Chapter 9
Ellana was surprised to see Dorian and Bull running towards her. Judging from their expressions both were worried. She had fled to the outdoors, collapsing on the first park bench she came across. Uncharacteristically overcome with emotion, the scholar fought back a deluge of tears, shivering in the frigid night in her cocktail attire. She had not expected her new friends to chase after her given the scene in the gallery that had unfolded between her and Dr. Fen'Harel.
Remembering the words she had exchanged in anger made her blush. Ellana had failed to maintain her cool.
Resolving not to cry, she waved at Dorian and Bull weakly. Both sped up to a jog, Dorian pausing to tenderly wrapping her coat around her trembling body before sitting down next to her while Iron Bull squatted in front of them, patting her on the arm.
"I'm sorry," Ellana began, choking down a sob that threatened to erupt. She did not expect both men to shush her reassuringly, or pat her arm. She had been wandering for so long she had forgotten what it was like to have the support of others.
"You don't have anything to be sorry for," Bull interjected. "We are the ones that should be apologizing for subjecting you to a terrible evening. We didn't know you and Doc weren't on great terms."
"Doc?"
"That's the Chargers nickname for Solas. He's treated their head injuries. It's how we know him."
"Ah," she breathed gruffly.
"I didn't mean to put you in such an awkward position" Dorian confessed a bit crestfallen. "Twice in one night."
"Oh Doran, I am sorry. I didn't know you and Dr. Fen'Harel were friends, nor do I want to put you into the middle," Ellana muttered, covering her face in embarrassment. She couldn't help but think that she had ruined the evening, even if Dorian and Bull were making efforts to demonstrate that wasn't the case.
"Perhaps this is a long story best told over a drink?" Dorian asked with dramatic fervor. "Please, let's speak no more of it until we find ourselves in the warm embrace of The Kirkwall."
Iron Bull shot his husband a withering stare that made Ellana smile. He was always asking Dorian to slow down and think before he spoke.
"I mean, not that I wouldn't ever want to listen, I only meant to say a healthy serving of red wine might brighten the conversation."
Elanna made a snort half-way between a laugh and a sob, leaning forward in an attempt to simultaneously hug both Dorian and Bull. It was an awkward embrace, that ended up as mostly an armful of limbs and fabric. Still, her gesture was warmly reciprocated and for a moment Ellana could forget how awful the evening had been.
"What did I do to deserve to meet you two?" Ellana asked.
Dorian didn't miss a beat before responding, "Given your time in Minrathous, probably ritual sacrifice."
Despite her protests, the two men continued to fuss over Ellana on their walk to the faculty parking lot. Dorian hooked an arm in hers, while Bull made sure to amble slightly ahead, his bulky swagger warning off anyone who might dare to share their path. When they reached the purple sedan, Ellana had been ushered into the heated front passenger seat in an attempt to quell her unrelenting shivering. She was a bit relieved when Bull hit the radio button and turned up the volume, humming along as he expertly navigated the streets while Dorian began to fervently text on his phone, shouting out midway through the ride, "Josephine is coming!"
Dorian had told Ellana all about his favorite spot in the city many times. Patronized by artists, poets, and other disreputable types, the bar was an off-the-wall destination that rarely made it into Val Royeuax travel guides. If that had anything to do with the bits of gold that the proprietor, Varric Tethras, used to bribe travel writers and journalists, none was the wiser. Too many tourists, after all, would cut down on the Dwarf's ability to manage a side-hustle of morally ambiguous trade deals.
Varric, she learned, was an expert in all things. The bar was just one of his many businesses, but according to Dorian, The Kirkwall was his favorite. The Dwarf treated it as a type of office and was often found sitting at the bar, greeting his usual visitors, dispensing sage advice to anyone who asked (and many who did not). He was also, according to Dorian, an avid ghostwriter of adventure and romance novels, with a long list of titles, some of which were recently made into movies.
"Careful," Dorian had warned Ellana on the car ride over to the exhibition.
"Of his unscrupulous business deals?
"No, that you don't end up as a character in one of his books."
Ellana laughed to herself thinking over Dorian's words. Considering that she was an art historian she didn't think that she lived the type of life that would inspire a novel. Lately, most of her time was spent writing and rewriting dense paragraphs about forgotten things. That or skimming student papers. Teaching had left her so busy she had not had an opportunity to visit any of the famous gigantic art museums or royal residences packed with relics of the past since moving to Val Royeaux. That will have to wait until summer.
When Bull parked the car, Ellana was especially pleased to learn that The Kirkwall was a couple blocks away from her apartment.
