Aldaron hurried across the courtyard and up the steps to the main hall, but froze halfway up the stairs to the library. What exactly was he planning to do? Just waltz in there like nothing was wrong and hand over the amulet? 'I got this back even though you told me not to, but I don't expect anything in return so please don't be mad at me'? Dorian might not even be here, it hadn't been that long since they arrived. Well, he might as well check, and if the man wasn't here then this would have to wait until tomorrow.

He took a deep breath to calm his anxious heart and climbed the rest of the way up into the library. And there he was, leaning against the railing toward the center of the room and seeming to be lost in thought. Predictable, at least, in that if he wasn't eating or sleeping or keeping himself beautiful Dorian could be found in the library. Aldaron approached slowly, clearing his throat to make himself known. It caught the man's attention and Dorian looked over, smiling when he spotted Aldaron.

"See if I ever let you drag me out to the desert again," Dorian complained on sight, though the quirk of his lips meant he wasn't too angry about it. "I've had sand in places that sand was never meant to be."

"I have something for you," Aldaron blurted out. No need to beat around the bush, better get this over with before he lost his nerve. Dorian wasn't angry now, but he might be in a moment.

"Something for me?" the mage asked, "Is it a present?"

"It's…" Aldaron hesitated, and then just shoved his hand forward, holding out the amulet. "Here."

The smile faded off Dorian's face as he saw the amulet, he stared for a moment, and then lifted it off Aldaron's hand. "Now I'm indebted to you. I never wanted this, I told you," he sighed, voice pained but resigned.

"I didn't do this so you would be indebted to me, Dorian," Aldaron insisted, and naively thought that would solve the problem entirely. "I did this for you."

Dorian just sighed again, "That's the problem."

Now Aldaron was confused. If Dorian wasn't angry because he thought this was a favor, then why was he angry? Couldn't he do something nice for someone that he cared about? Did they not do that in Tevinter? "How is that a problem?" Whatever he had done wrong he wanted to fix it, but now he had no idea where he had messed up.

"Someone intelligent would cozy up to the Inquisitor if they could. It'd be foolish not to," Dorian began pacing the small alcove as he spoke, agitated. "He can open doors for you, get you whatever you want, shower you with gifts and power. That's what they'll say. I'm the magister who's using you."

Using him? Dorian wasn't using him at all. And if he was he was much more subtle about it than everyone else. Either way it had never occurred to Aldaron that it was something to worry about. The Inquisitor had never been concerned about the rumors, and he thought Dorian wasn't either. Apparently he'd been wrong. "I… had no idea you were concerned about that," he admitted. He should apologize then, but he didn't want to. It shouldn't matter what people said, Dorian wasn't using him.

"I don't care what they say about me. I care what they say about us," Dorian reiterated. The apology died unspoken on Aldaron's lips. Us. There was an 'us'. "I… was an ass before, with the merchant. It's my specialty. I apologize, and thank you," he said with a sincerity that surprised Aldaron a little, and then ducked a bow that surprised him even more, but made him smile. He had never seen Dorian bow to anyone else. This meant everything was fine between them. Dorian wasn't angry. It was such a relief. Hesitantly, Aldaron stepped forward, closing the space between them, and leaned up, pressing his lips shyly against Dorian's. He was not entirely certain the gesture would be welcome, but that fear vanished immediately as he felt Dorian lean into the kiss and the mage's hands settle on his waist. Aldaron wrapped his arms around Dorian's shoulders and pulled him closer, lips clumsy as he attempted to deepen the kiss. His efforts were rewarded with a breathy chuckle but a ready acceptance.

"I'm going to stop before I say something syrupy," Dorian breathed when they parted. "But I won't forget this… And I will repay you. Count on it." Aldaron didn't want anything in return, though, except maybe another kiss. But Dorian was already pulling away, glancing out into the library as though checking for eavesdroppers.

"You don't need to repay me, Dorian," Aldaron insisted again.

"No, but I want to," the man replied. "If you can do things for me without permission, then you must allow me to do the same."

Aldaron could not argue with that logic. "Fine," he relented. Not that he would ever stop Dorian from doing things for him anyway. That might be a nice change from him doing things for everyone else.

