Note:

Dorian has an appointment with the Inquisitor, but gets to see him spar with The Iron Bull first; afterwards they discuss dragons and gossip, revealing that there might be more to the Inquisitor than just a flirtatious sunny boy.

Comments are appreciated!

Chapter 3 – Rumour Has It

The Inquisitor was impossible, Dorian found. The man had asked Dorian for some research on dragon lore after their return to Skyhold, and now that Dorian finally got an appointment (an actual appointment!) in the Inquisitor's busy schedule, the thrice-damned sunny boy was making him wait. In Josephine's office, of all places. Not that Dorian disliked her – on the contrary, there was something very refreshing about the well-dressed, refined lady who could best even the most puffed-up Orlesian nobles with so much as a smile and a quill. Dorian just didn't like being alone with her, for reasons he couldn't fully grasp. There was something in her eyes when she spoke about Liam…

"The Inquisitor will be here shortly, I am sure." Her voice was warm and melodious. She had clearly noticed Dorian's impatience, and now smiled at him ever so graciously. "Ser Trevelyan had a sparring session with The Iron Bull scheduled today. Perhaps things are just taking a little longer?"

"Then I will most likely find him in the training yard, beaten and bruised like one of the Commander's sorrowful green recruits," Dorian jested, bowing slightly to the Ambassador before leaving.

Only moments later, the cool air of Skyhold's winds greeted him. It was a lovely clear day, but chilly, causing Dorian to pull up his collar and curse the Southern weather. He didn't have long to ponder that matter, however, as his way to the training grounds was short, and the sounds emanating from it could not be overheard. Dorian came to a standstill beside the wooden fence, staring dumbfounded at that massive Qunari hunk chasing around the most handsome, irresistible, charming, and unfortunately also shirtless Inquisitor in the world. Sweat glistened on Liam's brow as he ducked under Bull's heavy blows, nimble as a cat. Dorian could swear the man was laughing with glee, even though any actual hit of Bull's fists could very well shatter his ribs. Oh, the man was impossible... Liam ducked again, moved quickly, and held a dagger to Bull's inner thigh.

"No weapons, boss," Bull growled, knowing well that a nicked artery there would end in an ugly bloody mess.

Panting, the Inquisitor grinned at the massive Qunari. "You called me 'rogue', Bull. Might as well live up to the name," Liam replied, smirking. There was a battle of willpower going on between the two men, and Dorian could tell that he wasn't the only onlooker who held his breath, standing on the edge between worry and arousal. "Yield?" Liam finally asked playfully.

Bull looked down at him, and for a moment Dorian thought he would kiss the Inquisitor. Somehow, Dorian was unsure whether or not he liked that thought.

"Yield," Bull then growled.

Liam smiled broadly, withdrew the dagger, and shook the Qunari's hand. A round of applause and bawdy jokes of the onlooking Chargers followed. Meanwhile, Liam walked to the fence around the training yard, picked up a cloth, and dried the sweat off his tousled hair and bare chest. Dorian, mesmerized, found himself walking closer, almost like a moth drawn to a flame.

"Enjoying the spectacle, Pavus?" Liam asked, his head still under the cloth, and once again, Dorian was surprised by how perceptive the Inquisitor was.

The mage cleared his throat, flashing a coy grin that was equal parts charm and mischief. "What spectacle? I merely came to find out if the Inquisitor was attempting to get himself flattened by a horny mercenary – pun intended – or if this was some sort of... unconventional courting ritual." He leaned against the fence, tilting his head to one side. "But if you're asking if I enjoyed watching the Inquisitor dance around half-naked, glistening in the sun... well, maybe, but that would be purely academic interest. For... research purposes." Pulling out a small notebook with exaggerated flourish, Dorian pretended to scribble something down. "Note to self: The Inquisitor appears even more alluring when covered in sweat and defying death. Need to investigate further."

Liam laughed heartily at that. That caused Dorian to look the Inquisitor up and down, his eyebrows rising suggestively.

"Though, I must admit, the training regimen seems to be doing wonders for your physique. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were attempting to make all of Skyhold swoon. Or at least a certain Tevinter mage."

Liam left the towel around his shoulders, grabbing a flask of water to drink. "I'd certainly prefer making you swoon to having to apologize for being late," he said, acknowledging he had been making Dorian wait for their appointment. "Oh, I do know I was making you wait. Would you believe me if I said that I was too afraid that Bull would bash in my head if I left the session early?" He asked joking, and despite his words to the contrary, it sounded a bit like an excuse.

