Chapter Text
Being the ‘new kid’ was something Dorian had always dreaded. He was used to it, the parade of schools he’d attended in Tevinter to thank for that, but that didn’t make it any less daunting. There was also a world of difference between Tevinter and Ferelden.
Dorian tightened his tie, trying to ignore the stares of his peers. Though he was human, like the majority of the other students, he still stood out amongst them. He was dressed as they were, in the hideous blue-on-blue blazer and slacks, but he couldn’t hide the gold of his skin. His ink black hair, his posture, and his accent were like a neon sign, labelling him as ‘other’. He held his head high, ignoring the whisperings of the children around him. At least he could pull off the school uniform.
He walked quickly towards his history lesson, messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He was tempted to skip class- Mr Rainier had proven to be an endlessly boring teacher- but Dorian was determined to last at least a semester without getting in trouble, lest he be forced to move to yet another school. It would be a challenge, but he preferred not to draw any more attention to himself than he already had.
Dorian had never regretted going to class more. He sat slumped in his desk, glasses sliding down his nose, barely listening to Mr Rainier as he droned on about the Templar Order. He had no interest in hearing about the heroics of men in tin suits as they subjugated the mages they were meant to protect. Dorian sighed, rolling his eyes as Rainier began talking about Knight-Commander Greagoir and his great deeds. Leave it to the backwards South to glorify imprisonment.
Though Dorian’s skin had prickled uncomfortably for most of the lesson, the phrase “for their own good” snatched his attention. He sat up, chewing on his lip as he listened to Rainier lecture.
“Circles aren’t what they used to be” he explained, arms crossed over his chest, “towers have been done away with. Mages now reside in villages routinely patrolled by Templars.”
Dorian scoffed, rolling his eyes. Rainier looked at him, raising a dark eyebrow.
“Got something to say, have you?”
So much for going unnoticed. There was tittering around the classroom, students giggling as they stared at the new boy, keen to see his hasty retreat at being called out by the teacher. Dorian wasn’t fazed, however; he leaned forwards in his chair, giving Rainier as smile he knew was dripping with condescension, “the way you describe Circles makes them sound like holiday homes, where mages are free to come and go as they please, rather than the dressed-up detention centres they truly are.”
“Isn’t it better that they’re kept segregated? Safer?”
Dorian stiffened, the response not coming from Rainier, who stood at the front of the room, a look of boredom on his face. Dorian turned, trying to find the other speaker. He was disappointed when he realised who it was; Cullen Rutherford. Cullen had seemed to be sensible. And Dorian couldn’t help but admit that he was very easy to look at, his freckled cheeks and golden curls contrasting with the broadness of his shoulders. A pity that Dorian would have to tear him down.
“You must realise how narrow-minded you sound” Dorian said disdainfully, “the practice was, and is, barbaric.”
Cullen stared at him, “Mages are dangerous.”
“So are men with guns, yet they are free to roam. They even” he gasped dramatically, putting a hand to his chest, “protect us.”
He grinned as a few of his fellow students laughed, though Rainier seemed far less impressed.
“That isn’t the same thing, Dorian” he drawled, “and you know it.”
Dorian tsked him, waving a hand in dismissal. He couldn’t help but find amusement in the growing irritation on Rainier’s face. He wondered how deep his brows would have to furrow to meet in the middle.
Cullen nodded, “you can see a gun. Mages can hide.”
“You needn’t worry” Dorian snapped, “most Southern mages seem too terrified to try anything.”
Cullen leaned forwards in his chair, “I’d prefer to go to sleep at night knowing if the person next to me could become an abomination.”
Dorian barked a laugh, “assuming that anyone would put up with a lummox like yourself long enough to fuck you.”
“Alright!” Rainier stepped forwards, holding up his hands, calling over the ‘ooohs’ of students, “I encourage class debates, but this is getting off topic.”
Dorian ignored him, “tell me, Cullen, have you even met a mage?”
Rainier turned to Cullen, pointing at him, voice stern, “don’t.”
