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Ferron laid in his bed, wide awake. His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. At least in the clan I had a view... he thought somewhat bitterly. Whenever he closed his eyes and attempted to sleep, the horrible fearlings and demons from the Fade plagued his mind. Their piercing shrieking echoed in his ears. He didn't want to get stuck in that nightmare, so his only other option was to stay awake.
He could feel the weight of his decisions on everyone. It wasn't a feeling he particularly enjoyed. Hawke made it out alive, but the Wardens suffered the consequence of losing their ranking commander. Ferron allowed them to stay, wanting to give them some sort of redemption; however, most of his companions disagreed with his choice. Their negative input made him cringe. He didn't want a chance to disappoint anyone like he did his family.
It was a deep rooted fear. Despite the constant insecurity, Ferron still stuck to what he believed in, never agreeing with people just to please them. The fear made him prone to trying to find a peaceful way to solve things. He believed in second chances, and sometimes third chances. He never got one, so he gave them out freely to those he trusted enough not to stab him in the back later on. It didn't always work out, but he found comfort in the idea of trying everything he could before actually giving up.
On the contrary to his usually peaceful demeanor, Ferron didn't hesitate to use combat when he needed to. In some warped way, he enjoyed the fight. It gave him a chance to control his immediate destiny of life or death. He did not enjoy killing - he enjoyed surviving. With a low sigh, he sat up and pulled the covers away from his body. He slid on his pants and shirt before making his way out of the Inquisitor's bedroom, which he didn't quite call his yet.
He tip-toed through the main hall, which was dead silent and vacant, went through the garden door, and climbed up the stairs by the garden up to the rooms just off the side of the main building. He knew the first room was Solas' and the last room was filled with wood piles. He vaguely recalled Dorian mentioning that Varric had lost the middle room in a bet against Dorian, and for the sake of this moment, he prayed that Varric did not win the room back.
His hand closed around the handle, but he didn't turn the knob. A wave of anxiety washed over him. He didn't know if Dorian would disapprove of a late night visit. Ferron had never done this before. He knew that Dorian and him were technically dating, and Dorian had expressed concern about Ferron after Adamant, but their physical relationship hadn't developed past make out sessions in his room. Not that Ferron was complaining. Their emotional relationship wasn't really there - despite how much Ferron wanted one. Minor concern was expressed, but no declarations of love had been admitted.
With a deep breath, he opened the door slowly, cringing when the hinges squeaked as if to make this situation even more nail-biting. He slipped inside and shut the door behind him with a soft click. He didn't notice Dorian quietly stirring from sleep just around the small corner of the doorway. He crept around it, keeping his eyes focused on the ground to prevent any sort of tripping. He nearly pissed himself when Dorian spoke, plastering himself against the wall out of fear of being discovered.
"Inquisi- Ferron, is that you?" He said in a deep, raspy voice. He was rubbing his eye as he sat up from the bed. The blanket peeled away from his abdomen, revealing his strong chest. He was muscular for a mage, but not built enough to mistake him for a warrior. His hair was messy with sleep. Ferron smiled a little as his eyes adjusted, he could certainly get used to seeing this state of Dorian every morning.
It took him a few seconds to realize how long he had been staring at Dorian's body. He cleared his throat, his eyes dashing to the floor. Ferron sounded nervous, "I- yes, it's me." He gave an awkward laugh before he stumbled his way to business, "I couldn't sleep-, I was around and-," he groaned in frustration as his hands curled into tight fists by his side. "I'm making a mess of this, I should just go-," he said apologetically, red tinting his cheeks as he turned to leave.
A soft smile coated Dorian's lip as he watched Ferron's flustered display. It was endearing to him. "Nonsense, Ferron, I always have time for you." He spoke softly, encouraging Ferron to continue with whatever request he had. He watched as the elf moved rigidly to the side of the bed.
Ferron took a deep breath and continued, "Would you like some company tonight?" He spoke quickly, but once he realized what he could have implied, he shook his head furiously and let out another nervous laugh, "Not like that! I mean, not that I don't want to- I mean, ugh." He exhaled audibly, attempting to gather himself once more.
Dorian started before he had a chance to further embarrass himself, "I know what you meant, Ferron." He paused for a brief moment before his curiosity got the better of him, "I must ask, is it the horrors of the Fade mixing with your-,"
"I just don't want to be alone tonight, is all." Ferron cut him off, knowing what Dorian was going to imply. Perhaps he was right, but Ferron didn't want to connect the two; not that he was embarrassed about his vise. Dorian knew about it because Ferron told him, but he didn't want Dorian to think that he was Ferron's keeper. He had been dealing with this form of anxiety disorder since he was little, and he had to do it alone. Ferron wasn't about to burden Dorian with the responsibility. He knew he had good intentions, but that didn't change his thinking.
Dorian nodded in understanding, "Well, these beds are not exactly as large as mine back home, but I suppose there is room for one more." He moved the covers back so Ferron could slide in. Dorian scooted over and rolled to his side so his back was facing the Inquisitor.
Ferron knew that the bed could fit three Dorians plus one Sera, but he wasn't going to argue. He was relieved that Dorian didn't make a big deal about this, nor did he reject him entirely. He slowly crawled onto the mattress and tucked himself into the sheets. He laid on his back, looking up at the ceiling. Sleep was still out of his reach. After a few moments of staring into the darkness, he turned his head towards Dorian and whispered his name, almost inaudibly.
Dorian was luckily not yet asleep, "Yes?" he answered within seconds. He didn't turn to look at Ferron, and he was greeted by silence. He figured that Ferron finally fell asleep, and he was going to do the same when the Inquisitor quietly responded.
"Can you- uh, maybe- hold me?" There was that nervous tone again, the words themselves were strange, but his tone was sincere. He didn't respond immediately because he was trying to find the best way to ask, all the while debating if he should ask at all. He was pleasantly surprised when he heard Dorian turning against the mattress.
Dorian was facing Ferron now. His arms surrounded the elf, pulling him inward against his chest. His lips feathered over Ferron's cheek before he nuzzled his jaw line with his nose, nestling close to him. Ferron relaxed in his warmth, grateful that Dorian didn't give him grief for wanting to snuggle, even though they never had done such a thing before. Ferron just didn't peg him as a cuddler, but he was good at it. "Thank you, Dorian," Ferron whispered as his eye lids grew heavy with sleep. For the first time since he came to Skyhold, Ferron was actually comfortable before he fell asleep.
"Anything for you," he whispered lowly, so low that Ferron wondered if he meant to say it. His heart fluttered in his chest- perhaps there was an upside to this destiny that had been bestowed upon him.