Dorian was never very good with the difficult emotions. In Tevinter high society, feelings were generally considered a weakness to be exploited, and he had been groomed for that life well. Leave sentiment for the soporati.
So after such a public display of feeling for Aeric at Adamant, it wasn't any wonder that Dorian had no idea how to proceed. Gossip would start up again, and all of the progress he had made over the past several weeks would be for nothing. Worse, Dorian wasn't sure if he minded. If avoiding scandal would continue to mean that he had to cut Aeric out of his life completely, he was no longer willing to do it. Some interaction between the two of them had to be allowable. He was married already, wasn't he? Pledged his life to another? Father would not understand, of course, but he would get his precious heir eventually. And wasn't that enough? Dorian was already close to being a pariah for not staying quiet about his desire for social reform. One more count against him would not change much.
It would be all right. He could still save his family. He could still save Tevinter.
While he was in the South, he would enjoy Aeric's company and friendship. Despite his feelings. Despite the fact that what they felt for each other was not platonic. And when Corypheus was dead, he would go north with Livia, resume his life. And try to forget.
During the long journey back to Skyhold, Aeric was quiet, even more so than usual. When he wasn't in debriefings with Cullen and Cassandra, he rode his brown hart in silence, his eyes scanning the horizon as if searching for answers. Dorian was loathe to admit it, but he worried over him. Whatever he had seen in the Fade clearly still had its hold over him.
One morning when they were halfway to Skyhold, Dorian went to sit with him at breakfast, wanting to check on him. The elf was eating a thick slice of bread with a spoonful of honey spread on top of it. "I thought you didn't like sweet things," Dorian said by way of greeting as he sat down.
Aeric looked up, and Dorian couldn't help but notice that the elf's expression seemed a bit brighter after he arrived. "Honey is the exception," Aeric said around a mouthful of bread. "Can't get enough of the stuff."
Dorian smiled, digging into his food. Either the cook was getting better, or he was actually getting used to Southern cooking. Whatever the case, he found he didn't mind the breakfast that day. They ate in silence for a while before Dorian spoke up again. "You've been brooding for some time now," he said gently.
Aeric turned his head to look at Dorian, his eyes sad. "I know."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
There was a pause. Aeric opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. He shook his head. "I… don't think I can," he murmured. "Maybe… Maybe some other time."
Dorian nodded and figured it was the end of the conversation. He turned back to his food, to leave Aeric alone with his thoughts, when the elf spoke up.
"Thank you for coming back for me," he said, giving a faint smile. "I doubt I would have made it out without you."
"You're damn right you wouldn't have," Dorian replied. Irritation had seeped into his voice as he recalled how scared he had been, how devastated he was when he thought that Aeric had died. "I'll never forgive you for-" He took a breath, stopping himself. Words were dangerous. Nothing could happen between them. "You shouldn't have stayed behind," he amended.
Aeric nodded. "I know. I'm sorry." He paused, hesitating. When he spoke again, it was in a low tone that anyone passing by would not be able to hear. "You called me something, at Adamant. Twice, actually. 'Amatus', wasn't it?"
Dorian's cheeks grew hot, and he glanced away toward the forest. "A slip of the tongue. It doesn't mean anything."
Aeric chuckled. "I have an idea of what it means, Dorian."
"Do you?" Dorian was genuinely surprised. "I didn't think you knew any Tevene."
"No, I don't," the elf agreed. "But I've read books in translation from Tevinter authors. Sometimes they record old letters between friends, family… lovers. And terms of address aren't always translated."
"Oh, I see." Dorian felt himself blush harder. "Clever, aren't you?"
Aeric shrugged, but smiled in a way that made him seem entirely too proud of himself.
Dorian smirked. Cheeky bastard. "And what about yours? You called me something as well. What was it? Ma-something."
"Ma'nehn," Aeric offered, still smiling.
"Yes, that. Elvish, I assume? What does it mean?"
Popping the last bit of bread into his mouth, Aeric chewed thoughtfully before answering. "Not telling."
Dorian laughed. "Oh come now. That's hardly fair!"
"No, it really isn't," Aeric said with a grin. He got to his feet and brushed a few crumbs from his lap. "Now, I hate to cut our conversation short, but I have a meeting with Cullen." He began to walk away.
"You're incorrigible, Aeric Lavellan," Dorian called after him. Without turning, Aeric answered with a wave of his hand over his head.
