A little Inquisitor/Dorian, as my Secret Santa gift to @dalenlavellan!
Dorian flipped the next page in the compressed stack of drivel that made up the book in his lap. It was yet another fruitless endeavor to find an answer for a question he had forgotten. His eyelids drooped, fingers limped, and he could feel his whole form sinking into the chair cushions.
The library was deathly quiet. There were fewer souls wandering the halls, their footsteps ghosted along the floor with barely a tap. The usual bitter, ice-laced winds of the Southern were tamed, their normal whips barely a flutter on the castle walls. Even the Spymaster's birds were behaving themselves in the rookery next door; the occasional caw was muted by distance. It was everything Dorian wanted, not that asking for a quiet study was so unreasonable a thing. Yet now that he had it, he found the peace dreary and unsettling.
"It's too quiet," he muttered to himself, then groaned as soon as the words escaped him. He rubbed his temples in disgust. "How terribly cliché."
He tried to shake away the ring of haze over his head and get back to his studies. The words started to blur and blend together. He took his finger and ran across paragraphs to find his place again, but the sentences smudged. What this book was even about was lost to him, the cover had gone conveniently blank. So he dropped it at the foot of his chair, circled around the bookshelf and began looking for something more coherent.
He began to eye the spine of a more promising tone, when a small clack shuttered his senses. It was a tiny sound, a slight chipping of stone, but isolated in this unusually quiet day. First he shrugged it off, then another little tip resounded. He paused, waiting for one more before deciding it was worth investigating, but then there was nothing. "Can't focus today," he sighed. "Perhaps I should count my losses and head to the bar."
"No, wait!" a voice pleaded, it worried urgency echoed throughout the hollow study room.
Dorian shook at the sudden speech. He turned back to his seat and saw a hook, craned over the window, that same chipping sound from before as it struggled to keep its place. The hook was attached to a chain, and it gave a shuddering, strained clink, suspending some unknown weight.
"Wait, just... hold on a moment," the voice whimpered.
Dorian's brow curled. "Amatus?"
A single gloved hand emerged from the other side of the tower to grasp at the window pane. Within its palm, a crack faint green light poked through the tiny spaces in the stitching. A clear indication of identity.
"Amatus!" Dorian cried as he rushed over. He stuck his head out the window, dipping his head out into the freezing outdoors, but he ignored the unpleasantness to see the Inquisitor, and rescue him if need be.
Which he didn't. Dorian looked down and followed the lanky arms, hanging from the grey tower bricks. "Are you... climbing up the tower?"
Inquisitor Niall Trevelyan cracked a smile as he looked up, his non-glowing hand letting go of his grappling hook and reaching for Dorian. "I prefer the term 'scaling'. Makes it sound more romantic. Help me up?"
"Not until you tell me why you're doing this," he answered with a frown. "Stupid me, I actually thought you were in some kind of danger at first."
"Aww, I didn't mean to scare you. I just thought it would be... you know, romantic."
"Is this a Marcher thing? Needless boasting of athletic prowess?"
"What? No, I was going for more of a courtly angle. Like in the books."
"Oh, for... what books?"
"All of them?"
Dorian scoffed and began walking away. "Not in any books I've ever read."
"Clearly I did wrongfully assume something, as this played out differently in my head. Now about that help? Or do you intend to watch me dangle?"
"No need to fuss," Dorian sighed as he reached for Niall and pulled him by the wrists. "I was going to help you eventually."
"Thank you...for eventually helping me, then," Niall huffed once his feet stood firmly on the library floor. He looked around, picking up on the unusual stillness that surrounded them. "I wasn't interrupting anything important, was I?"
"Even if it was, I couldn't tell you," Dorian groaned, residing back to his chair, spine slumping. "I must have read every book in this bloody place. I thought there was more I could find about Corypheus, some weakness, some... something we could use. But my head is jumbled with useless trivialities."
"I'm sure that's not true, and you've helped plenty already. In fact, why don't you take a break? I think maybe you're just a little frustrated from being cooped up in here."
"Says the man who should be leading this little world-saving outfit, and somehow finds time between strategy-making and battles to do... whatever that display was."
"I knew I should have stuck with the lute and serenaded you from below, but this castle's acoustics aren't up to snuff."
"I didn't know you could sing."
"I probably can't, never done it in my life, unless singing the Chant counts. But now you'll never found out. You've gone and hurt my feelings."
"What are we doing, Amatus?" Dorian sighed, his frown sloping further, burdened by the crinkles in his brow. "There's so much at stake, there's no time to waste on all this nonsense. It's not as though I'm accustomed to... wooing, or this attempt at it. No sense trying to spoil me with things I don't know. You have better things to do."