Soon enough everything in Aldaron's life went back to this new semblance of normal, with the exception that he spent a lot more time in the war room learning more than he had ever wanted to know about military tactics and troop movements and siege weapons. It came to him more easily than the politicking, however. Of course it still meant long hours hunched over tables, reading reports, signing off on requisition orders; and sleepless nights where his hand ached and his mind kept pouring over tactics and strategies until sheer exhaustion was the only thing that brought him rest.

He had no idea war took so much effort to plan. And people went to all this trouble over petty squabbles? He would never understand humans.

Aldaron stood at his desk, sighed, raked a hand through his hair and stared down at the pile of paperwork that awaited him. It was not encouraging. He did not enjoy reading, especially these dry reports on supply lines and training schedules.

There was a knock on the door. He called for them to come in without really paying attention. He'd expected a servant or messenger, so he was startled when Dorian's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"It's all very nice this flirting business." Aldaron turned around quickly, it wasn't often Dorian sought him out, but whatever pleasant greeting he'd been preparing died on his lips when he set eyes on the man. Dorian was looking at him the way a wolf eyed a lone deer. "I am, however, not a nice man. So here is my proposal: we dispense with the chit chat and more onto something more… primal." Aldaron's mouth went dry at the low rumble in Dorian's voice. That wasn't the tone he used for harmless flirting, he was dead serious. "It'll set tongues wagging, of course. Not that they aren't already wagging." Aldaron couldn't move. He was frozen in place by shock, desire, apprehension. He could only watch, heart racing, as Dorian prowled closer and circled him like a shark. "I suppose it really depends. How bad does the Inquisitor want to be?" The man's breath against his ear, his voice low and rough, sent a shiver down Aldaron's spine that both excited and terrified him.

His heart was racing, he could barely think, he needed to – Aldaron took a step away from Dorian perhaps a little too quickly, "Do we need to take things this quickly?"

"Quickly?" Dorian sounded genuinely confused. "By my standards we've been positively chaste."

"It just… seems a little sudden," Aldaron replied meekly. It wasn't that he didn't want to. By the Creators, he definitely wanted to. But he had never actually… Dorian had caught him off guard. He wasn't emotionally prepared for this.

"What is it you want from me exactly?" Dorian asked, brow furrowed. "A relationship?" the word slid off his tongue like poison.

Aldaron felt his heart sink. Had he read all the signs wrong? Did Dorian really not want more than sex? "Is that such a terrible idea?" he asked, frightened of the answer he might receive. Dorian looked stunned, though, opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. "You're speechless." That was a bad thing; that had to be a bad thing.

"It doesn't happen often," Dorian sighed and turned away from him for a moment. When he looked back his face softened and he spoke gently. "Where I come from, anything between men… it's physical. It doesn't go beyond that. It's not that you don't care, you just… don't hope for more."

Now it was Aldaron's turn to be confused. "Why wouldn't you? What's the worst that could happen?" He had no idea what things were like in Tevinter. Certainly the Dalish would be less than thrilled by a relationship between two men, but they were positively obsessed with reproducing. But he had never feared that his Keeper would force any couple apart that truly cared for each other. He knew that, in Dorian's case, the man had been pressured to marry, but he was nobility and they were equally obsessed with reproducing. Aldaron had always imagined that, in another situation, it wouldn't have mattered so much. Had he been wrong?

"You say that like it's a simple thing, easily imagined. I have no examples with which to compare," Dorian protested.

Aldaron didn't really understand. He'd seen plenty of happy couples among his Clan, and later among the humans of the Inquisition and elsewhere. Some of them had even been two people of the same gender. For him it was easily imagined. If you cared for someone then you didn't just sleep with them and leave. Did Dorian not understand that? Or worse, did he not want that? "So… you want to call it off?" he asked nervously, and it was hard to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"No!" Dorian insisted immediately, "It's just…" he sighed with exasperation, "You're asking me to turn into a unicorn. And I don't even know what one looks like."

"I'm not asking you to change," Aldaron replied immediately. He liked Dorian just the way he was; didn't want him any other way. He just wanted there to be more between them than flirting and sex.