As he continued to eat, Dorian still smiled softly to himself long after Aeric had left. He had to enjoy this feeling while he could. The easiness he enjoyed when interacting with Aeric over the past month would soon be over. He would return to Skyhold, and Livia would insist that they bolster their image and spend much of their free time together. He had promised Aeric that he would make time for him, and he would. But it would be different. As cautious as they had to be out in the field, it was nowhere close to how they had to act around the nobility, who were always eager for seeds of weakness to exploit.
Dorian didn't want it to be different. Or, at least, not in that way.
ooo
When the Inquisition entourage arrived at Skyhold, there was a small gathering waiting in the courtyard, cheering as they passed through the gates. Many of them were the spouses and family members of the soldiers, and they rushed forward as they spotted their loved ones.
"Husband!" a familiar voice called out as Dorian dismounted from his horse. He turned and only had a moment's warning before Livia launched herself into his arms. "It's good to have you back!" she proclaimed and kissed him soundly on the lips. "A month is far too long to be waiting for you."
Dorian tensed, casting a sideways glance at Aeric, who was standing nearby. Aeric was already turning away, handing the reins of his hart to Master Dennet. With a twist in his stomach, Dorian pulled the old invisible mask over himself again. "My dear, we were apart five times as long last time, and I didn't get this kind of greeting then."
Livia grinned, raising a finger, mocking a scolding gesture. "Ah, but I was the one arriving and road-weary last time. It is not my fault you are terrible at reunions." She took his hand and pulled him gently toward the stairs. "Come, you must be tired. We'll retire to our quarters and you can regale me with stories of your wild adventure against the Grey Wardens." She guided him towards the tower, and as Dorian looked back, he could not find Aeric anywhere.
Livia's greeting was all an act, of course, much as anything they did at Skyhold was an act. As everyone settled back into their routines, his day-to-day life returned to agonizing small talk with Livia and the nobles, and a few hours of blessed books in the library. Time with Aeric had to be scheduled, organized, and the old awkward tension between them returned.
And yet, the more Dorian was forced to spend time apart from Aeric in the days that followed, the more he realized: after Adamant, there was no going back to the way things were before.
Feeling something for Aeric was one thing. Consciously knowing that it was more than attraction, more than a crush, was apparently quite another. Aeric was helping him with his research into Corypheus' ancestry, and the hour or so they were able to spend together in the library was the highlight of each day. All their time together consisted of the two of them reading - Dorian from the Liberalum, Aeric from various texts on the first Blight - and discussing their findings, with a little random chatter in between. But each moment with him, each minute of conversation was so much more engaging and fulfilling than an hour spent carousing with Livia and the nobles. It was more than they had had before their trip to Adamant. And still Dorian craved more. Infinitely so.
Every morning, after his bath, Dorian took to having his tea outside on the landing, gazing out over the garden below. He felt pathetic for doing so, but it was the only other time that he knew where Aeric would be. As he sipped his tea, Dorian watched the elf tend to his tree and flowers before sitting in its shade and reading. Aeric knew Dorian watched him. Most mornings, Aeric would stop to give a little wave and a smile before going back to tending his tiny corner of the garden. It felt like time alone together, even if they were yards apart.
One morning, he was out on the landing again, the hot cup almost painful as he cradled it in his hands. Aeric waved and Dorian waved back as he took a long draw of tea.
"There's another man inside you, Dorian."
Dorian jumped and sputtered, sloshing hot tea on his hands as he spun around to find Cole standing behind him. "Maker's breath, Cole!" Dorian coughed, casting a bit of ice magic over his hands to sooth his scalded skin. "Don't sneak up on me like that! And… I have a man where now?"
"You carry someone else inside you," Cole said, confusion in his voice. He jumped up to sit on the stone railing. "He feels more like you than you do, but this you is the only you anyone ever sees. Why?"
Dorian understood, though he didn't want to admit it. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You do." The spirit cocked his head to one side as he kicked his feet idly. "He hates you, hates the you that you show to everybody. The you that looks like your father's pride. But the you that looks like you is the one on the inside, and you've buried him so deep that you ignore his screaming. But I hear him." He paused, looking down into the garden. "Aeric does too."
Dorian looked down at Aeric too, who had begun reading his book. "I know he does," Dorian murmured. "But please leave it be, Cole. You can't fix this."
Cole shook his head. "I want to help, Dorian. You think a hundred generations will fall if you don't do what you've been bidden, but they did all their screaming and crying and lamenting long ago. Your screaming is now, and urgent. It hurts my ears to hear it."
