Chapter Text
The wine cellar wasn’t so bad. It was quiet most of the time, except when Dorian was being shooed out of it. His protests usually being met with Josephine’s disapproving stare and on the previous night there had been something subtly different about her expression that he had yet to determine. It looked disgustingly like pity. But that couldn’t be right, if she really pitied him she wouldn’t have forced him to walk back through the corridors past all his fans. Dorian just knew that she must be coveting the best wine for herself, she’s welcome to it. He didn’t have a problem. He just wanted a different wall to stare at, he was awfully tired of the sight of his own room these last few days.
If it wasn’t Josephine then it was the Bull that pried him away from his most recent vintage of choice. He knew that the first time The Bull had appeared down there it had been at the request of Josephine, later he had began sniffing him out for himself. However he seemed to be just as distracted as Dorian since their return from their most recent misadventure, he dared to feel quite confident that the man would show up sooner or later. Dorian felt quite sure that he wasn’t avoiding him, but he had stubbornly refused to share his thoughts with the mage.
Soft footfalls sounded from around the corner causing Dorian to scoot backwards a little on his chair with a practiced ease that prevented the feet from screeching against the stone. He was satisfied that he was merely one dark shadow amongst many, he hadn’t counted on the figure having brought their own light source with them however. No matter, there was no sign on the steps forbidding him from coming down here. They had no business sending him away, the Inquisitor would have let him stay. He wrinkled his nose with that thought.
“Sparkler!”
Ah, so that’s who his visitor was. Dorian quietly pushed one of the empty bottles beneath the chair with his heel, choosing to ignore the obvious clinking of the action as he greeted the dwarf. “Varric, the tavern not to your liking this evening? I’ve not seen you down here before.”
Varric granted him a knowing smile; Dorian’s indiscrete attempt to hide the evidence hadn’t gone unnoticed. He dusted off a nearby crate that was set up opposite Dorian, it sat across from another that he’d clearly been using as a table. “What’s with the fancy set up?”
Dorian’s gaze flickered from the ‘table’ arrangement that would indicate there was more than just himself having been there. “Perhaps you scared off my company,” he shrugged and eyed the other suspiciously.
“Ouch, what did I do to deserve that look?”
Dorian suddenly looked guilty. “I think it’s more what I did,” he forced himself to meet the dwarf’s eyes. “Care to join me? Ah, you already have.” Dorian raised a hand to make a sweeping gesture towards their location. “There is a…. selection. Not a fine selection, but a selection non the less. Better than the swill in the tavern.”
“Actually, I was looking for you. Everyone went to the Herald’s Rest after the ceremony, going to join us?” Dorian chose not to dwell on the appropriateness of the tavern’s name at that moment. The members of the inner circle and the Inquisitor’s advisors had gathered up on the walls to say a few words and scatter the Inquisitor’s ashes over the mountain, perhaps she would make her way back to the Free Marches. The Inquisitor’s demise was still being kept quiet, hence the small number of attendees.
“Maybe another time, my company might return.” Dorian managed to keep a straight face whilst inspecting the bottom of the bottle he held. It was just simply fascinating.
“Right. Sure.”
Setting the bottle back down with a thunk Dorian folded his arms but slumped slightly in his seat. “Is that all?”
“No, I thought that… You’ve been uh, ‘keeping company’ down here because of what happened in the plains?”
Dorian’s shoulders stiffened, they were having this conversation? Lovely. “I’m rather partial to wine, you might have noticed.” That said Dorian made an effort to stop slouching, an Altus does not slouch. Not even a slightly drunk Altus.
“The plains business… of course that’s why I’m down here. My company in fact was the Inquisitor herself. In fact… in further fact, I just sent her corpse off to fetch me more wine. Did you not pass her?” Did Varric really have to start this conversation whilst the filters between his brain and his mouth were down? Did he do this on purpose?
“Sparkler. Stop. ” Varric scrubbed a hand over his face. Dorian couldn’t remember seeing the rogue like this before. “Interesting trick that considering we burnt her.”
“I’m talented. Was there something specific you had to say regarding it?” Dorian said after a moment of silence in which they were both likely thinking of the same event.
“It’s just… Shit, this is awkward.”
“We could just not have this conversation.”
“No. Let’s have it.” Varric scratched at his non-existent beard. “Well, it occurred to me that my silence might have given you the wrong impression of my thoughts on that whole deal.”
