Aldaron wasn't entirely certain where things stood between him and Dorian now. Friends, certainly, but after they shared dinner and what Dorian assured him was an excessively expensive bottle of wine the man had gone back to his own room. Aldaron wasn't exactly surprised, but he was disappointed. He hadn't really been expecting them to kiss and make up just like that. Dorian had every right to be upset after how Aldaron had treated him. He should be glad that the man was speaking to him at all, not whining about having an empty bed again.

He cared for Dorian more deeply than he'd ever cared for anyone before. The depths of his emotions frightened him sometimes. He thought that Dorian felt the same. He couldn't think of any other reason the man would stick around as long as he had, put up with as much as he had for Aldaron's sake. But Dorian had never said anything – then again neither had Aldaron, and now he wasn't sure at all. He'd messed everything up. Dorian didn't hate him, but they were back at square one and Aldaron wasn't certain how to move forward from here.

It couldn't be as simple as doing everything the same as before, could it? Shared meals, cards, flirting that Aldaron didn't realize was flirting until hours later.

Well, he was better at recognizing the flirting now. And not nearly as awkward and shy.

So maybe they hadn't gone back entirely to square one.

With a sigh Aldaron fell back against the wooden roof of the stables and stared up at the clouds rolling across the sky. He always thought better outside, where the air was fresh and he could feel the wind. Unfortunately, it was nearly impossible for the Inquisitor to find privacy outside of his quarters. That was why he spent so much time in the tops of trees or on rooftops. Here he either went unnoticed or no one wanted to climb up after him. On the ground someone was always demanding his attention.

Of course it wasn't a foolproof hiding place, especially as time went by. He was becoming predictable, and his advisors were ever so perceptive. They were learning all his usual perches. So when he heard voices drifting up from below that seemed to be talking about him, Aldaron wasn't terribly surprised.

"Saw him climb onto the roof a couple hours ago," that was Blackwall's voice. Traitor. "Though he may have wandered off by now."

"Well let's check, shall we?" Wait. That wasn't one of his advisors. That was Dorian's voice. "Inquisitor?" he called from the ground below. "Are you up there?"

Unable to help himself, Aldaron sat up and moved over to the edge of the roof to peer down at the ground. They were both standing there, Dorian with his hands on his hips, looking up toward him.

"There he is," Dorian grinned when Aldaron's head appeared over the edge of the roof. He turned briefly to Blackwall, presumably to thank him but whatever he said was too quiet for Aldaron to hear. The warden waved him off, spared a last look up toward the Inquisitor, and disappeared back inside the barn. "Josephine is looking for you," Dorian called up again.

"Since when do you play messenger?" Aldaron asked, suspicious.

"Since she has asked me three times this morning where you are," Dorian replied. "So it's entirely selfish, I'm afraid. Will you come down so we can speak like civilized people?"

Aldaron considered it. He'd been enjoying the moment of peace and solitude, but he supposed now that he'd been found that peace wouldn't last. This hiding spot was now compromised for at least the next several days. "I'm coming," he called down to Dorian before beginning his very careful descent.

"Be careful," Dorian called to him quite unnecessarily. Aldaron was always careful, and he hadn't fallen out of a tree since he was six years old. He'd never fallen off a roof, although he hadn't had a habit of climbing buildings until settling in at Skyhold. This wasn't a difficult climb anyway, down onto the lower roof of the few stalls outside the barn, and then it was easy enough to hop down onto the ground where Dorian was waiting for him. "What were you doing up there?" the man asked as soon as Aldaron was back on solid ground.

"Thinking," the elf replied simply. "Why was Josephine looking for me? And why did she ask you?"

"She apparently thinks I am somehow preternaturally aware of your location at all times," Dorian groused, "Or more likely that I was complicit in your disappearing act. She did seem to be under the impression you have good reason to be avoiding her. Something about that Orlesian ball? I wasn't really paying attention."

Aldaron gasped suddenly, eyes going wide as he remembered something. "That was today?" he asked himself in muted horror. "What time is it?"

"Just past eleven bells, why?" Dorian asked.

Aldaron groaned in dismay. "I was supposed to meet her two hours ago," he bemoaned. "She's going to be so angry at me."