Dorian smirked, folding his arms across his chest. "Afraid of the Bull? Or perhaps you simply enjoy the thrill of having a seven-foot tall Qunari chase you around the yard? Either way, I'm impressed. Not many have the courage — or perhaps the foolhardiness — to tease the man in such a manner."

He propped his arms on the training yard fence like a giddy schoolgirl, his eyes dancing with amusement. "As for our appointment, I expected a delay. It was an appointment with the Inquisitor, after all. You have a certain reputation for... distractions. Though I must admit," he leaned in, lowering his voice so only Liam could hear, "this particular delay was far more enjoyable than most. Not every day one gets to see their fearless leader dancing around like a prized peacock displaying his plumes." With a wink, he added, "But don't worry, I shan't charge extra for the wait. However, a personal sparring session might be in order. Consider it... compensation for my time."

"Peacock?" Liam laughed. Maker, why did that sound so good? "You'd spar with a peacock? That would be a sight to behold, I'm sure, but I am actually not at all interested in getting myself burned or making the acquaintance of your... spooky spells. And I'd be at a serious disadvantage... I don't hit mages." He smirked at that and put down the empty flask.

Bull's booming voice waved across the training yard. "Hey, boss? You all good?"

Liam turned around to yell, "Yes, as good as new. Thanks. Do tell the Ambassador to put this on my list again for next week, will you?", to which Bull nodded appreciatively. Then Liam gestured towards a pile of clothing near the fence. "Would you kindly pass me the shirt, Pavus?" He asked, his tone reminding Dorian once again that despite all the rebellious actions, Liam was a very well-educated man of good pedigree.

Dorian's eyes danced with mischief as he picked up the shirt, inspecting it for a moment with a feigned air of discernment. "Oh, this old thing? It seems hardly adequate for a man of your standing. Honestly, would it kill you to wear something a bit more... tailored?" He flashed a mischievous grin.

"Would you believe me if I said it kills me to wear anything at all?" Liam snapped back, laughing and pulling the towel off his shoulders.

Maker's breath, could the man be any more tempting…

Sauntering over, Dorian held the shirt out just out of Liam's reach, enjoying the little game he was playing. "No hitting mages, you say? A commendable policy, Inquisitor, though I suspect it's not out of any profound respect for magical arts, but rather self-preservation," he said, eyebrows arching playfully. Holding the shirt closer to Liam, he continued in a sultry whisper, "And as for those 'spooky spells', just remember they're not all defensive. Some can be quite... invigorating." With a wink, he finally handed over the shirt, the tips of their fingers brushing ever so slightly. "Now, do hurry. While the view was certainly pleasant, I do have a report to give, and I've already been tantalizingly detained."

Liam took the shirt, raising an eyebrow. "Patience, Pavus," he scolded Dorian before slipping the shirt over his chiselled form, much to Dorian's dismay. The view had indeed been splendid. "Now I'm all yours... for about half an hour, if I remember correctly. Better make it count," Liam said, and Dorian wasn't sure if the innuendo was intended or not. "Where to? Library? War room?" Liam crossed his arms in front of his chest, leaving the choice to his 'favourite Tevinter mage'.

Said mage let his gaze linger just a moment too long on Liam's newly covered chest, and then, with a sly smile, he met the Inquisitor's eyes. "I'd say the library," he purred, the corners of his lips turning upward in that oh-so-characteristic smirk. "The War Room is far too... official for such an intimate discussion. And besides, I'm in the mood for some... ambiance. Aren't you?"

He took a step closer, placing his hands behind his back and tilting his head to the side, a playful challenge gleaming in his eyes. "You know, Inquisitor, it's essential that we're thorough in our examination of the techniques I researched. After all, dragons are no simple beasts. They require a certain... finesse. A... delicacy, if you will. So, shall we head to a place where we can be more... comfortable while discussing such things?" He raised an eyebrow in a silent challenge, clearly enjoying the banter and trying to fluster the usually unflappable Inquisitor.

"Lead the way, Pavus," Liam replied, clearly unflustered.

He climbed over the fence of the training yard and landed beside Dorian in a swift, nimble movement. Dorian could tell that many eyes were on them, not few of them watching with a certain hint of envy... the Tevinter had the Inquisitor's attention, they would be whispering.

"While we walk, perhaps fill me in on the latest gossip?" Liam suggested as they made their way back to the main keep and the library tower.

