Days passed in Skyhold with some measure of routine. Routine was good. Aldaron liked routine. It was comfortable and predictable. And it made him feel like maybe he was getting the hang of this leadership thing. (Josephine was finally happy with his table manners and had moved on to critiquing his penmanship.)

The Inquisitor's days were filled with meetings and paperwork and reports and plans and losing an inordinate amount of money to Dorian in a card game the man called Wicked Grace. He was terrible at cards, and only marginally better at chess. Dorian seemed to enjoy relieving him of the contents of his purse, however, and Aldaron hadn't been planning to spend it on anything anyway, so he didn't mind. It was also becoming easier for him to relax around Dorian and be himself. Aldaron did not stumble over his words or worry about embarrassing himself nearly as often as he used to. And it was easier to smile at Dorian's jokes and his flirting, and attempt to flirt back on occasion. He wasn't sure how good any of his attempts at flirting were, but Dorian didn't seem put off, so it must not have been horrible.

"Are you certain you're not cheating?" Aldaron asked not for the first time as Dorian happily collected his winnings for the day. Aldaron had learned not to keep too much coin on his person just to prevent himself from going completely broke. Though he imagined Dorian would give at least some of it back if that happened.

"Do you have such little faith in me, Inquisitor?" Dorian asked in reply.

"For all I know you've told me all the wrong rules," Aldaron pointed out. "Maybe I do have a better hand than you. I've nothing but your word on the matter."

"Well if we're playing a game I've just invented I'm still better at it than you," Dorian answered smugly.

Aldaron rolled his eyes and leaned his elbows on the table. Trust Dorian to take an insult, even a teasing one, and turn it into a compliment. "We'll have to find a game that I can actually best you at, then."

"Oh?" the mage raised his eyebrows and smiled, intrigued. "Do you have any Dalish games you can teach me, then?"

"The Dalish don't play cards," Aldaron informed him. "At least, my clan didn't."

"No cards, no wine, no stuffy parties. Next you'll tell me there's not actually any dancing naked in the moonlight," Dorian teased.

"Not in my experience," Aldaron replied. The things that shemlen said about his people never failed to amaze him in the worst way possible. "Although I can't speak for other clans."

Dorian laughed, "Then there's hope yet," he joked. "Another round?"

Aldaron shook his head, "That was all the coin I had today."

"A pity," Dorian murmured. "Though we could always play for other stakes."

"Such as?" Aldaron asked, intrigued.

"Clothing?" the mage suggested in a low voice. Immediately Aldaron's ears burned, he opened his mouth but nothing came out. Dorian laughed again. "I'm kidding, of course," he was quick to assure, though Aldaron thought he did sound a little insincere. And, well, it didn't sound like too terrible an idea, except that Dorian had him at a terrible disadvantage in terms of skill and amount of clothing. Aldaron wasn't even wearing shoes today. "Some other time, then."

"I don't know that I'll have time for a game tomorrow," Aldaron said as he rose from his chair. There was probably something he was supposed to be doing right now, but he couldn't remember what. "Harding's report from the Western Approach arrived this morning. It confirms that Grey Wardens are gathering there for… something. I'll have to look into it. Most likely we'll be heading out in a few days time." It was a long journey, several days at best, and there was a surprising amount of planning involved. "Would you come?" he asked hesitantly.

"The last time you brought me somewhere it rained the entire time and we spent two days up to our arses in the undead," Dorian reminded, but not unkindly. "Never did get the smell out of those robes."

Aldaron knew how Dorian felt about camping - namely that he hated it - but he had grown rather fond of the man's constant griping, shocking as that was. And he would be away from Skyhold for weeks. Though he would never admit it, Aldaron thought he would miss Dorian a little if he didn't come. "I have some business in Val Royeaux, so we'll be stopping there for a day or two. You can use some of that money I lost to buy new ones."

