Work Text:
Dorian got to the border town villa ahead of Ellana - no surprise, since she was coming through wilderness to reach it. He still didn’t much like the idea of her traveling alone, not since the loss of her arm and thus her ability to use her bow and all her related skills, but when he told her as much through the crystal, he couldn’t exactly disagree with her response.
“I probably have less to fear from his forces than any of you.”
That was how she always referred to Fen’Harel - Solas - That Asshole. Just him.
Dorian sighed. It had been months since he and Bull had been to the villa, and there was dust everywhere. He ought to clean it up and start a fire and see what his steward had packed for his journey, but he was still sore from his ordeal with the Venatori. If only Bull and the Chargers had been able to stay after their daring rescue. But with the rumors swirling at the two of them being seen together, it was even more important that they stay away.
Something rustled in a dark corner and he jumped half out of his skin, shooting a quick blast of flame. Naturally, it was a rat. His heart rate still refused to slow, though. Maybe one more glance around the perimeter for insane, murderous mages.
He was just about to go back into the house when he saw a cloaked figure approaching. He put one hand on his staff, already feeling lightning crackling around him, but then the figure hesitated and removed its hood to reveal dark skin and short, tightly curled red hair. Ellana. She raised a hand in greeting and quickened her pace. His heart lifted a little at the sight of her. How long had it been since they saw each other face to face? Six months at least.
“What?” She said when she reached him, embracing him. “Are you locked out? You know I’m not much for lock picking these days.”
He’d only embraced her a handful of times since she lost her arm and he still felt a little stiff doing it. Funny word, lost. It wasn’t lost. They knew exactly what happened to it. He watched it happen. He tried to forget it.
“Very funny. I was checking the perimeter.”
Her grey eyes saddened. “I still can’t believe the Venatori made a move on you like that. I was so afraid when I got the news.”
“Come now, my dear. Did they not impress you enough during our war with their little god? I’m surprised they didn’t do it sooner. I’m a very attractive target, in more ways than one.”
She shook her head. “Let’s get inside. I’m starving.”
“Starving? I haven’t even got a fire going.”
“What? First, that should have been just a snap of your fingers. Second, were you expecting me to cook? Do you even remember my cooking?”
“Have you ever seen me cook?”
They went inside and Dorian lit a fire. Ellana looked around, removing her cloak and tossing it over a chair. It was a modest villa - just the living area, a bedroom, a study, and a kitchen. There was little in it other than two chairs in this main area, a small table, and a bed.
“This is more bare than I expected. Have your tastes changed so much?” She commented.
“I don’t spend much time here. Busy trying to change the world, you know.”
“Fair enough. What’s in the kitchen? I can try something.”
She smiled and for a moment he was seeing the woman he remembered as the Inquisitor. She’d been reserved when they first met, but as the months went on her humor grew more and more wicked. Cassandra often said the history books would never believe how funny the Inquisitor was. But that was - before. Though the crystal was imperfect, of course, he could always sense the heaviness in her voice when they spoke now.
“You know - I’m not entirely sure what’s in there. I don’t think we’ve ever opened the cupboards.”
“Honestly, Dorian,” she sighed.
“Well, it’s not like we spend a lot of time eating while we’re here.”
She snorted but didn’t look at him. Kaffas. When was the last time she’d bedded the man she loved? “Naturally. Let’s look.”
She poked around the kitchen, finding some dried herbs they could use to season the dried meat he’d brought along, and a pot to throw it into.
“Now we just need water and maybe one or two vegetables, if we can find anything growing here,” Ellana said. “There’s just enough light. Let’s go out and see. I have news I want to share - our agents have been productive. It will be nice to do it face to face for once, instead of through the crystal. I’m happy it worked out that I was nearby.”
Dorian considered making a pun about them doing anything face to face, but a different feeling overwhelmed him. He saw his dear friend so little, and even though she was putting on a brave face, he saw with every motion now how tired she was. It had been a year and a half since That Asshole showed his true colors. Since she dedicated herself to redeeming him. And she had little to show for it.
“Can’t that wait until tomorrow?” He pleaded. “Let’s be irresponsible for once. No talking about death and gloom. Let’s just be old friends. I brought the good wine, you know.”
Ellana assented and they went out into the woods, finding some small wild potatoes in no time. While they dug them up he told her all the most scandalous gossip he’d heard recently, until she was laughing so hard she dropped half of the potatoes she’d gathered and had to find them in the gathering dark. She shared the best stories of Cassandra’s impatience with the clerics surrounding her and Cullen’s frustration with Orlais. Then they returned to the villa and started to make their improbable stew. There was a good bit of swearing, arguing, and second guessing, and half the wine was already gone when they sat down to eat, but it was something.
“This is terrible. No wonder you and Bull don’t do much eating while you’re here,” Ellana said.
“Come to think of it, I don’t think we’ve ever sat down to a homemade meal together,” Dorian admitted. “There were always cooks in Skyhold. And, well, since then it’s been - this. For a few hours at a time.”
He waved vaguely at the villa around them. Ellana looked around, twirling her spoon in her soup.
“I don’t think Solas and I ever did, either,” she said. The name sent a current up Dorian’s spine. Even before he left her the first time, even before he was revealed as Fen’Harel, she didn’t talk about their relationship much. They were both private people, she told him once.