Dorian gracefully pivoted, leading the way toward the castle, all while maintaining a rhythmic pace. "Ah, gossip. The lifeblood of any court, castle, or... whatever Skyhold is these days," he began, flashing a roguish smile. "Though, it is no Minrathous manor, I'll tell you that."

"Give it up, Pavus. The Inquisitor demands it," Liam ordered him in mock seriousness.

As they began to ascending the grand main stairs, Dorian resigned. How could he really deny someone who ordered so nicely?

"First and foremost, Lady Montilyet has apparently been receiving rather... poetic letters from a certain Antivan merchant. Or from an Orlesian baroness. Or Blackwall. Accounts differ on the sender, but from what I hear, she's been seen blushing more often than a maiden at her first ball. Though all of that might just be idle gossip. Who really knows what is going on behind those office doors?"

Liam raised only an eyebrow at that, making Dorian wonder whether he cared about Josephine, or not. Somehow, Dorian didn't feel ready to find out, so he opted for a change of topic. He leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. "And then, there's the little matter of Sera and her prank war against the Commander. I believe it escalated yesterday when he found his boots filled with nug excrement. The noise that followed the revelation was quite... ear-piercing."

"Poor Rutherford."

The Inquisitor laughed at the image, but Dorian continued, enjoying himself. "And, of course, who could ignore the whispers about the Inquisitor himself? Seen shirtless in the training yard, sparring with The Iron Bull. It's said to be the talk of Skyhold. Many a sigh was heard, and more than one heartbroken to see that dashing figure return to its clothed state."

Liam chuckled at that comment. "Spare me the rumours about that dreadful Inquisitor, please," he begged playfully, but frowned mid-sentence. "No, wait. Do tell me what they say. Better I hear it from you than from Seeker Pentaghast when she's angry at me for not living up to her, um, moral standards." He sighed as they walked up the stairs to the library, and Dorian could tell there was a hint of frustration in Liam's done - frustration at being perceived wrongly by the public. "So go ahead, hit me. What do they whisper about me?"

Dorian stopped for a moment on the stairs, giving Liam a once-over, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, where to begin? The whispers are varied, and rather imaginative. You've unintentionally become the starring character in Skyhold's living theatre," he said with an exaggerated sigh of faux sympathy. "Firstly, there's talk about your 'secret meetings' in the gardens. Some say you rendezvous with a mysterious lover under the moonlight, while others insist it's merely late-night stargazing. For research purposes, of course." Dorian winked.

"Of course," Liam replied wryly.

The subtle bitterness in the Inquisitor's tone did not go unnoticed, yet Dorian continued, moving up the steps with Liam in tow. "Then, there's the persistent rumour about a secret tattoo, somewhere only a privileged few get to see." Dorian raised an eyebrow suggestively, pausing for effect. "And let us not forget the whispers of your hidden singing talents. Some say you have the voice of an angel, often crooning lullabies to a certain sleepy dragon."

Liam's expression at that was a mix of amusement and incredulity, the bitterness slowly vanishing. But Dorian wasn't done.

"And lastly, the most absurd of all, that you are, in fact, a secret master of Orlesian ballroom dance and have been giving lessons to the kitchen staff in your... ahem, 'free time'." Pausing at the top of the stairs, Dorian looked over to Liam, his face a picture of feigned seriousness. "Now, Inquisitor, while I'm all for diversifying one's talents, I must ask... How do you manage to find the time?" He finished with a chuckle, taking in Liam's reaction.

Liam rolled his eyes playfully. "Wish that I was only half as interesting as they paint me out to be," he sighed before walking on through the library, towards the small reading room that was Dorian's refuge.

He walked with a determined stride, making his way straight for the comfy armchair Dorian liked to read in. With another sigh, Liam fell into the plush piece of furniture, and looked up at Dorian, waiting for the information on dragon hunting techniques while still clearly annoyed by the fact that everyone was gossiping about him, though Dorian couldn't tell what exactly about that was vexing the lovely Inquisitor.

The mage leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms with an amused smirk. "You know, Inquisitor, for someone so concerned about rumours and appearances, you've effortlessly made yourself at home in my favoured spot." He raised an eyebrow, watching as Liam seemed to nestle deeper into the chair.

"Not sorry," Liam replied with a wry smile. "You've got something for me now, or not?"

Gathering himself and moving to a nearby table stacked with parchment and ink, Dorian began to lay out a few detailed drawings and scrolls. "Right, as captivating as your private affairs — or imagined ones — might be, let's get to the heart of the matter, shall we?" He smoothly slid into the informative mode, pointing at one of the drawings. "Dragons in Tevinter are revered but also feared. We've had to develop quite sophisticated techniques for hunting or dealing with them when they get... how shall I say? A tad too cheeky."

