Work Text:
Slips and Steps
“You’re worried.”
“Ah, Cole. Nice to see you. Did you just leave your usual post in the tavern to poke around my head? Or did something else bring you up here?”
“I slipped honey into Leliana’s wine. Life was brighter, then. She didn’t see the shadows behind all of the glittering.”
“Just so you know, it’s probably best not to let everyone in on what the spymaster is thinking, being the center of all the information in Skyhold and all that.”
“Why?”
“If an enemy overhears you as you are trying to help her, others might end up getting hurt,” he tried to explain. Of course, he knew that anyone who overheard would likely end up forgetting soon after, as was often the case when Cole was involved, but a little extra caution was always a good idea when the spymaster was involved.
“Oh,” Cole replied and gave a little nod as if committing it to memory before looking up at Dorian again, more intent and no longer off in his own little world. “You’re worried since he hasn’t come to see you yet.”
Right. Back in my head, then. Dorian sighed. “The Inquisitor is a busy man. I’m certain he simply has more pressing demands for his time,” he replied, and Cole looked down again, fidgeting with his hands as he stood in front of Dorian.
“Unsure and unsteady. Move faster or slower? Thinking too much… Or maybe not enough?” Cole murmured, looking down again as he fidgeted with his hands, and Dorian couldn’t quite tell whose mind Cole was pulling from anymore. “He’s worried too.”
“Right. So am I to help him? Or are you trying to help me?”
“Yes.”
“Which?”
“Both,” Cole replied, and Dorian had to repress another sigh. Honestly, it was fascinating speaking with Cole, a one-of-a-kind spirit, but there were times that it was exhausting to try to decipher what the young man said. Still, Dorian tried to keep in mind that it was probably just as exhausting for Cole to understand anything said by anyone else. Perhaps it would become easier on both sides over time.
“Alright. What do you suggest I do, then?”
“He’s by the kitchens,” Cole said by way of reply. “He’d rather be with you, too,” he added before vanishing into thin air, and Dorian wondered if that would ever stop startling him. Unlikely, since he’d watched Cole disappear on the battlefield and then reappear with his daggers in someone’s back a few too many times to be comfortable.
Dorian lingered in his little nook a while longer, taking his time rearranging notes and putting away books before heading down towards the kitchens. He tried not to think about the slight twisting in his stomach, but it was hard not to. After all, why had Kaaras already gone down to the kitchens? Sure, they had no official commitment, but it had become something of a routine in the last couple of weeks for them to get dinner together once Kaaras had finished in the war room.
As Dorian made his way down, he tried not to think too much about what it meant that he was upset—no, upset was too strong a word. Bothered. Very slightly bothered—that Kaaras had stood him up. Well, not exactly since they hadn’t formally agreed to meet, but it had been implied given the routine they’d fallen into.
Oh, blast. Dorian was upset and afraid that he really had been stood up. Maker take him, he went and got himself attached to the man like some doe-eyed, innocent fool.
For just a moment, Dorian found himself wishing that the Tal-Vashoth were a little more like the rampaging, blood-thirsty Qunari everyone expected him to be and a little less pleasant to look at. Maybe then Dorian could just be about his business in the library and not fretting over their… liaison.
Maker, wasn’t Cole supposed to be helpful? But then Dorian remembered what Cole had said last, that Kaaras would rather be with him too. So perhaps he was just worrying over nothing.
As he stepped down into the stairwell between the main hall and Josephine’s office, he realized that was the case.
“Inquisitor, you do at least recall the first few steps of La Courante? I showed those to you a few weeks ago.”
“That’s… the hopping one?” came Kaaras’s reply, and Dorian could almost hear Josephine repress a heavy sigh before her voice echoed again.
“I believe you are mistaken, Inquisitor. La Courante is a rapid but graceful dance. It is much like a ballet,” she replied with the grace of a professional diplomat, but Dorian stepped into the room just in time to catch Kaaras’s blank stare that said two things just as clearly as if he had said it aloud: One, what in the Maker’s name is a “ballet,” and, two, please tell me I don’t have to learn how to do that as well.
Dorian tried so hard not to laugh, but as it was, he still let out an undignified snort that made both the Inquisitor and his ambassador turn towards him. Josephine was trying very hard not to look frustrated even as she favored her right foot—Dorian withheld a wince at the thought of all of the Vashoth’s weight landing on the ambassador’s petite foot—and Kaaras just looked relieved to see Dorian. Apparently what Cole had said was supposed to be taken far more literally than he’d imagined. Surprising, since the spirit tended to speak in vague metaphors.
