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Cole was unaccountably nervous.

His talk with Varric had been several weeks ago, and in the time that had elapsed Cole had been more and more sure that his feelings for Mihril were of a particularly romantic nature, and that he had absolutely no idea how to go about telling her. He'd remembered Varric's words about a date, and after some subtle research he had decided this might just be the thing. It had taken a lot of deliberation to figure out where to go, exactly; at first he wanted to find somewhere inside Skyhold, but though the hold wasn't quite as full of people as it had been during Corypheus' rise, there wasn't anywhere you could go that wasn't technically public.

Mihril had expressed interest in seeing the places where Cole found his curiosities, and this seemed suitably private and, given the proper preparation, safe. The Inquisitor had recently discovered some elven ruins and spent several days clearing the place of corruption, and though now the majority of the ruin's secrets had been revealed, there had been a network of tunnels and rooms that needed more attention than a small group of travelers could give. Cole had mentioned the place to Jean, and suggested that he knew one of the enchanters who would be very interested in studying the place, provided they had the correct protection.

He'd brought the idea to Mihril, who had accepted, leaving Cole with the hard part: figuring out what to say.

Days of considering it had only left Cole frustrated, until he decided to just make the trek, and think of something when the moment was right.

They had to make the journey from the Inquisition camp to the ruins themselves, but the road had been kept clear and there wasn't any danger. Cole was quiet the whole way, trying to think up good words to describe his feelings, and before he'd said anything at all the ruins were before them, steps and a doorway sunken into the forest floor, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

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Mihril had hardly been paying attention, too caught up in taking in the sights of the forest around them. It would have all been much too overwhelming if Cold hadn't been with her. She stumbles a little when Cole stops in front of her, bumping lightly into his back.

"Oh!" she says, "Here already? That was...quick, I wasn't expecting it to be here. Good thing we didn't fall in." She descends the staircase slowly, pushing the door open with careful hands, and is surprised by how easily the ancient door slides open.

The ceiling inside was much higher than one would expect before entering. Several pillars supported it, each one covered in old runes. There were a few torches, which were now lit by veilfire -- Jean's work, no doubt -- which illuminated the room and the passages splitting off from it with a dim green light. Mihril walks over to one of the pillars, tracing their slender fingers over the carvings in it.

"Wow," they say, "No one's been here in ages. Except those who cleared it out recently, of course. Th-thank you again. For bringing me, I mean, I'm glad you did."

Cole nods absently, hanging back a little to survey the room and listen closely for any sounds that shouldn't be there. The ruins were thoroughly cleaned out, yes, but Cole doesn't want anything to go wrong. There were a few Inquisition soldiers milling around the entrance, and a small group of them were working to clear the rubble from a collapsed tunnel, but other than that they were alone.

"I thought you would be interested," he said simply, walking over to one of the braziers and lighting a torch to bring back over to Mihril, "Jean would like to preserve this place, if possible." He hovers over Mihril's shoulder, placing his hand on the runes and feeling the subtle vibration of magic through his palm.

"I like veilfire," he says, turning his head to look into the torch, "It doesn't want to destroy. It wants to search."

Mihril smiles, flushing a little at how close Cole now stood.

"Yes," she says, watching the flames flicker and dance in the dark, "It's lovely. I've never seen it up close before." She takes the torch from him and holds it to the carvings on the wall.

"I can't make sense of any of this," they mutter with a soft laugh, "I never learned to speak Elvish before the circle took me. I never had a chance to be taught. Perhaps I'll come back with one of the scholars."

She starts to step away from him, to go look at the other parts of the room, but finds that the idea of putting distance between them is rather unappealing. Shyly, she takes his wrist with her free hand, bringing him with her to the other side of the room.

"Look at this," she says, pointing to a series of pictures carved into one of the stone walls, "Pictures of the elven pantheon. There's Elgar'nan, and Mythal, and over there is Fen'harel and Dirthamin. Falon'din is raised above the others. Maybe this was a temple to him?"

Cole blushes a little when Mihril touches his hand, and watches her face instead of the wall when she speaks about the picture. The Elven gods aren't any more interesting to him now than they were when Solas tried to share their stories with Cole, he'd always preferred the tangible sound and feel of magic rather than the ancient memories of people who had long forgotten their sorrows.

He liked to hear Mihril talk about it, though, and watched them with interest as they spoke. Cole looked from the gentle sweep of their eyelid to the soft freckles dotted over her nose, and then down to where their hand was still curled tightly around his wrist, and words started to claw their way up his throat.

"Mihril, I wanted to--" he started to say, his voice slightly strangled, and then he was interrupted by a familiar voice calling out to him.