Clearing his throat, he continued, "Firstly, it's all about understanding their habits. A dragon's primary strength is in the skies, so ground them. Ballistae with chains are effective. However, they are creatures of magic, and Tevinter's finest have found ways to use binding spells to weaken them."

Dorian paused, glancing up to ensure he had Liam's full attention. He did.

"Then there are the draconic rituals, ancient ones, known to influence or communicate with the creatures. But, as with all things arcane, one needs to tread carefully." Walking over to Liam, Dorian leaned down, his face inches from the Inquisitor's, voice low and teasing. "But tell me, Inquisitor, with all these intriguing techniques at your disposal, which interests you the most? The binding spells? Or perhaps the idea of a dance with the beast?"

He smirked, drawing back slightly, not expecting the answer he was about to get.

"I have to kill one," Liam said bluntly, and his piercing blue eyes looking apologetic. "That is, unless you know a better way to stop the one at Crestwood from attacking an already torn village. These people have faced bandits, darkspawn, and their own dead rising from their wet graves. And no one in that damn country seems to care for their pleas. So, an electricity-breathing horned beast rampaging the countryside? Their problem, my problem." Liam sighed, leaning forward and running his hands over his face in an uncharacteristic display of genuine worry that made Dorian want to hug the man and never let go.

Dorian's playful demeanour softened, replaced by a genuine concern. Stepping closer, he placed a hand on the armrest of the chair, effectively closing the distance between them. "My friend," he began, his voice taking on a softer tone, "this is not just your problem. This Inquisition is a collective effort, and while you're at the helm, you've got a whole fleet of us behind you. We can figure it out together."

"Can we? A dragon that doesn't even spit fire?" Liam murmured into his hands.

"Oh, most certainly." Dorian turned away and picked up one of the scrolls he'd laid out earlier, unravelling it to reveal an old, detailed drawing of a dragon, annotated with various symbols and notes. "Electricity dragons are rare, but not unheard of. It's all about anticipating its moves and striking at the right moment. With the right preparation and team, you stand a good chance."

"This is not something I can casually drag anyone into," Liam objected, his face emerging from behind his hands. "The people here signed up to fight demons, yes, but not dragons that shoot lightening."

Dorian looked at Liam, his eyes searching the Inquisitor's. "Still… You don't have to bear all of this alone. We're here to share the weight, to offer our skills, our knowledge. And, selfishly, I'd prefer you in one piece, rather than a charred smear on the landscape. So trust in us, just as we trust in you."

Thankfully, Liam's frown eased at that joke, at least a little. A playful smirk began to creep back onto Dorian's lips, too.

"Besides, if anyone is going to sing praises of your deeds and dashing looks, it's going to be me. And I can't very well do that if you go getting yourself electrocuted, now can I?" He winked, hoping to inject some lightness back into the moment, even as he was ready to fully support Liam in the task ahead.

Ignoring all the flirtatious remarks, Liam looked up at Dorian, slowly removing his hands from his face altogether. "You want to be in on it?" He asked quietly. "I actually had no intention of bringing you. Chasing Venatori and mad templars, yes, that's your thing, but I didn't think you'd care for a dance with a scaled beast that wouldn't even fit through Skyhold's main door." Liam's tone sounded far too serious for the sunny boy Dorian was used to, and even a bit... worried? Protective? Protective... of Dorian?

The mage straightened up, feigning offense as he pressed a hand to his chest. "My dear Inquisitor, have you forgotten who you're speaking to? I am Dorian of the illustrious House Pavus of Minrathous," he declared with grandiose emphasis, flourishing his free hand in the air. "There isn't a single event in this world grander than a dance with a dragon. Especially when it involves saving helpless villagers. Just imagine the ballads! Besides, who do you think is going to protect your dashing face from getting singed? I may have a vested interest in keeping that particular part of you intact."

"Do you, now? I thought it was the only true competition you saw in that imaginary 'Skyhold's finest' contest you've got going on inside your head," Liam replied wryly, his fingers absent-mindedly tracing the used velvet of the armrest. "Are you sure you'd come for more than just gloating?"

Dorian paused, feeling a little insulted. Letting the playful facade drop a little, he allowed his voice to become stern. "Inquisitor, you need me on this. My magic, my knowledge... and let's not forget my impeccable sense of style. But more than that," he added, his voice sincere, "I'm your ally. Your friend. If there's danger, I want to be there to face it with you."