"You'll love Varric," Dorian announced as they stepped out of the car. Ellana would never have guessed they had arrived at the bar that he had described. There wasn't even a sign to mark the location. It looked so unlike any of the other hotspots in the Orlesian capital. The newer bars were open window affairs, with loud music and hip drinks served in mason chairs. Nor did it resemble one of the traditional cobblestone patios that would serve espresso during the day and wine at night. Instead, all Ellana could see was a white stucco facade with a battered door that resembled a corner bodega.
Expecting a bit of a dive, Ellana was astounded when she entered a rich interior with clusters of small wooden tables in the front with short stools and a large oak bar that took up most of the entryway. The scattered patrons were dressed in experimental get-ups, or in one case, a group of Dwarfs in stark black suits grumbling softly to one another. Bottles of exotic wines and liquors in a potpourri of vivid styles and colors lined the back wall, a small window cut out with a view into the kitchen as chefs flung pots and pans as they worked.
Ellana didn't have much time to try and make out the different languages because as soon as she walked, and hung her coat up, a squat Dwarf jumped down from one of the bar stools, flinging himself at Dorian and Bull with a loud whoop. The three men patted each other on the back with a couple of grunting acknowledgments before Dorian paused to introduce Ellana.
"Varric, I'd like you to meet one of your new regulars, Dr. Ellana Lavellan."
Extending a hand to the Dwarf, Ellana was struck by his welcoming face lined with smile wrinkles. She liked his style right away, admiring how proud he seemed of a dense expanse of chest hair amplified by a low-cut t-shirt over which he wore a red velvet smoking jacket.
"Another Doctor? Are you faculty like Sparkles over here?"
"I'm an art historian," Ellana replied, laughing at Dorian's nickname. No doubt, inspired by The mage's flashy performance art pieces using Tevinter magic rituals as much as his style.
"A Dalish art historian in Orlais." Varric marveled out loud staring intensely at the small intricate branches on Ellana's cheeks. Her tattoos were subtle and Ellana was not used to having them ogled at so openly. She was unsure what to make of how blatant Varric was being.
"See, this is why I opened this bar. An ex-qunari spy, a Tevinter mage turned internationally renowned artist, and a Dalish art historian dining together as friends. All far away from home, needing a place to drink. Tell me, Ellana, what is your story?"
"No, no-Varric. You will not write Dr. Lavellan into your pulp," Dorian sighed. "I'm still not over the romance novel where the handsome mage with a mustache dies."
The two argued for a bit, while Bull whispered into a confused Ellana's ear, "Died well, but ugly."
"Listen, Sparkles," Varric interrupted the artists' tantrum. "How about I bring you a bottle of my best red on the house as an apology."
"It's a start," Dorian responded with a wink.
"Alright, let me get you your usual room," Varric shouted excitedly, stopping by the host stand to grab menus. The group was escorted down a narrow hallway with doors at the side, one marked as a restroom, and the others closed. Ellana could hear low sounds of talking but was more focused on the smell of spices and roasting meat wafting in the air, making Ellana's mouth water. When did I eat last? She wondered, only to realize she hadn't had a morsel of food since late morning.
Varric opened the door to the last room and ushered the three of them in. The space was filled with a long table with bench seating for about six. An elegant centerpiece of blood lotus and baby's breath gathered into a hammered gold vase that refracted in the dim light added a nice touch.
It was the paintings on the walls, however, that Ellana found compelling. There were four in total, one filling each wall, large abstract fields of purple and black with gold outlines of Tevinter sigils and dragons. Looking at the Fluid marks, for a few brief moments, Ellana felt as if she is floating in a cloud.
"Dorian's corner," Varric announced with a grin.
It took Ellana a few seconds before she understood what's Varric was implying, "Dorian these are your paintings? I love them!"
"Early works," Dorian grinned, clearly pleased at the attention.
"His necromancy-revival phase," Bull bragged, pulling out the bench and gesturing for Ellana to take a seat. Varric tossed the menus in front of them, and immediately brought back some freshly made bread with homemade butter which Ellana dug into with relish.
"So red for Sparkles and Bull here," Varric mused, bringing in a bottle and uncorking it. He expertly poured the liquid into their glasses and left the bottle on the table for the group to drink throughout the evening. Ellana could smell the earthy aroma, identifying it as a rich pour. Maybe a merlot? Setting down an empty glass in front of her, Varric paused before announcing, "You're a champagne sort of person, aren't you?"
"How could you tell?" She laughed. Really, Ellana would drink any wine, but champagne was her favorite.
"I can read 'em and have just the thing."
The Dwarf bounded out of the room, returning with a bottle of champagne with a hot pink wrapper, popping the cork off, and pouring Ellana a healthy serving in an elegant crystal glass, the kind with a wide low rim that always made her feel elegant. The fizzing beverage is a soft pink color.