"Please," Dorian pleaded softly. "Stop this, Cole."
"It hurts Aeric too," Cole whispered. "He doesn't hear it like I do. His listening is with heartbeats and feeling. He hears it and wants to help, but doesn't know how."
"I don't want to hurt him." Dorian's heart ached sharply at the thought that he might be causing Aeric pain. "What I wanted was to save my family and my country. What I wanted was to kill Venatori and help defeat Corypheus. I never expected to…" He paused and glanced back down at Aeric. Leaning his elbows against the railing, he buried his head in his hands. "Please let it go, Cole. And if you can't, at least leave me with it for now."
"Leave you with what?" Livia's voice answered.
Dorian turned around and sighed when he saw that Cole was no longer sitting beside him. Livia, late riser that she was, had only just emerged from their room, a cloak covering her robes and brushing against the tops of her soft leather boots. "It's nothing," Dorian told her. "I was talking to someone, but he left without saying anything."
"That seems a little rude," she said with a sniff.
"It's his way," he replied, shrugging.
She came to stand beside him, slipping her arm around his, more out of habit than affection. "For someone who hates the cold, you certainly like freezing half to death out here."
"It's not so bad with a cup of tea in hand," Dorian said, though whatever tea he had in his cup had gone cold.
Gazing down to the garden, she spotted Aeric and gave a sad smile. "And even better with a view, I see."
Dorian grunted, not saying anything, though his cheeks warmed with embarrassment. Was Livia simply perceptive, or was he really so obvious?
"So you like him?" she asked softly after a careful glance to make sure they were still alone.
"Not that it matters," Dorian answered with a grumble.
"Of course it matters. But it certainly doesn't make our lives any easier. Or his, I'd imagine." She paused, fiddling with the clasp on her cloak. "Does he know?"
Dorian nodded. "We've never spoken about it in so many words, but we… have an understanding between us."
There was silence as she watched Aeric for a few moments. "You know this is terribly sad, don't you?" she said finally, gesturing between him and Aeric below. "This thing you're doing? Pitiful, really."
With a sigh, Dorian hung his head, even more embarrassed than before. "I know! How did this happen?"
Livia laughed. "You're a sentimental fool, Dorian. I've always suspected so. The ones who claim to be heartless always are." She pulled her cloak around herself more tightly as the smile fell into a serious expression. "I won't think for a second that I have any say in your affairs. If you want to risk everything we're working toward, do it. Get it out of your system. Just don't get caught. Be discreet, and don't let it go too far. Maker knows one of us should get to have the real thing for once, after the two of us just pretending all the time."
Dorian eyed her with a furrowed brow. "You want me to sleep with him?"
She laughed, a bitter thing with little mirth. "Don't think me a matchmaker, Dorian. It doesn't matter to me whether you do or don't, so long as no one knows about it. I only know that you are distracted. Perhaps a night with the Inquisitor could fix that. Even you have to be tired of our forced chastity by now."
"Of course I am," Dorian grumbled. "I have been quite tired of it for a long time." Sweet Maker, but that was the truth. Between getting married and coming south to fight, it had been nearly a year since he had had sex with anyone. He woke aching with need most mornings, his mind filled with fantasies of Aeric more often than not. It had been difficult to hide it from Livia. He considered her for a moment, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. "Are you saying this because you want to have a… a fling with someone?"
"Perhaps," Livia said with a little smile. "I'd be lying if I said that the Grey Warden by the stables hasn't caught my eye."
"Blackwall?" Dorian said in a choked whisper. "That hairy lummox?"
"Maybe I like hairy lummoxes." She shrugged. "I would never make a habit of it, of course. And neither should you, if you pursue the Inquisitor. There is too much at stake to risk discovery. Or worse, emotional entanglements."
Dorian said nothing, not knowing how to tell her he was already hopelessly entangled.
When Dorian didn't reply, she sighed. "Or perhaps we should just leave for Qarinus. The Inquisitor seems to have the situation well in hand, and you'll be less distracted if he's not around."
"I want to see this through," Dorian told her, shaking his head. As he continued, his voice took on a hard tone. "Even if I were to do nothing but watch, I need to see Corypheus well and truly defeated. The deader, the better."
Livia gave a gentle laugh. "I don't believe there are degrees of dead."
"You'd be surprised, my dear."
They stood beside each other in silence for a moment, the morning becoming warmer as the sun rose higher into the sky.
