#Aeren is a goof at heart

[cakelanguage]

Writing long fics is so intimidating, especially when you don’t receive much feedback for a while, but I pushed past my hesitation and wariness to keep on trucking! Enjoy chapter 6 of my “Dorian as a young boy” fic - he’s finally meeting the rest of the companions.

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You can also read it on AO3

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Perhaps sneaking into the meeting had been poor judgment on his part, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Not when he was able to speak up for the mages and add some convincing reasons to go after Alexius and his cult.

But knowing that he wouldn't have changed his actions didn't stop the nerves that buzzed underneath his skin as they got closer to the tavern if the ruckus and clanking from inside was anything to go by. It wouldn't be terrible, he'd been scolded many times before and it'd just be another notch on his belt of… recklessness.

Except it wasn't really the same. Varric had been nothing but friendly to him and it left a sour taste in his mouth that he'd tricked the dwarf. He'd definitely apologize to him as soon as Varric started his scolding.

It was also the unknown factor of the Iron Bull. The qunari was friendly enough but he was still a qunari and that alone had warning bells echoing through his skull. He knew the Iron Bull didn't trust him and this wasn't going to build that trust. Especially since the Iron Bull was going to be watching him.

"Hey, I can hear you stewing," Aeren chuckled, "knock it off. No reason to start freaking out."

He huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. "I'm not 'freaking out,'" Dorian mumbled. "Just… hoping it isn't too bad."

Aeren hummed and gave a half-hearted shrug. "Never really seen the Iron Bull scold someone, to be honest with you, but he is a leader of mercenaries and I doubt this will be the first time he scolds someone."

"It isn't the scolding part that has me worried," he admitted softly.

Aeren came to a halt, his lips pressed into a thin line. He deftly pulled Dorian to the side of the path, bending down a little to look at Dorian. "Is it because he's a qunari?"

Dorian wanted to say 'no,' wanted to be able to brush his unease to the side but he couldn't. "N-not entirely." He fidgeted under Aeren's gaze, brushing imaginary dirt off his robes. "It's complicated."

He'd tried his best to remain neutral about qunari and the Qun, but that prejudice had wormed its way into his heart bit by bit as the war between the qunari and Tevinter dragged on. It was irrational and he felt every bit of the child he still was at the fear that seemed to seep through the folds of his mind.

It wasn't even Bull he was afraid of, just his people. Not that it made it any better.

Aeren tilted his chin up with a calloused hand. "I'm not throwing you to the wolves, Dorian."

"I know that."

"But you're still scared." Dorian's silence was telling enough and Aeren let out a sigh. "If it is any comfort I'll be right with you the entire time, and I'm sure Varric will diffuse the situation if the scolding gets heavy handed, okay?"

Dorian nodded his head and took a steadying breath. "Alright, let's get this over with."

Aeren grinned and clapped his hands together. "That's the attitude I was looking for!"

Aeren was much too happy at Dorian's begrudging courage than Dorian thought he had any right to be, but he followed Aeren into the tavern nonetheless.

The place was full of people, but not as loud as he expected it'd be. The only place that was really making noise was those that were part of the Herald's party, if Bull's looming figure was anything to go by.

The two of them received a few stares but they were mainly directed at Aeren who seemed almost oblivious to them as he weaved through the room towards the back table. Dorian was glad that the attention was on the Herald and not him.

The group spotted Aeren before they reached the table with Bull's voice booming through the tavern. "Was wondering when they'd let you go from that briefing."

Aeren gave a dramatic sigh, plopping into the spare seat beside the Iron Bull. "Thank the gods for that," he groaned, grabbing a hunk of bread from the center of the table, "always feels like they're gonna keep me there for days."

"Come on now, your Heraldness - those advisors of yours can't have been that bad," Varric ribs, and Dorian shuffles nervously from a few feet away.

Aeren raises his brows, unimpressed. "You've got Cullen who is pushing for the Templars and Leliana who's pushing for the mages and then Josephine and Cassandra keep playing devil's advocate while I'm stuck trying to get one word in." He takes a bite of his roll and points at Dorian. "Maybe it was a good thing that I had an eavesdropper willing to give his two cents."

Dorian felt his stomach drop and cursed Aeren under his breath. So much for not tossing him to the wolves.

Varric turned around in his chair and gave a huff. "Really should've expected that to be honest." He patted the seat beside him. "Might as well join the table, kiddo."

Dorian hesitated for a moment before joining everyone at the table. "In my defense, I at least waited until it seemed like they were leaning towards siding with the Templars," he said, avoiding everyone's searching gaze.

A woman across the table snorted unattractively. "The big-wigs always think they got the big ideas," she said, leaning forward in her seat. "Not a fan of the sparkly mages but I can get behind a bit of rule breaking to say your piece."

Dorian didn't fully understand what the woman was saying but it was nice to have someone on his side.

Aeren groaned. "Don't encourage him, Sera," he whined, "The advisors were already upset that I let him join the meeting."

"O' course not, those advisors of yours got poles up their arses. They think the know best and the fact that they had to listen to a kid must've ruffled their feathers."

Dorian felt like the more the woman talked, the less he understood.

"What I want to know," A man with a full beard said, raising his tankard towards Dorian, "is how he gave Varric the slip."

Varric shrugged. "The kid said he needed to relieve himself," Varric said.