Dorian did actually seem cheered up by the prospect. "Well, when you put it that way how could I possibly refuse?" he grinned. "New clothes, your charming company. Almost makes the camping worth it. Who else is coming along?"

"Hawke is already there, so of course Varric will be coming," Aldaron said. Really it was surprising that Varric hadn't already run off after his friend. "Blackwall wants to find out for himself what's going on with the Wardens, but… I'm not certain it's a good idea. If they truly are being manipulated by Corypheus then it may be dangerous. It's likely his distance from the others that has kept him safe so far."

"A reasonable theory," Dorian agreed. "That seems to have been the case for Hawke's Warden friend."

"Do you think I should make him stay here?" Aldaron asked.

"I think that it should be your decision, Inquisitor," Dorian replied.

Aldaron frowned. What was that supposed to mean? Was he no longer allowed to ask his friends for advice? "I'm only asking your opinion, Dorian. I know it's my decision."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-," Dorian cut himself off with a shake of his head that left Aldaron confused. Didn't mean what? "I think," he began again, "That your concern is just. If Corypheus is manipulating the Wardens then of course Blackwall would be susceptible, too. If they are all gathering in one place then it is likely that Corypheus, or someone close to him, is there to facilitate. I think… That without knowing exactly how the Wardens are being effected it's impossible to say whether Blackwall would be a liability or not. And in that case it would be safer to make him remain in Skyhold."

Aldaron nodded thoughtfully. "Those were my thoughts as well," he murmured. Well, less fancy words, but the substance of it was the same. They did not know enough about Corypheus and his effect on Grey Wardens. Hawke and Stroud confirmed that he could influence their thoughts, but did not know how, exactly. Hopefully their expedition in the Western Approach would answer some of those questions. For now, however, it was probably safer for everyone (least of all Blackwall himself) to keep their Warden away from his brainwashed fellows. "Thank you," Aldaron said, pulling himself out of his thoughts. "I'll let you know when we plan to leave."

"I am awash with anticipation," Dorian replied sarcastically. "Don't work too hard," he added, far more sincerely.

"I'll try," Aldaron assured.

Dorian was not terribly surprised to find himself falling for the Inquisitor. It was the sort of appallingly reckless and unfortunate decision his heart had a tendency to make without consulting his mind on the matter. No, Dorian was more surprised that everyone else wasn't also madly in love with the fool elf. And he was completely stunned that this magnificent creature might feel the same way for him.

He had expected someone devoutly religious and perhaps arrogant or pompous about it, who reveled in the attention and power given them by followers. That's how it would have happened back in Tevinter, but the Inquisitor was none of those things. The Dalish elf vehemently denied being any sort of prophet. He did not even believe in the Maker. He deferred to the judgment of others and shied away from responsibility.

That had been endearing from the start. The Inquisitor wielded his power so very differently from everyone else in Dorian's experience. It was a welcome change, and made it easy to pledge himself to the Inquisition's cause. Made it easy to follow the elf out into the wilds even though he hated traveling and hated camping.

The Inquisitor bent over backwards to make everyone happy, to prove himself worthy of the lofty status to which he'd been elevated. And there was never any shortage of requests, however small and pointless, to fill the Inquisitor's already demanding workload. Aldaron worked himself to the bone, it was a miracle that he had any time to spare for Dorian whatsoever, and yet somehow he always made time. Not a single day went by that Aldaron did not show up at Dorian's nook in the library for something or other. Every day without fail. Regardless of the shadows under his eyes.

There were so many people asking so many things of this man that he barely had time to eat and sleep. Maybe that was why Dorian was so determined to never ask anything of him more taxing than a game of chess. And maybe that was why Dorian was so irrationally angry when Aldaron went behind his back and did him a favor anyway.