“My dear Josephine, I’m afraid that using one dance to explain another to him will leave both his head and feet all the more muddled.”
“Ah, Dorian. Do you have a moment? Perhaps you would be willing to assist me in teaching the Inquisitor how to dance,” she asked with only the faintest edge of pleading in her voice, and Dorian nodded.
“We can’t have him beheaded at the Winter Palace for accidentally crushing the Council of Heralds beneath his boots in the ballroom,” he replied before grinning just a little. “Unless, of course, they are the assassins, in which case, feel free to crush away.” This time, Josephine did sigh, but Dorian just waived her off. “Now, now. Don’t be like that. I am helping, after all. So, Inquisitor, why don’t we start with what you do know.”
“That’s,” Kaaras started before glancing away, avoiding eye contact like it was the Blight and fidgeted. He looked more like a child desperately trying to think of a way out of being scolded than the leader of an army.
Dorian fought valiantly to keep back a laugh, but was unable to suppress a smirk.
“Inquisitor, please, you must learn to dance if you are to navigate the ball at the Winter Palace without offending all of Orlais,” Josephine chastised, finally letting her exasperation show, and Kaaras gave her an apologetic look.
“I just don’t have a chance to practice while I’m out in the field,” he tried to explain, and Dorian couldn’t help imagining Kaaras practicing dancing while sloshing through the Fallow Mire. Somehow he managed not to laugh.
“He’s quite right, you know. None of our enemies would make very good dance partners. They serve much better as target practice.”
“Time to practice or not, the players of The Game will not be forgiving, and if we are to save the Empress and convince Orlais that the Inquisition is a force worthy of recognition, then no details may be overlooked.”
Kaaras almost looked like he was in physical pain as he nodded. His ambassador was right, after all. Excuses wouldn’t earn the Inquisition any favor.
“Come now, Inquisitor. Your penmanship has drastically improved in a very short time. Surely you’ll be able to manage to learn something as simple as a dance between now and the ball,” Dorian encouraged, and watched with fascination and a growing smirk as Kaaras’s face tightened with a repressed smile and turned just a shade darker.
“Is your penmanship poor, Inquisitor?” Josephine asked, and Dorian raised a brow. Could Leliana be the only other one who knew about the truth of Kaaras’s background? “If you like, I could send for a scribe so that you could dictate any letters you need to write. Or I could arrange for an instructor to help you improve,” she offered. Dorian saw the pleased flush drain from the Tal-Vashoth’s face as he became more anxious, and Dorian hurried to cover for his own slip-up.
“Ambassador, allow the man to tackle just one issue at a time, won’t you? He is obviously having enough trouble thinking about his feet without also concerning himself with his hands. Now, perhaps he simply needs to watch a demonstration of how to do it properly. Shall we?” he suggested, bowing and extending a hand to Josephine. She curtsied and followed Dorian’s lead as Kaaras looked on.
Really, he found it more dizzying to watch them rather than helpful, even as they explained what they were doing step by step, but at least they weren’t talking about his handwriting anymore.
Still, watching Dorian dance certainly gave him plenty of motivation to learn the steps. He wanted to dance with the mage himself.
Preferably without breaking the man’s foot.
Honestly, there were about a million things that he wanted to do with the Tevinter, but he was about as skilled at navigating relationships as he was at dancing. He kept second-guessing himself. After all, the last few months had been La Courante all on their own, and Kaaras certainly never imagined that he would end up trying to pursue a relationship with someone in the middle of all of it.
Not that Kaaras was complaining. If anything, he was the happiest he’d ever been, but he found himself at a loss more often than not when it came to this fledgling thing between himself and Dorian. So he found himself treading carefully, only asking for permission to kiss the mage every tenth time he thought about it when they were alone, and determinedly refraining from asking for more than what Dorian had already feely given.
After all, while Kaaras was always wanting so much more, he was also technically the one in a position of power—not that he felt like anything more than a nobody Tal-Vashoth—and he had to be careful not to abuse that position. Especially since he really did care for Dorian. So Kaaras would go at whatever pace the Tevinter set, be it the dizzying pace of La Courante, or the more sedate steps of La Gavotte.
Either way, he would be more than happy to muddle his way through with Dorian and do his best not to step on anyone’s toes.