"We know so perfectly how to give birth to the monsters inside us, but for reasons I will never figure out, we have not the slightest clue of what to do with all the love." -Christopher Pointdexter

Natha:Lath'in

Quiet. Blessed quiet. The sun had set hours ago and the great Skyhold hall was finally empty, lit only by the moonlight streaming in from the tall ornate windows that towered over the throne. Though, 'Rhen would hardly call the chair that occupied the dais a throne. Not quite as ostentatious as his other options – and far more comfortable – it was made of heavy oak braced with iron and draped with luxurious furs. A gift from Ferelden for handling the mess in Crestwood. They sent additional wolf and hound carvings a month later, but 'Rhen had thought them superfluous and opted for storing them out of sight. The chair was large enough as it was. Ridiculously so. He wasn't even a monarch. What use had he of a throne? But Josephine and Leliana had insisted. Something about image and projection of power. 'Rhen hadn't bothered arguing, knowing full well the futility of it. And thus, a giant chair for him to sit in on occasion and pass judgement. A long way from his place in Haven's dungeons. 'Rhen humphed darkly, rubbing at his wrists, and leaned against the heavy oak door leading to his quarters.

It had been far too long since he allowed himself the luxury of a break. No missions, no letters, no politics. Just a single moment to catch his breath before the madness resumed. It wasn't by choice. 'Rhen was, apparently, looking a little extra ragged these days. He felt it, too. A struggling breath here, an aching joint there. Sleep did not come easy. Though, when did it ever? But it was difficult to put the sword down when he knew what awaited them if he did. He glanced at his hand. It didn't glow but 'Rhen could still feel the faint pulse of magic, his connection to the fade. Even after all this time he was still not used to it. He wasn't even sure he understood it. 'Rhen had been a fighter all his life. If it wasn't the sword, it was his fists.

This, though? This was something else entirely. Magic was for mages and circles and... Well, others. 'Rhen didn't believe for a second in the whole Andraste's chosen business and he had said as much. His life was not one of those copper piece novels the rich and the bored seemed so enamored with where a dashing young hero gets imbued with mystical powers and saves the day, then marries off to some unfortunate heiress with Maker's blessing or whatnot. 'Rhen did believe in shit luck, though, and he knew he just happened to have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. And his run of shit luck was determined to keep on coming. Let's put a Dalish elf in charge of a controversial organization with no oversight that's reshaping the political structure of all Thedas. That'll go super well. He pushed open the door and slowly climbed up the steps, knees giving protest, as his mind sorted through the events at Halamshiral.

'Rhen was no politician, that was Josephine's forte, and the song and dance he had to perform for the Orlesian nobility - on top of preventing an all-out war - was more than a little exhausting. His years of experience have taught him the depths of human hatred for his people. Yet still, even in his position, he had to endure the whispers, the stares, and the surprisingly overt remarks on his heritage. On more than one occasion a steady hand had to calm his anger. If it weren't for Josephine, Orlais would most definitely have been short a few nobles by the time he was done.

In the end, 'Rhen was amazed things turned out as well as they had. The government did not collapse, Celene was still alive, and Florianne awaited judgement in the coldest and darkest cell in Skyhold. And yet 'Rhen would pay all the gold in Thedas to never set foot in Orlais again. Everything was a game to those people, damned be the consequences. He longed for the simple days of his clan life when the fate of the world rested on someone else's shoulders. For a moment, 'Rhen wondered if the Warden had felt the same. He, too, was thrust into spotlight against his will, forced to make world changing decisions. Or had he chosen willingly?

There was one bright spot in all the chaos, though. One perfect moment that made it all worth it. A small smile crept onto his face as the warmth of his last night at the Winter Palace flooded his memory. He was sure his dance with Dorian had started more than a few rumors and it should have worried him. But at the time, all 'Rhen could think about was Dorian's solid frame pressed against his own. Dorian's breath against his skin as he recounted the night's gossip. Dorian's arms guiding him so expertly 'Rhen had forgotten he didn't know how to dance. It had set his blood aflame and left him wanting- needing more, chased by thoughts of what Dorian looked like without his trappings of belts and buckles and leather. He was glad the night had been dark, and the music had ended before he had made his thoughts more… obvious. And a timely arrival of one of the ambassadors had saved him from a mountain of embarrassment.