He knew the moment they approached the merchant what this was about and felt horrified and embarrassed and absolutely furious. "Is that why we're here?" Irrational, of course. Dorian knew this wasn't the only reason they had stopped in Val Royeaux. He'd seen the Inquisitor go off with Josephine to whatever secret meeting politics demanded, he'd been there while the elf purchased supplies for the remainder of their trip westward. Logically, he knew that this was a footnote at the end of the visit, but that did not change how he felt. He had told Aldaron he would get back his birthright amulet on his own, why wouldn't he listen? "I said I wanted to do this myself. I don't want to be indebted to anyone, least of all you."

"I apologize, but that won't be possible." Ponchard was a horrible excuse for a man, Dorian had had nothing but misery and annoyance in his dealings with him, first selling his birthright, and then in his futile attempts to buy it back. He reminded Dorian of everything he hated about the people back home. Selfish, power-mongering brown-nosers, hiding their intentions behind a polite smile. At least Orlesians had the decency to wear a literal mask, so you know from the start how false they are. "Do forgive me, Inquisitor, but when I heard of your… association with Monsieur Pavus, I could not resist." Association? Dorian bristled at the term. Just how far had those rumors gotten? "It is not coin I seek for the amulet, but influence. Influence which you possess, but which the young man does not. Provided, of course, you… desire the amulet? For your friend?"

"Aren't you a merchant? Why not just sell it back?" Aldaron asked. Dorian almost scoffed. The Inquisitor was still naïve to these sorts of politics. Had he really thought to just walk in here and unload the Inquisition's treasuries on this man and get Dorian's amulet back easy as that? No, that was unfair of him. Of course the elf wouldn't understand the importance and power a stupid piece of jewelry could have. Not that emptying the Inquisition's treasuries for Dorian's sake would have been any better.

"I am not a fence, monsieur. I only bought your friend's amulet because of what it is," Ponchard explained patiently. "I do business in the Imperium. Having a birthright, even one not your own, is most useful in… select situations."

"He's got the right of it there," Dorian grumbled. And it infuriated him more to know that this man would use his birthright to engage in clandestine dealings.

"That is why I gave the young man so much. If he relinquished it, how is that my doing?" the merchant asked innocently.

"You want something from me," Aldaron said. A bit slow on the uptake sometimes, but the Inquisitor was not stupid. "What would you like?"

Even behind his mask Dorian could see the man smile. Disgusting. "The League de Celestine is an organization of wealthy noblemen in Orlais. I would join, but I lack the lineage. If someone like you applied pressure, they would admit me. That would be worth the return of the amulet."

Of course. Then he would have enough standing that he wouldn't need the birthright. Another sniveling bottom feeder trying to pry his way into power.

"What do you think, Dorian?"

He was actually surprised when Aldaron asked his opinion. He'd been convinced that the Inquisitor was just going to plow through and give no thought to Dorian's feelings on the matter. He looked earnest, though, like he actually did care. That didn't change the facts of the matter, though. "Leave the man be," Dorian said stiffly. "I got myself into this, I should get myself out of it."

"Perhaps you should accept your friend's help, monsieur," Ponchard interjected, quite unwelcome.

"Kaffas!" Dorian swore, and scowled at the man. "I know what you think, and he's not my friend, he's…" Dorian cut himself off. He's what? More than a friend, but what? Some flirting and a few kisses didn't a lover make. Not that he could possibly say that here in public, regardless. The rumors were bad enough as it was. Dorian chanced a nervous glance at Aldaron and knew immediately that he had messed up and there would be no saving this. The elf's brow was furrowed. He was angry. Hurt? "Never mind what he is," Dorian finished curtly.

"As you desire," Ponchard sniffed. Dorian wanted to claw that damn smirk off his smug face. "Even so, that is the price. I shall accept no other."

"Very well. I'll do as you ask."

"What?" Dorian couldn't contain his shock. After all that Aldaron was still going to do this? Surely even he could see what a sniveling degenerate this man was? "You're going to give in to this cretin?"

"Do you want your amulet back?" Aldaron demanded.

It was rare enough to see the Inquisitor angry, and it had never before been directed at Dorian. It was startling. "I… yes, I do. I simply-," but Dorian never got a chance to try and explain himself.

