He was sick of snow. Before he left Tevinter, he had never seen snow in his life. He had always thought it was a whimsical thing, for children to play in. Now he despised the stuff. He glared at the thick blanket of snow that lay on the outskirts of their makeshift camp. The snow was most likely what had killed him. That caught in his throat. He stared out into the darkness, a small flame by his side his only source of heat. He watched for stragglers from the attack. Corypheus. A horror from Tevinter's past. From the time where they destroyed the Maker's Kingdom. He glared out at the silent world, waiting for nothing to happen. He had stayed behind. The Herald. He had saved them all by sacrificing himself. He couldn't sleep. The last time he had seen Fay was burned into his brain.
"Go! It's me he wants! It's this he wants!" he had said waving his hand before him. "Live for me. Don't let this be in vain! Go! Leave me!" Dorian had looked one last time in his eyes, then he had been dragged by Cassandra away. How could someone who had just come into his world, a life so vibrant and glorious, how could they be snuffed out so quickly. A brief crash, a thundering fall of snow, and there had been silence. Dorian's heart had sank and never risen again. They had trudged for days through the snow, trying to patch up their injured, trying to comfort their dying, trying to put to rest their dead. The Inquisition was hemorrhaging into oblivion. Dorian did what he could, but his heart wasn't in it. Nobody's heart was in it anymore. They were lost.
"You must be freezing out here. You should come back to camp." Dorian turned at the sound of the Commander's voice.
"Everyone seems to be very concerned with me freezing. I'll be fine, Commander. I'm a mage." He eyed the tall blonde. He stood beside him muffled up in his furs. "What are you doing out here?" Dorian asked, in a gentler voice.
"I couldn't stay in camp a second longer. We can't agree. The Inquisition is dying, and we're watching it go down in flames. We're adding tinder to the fire." Cullen shook his head and sighed heavily. "I don't know what to do… It was different when he was here. He… he held us all together." Dorian was disquieted by the distress in the former Templar's voice.
"Well. He's gone. And you all need to figure out what to do next. We're dying out here." Dorian tried to steel his voice, but he was heartbroken. Fay had been kind to him when so many had scorned him. But that was lost to him now. Fay was lost to the world.
"I'm very sad that he's gone." Cullen said with a small voice. The entirety of the camp seemed to be in mourning for Haven and for their crippling defeat. But they seemed to mourn the sacrifice of Faolan Lavellan, who had been their Herald of Andraste. A Dalish elf. The enormous impact that one elf had made on so many lives left Dorian breathless.
"As am I. He was kind to me. He called me friend." Dorian couldn't believe he said that to a former Templar, someone who he didn't think even liked him.
"You have friends here, Dorian. You will always have friends here. You've acted nobly for a greater cause. You've helped save us all once. We won't forget it. At least, I won't." Cullen smiled gently. Dorian stared at the taller man in disbelief for a moment. Maybe he had misjudged Cullen.
"I appreciate that." Cullen rested a hand on his shoulder, patting it heavily.
"Will you stay with the Inquisition if we make it out of this godforsaken frozen waste?" Dorian looked back out to the white world that surrounded them. He felt lost and hopeless. He couldn't foresee them ever making it out. He opened his mouth to answer, but then something caught his eye, making him shut it again.
"What's that?" Cullen looked out, and he seemed to see it as well. Something flashing, reflecting the light of Dorian's small fire.
"Just a wolf, probably. The fire will keep it away." But Dorian stared on. It looked awfully big to be a wolf. It was like a mass of snow moving, trudging through the snow.
"That's not a wolf. That's a person." Dorian looked on for a second longer before he tore off as fast as he could through the snow with Cullen close on his heels. Dorian's heart was pounding. It couldn't be. He couldn't believe that it was him. It wasn't him. Dorian told himself over and over again that it wasn't him, he was dead.
"By the Maker!" Cullen exclaimed. The figure in front of them fell to their knees, and then they looked up. Dorian almost stopped in his tracks.
His eyes were crusted with ice all around them, his face was incredibly pale, as pale as his almond skin could be. He collapsed further, face burrowing into the snow. Dorian rolled him over and took him into his arms. His golden eyes locked with the mage's. His breathing was shallow and his eyes were wild and haunted. His mouth was open, gasping in every breath he could, his lips pulled back in a semblance of a snarl.
"It can't be." The elf locked eyes with Dorian again, and reached up suddenly and grabbed the back of his head. He focused on Dorian's eyes, he pulled him closer.
"You… You're real." he whispered, his cold lips grazing Dorian's ear, sending a shiver through him.
