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The air in the garden was filled with softly murmuring voices: vocalizations of gentle prayers; canticles from the gathered chantry brothers and sisters; the low hum of genteel conversation; and the beautifully articulate tone of Tevene caressed vowels and rounded consonants. Even in times of mirth, Dorian’s manner of speech was refined, exact even and his accent perfectly conspicuous enough to spot even in the thickest crowds of people; which was how Vaxus had been able to find him so easily in the softly buzzing Skyhold garden. The mage was seated opposite of Cullen, a chessboard stuck between them. Cullen was hunched over. His eyes focused entirely on the game, studying it like at any moment the pieces would come alive and reveal his opponent’s plans. Dorian, however, was perched on his chair like it was the grandest throne in all of Thedas. He looked utterly at ease, and the sight of him elegantly seated made Vaxus’s stomach quiver pleasantly.
The Inquisitor stayed back, just out of sight of the other two men, and watched as Cullen made his move. He caught the Commander’s smirk and the way Dorian’s left eyebrow rose as his eyes darted over the board. Vaxus felt his heart wobble inside of his chest as Dorian smiled brightly, picked up a piece and moved it several spaces across the playing field. Part of Vaxus wanted to stay hidden and enjoy the view of Dorian at ease. It was a sharp contrast to their time in the dark future, when Vaxus fully took note of the mage by his side. Of course, he’d noticed Dorian before; he was, after all, an attractive man with a pleasing manner. But inside the grim darkness of a time too horrible for words, Dorian had uttered one little phrase that had fully turned Vaxus’s head:
“…Don’t worry. I’m here. I will protect you.”
In a time when every person in Thedas was looking to him to decide the fate of the world, to lead the armies of Thedas against a seemingly impossible foe, to be a holy symbol of guidance and protection in a world that stopped making sense the day his sister died; Dorian had instead pledged to protect him. It had come as such a surprise, Vaxus was sure he’d stood there gaping at the mage for a time longer than could ever been dismissed as simple wool-gathering or a moment to think of the proper words for the situation. When they had escaped the awful future and Vaxus had pledged to free the mages, the sparkle deep within Dorian’s eyes had made Vaxus’s heart skip a beat.
He should stay away, he knew. With each passing day his fate seemed to inch closer and closer; Vaxus was under no delusion that this story ended in his happily-ever-after. He fully expected to die for the Inquisition. To even potentially begin a dalliance with another, whether serious or just a passing amusement seemed too cruel.
Yet, Vaxus found his feet moving on their own accord as he approached the chess game. His heart hammered wildly in his chest as his stomach flipped and flopped within him. Cullen looked up sharply, rising to pay his respects to the Inquisitor. Dorian, still perched on his throne, teased the Commander about leaving the game constituting a forfeit. The mage had looked over then, lips still curled into a smirk that left Vaxus returning with a smile of his own without him even realizing it. Two moves later saw Cullen winning and Dorian rising to leave the table. Vaxus turned his head, watching Dorian as he walked past. Their eyes met and Vaxus felt his breath leave his lungs. In an instant Dorian was gone, leaving Vaxus alone with Cullen, whom he realized was asking him if he’d like a game.
“Prepare the board, Commander.”
And though he knew he should focus on the game in front of him, Vaxus’s mind drifted back to Redcliffe and the promise of protection.
. . .
Kaffas. Kaffas. Kaffas.
It happened again; Maker, it had happened again.
The image of Vaxu the Inquisitor’s smile burned in Dorian’s mind. It was a soft, easy thing. A surprise, really, to see something so gentle come out of such a fearsome and scarred warrior had nearly blown Dorian away. It was dishonest to pretend otherwise. When he’d first heard stories of the Inquisitor, a man who possessed the musculature to swing and heft huge weapons whilst still being able to dodge and leap and, Maker, dance around enemies at the same time, Dorian hadn’t expected anything other than a brute. But he’d been wrong, entirely wrong…dangerously wrong. After all, if there was one sort of man Dorian could not resist, it was a warrior with a heart of gold and it hadn’t taken long for Dorian to learn all too well how kind the Inquisitor’s heart truly was.