"Much obliged, Your Worship," Ponchard interrupted quite rudely, "The moment I receive an invitation from the League, I'll have the amulet delivered."

"Influence-mongering," Dorian scoffed, and turned to leave. He didn't want to stay here and listen to this any longer. But though he planned to make an escape he heard footsteps behind him. Didn't that damn elf know when to leave well enough alone? "I don't want to be your debt. I don't want to be in anyone's debt." But especially not the Inquisitor's.

"You don't think…"

"I don't want to discuss it," Dorian snapped, harsher than he meant. He saw the flash of hurt in Aldaron's eyes before the elf sealed himself off again. He felt a resulting surge of guilt that was quickly buried and lost again under all the anger. Dorian turned on his heel and stormed away. This time he didn't hear anyone following him.

Aldaron watched Dorian stalk away across the bazaar with his heart in his stomach. He was just trying to help, why was Dorian mad? The merchant had made it clear that he wouldn't give the amulet back for any amount of coin, and he couldn't let a man like that run around with something as important as this. Did Dorian really think that this put him in Aldaron's debt? He had never asked anything of Dorian except to spend time with him. He would never. He was trying to help.

"You alright there, Inquisitor?" Although the others had stayed politely out of the way while Aldaron dealt with the merchant they must have overheard the whole thing. Aldaron had never intended to lose his temper, and now he was struggling to keep his composure.

"Why is he angry with me?" Aldaron asked quietly, unable to fully hide the pain in his voice even though he tried. Dorian had never been angry at him before. It hurt. What did he do wrong?

The Inquisitor felt a hand on his back and looked over to see Varric standing next to him. "Some people just don't know how to say thank you," the dwarf said sympathetically.

Aldaron sighed. He hoped it was that simple. Maybe he should have given Dorian some warning about what he was planning. Was that why he was angry? "I have to write a letter back to Skyhold," he said. What the merchant wanted sounded like something Josephine or Leliana could make happen and didn't need his direct involvement. "Then we should move out. Will you see that everyone is ready?"

"Sure thing," Varric agreed easily. "We'll meet you at the gates."

Aldaron nodded his thanks and the two went their separate ways, Varric to round up the rest of their party and the Inquisitor to find a courier. He did his very best to describe the situation in the letter scribbled out, and tried to justify the Inquisition's involvement as best he could even if he was doing this for selfish reasons. Or he had been, when he planned this and thought that Dorian would be happy about it. What a fool he'd been. When he finally arrived at the city gates his companions were already waiting for him. Dorian wouldn't look at him, and instead attempted to strike up a conversation with The Iron Bull. Aldaron tried not to feel dejected, and certainly didn't allow it to show, but he was upset.

Dorian did not speak to him the rest of the day. It took four full days to reach the Inquisition's base camp in the Western Approach, and the entire time Dorian spoke to him no more than was absolutely necessary. Aldaron was miserable.

When they finally arrived at the camp, hidden from prying eyes in the desert canyons, they found the situation more complicated than reports had told. Of course it was. Not only were there Grey Wardens gathering here, but apparently Venatori as well. And reports of a dragon. Why was there always a dragon?

The trouble did serve to keep Aldaron's mind off of his personal troubles, however. Vicious wildlife, rifts, bandits, all before they even found where Hawke and Stroud were waiting for them in the shadows of some ancient ruin. Aldaron felt the rift before he could see it, but the pain was not as sharp as he was used to, the mark did not begin to glow as it did with the other rifts they encountered. This was different. Not caused by the breach, but by blood magic. The Wardens were summoning demons and…

This was much worse than he had anticipated.

Demon armies, brainwashed Wardens; how could anyone think that this was a good idea? Were the Wardens really so scared that they would give in to this obvious plot? Or was this Magister Erimond really that persuasive?