"You know you'll never be able to fix Tevinter if you don't become a magister," Livia spoke up in a low tone. "For all the opinions the other alti hate you for, you still have status and privilege. They respect that."
"I'm well aware of how our homeland works, Livia," Dorian said with a touch of impatience. "And I still believe there's hope for it."
"Good, as do I. Don't lose sight of your dream. Not for anything." She gave Dorian a meaningful look, nodding her head towards Aeric. "Or anyone." She let go of Dorian's arm. "I'll be late for my shift at the infirmary if I do not hurry. I'll meet you later in the Great Hall, yes?"
Dorian didn't answer at first but watched her go for a moment. "Livia? Quick question?"
Livia turned, an eyebrow raised.
"What was your dream?" Dorian asked quietly. "What was your aim in doing all of this? I never asked."
She chuckled. "That's a quick question?" She paused, thinking. "I wanted to raise my family's station, of course. House Herathinos is not nearly so prestigious as House Pavus, as you well know. But I suppose the short of it is that I wanted to have the influence to make lives better. We have been at war with the qunari for so long, and so many of the soporati come back from battle hopelessly injured, but they rarely have opportunities to see a proper healer. Meanwhile, alti and laetans see spirit healers for the smallest of scratches." Her face had taken on an angry, determined look. Dorian felt he recognized it. It was the same expression he imagined he had when talking about ridding Tevinter of blood magic. "I'd like to help the people who need it. Not the fucking lazy bastards who can't be bothered to learn a bit of healing magic to treat their own scrapes." She blinked, realizing she was speaking loud enough for passersby to overhear her cursing. Blushing a little, she smiled. "I suppose we are both revolutionaries in our own ways, aren't we?"
"Seems that way." Dorian returned her smile with one of his own. "Best head off to your patients now."
Nodding, she left down the stairs, leaving Dorian alone with his thoughts.
Dorian cared about Livia's dream, that she be allowed to pursue such a worthy endeavor. He cared about preserving his family's legacy, he cared about gaining enough influence and power to reform Tevinter to become the great nation he knew it could be. He cared about proving to his parents that he loved them, that he could make them proud once more.
Yet as he looked down at Aeric, he wondered if he cared enough.
ooo
When Dorian entered the tavern one evening a few days later, his feet were almost dragging on the floor with how exhausted he was. He didn't understand how he could feel so invigorated after fighting a legion of demons, but after a few hours listening to banter with Livia, he felt as if his entire being had been wrung out. News of Dorian and Aeric's actions at Adamant spread, though more slowly than one might expect. Dorian thought it was because there were only soldiers at Adamant, and nobles did not often speak with such common folk. But rumor did finally reach Skyhold, and with it, questions arose from nobles all too willing to pervert anything based on hearsay. Dorian had replied evasively, which only seemed to stoke their interest as they concocted elaborate love triangles. Orlesians being Orlesians, he suspected he and Livia would become even more the favorite couple than before. His father wouldn't know whether to shit himself with anger or joy.
Dorian was ready to sequester himself away upstairs with a bottle of brandy - it had been that sort of evening - but as he approached the bar, he saw a gathering of familiar faces at a table nearby. One in particular caught his eye.
Sitting amongst Iron Bull, the Chargers, and Varric, Aeric held a tankard but was not drinking from it as he listened to Krem tell a story. The elf's face was interested and intent, but unsmiling until he noticed Dorian drawing near. Aeric lit up almost instantly, a sudden enough change that the others turned to look at Dorian.
"Hey, Sparkler!" Varric greeted. "Look who finally decided to join us for some good ol' rest and relaxation!"
"I relax," Aeric protested.
"Not nearly enough if you ask me." Varric turned back to Dorian. "Pull up a chair. There's some space over by the Inquisitor. Krem here was just telling us about his first job under Tiny's skillful leadership."
Iron Bull scowled. It must not have been a very flattering story. "It was a long time ago."
"Not that long ago, Chief," Krem said with laugh.
"There were distractions," Bull grumbled.
Krem grinned. "Two redheads and a bronto? I'll say there were."
As Krem teased Iron Bull, other little conversations cropped up amongst the Chargers, leaving Aeric and Dorian sitting and listening together. After a moment, the mage turned to Aeric and glanced at the other man's tankard. "Not willing to drink the swill they call ale here?" Dorian asked with a small smile. In truth, he actually rather liked the Fereldan beer, but he'd be hard-pressed to admit it. "There's a man with good taste."