“Hmm.” Dorian hadn’t particularly been paying much attention to Varric on their journey back, but now that he thought back on it the dwarf hadn’t seemed like his usual self.
“It wasn’t because of you, not really. It just reminded me of some shit I really didn’t want to think about. Don’t want to think about.” He sighed and looked up again to meet the mage’s eyes.
Dorian was starting to wonder if this was actually something that Varric needed to talk about rather than it being for Dorian’s benefit. He nodded to indicate that Varric could go on.
“You read any of my books? Well, I guess it doesn’t matter if you haven’t read it. I didn’t include this in my writing,” Varric paused, but not in the way he normally would when telling a story to give it tension.
Dorian studied him seriously, or as seriously as he could at present. “Something to do with Necromancy?”
“Well, yeah. But it was worse, way worse. What that guy did.” Varric for once appeared to be having trouble with his words.
“Enlightening.” Dorian murmured and rubbed at his eyes tiredly.
“Necromancer blood mage.”
“Ah…. Do I really need to hear this?” Dorian unsurprisingly was quite ready for this conversation to be over or to have never existed.
“I guess not.” Varric shook his head but carried on anyway. “Right up there with the worst shit ever. I can’t even compare what you did with that.”
“Then why are you?” Dorian asked, perhaps rather insensitively.
“Shit. I’m not. Just seeing someone I knew lurching about like that, it put me in mind of things I’d prefer not to think about. It was barely even a shadow of…. That. Ergh, I really shouldn’t have said anything, why am I still talking?”
“I don’t know, I could have sworn I was the one with all the wine.” He passed the bottle to Varric who immediately took a swig of it as if it were something far more common.
Varric returned the bottle and started to stand but Dorian raised a hand to stop him before he left. “I don’t understand the point of this discussion but… thanks for stopping by.”
“The point is that you’re a good man, Sparkler. As far as Magister’s go,” he said with a wink before slipping out of the door with surprising speed before Dorian could correct him on the usage of Magister.
“What was that?” Dorian arched a ‘brow at the now empty seat across from him as if it would have answers. “Oh well,” he raised a bottle that had mysteriously appeared in his hand and finished off the last dregs.
Finally. Some silence. Except for the delicate pitter patter of…. Fucking clod hoppers on the stone floor. Dorian braced himself.
“Oi you! What you hiding down ‘ere for?” Sera loomed over his table with her hands on her hips.
“Holding my office hours apparently,” Dorian arranged his bottles neatly and made like he was shuffling papers on his crate desk.
“You what?” The blonde elf leant forwards over the crate, her hands planting themselves on the surface with a thud that quite upset his non-existent papers. Dorian pulled a face. Sera pulled one back.
“You read Bull’s mission thingy?” She met his gaze steadily, her eyes twinkling with mischief because of course they were.
“Mission thingy?” Dorian spoke tentatively, he had no idea what she was speaking of and was trying not to examine the part of him that felt a little hurt he was finding out from Sera and not Bull.
“The mission thingy on the big kid’s table.” Sera grinned and perched on the edge of the table crate, ignoring the further one for conspiratorial purposes.
“The war table? The reports we lowly plebeians aren’t meant to be reading?” He wasn’t even surprised.
“Yeah, so what? There’s fuckin’ holes in the walls what do they expect? The bears prolly read ‘em too.” She was practically buzzing, either she was full of her own bees or was simply bursting to tell him what she had found out.
“That would explain a lot.”
“Oi, that’s not what we’re talking about. We’re talking about Bull’s mission!”
“Which you are planning to explain to me any second now?”
“’Course! So, listen.” Sera leaned closer, secretively despite no one else being present.
“So before her elfy-ness,” her lower lip went lopsided into a grimace and she waved her hand around expressively before plowing on. “Before all that, Bull was sending off his pen pal letters and shit yeah? And his pen pals wanna come be our pals too! Only elfy’s gone tits up and all so she can’t go meet them like they’d already planned.”
“Slow down,” Dorian paused a moment to process what she was saying. “Qunari coming here?”
“Storm Coast. Not here. Supposed to squish some Vints together.” She leaned in more somehow managing not to fall from her perch and nudged him with her elbow. “So, what do you say?”
Dorian blinked at her steadily, he was too drunk for this nonsense. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be saying?”
Sera coughed and sat up straight, raising a hand she mimed like she was twiddling an invisible moustache. “Why, Sera! Of course I would love to spend time killing Vints with you, my best friend!”
