"What are you looking at Sparkler?"

Dorian jumped. That damnable rogue could be so quiet when he wanted to.

"Now why would our resident Tevinter mage be staring out the window with such a melancholy expression?" Varric continued. "You look like you're pining after a fair maiden."

Dorian ignored the slight flush rising to his cheeks. "I'm not pining." He retorted indignantly.

Varric ignored Dorian, and glanced out the window. "Isn't that our beloved Inquisitor?" he lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "Not a maiden then, but certainly fair."

Dorian smirked. "Lavellan is attractive, I won't deny it. I'm simply enjoying the view."

Although his demeanor emanated confidence, within, Dorian's thoughts were in turmoil. The mage had just recently come to the realization that he might have feelings for Lavellan. He certainly hadn't come to terms with them, nor was he ready to accept the implications of what these feelings might be. And somehow Varric had already figured him out. If nothing else, the dwarf was certainly perceptive.

There are no feelings. There can't be any feelings. Lavellan is good company, and he certainly is easy on the eyes but that's all. Dorian reasoned with himself. The last thing he needed was to push away one of the few people in the Inquisition that did not treat him like an evil magister.

As if reading his mind, Varric echoed his thoughts. "The Herald of Andraste though? Might not be a good idea."

"What are you after, Varric?" Dorian sighed. He's not going to let this go, is he?

"Just making friendly conversation, Sparkler. And I might be able to offer you some advice. Maker knows that Hawke bugged me about his love life enough. I'm practically an expert."

"Does it matter?" Dorian queried "Can't I admire his physical…attributes without the intent to form any sort of attachment? Even if - and by no means am I confirming any of your conspiracy theories – even if the possibility exists that I might want to pursue something. He hasn't shown any interest in men. He's made it quite clear that he values me as a friend. Nothing will come of it."

It hurt a little to admit that out loud, but it was the truth. In the time since Dorian had met Asher back in Redcliffe, the elf hadn't shown any sort of inclination to either gender. Not even a cursory appreciation of one's figure with his eyes. But even disregarding that, the Inquisitor seemed to value the companionship of Solas and Cassandra most. The two accompanied Lavellan on his outings more often than any of the others, and he was often seen in their company within Skyhold as well. There was no place for Dorian at Asher's side as anything but a friend.

"Probably for the best." Varric replied softly. "If our elf friend is really the Herald, it doesn't bode well for his future. Things didn't turn out so good for Andraste. And if he's not the Herald, then well he's shit out of luck. I've written enough tragedies to recognize where this is going. The chances of any of us coming out of this thing alive are minimal at best. The chance of the Inquisitor getting out of this alive, are practically nil. Chantry lore doesn't have a high track record of keeping its heroes alive. "

Dorian's head snapped up in time to watch Varric quietly leave the room. He was right of course. As far as the Corypheus was concerned, the elf was the only thing in Thedas standing between him and godhood. Failure to kill Corypheus was the same as sentencing Lavellan to death; and a great many others besides. Even if they succeeded, there was a large chance that Asher would fall to martyrdom.

The mage stared sadly out the window, looking down at the Inquisitor. Asher was in the midst of a very animated conversation with the Iron Bull that soon transitioned into something of a friendly brawl.

I don't want to see the day he doesn't come back.


Asher hobbled into the great hall of Skyhold for the midday meal.

"I'm guessing your little training session with The Iron Bull didn't go quite as well as you would have liked." Cassandra observed, nodding at Asher from her place at the table.

The elf grinned at her. "Oh the sparring isn't the issue. The giant piece of muscle decided to slap me on the back at the end of it all. Probably his idea of showing camaraderie or something. It felt like getting rammed by a charging Druffalo. I don't think my back will ever recover."

As he spoke, Asher lowered himself into his chair gingerly. So far the only other person at the table was Cole, soundlessly eating his meal.

"I'm surprised you're here so early, usually you're the last one to come to the table, if you come at all." Cassandra pushed the platter of chicken towards him, and Asher helped himself to a leg, about to answer when Cole spoke for him.

"I can't afford to waste time. Hurting. So many people hurting. Loud. I can't hear my own thoughts. But it's quiet there with the books. He makes me smile."

Asher's head swiveled so fast that his neck cricked.

"COLE!" he coughed, choking on a combination of chicken and spittle.

"It's been a while since I've been able to talk so freely with someone." the spirit continued, unperturbed by the Inquisitor's outburst. "Hooves pounding upon the dirt. A yell in the distance. The sound of metal on flesh. Screams. He runs –hot blood dripping down his face. Bodies everywhere. The fire is warm. But it's cold. Everyone is cold."

Asher froze. The blood in his cheeks quickly draining away.

"Cole." His voice was almost a whisper, the strain clearly audible.

"It's hurting. I wanted to help but I made it hurt." Cole's eyes widened as he realized the effect of his words on the Inquisitor.

Asher forced his face into a tight smile. "It's okay Cole. I….I just – I should go. There's a lot more work to be done." He turned to leave the table almost bumping into the mage behind him.

Lavellan's eyes widened at the sight of Dorian. Had he heard it all? He nodded at the man and hastily retreated to the war room and the safety of his duties.


Dorian stood frozen as he watched the color in Asher's face drain to a sickly pallor. When the elf turned to face him, his eyes were watering, fiercely holding back the tears that threatened to fall. And then there was the smile. That smile that wasn't a smile – pasted on his face in an attempt to convince the rest of world that everything was okay. When it was clear- when the pain in his eyes screamed that it wasn't. He wanted to reach out. To stop him. To ask him what was wrong. But that wasn't his place. A piercing pain stabbed through his heart as Asher's shoulder brushed past his own. Cole had tread into a place where no one was welcome. It wasn't Dorian's place to help, but then who's was it? Asher was the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, constantly surrounded by people - admired, exalted, revered. And yet, he was alone. There was no one more isolated within the Inquisition than the Inquisitor himself. The emotions of an individual were not relevant when the people required a symbol. Lavellan was working to become that symbol, but at what cost?