"Cole?" said Dorian, standing over in the doorway, and Cole jerked around to stare at him. Cole moved on instinct, stepping slightly in front of Mihril as if to protect them from a blow, "I have a bone to pick with you." The stern surprise fell off Cole's face, replaced with confusion.

"You have a bone?" Cole repeated, pulling a face, and Dorian rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Excuse my turn of phrase. I have an issue, I mean," Dorian said, strolling forward as if he hadn't a care in the world, "I had to hear it from Jean that you were escorting some mages to study these fascinating ruins, and you didn't include me! You know how I feel about research, Cole, it makes me all tingly," Dorian said with an illustrative gesture, "I am deeply, deeply wounded." For all his drama Dorian seemed very interested in the ruins, as he walked right past Cole and planted his hands on his hips to survey the room. The he seemed to notice something and looked back at Cole, his eyes flicking over his shoulder to where Mihril still stood.

"You only brought one mage? Well, then, it's lucky I came anyways, isn't it!"

Mihril had jumped and ducked behind him when she's heard the voice, releasing her grip on his wrist. She peers curiously over his shoulder, standing on her toes to look at the man standing before them.

"You're...Dorian, aren't you?" she says, her voice small and quiet, "The Tevinter mage who fought alongside the Herald. You come in sometimes to have enchantments done. I see you in the library all the time."

Dorian looks blankly at the mage who recognizes him for a moment, trying to place her face. He thinks he vaguely remembers someone handing him a rune he'd asked for, but he cannot remember if he's ever spoken to this mage before.

"I see my reputation precedes me!" dorian says with a flourish, stepping around Cole to bow graciously at them, "I'm afraid I do not have the same pleasure, as I do not know your name." Dorian takes one of Mihril's hands lightly in his, barely brushing his lips against their knuckles as he smiles at her, turning on the charm to cover up his guilt at not recognizing one of his fellow mages. That Dorian was self-centered, however, was news to nobody.

Cole watches Dorian with something like horror, the words he'd been about to say to Mihril still on his tongue.

"This is Mihril," Cole says, sounding stern and stepping slightly in front of them again, "My friend," he said defiantly, as if Dorian were going to contradict him, "And I didn't escort a troupe of mages, I just wanted to show the ruins to my friend."

"Oh, splendid!" Dorian says, Cole's attempt at a hint going right over his head as he turned a brilliant smile back on Mihril, "Cole is the truest judge of character I have ever met, and I would be thrilled to call any friends of his friends of mine as well."

Mihril turns a deep shade of red and looks away when Dorian kisses her hand, a greeting that had never been afforded her, as an elven mage with a menial job. When her hand is free again, she straightens her robes and clears her throat, folding her hands in front of her and smiling shyly. She hadn't been expecting anyone else, and it was taking some effort to adjust to this new, somewhat boisterous presence, but he seemed nice enough, and he was a friend of Cole's.

"Thank you," she says, her cheeks still tinged pink, "Cole has been...a good friend, to me. We're happy to have you along, I'm sure. You don't read elven languages, do you? I was curious about these carvings, but...I can't make any sense of them."

Dorian smiles warmly at Mihril, not surprised at all that Cole has found such a gentle, sweet mage to befriend.

"Ah, I'm afraid the study of Elven languages is somewhat frowned upon in Tevinter... But then, I never did follow the rules," Dorian says with a wink, moving over to light his own veilfire torch, "I don't claim to be fluent, but I know a little. Let's see what we have here."

Cole stands back with his arms crossed over his chest while Dorian deliberates over the runes, wondering if there's any way to salvage his plan. He had been so nervous leading up to this outing, but now that the chance had been taken from him he was sad that he hadn't been able to tell Mihril how he felt. Sighing softly, he decided that even if Dorian had treaded all over his plan for day, he would have another chance. And that didn't mean he couldn't still enjoy Mihril's company.

Mihril talks with Dorian for some time, offering a shy laugh occasionally as he jokes with her, but her eyes keep flitting back to Cole, as he stands a short ways off from them with his arms crossed over his chest. She finds herself smiling slightly as she looks at him, losing focus on Dorian's rambling, even as interested as she was. Casually, she points at some of the carvings closer to where Cole is standing near a passage opening, searching for an excuse to stand near him again.

"What about those over there?" they ask, taking a step towards them, "What do they say?"

Cole turns to look at the carvings that Mihril points out, tilting his head a little as he sees ancient magic flitting over the stone. Dorian steps quickly over to where she motions to, steeping inside the passage to tap his fingers against the carvings.

"This one means open, I think," Dorian says, and Cole frowns as the magic in Dorian's hands seems to activate the magic in the stone.

"There's some kind of magic in those carvings," Cole says, still frowning as Dorian looks delighted.

