((This Delain song was the other candidate for a story title.
And my Tevene is Latin. I know it isn't and the first time I represented Tevene (in Saving Us) I used Gothic, which is insanely difficult. But Latin is something I can talk in, so being the lazy person that I am, Latin it is. It makes sense, too. It's just not 100%.))
Chapter 3
Here Come the Vultures
Dorian wasn't sure what had made him walk up onto the ramparts. Perhaps seeking out solitude was his reaction to being avoided. But why, then, had he walked right up to the stranger skulking above the rest of Skyhold's population?
'Interesting place,' he said by means of a greeting.
The other man gave him a once over and raised an eyebrow. 'Are you the Herald?'
It was a stupid question, as if the fellow was trying to play Game and failing. Badly. The Herald had been promoted to the Inquisitor, and everyone knew the Inquisitor was an elf. Dorian decided to play along anyway. 'What if I am?'
'I expected Varric to come with you is all.'
If anything, Dorian's confusion grew. 'Oh?' He spread his arms. 'I'm not the Inquisitor, ser. Just one of the other lucky fools that escaped the disaster at Haven.' He had seen Fenris and Varric entering a door beneath them. They were probably on the way up here. Varric had looked fidgety and Dorian was burning to know why. 'Now who do I have the honour to meet?'
'Hawke. I may have an answer to the problem at hand. Maybe not a pleasant one, though.'
Something lit up in Dorian's soul. A raging, consuming fire. His eyes narrowed. 'You're Hawke? The Champion of Kirkwall?'
'Yes. And you?'
'Dorian Pavus.' He took a step closer. 'You know what I've really wanted to tell you for a long time?'
'Ah … no.'
Without a warning, Dorian punched him hard in the stomach. 'If you harm the Inquisitor in any way, even if you're only mildly disrespectful, I'll hunt you down and I'll make you suffer tenfold for every small and big injustice you brought down on him. Farewell.' He was on the way inside when Varric and Fenris came out. Shaking out his hand, Dorian rounded on the dwarf. 'You better have a good reason for this … this … sentina's presence. Fenris … His stomach might be a little bit tender, if you're looking for a good place to punch.'
Ϡ
The letters in one of the books he tried to hide behind were becoming indistinct in front of Dorian. He'd been staring at them unseeingly for he didn't know how long, his thoughts going in circles around Hawke and Giselle and that bloody letter Fenris had given him right after. He didn't want any of it. He didn't want to be a disruption. He didn't want to run into a trap laid out by his family. He didn't want … he wasn't sure what else, but he was positive that he didn't want it.
'A word, Altus.' He sighed and turned to look at Fenris. 'You punched Hawke.'
'Yes.'
'Why?'
'Throwing him off the ramparts seemed a little impractical in case he did have valuable information. Did he? Otherwise, the offer stands. Or did he come down? I can lift him back up and throw him down, if you want me to.'
'That … doesn't really answer my question. Or is this how you usually greet strangers? I hadn't noticed.'
'Only those that sell their friends.'
'You should meet your father, Pavus. Go home.'
Dorian nodded slowly. 'I see. I … understand.' He closed the book hard and shook his head. 'Actually, scratch that. I don't. Why? What have I done?'
Fenris sighed. That in itself wasn't normal. Since he had his memories back, he had been forceful, angry, brash. Now, it seemed his strength had left him. It wasn't a good time. People needed him. All of Thedas needed him. 'I cannot forget what was before Felix's spell. And I don't believe you can. What I was, it must be all you think when you look at me. A tool with the sole purpose to help you satisfy your desires.'
Dorian licked his lips. 'You clearly don't know me. Funny. I thought you did.'
'I know every inch of you.'
Dorian felt the heat in his face. 'That's not what I meant, as you're perfectly aware. Frankly, I'm not sure what the problem is.'
It was enough. The elf cracked. His lyrium glowed, giving Dorian a warning to be prepared for an attack. Not that he'd stand a chance. 'The problem? I'll tell you, mage.' He spat the last word as if it were a curse. 'You think you're the one that should lead us. You will never follow an order and endanger everyone around you. You radiate irreverence. You will never respect me or some of the people of the Inquisition. I am still officially your property, and that's how you'll always see me.'
'Fenris, desinas loqui. Statim.' He hadn't yelled, but his voice was sharp as a whip. 'You're wrong. I will leave because I am clearly unwanted. I … wish I could help. Help! And yes, serve. You, the Inquisition, whoever wants to get rid of Corypheus and the venatori. I'd rather you lead me because I wouldn't know where to begin. And I'm not trained in battle strategies. I cannot do anything else than follow. That is what I offer. Offered.' He swallowed. 'I'm sorry, Fenris. For how it all went. Hawke and Danarius and even me. I wish things were different. I wish Hawke had treated you decently rather than break what spirit you had. Maybe then you'd let me do something to make this horrible monstrosity Corypheus did to the world right again.'
Fenris glared at him for a few seconds after he fell silent. 'Are you done?' he asked then.
'Yes.'
'You need to meet the person who sent that letter.'
'I don't think so. I'm leaving all right, but I'm not going to meet my father.'
'Pavus.' The mage looked at Fenris, at the calm that had settled in the beautiful face again. 'You need to know what they want. What happened? What changed? When I left, I didn't notice any major friction between you and your family.'
Dorian balled his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. 'You know what I am … Well, once it was clear that the experiment to get me a slave didn't help, my father decided to use blood magic to get me under control.'
Fenris's eyes wend wide with obvious shock. He checked it quickly, but not soon enough for Dorian to miss it. 'On second thought, maybe you shouldn't meet your father. I'll send someone else. With a clear message that you are not coming back, if that is what you wish.'
'Thanks. I'd appreciate that.'
Fenris turned to leave, but before he was out of sight, he halted and turned. His expression was rather bemused with the ghost of a smile. If Dorian hadn't known better, he'd have thought he was trying to hide it. 'I hope you have good clothes that survived Haven, Dorian.'
'Why?'
'We'll have to go to the Winter Palace eventually. I suppose you'll be in your element. If there is anyone else you think will not make this worse than it has to be, let me know.'
'Cassandra and Vivienne,' Dorian said at once.
Fenris nodded. 'Agreed. Oh, and I'll have Hawke kicked out. If there's anyone I never wanted to see again …'
Dorian frowned and followed the elf. 'Not to push my luck, but I'd advise you not to.' He saw Fenris's expression darken and raised a hand. 'Hear me out, please. I'd use him. If he has valuable information, let him give it. And once you're done, we'll get rid of him.'
'We?' A small, lopsided smile tugged on Fenris's lips, more visible than before. 'Very well. In that case we have to set out with him and meet a Grey Warden. Take care the cold doesn't get to your over-sensitive skin too much.'
((Sentina is bilgewater in Latin and was actually used like scum. Desinas loqui is stop talking, and like in English, more polite than shut up. Actually, it's not even an imperative, but a conjunctive that, in this use, is kind of a wishful imperative? Not something you can elegantly express in English, maybe Oh, how I wish you were to stop talking. Statim means at once, and kind of defeats the caution in the sentence before.))