"I'm not sure your lady ambassador is capable of being angry with anyone," Dorian reassured, "Was the meeting terribly important? You haven't snubbed the Empress herself, have you?"

"No, it…," Aldaron hesitated and looked up at Dorian to gauge his reaction. He was always embarrassed to admit how little he knew about politics and behaving like a proper noble. "She's teaching me how to dance," he mumbled.

Dorian looked surprised, "You don't—No, of course you don't know. I can't imagine they have many balls out in the forest," he said, mostly to himself.

"I can dance," Aldaron said almost defensively. "Just… not like this. Our dances don't have any steps to remember. Orlesian dancing is hard," he complained, and then sighed. "I should go apologize for missing our meeting this morning. Thank you for finding me, I would have forgotten entirely."

"I'll come with you," Dorian offered. "If she is angry I want to see this marvel with my own eyes."

The first thing Josephine did when the Inquisitor walked into her office looking and feeling like a scolded child was to turn her attention at the man trailing behind him and accuse, "You did know where he was."

Dorian huffed, "I resent the accusation, but please think whatever you like, Lady Montilyet. And in my defense, I did tell you to try looking in a tree."

"Was he in a tree?" the woman asked.

"He was on the roof of the stables," Dorian admitted. "Which is an equally ridiculous place to be," he added with a pointed look at Aldaron, "So I wasn't entirely wrong."

Having people talk about him like he wasn't there wasn't something that usually happened to the Inquisitor, but at the moment Aldaron was grateful for Dorian taking some of the attention away from him. Still, he had to speak up eventually. "I'm sorry for missing our appointment, Josephine," he interrupted, "I… forgot."

The ambassador finally turned her attention to the Inquisitor. She looked disapproving for a moment, and then sighed. "I suppose there is nothing to be done now," she relented. "There are unfortunately other matters to attend to this afternoon, or I would offer to reschedule. Please do remember that I have cleared my mornings for you every day until we leave for the Winter Palace."

"Yes, I remember. I was distracted this morning and it slipped my mind," Aldaron said. He felt very much like a child now, reminded of every time he had gotten in trouble and been scolded by his parents or the Keeper. He probably deserved it this time. "I will not forget tomorrow."

"Thank you, Inquisitor," Josephine replied. "But, since you are here perhaps we can discus the matter of uniforms?" she suggested, and then continued without giving him the opportunity to reply. "I have taken the liberty of hiring a tailor in Val Royeaux. The woman is very highly regarded and we are lucky to have acquired her services on such short notice. She and her assistants are on their way to Skyhold as we speak, and I expect they will arrive in the next few days to begin fittings."

"What's wrong with the tailor here?" Aldaron asked, perhaps naively. His clothes were perfectly fine, he thought, much higher quality than anything he'd owned before becoming Inquisitor.

"While the ball is primarily a front for peace talks between Empress Celine and Grand Duke Gaspard, it will also most certainly be the social event of the season. The Inquisition is a rising power in Thedas, and we must look the part if we are to gain the Court's respect. Believe me, Inquisitor, there are those who will be looking for any perceived flaw in order to discredit you," Josephine explained.

Any perceived flaw. Like his being an elf. A Dalish elf. He supposed to counter that he had to show up looking as far from the unwashed savage as possible. "Alright," he relented before Josephine had a chance to elaborate further. "

"Very good, Inquisitor," the woman smiled as though she hadn't just badgered him into agreeing with her. "I will let you know as soon as they arrive."

It was a week into the Inquisitor's dance lessons and the Dalish elf was showing absolutely no improvement. Josephine was being incredibly patient with him, did not even complain when he stepped on her toes. Vivienne had taken to attending the lessons as well, offering advice from the sidelines and occasionally adjusting his posture.

"My dear, you must stop staring at your toes, it is unbecoming," Vivienne commented, "You must face your partner with poise and confidence."

"Also from here it looks like you're staring at her chest," Dorian offered unhelpfully. The man showed up now and then, ostensibly to provide advice from a male perspective, but mostly spent his time staring at the elf's backside and teasing whenever he messed up.

Aldaron's face turned bright red and his gaze shot upward and fixed on a point above Josephine's shoulder. "Sorry," he said quickly, and then, concentration broken, immediately stepped on Josephine's foot. "Sorry," he said again, released her hands and hurriedly took two steps away.

