Chapter Text
Dorian Pavus sat pleasantly in the little nook in the library that he had claimed all to himself. It was only fate that he'd claim such a spot, after all, this was the man who brilliantly helped create time magic (although the whole 'unraveling the fabric of time' business wasn't the greatest thing in the world) and besides it was quiet and away from the others. That was why Leliana had her office at the top of the library's tower and Solas spent most of his time at the very bottom. All three were quiet and thirsty for knowledge when left to their own devices.
The Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, the blasphemous Dalish elf who happened to be oh-so conveniently at the right (or wrong) place at the right (wrong) time to thwart Corypheus' plans spent a lot of time running around Skyhold. Most would say 'gracefully' but the inquisitor himself disagreed. He knew he was running around, akin to a headless chicken. 'Do you need help with that?', 'How are you today?', 'Anything new happen?'... The same questions every day he was in Skyhold. But most waved him off because of his title. It was almost worth arguing over.
Of course, Dorian knew that the Inquisitor (such a fancy title for a lanky elf who couldn't keep himself from getting dirt everywhere. He once had it behind his ears!) was doing the same song and dance as every day, and he knew eventually that Lavellan would drag himself into the library, hear a story from Solas about the fade, then come upstairs to talk to Dorian himself. They'd flirt, Lavellan would give him puppy-dog eyes before asking if he needed help with anything (no, Inquisitor, I would've told you. Yes, I'm sure. I'm perfectly content sitting in my space and reading these books... unless you'd like to join me? Ah, yes, the Inquisitors' troubles never cease! Maybe next time), before bouncing upstairs to talk to Leliana (they just had a meeting an hour ago, wouldn't she had said something then if she had news?) before scurrying back downstairs and give Dorian a wave before heading to Vivienne's space to go and bother her.
He knew Lavellan had told people that the 'Inquisitor'ing and the 'herald' ing were completely unnecessary but as ashamed as Dorian was to admit it, he didn't even know his first name. He learned his clan name was 'Lavellan' from the others in the inner circle, but he hasn't heard his first name yet. And it was past the point to be able to say 'ah, yes, what was your name again? I didn't catch it the first time' because at this point they'd gone on several exhibitions together and were progressing along with their friendship (friendship, because while Lavellan was very friendly, and charming, and adorable, and sometimes hot with his long wavy auburn hair and dark eyes that twinkled like the stars.... what was I saying?).
Eventually Dorian decided enough was enough and sauntered down from his nook (Lavellan thought of it like Dorian's little safe-space. Not that Dorian knew that) to find Varric. The dwarf had allegedly been with him since the beginning. If anybody would know Lavellan's first name it'd be him. (Besides, they talk all the time and are that close. Varric calls him 'Sunshine' for Andraste's sake! ) But when pressed the dwarf admitted that he didn't know.
"What do you mean you don't know?" he demanded, confused and disappointed. Varric shrugged helplessly.
"I was planning on asking one of you. When we first met there were demons everywhere, and when we asked his name he said 'Lavellen' and explained he was from the clan Lavellen. We were about to ask his first name when demons attacked, but...." Varric laughed, seemingly amused with the situation, before continuing.
"He always signs all of his papers in this... well terrible scrawl. Nobody can even read it. But we're pretty sure it starts with an A... or an E, or an F... possibly a T... Solas and Sera don't know Dalish names either." Dorian sighed.
"And you haven't pulled him aside... to ask him? Aren't you friends?" Varric laughed again.
"You're his friend too, Sparkler! Why haven't you asked?" Dorian sighed again muttering a quiet 'fair enough' before sulkily returning to the library.
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Although it was very baffling that none of the inner circle knew the Inquisitors' name (Dorian made sure to ask everyone else, just to make sure Varric wasn't playing a joke on him. Honest to the Maker nobody knew) it was also very bemusing in its own way. The man who had saved the world once, saved all of their asses plenty of times (not to mention that they had saved his a couple of times too, would be a damn shame if that ass ceased to exist), and frequently checks up on everyone to see if they need any help (not to mention is currently gearing up to face Corypheus) and nobody knew his maker-damned name. What were they going to write in the history books? 'The young strapping lad from clan Lavellan with the glowing hand?' Surely not! So Dorian set out to find the Inquisitor (and some liquid courage, for this would surely be embarrassing) to ask. On second thought, there Lavellan came bouncing up the stairs with his seemingly endless energy, waving at Dorian before starting up a pleasant conversation.
