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Dorian scowled at the three pairs of soulful eyes staring up at him. He knew it had been a mistake to let Bull and Caim go off scouting on their own. They knelt in the door of their shared tent beside what was either a very large dog or a very small bear.
“No.”
Caim pulled a face that normally melted stone, but Dorian told himself to be firm. At least one of them needed a modicum of self-control. “Dorian she was tied to a corpse! All alone! She needs us!”
“Dorian. She ripped the throat out of a shade just for looking at Fox. We need her!”
The creature calmly sat between the two clearly insane men. Someone had clearly made an effort to clean it before bringing it to camp, and it resembled a giant version of those guimauves Bull was obsessed with. The eyes staring back at from under that fluffy coat were dark and sweet and--
Dorian shook himself. He had to remain strong. Someone had to be the adult here. “We cannot keep a stray dog you found wandering the woods! After all! What if… She's… Uh…”
The dog, apparently tired of the debate, got up and almost daintily picked her way over to Dorian before sitting in front of him and lifting a forepaw, looking for all the world like a lady greeting a suitor. It would have taken a far harder heart than Dorian's to resist. He sighed and reached down to shake her paw and scratch behind her ear.
“... I don't suppose she has a name?”
As it turned out, she did not have a name. After some intense and almost volatile discussion involving the names “Ataashi” and “Snowy,” they finally settled on the Lady Duchess Forsythia Sweetmeat Fluffbottom, Slayer of Demons. The First.
(Everyone else simply called her Lady. Dorian sniffed at their lack of pomp, but he had to admit it was easier to say in casual conversation.)
Lady proved herself to be quite an asset. The Fereldens were delighted to see such a noble beast at the Inquisitor’s side, and the Orlesians were utterly charmed by her manners. Josephine claimed Lady solved at least three different diplomatic disputes merely by existing.
In the field, however, Lady was terrifying. Bull had not exaggerated her demon slaying prowess. Dorian was just grateful she’d decided to lay claim to Caim rather than one of their enemies. She protected the elf as fiercely as any mabari and had saved his life on multiple occasions.
On the rare moments Caim was unavailable, Lady sat and watched Bull training with his Chargers. (She also participated; Krem nearly died laughing when Rocky was essentially flattened as Lady burst in from the side with a full body tackle.)
Otherwise, she was content to sit at Dorian’s feet in the library as he continued his hunt for any information that would give the Inquisition an edge over Corypheus and his forces. More than one library assistant had mistaken her for an overly large rug until she lifted her head, and she was always pleased with the pats she acquired once they learned their mistake.
(“Really, Dorian,” asked Vivienne after one such incident even as she shook Lady’s offered paw. “A dog? In the library?”
“Of course!” Dorian replied. “Who else is going to listen to the virtues of proper source citing?”)
Lady rapidly became a solid fixture at Skyhold. She was such a common sight at the Inquisitor’s side that no one bat an eye as she accompanied Caim, Bull, Dorian, and Josephine to meet the delegation from the Laplanche estate to discuss a potentially lucrative trade union.
At least, not until she began growling.
Lady’s growl was deep, resonating through her large frame and filling the room with promised menace. The Inquisition members jumped, Bull even placing a hand where his weapon normally sat. Lady’s growl usually occurred just before something got its throat ripped out.
And she was staring straight at the head of the Laplanche delegation.
The weaselly man sneered at the dog, looking down his long nose at a creature some with more sense would run from. “What an ill-tempered beast. I was unaware the Inquisition had taken up the Ferelden practice of bringing mutts to negotiations.”
“I’m so sorry, monsieur,” Josephine began. “We will--”
Caim held out a hand and she fell silent. His other hand rested on Lady’s head. She stopped growling, but it was clear the perceived threat remained and she was determined to protect her master. “She stays,” he said simply.
Dorian exchanged a glance with Bull behind Caim’s back. Their Inquisitor had certainly grown used to commanding.
Laplanche transferred his glare from dog to elf and took a step forward, hand outstretched. “Really, my lord Inquisitor. I must insist--”
Whatever he insisted was lost as Lady leapt into action with a snarl. She launched herself at Laplanche, wrapping her jaws around his wrist. There was a crunch of bone and metal, and the room exploded into chaos.
The two guards accompanying Laplanche lunged for Caim and Josephine, only for their weapons to be stopped cold by Dorian’s barrier. Bull shoved them both out of the way, grabbing a nearby candlestick as a makeshift cudgel. Caim pulled the sharpened daggers from his hair and passed one to Josephine, placing himself between her and the fight.
The battle was brief-- the Orlesian thugs were ill-prepared to face both a Qunari reaver and altus, and Laplanche was no match for Lady’s ferocious attack. His scream was cut short with a gurgle, and all was still.
Lady carefully removed herself from Laplanche’s corpse (with his throat indeed torn) and shook herself before picking her way through the mess to Caim’s side. She dropped something at his feet with a soft thud and sat, wagging her tail and smiling a canine grin. It would have been adorable had she not been covered in gore, and had her prize not been a severed hand.
Caim picked up the hand, noting the sheath that had lain hidden under Laplanche’s long sleeves. He inspected the dagger within for a moment before tossing it to Bull and kneeling next to Lady. He ruffled her ears, heedless of the blood smearing across his cheek as she licked his face.
“Good dog.”