"Oh, really? Some kind of magically-activated door, maybe?" Dorian says, laying his palm flat against the wall just inside the passage, searching for the source, "Should just take a touch--"

"Dorian, no!" Cole cries, as he sees the coiling of dangerous magic inside the stone, but he's a moment too late. There's a huge flash beneath Dorian's palm and an explosion that sends him rocketing backwards into the passage with a shriek. Cole's next thought is on Mihril, who's standing right in the opening of the passage. He moves quickly, grabbing her around the middle and tackling her backwards, into the passage the same way Dorian had gone scant seconds before the ceiling comes tumbling down on where she'd been standing. Cole curls his body over theirs until the rumbling stops, taking the brunt of the ricocheting rocks so they won't hit Mihril.

When the rocks finally settle he eases back, knowing it's so dark that if he couldn't see Mihril's magic swirling around her, he probably wouldn't be able to see anything at all.

"Are you hurt?" Cole asks, urgently, listening closely for any pain.

Mihril screams when the tunnel collapsed, and has the wind knocked out of her as Cole jumps on her, knocking her to the ground. She curls up on the stone floor against Cole, and doesn't move until the rocks have settled. She sits up slowly, trembling, reaching for her staff that's gone clattering across the hall, and when she has it in her grasp, the orb at the head of it lights up, glowing a dim shade of blue in the darkness.

"No, I'm not hurt," she says, voice unsteady, fighting down a panic, "I cut my leg, it's nothing serious though. Are you hurt? Are we -- we're trapped in, aren't we. Where is Dorian? How are we going to get out?"

The fear comes crashing over her in waves, and she can't fight it off anymore, giving into the nervousness that sets her hands shaking violently and her knees almost buckling beneath her.

Cole feels the panic creeping up on Mihril with his own urgency, sitting back and taking her hands into his.

"It's all right, Mihril," he says in the calm but serious voice he has learned helps Mihril the most, "We'll get out. Dorian's all right, and there's a team of soldiers on the other side of those rocks. Everything will be fine," he says, rubbing his thumbs over Mihril's hands, and then adds, somewhat more quietly, "I'm here."

Then, from somewhere behind them, Dorian groans.

"Oh, my head," Dorian says, and Cole keeps rubbing Mihril's hands, knowing Dorian's pain is mostly physically minor, "Oh, shit, Cole? Mihril? Is that you, are you all right?" Dorian sits up suddenly, panic edging into his voice.

"We're unharmed," says Cole, "Mihril is scared."

"Oh, of all the foolish things to do, I do apologize profusely to you both, I owe you both a month's worth of your most hated chores, to be completed as soon as I get you out of here," Dorian blabbers to cover his guilt and shame, and if Cole doesn't jump to soothe him, well, he doesn't think anyone could blame him.

Mihril lets out a shaky sigh, relieved to hear Dorian's voice coming through the darkness. The idea of having to watch someone she's just met die, in addition to being trapped in a ruined tunnel, was too much for her to bear. Her focus turns to Cole, his calming presence, and her hands in his rough ones. She holds them, pushing her fingers between the gaps in his, moving close and resting her forehead on his bony shoulder as she catches her breath.

"I'm alright, I'm not scared anymore," she says, in a voice so soft it's nearly a whisper. "Thank you, Cole."

Cole breaths a sigh of relief at the easing of Mihril's panic, taking his own comfort from their touch and the gentle hum of her magic that twists against his skin.

"Well, that's a relief," Dorian says, and Cole jerks away from Mihril right before a bright light erupts from the tip of Dorian's staff, "That's better." Dorian's smile is pained in the light and there's blood trickling down his forehead, but his eyebrow goes up as he glances between them.

"Hello? Can you hear me in there?" calls a voice of one of the guards, muffled through the rock.

"Yes, we're here!" Dorian calls back, stumbling over a few larger rocks to get closer to the source of the voice, "We're all right, can you get us out?"

"We'll try! We've sent for some mages, they might be able to help with the heavy lifting."

"Good idea! I'd help, but I'm afraid the blow drained my power, so to speak. I'll try to find another exit on this side."

Cole watched as Dorian struggled back over the rocks, stumbling a little when the ground was flat under his feet.

"Well, are you coming?" Dorian asked, conjuring a small flame in the palm of his hand. Cole glanced back at Mihril, frowning a little.

"I think we'd better stay. Mihril's leg is hurt, and she'll get nervous in the dark. I'll stay with them," Cole says, frowning a little and then settling with his back against the wall and his dagger drawn and laying across his lap.

"Hm, very well," Dorian said, casting around for something and then turning to a medium-sized rock lying in the middle of the passageway. He squatted, putting both hands on the rock and closing his eyes. After a long, silent moment the rock sputtered and then was engulfed in blue flame. When Dorian stood up again he stumbled, one hand going out to catch his balance against the wall.

"Okay, note to self: stop using magic," he said, and then ambled down the dark passage.