"Dorian! How are you today?" The seemingly nameless force of nature bounded towards him, naivete practically exploding in bursts off of his skin. To have those endless nearly-purple dark blue eyes pointed toward him almost took his breath away every time.
"Hmm, better now that you're here, but there is a rather.... pressing matter to attend to." Dorian tried to relax into his chair, stubbornly continuing to make eye contact with Lavellan, who was confused. He could always tell when he was confused, his eyebrows would slightly push together and a small, quiet frown would overtake his plush lips. He could see the gears turning in Lavellan's mind. He must've caught his curiosity. Or kindness. At any rate, Lavellan likely wouldn't leave until he figured out the problem.
Which is perfect. For Dorian, at least. He rather liked having Lavellan's attention all to himself. But that wasn't the point.
"Is there a problem? Can I help?" Lavellan spoke after a slight pause, not having figured out the problem by himself (otherwise he would have offered up a hundred and one solutions, really that man's energy was downright frightening at times).
"Well..." Dorian trailed off. His ears burned and he was almost certain he was blushing but carefully tried to keep his relaxed demeanor. But Lavellan clearly saw his struggle and he saw the Inquisitor tense slightly, probably thinking the problem was worse than it actually was. He offered Lavellan a small (hopefully calming) smile.
"As hard as it is to admit it, I can't seem to remember ever catching your name. The first one, and I asked some of the others and they can't seem to remember as well. It is rather curious how nobody knows the name of the man leading us," Dorian purposefully left a pause (one that conveyed that it was Lavellan's turn to speak) so that hopefully he would catch on and say his name. Although Lavellan is far from stupid (quite intelligent a great deal of the time, in fact) he sometimes doesn't quite get things like social cues.
But he must've got it this time because his cheeks turned pink and he looked utterly mortified.
"Creators! You guys really just let me forget to tell you my name? I'm so sorry I forget sometimes that people actually want my name-name and not my clan-name-- you see with other clans usually the first question is what clan you're from and I've gotten into the habit of just saying my clan-name when asked! It's a horrible habit I know- I'm sorry- is that why you guys are always calling me Inquisitor all the time? Creators I've got to stop doing this..." Lavellan rambled, flushed as a fish, before burying his face in his hands with a groan. Dorian chuckled before standing up and gently pulling his face away from his hands. Lavellan looked up at Dorian (through both his hair and his lashes, and he looked enchanting).
"Although it is extremely amusing to watch you flush all pink, I'd really like to know your name, so if you'd tell me-"
"Qahnaarin. My name is Qahnaarin." Lavellan cut Dorian off-- which Dorian would've replied (semi) insulted if that odd name didn't leave him pausing in his tracks.
"Kin- kinairen?" Lavellan shook his head, his face still tinted pink.
"Qahnaarin. Kwin-aar-inn. Qahnaarin." Lavellan repeated slowly, hands still in Dorians' as he tried to walk the Tevinter through saying his name. (Lavellan knew it was hard. He didn't blame him.)
"K... Kwin-aar...inn? Kwin-aar-in. Qahnaarin!" Dorian (surprisingly, Lavellan thought) got his name sort-of right. Without completely botching it. It would still take some time though.
"And how pray tell, is that spelled?" Dorian asked because of course, he asked because knowing everything is kind of his thing. But he was genuinely curious (kwin-aar-inn? He's never heard of an elf name like that!). It became clear as Lavellan winced that it wasn't an easy name to spell. Dorian glanced around to see everyone (including Solas and Leliana) watching in anticipation. Which caused Lavellan to also look around and groan dramatically before sighing.
"Q-a-h-n-a-a-r-i-n. Qahnaarin. The name that I keep forgetting to tell people." Lavellan spoke the letters slowly and Dorian tried to memorize it as fast as possible before laughing at Lavellan- Qahnaarin's jab at himself.
"Delightful, absolutely delightful! I've never heard of a name like that! And I know I don't talk to very many elves but that is a very strange and long elven-"
"It's not elven." Dorian didn't even bother to hide his shock (the Inquisitor was full of so many surprises today!).
"Not elven? Then what is it? Aren't you Dalish?" Dorian asked before he could stop himself, watching as Qahnaarin's face flush.
