Chapter Text
The minute expression of pity on Leliana’s face when she handed him the letter was enough to let him know that reading the letter would not be pleasing. Potentially Thedas-shattering, if Leliana’s usual cold indifference for him was anything to go off. He knew it was about back home, but couldn’t decide if it was related to his father or the Pavus estate as a whole.
His mind was reeling through all the separate possibilities, and he only made it to the alcove of the library before he had to peel it open- the urgency of his mounting panic precludes his need to save face, and at least the corner was semi-private. They’d all seen him holed up for long enough to understand not to bother him.
The first thought he had when he read the letter was plain by his standards. ‘Oh, good. Felix is out of his misery.’ It was fully automatic and guttural in a way that summoned a disembodied guilt. What an old friend he had become. It didn’t even feal real- just the wisps of something starting to crystalize. He assumed he has about a day or two before reality came crashing down around him. He figured he’d blanket his fogginess around him, let himself divest in the normalcy of work until he was completely, and utterly wrecked.
Someone else was in the library, her hand on the tiny shelf dedicated to the trashy romance novels Varric managed to smuggle in and find a place for. They hardly fit amongst all the academic writing, but at the very least they usually made him amused sitting on the shelf. Cassandra made him smile as well, the way she pretended not to borrow the same book enough times to leave ear-marks, stains, and accidental underlines. And he supposed, the South was making him soft with all it’s innocently joyful drivel.
It finally did hit him- earlier than he expected and in that disembodied analytical state- when he saw Cassandra nod her head at him wordlessly. The action brought him to a distant memory about Felix, but still so visceral that it almost felt like a vision. It was the same way Felix would nod at him when they would sit down to study together. The memory happened many moons ago, when Dorian could barely grow a peach fuzz, but the action was so distinctly him.
She looked at Dorian with concern, her eyebrows pinched up in a way that was distinctly un-Cassandra-like, unless she was looking at something morally akin to a kicked puppy or starving orphan. The combination of loss and self-preservation was enough to make him snap back to it.
“Well, I’m afraid I must retire.” He started, trying to salvage it before she’d seen tears out of him. “It’s a bit late, and by this rate, I’ll be falling asleep with my face pressed up to a genealogy.” The smile was practiced, but the way his heart shattered was not.
“Dorian-“ She started, and before he could let her respond, he’d already covered up the weakness, shuffling the emotions back underneath before they could all come tumbling out to ruin him. Stiff upper lip, and all that. He closed the book with a thud and strode off. His paces were so thorough, so determined, that it would take him five minutes to make it to his room..
He didn’t make it fully in before he finally broke. His face was wet the moment the door was open. He leaned against it as he heaved messy, hot tears from somewhere deeper than his chest. And the soft wails that came out of him, was so violently shattered and undignified, he scarcely even recognized it as his own.
Then, because of course there was and the world couldn’t let him be miserable enough, there was a knock at the door.
“I’m preoccupied.” He was able to sniff out, after a few stabilizing breaths.
“Open the door. I need to speak with you privately.” Cassandra’s Seeker voice, the urgent one she used on the field when she needed to get someone to move. “Please.” She hastily added on, realizing how insistent she sounded.
“Is Skyhold ablaze or the Inquisitor at death’s door?” He glowered, opening the door a crack, letting her see the hints of his kohl smudging. He hoped the bite in his voice and the splotchiness of his face would tell her to fuck off.
“No, but a friend started sobbing in public, which is the same level of emergency. Tell me what is the matter.”
“I’m loosely Andrastian, just not fond of the chantry as an organization. You needn’t proselytize me, much less pretend to care, Seeker.” He was backed into a corner so he bit like a dog. “And in case you need it in simpler terms: leave me.”
Her nostrils flared- he watched her push down the anger with practice, pull herself back from a rash response. It was her fault, really, so he didn’t particularly care to respond to the little nagging inkling of pity.
“If you won’t listen to me as a friend, listen to me as a sister in arms. I will not have you liable to fall tomorrow.” When he realized she had set her noble sensibilities as him as a charge, meaning she wouldn’t leave, he exhaled sharply. Dorian chewed on the inside of his cheek, calculating just how little he could reveal to get her to leave.
“I lost a friend.” And there it hung in the silence. It was worse verbally admitting it- there was no relief in the statement. It was like a morose confirmation, and that his sole utterance could affect the outcome. Like he had spoken the death into existence. Which, logically, he knew had no credence, but the quivering animal part of him felt guilty.
Cassandra reacted immediately, her shoulders squaring down.
“Oh- I’m sorry.” She simply admitted, grasping at straws to reach out to the emotional cantrip that he always was.
“I appreciate it.” His lips flattened together in a single line, trying to hold back the barbs. Bull had started to train him, mentally jousting with him late at night when he was too physically and mentally exhausted to put up walls, the bastard. He would be proud to see his fruit, not that Dorian would ever admit it to him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
And even then, there was the limit to his grace. He slammed the door behind him before he could explode at her, immediately locking it before the conversation could catch up to him.
“Wait, Dorian-“ Cassandra pounded a single time on the door in frustration. He’d never heard her curse, but evidently his abruptness was enough to make her scoff in rage then whisper out one single curse word in Nevarran. “I’ll send the Bull and supper. We’ll revisit this tomorrow.”
“Vehendis, not The Bull.“ The mounting panic in his voice was enough to stall her. There was a pause.
“I won’t. You have my word.” Another pause. “The supper, however, I will leave by your door. Does that suffice?”
The sound of her heavy footsteps fell as she left him, presumably to placate him with mediocre stew.
He cried. He slept. And then, he woke up at dawn. Stared at the ceiling, alternating between curling into a wet ball and his body wracking with sobs and numb silence. The one handkerchief he brought was fully soaked, so he took a handful of the sheets and blew his nose there. Wiped his face. His eyes ached. He slept again, but not restfully.
Again, his body wakes him up sometime around sunrise before the company is scheduled to leave. He took a rough excursion to get some air, as it was only night one and he was already tired of reliving Felix’s childhood. Dorian figured he’d get his body moving and maybe bury himself in another book, this time undisturbed before they took off.
The bread and cheese Cassandra left on his doorstep was equally as unappetizing as the Ferelden brandy she left by his door. Nevertheless, he appreciated the gesture.