing he'd write home about – if he were on speaking terms with home, that is.
As the group climbed up a hill conversation died down. In a small alcove in the hills, a group of Venatori was camped out. Dorian scanned the small gathering, wondering who among them he knew. His breath caught in his throat when he saw a familiar face.
"Darinius," he muttered. "You damn fool." He shook his head at the questioning looks his companions gave him. "Let's go while we have the element of surprise," he whispered. The group charged forward, Dorian casting shields around his companions before he began throwing offensive magic at the enemy. Sera provided cover fire while Nathanial and Cassandra charged into battle without a moment's hesitation. All in all, the battle – more of a skirmish – was over before it even began. Dorian walked through the camp afterwards, but he didn't recognize any of the other mages.
"You alright?" Sera asked, sidling up beside the man.
"It needed to be done," he stated lightly. "Darinius always was a power-grabbing imbecile. I had told him before that it would get him killed. I just never thought that I'd be assisting with it," he confessed.
"He threw a fireball at my face," the archer told him.
"Thus why I threw an ice spear at him," he told her, a small smile gracing his lips. He would never understand Sera's train of thought but he'd follow along.
"That's why I like you, Dorian." She told him, clapping him on the back. "Come on, let's go kill more of your friends." She scampered ahead, leaving the mage to trail after her. He chuckled lightly but followed.
It took them several days to reach the forest camp and during that time period Dorian was slowly being driven insane. He had noticed it shortly after they wiped out Darinius' group: Nathaniel kept throwing him look after look. If he were more certain about what those looks meant he might have dragged Nathaniel off for some wildly inappropriate behavior. As it was, he ignored the Inquisitor and continued his conversations with Cassandra and his games with Sera.
"Demons! Flappy robes!" Sera spat.
"Thieves! Dog stink!" Dorian countered.
"Culty shits!" She shot back and Dorian had to bite back a laugh.
"Treacherous Teyrns!" He quite admired his alliteration on that one.
"What?" Sera asked, confusion clearly evident. "It's not a proper game of 'Your People are Shit' if you make up words!"
"Teyrn is a Fereldan title, beneath only the family of the king." Dorian informed her. "I'd have expected you of all people to know that."
"You're…well, that's…Smartasses!" she told him, trying to recover her footing.
"Too late! I believe that's my round." He told her.
"Piss!" the elf cursed. Nathaniel shot his companions a look of bemusement while Cassandra did her best to look unamused. It wasn't quite successful but it was a good effort. They stopped at the forest camp for the night and Dorian knew they would be eliminating another group of Venatori tomorrow. He wondered which of his friends it would be this time.
"You doing okay?" The question was soft, as if the other man was scared of spooking him. The Tevinter could quite understand why, seeing as how the rest of their group had turned in hours ago. Still, Dorian remained outside of his tent, gaze alternating between the fire and the stars.
"I'm fine," Dorian told him. "Just wondering if we'll be eliminating Florian or Julia tomorrow."
"Would you rather stay at the camp?" Nathaniel asked.
"No," the mage told him quickly. "Don't misunderstand me. I don't mind being part of the group eliminating them – I approve of wiping out this menace but…" He sighed. He always hated having to put his emotions into words. "I can despise the Venatori while still remembering the type of people they were. Darinius could never have been called a good man. He was always obsessed with power. But Florian and Julia…" he trailed off with a shake of his head.
"Why do you think they joined the Venatori?" the Inquisitor questioned as he moved to sit down next to the other man.
"Why does anyone join a cult?" Dorian countered. "The promise of something better. The elite of Tevinter have been trying to reclaim our glory days for centuries. The ongoing war with the Qun only continues to weaken our country. And then along comes someone who says they will accomplish what you've been fighting for your whole life. You just have to pledge your service to them, do as they say and everything will be better. History is full of such occurrences. Only this time, it could actually happen – provided the world isn't destroyed first."
"Do you think that you ever would have wound up with them?" The question took Dorian by surprise. Wind up with the Venatori?
"Is that why you asked me to be in the party?" Dorian asked, trying and failing to keep the hurt out of his voice. "What, did you want to watch my reaction as I disposed of a group of Venatori that included people I used to call friends?" he demanded. His voice didn't raise but his tone took on a dangerous edge.
"That's not… I didn't…" Nathaniel stumbled. "Maker, I'm making a mess out of this," he muttered, dropping his head in his hands. Dorian took pity on the other man, biting back the rest of what he was going to say. Better to listen than to react before having all the information. "I asked you to be part of the group because I thought you wanted to be," he explained. "If I'd have known it was going to cause you distress I wouldn't have asked."
"I…thank you. I do want to be here," he told the other man. "Perhaps I used to call them friends but that ended when they joined the Venatori. Thus, they need to die," he sighed.
"It's as simple as that for you?" Nathaniel asked, surprise clearly evident in his voice.
"To choose between the Venatori and the Inquisition?" Dorian clarified. At Nathaniel's assenting nod, the mage answered. "Yes. I will always choose the Inquisition. And I will always put the lives of our people first. If it came down to saving Cassandra over Julia, I would pick Cassandra," he shrugged. The smile Nathaniel graced him with caused warmth to blossom in his stomach. Andraste preserve him, the Inquisitor was going to be the death of him. "We should get some rest," he stated. "We have a lot of Venatori to kill tomorrow." Something flickered across Nathaniel's face but he nodded his agreement. "Good night…Nathaniel," Dorian told him, for once using the Inquisitor's name without prompting.
"Good night, Dorian," he responded, a pleased smile gracing his face. And Dorian thought he could get used to this odd dance they had going. He still wasn't quite sure what it was. He was used to fast and fiery – quick, hard kisses hidden in dark corners of a room. That's how things usually worked in the Imperium. This, however, was different. It was a slow burn that he'd never experienced before. It could ultimately end in disaster but, Maker save him, he wanted to see it through.
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