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Coded Messages

Summary:

He thought he was being direct, but apparently it's not direct enough by Southern standards.

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At least in Tevinter, there's a system, an unwritten code where men could show they are interested in each other. He wonders if the Dalish or elves have something like that. For all he knows, the South in general doesn't have something like that. He used to think he was good at picking up subtle cues, body language and key words that would indicate a person being interested in something further.

Then there is Lavellan, who has been giving him mixed signals ever since the two of them met. He's openly flirted with him to see the reaction, to test 'the waters' so to speak.

They've talked quite often, but he's also seen Lavellan talk to Solas just as much. When they first arrived at Haven, he wasn't sure if Lavellan speaking to him often was out of suspicion, curiosity, or wanting to actually know him better. Everyone in the South seems morbidly curious about Tevinter, and if they aren't, they usually have a handful of insults already lined up about it.

Dorian has kept track of these mixed messages, and he can't help but form his list in an academic way. He is a scholar after all, but no amount of diagrams or organizing arguments has truly helped him get a better picture of Lavellan's intentions or feelings towards him.

His attempts at flirtation, if they can even be called that, have had mixed results. He's not sure if Lavellan has been nice to him, considering his input, or he's just doing what he feels is right for the Inquisition. For all he knows, Lavellan is just making all this shit up as it goes -- not that he would blame him.

Lavellan asks him about Alexius as a person before judging him. He could ask Lavellan to show mercy, but he doesn't. It's too much to ask, so he doesn't. Yet he does say the truth on how he feels, and when he finds out Alexius is back doing research (even if he's being watched), he lets out a huge sigh of relief. When he talks to Lavellan about Felix, there's a genuine warmth and empathy from Lavellan. Dorian is taken aback, not used to it. For a second, he lets down his defenses, simply accepting Lavellan's kindness.

Lavellan takes him along quite often, but sometimes it feels like he's the back up mage tag along when Solas isn't available. Yet there are times when Lavellan insist Dorian come along. Then there are moments when they are alone, and Lavellan does make friendly conversation. He remembers when they visit a Dalish clan, and once gaining their trust, they're able to trade with them. Lavellan picks up a few trinkets, wood carvings and some supplies. He gives Dorian a small wooden halla carving, saying it's to mark the occasion of him stepping in halla shit the first time in his life (he also apologizes for laughing so hard at his mild breakdown/tantrum over it).

There's one time Lavellan catches him drinking alone in the library, reading some terribly biased propaganda against Tevinter he's found. He lets Lavellan have a sip of drinkable wine he's 'borrowed' from Josephine's secret stash. When he offers Lavellan a sip straight from the bottle, the elf looks like he's trying to force feed him poison. Yet eventually Lavellan does take a sip form the bottle, and he admits he's never had wine before.

Yet none of those are the tipping point in his confusion, no. Lavellan tells him of a letter from his family, he is there when he confronts his father about said letter, he is there for the after math, and Lavellan is there to comfort and listen to him.

"It's very brave to break tradition and walk your own path." He says to Dorian. "You are not alone, Lethallin, so don't think you walk this path alone."

That conversation still makes his stomach tie into knots. Maybe it would be easier for him to take it as solidifying a friendship and trust. Yet the way Lavellan said those words, the look in his eyes...

He sounds like a giddy schoolgirl or Cassandra excited about her bad romance novels.

"Solas," Dorian says in the doorway. "Humor me and let me ask you something about Elven culture."

Solas doesn't look at him, instead staring at his desk and various papers on it. "I am laughing already." He says in return, clearly not laughing, and he knows Solas is very prickly and defensive around him. "What is it?"

"You and the Inquisitor use Elven words, titles, to address each other, yes?"

"Yes, just like people have in Tevinter."

"What does he call you? I've heard it a few times and-"

"Hahren, and I call him da'len. In modern use in the Dalish, it's-"

"Lethallin, are you-" Lavellan enters the room, interrupting Solas. At first Dorian assumes Lavellan is talking to him, but then he looks surprised to see Dorian."Dorian, I didn't mean to interrupt, but I need to talk to Solas about something important."

"Go ahead, Inquisitor. I was just having a friendly conversation with Solas." He forces a smile. "You know how it is. I'll leave the two of you alone." He turns away, going back up stairs.

It stings.

