Dorian Pavus

“Such vulgarities, Ser Pa– Dorian. Yes… but, you would have  lasted longer if you’d paid  attention.”  He’s grinning, now, leaning back  in his chair as he watches Dorian.   “Did you want to try again, or are   you good for the evening?”

The quick change from proper to casual eases the tension in his shoulders.  Dorian relaxes in his seat and rolls his eyes.   “I’d say you benefited from my distraction, Commander.   Seize every opportunity that arises.”  He glances at the board.  With a long sigh, he declines.  “I’d say this loss has satisfied my appetite for chess for a time.”   Dorian remains seated and closes his eyes. The scuffle of footsteps—distant yet loud and almost jarring—remind him of this place, of Skyhold.  This may not be his home, but it is a home for the time being.   “How do you unwind?” he asks abruptly.  “I would understand if you insisted that you don’t, simply based on how you are every day, but nonetheless...”

He’s concerned, eyebrows furrowed a little as he eyes Dorian– but he’s not sure to press the matter, not no– or even how. “You might have a point, but either way…” He tries smirking, now, attempting somewhat to bring Dorian’s mood down, assuming a playful rivalry in loss will help- “Checkmate.”

Dorian exhales, glancing at the garden.   Tending to the herbs in the garden might help.  Only when Cullen gives a smug sort of response does Dorian turn back to the game.   He eyes the board quickly and mutters, “Fuck.” He resumes his normal façade, a smirk plastering itself to his lips.  Dorian crosses his legs and leans back in his seat.   “Seems I’ve been outwit.”

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This, finally, causes Cullen to look up from the  game, hands folded. He’s lost focus on the game but his strategy has only three more moves– he’s  fine, game-wise, but worried he had missed something going on with the mage. “I have.” He speaks quietly, eyeing Dorian from across the table, “And I’m sorry that you’ve had to face that.”

Maybe Cullen understands more than Dorian gives him credit for, but it doesn’t matter.   The thumb swiping blood over his temple, the way his father’s eyes burned fear into his own —no one understands that.   He leans back in his seat, feet flat on the ground.   Dorian’s knees press together, and his arms fall over his stomach.  “Thanks,” he mutters in a half-hearted tone.

“I don’t quite understand you.” Avoided, a man lost in the manoeuvre. A nevessary loss, however, opening up several new techniques. One life for many. “How would loyalty ruin a relationship?” Dorian seems tense– and Cullen stills, piece in hand but decided to chalk it up to just another thing of the mages’ that Cullen doesn’t understand, knowing better than to pry. He figured if Dorian wished to discuss whatever made his knuckles so taut, he would.

Dorian’s body relaxes, eyes somewhat dead.   He doesn’t want to discuss this loyalty nonsense anymore, but he has a point he needs to make.   Cullen won’t understand unless he makes it clear.   Dorian takes a bishop after a moment of hesitation and glances up at the commander.  “You’ve never been betrayed, have you?”  His voice loses its quirkiness—now it’s a deeper shade of who he was.   “You’ve never had to face the fact that someone who is supposed to be on your side, no matter what, turns on you.”

“You choose to follow the inquisition. Still loyalty. Blind loyalty is… Less so.” A moments grace; said knight slipping past a castle, pawn in position. “My turn for check. Watch your men… Dorian.” Perhaps he had a soft spot.

Dorian glances at the board and moves his king.   Check—avoided for now—is the least of his worries.   He remembers a hand over his, showing him techniques in this game.  He remembers the gentle guidance and kind words when he faulted.   Dorian sucks in a sharp breath.  Hands on the arms of the chair, he feels binds on his wrists again, and magic.  He bites his lower lip until the pain tears him from the memory.  Dorian licks at the blood on the inside of his lip and he looks back at the board.   Focus, he tells himself, focus on anything else. “Blind loyalty can ruin the best relationships.”

“How is it not loyalty?” Cullen frowns at his next words; eyeing the board. Clearly– he’d missed it, a rogue little bishop past his knight. Maker spare him, he was not about to lose– “That is check, you’re right. Hm. And you, Ser Pavus, are loyal to our cause, no? Unless you have some sort of double agent thing going on, there’s no reason to deny your loyalty.”

Cullen has a point.  If choosing to follow the Inquisition isn’t loyalty...   He glances at the board briefly but looks back to the garden.   The Royal Elfroot needs tending, Dorian thinks.  His twitching fingers and foot ease.  “I’ve told you I dislike that moniker.  Is it so difficult to simply call me Dorian?”  He exhales.   “I suppose you’re right... but it’s not blind loyalty.  It’s a choice.”

“But you’re loyal again, aren’t you? To the inquisition, now, but still loyal.” Another move; Dorian is distracting himself, but Cullen sees none of it. He speaks almost mechanically, only occasionally looking up to reply. “Your turn.”

“I wouldn’t call it loyalty.”  No, Dorian chose this cause.   He’s not loyal to it.  It’s an ever-possibly-changing decision that he continues to make for the Inquisition.  He purses his lips, glancing at the board.  This could be an easy win.   A smile forms on his lips.  Dorian leans forward and moves.   “That’s check.”

“Snake venom and red lyrium are tangible things, though.” He thus pauses as well, watching Dorian somewhat curiously. “I see how it could go wrong, but being loyal… With no context, simply the idea of being loyal is again, not necessarily a flaw. So I’m not certain I see your point.”

“Loyalty can be just as tangible,” he mutters.   Dorian crosses his legs, one foot twitching.   It’s irritating how gullible Cullen can be.   “Loyalty can lead you to follow something you don’t believe in.  It can lead to living in a cage of something you can’t find your way out of.  All simply for the sake of loyalty.” He spits the last word out like the venom he compared it to.  

“I’m… I’m quite good. I have other matters  to attend to.” I am a big, manly man in much pain. Bested by a mage. “Thank you for the match, however. Perhaps  next time you could… refrain from such things.” He’s praying to Andraste the blush has died.

Dorian shrugs.  “Too bad.”   He exhales and turns away from the commander.   “I have to keep you on your toes,” he replies with a small smile.   “And,” he adds after he steps away from Cullen, “I have to have my  own fun too.”