Dorian groaned in pain as he shifted himself in his armchair. He had propped his leg up on a small footstool piled with plump red cushions. He was trying his best not to move, but even so, the pain lanced through him. He leaned his head back and gritted his teeth. What a stupid way to have injured himself. The dead has risen in the swamps of the Fallow Mire. They had been surrounded. Dorian had set his foot down to perform what was certain to have been some very impressive magic, and he had twisted his entire leg gruesomely in what turned out to be a pitfall. He was still furiously humiliated by the whole affair. Defeated by a glorified puddle. How mortifying. Fay had had to throw him over his shoulder and carry him to safety. The elf had simultaneously held off the hoard of the undead. Dorian glared at the book he was trying to read as he remembered the day he had embarrassed himself beyond saving. The Inquisitor had behaved so impressively as usual, carrying Dorian, fighting undead, closing rifts, saving people. It made Dorian sick humiliation. Fay had fussed over him, incredibly worried when he set him down. He had hovered quite annoyingly, actually. But Dorian couldn't stay angry at him. He had gotten back to Skyhold last night, and tried to repair what damage he had done to himself, but there wasn't much he could do. Solas had recommended rest, so here he was, sulking with his books.
He heard footsteps on the tower stairs. Light footsteps like an elf. Probably Solas come to irritate him. He closed his eyes for a second in annoyance, then opened them to find Fay gazing down at him with a crease between his brows. Dorian tried to sit up straighter, but only ended up hurting himself more. He gritted his teeth and gasped in pain again. The Inquisitor made to spring towards him and stopped short.
"No! Stay still! Please don't hurt yourself." Fay's eyes looked even larger than normal. Dorian noticed he clutched a small vase with flowers in his big hands.
"Have you brought me flowers, Inquisitor? You shouldn't have. You'll make Solas jealous." he joked, in an attempt to bring some levity to the encounter. Fay graced him with one of those special smiles of his. His smiles that were honest, that revealed how tired he was, how fragile he was. How worried he was. Dorian was touched, truly.
"They're lilacs. I'm sure they have some sort of meaning, but I just thought they were colourful…" The large man sheepishly set the lilacs down next to Dorian. The mage sighed as quietly as he could manage. He wondered if Fay knew what effect he had on those around them. Was it deliberate the way he made hearts hammer? Did it just come naturally to him?
"Thank you Faolan." The elf tilted his head and cocked his eyebrow.
"I'll let that one slide seeing as you're injured. I hate being called that." The elf who was dressed warmly enough in wolf fur, leaned against the railing across from Dorian. "How are you feeling Dorian?" he asked gently, his golden gaze piercing Dorian's very soul. He felt a shiver running down his spine at the sound of his name leaving that man's lips.
He looked away and tried to laugh it off.
"I've been better. The fact that I have no-one to peel my grapes is still my biggest complaint by far." He looked back at the elf with the wryest smile he could muster. The Inquisitor was staring at him with hooded eyes. Dorian couldn't even begin to decipher that look before it disappeared.
"I would offer, but I fear I would be disowned by my clan for serving a Vint." Dorian was taken aback by the flippant remark. The elf's gaze had hardened slightly. That couldn't be good. What had he said? Dorian could see that Fay's jaw was clenched, but then he saw tension dropping from the man's shoulder's, and his jaw relaxing. He heard the elf inhale deeply. "This must be quite a culture shock for you." he said patiently.
"It is." Dorian said quietly. There were, of course, aspects of his homeland that he missed dearly. Then there were aspects he abhorred and wanted to never revisit. He started to get an inkling of what had upset Fay in that moment, and he was afraid that they wouldn't agree on the topic. He thought it best to avoid talk of slavery at all. "I feel entirely out of place here." he said instead. Fay's face softened further.
"I can understand that, believe me. I'm Dalish, and I command hundreds, if not thousands of shemlen. It is… unprecedented. Yet there are still those among us who call me knife ear. Those who unwittingly insult my people to my face. Who in their ignorance gravely wrong me. And there are few who understand my customs, the things I do, the things I say. The only one I can speak my own language with is Solas, yet he still despises my culture and all it stands for. I understand you, Dorian. Better than you realise." Fay sounded incredibly sad as he spoke. Desperate almost. Dorian wished he could reach out, wished he could comfort the man. But he had pathetically injured himself.
"I'm sorry Fay. I'm sure we will come across your clan soon. It would be advantageous to have your people on side." Fay blinked slowly and pushed himself away from the railing.
"I'd like to believe that. I'd like to believe my people would help… But I don't know." He sighed heavily, then took Dorian's hand up in both of his. Dorian could only stare up at the man. "Please take care of yourself, Dorian. We need you." He pressed his forehead against the mage's hand and smiled softly.
"Believe me, I try my very best. But how can I be expected to defend myself against puddles?" The Inquisitor snorted a laugh then started to back away, holding his hand until the last possible second.
"Enjoy the lilacs." There was that wry, coy tone again. The one that drove him insane. He didn't know what it meant, if anything. But he knew how it made him feel. It made him feel a way that he shouldn't. He felt warm all over, he felt his heart rate climbing, he felt his stomach pitch and roll. He watched the Inquisitor walk away, feeling more confused than ever before.