Liam leaned back slowly, resting his head against the armchair. "I... am bringing Bull. That's non-negotiable. Can you work with him? The Qunari and your people are not exactly on good terms." He frowned again with genuine worry, which unfortunately looked almost as endearing as his usual smiles.

"Ah, The Iron Bull, the pride and joy of the Ben Hassrath," Dorian began sarcastically. "You do know I've been working with him in our various escapades since joining the Inquisition, yes? We've battled side by side more than once. So, while it's true that our respective nations might have, let's say, 'tense' diplomatic relations, I've grown to appreciate the behemoth. In small doses, mind you."

He smirked, swirling his hand as he continued. "Besides, he has a sense of humour. Crass and utterly Qunari-like, but a sense of humour nonetheless. We might not sit around a campfire singing Tevinter ballads together, but when it comes to the heat of battle? We're professionals. And professionals don't let personal grievances get in the way of a mission."

"You sure?" The Inquisitor sighed.

Dorian then leaned in closer, locking eyes with Liam. "You don't need to worry about Bull and me. We'll manage just fine. And who knows? Maybe, just maybe, after taking down a dragon together, we might even upgrade our relationship status from 'tentative allies' to 'reluctant friends'. The world is full of surprises, after all."

Liam nodded, smiling gently. "Ah, yes, the 'reluctant friends' phase. Ours was awfully short, but I did enjoy the banter," Liam said, implying that they had moved on to some other phase, but he didn't specify, making Dorian's thoughts race. "Fine. Then you'll come to Crestwood with us. I'm probably also going to bring Seeker Pentaghast. Need another shield to hide behind. For you, of course." The last words were accompanied by a soft chuckle.

Dorian's lips quirked in a teasing smile, his hand airily waving off the implication. "Oh, naturally. You, the ever-gallant Inquisitor, sacrificing yourself for the sake of your squishy mage. How very... predictable. Though, I must admit, the image of you bravely dodging dragon fire whilst I stand elegantly behind Cassandra, sipping wine and admiring the view, is rather appealing."

"Don't worry about me, I'm untouchable. Haven't the rumours told you that?" Liam replied, leaning forward in the armchair as if to rise.

But Dorian was not yet willing to let the Inquisitor go. He circled Liam's armchair, feigning deep thought. "But, my dear friend," Dorian said, stopping just behind the Inquisitor and leaning down, speaking into his ear with a mock-whisper, "rumour has it, and you know I'm privy to all the rumours, that not everything about you is 'untouchable'. Remember the garden tryst story." With a sly grin, Dorian straightened, his fingers dancing in the air as if he was about to cast a spell. "But, jokes aside, if we're going up against a dragon, especially one with a penchant for electrocution, we must prepare…"

Dorian's feigned magic gesture was cut short abruptly when he felt Liam's hand around his wrist. The Inquisitor was still in the armchair before him, but the intense look in Liam's beautiful blue eyes told Dorian that the time for playful jests was suddenly over.

"Tryst? What rumour says that?" The Inquisitor asked, sounding a tad bit angry. His proximity, his touch, the aura of dominance that his tone exuded, they were all grating on Dorian, eroding his patience. "Who do they say I'm touching?" Liam insisted.

The atmosphere in the room was thick, laden with a sudden tension. Dorian, for all his confidence and bravado, found himself momentarily taken aback by the unexpected surge of intensity from Liam. Still, Dorian was not one to be easily dominated or cowed. He met Liam's sapphire gaze directly, taking only a breath to gather his thoughts.

"Oh, come now," he began with a playful roll of his eyes, using his free hand to gently, but firmly, pry Liam's grip from his wrist. "Surely, you cannot be surprised. Skyhold is a breeding ground for whispers and rumours, and you, dear Inquisitor, are the most intriguing figure at the centre of it all."

Leaning slightly closer, Dorian's voice dropped to a more intimate tone, his usual playful demeanour taking on a softer edge. "People see what they want to see, hear what they wish to hear. And many wish to be the one who's captured the Inquisitor's elusive heart. I merely played along with your questions because it's fun to tease, but if you're asking sincerely, then no, I've not heard any specifics. But would it matter if I had?"

Liam's nostrils flared angrily, but he withdrew a step, straightening his shoulders. The combination of both gestures was confusing, to put it mildly.

Dorian arched a brow, challenging Liam, "Surely you're not so sensitive about idle gossip. Or are you simply concerned about which rumours might be true?"