Dorian stared at him incredulously for a moment, and then seemed to deflate, shoulders slumping in resignation. "Fine, have it your way," he grumbled, as though agreeing to some unpleasant demand. "I am, however, not leaving your quarters empty handed," he added, a measure of his usual good humor back in his tone. "It's a matter of pride." Before Aldaron could ask what he meant Dorian took him by the hand and pulled him close, arm around his waist immediately as he leaned down to press their lips together. Aldaron melted into the embrace without a thought.

A relationship.

Dorian had to stop midway down the stairs from the Inquisitor's quarters and lean against the railing to laugh aloud.

A relationship. What a novel concept. How utterly ridiculous and naïve and fantastic.

Full of surprises, their Inquisitor was.

When he regained his composure Dorian straightened again, but couldn't quite wipe the smile off his face or stop the fluttering of his heart. He hadn't felt like this since he was fourteen with his first crush and too young and stupid to know any better. Apparently he was still too young and stupid to know any better. Then again, this was the barbaric south, and so many things were different here. Maybe it wasn't such a ridiculous notion.

But if Dorian accepted that hypothesis it left him with another dilemma. Romance. Namely: how did it work? He'd been completely honest when he said he had no examples with which to compare. People in Tevinter didn't do romance. They did arranged marriages and casual insults and sleeping in separate rooms. But Aldaron clearly wanted romance, and Dorian didn't exactly not want romance. And that left Dorian with a problem, because he had no idea what that meant or what was expected of him.

Oh, Maker. He had to go read every single one of Varric's terrible novels. Right now. This very second.

Planning a war left little time for romance. Or anything, really. The Inquisitor took his meals in the war room and fell asleep at his desk. The soldiers were ready to move out, the supply lines secured, the siege weapons delivered. The main body of their forced was set to leave the following day at first light. The Inquisitor and his inner circle would follow two days later, able to travel at a faster pace with a smaller group, and regroup with the army at Griffon Wing Keep, from which they launch their assault on Adamant.

Aldaron had thought of nothing else the entire day, entirely focused on double checking everything. He had never been a part of anything this big before, and he wanted to ensure that everything was as perfectly planned out as possible. Outside the windows of his quarters the sun was setting, but he barely noticed it. He barely even heard the knock on the door or the scrape of wood against stone as it swung open, but he rubbed his eyes, tired after long hours of reading, and looked up in time to see Dorian appear at the top of the stairs.

"Why am I not surprised to find you sitting here hunched over papers? You know it's much too late to change plans now," the man was carrying a tray laden with plates of food and a bottle of wine. "Have you left this room at all today?"

"I have," Aldaron protested. He'd gone down to the war room that morning. "Since when do you deliver my meals?"

"What? You aren't going to thank me for such a thoughtful gesture? Marvel at how I escaped the kitchens unscathed?" Dorian asked, feigning offence. "Very well, I admit it. I intercepted the serving girl at the door. It was nothing but a happy accident, so don't get your hopes up for a repeat performance." He set the tray down on the small table beside the sofa and sat down, arranging himself with a casual elegance. "Come now, have you eaten anything at all today, or have you been too wrapped up in Inquisiting?"

Aldaron was all too happy to put his work aside for a while if it promised time alone with Dorian. He regretted that he had been too busy to even hold a proper conversation with him after the last time the mage had shown up in his room. "I may have lost track of the time," he admitted as he stood from the desk and crossed the room, stretching his back as he did and trying not to blush at the way Dorian's eyes raked over his form.

"It's a good thing you have me, then," Dorian replied. "We can't have the Inquisitor starving to death because he was too busy to eat, can we?" He patted the spot on the sofa beside him and Aldaron happily accepted the seat, moving close enough that their thighs brushed together.

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to see you lately," Aldaron said guiltily.

The man merely shrugged and reached for the bottle of wine. If he was bothered at all it did not show. "It's understandable, I assure you. Although I do rather miss watching you run about. It's a very nice view; for me at least." When he got the cork free of the wine bottle he sniffed at it curiously, "Oh, so there is good wine to be found here. I'll have to dine with you more often."

"I certainly wouldn't mind," Aldaron replied. That sounded nice, actually.