"The Elder One showed me how to deal with you," the magister sneered, extending a hand that burned with red light. It was the surprise more than the pain that sent Aldaron to his knees. It didn't hurt nearly as bad as when Corypheus had tried to rip the anchor from his hand. And perhaps he was getting used to the pain after all this time. "That mark you bear? The anchor that lets you pass safely through the veil? You stole that from my master. He's been forced to seek other ways to access the fade." Good, let him. Let him struggle and search and find nothing. Aldaron braced his hands on his knees and pushed himself up to his feet. Erimond was still talking but Aldaron was not listening. Whatever the magister was doing it pulled and pushed at the anchor the same way as a rift, so maybe he could deal with it the same way. Pushing past the pain he thrust his hand forward and was rewarded as the power of the anchor broke Erimond's spell and sent the magister tumbling backward onto the stones.

Erimond turned and fled, Aldaron attempted to follow but the demons and the Wardens blocked his path and by the time they were dealt with the man was gone.

"Are you alright?" Dorian was at his side suddenly, face lined with real concern that startled Aldaron a little. Was Dorian not mad at him anymore?

"Yes, I'm fine," the Inquisitor assured. He did not think he was injured.

"What was he trying to do to your hand?"

Aldaron looked down at the hand in question, turning it over to look at his palm, but the mark was inactive again, little more than a scar. "I… I'm not certain. It felt like when Corypheus tried to remove it, but not as strong."

"Perhaps he was just trying to incapacitate you," Dorian hummed thoughtfully and frowned down at Aldaron' hand.

The elf felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny and quickly let his hand fall back to his side. "Obviously it didn't work," he commented. "I may be learning how to control it. I was able to break his spell." He didn't know how, though. Perhaps the mark had done that on its own.

"Fascinating," Dorian murmured, "Although a bit concerning as well, if you think about it. It doesn't hurt anymore, does it?"

"It's fine now," Aldaron assured him. At least as fine as it ever was, but Dorian didn't need to know that it ached constantly. That wasn't a conversation he wanted to have right now. Or ever.

"Good," Dorian almost sounded relieved. And Aldaron was confused because the man had barely spoken to him for the past few days. "I wouldn't want you hurt."

Were they back to normal? Just like that? Aldaron couldn't tell. This was the most affection Dorian ever showed in public, and Aldaron didn't know how to ask.

"I believe I know where the Wardens are, Your Worship," Stroud interrupted, drawing the Inquisitor's attention. This wasn't the time to be worrying about his personal life, Aldaron reminded himself. "Erimond fled in that direction," he pointed, and Aldaron glanced into the distance, but there was already no sign of the magister. "There's an abandoned Warden fortress that way. Adamant."

Of course. They had to have a command post somewhere nearby. "Good thinking," the Inquisitor replied.

"Stroud and I will scout out Adamant and confirm that the other Wardens are there," Hawke offered. "We'll meet you back at Skyhold."

Aldaron nodded and wished them luck as the two men took their leave. Then he glanced back at Dorian, who was already examining the ruins with interest. He shook his head. Now wasn't the time. There were still more important things to do. Like deal with those Venatori.

They were away from Skyhold for nearly three weeks. Dorian did not seem to be angry at him anymore, was back to his usual good humor, but there was no time to talk about the state of their relationship between fighting Venatori, sealing rifts, and dodging darkspawn. This left their interactions somewhat awkward because Aldaron did not know where he stood. So he didn't flirt. He didn't smile. He begged exhaustion at camp every night and went to sleep shortly after dinner. Avoiding the problem would not make it better, but Aldaron did not know how to broach the subject, and he didn't want to do it while they were on the road anyway. Waiting might just make it worse, though.

Aldaron rode into the courtyard dusty and a little bit sunburned and glad to be back. If he never had to go to the desert again he would be perfectly fine with that, but he knew he wouldn't be so lucky.

All three of his advisors appeared to welcome them back. Aldaron wasn't surprised, though just once he would like to bathe and eat before being forced right back to work. "Is there any word from Hawke and Stroud yet?" he asked after greetings were exchanged.