He doesn't even know what the word means, lethallin, but clearly it's not as affectionate as he thought it was. Sure, the way Lavellan said it to Solas isn't as warm or affectionate, but words have set meanings. Clearly Lavellan sees him and Solas in the same category, and from what he's seen of their interactions, it's clearly that of friendship and mentoring.

He could leave it at that, not asking for clarification, but he's an academic and needs a source rather than just assumptions. After Lavellan leaves, he goes back down the stairs to talk to Solas.

"What does lethallin mean?" No jokes, no attempt at friendly banter that transitions into asking the question.

"Literally, it means clansman or cousin, but most often or not it means a dear friend." There is the confirmation he needs, and no longer should he be confused if Lavellan is interested in something more.

"I see. Thank you, Solas." He goes to turn, to go back upstairs, but Solas speaks again.

"Why? Did the Inquisitor call you lethallin?" He should give Solas more credit for picking up things. "When an elf, especially a Dalish elf like our Inquisitor, uses that term with a human, it means the person is very dear to them, that they share a special bond."

More confusion.

"Thank you, Solas."

Days pass, and he's trying to be more 'friendly' to the Inquisitor. This sort of back fires, as it turns up being more distant than being friendly. He sees the sad look in Lavellan's eyes, even disappointment, when he turns down the offer to accompany him.

A week passes, and Lavellan has had enough of this.

"Are you mad at me? Is this about me sentencing that chief from Fallow Mire to Tevinter with weapons?" Dorian looks up from his book, soon closing it and putting it aside.

"What? No. In fact, I found it quite amusing." They both look confused, but Lavellan looks like he's going to burst. "I'm sure when he gets there my fellow country men are going to greet him with open arms. 'Oh look! Another precious Southern barbarian bringing us presents! These Southerners and their unique gifts!'"

Lavellan doesn't look so amused at his joke. "So you are."

"I'm not! Inquisitor, I'm not mad about something like that."

"Then what are you mad about? Something's wrong, and I've been racking my brain as to what I've done wrong."

The look on his face, how vulnerable he sounds, it almost breaks his heart. Now Dorian knows he's crossed a line for caring for this man, liking him, more than he should, that is wise. He shouldn't hope for more, but his foolish heart pines for Lavellan.

Dorian stands up, closing the space between them. "Why did you call me lethallin, Inquisitor?" There's no dry sense of humor, a defense mechanism to cover his true feelings and thoughts.

"I," Lavellan turns his head away, breaking eye contact. "You are important to me, Dorian. I never thought I would have kinship or friendship with a mage from Tevinter of all places." He looks at him, his voice still hesitant. "What you did, with your father, ever since then, I've admired you. I've been scared to leave my own path of being a Dalish Keeper, but seeing you, it gives me hope and strength that I can do this whole Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste, thing because I have people like you beside me, supporting me." There's a little smile, but Dorian isn't sure if it's forced. "I was in denial, thinking this was just some 'Shemlen' thing, and once it was over with, I'd go back to my clan. Because of you, I've come realize sometimes we need to break from a path we're comfortable with to do the right thing, the hard thing."

The things he says, does he have any idea what it does to him? They break so many walls and defenses Dorian has built for himself.

"The things you say," he laughs, almost bitter sweetly. "You're more cut out for the job than you think."

It's quiet, and such an awkward silence, Dorian is the type to fill it right away, but he doesn't.

"I, thank you, Inquisitor. I am glad as a friend I can provide you such support."

Friend. Saying the word, it's hard, but he needs to accept it. Yet Lavellan's response to being called a friend... it's not what he expects.

"Ah, yes. Thank you, Dorian. I'll leave you be now." And the way Lavellan runs out of the library, it makes him more confused.


Of course rumors start because they always do. Mother Giselle has a point, but Lavellan seems defensive and even outright angry. It's a bit amusing, and sort of feels nice that someone is standing up for him. They talk about the rumors, of them being 'intimate', and instead of an eye roll, a disgusted look, Lavellan does something else.

It's not the worst thing they could say, now is it?

He's been so sure, then unsure, and the cycle keeps going. He needs to do something, he needs to get it straight from Lavellan.

"If you're capable." He jokes, but what Dorian does next, it's no joke.

He takes a chance, pushing his body against Lavellan and kisses him. It's not the best kiss he's ever given, but the rush of emotions and nerves gets to him. It's just a peck on the lips, and for a second, he feels it's going to be one sided. Lavellan is going to push him off, give him a curt no thank you, but instead, Lavellan kisses him back.

These Southerners. Maybe he should have done this ages ago to make it clear.