Even though he was no mage and had seen the darker side of magic first hand with his trip through time, the Inquisitor agreed to accept the mages of Redcliffe as his allies. It was a decision that would rock Thedas and open doors the Southern Chantry had long since attempted to seal shut. Of course, most could see the benefit of having all the power of the rebel mages at their side. Yet, Dorian had the sneaking suspicion that Vaxus had simply done it because it was the right thing to do. And when the Inquisitor had turned to him and smiled, Dorian fractured. On one hand, the most carnal part of him was overjoyed; this man, handsome and powerful was paying attention to him. Yet, the other parts of him were terrified. He’d gone down this path before, had his heart broken and worse.
But, could it be possible that the Inquisitor also…liked men?
No, of course not. That would be-
The Inquisitor had a flirtatious manner. The first time Vaxus had spoke to Dorian in that coy, almost affectionate tone, he’d nearly fainted. He had been flabbergasted that the Herald of Andraste could ever stoop to anything other than derision for a mage from Tevinter. Luckily, he’d had the wherewithal to be subtle in his coquetry, as Dorian had also seen the pink tinge of Seeker Cassandra’s cheeks after a conversation with the Inquisitor. In that moment he knew that it was simply Vaxus’s way, and repudiated it as such. Yet, he’d caught the Inquisitor staring at him on more than one occasion. At the time he’d dismissed it as the same sort of stares he had gotten from all of the people in the South. He was exotic to them, he knew, exotic and dangerous. They no doubt expected him to open a vein at any moment. But as he saw Vaxus staring at him from across the Garden while the Commander contemplated his next chess move, Dorian couldn’t help but wonder: ‘what if?’
In a moment, the Inquisitor was crossing the garden and approaching them. Dorian, too nervous to move, had remained seated and cracked a joke as Cullen had risen to pay his respects. Kaffas, he should have risen himself and shown the Inquisitor his due deference. Vaxus, to his credit, appeared unfazed by Dorian’s crude behavior. Instead, the man smiled and Dorian wanted to shiver from the pleasurable warmth pooling in his belly. Instead, at the first opportunity he’d fled like a lovesick child. Their eyes had locked as he left. For that single moment they were the only two to exist in the world.. He could lose himself in those eyes, Dorian realized. He was playing a dangerous game; if the Inquisitor did not seek the company of men and if he were offended by such a suggestion, Dorian had a lot more to lose than just his pride. However, if there wasn’t something there between the two of them, Dorian would eat his staff. It was difficult, but he had to remember that he was in the South and their view on mages was not the same as in Tevinter. And, Maker knew there were plenty of former Templars employed by the Inquisition. No, he had to be cautious. He would not get his hopes up again. He couldn’t.
Kaffas, he was a fool.
. . .
Through a gap in the bookshelves, Dorian watched as Vaxus lingered on the stairs to the upper floor of the library. The Inquisitor tried to stick to the shadows, but Vaxus was not one for intrigue or subterfuge, Dorian was certain. The man simply stuck out, an unstoppable force or a hurricane of change. Dorian tried not to feel hurt as Vaxus hesitated to come over to speak to him. After all with the display that had gone on in Redcliffe, Dorian was certain that he’d lost any respect he’d managed to eke out from the Inquisitor.
Finally, after what felt like centuries, Vaxus moved. The warrior’s strong gait sent a knife of nerves through Dorian’s body. Each step became his heartbeat, drawing ever closer. For a moment, Dorian entertained the thought that Vaxus was likely to pass right by him on his way to speak to Leliana or inquire after some of the research conducted in the library. But, no, Vaxus stopped at the edge of Dorian’s little alcove and lingered a moment longer.
Redcliffe had been trying, again. The first trip there had taken them to a dark future, a place too horrible for words. Going back there, meeting with his father took him to the darkest parts of his recent past. Dorian had been forced to confront parts of himself that he just wanted to bury beneath his charm and wit. To confront the difficulties of life was unpleasant, ugly and it made him look ugly in return.
“Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display,” Dorian remarked, turning to face Vaxus. He expected to see derision or disgust pass across the Inquisitor’s features. Instead, there was…kindness and warmth, hints of something more. The sight nearly took Dorian’s breath away.
“I think you’re very brave,” the Inquisitor said, his voice soft but strong.