“Yes, well. There’s more to life and relationships than cooking. And decorating. And sleeping in the same bed every night.” Shit. It started off full of bravado but it didn’t end that way. This isn’t what Ellana needed. It wasn’t what he needed, either.
“True,” she said quietly.
“I mean, Bull isn’t even that domestic. That Qunari upbringing and everything. Neither am I. I bet we’d kill each other in a week if we really, truly made a go of living together.” Dammit, Dorian. Shut your mouth. Shut it now. Stop picturing a bed big enough for both of you, a table where you could sit close together. A home you both came back to.
Ellana set down her spoon. Her right hand drifted to her left arm.
“Solas was shockingly domestic,” she said. “Is, I guess.”
Dorian hesitated to respond at first. This was dangerous ground. It was the dangerous ground. The ground on which she'd broken once. And yet - she offered to talk about it so rarely. How often had he and Bull and Cassandra and Varric and Thom - all of them - puzzled over this love she had, this love that was worth risking everything to save?
“You don’t say? I wouldn’t have guessed it by the mess that desk always was.”
She chuckled. “I didn’t say he was clean. Do you know how many papers and half-drunk glasses of wine he left behind in my quarters? He was - we were - there was always a rhythm, even if we didn't get to spend the night together very often. Before bed he made sure there was a fire and that everything was locked up and secure. I tidied up whatever was left of my work for the day and turned down the comforters. Sometimes I chose a book for him to read to me. We always settled into the same way of sleeping at each other’s side. I woke first and got us breakfast and we ate it on the balcony. He always had his hand on my knee while we did. We never talked about our future, of course. But every now and then I let myself imagine - ” She looked around. “Well. A table and some chairs. A bookshelf. Murals on the walls. Not very Dalish of me, I guess.”
Vishante kaffas. Venedhis. Shit. He needed more curse words. Because her heart was breaking and so was his and there was really nothing he could say.
“Honestly, Ellana. So tame. If that’s domesticity it sounds quite boring. Not nearly enough nudity.”
She snorted softly. “I may have left out a few details.”
“Ever the lady. You’re really never going to kiss and tell on that one are you? For the sake of everything we are risking, I do hope you also had the best sex of your life in the midst of all that.” He tensed waiting for her response. It was low, making it sound like they risked these things only for her sake. But things felt different here in this villa, like they weren’t quite in the real world. Maybe that was why Solas liked the Fade so much. Maybe this was how it felt to him.
“Yes,” she said. “Because it wasn’t just sex.”
Memories of whispered endearments flooded Dorian. Of amatus and kadan. Of being held and cared for, before, during, and after. Of being stripped bare and made whole.
“It would be nice to have - oh, I don’t know - what is it married people have? More pillows? Curtains? Boring sex?” He said. He didn’t even know what he was asking for. It was a firelit image, half dream and shadow.
Ellana really looked at him now. Dead in the eye. Her eyes were almost disconcerting at times. So pale in the midst of her dark skin. They went straight through him now.
“It could still happen, couldn’t it?” She asked. “For you and for me. We could still have those things. With them.”
For the first time he really took stock of what stood in the way. Thousands of years of Tevinter culture, demanding both offspring and the death of the Qunari people. A man (god?) who loved her enough that it pained him to rip her world asunder, but not enough to give up his plans. The only way forward promising years and years of thankless work, uncertain of success, death around every corner.
“Sure,” he said. He wasn’t hungry anymore. Neither was she.
After a minute she collected the two bowls and together they went outside to the nearby stream to wash them. They brought them back inside and scrounged up a loose bandage from her pack to dry them off. They finished the second half of the bottle and sat in the chairs by the fireplace.
“I don’t know if you want to sit there,” Dorian joked. “The dirty, dirty stories that cushion would tell if it could talk.”
“Dorian, I wouldn’t be able to touch half of Skyhold if I was squeamish about where you two are - intimate.”
There were stories to share about Sera’s exploits - about Blackwall’s journey to redeem half of Thedas - of Leliana and her nugs. All the people they had not seen in months. Would not see for months to come. By then the fire was nearly out.
“It’s a stupid thing to want, isn’t it?” Ellana said. “A domestic life. We both have what matters. Love. Not everyone gets that.”
She didn’t believe her words. He didn’t either.
“It’s the stupidest thing to want. Most people I know haven’t gotten to feel what we feel. We can’t get greedy. Besides - we can always marry each other if we get desperate enough to play house. Think that’ll scandalize the Imperium and the Chantry enough?”
“Enough for the next age,” Ellana said, a laugh coloring the words, even if it never came out.
They weren’t the words either of them wanted. They wanted wedding hymns and too-wide grins and the ebb and flow of truly having a life with someone. But they had opened a wound here, and it needed to close so they could both move forward in the morning, if they were to have any chance at that day where they would both come home to the men they loved.
“Dorian,” Ellana said after a moment. “Do you even have a second bed in here?”
“Didn’t you know?” He said. “This was all part of my plan. All those spies the enemy factions send after me have to see me in bed with a gorgeous woman - the Inquisitor, no less - so the rumors will stop. What do you say, darling?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Take me to bed, you magnificent man.”
He stood and offered her his hand. “I thought you’d never ask.”