"I'm concerned about people misunderstanding my intentions," Liam snapped back, his tone annoyed. He rose from the chair, passing Dorian by far too quickly. The Inquisitor came to a rest by an old bookshelf, looking at some old tome and sighing. "My spymaster told me to stay away from Lady Josephine," Liam admitted, and the fact that he referred to Josephine by her first name was a rare thing. "The Nightingale thinks I'm only toying with people." He ran a hand through his tousled brown hair and sighed again.

Dorian took a moment to compose himself, observing Liam from where he stood. He was familiar with the dance of courtly politics, the ebb and flow of gossip, and the ways rumours could be weaponized for various agendas. Still, he was somewhat taken aback by Liam's openness on the matter. But then, the idea that the Inquisitor might have actual feelings for Josephine did sting a bit more than Dorian cared to admit.

Crossing the distance to stand closer to Liam, Dorian spoke with a faux casual tone, "So, Lady Josephine then? Does the Inquisitor have a soft spot for our ever-so-capable Ambassador?" He quirked an eyebrow, a mix of genuine curiosity and teasing.

Before Liam could respond, Dorian waved a dismissive hand. "Honestly, you can't let Leliana dictate your every move. Sure, she has her network of spies and little birds, but at the end of the day, it's your heart, not hers. Besides, if you danced to the tune of every piece of advice from our motley crew, you'd end up a veritable puppet."

"That, or just despised for things I did not even do," the Inquisitor whispered.

Dorian's expression softened as he looked at Liam, concern and sincerity shining in his eyes. "If you truly care about the lady, or anyone else for that matter, you owe it to yourself and to them to be genuine. Half-hearted affections or toying with emotions will certainly do you no favours. And if you're merely trying to appease the masses with a perfect romantic narrative, I suggest you rethink that approach." Dorian paused, swallowing a pang of jealousy, "But then, what do I know? I'm just the devilishly handsome Tevinter mage with a flair for dramatics and impeccable timing," he added with a playful smirk, hoping to lighten the mood once again.

"No, you're a friend," Liam objected, his tone stern. The determination in his blue eyes made Dorian shiver. "And so is Lady Montilyet. I've been flirting with her because it's hard not to. Even you do it, and you're, well, not at all interested, if I understood you correctly. So... Well." Liam shrugged. "But Leliana warned me I was going to break her heart, and that... sort of stings. I don't want to be that kind of person."

It was an unusual moment of reflection and self-criticism for the Inquisitor, and somehow Dorian felt proud that Liam shared it with him, not anyone else. Dorian's posture relaxed slightly, the weight of the conversation pulling at him. He leaned against a nearby bookshelf, his gaze steady on Liam. He took a moment to process the other man's words, recognizing the sincerity in them. There was a warmth in the connection between them, even if it was tangled in complexities.

"Ah, well," Dorian started with a light-hearted tone, attempting to brush off his previous comment, "when one possesses charm such as mine, it's a challenge to keep it in check. But that's a burden I'm willing to bear." He flashed a cheeky grin. Then, more seriously, he continued, "Josephine is a wonderful woman, Inquisitor. Passionate, intelligent, and fiercely loyal. It's easy to see why anyone would be smitten with her." Dorian took a slight pause, allowing his words to sink in. "But there's a difference between harmless flirting and leading someone on. The heart is a fragile thing, after all."

Looking more directly into Liam's eyes, Dorian's voice lowered slightly, "So, my dear Inquisitor, the question remains: why wouldn't you want to pursue something more... substantial with Lady Montilyet? Is it fear? Uncertainty? Or perhaps something, or someone, else has caught your eye?" The playful but probing edge to Dorian's voice carried a weight of curiosity, seeking to unravel the layers of the man before him.

Liam frowned. "Fear? Who do you take me for?" He smirked briefly, but quickly regained his serious tone. "No. It's... um, propriety, at first. It's one thing to have half the castle claim they've been satisfied by The Iron Bull, but quite another to have them speak about the Inquisitor in such a way. Which is why I asked about the rumours. People shouldn't be talking about my prowess in that regard," he sighed, seeking Dorian's dark eyes for understanding.

Dorian lifted an eyebrow, his face a mask of playful scepticism. "Ah, propriety," he drawled, leaning in closer. "Now there's a word I haven't heard in quite some time. Especially in this circus of a castle."