"It's quite alright," Josephine tried to assure him, but she did wince slightly, so Aldaron still felt bad. "We must work on your memorization," she said thoughtfully.

"Do I really have to dance?" Aldaron asked, not for the first time. He knew he was terrible at this, and he doubted he would be able to master it in time. Inevitably he would embarrass himself and horribly insult – and potentially injure – some poor Orlesian woman.

"It is a ball," Josephine reminded him, also not for the first time, "And you are the Inquisitor. I would be surprised if you did not receive any invitations to dance, and it would be considered very rude to decline them all." Of course it would. So now he had to politic, wear stuffy clothes, and dance. Fantastic. He was dreading this thing even more now.

"I'm certain this is not as complicated as you are leading yourself to believe," Vivienne commented. "Perhaps if there were fewer distractions it would help your concentration." She gave a pointed look at Dorian.

"The Winter Palace will have infinitely more distractions than my illustrious presence," the man brushed off her concern. "Although I am flattered you think my being here is greater distraction than the entire Orlesian court."

"Hardly, my dear," Vivienne replied. "But we must first ensure that he is confident in the steps before we expect him to carry on a conversation as well."

"I have to talk while doing this?" Aldaron asked in surprise and concern. This was the first he'd heard about that, and now the endeavor seemed even more hopeless.

"Well of course," Vivienne replied, turning back to the Inquisitor. "You must engage with your partner. It would be remarkably rude to spend so long in their presence and remain entirely silent."

Aldaron groaned in dismay. "Anything else you've forgotten to inform me about?" he muttered. He was becoming frustrated, and not only by his lack of progress. He was tired of being spoken to like a child when he messed up or asked questions. Of course he didn't know the proper etiquette for attending a ball at the Orlesian court. Why would he? Until a few months ago he'd barely even set foot in a human settlement.

He was certain that his two instructors were equally frustrated. They were just too polite to say anything. Even now they shared a look as though asking what else he would need to be told. It all seemed so obvious to them, a lifetime in the presence of human nobles. But Aldaron grew up in the woods and the plains, not in gilded palaces and high towers. "That's enough for today," the Inquisitor said, more harshly than he intended. "I have other training to do. I imagine Heir is expecting me by now," he said, even though he wasn't set to meet with his trainer for another two hours.

Josephine sighed in resignation, but was probably relieved to give her feet a rest for the rest of the day. "Very well," she replied. "We will pick up again tomorrow."

"Of course," Aldaron replied, and made a b-line for the door, ignoring even Dorian as he made his escape. He'd had enough of humans for the day and it was barely noon. For a while he needed to go do something he was good at, something he enjoyed. Heir would probably be impressed if he showed up early, too. At least as impressed as she ever was, which was not much.

The Inquisitor was not stupid. He understood why the dancing was important. It would be hard enough for an elf to get into the good graces of the Orlesian court even with his position. He could not risk making this any harder by appearing the unwashed savage they believed all elves to be. So as pointless and frustrating as he believed dancing to be, Aldaron knew he had to learn.

That did not make it any easier, though.

They were scheduled to depart for Orlais and the Winter Palace in a week's time. He had to master this by then. There would be little time for practice on the road. So Aldaron had taken to spending just about all of his spare time practicing, usually alone in his room, counting the beats under his breath and trying to remember the steps. And that was where he could be found later that evening: standing in the center of the floor, arms out around some imaginary dance partner, eyes fixed firmly on his bare feet, and lips moving as he silently counted the beats of the dance. He was so focused on what he was doing that he didn't hear the door open, or the footsteps coming up the stairs, didn't notice another presence at all until Dorian's voice cut through his thoughts.

"You missed dinner," the mage said to announced his presence as he reached the top of the stairs.

The Inquisitor jumped, spun to face Dorian and dropped his arms to his sides, dark eyes wide. A child caught doing something not allowed. "Is it that late already?" he asked, trying with little success to brush off his embarrassment. He may have schooled his expression into something mostly blank, but his ears still burned red.

"Are you still having trouble?" Dorian asked, though the answer was obvious.

"Did you come to make fun of me again?" Aldaron returned, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"No, I really did only come to say you missed lunch. Maker knows you're thin enough already without skipping meals," Dorian said. "But I can if you want."

