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9:42 Dragon, Skyhold, Frostback Mountains, Ferelden/Orlesian border, Thedas
The afternoon’s festivities had long ago given away to evening shenanigans, and unsurprisingly, the Great Hall seemed even more crowded than before. The Inquisitor had lost track with how many nobles and others he had spoken over the hours, and he was still he was being approached by strangers. He’d given up tracking the time and somehow managed to keep a pleasant smile of interest plastered to his face throughout it all.
But deep inside, he understood he had crept up on his limit for socializing.
Recognition of this came in the middle of a conversation with Lord Gerard LeFevre and his vainglorious son whose incessant prattle bordered upon the absurd. If he had to continue to listen to the sanctimonious pair imply that their aid to the Inquisition as indispensable (considering how Josephine had practically had to turn screws to get their compliance more than proved the opposite!), he was going to cause an international incident the likes of which Orlais and the Free Marches might never recover from!
And to think, his family thought they hadn’t brought him up with manners befitting a noble. If only they see him now.
The brush of color against his peripheral vision pulled his attention from the conversation as the Ambassador herself made her way across the room. Briefly, Maxwell wondered what she was up to, but that curiosity faded as soon as he saw her slip through the doors leading from the Great Hall into her office.
And with that, an idea formed. “I apologize, my lord,” Maxwell murmured, dipping his head politely as he interrupted their tag-team description of some element of their participation in events, “but if you will excuse me, Ambassador Montilyet needs my assistance.”
He did not wait for a response, simply turning away and ducking into the crowd to weave his way after Josephine. At the last moment, he thought he might not make it when Varric took a step in his direction, but Maxwell was as quick and agile as any rogue, and he slipped beyond the doorway before the dwarf could figure out where he’d gone.
Leaning his back heavily against the door to Josephine’s office now closed behind him, he heaved a sigh of relief.
Surprisingly, he found the room empty; no sign of Josephine anywhere to be found. Where she had gone was beyond him, but it was probably just as well as it gave him a few minutes free of everyone – including his friends – to gather his wits and pull himself back together. Still, one thing rang with absolute clarity head: there was no way he was going back out into that hall this evening. He’d had enough for the day.
That said, he would still have to go back through the Great Hall to get anywhere else in Skyhold. There were no other exits from this part of the keep.
Sighing heavily, Maxwell stiffened his spine preparing to face the masses once more. He would have to face them again whether he wanted to or not. What was that old saying? The road to the Void is paved with good intentions. Something like that, anyway. Well, perhaps he could focus on tracking down Cullen. If anything, the commander could at least send word to those guarding the gates and doors of the keep that no one else was to be let inside.
He had just pulled the door open and stepped into the small entryway between the Great Hall and Josephine’s office, an area without much in the way of light, when a soft, knowing chuckle to his right trickled upwards. Maxwell was momentarily startled, but that lasted all of a half second as the deep richness of the tone registered. He knew that laugh...
A slow smile crossed his face even though he knew it wouldn’t be seen. “Should I be worried finding you hiding in the deepest darkest places of this keep, Dorian?”
Another laugh, deeper, richer, more amused than before. “I’d wondered where you’d snuck off to, amatus,” Dorian replied as he moved a step or two closer.
Maxwell chuckled. It was the first time in what felt like hours that he felt... calm. “Did you now?”
An arm slid around Maxwell’s waist, expertly finding its target in the dark and gently tugging him close, leaning in until their foreheads touched. “Little did I imagine it would be to visit our lovely ambassador.”
A soft sigh slipped past Maxwell’s lips as he relaxed into his lover’s embrace. He didn’t bother to correct him – whether Josephine was present in her office or not was beside the point – and instead gave a noncommittal grunt in response.
But then Dorian surprised him. In a gentler and more concerned tone, he asked, “Something troubling you?”
It wasn’t as if Dorian wasn’t aware of Maxwell’s... social anxieties, for lack of a better way to describe them. The man had witnessed Maxwells near panic the first time he’d held judgment in front of everyone at Skyhold, after all. And they’d discussed it upon occasion, usually amusing anecdotes from Dorian’s past to help Maxwell deal with rougher moments in his own past. But to have him here right now, when he needed it most... well, Maxwell was grateful beyond words.
Turning his head slightly so he could press a gentle kiss of thanks to Dorian’s cheeks, he murmured, “I swear there are twice as many people in that hall now than there were when this party began.”
Dorian’s arm tightened around his middle. “In all honesty,” he replied, “I wouldn’t put it past our lovely ambassador to have invited every noble in Orlais plus the Empress herself to this celebration.”
At least he wasn’t the only one who had noticed.
“You know, amatus, I was thinking...”
Dorian paused slightly, just long enough to give Maxwell an opportunity to counter with some sarcastic comment if he so chose.
Maxwell did not and instead slid his arm around Dorian’s shoulders in return and squeezed gently to have him continue.
“Hmmm, what was I saying? Oh, right.” Maxwell could easily picture the twinkle in his lover’s eyes and the smirk on his lips. “I don’t suppose you would like to sneak out of here, would you? Head up to our rooms while we allow the others to deal with any lingering guests?”
The tinge of amusement that wrapped Dorian’s words were a balm to his nerves, and for just a moment, he thought his legs might give out on him simply because the man he loved most understood – without question – what he needed most and why.
Sucking in a deep breath, Maxwell murmured, “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”
Dorian chuckled – his smugness obvious in the sound – and released his hold only to take one of Maxwell’s hands in his as he tugged the Inquisitor after him.
The move didn’t startle him as much as the direction, however, and he couldn’t help but ask, “Wh-where are we going?”
Leading the way, Dorian took each step one at a time allowing Maxwell to catch up before taking another. By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, there was enough light from the Vaults below seeping into the stairwell that Maxwell could now witness the twinkle in Dorian’s eyes in person. “Don’t tell me you’ve never made it down here in all our time at Skyhold?”
He had, of course, but that had been back in the early days after their arrival. In truth, he’d forgotten about them. “What has this to do with getting to our rooms?”
Dorian turned to the right down a hall that Maxwell vaguely recalled led to the wine cellar. Pulling the Inquisitor inside the room behind him, Dorian pointed to another door, one Maxwell had never seen before. “Did you not wonder where that door in your chambers led to?”
“The door in my...” Maxwell frowned. The door hidden away next to a large keg in the storage area in his room. A door he’d not given any thought to since the day he spotted it and then was distracted as other duties quickly called for his attention.
Of course it led to the wine cellar. Why wouldn’t it?
His laugh was a bit rough and shaky at first – remnants of the stress from which he’d been fleeing – but soon settled into something steady and deep. Moving around Dorian, he grasped the handle and gave it an easy tug until it opened. Peering inside, he found a set of wooden stairs that spiraled upward. “How did you find this?”
“Well, I got curious one day while waiting you were at one of your war councils,” Dorian explained. “Curious and thirsty. I found it exceedingly difficult to believe that the previous owner of this keep did not have a way to go directly to his wine cellar. Imagine my surprise to find that I was correct!”
Spinning back around, Maxwell carefully maneuvered Dorian up against the wall, pinning him there with a kiss. It was, he thought, the perfect gift in this moment – the freedom to avoid the party without anyone finding them. When the kiss broke, he managed a smile as he said, “Maker, do I love you.”
Dorian grinned. “An appropriate reaction, I should say.” Reaching over to the shelf, he grasped a bottle of wine and nudged Maxwell through the door. “Now then, let’s make good use of our time, shall we?”