Vallaslin and Necromancy

Jaws of Hakkon (The Old Temple)

*Warning for Spoilers for the end?(ish) of the Jaws of Hakkon DLC*

Gray eyes stared dully into the flames, fingers twitching in a feeble attempt to absorb more of the warmth from the flickering flames. Distantly, voices rose over the sound of stamping feet next to him, rising and falling in a cadence that had grown all too familiar to him within the last fifteen minutes of wandering through the frozen temple. The sound of paper rustling startled him from his thoughts, and he glanced up as Lavellan closed his journal, tucking it back into some pocket hidden somewhere on his armor.

"Alright. I'm done," he murmured, slipping off the frosty rock he was perched on. Varric let out a dramatic breath, letting the veilfire torch drop down to a more comfortable angle.

"And just when I'd finally nodded off. Couldn't wait a few more minutes, boss?" Iron Bull droned somewhere by Dorian's feet, soaking in the warmth of the fire while he waited for Lavellan to finish deciphering the rune.

"Any longer and I fear our Hakkon friend would've finished his ritual," Dorian returned, tucking his hands under his arms as he prepared to set off into the icy air.

"Then we could wait for him to come to us, nice and toasty instead of going out there," Varric continued, eyeing the ice-covered statues. Lavellan sighed, the forlorn look on his face lost as he burrowed under Dorian's arm.

"Hey! I just finished getting warm again! Go get your own!" He exclaimed, lips pulled into a frown under frost-tipped mustache as Lavellan stole the aforementioned warmth. He ignored the statement, replying to the others as he said:

"I like it as much as you do, but if we don't kill it-"

"God rampaging on the Lowlands. Blah, blah, death, fire, destruction. Got it, boss. Now let's go kill the dragon!"

A smile twitched on Lavellan's pale lips, though he only burrowed into the collar of his coat before stepping away from the fire.

"Kaffas, it's cold," Dorian grumbled a few moments later, shivering as he looked through the dusty bottles. Lavellan was crouched behind him, taking the potions and tucking them into his belt. He handed one to Varric, two to Iron Bull. A moment later, something warm pressed to the mage's back.

Dorian didn't need to look over to know it was Lavellan, siphoning what little warmth they both had.

"Ready?" he asked, pulling away after a soft beat. Confirmations all around before they slid down into the small arena.

"The mages are finishing the ritual!" Lavellan shouted, ducking under a warhammer and stabbing the pointy end of his staff into the Avvar's side. A shriek filled the room, and he spun to the side to avoid a glowing snowball. A second Avvar loomed behind him, though he didn't even flinch as the warhammer swung down.

A billow of green air, and a faint, transparent figure snapped into existence, blocking the blow and sending the hulking figure staggering. Iron Bull swept in, finishing them off with a solid blow.

He swung around, hooking Dorian with the tip of his staff and dragging them together as he held up one hand, a glowing green barrier erupting around them just in time as the mages broke from their ritual, a barricade of ice-magic flying towards them. It bounced off, flying into the air as the barrier returned fire. A few moments later, Varric ducked under the shelter, reloading in a half thought before sending a bolt straight through a mage's eye.

The rest of them fell down, and Lavellan leaned on his staff for a beat, one hand holding his side. His gaze was locked on the statue, irises as icy as the walls around them. Dorian examined the dragon frozen in the center of the room, mind whirring as he worked through what kind of spell could be holding it there.