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An Unlikely Pairing (Dragon Age Inquisition)	By : Elvhennan Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 949 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Dragon Age: Inquisition. I do not own the fandom nor the characters and I make no profit off of this story.

Chapter List
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The morning did not find me in better spirits. I dressed myself and realized I’d left the satchel filled with strange glowing stone relics in the tavern. Great. I was doing great. I was succeeding on all fronts in life. Certainly worthy of being at the head of a growing military force.
Fen’Harel take me.
After I was finished sarcastically chastising myself I laughed again at the thought that people worshipped me. It was a good thing they’d never met me.
I was heading through the great hall to go retrieve the bag, which I was hoping was still there, when Mother Giselle caught me. I had great respect for Mother Giselle as a person, though I held no love for the Chantry.
“My Lord Inquisitor, it is good of you to speak with me” she began. “I have news regarding one of your.... companions. The Tevinter.”
Oh no. I was momentarily panicked that he’d left Skyhold altogether. Had I fucked up that badly last night? Or worse, could he have drunkenly fallen out one of the holes in the walls and plunged to his death off the mountainside? Then I noticed the sour look on her face and knew that, no, he was very much alive and she was very much disapproving of that. It dawned on me that I did not think Mother Giselle had ever had a disliking for anyone.
“Mother Giselle, is that a note of distaste I detect?”
“I.... I admit his presence here makes me uncomfortable, Inquisitor, but my feelings are of no importance.”
At least she was honest. Most people at court whispered about the Tevinter when they thought I couldn’t hear them.
“I have been in contact with his father. House Pavus out of Qarinus,” she carried on.
Oh shit. Dorian had mentioned before that he had left his family when they tried to force him into a marriage. I didn’t know the finer details of their argument, but I knew this was likely an unwelcome correspondence.
“Why would his family contact YOU?” I asked, suddenly wondering how they even knew Mother Giselle was here with the I Inquisition, or why they thought her to be the one who could get through to Dorian.
“Because they don’t know you, Inquisitor. I am not of the Imperial Chantry, but they at least know what I represent. These are parents concerned for the welfare of their son, how could I not do whatever possible for them?”
“And what if this is some kind of trap?”
“The thought had occurred to me, a plot set by those mages, the Venatori? All the more reason to put this in your hands.”
I suppose she had a fair point there.
“They sent me a letter describing their estrangement and pleading for my aid. They want to arrange a meeting, quietly, without telling him. They fear it’s the only way he’ll come. Since you seem to be on good terms with the young man, I had hoped...” she trailed off.
“If you think I’m going to trick Dorian into meeting his family...” I could see where she was going with this.
“I feared you might react this way,” she said. “I’ll give this to you, please consider it, Inquisitor. If there is even a chance for reconciliation, it behooves us to act.”
She handed me the letter and walked away. I considered reading it but that felt wildly inappropriate, I could not invade Dorian’s privacy that way. I tucked it into my tunic and continued on my original mission to recover the forgotten satchel.
Dorian’s parents were worried about him. Or someone was hoping to kill him, perhaps an accomplice of Alexius’ who knew of Dorian’s hand in foiling that plot? If it WAS really his parents, and they somehow reconciled, would Dorian go back to Tevinter? Back to his lavish life and his elven slaves? I couldn’t answer that question. He often expressed his disdain for the south, the weather, the crumbly parts of our current home. He more often expressed his disdain for his countrymen. Still, I feared the answer would be yes. And I didn’t want him to go. I could simply burn the letter. Perhaps that would be best so as not to upset him? But just the thought of that felt dishonest, the actions of a boy who had a crush, not a man who had any honor. Of course I had to tell him.
I didn’t find my bag where we’d been sitting last night. I cursed under my breath and then heard Cabot at the bar. He was holding my satchel up.
“I don’t know what.... these... are for, Inquisitor, but ya left ‘em under the table last night,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said breathing a sigh of relief.
“Just doing my job.”
“I think you deserve a raise.” I made a note to myself to speak with Josephine about it.
I brought the shards to Solas, who was sitting at his desk pouring over a very old looking manuscript. He thanked me and sent me on my way.
I wondered if Dorian was reading today. If he were he’d be just up those stairs, I thought as I looked at the stone steps out of Solas’ study.
I thought of last night, being so close to Dorian’s face I could have leaned over and kissed him. How he had disappeared on me. My own face felt hot. I had known our next conversation would be awkward and now I had a letter from his family to make it so, so much worse.
Faaaaantastic.
I steeled myself and ascended the stone steps. Dorian was seated by the window, book in hand, as I expected he might be. I cleared my throat. He looked up and I was tempted to say he didn’t look upset at all. On the contrary he had one eyebrow raised and the left side of his lip curled upward in a suggestive kind of smirk.
“Inquisitor,” he stood to address me. “To what do I owe the honor?”
Nothing? Nothing about last night at all? No witty remark, no explanation for his sudden exit or lack of goodbye? All right. That actually... that actually made this easier, we were going to forget it and move on. I was amenable to that. Still, I grimaced, overly aware of the parchment concealed in my tunic. It was good news he wasn’t upset with me. But the bad news? He was about to be.