He straightened up and started pacing slowly, hands behind his back, the weight of his own thoughts evident in the deliberate nature of his steps. "But, you know, your position does come with a certain set of... expectations. Not just from the council or the people, but from yourself." Dorian stopped, turning back to face Liam. "The weight of the Inquisition rests on your shoulders, and it's an unfathomably heavy burden. But, at the end of the day, you're also just a man."

Liam rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't I know…"

Dorian approached Liam, the distance between them shrinking, the intensity of the moment palpable. "If you were ever to entertain a more... intimate relationship," Dorian's voice took on a hint of mischief, "do it for yourself. Not for or against the rumours, not for the approval of your advisors or the people." His gaze became more sombre, a hint of vulnerability peeking through. "And if that person happens to be Josephine," he paused, swallowing the pang of jealousy that threatened to surface, "ensure it's genuine. Not just another tale for the gossips to share by the fireside." Dorian took a step back, letting out a sigh to lighten the atmosphere. "Because, trust me, nothing is as tedious as the endless tales of who bedded whom in the upper echelons of Tevinter society. And you, dear Inquisitor, are now part of your own version of it." He gave Liam a pointed look, awaiting his response.

"I know," Liam said wincing. "And you're right... and so is Sister Leliana. I won't subject Lady Montilyet to that, so I'm going to stop flirting with her. I..." He sighed, clearly at loss for words. "It's not like I do not think she is lovely. She is, we both know that. And if we'd met under different circumstances, if this had been an arranged betrothal, I'd have considered myself very lucky to have a beautiful, charming, resourceful bride like her."

Dorian tried his best to maintain his casual, poised appearance, though inside he felt a sting. "But?" he prompted, the word laced with a mix of hope and curiosity. He tilted his head slightly, trying to read the emotions playing across Liam's face. "There's always a 'but', Inquisitor. Especially when one speaks with such reservation."

The Inquisitor waved the question away, but Dorian took a step closer, his voice softening.

"We are, both of us, trapped by our roles and titles. Yet beneath the labels of 'Inquisitor' and 'Evil Mage', there's still Liam and Dorian." His gaze locked onto Liam's, searching, probing. "So, I ask you again," he whispered, "But...?" His heart raced, wishing for an answer that would confirm what he'd hoped but never dared to dream – an acknowledgment that there might be more than just playful banter and shared glances between them.

Liam ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "But… I guess I don't love her. No, I know I don't. Pitiful waste, I know, but you can't change what you feel, can you, now?" Liam smiled apologetically. "If this had been an arrangement, I would have found a way to make it work. But with things being as they are, and if Leliana is right, and Lady Montilyet truly likes me, I guess I owe it to her to end things before I break her heart. That seems... unnecessary cruel." Liam pouted briefly, and then looked at Dorian. "What do you think? True advice only, no mockery, please. I already got the daggers in Sister Nightingale's eyes."

Dorian paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking. It was a rare sight to witness the Tevinter mage in a contemplative mood, but given the gravity of the situation, it was understandable. He took a step closer to Liam, his deep eyes never leaving the Inquisitor's face.

"You are a man of honour, my friend," he began, his voice soft and sincere. "I've seen you make difficult decisions, always trying to do right by those who look up to you. You have the weight of the world on your shoulders, and yet you always manage to carry it with grace and charm." He allowed a small, playful smirk to dance on his lips, a brief glimmer of the usual cheeky Dorian.

"But, to your question. If Lady Josephine indeed harbours feelings for you, and you don't reciprocate them, it's only right to let her know," Dorian said, his voice steady and compassionate. "It might hurt at first, but it's a kindness in the long run. No one should be misled, especially when it concerns matters of the heart." He paused, taking a deep breath. "But remember this: your own feelings, your own heart, matter too. In your quest to be noble and kind, don't forget to be true to yourself, whatever that truth may be." Dorian's eyes held a hint of vulnerability, a subtle invitation for Liam to peer deeper into the mage's own emotions and longings.

"I am... true to myself, don't worry," Liam replied slowly. "And thank you, for your advice. Please... if there are any rumours about her and me, or anyone else and me, for that matter, do tell me now. Let me fix this before the world paints me as someone I have no wish to be." Liam's plea sounded genuine, and it made him seem so beautifully vulnerable for a moment.

Dorian let out a deep sigh, leaning back against a tall bookshelf, the aged wood slightly creaking under his weight. The warm candlelight danced across his face, highlighting the intricacy of his moustache and the depth of his dark eyes.