"Of course you wouldn't," Dorian grinned. "Who wouldn't want to have dinner with me? I'm a delight at parties. I am, however, not terribly adept at planning thoughtful gestures, because if I had actually planned this there would be two glasses here instead of just one."

"We can share," Aldaron suggested easily. "Or do without the glass entirely."

Dorian raised an eyebrow curiously as he looked over at him. "Is that how your people drink? Straight from the bottle like barbarians? I like it." He gave Aldaron a cheeky grin and raised the bottle to his lips, drinking some before offering it to the elf, who accepted it and repeated the gesture. The wine was very good, but the true quality was probably lost on Aldaron. A lot of the effort that went into his meals was probably lost on Aldaron. They were very good, but he probably would have been just as happy with whatever the tavern was serving or whatever the soldiers were eating in their camp down the mountain.

Perhaps it was finally being able to relax, or perhaps he'd had a little too much wine, but as they shared the meal Aldaron found himself leaning more and more heavily against Dorian's side. Of course it probably didn't help that he had to lean across the man to reach any of the food. By the time the wine was gone he was feeling pleasantly buzzed and was practically sitting in Dorian's lap, pressed close against his side with the man's arm around his shoulders. Stomach full and mind fuzzy he laid his head against Dorian's shoulder and sighed happily.

"Do you always turn into a housecat when you're drunk, or just with me?" Dorian asked, amusement in his voice.

"I'm not drunk," Aldaron protested, but didn't move. Dorian smelled nice.

"Not yet," Dorian chuckled. "I could call for more wine, if you like."

Aldaron shook his head as best he could with his cheek pressed against Dorian's shoulder. He was happy like this; tipsy enough that he wasn't shy but still sober enough to think clearly. After a moment he lifted his head and pressed a kiss to the corner of Dorian's mouth. He felt the man's lips quirk into a smile under his, then Dorian turned his head just enough to kiss him properly. Aldaron kissed him back eagerly, with none of the hesitation that usually hindered him, shifting on the sofa to try and find a more comfortable position. Dorian caught on to his intentions quickly and turned, a hand on Aldaron's waist and another on his thigh as he eased him back against the arm of the sofa. They settled there comfortably, Aldaron resting back against the plush fabric and Dorian poised above him, one knee carefully settled between the elf's legs.

"Where exactly are we going with this, amatus?" Dorian breathed, peppering kisses along the elf's jaw.

It didn't escape Aldaron's notice that it had only been a few days since he had turned down Dorian's attentions. That hadn't been for a lack of desire on his part, only a lack of preparedness. "I… don't know," Aldaron admitted softly. He didn't want to admit that he was a little bit nervous. He looked away but Dorian wasn't paying attention to his face anyway, his lips had moved down to Aldaron's neck. "I've never actually…" he trailed off, too embarrassed to finish the sentence.

The reaction was immediate. Dorian stilled, then drew back, looking down at him though Aldaron could not meet his eyes. "Is that all?" he asked. "Amatus-" Aldaron didn't know what that meant but he liked the way Dorian said it. Shyly he looked back at the man. "I won't do anything you don't want."

Aldaron believed him. "I don't know what I want," he said quietly. He wanted to be close to Dorian, to hold him, kiss him. Beyond that he wasn't so certain. He knew in theory how sex worked even if he'd never had the opportunity to put it into practice. Dorian obviously had a lot of practice, and that was simultaneously comforting and nerve-wracking.

"Do you want me to stop?" Dorian asked.

"No," Aldaron replied.

A smile quirked at the corner of Dorian's lips. "Good," he breathed, "Let's move this somewhere more comfortable, then."

Aldaron nodded mutely and watched as Dorian climbed off the sofa. He took Aldaron's hands and pulled the elf to his feet as well. Then Dorian's mouth was on his again, hands on his waist and pushing him gently back toward the bed. As if of their own volition his hands moved around Dorian's shoulders and pulled him closer. The back of his legs met the side of the bed and Aldaron fell back onto it, pulling Dorian down with him. He was nervous, heart thundering in his chest, but he didn't want to be parted from the man.

The pair scrabbled further up the bed, lips barely parting until Aldaron was resting against the pillows. Then Dorian's hands were running up his sides, undoing the clasps on his shirt, mouth on his jaw and his neck. Aldaron let his head fall back, body arching unconsciously into every touch.