“I have a letter you need to see...” might as well jump right into it.
“Ooh, is it a naughty letter?” he jested. “A humorous proposal from some Antivan Dowager, perhaps?”
“Not quite,” I said, taking a deep breath. “It’s from your father.”
“I see,” all trace of witty jibes left him and his voice became as sharp as my sword. “And what does Magister Halward want, praytell?”
“A meeting,” I said pulling the letter from where I’d tucked it into my shirt.
“Show me,” he demanded, reaching out a hand.
I gave it over to him and watched as he read whatever information it contained, his face turning angry and sad in flashes of expression.
“Did you read this?” he asked me about halfway through. I shook my head. He looked relieved at that, and I knew I had made the right decision not to snoop.
“I know my son,” he quoted the words angrily. “What my father knows about me would barely fill a thimble. This is so typical!”
I had never seen Dorian lose control like that. Even when he was being deadly serious in conversation, even on the battlefield, I’d never seen his emotions overpower his curated facade. I didn’t have to understand the details for it to hurt me that my friend was hurt.
“I’m willing to bet this ‘retainer’ is a thug hired to knock me over the head and drag me back to Tevinter,” he spat.
“That would be hard to do while I stood there,” I threatened. I wanted Dorian to know I would be his champion if he required it of me.
“He expects me to travel with Mother Giselle, though I don’t have any idea why he thinks I would,” he looked up from the parchment, “Let’s go. Let’s go meet this ‘family retainer’ and if it’s a trap we kill everyone! You’re good at that!”
His briefly returned sense of humor made me think that maybe what I had said had helped. I was good at killing, he wasn’t wrong.
“And if it’s not,” continued Dorian with a more sour tone, “I’ll send him back to tell my father he can stick his alarm in his wit’s end.”
Though I knew the answer I decided to probe for more clarity. “There seems to be bad blood between you and your family.”
He laughed, though I didn’t understand why.
“Interesting turn of phrase,” he said, “As I’ve told you before, they don’t care for my choices nor I for theirs.”
But I still didn’t quite comprehend, “Because you wouldn’t get married? Because you left?”
“That too,” he growled.
That too? Sylaise have mercy, what else had they done to him? I thought of Mother Giselle hoping for reconciliation.
“Your parents are reaching out, couldn’t that mean.... something?” It didn’t sound very convincing.
“That they’re trying to choke me,” he shot back angrily. Then he took a deep breath and said much more softly, “Don’t mind me. You’ll really come with me?”
“Of course I will.” In fact I thought I’d do almost anything he asked me to, especially when he looked so... sad.
“Let’s go then.”
I nodded and went to ready a couple of Harts for us. The ride to Redcliffe took a day but if we left soon we’d be through the mountains and into the Hinterlands to set up camp by nightfall. The area was well occupied by Inquisition forces these days, it was probably safe to travel by ourselves, I doubted we’d run into much trouble.
Although.... the idea of fighting back to back with Dorian was... hmm. I had seen the things that man was capable of. I could dance with a sword and make a bowstring hum, but I could not shoot a dozen orbs of pure electricity from my chest. Gods, I loved that trick.
I pictured it as I loaded the saddlebags with all of the necessary supplies.
“No horses?” Dorian had assembled his personal pack and found his way to the stables, scowling.
“I keep telling you the Harts are better through the mountains, they don’t get spooked by rocks and bears,” it was true, I wasn’t accepting arguments. “Come on, today you ride like a Dalish.”
I gestured to his mount, the carefully bred and trained Red Hart. A noble’s Hart. I picked him specifically because I knew even Dorian could handle him.
“His name is Ghilana, you can call him Gil.”
Dorian, who’d looked very sullen upon entering the barn, was trying to suppress a grin.
“I’m going to ride like a Dalish elf on a beast named Gil?” He couldn’t hide it, he was grinning ear to ear, one arm tucked underneath the opposite elbow with that hand raised in amusement.
I nodded. The night we spent in Haven he’d showed a great interest in Elvhenan culture, I had thought this would please him. I was glad to have been correct.
“Ha! Quite. Hello Gil,” he approached the Red Hart reaching out to touch the animal’s snout. He was gentle, understanding a creature like this needed to approve of you before you climbed onto its back. When they were properly acquainted he approached the saddle, sized it up, and pulled himself into it like he’d been doing it all his life.
“Are we going or not?” he quipped, quite literally looking down on me.
I swung up onto my own Hart and nudged him forward to a walk, directing him towards the gates. Across the bridge out of Skyhold Dorian trotted up next to me on the trail.
“You said his name was Ghilana, is that correct?” he asked in earnest.
“Mmhmm.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’d be something like ‘Guide’ or ‘Guides you’,” I told him. “I had thought it quite an excellent name for this Hart in particular, he’s trustworthy.”
Dorian reached forward and patted Gil’s neck. “Magnificent,” he said. “What’s yours called?”
I smiled broadly. “Elgar’nan. God of vengeance, Pride of Arlathaan.” I scratched him behind his ears as I listed his titles. He liked hearing about himself.