Of course, 'Rhen knew it was foolish to wish for more than he deserved. Considering what he'd done, what he's got should have been more than enough. But Dorian – Dorian made him want. And each passing day made it more difficult to deny it. All those days spent so close but never quite close enough, and the nights spent alone, wishing…

'Rhen shook his head to clear his mind. This was a dangerous thought to follow and one best left untouched. Tucking the memory away as best he could, 'Rhen turned his thoughts to Evelline. His smile widened as he imagined how much his sister must have grown since they parted ways. When he left the clan, she had just turned six, so full of hope and life, both vibrantly reflected in the green of her eyes. If there was anyone he was fighting for, it was her. 'Rhen hadn't known her long, but in the few years they've lived together, Evelline had come to mean everything to him. She was the reason he started living instead of just surviving and he would damn well make sure he'd do the same for her. No ancient darkspawn would stand in his way.

'Rhen felt regret at not having time to visit, and more than a little guilt. He promised Evelline he would write to her with wondrous tales of his travels and adventures, and of all the animals and people he encountered. But with everything going on it had slipped through the cracks. Time and time again. The wooden halla Blackwall had carved for him still sat on his desk, gathering dust. 'Rhen had meant to send it ages ago. With this forced time off, though, it was an opportunity to make good on his promise.

As he crested the top of the stairs, motion from the corner of his eye caught his attention and 'Rhen nearly tripped at the sight of -

"Dorian!" he exclaimed, startled to see the mage sitting on his bed. "I wasn't expecting…" His voice trailed off as Dorian looked up to meet his gaze, summoning the very thoughts 'Rhen was trying so very hard to bury. It was ridiculously unfair that the man didn't even have to try. A simple look from him was all it took to make 'Rhen weak in the knees. It shouldn't be this easy. But, gods, those eyes, that smile, that mouth… He steadied himself against the railing, hoping the flush of his skin was not as obvious as it felt.

"Ah. There you are," Dorian said, his trademark half-smile playing across his face and straight through 'Rhen's heart. "Sorry about this. I do hope you don't mind me using your, ah, rather spacious quarters. Can't read anywhere in peace these days."

You are incredible, 'Rhen wanted to say, along with a few other things that were far too inappropriate for regular conversation. He chose to bite his tongue, instead. He was determined not to make a fool of himself tonight.

"Are you hiding?" 'Rhen asked with some bemusement, senses grudgingly returning. The idea of Dorian hiding from anyone was ridiculous. Then, his brows furrowed in concern as another thought occurred. "Is your father here?" He didn't remember inviting Halward Pavus to Skyhold. In fact, after the whole business in Redcliffe he hoped he would never have to see the man again, if only for Dorian's sake. He was glad to help them reconcile, sure, but wanted nothing more to do with the magister.

Dorian frowned in response and 'Rhen immediately regretted bringing the matter up. Family was a difficult topic for both of them and he hated causing undue distress. He was about to apologize when Dorian put down his book and looked squarely at him.

"Worse," he replied, the intensity in his eyes doing things to 'Rhen he precisely wished to avoid. "Do you remember the last conversation I had with Mother Giselle?" 'Rhen's heart skipped a few beats, and his mouth went dry. Dorian was not making it easy for him tonight. How could he forget? The memory of Dorian's mouth on his – hot, wet, and tasting of wine – sent a bolt of arousal straight to his cock and 'Rhen's hand instinctively reached up to his face to brush his thumb over his lower lip, biting at the calloused pad. The small bit of pain was just enough to keep him from tumbling over the edge.

"Of course," 'Rhen acknowledged, clearing his throat and turning away from Dorian. Fuck… It took every ounce of restraint he had to not close the short distance to his bed and do unspeakable things to the man occupying it. Dorian didn't seem to notice the torment he was putting 'Rhen through, though. Fortunately.

"Believe me, her trying to be civil is far worse. I much preferred her backhanded remarks."

