Sparkler and the Wolf

2. Revelations

Dorian was drunk. He knew he was drunk and he knew it was pointless but right now he didn't care. He was tired of hearing the snide remarks, seeing the suspicious glares and the constant effort required to shrug it all off. But most of all, he was tired of the loneliness. Tired of being a lone voice in a sea of suspicion and derision and he wasn't sure he could do it anymore.

It didn't help that he'd begun to have inappropriate feelings for the elf either. In fact it was downright suicidal to even think of the elf that way. He shuddered to think what the former slave would do with that particular line of thought, especially from him, the evil mage from Tevinter. He'd tried to ignore it, tried to pretend it was mere fascination over how far Fenris had come and how strong and determined he was. But it had backfired tremendously when the elf had gotten cornered by that Red Templar and Dorian had panicked. Without any thought for himself, he'd surrounded the elf with every ounce of magical barrier he could conjure, leaving himself defenceless.

When he'd woken later back in camp, his head pounding and his staff broken he'd mentally kicked himself. With that one act, he'd alerted everyone in their party to his attraction to Fenris as well as Vivienne's scorn for doing something so blatantly careless.

He sighed heavily as a tear tracked down his cheek. None of this was easy, but the weight of his struggle had become unbearable to carry alone. His meeting with his father had dredged up all the reasons he'd left and reminded him painfully that he had nowhere else to go.

A creak on the stairs behind him had him reaching for a staff that wasn't there, his lips twisting into a snarl, hoping it would be enough to scare whoever it was away.

"Dorian." Fenris said, his eyes roving over him and missing nothing.

"Well that's just perfect. A perfect end to a perfect week. It's not enough for you to needle and insult me at every opportunity? Now you're seeking me out to do it? What have I done this time? Enthralled you? Sacrificed virgins? Roasted live kittens?"

Fenris scowled, though his eyes held something resembling concern. "What's wrong with you?"

Dorian laughed but there was no humour in it and Fenris flinched. What was that about? Dorian wondered. Why would the elf flinch over his sarcasm? Had it come out more harsh than the warrior had intended? Unlikely.

"What's wrong with me? Why do you even need to ask? You and everyone else in this blighted freezing country have no trouble listing my many faults and short-comings on a daily basis. A better question would be what's not wrong with me. I'm fairly certain it would turn out to be a much shorter list."

"Dorian." Fenris sighed.

"What? What do you want from me? I'm not insulting you or stealing your chair in the tavern or tossing fireballs at you. You have no good reason for disturbing me or invading my space. I even left the library so I could avoid inconveniencing anyone who might need a book, but who does not enjoy my company, of which I'm certain there are several dozen."

"What in Andraste's name has gotten into you Dorian? What's happened?" Fenris sighed, exasperated.

"Are you trying to convince me you care? That you're concerned about me? Don't bother. I'm not going to be goaded into saying something you'll just use against me later. I might be an entitled noble but I assure you I am not stupid."

"I know you aren't."

"If you're just going to stand there making asinine observations, I'm leaving. I didn't come up here to be harassed, especially not by you. Now get out of my way."

"No." The elf said, glaring while crossing his arms over his chest.

"What do you mean, no? I have nothing more to say and whatever you have to say, I'm not interested. I don't want to hear how utterly pathetic I am or how my countrymen are the epitome of everything wrong in the world. I've heard it enough already and I'm tired. Now move."