Dorian had gotten his shirt completely open before Aldaron even realized it was happening and slipped his hands inside the fabric to caress the elf's chest, ribs, stomach, hips, anything they could reach. Aldaron squirmed under the attention, let out a sigh of pleasure when fingertips ran lightly over a particularly sensitive spot. Emboldened somewhat by the wine and by Dorian's easy acceptance of his innocence in these matters, Aldaron tried removing the mage's clothes, only to be thwarted by layers of fabric and unfamiliar clasps. "How do your clothes even work?" he asked breathlessly, tugging futilely on a leather strap.

Dorian laughed lightly as he pulled away enough to look down at Aldaron's hands. "The great Inquisitor foiled by buckles?" he teased, but sat back on his heels and began stripping off the layers of his robes. Aldaron propped himself up on his elbows to watch. "Enjoying the show?" the mage asked when he noticed.

"Immensely," Aldaron replied, and then blushed all the way up to the tips of his ears when he realized what he just said. The filter between his brain and his mouth never seemed to work when he was with Dorian, and now it was gone entirely. Luckily the mage seemed to think it was charming, or at least amusing. He laughed again and shucked his shirt off onto the floor before leaning down to kiss Aldaron again. The elf returned the gesture readily, shrugging off his shirt as well. Arms free at last, Aldaron reached out for Dorian. His hands lingered on the man's sides, on his shoulders. Dorian was not really a large man – not when compared to soldiers at least – but he was larger than Aldaron. Wider, more muscular. Aldaron knew he was physically stronger than the mage, but he certainly did not look it. Dorian was built very differently from an elf. Aldaron liked it. Liked that he could feel the flex of the man's muscles as he ran his hands over his chest, liked the scratch of facial hair against his skin.

Well it wasn't the most surprising development in his life. In fact, in the midst of everything else falling for Dorian felt refreshingly normal.

"What are you thinking about so intently up there?" Dorian's voice startled Aldaron out of his thoughts and he looked down to where the man was poised over his chest.

"You," Aldaron replied honestly.

Dorian let out a bark of laughter. "Well, I suppose I can't complain about that," he commented, "But if you can think at all I must not be doing a good enough job."

"Then by all means," Aldaron invited, though he felt his face heat up again.

"First we'll have to get rid of these," Dorian said, and crawled down the bed to start unlacing Aldaron's boots. The elf leaned forward to help, quickly untying one while Dorian worked on the other. When it was loose enough he kicked the boot off the end of the bed where it landed on the floor with a thunk. "Goodness," Dorian smirked as he pulled off the other boot and tossed it off with its partner, "Someone is impatient."

"I don't like shoes," Aldaron replied, though it would be a lie to say that was the only reason he wanted them off.

"I have noticed your penchant for barefootedness," Dorian mused, "Is that an elf thing?"

"If you're really interested I'll tell you all about it, later," Aldaron said, "You promised to make me stop thinking." And he was curious, though apprehensive, to see what the man intended.

"That I did," Dorian agreed. His hands went immediately to the waist of Aldaron's breeches and began undoing the ties that held them on. "These will have to go as well."

Aldaron felt suddenly a little frightened, but he pushed it down as he lifted his hips to help wriggle out of his pants when Dorian had the ties loose. Still, he felt embarrassingly exposed as the fabric slipped down over his hips. He opened his mouth to say something but never got the chance. His pants were gone and Dorian's head was between his legs and the only sound that escaped his lips was a surprised moan. This was unexpected. But good. Very good. His hands twisted in the sheets below him while Dorian's mouth and hands continued to work absolute wonders. It was getting very difficult to think straight. At least it was difficult to think about anything other than what Dorian was doing with his tongue. Aldaron bit his lip and tried to choke back a moan that forced itself out as a low whine. He felt more than heard Dorian's soft laughter against his hip. It made him squirm in embarrassment. Dorian's hands settled on his thighs, pressing them apart and holding him down, took the elf deeper into his mouth. Aldaron squeezed his eyes shut, gasped, arched into the sensations. He tried to stay quiet but was doing a really terrible job of it. Every touch, every kiss, every swipe of tongue sent lightning down his spine, coiling tight and hot in his stomach until he could not contain it any longer. Head thrown back against the pillows he moaned as the release washed over him. It left him feeling momentarily dazed, flushed and panting and more relaxed than he had been in months.

