Dorian's mustache is a national treasure. Fight me.
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Whatever Taylor had talked to Solas about, it'd put Dorian's fellow mage into a thoughtful mood. "Sovereign for your thoughts?" the Tevinter mage offered quietly to the frowning Elf.
After a pained glance, likely due to the ass thinking his thoughts were worth at least 10 Sovereigns, Solas sighed and muttered, "I expected a spirit, and found something… more."
"Well, I'm certainly not about to question it." Dorian replied confidently, looking ahead to where Princess Hebert was riding alongside Inquisitor Lavellan; from what little he could hear, they were talking about Fennecs, "After all, if an ancient Tevinter Magister can return from the dead, as Varric claims, it's not much of a stretch to believe a slip of a girl can be so determined and whimsical as to bind her soul to a spirit."
"And her abilities?" challenged Solas, glancing at a nearby Wyvern.
Dorian shrugged and grinned, "She used them to terrorize the Venatori, and the benefits outweigh the scary bits… like how she killed all the rats." Both mages shared a shudder; pests or not, no animal should be treated to the methodical eradication the Princess visited upon the rats with her spiders. Her Mabari-sized spiders.
Their thoughts were interrupted by Princess Hebert saying that there was a large, open area ahead, with scattered Dwarven ruins within.
"Well, it seems we've found the Tomb of Fariel." Dorian reported while he and Solas hustled toward the Inquisitor, who was running with Cassandra, trying to keep pace with the Princess' Wyvern, "Also, can you imagine the look on the Ferelden King's face when he hears about a Wyvern named after him?"
Solas scoffed, but smiled, "I can't imagine, though Leliana might have a better idea." He paused, then sighed, "I hope the letter doesn't distress her too much."
They didn't have any more time for conversation, as a box canyon came into view. Four ruined sections, towering constructions of grey pillars, marked the cardinal directions; the Inquisition's party and the Princess' "forces" had entered from the west, giving them a good view of the grand façade and staircase that marked the legendary Paragon Fariel's final resting place… and the vast courtyard between the Inquisition and the front door.
The vast courtyard with toppled pillars, scattered debris… and a sleeping High Dragon curled dead center.
One of the scouts swore softly, earning a slap from the sergeant.
Then Nora started giggling, "Cassandra, what kind of dragon do we have here?"
"Do I look like an expert on draconology to you?"
"Huh, yeah, point. I'll just have to bring some of its hide to Frederic in the Approach," the Inquisitor drew Verdict with a wicked grin.
"You most certainly will not!" only to have the most likely course of action – getting down and dirty with what was clearly an adult High Dragon, cancelled by the crystalline spirit-girl riding a Desert Wyvern, and those boots were very nice. "Harm that beautiful, powerful creature?"
"Uh, Inquisitor?" everyone looked over at one of the scouts – a Ferelden recruit by his accent – who was holding a small book, "Accordin' to this book on dragon types, that there's called a Sandy Howler."
A cricket chirped. While that was hilarious – because he knew for a fact that Taylor Hebert was controlling every bug in the valley – Dorian couldn't help but wonder-
"Private," spoke Nora Lavellan dryly, "Where did you get that book?"
"Bookseller, in Val Royeaux, your Worship. Picked it up last time you sent us there, for grenade recipes, my Lady."
"Huh. Cassandra? This scout is to be attached to our party whenever we go out; make sure you tell Cullen – wait, no, I'll just add a little to the letter." Nora blew out a sigh, then looked at the Princess, who was starting to… vibrate? "Princess?"
"I'M GOING TO NAME HER SANDY!" and Alastair the Desert Wyvern reared and bellowed, his master crying to the heavens, "HI-HO ALASTAIR! AWAY!" Before anyone could stop them or protest, Wyvern and girl bounded over the craggy rocks, headed straight for the stirring High Dragon.
"Shit!" Nora spun and looked at everyone, "Scouts, spread out and watch for… dragonlings?" Said creatures were popping out of holes all over the canyon, all of them heading straight for the High Dragon… who wasn't roaring. Or attacking any of the creatures of the Princess, who were forming a ring around the dragon and spirit-girl. "Um, Solas? Cole?"
"She is very happy." Cole sighed, making Dorian feel slightly ill; poor boy was clearly smitten.
"Perhaps we should, ah, go see what she's saying to it?" Solas suggested, stepping forward pointedly; Dorian had to admit, everything seemed safe, with none of the dragonlings trying to attack… which was strange, as they were known to hate Wyverns.
Minutes later, they were standing within earshot of Taylor Hebert, who was… scratching the High Dragon's chin. While Dorian could have gone his whole life without seeing such a thing – and Cassandra as well, given how her helmet was shaking… the Tevinter mage really hoped Solas was regretting bringing everyone, particularly Inquisitor Lavellan, within earshot of this most surreal event.
"Who's a pretty girl?"
GRRROOOWWW.
"It's you!"
PRRGGGGRRRR.
"Yes! Sandy is the prettiest High Dragon in all Thedas!"
The High Dragon – Sandy, apparently – started to wag its tail and rumble contentedly under Princess Hebert's continuing praise and ministrations.
After realizing that Solas was busy imitating a statue, and Cole was still smiling fondly like an idiot, Dorian slowly stepped forward, and, knowing he was keeping his face carefully blank out of long practice – and to keep from screaming girlishly like he wanted to – he examined Cassandra's face.
The Seeker of Truth was staring, mouth agape, her whole expression, from her limply hanging sword to the sweat starting to bead on her brow, revealing the confused horror that was certainly running through Cassandra Petaghast's veins. This was a good thing, to Dorian, because it meant the whole world hadn't gone completely mad.
Then he looked at the Inquisitor, who looked like… well, like someone told her she could burn the Winter Palace to the ground or something equally violent, and not only wouldn't be punished, but praised for the act. Nora Lavellan looked positively giddy with happiness.
Which was both a good thing, and a bad thing, in Dorian's head.
On one hand, assuming Princess Hebert could control more than one High Dragon, no one would be able – or want, for that matter – to disagree with the Inquisition on anything. Even Corypheus, with his Red Templars and false Archdemon, would be hard-pressed to equal or surpass such potential firepower – pun very much intended.
On the other hand…
"Hey Taylor!" called Nora loudly, as said spirit-girl mounted the High Dragon's head… to scratch its horns, "Now that your quest is done, how'd you like to help me kill Corypheus?"
Blinking in surprise, the Princess' eyes hardened into steel, all her hosts shivering and growling except the High Dragon, who went still, "This is the same Elder Thing that cracked the Black City?" each title was said with the utmost venom, one even the nobles in Minrathous would be hard-pressed to replicate. If the girl wasn't so adorable-looking, Dorian would've taken it seriously.
"The very same!" nodded the Inquisitor sharply, "What say you?"
The spirit-girl looked at the High Dragon under her feet… and smirked.
Then, taking hold of a horn, she shouted to the heavens: "ELDER THING! HEAR ME ROAR!"
Upon which she made all the animals she was controlling, and capable of doing so, roar.
Part of the valley collapsed in a landslide, Cassandra broke down in tears every few miles on the way back to Skyhold, Solas kept saying 'What the fuck' Under his breath at odd times, Cole kept looking at flowers for some disgusting reason, Nora's good mood couldn't be quenched, no matter what anyone did, and, worst of all, Dorian's hearing didn't come back completely for the next two days.
In the end, though, he agreed with Cassandra's first impression of the Hissing Wastes: at least it wasn't the Emprise.