The elf woman cackled. "Whelp good to know that pissing is enough to let you scurry off to crash a meeting."

Honestly, the group seemed more amused than anything else about Dorian's little escapade. This wasn't at all like the scolding he was expecting.

"Oi, don't encourage him," Aeren whined, "I told him he was going to get scolded by at least Varric and Bull - where's the scolding?" Dorian shot Aeren a look. "What? I'm just saying I figured they'd be a little upset."

The Iron Bull took a swig from his tankard. "Doubt he didn't look suspicious listening in on that meeting," Bull commented. "That room has no windows and the walls are thick, he had to have been listening through the door. If anything, Dorian proved those soldiers need to pay more attention to their surroundings." The Iron Bull turned his gaze to Dorian and gave him a long blink.

Dorian couldn't hold back a snort. "Did you just wink at me?" He asked.

The Iron Bull tipped his head back and laughed. "Ha, I told Krem people would get it."

Dorian felt his muscles relax. This was going surprisingly well. He grabbed a roll from the pile and took a bite. A little dry, but it tasted fine. "I just needed to make sure you all weren't going to pass over the mages just because the Templars might be the easier option," Dorian explained.

"So we're recruiting the mages?" The burly man asked.

Aeren nodded. "It makes sense in the long run," he said, "the last thing we want is a Tevinter cult laying their dirty paws all over the mages."

The elf woman groaned. "That means we're gonna have to deal with magic shit."

The Iron Bull hummed. "Means demon shit isn't far behind," he muttered.

“Hey, I’m not a huge fan of all that Fade nonsense either,” Aeren said, “But the Templars would have their own brand of issues too.”

“Lyrium,” Varric said, nodding his head, “We’d need plenty of that.”

Aeren clapped his hands and pointed at Varric. “Exactly, thank you Varric. Now, that we’ve apparently decided to skip over reprimanding Dorian, I feel like introductions are in order.”

Dorian straightened up in his seat. “I’m Dorian of House Pavus, fully certified mage and on my way to becoming an Enchanter,” he said, “how do you do?”

“You’s one of them fancy-britches then?” The elf woman asked, wrinkling her nose.

He shrugged. “I suppose you could say that, but I think most of those people are-”

“Fogeies?”

“I was going to say out-dated but fogey probably works better.”

“Maybe you aren’t so bad little fancy.” She stretched her arm across the table. “The name’s Sera, a Friend of Red Jenny. Always ready to put those big’uns in their place.”

Friend of Red Jenny? Dorian feels like he’s heard of them before, but he can’t quite place it.

The bearded man cleared his throat. “Blackwall,” he said, “A Grey Warden.”

Dorian fought down the desire to question Blackwall on what made a person eligible to join the Grey Wardens since Alexius said the Grey Wardens had refused his plea to allow Felix to join them.

He didn’t know if being happy that Felix wasn’t allowed to join made him a bad person.

“You might’ve met her in the church, but there’s a tall woman who looks like she could squash you like a bug with this prim smile on her face,” Aeren said, “That’s Viviene, she’s an Enchanter.”

“And don’t get her started on the Circle of Magi,” Varric warned, “Or advertise you’re from Tevinter.”

Aeren let out a little hiss. “Oh, yeah best to avoid that whole debacle.”

“Why is she an zealous mage rights activist?” Dorian asked.

“Oh no, quite the opposite,” Aeren said with a wry grin, “She thinks the rebel mages are blinded by their own oppression and don’t consider anyone outside the circle. And then something about people’s fear of magic growing and it being justified.”

“Oh.”

Aeren laughed. “Yeah, she’s intense, but a good mage and she knows the Game or whatever really well.”

Well, Dorian supposed it was good to know what to avoid saying just in case.

“Don’t forget about Chuckles,” Varric chimed in.

“Chuckles?” Dorian asked.

“You’ll know him from the glare,” Sera said with a snigger.

“He’s another elf,” Aeren supplied, “Really smart man, a mage like you. Will tell you all kinds of tales from his journeys in the Fade.”

“And he’s bald,” Sera said.

“And he’s bald,” Aeren agreed. “Solas tends to keep to himself, but he is always willing to share his knowledge.”

“Is that everyone?” Dorian asked.

“Well, that’s the active party, but you briefly met the advisors.” Aeren held up three fingers and started naming them off. “There’s Cullen, a former Templar - he’s the blond one, and while he seems serious it’s pretty easy to break through that tough exterior. Lady Josephine Montilyet, the ambassador and chief diplomat of the Inquisition -  she’s an absolute sweetheart and tends to be the middle-ground in our discussions.” He waggled his last finger. “And then there’s Leliana, our spymaster. She finds out everything so it’s best not to try and hide something from her.”

“Right, any more I should know about?”

Aeren looked up at the ceiling as if it might hold the answer to his question. “There’s plenty of people around, but that should be everyone you’ll be dealing with for the most part. If there is anyone else they’ll introduce themselves.” He gestured to the table. “For now, let’s eat before we’re being dragged away again to do something else. I’ve no doubt we’ll be heading back to Redcliffe by tomorrow.”

Dorian nodded his head and let the group’s conversations wash over him. Tomorrow they’d be on their way to confront Alexius. Tomorrow they’d confront Alexius and this Venatori and come out as the victor.

They had to.