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Dorian kicked his feet up onto the edge of the banister, sinking back into his leather chair. Dragging his seat close enough to have a proper footrest was one of the benefits of staying up late in the library. As the others who regularly lingered there retired for the evening, he felt free to move the furniture around as it pleased him. He propped his book up against his legs, thumbing through the aged pages. The rotunda had fallen still; silent save for the intermittent squawking of those wretched birds upstairs and the occasional shuffle of papers below him. Solas was clearly up late, but that was no surprise. From the way he obsessed over the Fade, Dorian would have assumed the elf would take every opportunity to sleep. Yet he regularly kept late hours, often still working silently on whatever it was he was trying to accomplish when Dorian left each night.
He heard Isii’s voice as she entered the study below – again, little surprise there. She’d been a regular fixture in the rotunda for weeks now. For a woman in charge of a world-defining organization, she certainly seemed to dedicate much of her time to the sole purpose of making moon eyes at Solas, or so it would appear. Dorian found her little infatuation adorable, if not ill-considered. Honestly, he couldn’t truly understand what she saw in the man. He found the elf arrogant and unwilling to budge from his opinions. He seemed to take the issue of Tevinter slavery personally and to outlandish extremes. Dorian could understand that it was a less-than-savory practice, but to judge him for not single-handedly tearing down the establishment was ludicrous. Solas was clearly brilliant when it came to the depth of his understanding of magic and his grasp of history was impressive, if a bit biased. Dorian would never admit this aloud however, for fear that the poor man’s ego would crack through that shiny bald head of his if such things were said within earshot. Intellectual acuity alone could not explain Isii’s growing attachment to him.
Though after Solas’s little performance at Halamshiral with that steamy kiss Dorian had unwittingly stumbled across, he could understand at least a part of her attraction. She certainly appeared to be enjoying herself. He’d heard Solas make some excuse the following day that he had had too much to drink, apologizing for his inappropriate behavior much to the poor girl’s disappointment. Dorian had snickered quietly to himself when he’d eavesdropped on that little gem. Of course it had been the result of drink. In no other fashion could he imagine the elf straying from his polite impassive decorum to thrill the beautiful woman who was practically throwing herself at him. The image of Solas as some passionate lover held a bizarre hilarity for Dorian. He truly felt sorry for the Inquisitor if that was what she hoped to gain from such a pairing.
Dorian heard their conversation with a passive ear, focused more on the text in front of him than the elves below him. Solas seemed to be droning on about his travels in the Fade- something relating to the ancient customs of Arlathan. Isii peppered him with questions.
Again, not so different from the usual fare.
It wasn’t as if Dorian and Solas hated one another. Their hostility had never become heated enough to go anywhere past a mild dislike. Dorian did not know what he had done to offend the elf, in all honesty. He had made attempts to apologize, yet it appeared Solas could find fault with just about anything he said. Their conversations went much more smoothly when they stuck to subjects concerning magic and the nature of the Fade. For their mutual benefit, Dorian tried to aim for these subjects most of the time. Isii’s relationship with each of them, in turn, had softened their teeth a bit and they no longer sniped at one another. Even though she made no demands on their behavior, their mutual desire to not upset her acted as a balm between them.
Isii’s laughter broke into his thoughts. “This feels strange.”
“You said you wanted to learn.” Solas responded.
Dorian glanced down over the railing, his curiosity piqued. Solas was standing behind Isii, intimately close, his hand resting delicately on her hip. “A dance is not something that can be taught through explanation.” He continued. “It must be demonstrated.” He pressed his fingers to her hand with a light touch, lifting it and guiding it into his own. “I will go slowly. Pay attention to my movements and it should not be difficult to follow.” She nodded, grinning.
Then Solas began to move. It was a sweeping dance but very slow. Gentle. There was precision in it, even as she shuffled her feet, uncertain where to step next. He would extend her arm, angle her head with the tip of his finger on her jaw, brush her foot aside with his own. It was a graceful routine, though strangely foreign. He turned her around to face him and hooked his hand at the nape of her neck, the other pressed behind his back. They circled each other then, gazing into each other’s eyes.
“It feels odd to dance without music.” She said. He smiled softly, sliding his hand to her lower back, dipping her low. She sucked in a small gasp as her back arched over his arm, instinctively reaching up to nervously grip his shoulder. Leaning over her, Solas began to sing.
It was not what Dorian expected of him.
Solas’s voice was low and murmuring, singing softly in a tone that was clearly meant for no one but her. The words meant nothing to Dorian as he listened, though they sounded distinctly Elvish. The elf lifted her from the dip slowly, spinning her into his arms again. Her back pressed to his chest once more, her hand moving over the one he placed on her hip. He bowed his head to her neck, singing softly in her ear and Dorian could see the warm wave of pleasure wash over her smile. They began the dance anew, this time met by the slow rhythm of his foreign song. Broad steps. Sweeping arms. The routine was beautiful in its simplicity. She grew more confident in her movement, needing less guidance and yet not chasing it away. This time when he turned her, when he held his hand to the back of her neck, something was distinctly different between them. Their look was soft. Loving. Longing.
It must be nice to have someone look at you that way.
Dorian sighed, rubbing the base of his palm against his forehead. If you’re getting wistfully jealous over a prudish elf’s love affair, it is officially time to call it a night, he thought drearily. He closed his book, quietly lowering his feet from the railing. The song continued, as did the dance. Dorian knew he’d have to walk right past them to leave the way he normally would. He glanced down again as Solas bent her backwards once more, met this time by her laughter as she hooked her arm around his neck, pulling his lips down to hers, swallowing his music with her kiss.
No. Another route would be preferable.
Dorian took his leave quietly, cutting across in the direction of Vivienne’s little nook in the main hall. “I have no idea what any of that meant.” He heard Isii say softly. He stole one last curious glance down as Solas lifted her upright once more. His face held no trace of the dispassionate reserve Dorian was used to seeing. Instead he grinned, lit with tender compassion.
“Perhaps that is a lesson for another night, vhenan.” He whispered, his fingers lacing themselves with hers.
Dorian supposed Isii’s tastes were not quite so misguided.