Dorian's eyes fell to Lavellan's plate, still barely touched on the table. Another missed meal.


Asher was distracted from his paperwork from a knock at the door. The golden red tinge of the sun as it sank beneath the mountain peaks was his only clue to the hours that had passed. The knock came again, more insistent this time, and before he could say anything the door cracked open.

"I'm letting myself in. I do so tire of standing in the hall." The playful lilt of Dorian's voice drifted up from the bottom of the stairwell bringing a small smile to Asher's tired face.

As the footsteps climbed the stairs, a savory smell wafted into the room, reminding Asher of his missed meals. Soon Dorian was standing before him, the source of the smell balanced gracefully in his hands.

"An Altus does not bring food for just anybody. I expect you to eat every last bite." With a grand gesture as if presenting a king with his crown, Dorian placed the meal on the table, not sparing a thought for the numerous papers and reports that were flattened underneath.

Asher chuckled, pleasantly surprised at the interruption. "Dorian!" He protested, but there was no real heart in his words. Out of everyone in the inquisition, he enjoyed spending time with the Tevinter mage most. The man dispensed with the formalities that the others seemed to think were required and his use of sarcasm and wit never failed to amuse.

So he raised his hand in surrender. "Very well Master Pavus. You have my full attention."

Dorian smiled at his success. "Well of course I have your attention. Not everybody can look as dashing as I do. I can't blame you for wanting a good look."

"Oh get off your high horse." Asher couldn't help but laugh as he chucked a piece of fruit at the mage.

"Now, now." Dorian shook his head as he caught the apple. "Jealousy is an ugly emotion Asher. I thought better of you."

"You are incorrigible."

The two exchanged similar banter for some time while they ate before falling into a companionable silence.

"Why do you do it?" the mage asked suddenly.

Asher looked up from his plate. "Do what?"

"Stay. You could have left. You didn't have to become the Inquisitor. But you did."

A sad smile played across Lavellan's face. "I ran away once. I was scared and I ran. And not a day goes by that I don't wish I hadn't stayed and fought. For all the good I might have done. It would have been better for me to die there. But I am a coward, so I ran and I lived while those I held most dear to me died. I will not make the same mistake again." His fingers absentmindedly traced the scar across his left eye as he spoke.

Asher's declaration was met with silence for a time. Inwardly he cringed. The response had been too heavy. No one would want to hear about his personal struggles. Surely Dorian had expected an answer more suitable for the Herald of Andraste. Something about how it was the right thing to do and that he would gladly lay his life down for so a noble cause.

The smile came to his face naturally. It was a mask he had used many times before.

"Ahahaha you should see your face. So serious. Varric would be ecstatic if the hero of this story had such a tragic backstory. His book would practically write itself. Unfortunately my life isn't that convenient of a tale. Truth is I really like this room. I'm not going to get another chance to sleep on a bed like that if I leave." The bluster came out easily enough and Asher watched with bated breath for the mages reaction.

Dorian shook his head in disbelief. Setting down his dish on the table, he rose from the chair and walked over to Asher. Lifting his hand in front of Lavellan's face, Dorian proceeded to flick the elf on his forehead.

"Hey! What was that for?!" Asher exclaimed in surprise. He wasn't sure what he had expected from Dorian but this certainly wasn't it.

"You are a fool, Asher."

Lavellan looked up at Dorian, confused. Before he could ask the mage what he meant however, he was drawn into a tight embrace. Asher froze at the contact, still unsure as to what was happening.

Dorian wrapped his arms around the elf and felt the small body tense at the contact. Trying to ignore the wild pounding of his own heart, Dorian spoke softly, reassuring Asher.

"There's no need to pretend everything is okay, my friend. I don't want to see you smiling when you don't mean it."

The heat rose to Asher's cheeks. Dorian had seen straight through everything. Even more than that the mage was allowing him to be himself. It felt like a huge weight had been taken off his shoulders and Asher slumped gratefully into Dorian's chest, allowing himself to truly relax for the first time in what felt like ages.

Dorian felt Asher relax and once more his heart began beating wildly at their closeness.

Not now. He thought furiously, trying to get his feelings under control. The last thing he needed was to drive Asher away when the elf seemed to finally be opening up to him.

They remained in the position for some time, before a deeply embarrassed Asher finally extricated himself from Dorian's embrace. He could feel Dorian's gaze following him, but could not bring himself to meet the mage's eyes.

"Thank you" he mumbled. "When I left my clan to spy on the conclave I never imagined that I would find such a friend as you have been to me."

"Yeah well you haven't been so horrible yourself" Dorian quipped.

Asher, still finding it hard to look at the mage, found himself staring out the window. His eyes widened when he saw that the sun had long since disappeared over the horizon.

"Creators!" he cursed. "I've kept you far longer than I should have. And there's still so much work to be done."

"No harm done there. The only thing I have waiting for me is a book. It comes highly recommended: Hard in Hightown by our very own Varric Tethras. You'll know if it's as good as everyone says if I still haven't managed to fall asleep by morning." Dorian winked turning to leave.

He paused on the staircase. The words had been on the tip of his tongue earlier but he wasn't sure if it was wise to say them.

Fasta vass, just get it over with.

"I do not know what happened, but for what it's worth…I am glad you survived. You are many things Lavellan but a coward is not one of them."

Asher could only stand there stunned as Dorian quietly descended the staircase and closed the door to the hall with a soft thud.