In a few days, Leliana had confirmed that the scout team had reached Ferelden – and had subsequently vanished. There was no sign of them. Three out of their nine checkpoints had not seen them, and though a few were curious none had sent word to Skyhold. It had been assumed that the group was rerouted.

Dorian and the Dragon-Slayer continued their research, though the news of the scouts' disappearance weighed heavily on the Dragon-Slayer's mind. He had been assured that word would be sent to their families and compensation provided, but it seemed an empty formality. Those families had forever lost their children; and for what? The pressure to disprove his theory had increased tenfold. If it was a simple dragon, he could avenge them. He needed to avenge them. Was that not the Vessel's duty?

The Calenhad tale had been delivered in the early morning. The rider had slept that night – an increasingly rare event – and as soon as he had returned to the rotunda, he studied it. The hours passed. Dorian watched him work from his library, tempted to disturb him, but he realised the severity of the situation and his dedication to see it through. There would be time enough for them to speak. He decided instead to retrieve and catalogue Frederic's studies on hunting patterns, for the professor seemed more willing to deal with him than the Dragon-Slayer.

By the time he returned, notes in arm, he could hear the rider mumbling to himself.

"But which cave system?" he said, "Andraste, guide me, because if you don't I'll dive into those mountains and find my own way."

He straightened and let out a low grumble.

"Damn this."

The Dragon-Slayer stalked to the door that led outside and stepped through it. Dorian noticed the tension in his shoulders, the dark expression on his face. He seemed oddly stressed.

I'll invite him to have dinner with me later, he decided as he set down his supplies, Maker knows he could use the distraction.

The mage opened Frederic's notes and took up a quill. He could not take the rider's burden from him, but he could ease it. But as he started to write and annotate, a shadow overcame his desk; the shape of a Revered Mother, Mother Giselle.

"Master Pavus," she said, her hands folded and her head bent, "Greetings to you. I've come to ask about a rather sensitive subject."

Dorian leaned back in his chair, the quill still in hand. "What subject is that, then?"

"I…Some have noticed that you and the Vessel are becoming quite…close. I must ask – what is the nature of your relationship?"

"What does it matter?"

"It matters a great deal, Dorian. This man is not a simple warrior. He is the people's hope, their protector against darkness. For some, he is one of the only symbols of our Maker's love. There are concerns that your friendship is inappropriate."

"Inappropriate?" he said, his voice indignant, "The Dragon-Slayer is more than just some symbol, you know. He's a man."

"Yes, but a man who means a great deal. It is pertinent for him to put the people ahead of his own desires – especially if those desires were to lead him astray."

Dorian stood from his seat. "I can't listen to this drivel."

"Please understand, Dorian, that I mean no disrespect. It's simply that, as a Tevinter, any rumoured relation between yourself and the Dragon-Slayer could cause great concern. Even if you are a veteran of Corypheus' war, there are those who do not so readily forget Tevinter's past."

"And so you accuse me of, what? Defiling a Chantry symbol? Seducing a man specifically to strip him of his honour? You know nothing of me or him."

"This is true, I do not know the Dragon-Slayer well," said Giselle, "but I do know what he represents, and how blessed we are to be in an age where there is a Vessel. Their rarity makes them all the more precious, and therefore, all the more important."

"Is that all I am, then?"

The rider's voice startled them. Dorian turned to see him at the top of the stairs, slowly approaching with his arms folded and a cold stare.

"Dragon-Slayer," Giselle stammered, "Forgive me. I did not realise you were there."

"So you would happily say it if I wasn't?" he replied.

"I was simply curious about the young man's intentions. I came with the hope to ease some concerns."

"Came to accuse, more like," said Dorian.

"I meant only to understand. This is no mere game, Dorian. The Vessel—"

"Was it not you who told me that the Vessel's path is not one to take in solitude?" the Dragon-Slayer interrupted. "'Heed the Maker, and remember that He has sent you not just to protect, but to live'. Were those not your words?"

Giselle paused. "I…see." She bowed. "I meant no disrespect, Your Grace. I shall take no more of your time."

The Mother left, though she cast a final glance at the pair over her shoulder before she went downstairs. The Dragon-Slayer's arms were still folded, and he was shaking his head as Dorian looked at him.

"I'm sorry for that," he said, "She shouldn't have come after you."

"No, but it seems to be a favoured hobby of hers," the mage told him. He watched as he moved to the window, where the rider leant his head against the stone frame.

"Did she upset you?"

"It takes more than thinly veiled accusations to get to me." He paused. "Did she upset you?"

The Dragon-Slayer shook his head. "I've long known that who I am doesn't matter to the Chantry. There will always be some unapproved relation, some sacrifice I need to make."

"Are you saying you want to—"

"No," he cut him off, "I'm not. Mother Giselle does not dictate my life."

"I do love a man with some independence." The Slayer smiled. "Bull-headed though he might be."

He chuckled, and then looked down at the floor in silence, a thoughtful expression on his face. When the rider looked back up, he gestured towards the door.

"Come with me," he said, "I need to talk to you."

"Is it about the research?" Dorian asked.

"No."

The Dragon-Slayer did not elaborate, and he went downstairs before Dorian could ask anything else. He had no choice but to follow.

The pair had left Skyhold's grounds to walk the open ice paths around them. The Dragon-Slayer had insisted Dorian wear a coat, though he himself had chosen not to. He crossed his arms against the cold as they wandered the ancient roads, forever shifting to the will of the snow.

"Any particular reason for us to be out here?" Dorian asked as they walked underneath a natural ice bridge. It was beautiful in its way, a glittering white sea under a cold sun, a place frozen for millennia, and though he was no fan of the cold the mage could appreciate the magnificence of the mountains surrounding them.

"I wanted to be sure Leliana wouldn't hear us," the Dragon-Slayer explained. "Mother Giselle was presumptuous, but her sudden interest in our friendship marks a turning point. The rumours have started. People have noticed how much time we spend together. We're being watched more closely now."

"Is that a problem?"

"In some regards, yes. These rumours will spread – no doubt the Inquisitor is aware of them, and soon perhaps the world. But I find myself not caring as much as I thought I would. You've been a good friend to me, Dorian, keeping my secrets, humouring my theories. I feel closer to you than I have anyone else. It's a…strange feeling. Mother Giselle's tirade has made me realise that I've risked more than I would have for any other person in getting close to you."

"Do you regret it?" he asked.

"No," he said, "but…Cole visited me a few days ago. On the night I promised you…well, he made me remember some things that I'd rather forget."

"Cole will do that."

He laughed. "I haven't told you much about me, and I fear the tales haven't said much of the truth. There are things in my past that I thought I could run from. But as time's gone on I've realised, sooner or later, they will come out. That's the nature of secrets, I'm afraid."

"Oh?" the pair started through a small tunnel.

"Yes. And while I'm not ready to tell you about my past, I wanted to at least tell you that I will, one day. That is, if you're okay to wait."

Dorian rounded on him as they reached the end of the tunnel. He took his hands, pulling him close as he rested his forehead against the Dragon-Slayer's and kissed the top of his lip.

"Of course I am, Dragon-Slayer," he said, his voice low and soft. The rider sighed and held the back of his head.

"Call me Fabriel," he said. Dorian's eyes sparked, but before he could respond the Dragon-Slayer pulled him into another kiss and silenced him.

The pair stood locked in their embrace as the snow mountains loomed around them, and for the first time in a long time, Fabriel felt safe.