Chapter Text
It wasn’t until recently that his watching Rancor Adaar was out of fondness.
In Dorian’s early days with the Inquisition he watched him because he was wary of him or to try and understand him. Were there any lingering effects after their little jaunt through time? Was his seemingly endless kindness genuine? What were his politics? What kind of mage was he? Would he kick Dorian to the curb for being a Tevinter mage? Then Corypheus attacked and they found the hidden fortress.
Once everything had settled down in Skyhold it became obvious that the Inquisitor would have to sit in judgement, and Dorian feared the worst fate for Alexius. He wouldn’t blame Rancor for executing him— nearly tearing apart the fabric of time alone would be cause enough for the headman’s ax— but after spending so long under his tutelage it would still hurt. He almost didn’t attend Alexius’ trial. Then he remembered Felix and decided he'd attend for him, so he settled in a doorway and watched from afar.
The Inquisitor was the very image of authority. His wide shoulders were relaxed. His posture was contemplative. He listened with the intent of making a just decision.
Rancor’s eyes were closed in thought for several minutes after Alexius had finished speaking. No sound was heard save for everyone’s breathing. Then-
“Your magic was theoretically impossible, Alexius,” Rancor sounded thoughtful, maybe even… pleased? He leaned forward, “I could use people like you. Your sentence is to serve, under guard, as a researcher on all things magical for the Inquisition.”
Dorian almost couldn’t believe it. Conscription. Not execution. Not even imprisonment. Conscription. He knew Alexius didn’t deserve such kindness, but he couldn’t help but feel relieved. Perhaps his former mentor would be able to find some kind of redemption with the Inquisition. He would have to write Felix.
Later in the evening, Dorian heard footsteps in the stairwell by his unofficially claimed corner of the library. “Hey there,” Helisma and Dorian were the only ones left in the library, so the deep timber of Rancor’s voice reverberated through the room without interruption.
Leaning against his desk Dorian spoke, “I’m told you have Alexius researching magic for you? Research is always what made him happiest. Perhaps I’ll even go talk to him, eventually.” He was getting a bit to serious for his liking. A sly grin crept onto his face, “One word of advice? If he suggests altering time as a way to solve all your problems, give it a pass.” Glibness came easily to Dorian, and it always proved a useful costume for his more serious emotions.
Rancor’s eyes were bright with mirth, “Thanks for the warning, I'll keep that in mind.”
“You'd do well to.” Dorian studied him for a moment, then asked, “Might I ask… Why did you do it?”
Adaar looked at him, “Do what?”
“Conscript Alexius. Maker knows he didn’t deserve it; so why did you do it?”
Rancor’s smile softened, “Ah.” He looked out the window for a moment then spoke, “I remember my mothers telling me they would bring down the moon to keep me safe and I thought Alexius must feel the same way. Misguided and selfish as it was he did do it for his son, so I figured conscription would not only give the Inquisition another brilliant mind, but also mercy for a father who would tear the world apart to try and save his son.”
Now Dorian felt like crying. Damn him for his curiosity. Damn the Inquisitor for his kind heart. Old and new hurts threatened to bubble to the surface, but he didn’t survive Tevinter's courts by being upfront with his emotions. He gave Adaar another lopsided smile, “I truly have found a unicorn haven’t I?”
“Hah! Yes, well,” he pointed to his shorn down horns, “I have two horns, not one.”
“Alas, this is true.” Dorian laughed genuinely now, “Be gentle with me Inquisitor I am not so used to being wrong.”
They smiled at each other for a bit before one of Leliana’s ravens began squawking above them. Rancor pointed upstairs, sighed, and said, “I should go…”
“You know where I’ll be.”