"Well, yes, but it's closer to... well... Uhm... the closest thing that you'd know would be qunari."
*pov switch*
Everything is silent for a moment. Qahnaarin could see the gears in Dorian's mind turn. And everyone else's. A dalish elf with a qunari name? How peculiar. How odd. How-
"Really! I have almost a half of a mind not to believe you," Dorian commented, cutting off Qahnaarin's thoughts short. He gave a small laugh.
"I liked the name, and once I figured out the meaning I knew that I'd have to make it my own." He shifted from foot to foot anxiously.
"I know it's weird for an elf but a friend used to call me it... and it grew on me I guess. I suppose it was just another title but it was.. special. Y'know?" Qahnaarin looked into Dorian's eyes, trying to will him to understand, head slightly bowed in embarrassment. Their hands were still locked.
"Well, now you've piqued my curiosity. You can't just leave it at that! What does it mean?" Qahnaarin could see that Dorian was practically vibrating in curiosity. He was doing that thing that he does unconsciously, the bouncing on his feet. When he excitedly shifts his weight from the heel to the toes and back to the heel of his feet. (Qahnaarin likely would never admit it out loud but he thought it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen in his life.)
Qahnaarin shook his head lightly and cleared his throat.
"It- uh- it means... "Vanquisher"..." he mumbled quietly. Dorian leaned in (dramatically he might add, completely for show value the way he did it) and told him to repeat what he'd said.
"How anyone can hear you when you get all mumble-y is a mystery, my dear Qahnaarin." (The pronunciation still wasn't quite right. But it's okay. At least he's trying.)
He took a deep breath before standing up straight and forcing himself to look Dorian in the eyes (without cherry colored hair obstructing his vision).
"It means "Vanquisher"." And there was another beat of silence before Dorian burst out laughing. (Just when he thought he finally had control over his blush, Dorian does this and suddenly it slams into him full force.)
"What- what's so funny?" He tentatively asked (he's not sure he wants to know, with the other laughing so hard he's bent at the waist.
"I'm-" he laughs again before continuing, "it's just that, of course, you'd be named that! Vanquisher!" He shakes his head as he laughs again. And it's really not that funny (considering that Qahnaarin usually throws himself into situations to fight big bads. Or his luck) but he can feel the laughter bubbling up into his chest (the man's mirth is just so contagious) and it's not long before he's giggling. Even shorter a time before he's laughing full-heartedly with him.
When they eventually calm down (it takes a while. Once they think they're nearly calm one of them will snicker before saying "vanquisher" in an amused kind of whisper and they'd be clutching their stomachs again) Qahnaarin is wiping away tears (his face his red and he knows it. But seeing how red Dorian's is too makes him feel better) and Dorian is stroking his mustache amusedly. (His eyes twinkle in times like these, and Qahnaarin always gets the breath knocked out of him when Dorian makes that look. A roguish grin on his face with eyes shining and crinkled in the corners. Relaxed, open posture and the way his voice lilts in his amusement. He lives for times like these.)
"So is it alright if I call you "Vanquisher" from now on?" Dorian is poking fun. He realizes (for the millionth time) that he loves talking to Dorian. Especially the banter and teasing and flirting. (He doesn't want to think about how just maybe Dorian is doing it to purposely get him to relax. He's been betrayed before. But the softness Dorian sometimes takes on when talking to him feels genuine)
"Of course! Someone has to carry the title after all," he smiles back. They stand there for a moment, both grinning like goofballs and caught in each other's eyes before someone clearing their throat breaks the spell.
"Inquisitor, it's time for the meeting," Leliana softly (as always) says with an amused look on her face. Qahnaarin flushes hard before nodding.
"Right! Sorry, I nearly forgot!" He turns toward the stairs before turning back to Dorian and kissing his cheek. "Talk to you later!" He calls behind his back as he walks off.
+++
Dorian brings a hand to his cheek where the Inquisitor (Lavellan, Qahnaarin... Inquisitor and Herald) kissed him. Leliana gave him the slyest smile he's ever seen on a person. (He's blushing, he knows he is). She laughs before following Lavellan, also speaking over her shoulder at him.
"Looks like he'll 'talk' to you later, Dorian!"
He curses her laughter as she goes down the stairs.