A rush, a fire of emotion, of things he could not begin to describe passed through him. There was an edge to the Inquisitor’s gaze, nothing harsh or mean. Instead the gaze had fierceness, a determination as if Vaxus believed his words deep into his core. All semblances of facades and false airs disappeared from Dorian’s face and he knew, his expression was more open than he’d allowed it to be in ages.
“Brave?” he questioned, softly, as if not trusting his voice.
“It’s not easy to abandon tradition and walk your own path.”
Dorian’s eyes widened ever so slightly. All at once, he could see it there in the Inquisitor’s eyes: admiration, and Maker, love. Without a doubt, Dorian knew as much as he knew anything at all that:
He loved him too.
Yet, there was a hesitance between them. Something was holding Vaxus back.
. . .
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing!”
“I’m being clucked at by a hen, evidently.”
Vaxus climbed the familiar staircase to the second floor to the library, pausing as the raised voices of Mother Giselle and Dorian hit his ears.
“Don’t play the fool with me, young man.”
“If I wanted to play the fool, I could be rather more convincing, I assure you.”
He continued forward, up the stairs but took each step slowly as he listened to their argument. Perhaps it was wrong, eavesdropping, yet Vaxus was rather sure that every person inside the library could hear them.
“Your glib tongue does you no credit.”
“You’d be surprised at the credit my tongue gets me, your reverence.”
He reached the top stair, arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed the scene before him. Mother Giselle caught sight of him, the anger dropping from her face instantly as the Inquisitor moved to stand beside Dorian. “Oh,” she began, her tone changed so drastically that Vaxus couldn’t help but narrow his eyes at the mother. “I-”
“What’s going on here?”
He listened to the exchange between Mother Giselle and Dorian, eyes shifting back and forth between the two. He felt himself bristle with anger as Mother Giselle’s heavy implications resonated in his mind. His shoulders stiffened, the arms across his chest tightened as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. To imply that Dorian was an ill influence, a man of ill morals who was using the Inquisitor and the Inquisition for evil, made Vaxus’s blood simmer in his veins. He questioned Mother Giselle on the source of the rumors and felt himself grow even angrier as he watched the woman’s face change sharply once again.
“I- I see.”
His eyes narrowed as she offered the appearance of an apology with none of the meaning before she retreated, turning her back on Dorian as she did so. Vaxus turned to Dorian, face automatically contorting into regret. He tried to offer an apology, to tell Dorian to ignore her and her thinly concealed contempt. Dorian, to his credit, chuckled though the mirth in his voice didn’t match the edge in his eyes. After a moment, the Altus spoke hesitantly:
“I don’t know if you’re aware, but the assumption in some corners is that you and I are,” he paused, clearing his throat a little before continuing, “intimate.”
Vaxus’s brow furrowed. “That’s…not the worst assumption they could have, is it?”
“I don’t know, is it?”
Vaxus sighed. “Do you always answer a question in with a question?”
A smirk crossed Dorian’s face, his eyes crinkling in a way that made Vaxus’s heart beat just a little faster. His breath caught in his chest, but Vaxus hardly noticed. “Would you prefer I answer in some other fashion?” Dorian asked, his voice falling dangerously low.
“If you’re capable.”
All at once, Dorian crossed the gap between their bodies. Before Vaxus had a chance to react, Dorian’s warm, soft lips were pressed against his as their bodies finally touched. It was a gentle thing, full of hesitation and promise. Vaxus’s heart went wild, mouth falling open from the shock; he could feel Dorian smiling against his mouth just before the Altus pulled back.
“‘If you’re capable’, the nonsense you speak.”
Vaxus found himself still frozen in place from the kiss, lips slightly pursed as his eyes were blown wide. His voice shook as he finally spoke, “you realize this makes the rumors somewhat true.”
“Evidently,” Dorian replied easily. “We might have to explore the truth of them later, in private.”
Dorian winked then, stepping past Vaxus and back in his alcove to leave the still-shocked Inquisitor behind. Vaxus’s head swam and his chest constricted as the full weight of reality hit him. There was no going back. He loved Dorian, beyond a shadow of a doubt. Though the coming days could spell his end, there was no way Vaxus was going to let himself be willingly parted from him. A wave of warm, sticky-sweet happiness washed over him as his mind replayed the memory of Dorian’s kiss and the promise that had been given with it. For the first time since his sister’s death, the future didn’t seem quite so dark.