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The first time they'd met, he'd cocked an arrow in his face. What started as mutual hatred, turned into something Dorian couldn't comprehend.
Defensive. That was a good word to describe Dorian Pavus.
Suspicious. That was a good word to describe Assan Lavellan.
Spoiled noble was also a good way of referring to Dorian Pavus.
Savage elf was also a good way of referring to Assan Lavellan.
Their meeting had been tense. Dorian was used to hatred being spewed at him when people realised he was from Tevinter, and a mage at that, but the hatred in which the Dalish elf had received him almost disturbed him. It was like his existence was a personal insult to the Herald of Andraste.
Assan had had hardly any time to assess the strange mage in front of him before they were battling an onslaught of demons pouring from a rift. He had looked over his shoulder as he loosed arrows into demons, over the head of Sera as she ducked and weaved through the horde. Cassandra defended him from behind as Solas shot spell after spell at the demons, but Assan had kept his eyes on the tanned mage as he closed the rift with the mark on his hand. He was familiar.
“That is incredible. How does it work exactly?”
Dorian remembered how Assan had glared at the Tevene accent in his voice. How he'd lodged an arrow in his bow and strung it, shouting“Emma shem'nan!” and pointing an arrow directly between his eyes, snarling like a beast
“Ar tu na'din! Do not come any closer to me Magister,” he had growled.
“Suspicious I see,” he had replied casually. “I'll say this once, I am not a Magister, merely a mage from Tevinter. I know it seems like the same thing to Southerners but honestly it just makes you sound like barbarians.”
“You'd know all about barbarians now wouldn't you?” Assan scoffed. “I'm not any ordinary Southerner, and believe me, I've met enough of your kind to know you're dangerous.”
“I bet what you knew about Tevinter mages could fit into a – ”
“Ma emma harel!” Assan had snarled, fire in his eyes. “Do not test me Pavus!”
That had stopped Dorian short. This elf, this savage Dalish elf, knew who he was? He seemed none too happy with that either.
“I know what you are, and you won't ensnare me with your blood magic. If you give me a single cause to loose this arrow I will kill you instantly.”
“I...I understand. Truly.” He did, he understood his suspicion was not a simple Tevitner hatred the Southerners nurtured, but instead, for whatever reason, it was personal. “But how do you know I am of House Pavus?”
Assan sneered. “You mean it's not obvious? It's written all over your face,”
“You’ve...obviously dealt with my family before,”
Assan's eyes flashed with fury. “You could say that.”
Dorian would only find out many months later what that meant.
“Well, in that case, introductions are hardly necessary.” he went on, his tone particularly cheery for one staring death in the face. “Dorian Pavus, at your service. You'll be happy to know, that I'm not like whatever other members of my family you've met.”
“We'll see about that.” Assan said, and slowly lowered his bow.
That had been the beginning of their tense relationship. After that day, when they weren't making snide remarks at each other or sneering at one another, they kept far away from each other at all times. Dorian kept to himself mostly, and that was fine with him. He stayed in his graciously given quarters at Haven, not wanting to push what fragile ground he stood on with the Inquisition and cause trouble. He tried to recall ever seeing the Dalish before, or any member of his family mentioning one. There must have been a reason he hated his family so much, but Dorian could think of nothing. One day he was surprised when he heard his name being called as he was walking outside of Haven to collect herbs for potions.
“Lord Pavus,” the Dalish said, clenching his jaw when he said his name. “I heard you were going alone for healing herbs. It's been advised to me that I should accompany you.”
“There's no need. I can tell neither of us would be happy with the arrangement,” Dorian said stiffly.
“Ah. Well, about that,” the elf said looking uncomfortable. “I may believe...that I have acted unfairly towards you. I would like to come with you, if you permit.”
Dorian raised his eyebrows. Now that was something new.
“If you wish.”
The elf actually looked relieved when he gave his approval and followed him as he continued over the snow-covered hills.
“What are we looking for?” he asked.
“Mostly elfroot, we're in short supply,” Dorian replied.
The elf nodded. They walked in silence for a moment before Dorian had to ask. “You seemed convinced in your conviction of me, what changed your mind?”
The elf sighed. “I've had Leliana keep an eye on you, and her reports have come back empty. It's been a few months and you've caused no trouble, been nothing but helpful. It could be a ploy but I doubt it would be one so elaborate, Tevinters are hardly that subtle. So, I think I may have misjudged you. I...hope you can forgive my suspicion Lord Pavus,”
“It wouldn't be the first time someone's hated me on principle,” Dorian said mildly. “No harm done. And please don't call me that. Dorian is fine.”
A relieved look crossed his tattooed face as he nodded. “Ma serannas.” he smiled.
“I suppose that means thank you,” Dorian chuckled.
Assan ducked his head. “Sorry, I’m not used to being around so many shemlen, the common tongue often escapes me. I'll try to speak less elvish, it must bother you.”