Cullen jerked his chin up arrogantly, “that’s beside the point.”
“Detention!”
Dorian looked up at Rainier, “why?”
Rainier stared at him, incredulous, “you swore in front of a teacher.”
“I didn’t swear” Cullen protested.
Rainier gave him a scathing look, “no, but you egged him on.” Both Dorian and Cullen opened their mouths to argue, but Rainier beat them to it, “shut it! You’ve both disrupted my class!”
Dorian pouted, “it was relevant to the topic.”
Rainier groaned, rubbing a hand across his face, “I am the teacher. You are the student. I do not have to justify myself to you.”
He turned around, picking up the whiteboard marker, and Dorian sensed that anything further from him would just earn him another detention. He turned to Cullen, glaring at him. Cullen flinched under his gaze, looking down at his desk. Dorian smiled, smug, only for it to fall from his face when he turned back to the front of the room. Rainier was staring at him, looking severely unimpressed.
“Congratulations” Rainier said, face stony, “you’ve been here for all of a week and you’ve already found yourself under my skin.”
Dorian rolled his eyes, “I pray that I’m not there long.”
Rainier chuckled, “the feeling is mutual.”
***
Somehow, Ferelden detentions were worse than the ones Dorian had suffered back in Tevinter. At least there he had been made to reorganise the library; something somewhat stimulating. He loathed the question sheet he had been given to complete, staring down at the paper in disgust. He played with his pen, spinning it on the desktop.
Rainier sat at his desk, eyes glued to his phone. Dorian would have been doing the same, but Rainier had taken great pleasure in confiscating his and Cullen’s phones, putting them in a basket on his desk. Dorian hadn’t expected to have a hated teacher so soon. Or such a dislikeable classmate, for that matter. Cullen sat a row ahead of him, to the side. His head was down, shoulders hunched as he worked on the question sheet. Dorian could almost hear the cogs working in his head. Alas, another dumb, sporty type with nothing but meat where his brain should have been.
The screech of metal across linoleum filled the room as Rainier pushed his chair back, still looking at his phone as he walked out of the room. Dorian perked up, hesitating for a moment before he began to gather his things.
“Do you know what the answer to question four is?” Dorian paused, turning. Cullen was looking at him expectantly, “the rites for joining the Grey Wardens?”
Dorian stared at him in disbelief. “Seriously?” he sneered.
Cullen shrugged, as if the altercation in class hadn’t happened, “I don’t know it.”
Dorian rolled his eyes, turning back to his desk, folding up the work sheet, shoving it in his bag.
“I’m sorry if I offended you” Cullen said, and Dorian was taken aback by the sudden softness in his voice, “I didn’t realise I’d struck such a raw nerve.”
Dorian barked a laugh, “I was far from offended. More astounded by your completely asinine opinions.”
Dorian expected Cullen to argue, but the blond surprised him by looking sheepish.
“I’ve actually never met a mage before.”
Dorian couldn’t help laughing at the irony. He was tempted to make something float, just out of Cullen’s peripherals, but he wasn’t sure whether the school had security cameras.
“I know, I sound so naïve” Cullen sighed, misinterpreting Dorian’s amusement, “To be perfectly honest, I feel like it would be kind of cool to be able to do magic. Though I’d be terrified of possession.”
Dorian hummed, the noise decidedly disinterested. Cullen either didn’t pick up on it, or chose to ignore it, much to Dorian’s chagrin.
“You probably already know this, but mages can be taken over by demons while they’re asleep” he continued, leaning towards Dorian, “I can’t imagine-“
Dorian rolled his eyes, “trite Southern fear mongering” he snapped, “in Tevinter, there is a far better grasp of magic. I’m surprised you Fereldens aren’t chasing each other with pitchforks.”
Dorian was doing everything he could to push Cullen’s buttons, keen to discourage the over-eager blond. It didn’t seem to be working, however, considering the wide-eyed wonder that spread across Cullen’s face.