"No, please." Aldaron turned his gaze away from Dorian and stared out toward the mountains. Even after their heart-to-heart about Aldaron's night terrors the elf still had trouble admitting to anything he perceived as a weakness. He knew Dorian would not judge him, knew that Dorian understood that he was learning all of this for the first time. But when he was surrounded all day by people to whom politics and polite conversation came naturally Aldaron couldn't help feeling a little useless.

All of the doors had been thrown open a short while ago in a fit of claustrophobia – Aldaron had been cooped up in the keep for too long, occupied primarily with dance lessons and books on Orlesian culture - and a chill breeze drifted through the room. With a wave of his hand Dorian set the fireplace alight as he stepped further into the room, but made no comment about the cold. "I am surprised that you're still struggling," he said carefully. "That someone so surefooted everywhere else is so… unsure in this."

Aldaron was not in the mood for teasing. He knew Dorian was trying to help somehow, but it did not make him feel better. "There is not music everywhere else. Or choreography. Or Orlesian noblewomen."

Dorian could not suppress a short laugh. "What a world that would be," he said. But Aldaron just pouted a little and Dorian wisely shut up. "Well, we can't do anything about the noblewomen, but is it the music or the choreography that is giving you trouble?"

"Both?" the elf mumbled, shifting from foot to foot and still staring outside. "When I concentrate on the steps I can't follow the music. When I focus on the music I forget all the steps." And then he stepped on Josephine's toes and got so flustered apologizing that they usually had to stop. She said it didn't hurt, but he did not believe her.

"It sounds to me," Dorian said thoughtfully, crossing the floor to stand in front of his pouting lover. "Like you're thinking too much."

"I already told you, I forget everything if I don't think about it," Aldaron snapped.

"I apologize," Dorian said, and stared at him thoughtfully for a long moment. Then he held out his hand and ducked a short bow before asking, "Would you dance with me?"

"What?" Aldaron asked in surprise, but couldn't stop his face from heating up.

"Humor me, amatus," Dorian smiled and kept his hand outstretched. "I've watched you stumble all over poor Josephine for days, obviously it's not helping. Let me try? You may step on my feet all you like, I forgive you in advance."

Aldaron looked skeptical, but eventually he took the offered hand and let Dorian pull him close. The mage set his partner's hand on his shoulder, his own around the elf's slim waist. This wasn't what Aldaron was used to; Dorian was making him the girl? "Follow my lead," the man instructed, "And try not to think too much." He did not give Aldaron the chance to change his mind or protest before pulling him into the steps. Dorian had years of lessons behind him thanks to his parents and the movements came easy even without music. Aldaron stumbled after him, startled and confused, stepped on his foot once, stammered out fervent apologies, and then seemed to find his rhythm. But he was still staring at his feet and counting in his head. "You are thinking so loudly I can hear you," Dorian protested.

"Sorry," the elf mumbled.

"And stop staring at my feet. I know these are very nice boots, but my face is infinitely more attractive."

Aldaron let out a soft huff of laughter but did raise his head and meet Dorian's gaze. The mage grinned at him, and Aldaron could not help but smile back. "Much better," Dorian praised, and Aldaron was not sure if he was talking about the dancing or not. So he stayed silent and let Dorian spin him around the floor, and he did not step on the man's toes once.

This was the most intimate they had been since their fight. Aldaron had been careful to keep some distance from Dorian, allowing the man to calm down and take as much time as he needed to get over the pain that Aldaron had caused him. So they had barely touched, though they still spent as much time together as the Inquisitor's busy schedule allowed. But Dorian didn't spend his nights in Aldaron's bed anymore, and the elf had not asked. He didn't think he had the right anymore, though it was hard to be alone when he was still struggling to sleep. He still hadn't mastered any of the techniques that Solas was attempting to teach him to recognize when he was dreaming and when he was not.

After a few turns around the room Dorian stopped, and let his hands drop away from Aldaron as he took a step back. Aldaron didn't actually want to stop, but he said nothing. To his surprise, he'd actually enjoyed himself. He'd never thought it possible.

"See, not as hard as you think," Dorian said with a smile.