As Dorian returned to his book, 'Rhen took a few long drags of air through his nose and relaxed his grip on the rail, relieved to no longer be the focus of attention. Though part of him couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment. They never discussed what happened in that alcove and 'Rhen was hesitant to bring it up in case it was not what he thought it was. But it had to have been something, right? They weren't 'just friends', or just a rumor. It didn't help that 'Rhen himself had no idea what it meant. For him or for them – was there even a them? It was like being stuck in limbo that 'Rhen wasn't quite sure how to get out of. Though he wasn't quite sure how he stumbled into it, either. Dorian had been on his mind long before that, he just didn't think anything would come of it. And then Redcliffe happened and there was a small glimmer of hope. And then that glimmer became a full-blown fire that kept him awake at night.

"I'm sure she means well," 'Rhen finally replied, forcing down his frustration. He would have to do something about it later. Again. For now, he pushed off the wall and stalked over to his desk, steering his mind towards less traitorous thoughts. He needed to break away before he said or did something stupid as his body became more acutely aware of Dorian's presence, so languidly spread across his bed.

"Yes. Well," Dorian said wryly, waving airily, "she can go mean well with someone else." His voice trailed off as he resumed his reading and 'Rhen found himself alone with his thoughts. He looked out the window, breathing in the cold night air and trying to compartmentalize. It was just a kiss, it meant nothing. He knew that. Damn it, he knew that. Yet every time he saw Dorian, his heart felt like it would beat straight out of his chest. And them being alone together...

No. No longing glances in Dorian's direction. He needed to stop. It was hard enough as it was with his mind running around in circles, making it impossible to focus on anything else. Plus, before he could sort out the feelings for the mage currently occupying his bed, he had other matters to attend to. A promise was a promise.

'Rhen picked up the small halla carving and ran his thumb over the fine wood grain. Blackwall did an exceptional job. The detail was stunning. With inlaid eyes of lazurite and horns carved out of dragon bone it looked almost real. Hallas were Evelline's favorite. She firmly believed they brought good luck and would often spend her afternoons with the clan's herders, mostly to their frustration as she often snuck the halla out for walks around the woods. Maybe once this mess was over, he could retire and return to his clan.

He wasn't supposed to have gone to the Conclave. He had begged not to. But the Keeper had chosen him as their envoy because of his knowledge and he couldn't very well have refused. Not after everything she had done for him. This was one debt 'Rhen would never be able to repay. Not that he minded.

"Should I leave?" Dorian's voice cut through his thoughts. 'Rhen thought for a moment before turning to face him again, gently setting the small halla statuette down. Surrounded by thick blankets of fur and finely woven Ferelden cotton, Dorian was the picture of perfection. One would have to be absolutely blind not to see it. But it wasn't just Dorian's appearance that drew 'Rhen to him, though it helped. Underneath all those layers of sarcasm and humor, there was infinite compassion and wisdom that no doubt was hidden for self-preservation. Orlais was bad, but Tevinter must have been so much worse. The truth was Dorian was a much better man than anyone gave him credit for. Certainly, better than 'Rhen could ever hope to be. That didn't stop him from wanting to ravish every inch of Dorian's body, however. But tonight, 'Rhen needed quiet company more. He had forgotten how lonely the nights at Skyhold were.

"If you don't mind the cold, I don't mind the company," he finally replied and walked over to the fireplace to throw another log in. It really was cold. The Frostbacks were always covered in snow, but with their approach into winter, the temperatures were dropping below comfort levels.

The evening passed in silence, broken occasionally by a small chuckle from Dorian. Periodically, one of them would get up to light another candle or put another log on the fire, but for the most part time passed without another exchange. 'Rhen finished his letter and began working his way through a stack of missives and requests to the Inquisition. It felt never ending and, at times, completely irrelevant. But he was asked to do this and so he did, night off or not. Building favor, as Josephine called it. He thumbed at his ring absentmindedly as his eyes scanned over a sheet of parchment, resting his head in the palm of his hand. It was a letter of gratitude from yet another person he helped with he'd forgotten what. It was starting to become difficult to keep track. The pledge of support, though, would no doubt be invaluable. 'Rhen yawned and stretched, glancing at the darkened windows. How long was he at this? The candles were nearly spent, sending dancing shadows across the walls and it was quiet. He snuck a glance over the letter he was reading to check on Dorian.