Niall shook his head and chuckled. Dorian winced, watching the Inquisitor kneel by the arm of his chair, smiling. "You severely overestimate my contribution to the Inquisition. Josephine's probably been a bigger help than I, and I still sort of think Cassandra should have been made Inquisitor."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" he huffed, arms crossed.
"I was going more for humbling. I don't think any one person will be finding one weak spot of Corypheus's to exploit and save the day so we can all go home."
"That's still no reason for me to slack. I couldn't have come all this way just to give the most minimal of efforts. You may not think so, Amatus, but you deserve more from me. Perhaps more than I'm able to give."
"Enough of that talk," Niall cooed softly, taking Dorian's limp hand from off the chair's arm and putting it against his face. "You're as important part of this as anyone else. I see you put your heart into things, and I know how hard you try." He stopped for a moment, rubbed his freckled cheek in Dorian's cupped palm, then kissed his knuckles. "And I wouldn't have gotten this far without your help. I believe this to be true."
"You do make... a rather compelling argument," Dorian said reluctantly, warm murmurs crossing through slowly smiling lips. "Although what's this talk of us all going home? Who said I was going anywhere?"
"I was thinking you'd head back to Minrathous once this was done, but I didn't intend to bring it up. Didn't want to dwell on it."
"You don't need to worry about that. I might be frustrated with my progress, but not desperate. You can't be rid of me that easily."
"Glad we're on the same page, then," Niall cheered, making a playful hop, from off his kneeling position, springing himself towards Dorian's face.
Dorian's accepted his arrival with pursed lips, humming between breaths. "Well, you've convinced me, Amatus. A break seems to be in order. After all, a mind such as mine shouldn't go to waste with fatigue."
"Glad you finally see things my way."
Dorian smiled, the weary cracks in his face started to melt. He stood up from the sink of his chair, took Niall by the wrist, and led him out the library. "Come along, then. I have some better ways to relax than climbing up towers in a strange attempt to seduce me."
"It was at least a little funny though, wasn't it? Maybe you'll look back on this day and laugh."
"I'm already laughing on the inside."
***
Dorian stepped out from the crowded council room with a relieved gasp, like he was breaching for air. Magisters poured out after him, but he sped his steps and fled from the rush. A few sidesteps through seldom-entered halls, and he was alone again, free to breathe his own air.
It was a cold yet comforting sort of quiet, in the vast, dark and gold painted hall. Statues loomed over ever archway, their dire and dramatic poses melded with the walls. It was a closed off space and thoroughly sealed, the beating of the ocean and howling of winds could not breech the walls.
A slight thrum resounded from beneath the layers of his clothing, and the following shuddering motion prodded gently upon his chest. He looked down and saw the subtle glow of his crystal pendant, a light green color poking through the seams of fabric. Dorian blinked rapidly, unsure if he was seeing it correctly, by the crystal persisted, flickering like a tiny torch. With a wave of urgency over him, he fished it from underneath his cloak.
"Oh, Amataus, I'm so sorry," he said into the crystal. "I know I haven't been free to talk often as of late. It's been a long and strenuous strong of weeks. Please understand..." The crystal continued to flicker, but no voice followed, as it was supposed to. "Please don't give me the silent treatment. You know this is just as difficult for me as it is for you. I did miss you, I do miss you..." Still nothing. "All right, now you're just being cruel. Maker, I hope he didn't activate it by sitting on it again..."
"Outside," a wisp of a voice emanated from the crystal.
"Beg pardon? Niall, is that even you? What sort of game are you getting at?"
"Outside, near the water!" it cheered. With clearer projection, Dorian could tell it was Niall's voice. He sprinted down the hall, towards the side of the building that faced the ocean. "He didn't," he panted. "He never said anything about visiting..."
He flung the balcony doors opened and was greeted by a muted seascape. Crashing foam on jagged rocks in the distance. Thin clouds dissipating against a grey sky. An anticipated vision of Niall climbing atop the tower popped into his mind, but he shook it away. It was a ridiculous fancy. He has only done that once, and it was so long ago.
"Down here!" the voice cried, not from the crystal, but from beneath.
Dorian wrapped his hands around the railway and teetered his head down. He found Niall at the base of the tower. Distance of the long stretch of smooth stone faded his features, but his smile was a brightness among all the political dreary grey. Dorian squinted and saw that Niall had a grappling hook curled along his left shoulder, unused and spilling over his tucked in arm sleeve.
"I, uh, couldn't find the door," he shouted, "or a hook or some irregularity to climb with. Romantic surprise ruined, but if it's all the same, why don't you come down?"