Aeric shook his head. "It's not that. I just don't like drinking much. I only took it to be polite."
Dorian's brow rose in surprise. "You don't like sweets, you don't like drinking. What's next? Meat? Cheese? Grapes?"
"I like those things."
"Glad to hear it." He paused to wave down a barmaid, who only nodded before going behind the counter, already knowing what he liked to drink. "The sweets and the drinking. Is it a Dalish thing?
"No, it's just me," Aeric replied with a chuckle. "The Dalish make their own wine, of sorts, and have it at festivals. And there are plenty of them who love sweets as well. My sister in particular. She used to beg Da to go into town when our clan passed by human cities so we could trade for some treats." His eyes took on a faraway quality, as if seeing a memory instead of the little tavern. "When we were teenagers, we used to sneak away from camp and go to town sometimes. We would trade rabbits I'd hunted in exchange for apple tarts. Besides the cakes, those were her favorite." The smile faded from his face as he finished speaking and returned from the memory.
Dorian reached out and touched Aeric's arm, not knowing why, but feeling that the other man needed to be comforted. Aeric gave a sad smile of thanks. "I didn't know you have a sister," Dorian said softly. "You don't speak of her often."
"No, I don't," Aeric sighed. "But she's been on my mind a lot lately."
Dorian's wine arrived then - his drink of choice when socializing - but he paid little attention to it. Instead, he wondered what it was about Aeric's sister that made him so melancholy, and what he could do to make him feel better. "You miss her," he said.
Aeric nodded. "Very much."
"You could tell me about her, if you'd like," Dorian offered.
Giving another smile, though not so sad this time, Aeric rested a hand on Dorian's, which he suddenly realized was still lingering on Aeric's arm. "Not now, ma'nehn," the elf said softly. "Perhaps some other time. But thank you."
Aeric's hand was warm on his, a heat that traveled to Dorian's face. I want this, his own voice whispered in his head, even as he pulled his hand away reluctantly. Maker, he really was pathetic. It was only a touch of their hands, but his heart hammered in his chest as his eyes met Aeric's. The elf didn't appear offended that Dorian had pulled away; on the contrary, a slight blush was on Aeric's cheeks as well. Dorian cleared his throat. "Anytime," he said and took a long sip of his wine.
"Everything all right there, Sparkler?" Varric asked with a knowing tone and a laugh. "You seem a little flushed." He hadn't spoken loud enough to be heard over the Chargers, but Dorian still scowled at him. He suspected the dwarf had seated him and Aeric close to one another on purpose.
Aeric glanced at Varric and frowned. "Perhaps I should go. I'm causing trouble for you." He pushed back his chair so he could get out.
"You're leaving?" Dorian asked, setting down his glass. "But I've only just arrived."
"I know," Aeric replied, hesitating as he set down his untouched tankard. "But I think your arrival might now be my cue to leave." He made a small movement, as if he wanted to reach out to Dorian. Instead, he held his hands clasped behind his back. "It's fine. Have a good evening anyway." Without waiting for a reply, Aeric turned and walked out of the tavern.
Dorian whipped around and glared at Varric.
"You don't have to say anything," the dwarf said regretfully. Despite the fact that Dorian was still staring him down, Varric moved closer, taking Aeric's empty seat. "I already know I fucked up. I shouldn't have teased. Sorry."
With a grunt, Dorian downed most of his wine, already waving down the barmaid again. "I don't know what you think you're playing at," he whispered, the din of the tavern and the Chargers' raucous laughter covering his voice for anyone but Varric. "But Aeric and I are not a couple. You can't go treating us as if we were."
"But you want to be," Varric whispered back. "And don't deny it. I know people, and you two are as crazy about each other as I've ever seen."
It hurt to hear it said so plainly. It hurt because it was true. Dorian threw back the rest of his wine, wanting it to burn as he swallowed hard and feeling disappointed when it didn't. He was going to need something stronger.
Varric went on, leaning in. "I didn't see what happened to you two when we were at Adamant, but Hawke told me."
"Of course she did."
"But she didn't need to tell me," the dwarf insisted. "I see what you and the Inquisitor are like together, on the rare occasions you let yourself be in the same room. You can't keep your eyes off each other."
"Yes, those rare occasions." Dorian paused as the barmaid came by and he ordered a brandy. As soon as she was out of earshot, he continued. "And then you go and make him so self-conscious that he left. He's not even an anxious person by nature."
