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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.

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A week later I was having new nightmares. Always back in that dreadful future where I watched my friends die. For me. Cassandra, steadfast in her duty until the bitter end. I saw her lifeless body fall through the doors as the demon horde forced their way through. Leliana, the epitome of bravery as she sacrificed herself so we could make it back through the Rift. Varric. Varric who could have been playing Wicked Grace in a tavern in Kirkwall if he’d had a mind to do so. Varric, who had no obligation to stay with the Inquisition at all, let alone follow me into a trap.
They had all suffered for an entire year. They all gave their lives to make it right.
And yet, they were all here, safe in Haven.
Dorian was still here too.
By the Gods, of all the people to be in that situation with. At first I’d thought that was all part of the trap. Sneak him in as a spy, then separate me from my allies and get me alone with him so he could finish me off.
Standing waist deep in water, surrounded by Red Lyrium growing out of the damned walls, my first thought was that he had betrayed us all.
Then I had remembered Alexius’ words in the throne room. “You had the chance to join us and you said ‘No’”. He’d said that to Dorian. Dorian had called Alexius’ plan ‘exactly what he never wanted to happen’.
He was the one who worked out what was going on. He was the one who could fix it and get us home. He saved my life. And Cassandra’s and Varric’s and Leliana’s and.... well.... the entire world.
In those dungeons, Dorian proved his worth. He proved where his loyalties lay. While we had fumbled around that dank maze of stone halls I had asked him about Tevinter. I needed to understand what it was really like there to be able to understand how all of this had come to pass. He expressed a great disdain for the governance of his homeland, even for his family itself.
It shamed me that I had judged him so harshly without knowing. It comforted me that here, back in the present, I wasn’t the only one who’d seen that horrific future and remembered it. It pleased me Dorian had decided to join the Inquisition, that now I had a chance to know the man that he was, not the man I had assumed him to be.
I threw myself wholeheartedly into the Inquisition now. For however much the title of Herald irked me, it was inconsequential. I had seen what we were really fighting. I knew that if we lost this war against the Elder One, nothing and no one would survive. I think Dorian stayed because he knew that as well.
The mages had also joined us in Haven.
I invited them into the fold as equals. I, as an elf, as a man, and as a living being, could not ask anyone to live a life in shackles. The mages had fought so hard for their freedom, I could not march them back to Haven like prisoners. Cullen and Vivienne were less than pleased with it, knowing the dangers of a corrupted mage. Sera was terrified of magic, I could tell, but she hid behind her humor and cheeky smile and handed out blankets to the new arrivals all the same. Bull stood, watching as they had flooded through the gates, with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. He had mages in the Chargers and did not follow the Qun, so I knew it was just a show of intimidation. A warning that the mages had best keep their shit together lest they face off against the most intimidating figure they were ever likely to see. The looks on their faces that day had indicated that his tactic was working.
The following days had been... chaotic.
Getting the mages settled in and everything that went along with it.
“Glad I got this house before the rush,” Dorian had laughed.
Going over every sordid detail of our experience in the future with just about everyone. Telling the tale over and over to analyze what our next steps should be. It was taxing to say the least.
Now things were settling down, but my sleep was still troubled. I had wanted to go back for Leliana. I had so desperately wanted to, but Dorian had been right, the only way to save her in Redcliffe was to watch her die. And I did. When Dalish hunters learned as children, we learned we could not look away. If we flinched, the arrow would not fly straight. If we wished to honor our kill, we had to bear witness to it. And so I watched her being torn apart, ten feet from Cassandra’s limp body, Varric dead somewhere in the hall, obscured by the legion of demons. I saw it all. It haunted me at night.
But it also strengthened my resolve. To honor our kill, we could not look away. And to honor my friend’s sacrifice and suffering, I could not let it happen again.
Tonight I decided I would not even bother closing my eyes. I knew that sleep would not take me, but perhaps wine could. I put a tunic on over my small clothes and headed to Flissa’s.
Sera was there, as always, piss drunk with Bull. He was proposing a battle strategy in which he might throw her over enemy lines to start firing arrows at them from behind. She was having none of it.
“You and Varric are the only ones small enough for it to work,” he insisted, “And he’s.... dense.”
“Start doing presses then,” she laughed.
By the look of him, I’d say he did plenty.
I smiled, I was so glad they were alive. I was so glad to be here, in this exact moment.
I got my goblet of wine, leaving my customary coin on the bar when Flissa wasn’t looking, and saw that Dorian was brooding in the corner. I had never seen Dorian brood. That was more my area of expertise. He was sitting alone, staring at his cup.
I heard Bull let out a hearty, booming laugh as Sera recounted the tale of stealing the breeches from the armory outside of Val Royeux. I decided I preferred quieter company tonight and walked over to where Dorian sat.