The mage was asleep, the open book on his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm of his breathing. It was the first time 'Rhen had seen him like this. Face shadowed by stubble and hair completely out of place, Dorian looked… human. It was completely disarming, and it stirred a painful longing in 'Rhen, tightening around his heart. He had never considered domestic life. It was just something he never thought he'd have. He always pictured himself going out in some battle, or perhaps mauled by some bear – which was far likelier than one would think. But if this were it, would it be so terrible to give himself up? To trade his past for these quiet nights of peace...

No.

Yet another foolish dream. 'Rhen sighed and returned to the letter. He couldn't remember what it was about. His mind kept wandering off and his eyes were starting to glaze over. It had been a long day, as most days were, but he was getting used to it. Somewhat. After almost a year of this, it was like being swept up by a wave and eventually learning and mastering its currents, though more so out of necessity than want. Survival had always been the best teacher.

Setting aside the letter, 'Rhen kicked off his boots and softly walked over to the bed where Dorian stirred but did not wake. He desperately wanted to reach out, to touch, to kiss, to feel something other than a glimmer of hope or crushing loneliness but doubt and fear stayed his hand.

This wasn't his to have.

After a moment of hesitation, he carefully pulled off a blanket and a couple pillows and arranged them on the floor by the fireplace. Too tired to notice the discomfort, he downed the contents of a small vial given to him by Adan and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning 'Rhen awoke to an empty room, body aching from sleeping on the floor. There were additional covers thrown over him and the warmth they brought made 'Rhen hesitant to get up. He pulled them tighter around himself, the scent of Dorian's bath soaps still lingering on them, and squeezed his eyes shut against the intruding daylight, doing his damnedest to ignore the familiar pang of disappointment. If only he could stay here forever, wrapped in his daydream. 'Rhen pressed the soft fabric to his nose, flooding his senses with memories that reawakened last night's cravings, and his hips bucked in response, seeking friction. Fenedhis… Why did he keep doing this to himself? He drew his knees to his chest and sucked in a deep breath through his teeth, smothering his arousal.

It was still early, but he knew eventually someone would expect him. Though it wasn't the expectation that finally pulled him out, but his unhappy stomach as it grumbled in discontent. He had forgotten to eat the night before and was paying the price for it.

Keeping one of the blankets draped over him, 'Rhen groaned and stalked over to the water basin. He broke the thin layer of ice and dipped his hands in. The frigid water sent shivers down his spine and after silently counting to three, he splashed it on his face. He swore loudly as the shock brought him to full wakefulness. The cold was one thing he probably would never be used to. He shook the water from his face and ran his wet fingers through the mess of his hair, trying to put it into some semblance of order. Hopefully, no one expected him to meet with foreign dignitaries today, especially not in his day old, slept-in outfit which he had no energy or motivation to change out of. 'Rhen shoved his feet into his boots and headed for the stairs.

He was about to open the door when someone knocked. He swung it open, half expecting the whole of Inquisition behind it, with Josephine's worried face fronting it, but it was just one of Leliana's messengers.

"Message for you, Inquisitor." she curtly stated, holding out a piece of paper.

"Ah. Thank you."

The messenger did not reply. She simply put the note in 'Rhen's hands, nodded in acknowledgement, and vanished back down the stairs. It took a moment for 'Rhen to recover from the initial surprise. The interaction was so brief it caught him off guard, his mind still sleep-addled. He stepped back into the room by the window and flipped over the message. His name was written on the front in Leliana's delicate handwriting. Odd that she'd send a note rather than come up herself. Figuring that she was probably away at the moment, 'Rhen broke the seal and read the letter.

Inquisitor,

I was hoping we wouldn't hear any more news out of Wycome. However, such is not our luck. A raven came in last night bearing news from your Keeper. I have to take care of some urgent business, but I have updated Cullen and Josephine on the matter. Meet them in the war room so you can discuss options. This is something you should take care of soon.

