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Soulmates .
The word seemed absurd to Dorian. The idea that there was someone in the world, who shared his pain, to try to make the burden lesser was simply ridiculous. Or maybe that was just the bitter 19-year-old version of him talking, knowing that his status as Crown Prince of Ardalan prevented him from hoping for any future with his so-called ‘soulmate’.
He always knew he would have to marry for alliance or some equally tedious reason and have nothing but mutual respect for his spouse. That was the way things had been with his parents. That was the way it would be with him. He was quite resigned to the fact now.
But that didn't stop him from flirting with every girl in his mother’s court, pretty enough to catch his attention. He simply ignored the soulmate tether, even when he’d wake up in the middle of the night because of phantom pain that wasn’t his.
His friend had thought he’d met his soulmate but he had been wrong. Chaol had been hurt for weeks and had developed permanent trust issues because of it. He supposed it could have been worse.
Dorian had taken several lovers, deliberately ignoring every single insignificant twinge of pain he felt and distracting himself with affairs of court. He only ever thought about the bond when he got cuts and scrapes while sparring, wondering if the person at the other end of the tether felt them too.
There had been a few times where he’d cared for someone deeply enough to hope for the bond to be real, but had again been proved wrong. The rational part of him had known Ardalan’s assassin couldn’t possibly be his soulmate- she had so many scars and injuries, he would have remembered feeling their pain.
But the irrational, lovestruck fool part of him had kept hope, because how couldn’t he? Celaena was wildfire, entrancing him and burning him at the same time. They’d stayed friends of course, but Dorian couldn’t deny that it hurt to watch her fall for his best friend.
And so while things had got ridiculously awkward between him and Chaol for a while, he had found himself spending more time with his other friend, Y/n. Her father was a minister so that technically made her a member of his mother’s court, but she was rarely ever with them.
Instead she simply hovered around him and Chaol, or sat cooped up in the library. He wasn’t even sure how they’d become friends. At some point in their childhood they’d started hanging out and simply decided not to separate since.
And it was a good thing that Dorian had another friend in the castle along with Chaol. Because during situations like the whole him-chaol-celaena drama, it felt good to be able to take a breath of fresh air.
And Y/n, surprisingly, was just that. She was embarrassingly intuitive to his moods, always picking up on whether he wanted to talk about something or just wanted to be in someone’s company. Most times when it was just them, they’d spend hours in companionable silence, both engrossed in their own thing but still aware of the other’s presence.
They’d spent hours talking about various topics ranging from the customs of the southern continent to the latest book they’d read or complaining about various members of his mother’s court.
The only topic they never spoke about had been soulmates. It was almost as if by some unspoken agreement, they both steered clear of the topic. He supposed if he could have his reasons to despise the system, so could she.
But even after everything, he wouldn’t be able to give a straight answer on what exactly it was that he felt about his friend. Dorian could say he loved her, the same way he loved Chaol but he knew that would be a lie. To say he had never considered her in that way would be a lie too.
She was beautiful, he wouldn’t deny that, with a wicked sense of humour and a sharp tongue that made Celaena adore her. But he’d never seen y/n show even the remotest interest in anyone in the castle. It wasn’t as if there was a shortage of good-looking people at the castle either. But it seemed she simply didn’t bother with romance in general.
So Dorian simply dismissed the idea. What he had currently with her, that was far better. As for the soulmate bond, there had been moments where he almost believed in it, and even wondered if it would be Y/n.
There had been several incidents that were far too suspicious to be coincidences, but he’d ignored them, writing them off as coincidences. When his magic began to show, he panicked and punched a wall, leaving the wall splintered and cracked and his knuckles bruised and bloody.
When he’d seen Y/n later that same day, needing to be in someone’s company after the incident frayed his nerves, he’d noticed she kept rubbing the knuckles of her right hand, the same hand that he’d punched the wall with. When she’d realised he’d noticed, she stopped, telling him it was just an allergy.
The next time he had noticed was when he’d been possessed by the valg prince. He was busy trying to kill Aelin when pain had flared up his arm. While he didn’t have any control over his body at the time, the valg prince had become disoriented because of it and Aelin had gotten some time to put distance between them.
Later after the glass castle had shattered and he was resting in the stone portion of the glass castle he’d noticed y/n’s arm was bandaged up. He’d been surprised his friend could fight at all, but it seems all of them had secrets they kept from each other.
At the time he’d been too caught up in his own grief and sorrow to fully register the implications of the fact that they’d shared pain or even acknowledge it. So they’d completely ignored it, both of them choosing not to talk about it.
Chaol and Nesryn were going to go to the Southern Continent and Aelin and the others to Terrasen. Y/n surprisingly would be staying in Rifthhold to keep him company. But even when there had been no else to talk to, y/n had kept busy, deliberately avoiding him by making excuses about having to finish some task or the other, which wasn’t surprising since there were several loose ends to tie up around the castle.
And just as Dorian began to think that things were settling down in Rifthold, the witches had attacked the city. After realising what was happening, it had been chaos, the few remaining soldiers running around trying to fend off the attacks.
Y/n, who’d been sitting at his desk looking over some documents, swore and dashed over to his balcony. “How many?” she asked, slipping her hands around the hilts of the daggers that had by now become a common part of her ensemble. “A whole coven I think” he replied, before slashing out with his hands in the direction of a few wyverns, knocking them out of the sky.