"But you were leading," Aldaron pointed out. All he had to do was let Dorian pull him around.

"True," the man admitted. "But you still only stepped on my toes the one time, and that was more my fault than yours. Would you like to try the other way around?"

Actually yes, Aldaron found that he would like that if it meant spending more time close to Dorian. But before he could say as much his stomach answered for him, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since a very small lunch at midday and had since spent the rest of the day on his feet. He flushed in embarrassment and clapped a hand over his stomach as though that would silence it.

Dorian laughed, "Well, maybe after you've had something to eat. That is why I came here in the first place, and I apologize for getting side-tracked."

"No, it's fine," Aldaron mumbled. "I… enjoyed it."

Dorian smiled wider to hear that. "Then there's hope for you yet," he commented. "We'll get you looking and acting like Orlesian nobility in no time. Speaking of, this tailor woman Josephine hired has been shockingly tight-lipped about her work. And my fitting isn't for another two days, I'm embarrassingly eager to see what your people have decided to dress us in."

"You'll hate them," Aldaron commented. He'd been privy to a few early glimpses of the uniforms as they took shape.

"Oh?" Dorian asked with some concern. "Why is that?"

"Two sleeves," Aldaron replied, failing to hide a smile as he gestured to Dorian's outfit.

The man let out a bark of laughter. "Yes, well they were designed by Orlesians, we can only expect so much. Care to share anything else about these mysterious garments?"

"My fitting is tomorrow following dance lessons," Aldaron said and sighed. While dancing again with Dorian had sounded fantastic, he was not looking forward to another session with Josephine and Vivienne. "You can come if you like."

Dorian looked surprised by the offer, "How could I possibly refuse such a scandalous offer?" he asked.

"Is it scandalous?" Aldaron asked. Clueless as always in matters of propriety.

"To watch you change clothes? I should think so," Dorian replied.

"You've watched me change lots of times," Aldaron pointed out. "And the tailor would be there, also. Don't they have some sort of routine for this?"

Dorian sighed, "Yes, they do. But you're ruining all my fun."

Aldaron rolled his eyes and pulled on his boots before heading down the stairs after his stomach complained again. "You've got some strange fantasy all planned out in your head, don't you? What's so excited about watching me change clothes?"

"Mostly the part where you get naked," Dorian said, following after him.

Aldaron blushed and was very glad that he wasn't facing Dorian at the moment. Sometimes Dorian was incredibly forward, and he still wasn't used to it. This particular comment was also a surprise considering what rocky ground they had been on for the past few days. Well, it was nice to know that Dorian was still attracted to him. "You know…" he replied, still blushing and feeling shy like he hadn't since their first time together, "You have a standing invitation to my rooms. You could see that whenever you like."

"Whenever I like?" Dorian asked. Even though he wasn't looking Aldaron could practically hear the smirk in Dorian's voice. It only made him blush more.

"Well, once a day at least," he replied, eyes fixed firmly in front of him.

"You know, when you blush your ears turn the most adorable shade of red," Dorian chuckled. Aldaron was too flustered to reply. He was definitely glad that Dorian was at least considering rekindling the more intimate side of their relationship, but he wasn't entirely certain whether the man was being serious or if he was just teasing again. "You should be careful what you wish for, amatus," Dorian's voice purred from a few steps behind, "I may take you up on that offer."

Aldaron tripped down one step and had to grasp the railings firmly to keep from falling and hurting himself. His heart thundered and all doubts fled from his mind.

"Are you alright?" Dorian was suddenly right beside him, as Aldaron had been forced to stop while he regained his balance. "You should be more careful, amatus, anyone might think you were distracted," he smiled that damn sly smile and then slipped past Aldaron to continue down the stairs and out into the main hall. Aldaron had to stay where he was for a moment to regain his composure before he could even consider stepping out in public.

Dorian was definitely more distracting than the entire Orlesian court. Without a doubt.

Notes:

Life moves on, plot moves forward!

This fic will be going on hiatus for the month of May. I will be out of town for two weekends and have irl projects that need to be worked on, so I'm going to be taking a little break in order to focus on those. I may or may not be posting short drabbles/deleted scenes/random smut on my tumblr in the meantime, if anyone is interested. Regardless, DDSH will return in June in Halamshiral!