-Leliana

Hunger and tiredness vanished as 'Rhen's heart dropped to the floor. Evelline.

The duke had been dealt with, but that left too many unhappy nobles who were likely looking for any excuse to strike back. And knowing what he knew, 'Rhen was certain it would involve bloodshed. He should have known better than to let the matter rest.

Steadying himself, 'Rhen took a deep breath. This was not something he was willing to wait on. He closed his fist around the note and made his way down to the war room. When he opened the door, Cullen was the only advisor in. He was leaning over the table, brows creased, looking solemn. 'Rhen had heard of his past, but by the way the shadow crossed over Cullen's face when he talked about it, he knew there was more to it. It seemed like everyone here was broken in one way or another.

"Inquisitor!" Cullen looked up in surprise as though startled out of deep thought. "We weren't … ah...oh! Josephine! Good, you're here!" 'Rhen turned to see Josephine walk in behind him, looking more tired than usual. The war was wearing everyone a little thin. She nodded politely at both of them and before joining Cullen on the other side of the table, she handed 'Rhen a worn piece of parchment.

"A letter from your Keeper, Inquisitor."

'Rhen took it with a shaking hand, unfolded it, and began reading it aloud, failing to keep the worry from his voice.

"Da'len, Thanks to the efforts of your Inquisition, Clan Lavellan is safe within the city of Wycome, and Duke Antoine's mad efforts to destroy us have ended with his death. For now, I lead both our clan and the elves of this city, while the human merchants have formed a group that deals with us fairly and honorably." An audible sigh of relief escaped him. They were okay. It was not as bad as he had feared. Relaxing a bit, he read on. "The other cities of the Free Marches listen to the false stories of the nobles who fled. I fear they will retaliate, but I am loathed to flee this city, as that would effectively leave the city elves to die for our actions. If you have a path that leads to safety for our people, I welcome your advice. Dareth shiral. Keeper Istimaethoriel Lavellan." 'Rhen felt his muscles stiffen, anxiety returning in full force with the Keeper's confirmation of his suspicions. He was right. This was something they should have expected. No human liked when an elf stepped on their toes. Or killed one of their own. If something wasn't done immediately- No. He couldn't consider that possibility. He wouldn't.

"I am certain we can negotiate peace between both parties," Josephine spoke up, cutting through 'Rhen's thoughts. "I can send diplomats."

"Are you mad?" Cullen interjected. "Those elves will be dead before any of your diplomats arrive. We need to send reinforcements to fortify the city."

"I'm sure that's unnecessary, Cullen." Josephine retorted. "I know we can resolve this without further threats."

"While I trust in your ability, I know their type."

The argument faded into the background as 'Rhen stared at the letter, trying to figure out what to do. Wycome was far. It would take him days to get there and when he did, what would he do? His history with humans wasn't exactly a shining example of good will, with good reason.

"What are our options?" he asked, looking to his advisors.

"Cullen believes we need to send in soldiers-"

"Because it's the only way!" Cullen interrupted, eliciting an angry sigh from Josephine.

"It is not! Your worship, I know people in that area! I can have my diplomats resolve this without further violence!"

"Josephine, you know full well the Marchers will kill everyone and apologize later. We can't take that risk!" Cullen argued back.

"Inquisitor?"

Fenedhis! Why did they have to settle so far? Cullen presented a convincing argument, but 'Rhen thought the presence of soldiers would only be seen as a sign of aggression that would certainly escalate into chaos. The last thing he wanted. Josephine, on the other hand, could talk her way out of any situation. If she trusted her diplomats, then perhaps that was the better option. He looked to her in confirmation.

"Okay, Josephine. Send in your people."

Cullen shook his head in disapproval but said nothing further. The only option left to 'Rhen was to wait and hope to gods everything worked out. Easier said than done. It was difficult to not second-guess his decision, but he had to trust. He had no choice. All he could do was occupy himself to the point of mindlessness. It was the only way he would be able to get through this.