Y/n sighed in exasperation before grabbing the handle of the crossbow she’d installed onto his balcony for specifically this purpose. Then loading it, she fired, sending a wyvern off course.
“The cross bows and archers can only do so much against wyverns. We need to leave. Now” y/n said as he shook his head. “I need to stay. Rifthold’s under attack. If I don't protect it, who will?” Dorian countered. y/n sent him a glare. “Now is not the time for you to be a martyr. Rifthold needs a living king, not a dead hero”
It seemed they wouldn’t have to settle the argument at all because at that moment the wall of his tower went down in an explosion of rocks and dust.
******
The ironteeth witch who’d attacked the tower had been dealt with by Manon Blackbeak, a fact that surprised Y/n. She vaguely registered the happenings of the next few minutes- Rowan showing up, Rowan ushering her and Dorian out, taking the secret passage- all of it passed by and y/n felt as if she was a spectator observing and not actually participating.
The wound in her abdomen throbbed, one of the witches she had fought on the way downstairs had managed to get a hit at her. It wasn’t a stab wound thank the gods, but the dagger had managed to leave a cut deep enough to scar.
Once they were out of Rifthold, y/n had cut off her shirt sleeve and wrapped it around the cut to staunch the bleeding- when they were on safer ground she’d bandage it properly. “You alright?” Dorian asked and she nodded, knowing he would know her lie.
But him contradicting her would mean that Dorian would have to acknowledge the bond between them and Y/n knew he wouldn’t do that. Not yet. Possibly never. So she didn’t either, simply staring out to the sea as Rowan’s magic sped the three of them to Skull’s bay.
****
The next time either of them had got wounded had been during a scuffle with a group of valg grunts during an excursion in a village on the way to Ellwye stone marshes.
Y/n had returned to the ship and headed straight to her cabin, taking out a clean cloth and some water in the sink of her bathroom to clean her wounds. Her knuckles felt raw and she’d split one when she’d punched one of the grunts. This was the reason she preferred using her knives, they were quicker and easier.
Her jaw was throbbing but this wasn’t because of her own injury, she knew because she’d seen Dorian get decked in the jaw with the hilt of a sword.
There was a knock on her open bathroom door and y/n didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. “What do you want?” she demanded, scrubbing her arm with the now wet cloth, watching distastefully as the dried blood slid off.
“Well, I was going to offer help, but clearly you don’t want me here” Dorian answered, but made no move to leave. “I don’t really care either way. How’s the face?” “Hurts like a bitch but you know that already”
Y/n turned around to face him, bringing the washcloth to her temple as she did. “Oh, so now you want to acknowledge it,” she asked, scoffing incredulously. “Acknowledge what?” Dorian asked, grinning at her in a way that made her want to punch him.
Y/n scowled, “The stupid soulmate bond. The fact that I can feel your pain and you can feel mine. The fact that the universe decided it would be a really funny joke to tie you to the one person you don’t want as a soulmate” she seethed, feeling irritated and in far too much pain to bother with diplomacy and gentleness.
“What makes you think that ?” Dorian challenged, crossing his arms before wincing as his arm screeched in protest. Y/n resisted the urge to feel smug. At least her various cuts and scrapes were useful for one thing.
“What makes me- Dorian, we’ve both known for weeks , months even. But you didn’t even say anything. Obviously I’d feel you hate the fact that I’m your soulmate” The strain of talking for so long was beginning to take its toll as Y/n felt herself swaying and leaned back against the sink of her bathroom to hold her up.
Dorian noticed and frowned. “You’re still hurt” Y/n didn’t deign to reply instead reached out to the cupboard for rubbing alcohol and bandages. “I could help you” Dorian said, his voice suddenly soft and Yn turned to look at him, before giving a weak shrug as if to say I’m not exactly in the position to decline help right now .
Y/n seated herself onto the counter and looked up at him, waiting. “I could heal you with magic, it’ll be faster. And more painless” Dorian’s usual cocky persona had sobered up suddenly and Y/n resisted the urge to laugh. “I mean, I that’s what you think will be better” she couldn’t keep the teasing lilt out of her voice and Dorian gave her a look before stepping closer to her.
He let his fingers hover over her arm first, barely touching, as the magic began to knit the skin back together and the painful cuts were soon reduced to just minute scars which would fade soon too.
Then Dorian brought his hand to her forehead and brushed his thumb against the bruise there and immediately the pain receded and Y/n knew the angry purple bruise forming there was gone now.
Then, with gentleness she didn’t know Dorian possessed, he held up her hand, carefully passing his fingers over the bruises on Y/n’s knuckles. Once it was done, instead of letting go he laced his fingers with Y/n’s.
“What are you-?” But it didn’t seem he was planning anything. He simply stood there, looking at her with the softest look in his eyes. Y/n felt her breath hitch and exhaled softly. “This would be a lot nicer if weren’t in my bathroom and I couldn’t feel your jaw dying”
Dorian blinked and laughed softly, before leaning his forehead against y/n’s and closed his eyes. “I’ll live. Besides, are you suggesting you’d rather we take this to your bed?”
Y/n scoffed, weakly hitting his arm. “Don’t ruin the moment Havilliard”
“I was just saying-”
“ Shhh ”
“But-”
“ No ”
“Fine”
Y/n leaned back and grinned up at him in amusement. “Survive this war. Then we’ll see”
The answering kiss he gave you was definitely promise enough.