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Fight a dragon, they said. It'll be fun. Don't worry that it's in the Emprise du Lion. It'll be colder than the Void, so let's bring Dorian!
It was not fun. Dorian's favourite robes were now slashed from the icy breath of the Kaltenzahn. Solas looked equally bedraggled. The good news was that next to him, Dorian looked reasonably fashionable. He pulled out a pocket mirror to check his moustache and hair. The snow and wind made it horribly unkempt. Maybe not as fashionable as he thought.
His musings were interrupted by a sharp cry he was all too familiar with. No matter how many times they had fought together, hearing Elwyn cry out in pain was distressing. Dorian tucked the pocket mirror back into his pocket and ran around the corpse of the dragon to find Elwyn.
If he thought Solas looked bad, the Inquisitor looked worse. When the four of them travelled together, the elf was inclined to do something incredibly stupid, like use his bow at short range. Although stouter than most elves, Elwyn wasn't meant to take hits from dragons, much less one as fierce as this one.
Deep breaths, Dorian reminded himself. It took more than a dragon to kill Elwyn. Whether it was incredible luck, incredible talent, or some mix of the two, he always pulled through. It hardly made seeing the grimace of pain on that beautiful face any easier. Less panicking, more comforting.
He was calling out to him as he approached. But the damned man wasn't responding. Not until he was crouched beside him, holding his face. Nothing visibly hurt there, but they winced anyway. Shit. He'd already--
"Vhenan, stop shouting," he mumbled, weakly leaning into Dorian's chest. Oh, this wasn't good. In fact, it might be described as bad.
Suddenly, he was very grateful for those classes he had taken in Nevarra. As irritating as Professor Volkarin had been, he recalled the anatomy he'd learned from the corpses they'd examined. "Please tell me where you're hurting, amatus," he asked, trying to hold him just a bit closer.
He gently manoeuvred Elwyn into a more comfortable sitting position, adjusting as he softly groaned and winced in pain. "Everywhere," he cried, tears welling up in those big green eyes.
That too was a bad omen. He corrected his mental assessment of the situation to 'horrible.' Elwyn cried freely to express his emotions. For all the battles they faced together, he'd never cried from his injuries. This was new.
He extracted one of his hands from Elwyn's side and sent up a rescue flare. As much as Dorian wanted to help, he was a necromancer. And he'd rather not have to use those powers on his lover.