“May I?” I asked, gesturing to the chair across from him.
It was something of a transformation to see the mask of a smile return to his face. What could be troubling him that he felt he had to hide? I wasn’t going to pry.
“The Herald of Andraste shouldn’t have to ask,” he declared. I took that as a yes and sat down, taking a big swig of my wine, which wasn’t terrible.
“Watch out, the wine is terrible,” he warned.
“Maybe to a Tevinter,” I teased, “It’ll do for a commoner like me.”
He chuckled at that. “So, the Inquisition supports free mages? What’s next? Elves running Halamshiral? Cows milking farmers?”
“Everyone deserves their freedom, Dorian,” I said to him.
At that I thought I saw his eyes drift towards my ears, truly seeing me as an elf rather than the Herald of Andraste, perhaps for the first time. When I had questioned him about owning slaves, he had responded that his family treated theirs well and he had never thought much about it. It was all he had ever known, as it was for the slaves as well. Was I making him question it? I could only hope so.
“The Inquisition is seen as an authority. You’ve given Southern mages a license to be.... well, like mages back home,” was all he said.
The thought repulsed me on instinct. The mages of Tevinter were willing to sacrifice a slave for blood rituals. The free mages in our company... half of them WERE elves, I didn’t see them being like the mages of Dorian’s homeland at all. Then again, Dorian was not like anything I’d heard about the mages of his homeland either.
“That doesn’t bother me,” I said, “as long as they’re like you.”
He cocked an eyebrow at me.
“There aren’t any mages back home like me,” he smirked back.
“I believe you,” I said and I meant it.
“I never fit in,” he went on, “Blood stains are so hard to clean, you see.”
A blood magic joke was not in the best of taste considering it was the blood of my people being used, but I understood it to be more a jab at Tevinter itself than something meant to hurt me. I let it go and smiled and drank more of my wine.
“I’m empty,” he noted, shaking his cup. “Would you like another?”
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I feigned suspicion.
“Ah, my good Herald, I am trying to get ME drunk, what happens to you is of little consequence.”
I actually shared that sentiment this evening, so I drained my cup and pushed it over to him. “Then yes. I would.”
As he rose to refill our goblets I was once again enticed by the scent of him. Was it a type of magic that made this man smell so divine all of the time? I couldn’t fathom it. The rest of Haven smelled... well.... like Haven. Sweat, dirt, straw, the stables. There was no aspect of him that wasn’t ever so slightly above all the rest of us. Probably why he had such an ego.
He returned to his seat and passed me my wine.
“A Tevinter serving an elf,” he pointed out, “imagine the scandal it would cause in the Magisterium.”
I gave him a wry half a smile. Had he done that on purpose? For my benefit? He might well have done. It certainly made me.... comfortable.
And so we drank. He resumed questioning me about the Dalish. Questions even the Humans of the Free Marches had never cared to ask. Did I speak Elvhen? What was the history of the Vallaslin on my face? What God did MY Vallaslin represent? Who chose it for me? Was my clan amenable to trade with Humans and Dwarves? Did I live in a tree back home?
His curiosity knew no bounds. He had never met a Dalish before. The more we drank the more I opened up. It was not customary for the Dalish to reveal much of their culture, to a Tevinter no less, but the casual nature of his interest felt like comraderie rather than interrogation. And fortunately, I didn’t consider only the Dalish to be my people. I saw the city elves as my kin as well. Their welfare mattered to me just as much. That thinking, as well as my skill and strength, was what had prompted me to be chosen to be sent to the Conclave. I told that to Dorian too.
“It seems we’re both oddities among our own people,” he asserted.
“I suppose you’re right,” I agreed.
At this point we’d each had at least four pours of wine. Or was it five? Six? I did not know. We were left practically alone in the Tavern. Sera was sleeping under a table by the window. Bull had retired to his tent with a local soldier some time ago. I imagined that more alcohol than blood was running through my veins right now.
“I think it’s time I turned in,” I said, finishing the last dregs of liquid in my cup.
“Are you sure you’ll make it all the way there?” Dorian asked. I was not sure if this was some kind of proposition to return to his little house with him, and even if it was, I was not sure that I would be any good to him this drunk. I was not even sure if Dorian was attracted to men, as I understood it, that was not the custom in Tevinter.
“I’ll try my best,” I responded, “though if you can’t find me tomorrow, check the alleyways.”
Wine had a way of removing my seriousness to reveal that I could, in fact, crack a joke.
He laughed, finished his own drink, and we walked, or stumbled, towards the door together where we parted ways.
The wine worked. For the first time since Redcliffe I slept through the night, what little remained of it, and it was hazy, but I do believe I dreamt of skin the color of sweet clover honey.
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An Unlikely Pairing (Dragon Age Inquisition)