Varric took a swig from his tankard. "That's not really my doing, Sparkler," he said pointedly.
Dorian scowled. "And I suppose it's mine?" He gritted his teeth, angry now more at himself than at Varric. He was the one who got Aeric caught up in his family's politics, after all. "Perhaps it is," he admitted. The barmaid came with his brandy, along with the bottle. Perhaps he did come here too often.
"So?" Varric asked after a moment. He looked at Dorian expectantly, as if waiting for something. "You're not going to do anything?"
"Do what?" Dorian heated the snifter with a bit of magic. "Did you forget? I'm married. And family is everything in Tevinter." He gave a bitter laugh, swirling the caramel-colored liquid in the glass. "On the surface, at least."
The dwarf sat back and frowned, his arms crossed over his chest. "And that's it. You're just going to leave it like this, with the two of you avoiding each other and pining after each other all at the same time?"
Dorian took a gulp of his brandy; the punishing burn of swallowing it so hard was just what he was looking for. "I'm going to help Aeric defeat Corypheus, hopefully with my sanity intact. Then I'm going to take my wife and return to Tevinter to take my rightful place in the Magisterium."
Varric's eyes narrowed. "And what about the Inquisitor? You care about him. More than you care about your wife, unless I miss my guess. Or are you willing to dive into the Fade after her too?"
"It doesn't matter what I feel for him." When Varric opened his mouth to protest, Dorian cut him off. "I'm telling you, it doesn't matter. Because after this is all done, I'm going back to Tevinter, and I'm… I'm never seeing him again." His voice broke as he ended the sentence, and he took another sip of the brandy. Hearing himself say it out loud made a knot of clawing despair sink through him. "It will be better for everyone in the long run this way."
Varric sighed, his face having softened to an expression of sadness and pity. "You don't really believe that."
"It doesn't matter," Dorian said again, though whether to convince himself or Varric, he wasn't sure. What he was sure of was the fact that he was neither sober enough nor drunk enough to handle how upset the thought of leaving Aeric made him. "And I've had quite enough of this conversation, thank you. If you'll excuse me…" He got to his feet, taking the bottle of brandy and the snifter with him. Varric shook his head in frustration, but didn't stop him.
Dorian wandered to the bar and sat heavily on a stool, refilling his glass almost immediately. He let the bard's music wash over him as he downed the contents of the glass and nursed those complicated emotions he hated to deal with. It was a long way off still, but he didn't want to leave Aeric. Yet if he wanted to go home and fix what was wrong with the Tevinter, it was inevitable. Inevitable, if he wanted to save his family. Dorian wasn't sure if it truly was better this way, either for himself or for Aeric. It didn't feel better. Still, it was necessary.
Another drink. He couldn't deny it to himself any longer, however, that he wanted to be with Aeric. The alcohol did little to numb the churning emotions, despair and desperation creating a sickening whirlpool in his stomach. If he could be allowed to be selfish, if he could cast aside his duty to his parents, his responsibility to his homeland, he would run to Aeric so fast his feet would never be able to keep up.
Another drink. One night. One night to get it out of his system, Livia told him. Get him out of his system. Surely Dorian would be able to forget Aeric then. No one had ever wanted him after sleeping with him. Not before. Aeric would be no different, he told himself. Even though he selfishly and stupidly hoped against hope that he was wrong. Even though he knew Aeric felt something for him as well. In Dorian's experience, it had always been about pleasure, never more than that. No matter how accepting the South was said to be about same-sex relations, surely they couldn't be that different from Tevinter behind the façade?
It had been a couple hours since Aeric had left. How many drinks had Dorian had now? The Chargers and Varric were still there, though he could see that they were winding down, their stories and laughter less raucous. Dorian slid off his stool, steadying himself with a hand on the bar as he staggered a little. Filled with fuzzy courage, he straightened his feet beneath him and left the tavern, heading towards the stairs just across the courtyard. He was surprisingly steady as he climbed them, and gave a nod to the guards posted outside the Great Hall as he walked past them.
The Hall was empty, all guests of the Inquisition having left to their rooms or traveled home to their estates in Orlais. The guards who patrolled the inner areas of Skyhold at night were apparently elsewhere along their route. His heartbeat quickened as he hurried across the Hall, sighing with relief as he reached the door to Aeric's tower. Quickly, he opened the door and stepped through it into the stairwell.
One night. One night to lose himself with Aeric, to let it end between them, and finally to move on.