Soft kisses against his cheek roused Aldaron back to the present. He opened his eyes to find Dorian smiling down at him, hair mussed though Aldaron couldn't remember touching it. "Did you stop thinking?" he asked cheekily.

"I may never think again," Aldaron replied, mind still clouded in a haze of pleasure. Dorian grinned and kissed him again. The elf looped his arms around Dorian's shoulders and kissed back, sloppy but no less enthusiastic. But as his thoughts began to clear again Aldaron realized Dorian was probably expecting some sort of reciprocation. Nothing he could do would be as good as that, though, Aldaron was certain. He let his hands trail down Dorian's chest, not entirely able to stop the way they trembled a little upon reaching the waist of the man's breeches. "What about you?" he breathed when their lips parted.

"Is that what you want?" Dorian asked in reply. But he was breathless and his face was flushed. Aldaron could tell it was what Dorian wanted.

The elf nodded mutely. Hesitant though he was, he did want to do… something. He just didn't want it to be disappointing.

"Very well," Dorian rolled over, flopping onto his back and pulling Aldaron half on top of him. "Have your way with me."

Arms braced on either side of the man Aldaron stared down at him, drinking in the sight of Dorian splayed out invitingly across his sheets but also uncertain where to begin. "What do I...?"

"Whatever you like," Dorian replied. When Aldaron only continued to stare though he propped himself up on his elbows, "What are you so afraid of? I won't bite. Unless you'd like that." Still no reply, because Aldaron didn't know what he was afraid of. Not being good enough? Dorian hadn't seemed to mind his inexperience so far. "Amatus, talk to me."

He sounded worried now, and Aldaron looked away. "I'm sorry," he murmured, "I thought…" Thought he was ready for this. He wanted it, but as soon as the opportunity was presented he froze up. It had been fine at first, with the buzz of the wine and Dorian taking the lead, but sober now and with all the initiative placed on him it was not so easy.

"Come here," Dorian murmured and pulled Aldaron down against his chest, but only for a hug. Aldaron tensed for a moment, and then relaxed against him. "I said I won't do anything you don't want. If you don't want to have your way with me then," he paused and gave a long suffering sigh, "Somehow I'll persevere."

"You're sure?" Aldaron asked. It felt selfish only to take and not to give. It wasn't fair to Dorian.

The man shrugged with the shoulder Aldaron wasn't laying on. "It's hardly the first time, I assure you. And you're not throwing me out immediately, so that actually puts you rather high up the list in my opinion."

"I wouldn't throw you out," Aldaron promised. "You can stay as long as you like."

"As long as I like?" Dorian asked curiously.

Aldaron nodded slightly without lifting his head from Dorian's shoulder. "All night, even."

"That's not an offer to make lightly," Dorian protested weakly.

"I'm not making it lightly," Aldaron murmured. Did Dorian think he would throw him out? Perhaps that was what he was used to. Aldaron wouldn't stop him if that was what Dorian wanted, but just laying here like this, pressed up against the man he – love was too strong a word just yet – he didn't want this to end any time soon.

Dorian let out a breathy laugh, a shallow attempt at his usual bravado. "I don't think you really know what you're asking."

"I want you to stay, Dorian," Aldaron raised his head to look at Dorian properly and found the man's expression unusually vulnerable.

"Very well," the man sighed, "How could I refuse those puppy dog eyes?" Aldaron smiled happily and kissed him softly. "But at least let me get out of these clothes, they're really not intended for sleeping in."

Aldaron reluctantly released Dorian so he could climb off the bed and crawled under the sheets, watching shyly as Dorian stripped down to his smallclothes. Only after folding his clothes carefully and leaving them in a neat stack on the sofa did he return to the bed and slide under the covers. Aldaron rolled over to face him and draped an arm over Dorian's waist. This was good. Just being close to him. This was nice. "Good night, Dorian," he whispered.

"Good night, amatus." He still doesn't know what that word means but it makes him smile as his eyes drift closed.