"Yes Fay. I'm here. I'm with you." He looked up at Cullen who was staring with wide eyes, dumbstruck. "Get help. Quickly!" Cullen nodded quickly and darted back through the snow towards the camp.
"I saw you. In the snow. So many times." Fay said weakly, a sickly smile on his blue lips. "But I could never reach you." Dorian didn't know if the Herald meant the Inquisition forces, or he himself personally.
"You found us. I don't know how, but you're here. You're safe. We have you. You're going to be okay." Fay's hand slipped from the back of Dorian's neck to his face. His fingers slipped down his cheek as his eyes fell closed, and his body went limp. "Fay." He shook him. "Faolan. Herald!" He heard footsteps in the snow, coming fast and hard.
"Thank the Maker!" Cassandra exclaimed.
"Help me move him!" Dorian called, panic setting in.
Iron Bull ran with them. The big Qunari scooped the elf up and threw him over his shoulder.
"We need to get him back to camp now. He's freezing to death. Quickly!" Dorian snapped. He could scarcely keep up with the Qunari. The remainder of the Inquisition stood back in silence and watched as they ran past with Faolan Lavellan, who had almost died for them, to save them. And here he was, defying death again. There was less snow in the middle of the camp, thankfully. They were able to move faster.
"Set him down, here." He grabbed for a sister of the faith. "Help me." She turned to him and nodded, looking scared. She was very young. "The rest o you, get back. I need to work." He had precious little time to get this right. He was going to die. "Sister, help me take these clothes off him. One you find dry clothes, please." The sister was already pulling back the layers of the unconscious elf's clothing. Dorian pulled a wickedly sharp knife from his boot, and set about cutting the clothes from the man. They were frozen stiff in places and sopping wet in others. They wasted no time in tearing his clothes off him. Bruises covered his body, blossoming into an ugly purple. In a few places there were crusty, infected wounds. He could get to those later. He sat next to Fay on the bed they had lain him on, and hefted the heavy man into his arms embracing him. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He needed to heat the Herald's body, slowly, to bring him back to a healthy temperature.
"Sister, could you please cover the Herald over with some furs. We need to get him as warm as possible." It was only a matter of minutes, but it felt like hours holding Fay in his arms, praying that he would wake. He never did. Dorian was eventually satisfied with the Herald's body temperature. His lips were pinking up, there was colour in his cheeks, and his breathing came easier, smoother. He set him down gently, and smoothed back stray strands of hair from his face. He hadn't had a moment to think.
He stood, stretching his stiff and sore muscles. He helped the sister dress the elf in the warmest clothes that would fit him. As they went, Dorian healed the infected wounds, setting him to rights, as best he could. All the time he prayed silently to whoever would listen that they would let Fay wake up. The world needed him. Dorian sat next to his bed, slumped in a chair when he had done all that he could. He stared at him, watching his breathing, making sure it didn't stop, but it seemed steady. He was exhausted. He had expended so much of his mana saving Fay, that he was putting himself at risk. He wrapped himself in a blanket, and sat back in the chair, his feet leaning on the Herald's bed. Cullen came to sit beside him.
"Here. You need to eat." He handed Dorian a bowl of soup. He was so hungry that he wasn't going to complain.
"Thank you. I need it." Dorian wolfed into the soup immediately, appreciating the warmth in his belly.
"I can't believe it." Cullen was staring at Fay as much as Dorian was. Both of them were clearly afraid that this miracle would be ripped away from them. "What you did… You saved him Dorian." Dorian stopped eating for a moment, feeling suddenly choked up. He could hear the respect in Cullen's voice as plain as day.
"Anyone would have down what I did. But not as well. Nor would they have looked as good doing it." Dorian said flamboyantly, trying to deflect the moment. Cullen smiled slightly.
"Yes. But you did it. We're all incredibly grateful. Faolan is the figurehead we need. He's the hero that people will follow." Dorian was still reliving leaving him at Haven, turning his back and running. He still felt incredibly sick at the thought. He was reliving that moment of realisation that it was Fay crawling through the snow towards them.
"You should get some sleep while you can. I'll stay with him, I promise. I'll wake you should anything happen." Dorian considered saying no. He was about to, when he thanked Cullen.
"I definitely need some sleep. Come and get me if his condition changes." Dorian stood stiffly. He leaned down over Fay, touching his face. He looked so much younger when he was sleeping. Dorian smiled. He felt stable. He could risk getting some sleep. "Don't go anywhere." he murmured, as he patted his cheek gently. Dorian walked into the camp and found an empty bed to fall into. Sleep took him the second he closed his eyes.