"A brut rosé," Varric announces with pride.
Taking a sip, Ellana closed her eyes. The taste was amazing, dry but with a subtle sweetness, that added just a bit of mellowness to the effervescent bubbles.
"This is so wonderful."
"It's Dalish. Made on one of the reservations in the Exalted Plains. The only place you can find it in the city is here," Varric said. 'I know their Keeper, we trade back and forth."
"Oh, I love it even more," Ellana replied, feeling grateful to sit peacefully after such a long and terrible evening.
I think I'll spend half my paycheck here going forward if I'm not careful, she thought to herself.
"So, you can order," Varric continued. "Or you can let the Dwarf pick."
"Dwarf pick!" Dorian called out before surveying Bull and Ellana, both of whom nodded. As Varric turned to exit the door, Dorian called out, 'Oh, and Josie is coming!"
For a few minutes, the room is filled with the sounds of content chewing and drinking. It seemed that Ellana was not the only one starving.
"So, I have to ask before Josie gets here," Bull began abruptly swishing his red wine in the glass, "What is with you and Doc?"
Ellana set her glass down and covered her face with her hands, she knew she had turned bright red again, but she wasn't sure how to address the subject to Bull and Dorian considering they were friends with Dr. Fen'Harel. Still, she would have to try.
"It's a long story, but you know my book Fade Objects?" Dorian and Bull nodded encouragingly. "Well, he wrote a rather unflattering review and accused me of falsifying my findings. It caused a minor scandal and I had grants revoked."
Dorian twisted his mustache thoughtfully as Bull chuckled at his husband. "I don't know much about your research, as you know, I'm not much for…reading. I might also say, as a fellow mage, that I understand that what you claim in your book is possible. The negative review? That doesn't sound like Solas. It's curious."
"I'm sorry I don't want to manufacture drama. I didn't know you were friends," Ellana declared. She had been careful, after being on the receiving end of so many hurtful comments, not to make unfair statements or gossip herself.
"No," Dorian replied kindly, "I don't want to minimize what you are saying. I also know you would never make up your research. I'm only perplexed because, although I don't know Solas very well, sabotage doesn't seem his style."
Bull nodded, "Nice guy, he helped me out last week. My star player, Krem, had a nasty concussion and Solas stepped in and made sure that he got the best care after some of the doctors had made some nasty comments."
"He takes the toughest cases," Dorian continued. "He's an expert on not only brain injuries. He's also helped out a lot of mages when their magic interferes with usual treatment. He's come to all the mage conferences at the University."
"He is a mage," Ellana observed. She had been surprised to learn this. There weren't many mages left in the world. Earlier that evening, she might even claim that having her, Solas, and Dorian together in the same room was highly unusual.
"We could talk to him if you like?" Dorian asked generously. "We don't know him well, but there is something here that doesn't make sense."
"No, thank you. I have a meeting with him tomorrow. I should just have a straightforward conversation with him."
"Ah, like a colleague might?" Dorian teased. "The University of Orlais will burn to the ground now that manners have arrived."
Ellana laughed thinking over the recent drama in the Art History Department. That week two professors had refused to speak to one another when one had taken some finished copies off the shared printer and set them in a folder on top. The gesture had not been warmly received and had resulted in a shouting match where both accused the other of foul play.
"Why are the two of you meeting if you don't get along?"
"Vivienne is having us work on an exhibition together."
"That sounds like Vivienne," Dorian observed with a sour face. The two faculty members got along, but Dorian often was often critical of the Chair's methods.
"Now Vivienne is a person who lives for sabotage," Bull observed.
"You should know, there are some wild rumors about him," Dorian said in an ominous voice. "He consults with the government on all sorts of secret projects."
"He's a trained spy. Can see it in the way he walks," Bull announced, sipping daintily from a large pour of red merlot. Ellana didn't know much about Bull's days in the qunari secret service, but she knew enough to take his pronouncements seriously.
"Oh really?" Dorian asked excitedly, "Which ones of my other colleagues are undercover?"
Bull beamed mysteriously at his husband with a wicked grin. "If I told you that, I would have to kill you."
Dorian rolled his eyes before turning to Ellana, "You know he made that joke the first time we had dinner with my parents. My father choked on his coda alla vaccinara and my mother fainted."
Ellana laughed so hard at the image that tears appeared in her eyes as Josie burst into the room. Her friend was dressed in a gold peasant dress, with billowing sleeves, looking radiant as the dim light illuminated her soft features. She stood up to greet her fellow professor with two kisses on the cheek, Orlesian style before the group sat down to listen to Josephine's latest travel anecdotes.
It would still take some time, Ellana knew, but Val Royeaux was starting to feel like a fine place to land.