“What’s it like there?” he asked, “up North? I’ve never been out of Ferelden.”
Dorian’s patience had reached its end. He swept his pens into his bag, swinging it over his shoulder as he stood up, “read a book.”
Cullen looked up at him in confusion, “where are you going?”
“I’m leaving.”
Cullen looked as if he was considering following Dorian, hovering awkwardly between sitting and standing. Dorian grimaced, hurrying out of the classroom before Cullen could make up his mind.
***
Dorian strode quickly down the corridor, the final bell echoing loudly, eager to leave his awful first week behind him. Particularly his bizarre detention with Cullen. He rounded a corner, almost free, when he caught sight of Cullen. He grimaced, tilting his head down, trying to rush past before he could be spotted.
“Dorian!”
He stopped, groaning. Why was this boy so persistent? He turned, not bothering to plaster a fake smile across his face, fixing Cullen with a hard glare. He hoped the way his glasses slid down his nose a little added to the severity.
Cullen jogged up to him, golden curls bouncing, sleeves of his blazer pushed up to his elbows. Dorian couldn’t help thinking that Cullen looked like a mabari, goofy grin only adding to the comparison. He wrinkled his nose.
“I covered for you.”
Dorian furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “excuse me?”
Cullen was nodding, looking strangely pleased with himself, “when you left detention. Blackwall came back and I told him you went to sick bay. So, if you see him, hide.”
“Blackwall?”
Cullen’s eyes opened wide, “oh! Blackwall is Rainier. Long story.”
Dorian grimaced, “I see.”
Cullen ducked his head a little, hand going up to the back of his neck, “I felt bad. I thought it would at least make some reparations for earlier.”
The awkward tension hung so thick in the air that it could be cut with a knife. Dorian looked around for an escape, desperate to leave. He normally would have just told Cullen that he was finished with the conversation, but the boy was so painfully earnest that Dorian couldn’t bear it. He didn’t find it endearing, far from it, but to hurt him would be like kicking a puppy.
“We have history again tomorrow” Cullen said, and for once Dorian was thankful he was breaking the silence, “I hope there isn’t another argument.”
Dorian could see that Cullen had meant it as a joke, but he couldn’t help replying, “do you plan on saying anything as stupid as you did today?”
Cullen’s cheeks suddenly went scarlet, taking Dorian by surprise. There Cullen was, six feet tall, the very picture of Ferelden masculinity, and he was blushing like a school girl. If nothing else, Dorian found it amusing.
Cullen opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was interrupted by the arrival of a girl. Dorian had seen her around before, Sophia Trevelyan. Brown hair and blue eyes, fair skin. She was pretty, he supposed, in a bland way. She would have looked nicer if she wasn’t sneering at him. Dorian stared back at her, unflinching.
“Can I help you?”
She scoffed, turning to Cullen, “Cully-Wully” she whined, “why are you talking to him?”
Dorian was taken aback. He hadn’t spoken a word to the girl and yet she already had taken a dislike to him. Though, he couldn’t really be surprised, he supposed. What did surprise him, however, was that Cullen smiled at him.
“We’re friends” he said, eyes not moving from Dorian, “from history class.”
Dorian couldn’t help feel a surge of satisfaction at the scandalised look on Trevelyan’s face. She turned all her attention to Cullen, her arms crossed over her chest, “why?”.
Dorian gave Trevelyan a patronising smile, “I imagine it’s because he needed a break from you.”
Trevelyan gasped, a deep scowl twisting her features. She wrapped her arm around Cullen’s, tugging him, “let’s go.”
Cullen began to follow, looking back at Dorian. The expression on his face couldn’t have been less enthusiastic, yet he continued to let Trevelyan drag him away.
“She’s delightful!” Dorian called after him.
Cullen mouthed ‘sorry’ before turning around, disappearing into the sunny afternoon. Dorian laughed to himself, hoping that, if Cullen couldn’t take a hint, his petulant girlfriend would keep him at bay. He was in decidedly better spirits as he began his walk home.