Dorian carefully examined the collection the peddler had on offer. Skyhold had a growing collection of tomes, but they were missing some useful books.
"Won't find a better price anywhere else." the peddler said, in her most seductive of tones. Dorian resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"Please. You think because we're the Inquisition you can take advantage of us this way? Show me your best books, and not this drivel. And I expect a better price." The dark-skinned woman gave him a long look, then graced him with a sultry smile.
"You've a perceptive eye Serah Pavus." She swapped out the books for some rarer tomes, and that was when the real haggling began, and the outrageous flirtation followed suit. When the whole encounter was done with, he felt he had done well for himself.
"You've robbed me blind, Pavus, and I'm thanking you for the privilege." The woman shook her head and smiled. "I hope your purchases bring you happiness." Dorian smirked at the woman, as he clutched his stack of books tightly to his chest.
"I'm sure they will bring me many hours of entertainment. Safe travels." The woman gave him a withering look as he walked away. He headed towards a set of stairs that would take him atop the battlements. He liked to walk there on the days when the weather was clear.
There was a stiff breeze up on the battlements today. He shuddered against the cold, and pulled his cloak up further around his neck. He found that the wind helped him think, as though it cleared the cobwebs from his mind. He gazed out around Skyhold, taking in the view of the impressive fortress. The place seemed to be teeming with people. Soldiers, spies, mages, merchants. His eyes locked on an argument between a soldier and a mage. It didn't seem to be too heated, but all the same, he watched it closely. Things had been tense in the past between the mages and the Inquisition forces. The argument went on for some time before it was interrupted. Fay stepped in between them, holding them both apart with strong hands. He spoke quiet words, he gave stern looks, and after a time, the soldier and the mage looked at one another and shook hands. Fay was then all easy smiles, joking and reassuring the two, before heading on his way. Dorian leaned heavily on the wall of the battlements as he followed the elf with his eyes. How could he do that? How could he de-escalate these situations with such ease? How was it that simple? The tall elf made his way over to the practice dummies with long strides. It all came so easily to him. Maybe that was why he was the Inquisitor. He watched the distant Inquisitor shrug out of his jerkin and unsheathe his sword. His almond skin prickled from the cold, and a shiver wracked his body, but the elf focused on what he had come out to do, and formed up with an easy grace that came from years of practice. He watched the muscle's in the man's arms bulge as he struck at the wooden figures. He examined the curve of the man's smooth back, the way his shoulders bunched together, warping the lines of the fine tattoos that sprawled down to his hands on both arms. Dorian hadn't noticed it, but his heart was hammering, and he had broken out in a sweat. He could hear the elf's voice carrying across the courtyard with each strike. Dorian felt his breath quickening, his fingers tightening their grip on the books he held. It was time to face facts. He was attracted to Fay. Incredibly attracted to Fay.
His attraction towards the elf could go nowhere. There were already rumours flying about himself and the Inquisitor. That the mage from the Tevinter Imperium was having undue influence over the Inquisitor, towards his own ends. That there was an 'unnatural', 'unholy' relationship between the two of them. Even with the rumours, support for the Inquisition was flagging. Dorian had seriously considered leaving a hundred times. But he was still here. Dorian could never confess how he was starting to feel. Not to anyone. Especially not to Fay. He realised that he was afraid of what Fay would think. His opinion meant a great deal to him. He had thought about kissing Fay a lot lately. About touching his face gently before leaning in and kissing him softly. In the good daydreams Fay would kiss him back, passionately. Things sometimes progressed. Dorian shouldn't even think of those things. Because what he viewed to be the more realistic imaginings was Fay's rejection. His disgust. That he would push Dorian away from him if he kissed him. That he would command him to leave. That he would revile him for thinking these things of him. He watched Fay swing his sword expertly, his brow furrowed in focus, his lips parted. What was this sweet ache? To know that he could never have this, yet to be unable to leave. To be forced to watch everything he could ever possibly want exist before his very eyes, yet never be able to have it? Fay dropped his arms and straightened up. He could see the elf's breath fogging on the cold air. He tilted his head, and his eyes locked onto Dorian. He was still catching his breath, but he smiled. It was that tired smile that made Dorian want to melt. He tried his best to smile. Fay continued to stare up at him for a time, and Dorian physically felt as though he couldn't drag his gaze away. Cullen approached the Inquisitor at a jog, breaking the spell. He handed a letter to him, which the Inquisitor focused on immediately. He folded the paper over and began to walk, Cullen following after him at a brisk pace. Nothing would ever be simple. Not when the man he wanted was the Inquisitor. He flicked through one of the books he had just bought, stopping on a picture of lilacs. He smiled remembering the kindness of the gesture. The Inquisitor was a surprisingly sweet man. His eyes went to the inscription beneath the plate.
"Lilacs symbolise first love for young Dalish…" he trailed off as he realised what he was reading. Surely not. He snapped the book shut and stared off towards the distance. He was surely jumping to conclusions. Surely.
