The small alcove Dorian had claimed for himself in the rotunda was awash with morning light. A warmth seeped in through the windows that betrayed the nip to the air outside. Dorian, himself, did not notice. Too busy pacing back and forth with an old book in his hands. With each move back and forth, he worried at his bottom lip, eyes darting up and down pages as he flipped quickly.
By some grace of the Maker, the place was quiet. Only the ruffle and occasional caw from the rookery above disturbed the quiet morning. A morning Dorian might normally enjoy and relish in, if not for the shake of his hands or the hitch in his normally easy step. But at least…
He froze, slamming the book shut with one hand as he whirled about. A few feet away stood the Inquisitor. A bright and shining smile on the elf’s lips. Dorian’s heart fluttered in his chest. With some effort, he mustered his most charming smile.
“Good morning, amatus.” Dorian slid the book behind his back, shuffling a few paces closer to the bookshelf to hastily hide his studies. “Was there something you needed?”
The Inquisitor canted his head, a small and lopsided smirk on his lips. Hands on his hips, he rocked back and forth a couple times, studying Dorian with his sharp gaze. Dorian’s mouth ran dry, his hands still shaking and he tried not to fidget with them. Maker-knew he had enough buckles on his favorite outfit to do so if he didn’t keep himself focused.
The Inquisitor was always an observant one. An elf thing, perhaps. Regardless, Dorian refused to show his hand. He shrugged, trying to relax the fluttering throughout his body.
“Nonsense,” he added.
Damn him picking such an observant boyfriend.
“You look tense,” he observed. The Inquisitor’s gaze narrowed just slightly. “Nervous.”
Dorian’s breath caught in his throat when the Inquisitor stepped forward, taking his shaking hands in his own firm grasp. Dorian tensed his jaw, averting his gaze away.
“Tell me honestly, what’s bothering you?”
Dorian shook his head. “Nothing. Amatus, I’m fine.”
“Ma vhenan, I know you better than this.”
Extending one hand, the Inquisitor gently touched Dorian’s cheek. He flushed, ever so slightly, under the contact. But as he finally was made to lift his gaze, to look at his love, he did not have the heart to keep playing it all off. All at once, he deflated. The calm, cool, collected Tevinter act faded as he reached out and pulled the Inquisitor close to him at the waist.
“You know me too well. I’ve found I am… nervous at the thought of meeting Clan Lavellan.”
The Inquisitor began to chuckle, cupping Dorian’s cheek with an even more warm and mirthful gaze.
“Oh, ma vhenan, you have nothing to fear. They will love you.” He leaned in, providing Dorian with a quick and reassuring kiss. “Almost as much as I do.”