Chapter Text
It had been raining nonstop as they scoured the Storm Coast, seeking Red Templars and their disgusting red lyrium sources. It's been several weeks since the party had stone as a roof instead of flimsy canvas, and Dorian was absolutely over this excursion. At first it wasn't so bad. He and Vivienne had concocted a lovely warmth spell that enveloped the party, keeping them cozy and dry. However, the Templars seemed to sense this weave of magical energy, and Maxwell had pulled out his Inquisitor voice after the fourth ambush. “No magic outside of defense.” Dorian was appalled to say the least, and he made it known.
His complaints started off by falling on deaf ears, but eventually Bull started to growl every time he opened his mouth. The growls set Vivienne on edge, who still held her grace even if her glares were a little more piercing than usual. That aura of hatred worked in Dorian’s favor, reaching the usually untouchable Inquisitor. Dorian suspected that another day and a half of his obnoxious complaining would break Bull, the domino effect will strike the Inquisitor and they'd be allowed the warmth spell again. Dorian had years to master this technique and he was sure it was going to work.
“If you don't shut the fuck up, Vint, I'm going to turn you inside out.” Bull snapped the next morning when Dorian complained about their lack of good breakfast food. Maxwell closed his eyes tightly as Vivienne drew in her breath, bracing her patience. Dorian felt the dynamic switch and lunged for it.
“It's cold, we’re wet, and miserable, is it so hard to ask for one small luxury?” Dorian snapped, crossing his arms. He saw the Inquisitor ponder for a second, and truly he was the Inquisitor in this moment. Maxwell was confidently tucked away for moments like these, which was good. Dorian couldn't fight Max, but he could fight the Inquisitor. Eagerly, it so happened.
“My dear, I wasn't aware you knew what luxury was, coming from Tevinter.” The enchanter said gracefully, face not betraying her emotions. It wasn't the worst she could do but he could use it. The Inquisitor looked pained, knowing the ammo she had supplied him. The glint in Vivienne's eyes said she knew as well. Whether she deigned to acknowledge it was not important to Dorian.
“Excuse you?” He squawked, glaring at her. “I'll have you know-”
“We’re moving out, now.” The Inquisitor interrupted. Well fine, Dorian could continue this ploy in a moment. They packed up, Dorian huffing as he did, earning growls from Bull. About forty five minutes later, when the mood had settled and hackles were lowered, Dorian attacked again.
“This is vile. We’ve already been this way. Why are we backtracking.”
“We're being thorough.” The inquisitor replied stiffly, taking an apple out of his pack as they stopped under some rocks for some reprieve from the constant downpour.
Dorian waited a few moments as the Inquisitor scouted ahead, using his hunting knife to cut slices of the under ripe apple away to eat, his nose wrinkling at the sour taste. He returned just in time for Dorian to think of a new complaint. “I have needs, you're aware. I'd consider Bull, but since we haven't bathed since we left Skyhold…” Bull groaned and Vivienne made a scoff of disapproval. The Inquisitor glowered at him, and Dorian knew that if he pushed too far, Maxwell would be angry as well. But he sensed it, the breaking point, to let them have the damn spell. They started out again, and Dorian huffed and whined and made noises of disapproval, pushing the parties tensions to breaking point. Now, he just needed to put the final nail in the coffin…
He huffed dramatically before stopping, leaning on his staff. “You know what I don't understand?” he started, fully intending to barrel on without a reply, especially since he assumed none of them would deign to reply.
“Subtly?”
Max was smirking over his shoulder. Dorian's mouth dropped open slightly, and from his right he heard Vivienne snicker, honest to the Maker snicker, at his expense. Bull was a bit late to the joke, having slipped in the mind set of “ignore” but when he caught it, his laughter echoed off the rocky cliffs sides. It startled a flock of birds into flight.
“I, of course not, that I understand-” he scrambled to regain his progress. He had been so close!
“Do you?” Maxwell grinned, winking at him as he sliced off another piece of the apple, offering it on the knife to Vivienne. She considered it for a moment before taking it up with graceful fingers, biting into it with a smirk at Dorian. he greatly underestimated his foes, it seems. He forgot the most important thing about Maxwell being Inquisitor: the Inquisitor was only Maxwell, no matter his masks. And Maxwell? He knew how to lead. And how to deal with Dorian.
Dorian had to concede, with a pout,
“To answer your earlier question, Dorian, we’re backtracking to go home.”
“Oh, thank the Maker.”
“You're still a brat.” Dorian chuckled at Max's words. That he was. And he was sure Max would punish him so properly when they reached Skyhold.