Dorian spluttered and coughed into his hand. Shifting on his seat uncomfortably he looked away from Sera only to have her grab his hand and attempt to tug him to his feet as she herself launched up onto her own. “Come on! It’ll be fun. We are friends aint we?”
Dorian felt an embarrassing warmth that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Though now that he was standing he did find himself a little unsteadier than he had expected. “Err, yes. Of course.”
“Grand! That’s settled then. Off we go.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now. I’ve already packed your things so you’d better meet me at the stables if you ever want to see your silly little moustache comb again!” That said she released her hold on him and sped off up the stairs.
*
The next morning Dorian found himself in a bedroll beneath the open sky, Sera had her back to him as she sat hunched over a small fire. He groaned and hid his face, cursing the lack of even a tent roof. He vaguely remembered sharing a horse with Sera after he had drunkenly gotten onto his own horse and then hopped right over it to land on the opposite side. Sera had found it hilarious of course but shushed him when he’d asked where everyone else was. The second horse trotted along placidly behind them as it was relegated to carrying their things.
Scowling he found the energy to throw his nearby boot at the elf’s head. Instantly she scrambled up and started grabbing for her weapon before she spied Dorian’s angry expression, which is when she promptly near fell about laughing. Clutching her stomach she hunched forwards. “Hahaha! Your face…!”
Dorian scowled more and crawled out of his bedroll, letting electricity dance around his body threateningly as he wriggled out like a grumpy electrically charged hedgehog.
“Come on. Don’t be an arse!” Sera backed off slightly and lazily ran her fingers through her tousled hair to bring it back to her usual choppy look. “There’s your stuff,” she indicated one of the nearby packs that was indeed his but appeared to be far more sloppily packed than if he himself had packed it. “Up and at ’em! Still got a ways to go yet till the Storm Coast!”
“I don’t even remember agreeing to be here,” Dorian glared and promptly curled back up on the ground with his face hidden beneath one arm.
Sera had the sense to look a little shamed, “I didn’t think you were that shit faced.”
The mage sighed, “I’m just dandy.” Uncurling he reached for his pack and pulled it towards himself. Digging around with in it he found himself becoming more and more agitated as time went on. “You packed a moustache comb but not an actual comb for my hair? As for the clothes… this appears to be my laundry.”
Sera huffed. “I was in a rush. You should have cleaned it and not left it laying about anyways.”
Dorian bristled, “you shouldn’t have been poking about in my room!”
“Hovel,” Sera corrected him with a grin and Dorian felt himself deflate slightly with the inside joke.
“Quite. Which way is Skyhold? I’m going back.”
“You what? You’re gonna leave me on my own?” She shoved a bowl of something undistinguishable at him. “Look! I made you breakfast and everythin’!” Her eyes widened as she gazed up at him, and was that her lip quivering? Maker help him. She was awful at this.
“Ergh,” Dorian uttered eloquently and sank to the ground with the bowl. Once he had eaten and was satisfied he had made himself as presentable as possible in the current situation Dorian eyed their location contemplatively.
“I suppose I can’t in good conscience leave you out here on your own.” Someone will probably come after them before too long anyway he suspected, though he would have thought Sera was aware of this possibility too.
“Aw, proper softie you are.” Sera clapped her hands and sent a shit eating grin his way. “Right, c’mon! I aint got no time to wait for you to polish your staff, chop chop let’s get moving!”
Dorian spluttered as Sera shoved him towards the horses. “Is there a deadline I don’t know about?” He gave his horse a fond pat on the neck for all the nonsense the creature was putting up with and climbed up into the saddle, he checked his pack and staff were secure before setting his gaze to land fully upon Sera. “Just how serious is this? You do realise that taking me, a Tevinter, along to meet with them is a truly terrible idea?”
“Yeah, sure. I know that…” she turned her shit eating grin on him again. “But you were the one that I knew I could get out here.” Her horse came up alongside so that they were travelling side by side.
“What did you tell the gate guards anyway when we left?” Dorian hadn’t been paying much attention at the time having been taking care not to vomit over Sera. He normally tried to avoid riding a horse when he had been drinking.
Sera laughed and straightened in the saddle, “told them you was shit faced and I was gonna bury you in the snow.”
Dorian scowled, “and that worked? Of course that worked.”
“Hey! Don’t be mad, I didn’t bury ya did I?”
“No, you only kidnapped me.”
“Pfft, you could have stopped me. We’re friends aint we? This’ll be fun.”
“I hate you.”