“Not at all. It's quite fascinating. And perhaps just a smidgeon adorable,”
Assan flushed. There was a pleasant pause between them as they went about their search on the snowy grounds.
“It's come to my attention that I don't even know your name Herald,” Dorian said.
“Ah, Herald. That title brings a sour taste to my mouth,” the elf said looking displeased. “Such an insult to my Gods. I'd never hear the end of it if my clan ever heard. My full name is Era'Assan Lavellan, hunter and scout of clan Lavellan in the Free Marches. Or I was anyway. So many people don't use my name any more I'm beginning to forget it,”
“At least it won't get worn out,” Dorian chuckled.
Assan smiled. “But Herald might.”
Now that they had a moment, Dorian observed the strange tattoos that covered the elf's face. One half of Assan's face was nearly completely covered in teal ink with the exception of a few winding vine-like patterns of bare skin, that likewise was mirrored on the other side in teal ink with the rest of the skin bare. His eyes were deep green and his sun-kissed face was framed by deep mahogany hair that was long enough to fall into his eyes, in a way that was utterly adorable and handsome at the same time. He was very pleasing on the eyes, Dorian decided.
“Era'Assan, is that right?” Dorian said, testing the foreign name on his tongue.
Assan chuckled. “Your pronunciation is terrible,” he teased.
“It's quite the name,”
“My mother named me. It means dream arrow.” a delicate blush formed over his cheeks, that Dorian decided he liked too. “She used to be our Keeper, and always wanted me to show magical talent, sadly I'm about as magical as a toadstool. If it's easier, just call me Assan. I know Elvish names are hard for shemlen to say.”
“You've encountered many then?”
“More than I like in recent history, that's for sure.” Assan frowned. “But, I'm beginning to...warm up to them. Though I prefer Solas's company to Cassandra's.”
“No surprise there. Woman's as sour and dour as a priest,” Dorian commented.
Assan chuckled.
“I must say, those are interesting markings.”
“Ah, my vallaslin. Yes, they're very interesting to the shem I've met so far. I imagine I must look strange to you,” Assan responded, almost mechanically so.
“Not strange exactly. You're quite easy on the eye actually,” Dorian grinned.
That delicate blush that had nearly faded by now flared up again. He laughed nervously.
“You'd be the first to say so.” he grinned. “You're not so bad yourself, for a shem.”
Dorian continued to grin. “Golden praise from you. May I enquire as to what those markings are? Solas doesn't have them, nor does Sera, so I'm guessing it's not an elf thing.”
“A Dalish thing.” Assan replied. “We use our markings to honour our Gods. In mine I honour the All-Father Elgar'nan.”
“Quite interesting,” Dorian said.
“Is that the polite response?” Assan teased.
“Perhaps, but also an honest one. I have not met one of the Dalish before. The only elves I've ever seen were...well...”
Assan's eyes hardened. “Slaves. Of course. Your household must have had many.”
“I...” at the harsh look on Assan's face, Dorian felt at a loss for words.
“It is Tevinter, it is hardly uncommon.” Assan said with a deliberate shrug and forced tone of dismissal. “My people have suffered at shemlen hands for generations, I do not expect that to change with one act.”
“The Hero of Fereldan was Dalish was she not? It seems your people are quite remarkable,” Dorian offered.
Assan gave a smile. “That's something at least.”
They walked on in silence, and as the sun rose higher in the sky and the gathering became slow, they began to talk.
“Don't know how you stand this cold,” Dorian said casually.
Assan chuckled. “Your Tevinter robes aren't up for the snow Dorian? Hardly surprising, it's so hot in Tevinter. Shouldn't you have expected this?”
“Well I left in sort of a hurry.” Dorian replied briskly, not forgetting that Assan somehow knew the weather in Tevinter. “I was on the run.”
“On the run? From what?”
“My family namely, but also the Imperium itself. I refused to play their game and because of that I am not welcome.”
“Ah. Can't imagine that went down well,” Assan said, a teasing smirk on his face that Dorian was beginning to like.
“Naturally.”
“Well, it's their loss.” Assan shrugged, picking more leaves to add to their bag.
“I'm sure they wouldn't share your sentiment,” Dorian said.
“If there is just one of someone like you to every three magisters in Tevinter, the Imperium might be able to change. On its own...it'll destroy the world, and itself if given the chance.”
“You seem to know a great deal of Tevinter,” Dorian tried to sound casual, but the words came as an accusation no matter how he phrased them.
“It would seem.” was the only answer Assan gave him.
“...Yet you let me join the Inquisition.”
“Well...I'm not so stupid as to turn down intelligent help when its needed, I also kept you close so I could monitor you. Keep your enemies closer and all that. But now...I'm willing to put aside my past grievances for the sake of the world. Nationality is such a petty concern when facing a tear in the sky after all,” there was that teasing grin again, and this time Dorian returned it.
“Then I think we'll get along swimmingly.”
Assan chuckled.
And just like that, that was the beginning of their friendship.