"A message arrived yesterday. They have confirmed that Wardens are occupying Adamant Fortress and are on their way back to Skyhold now," Leliana reported dutifully.

"From your reports, I don't believe we'll be able to reason with the Wardens," Cullen added. "It's likely that we will have to use force to stop them completing their plan."

Aldaron had been afraid of that. With many of their mages and possible the Warden-Commander herself under Corypheus' direct control it would be nigh impossible to reason with them. They wouldn't know the full extent of the situation until Hawke returned, however. "Then we will have to attack the fortress?" he asked, though he already knew the answer. "Do we have the forces for such an assault?"

"We do," Cullen assured him, "And we can begin planning immediately."

"Very well," Aldaron sighed. "Do what you can, and let me know when Hawke arrives, hopefully he'll know what we can expect."

"If we know what to expect, then we'll know how to deal with it," Cullen said confidently.

That was Aldaron's hope. He knew nothing of war, certainly nothing of storming fortresses. It was a daunting prospect and he wouldn't even know where to start plans for such an endeavor. For this, he would have to trust Cullen's judgment and experience, though the Commander hadn't given him any reason to doubt so far. "Is there anything else?"

"Inquisitor, the matter you had me look into while you were away," Josephine said in a low voice, eyes flicking toward Dorian, who was too wrapped up in his conversation with Varric to notice, "It's been settled. You'll find the package on your desk."

Aldaron's heart leapt, and then froze for a moment as he also glanced surreptitiously at Dorian. "Thank you," he replied automatically.

"Of course," Josephine nodded, "I'm certain he'll be happy to have it back."

"I hope so," Aldaron murmured. He had his doubts, after the way Dorian had reacted in Val Royeaux. "If you'll excuse me," he said, and quickly made his escape. Just as promised there was a small paper wrapped package on his desk, atop the pile of reports that had stacked up while he was away but those didn't matter now. He snatched up the package immediately and tore it open. There it was; just a stupid little trinket, a piece of jewelry really. All this trouble over a necklace.

He had it now, there was no going back. Either he gave it to Dorian or he kept it himself. Neither option sounded very good at the moment. He needed to think.

After a bath and a change of clothes Aldaron spent a long time sitting at a table in the tavern – untouched mug of beer in front of him – staring at the amulet and wondering whether he should give it to Dorian or not. Would the man still be angry? Would he even accept the amulet? He wanted the thing back, though, so wouldn't he be happy?

Suddenly Aldaron was aware of someone sitting across from him at the table and he startled, looking up abruptly. There was Cole, ridiculous hat and all, sitting in a chair as though he had always been there and staring at the amulet with a frown. How long had he been there?

"He wants it, but he doesn't," the boy said suddenly, without taking his eyes off the amulet.

"What?" Aldaron asked in confusion.

"You have too many people asking you for everything under the sun, I won't be one of them." It was Cole's voice, but those were Dorian's words ringing clear in Aldaron's mind. Exactly what he had said when Aldaron first asked him about the amulet.

Was that why Dorian was angry? He thought this was just another 'Inquisitor favor'? "I didn't do it because he asked," the elf insisted. He had thought it would make Dorian happy.

"You want to help," Cole said, and raised his eyes to look at Aldaron across the table. "Like me."

"Yes," Aldaron murmured. "I thought he would be happy."

"Happy to have it back, but at what cost?" Cole asked. Something in the tone of his voice let Aldaron know he wasn't actually asking. Cost? Then Dorian did think this was just a favor, thought that Aldaron would want something in return. But Aldaron didn't want anything; he only wanted Dorian to be happy. Didn't Dorian know that? Obviously not.

The Inquisitor stood up abruptly, chair scraping against the floor and startling the boy sitting across from him. "Thank you, Cole," he said. If this was all just a misunderstanding then he could fix it and maybe everything would go back to normal. "I have to talk to Dorian."