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Dorian can't help but notice the look on Leitos' face, seeing how close they're pressed together as they slowly turn their way across the hall's dancing floor. Perhaps it's all the staring, perhaps it's the nights activities--but he's seen the elf under all different kinds of duress, and that is not what troubles him. He pulls Leitos in a little closer, until his lover looks at him.
"Should we retire? You look... Out of sorts," the mage says quietly, and again Leitos' eyes shift to the crowd around them.
"No, my mind is just drifting I suppose." The elf smiles, a soft, sad thing that makes Dorian frown.
"Not to the feeling of my irresistible body against yours, it seems."
Leitos tosses his head and laughs, which is good to see. If there were people in the hall that hadn't been staring before, they are now .
"Well, that is always on my mind, but this time, it's not at the forefront." His grin is all fond tolerance, and Dorian mirrors it, though something in his gut squirms. He worries maybe he'd done something wrong, said something...
"I would have half a mind to be offended if that didn't worry me so much," he tells Leitos as the music flows into another song. They continue their idle sway, Dorian not content to let his lover be taken away by all the tittering, curious Orlesian nobles once more, and Leitos, apparently content to stay.
"What is it?" Dorian murmurs leaning in slightly to brush his nose against the elf's, which makes him smile softly.
"It's..." With a deep inhale, Leitos scans the room as much as he can in their position, looking to Dorian like he's surveying the field of battle, appraising the enemies that surround them subtly. The mage supposes that isn't far off, though.
"This place is built on the bones of my people," he murmurs, lip curling in sudden disgust, "Halamshiral is what we named it, the end of our journey, and they presume to keep it. These humans may not be responsible, but their people were. They could have given back these lands if they weren't so greedy."
For a moment, he is silent, eyes on the Orlesians around them. Dorian has always felt a little guilty for the sins of his people, of humans, especially after meeting Leitos. The elf had assured him, however, it was something he shouldn't shoulder, and joked that after all, his lover was Dalish. But that didn't quite do, not for Dorian.
He stays quiet now, knowing Leitos has more to share.
"I'm disgusted. And I'm - I'm sad I - " His words catch, and Dorian clutches him tight. He wants to send this palace into a giant conflagration so hot that the bastards can see it all the way from Val Voyeaux.
"My ancestors, I'm heartbroken for them, and I feel I've betrayed The People by saving this empire, allying with them." Withdrawing, he looks up to Dorian with his eyes bright and dangerous as red lyrium, but he looks...lost.
"I've done the right thing, haven't I? I've - I did this for the Inquisition, for Thedas as a whole, for all people. And yet I feel I've wronged my own."
"Oh amatus," Dorian whispers on a sigh, leaning in to press his lips to Leitos' cheek and stays there, wanting to be close, to reassure him.
For a few moments, he isn't sure what to say, because he's never been incredibly skilled in the art of comforting words, nor has he ever had anyone to offer them to. Felix is the closest thing, and even then it dissolved into teasing and jokes.
But Leitos is different. He's become so terribly, terribly important to Dorian.
"You've done what's right for every living thing in Thedas. Human, elf, Qunari, and Maker only knows what Corypheous might do with nugs." So maybe he couldn't avoid jokes, but at least it made Leitos smile softly, ducking his head. "There is much yet left to do, in this world and for your people, but...I think they would be proud. Your ancestors that is, and your clan for that matter. The twin sister you tell me so much about, would she not look upon all you've done with pride?"
Leitos nods minutely in concession.
"And who's to say you won't take these lands back some day," Dorian murmurs, glancing around at the crowd as if he were the one who had planned an assassination. "War hardened, with all the elves of the land behind him and the forces of the Inquisiton, with the mage's he gave asylum to, with the mercenaries and stragglers and wardens, the illustrious, Grand Inquisitor Lavellan rides to take back what had centuries ago belonged to his people."
Another song bleeds into another, this one faster, but their pace stays the same, oblivious to the celebration around them. Leitos is smiling again, intrepidly, but Dorian counts it as a victory.
"You paint quite the picture," the elf says, his eyes fixed on Dorian's face, and they're filled with adoration. Love, and it constricts something in the mage's chest. "But you left someone out; what of the Mage of Tevinter that accompanied him on so many a journey and campaign? How could you forget him?"
Dorian scoffs.
"I haven't. He too would be there, at the Inquisitors side, perhaps with other Tevene as well."
"Oh?" Leitos' eyebrows arch with intrigue.
"After years of fighting for it, I imagine he abolishes slavery in his home country, and with that peace of mind, returns for his amatus," Dorian adds with a grin, though Leitos stares at him for a little while, lips frozen in a smile. But then he leans forward, and presses a lingering kiss to Dorian's lips.
"I never took you for a story teller," he says softly, "but I like it. It's a good story."