Dorian looked insulted. “You’re on Elgar’nan God of Vengeance and mine is called Gil?”
I laughed quite heartily at that.
“Of course, that’s no shame upon you, Gil,” he said to his steed, “you weren’t the one choosing names either.”
“It’s better than whatever the Orlesians might have been calling him. He’s still a little dodgy around masks,” I was only half joking.
“I don’t blame him, the masks are odd.”
“You know Dorian, I’m a little surprised you don’t recognize Elgar’nan. His kind roam wild in Tevinter. Left there after the Elven exodus, before the expansion. He might be descended from the very Hart the real Elgar’nan rode.” Elgar’nan bleeted, shaking his shaggy head, he liked that part of the story.
“I’m familiar with the history, and I’m fascinated to meet a living piece of it,” he nodded at Elgar’nan when he said it, obviously amused at my Hart’s display of personality.
“I saw him listed on that board Dennet puts together of available mounts in his circle of trainers and breeders. No one breeds them anymore, I wondered where they got him. Sorta thought no one should really have him....” he was meant to be wild with his herd. He was like me, a Dalish without his clan.
“Well, I dare say if anyone was going to have him, he ended up in the right hands.”
“Thanks, Dorian.”
The trail got thinner and we had to form ourselves back into a single file. Elgar’nan could practically navigate this terrain blindfolded and he kept a good pace. Sometimes I wondered why I put reins on this Hart at all. Ghilana was keeping right up, head held high as ever. I think part of him liked having a proper noble on his back again.
A tree had fallen across our path a few meters up.
“How are you at jumping?” I shouted over my shoulder.
“I did learn to ride in Tevinter,” Dorian shot back. “Maybe not on one of these, but Gil is here to guide me, is he not?”
I smiled at that and tapped my heels on Elgar’nan’s sides. He picked up into a canter and leapt over the tree, landing gracefully back on the trail. We paused there and waited as Gil followed suit and Dorian beamed.
“I think I might like this business of Dalish riding,” he smirked. The dual meaning of his words was not lost on me. I just cocked an eyebrow at him and urged Elgar’nan to start moving again.

As I’d expected we were setting up camp in the Hinterlands by the time the sun started sinking in the sky. Dorian created a fire, no wood or flint required, just sort of summoned one into existence with his hands. It was warm in the valley and I considered not pitching a tent at all, it had been too long since I last slept beneath the stars, but I thought Dorian needed a little more than that so I set a tent for him.
“Only the one?” he asked.
“I thought I might sleep by the fire,” I admitted sheepishly.
He feigned disappointment, “And here I was thinking you meant to share with me.”
I choked a bit on my canteen.
“Is that.... what YOU want?” I’d considered that possibility as well, I just knew I wouldn’t get much sleep in that scenario. The whole tent would likely smell of him, I’d be far to close to his skin, I’d be able to hear him breathing. No. But also, yes please.
He seemed to mull over the idea as well. We both knew there was a sexual proposition in this conversation somewhere. It could happen if we willed it, there was no one around to judge us.
He sighed, looking slightly pained, and finally answered my question.
“I think there’s... too much on my mind for that tonight.”
I had not forgotten why we were out here. I’d managed to cheer him with the Harts today, but tomorrow brought with it a host of concerns.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
He frowned. “Not yet,” he said, “but I will.”
I nodded. It was a fair answer. I was actually surprised he’d suggested he’d talk to me at all. If he’d said ‘no’ and refused to ever tell me about it I’d have accepted it. Some things a man just needed to keep to himself, I understood that.
And so I let him brood. He must have reread the letter a thousand times before tossing it angrily into the fire, scowling at it as it burned.
“You know,” I broke the silence. “I thought of doing just that when Mother Giselle gave me that letter.”
“Ha!” the laugh was hollow. “I almost wish you had.”
“Should I have? Felt... deceitful.”
“No. I am not pleased by the reason for this journey, that much is true, but I am rather enjoying the company,” he gave me a small smile. “And it is good to know you lack the capacity for deceit.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” I admitted, thinking of all the times I’d lied or seduced to get information for my clan. “I only lack the capacity to deceive you, specifically.”
I couldn’t read the expression on his face. I watched the firelight dance over his graceful features. It felt like it had last night in the Tavern, though we weren’t nearly as close to one another. For a moment, it seemed another staring contest, but his eyes drifted once more to my ears, to my Vallaslin, tracing the markings over my lips and down my throat, before returning to make eye contact.
“I appreciate you,” he stated simply, “we should both get some rest.”
With that he stood and walked into the tent where I’d set out a bedroll for him. He was right about that. I laid my own bedroll out by the fire and curled up with the sky as my ceiling. I traced the constellations rather than wonder what Dorian’s parents had done that was so unspeakable. I made a list of things to check up on at the Crossroads rather than replay the words ‘I appreciate you’ over in my mind.
But as my eyes drifted closed the fire made the shadows around the campfire leap and play and the image of Dorian sitting across from me consumed my mind, the most beguiling man in all of Thedas.
I appreciated him too.
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An Unlikely Pairing (Dragon Age Inquisition)