"You know, rumours are an insidious thing. They change, they evolve, and sometimes they bear little resemblance to the truth. They're like... magical whispers," he began, choosing his words carefully. "But if you truly wish to know, then yes, there have been whispers. Not just about Lady Josephine, but others as well. Names have been thrown around, some more surprising than others. But, that's the nature of a place like Skyhold. With so many eyes and ears, nothing stays secret for long."

He pushed off the shelf, taking a step closer to Liam.

"However," Dorian continued with a smirk, "you should remember that not all rumours are entirely baseless. Some might be grounded in reality, while others are mere fantasies born out of jealousy or desire. There must be someone here you like, propriety or not." Tilting his head to the side, Dorian regarded the Inquisitor with a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, my question to you, dear Inquisitor, is: How many of these rumours would you like to make true? And how many would you like to disprove?"

Liam frowned. "So, this is that kind of conversation now, huh?" He chuckled warmly, shaking his head.. "Usually I am far more drunk, but given that I only have something like five minutes left before people come looking for me... yes, there are a few people in Skyhold I would not have minded finding myself in the sheets with. Most of them I had to take off the list, though, for various reasons. I might elaborate on them if you truly wish to know, but only with more booze, and only if I can trust you not to spin new rumours based on that."

Dorian arched an eyebrow, the edges of his lips curling into an amused smile. He leisurely strolled to a nearby bookshelf, taking out a heavy tome. As he opened it, he surprised the Inquisitor by proving it was empty, used as a decoy to hide a bottle filled with a rich amber liquid. "Well, first, I'm almost offended. I'm the epitome of discretion, dear," he said with a hint of dramatic flair, uncorking the bottle. "Rumours may swirl around this place, but they've never been started by me."

"Did you hide that in there?" Liam asked, half amused, half concerned.

Ignoring that question altogether, Dorian offered the bottle to Liam, the golden liquid reflecting the room's dim light. "Secondly, if you're looking for a drinking companion and a listening ear, look no further. Though, I have to admit, my motivations might be slightly selfish. I've always been curious about what goes on in that charming head of yours." Dorian's dark eyes locked onto Liam's, amusement dancing within them. "But rest assured, Inquisitor, anything said in this room, stays in this room. Besides, who would believe me if I told? We're just two gentlemen, sharing drinks and stories. Completely harmless." He winked, savouring the moment and the lingering scent of the drink.

"Nothing with you is ever harmless," Liam said smirking, gently denying the offered bottle. "But I'll hold you to that promise. I... uh, got a thing tonight, with the Commander and Seeker Pentaghast, but how about tomorrow? You can surely convince Flissa to reserve that cosy nook on the second floor of the tavern for us. Less prying ears... except for Sister Nightingale, of course. She knows everything, and I'm slowly giving up trying to hide anything from her." Liam groaned in playful resignation.

Dorian chuckled, swirling the liquid in the bottle before finally taking a sip. "Ah, the Nightingale's reach is legendary. I've half a mind she knows what I'm going to do before I even think of it. But for the sake of our cosy rendezvous, I shall employ all my charm and ensure Flissa reserves your preferred spot."

"Thank you. Ever so kind," Liam replied, indicating a playful bow.

Leaning closer, Dorian's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Between you and me, I might have one or two tricks up my sleeve that even Leliana doesn't know about. All to make our evening a bit more... private." Standing upright again, Dorian looked at the Inquisitor with a playful smirk. "Tomorrow evening then. Just be sure your daily chores don't run too late. I might be many things, but waiting patiently isn't one of them."

"Oh, I knew that," Liam replied, sounding all too smug. "Good day, Pavus, and thank you for the dragon intel. Perhaps do some more research before we take off for Crestwood?" Liam said, but Dorian only half heard the teasing remarks as his mind began to race.

As the Inquisitor left, Dorian's mind whirled. The way Liam had spoken, the smugness in his voice, the casual way he'd mentioned today's appointment—it was all coming together. Dorian felt a mixture of amusement and annoyance, tinged with a bit of admiration. To think that Liam, the ever-so-honourable Inquisitor, had played a little game with him!

As he stood in the quiet library, surrounded by dusty tomes and ancient scrolls, Dorian realized he had been played, and not subtly. Why hadn't he seen it? Or had he simply refused to believe that the straightforward Liam could engage in such... gamesmanship? And yet, it made sense. Liam was, after all, the leader of an organization that thrived on information, secrecy, and strategy. And Dorian, despite all his wit and intellect, had been caught completely off guard. How… disgraceful, utterly disgraceful. And… marvellous.

He could only hope no one would spin a rumour based on that.