Mihril lowers her staff to check the cut on her leg, which was bleeding somewhat profusely. She winces, and removes her scarf, holding it to her leg to try and stop the blood from flowing quite so steadily.

"I might've been crushed if you hadn't--" she starts, finding eye contact difficult to maintain, "Thank you again, Cole, I mean it. I really --"

They look down the hall, checking to see if Dorian is still within earshot. He isn't, but they still bring their voice lower, as if they were telling him a secret.

"I really don't know what I would do without you."

Cole pulls the scarf from her hands, rolling it a couple of times and then tying it tightly around her wound.

"I wouldn't let anything happen to you," Cole says, keeping his gaze on the makeshift bandage as his thumbs checked the fit, "Ever."

He's never quite been sure what to do when people thank him--he ignores it usually, but Mihril's words echo strangely in his head, something about the intent with which it is said resonates, and Cole isn't quite sure what to do about it.

As much as he hates that Mihril is hurting, at the same time he's glad for something to occupy him, something to focus on that isn't the strange twisting feeling in his chest. He can protect Mihril, he can help them, and that's what he focuses on.

Mihril swallows, watching Cole tie the bandage around her leg. When he finishes they are quiet, sitting alone in the dark of the ruin, and Mihril becomes more and more aware of just how alone they are. They swallow again, tugging lightly at the collar of their shirt.

"Cole--" they start, but no words follow, as they find their mouth has gone dry. Instead, they rest their hand on his, and, after a moment's hesitation, they tip forward, pecking him lightly on the lips, her teeth knocking against his before she pulls back. She wipes her mouth, and clears her throat.

"...Sorry," she says, flushing deeply.

Cole turns his face up towards Mihril when he feels their nerves creeping back up, his eyebrows starting to draw together in concern when Mihril leans forward. Cole's eyes go wide at the brief kiss, staring at Mihril as they lean back and blush.

Cole doesn't feel any particular tingling or swooping at the kiss itself, his mouth doesn't feel any different, except perhaps a little sore where their teeth knocked against his. He does, however, feel a peculiar warmth in his chest, and awe at Mihril's actions.

"You kissed me," Cole says, stunned, "I didn't know you could kiss me. Why did you kiss me?"

Mihril pulls her legs up, hugging them and resting her forehead on her knees.

"Stupid. Stupid! I'm so sorry, forgive me, I didn't mean to -- it's just, I've come to care for you so much, you've been nothing but good to me, and -- augh."

She rocks herself nervously, still unable to look at him directly as she does.

"Forgive you? For what?" Cole asks cluelessly, growing agitated as he feels Mihril's mounting anxiety. He wants to go back, undo whatever it is he said that was wrong, but he settles for combing through his own words and the panicky thoughts running through Mihril's head.

"You're not stupid, Mihril," he says, reaching up to lay his palm against the back of Mihril's head, "I care for you as well. A-A great deal. That's why I... I wanted to talk to you. To tell you. That's what Varric said I should do."

Mihril stops rocking, turning her head to look at Cole curiously, feeling some of her anxiety fade at the touch of his hand on the back of their head.

"You wanted to talk to me?" they ask, "I-Is that...why we're here?"

"Yes," Cole says, nodding, meeting Mihril's gaze before feeling a strange twisting in his gut and looking away, "I thought it would be fun, and I would have a chance to tell you how I feel. And then..."

As if on cue, there's an echoing crash from further down the passage, followed by a call of "I'm all right!"

"Dorian."

The heat in Mihril's face was starting to cause beads of sweat to form on their brow, and they wipe them away carefully with a finger. They can't help but laugh, quietly, at the sound of Dorian clattering around down the tunnel, and the laughing helps to calm her nerves. When she lowers her hand again she rests it back over Cole's, tentatively at first, but then letting the weight of her arm settle over him.

"So...was kissing you...all right, then?" she asks after a moment.

Cole lets his grip slide to the back of Mihril's neck, fascinated by how enjoyable such a simple touch can be.

"Yes," he says, rubbing his thumb back and forth over Mihril's neck, "It was all right. I didn't think this could be so easy. Everyone is always so dramatic about it. If I hadn't helped them, I don't think Varric and Jean would have gotten together at all." He turns his hand under Mihril's to lace their fingers together, "This feels easy."

Mihril smiles and looks down at their hands, the pain in her leg now almost completely forgotten. She leans forwards, bumping her forehead against Cole's as she moves closer to him.

"It is easy, isn't it?" she says, "I didn't think it could be, either, but...I'm glad."

She tilts her head back up and angles it slightly, kissing him again, longer, this time, than before.

Cole smiles brightly as Mihril leans in, welcoming the kiss though he is still worried about how he hadn't felt anything in the last one. This time, however, he does feel a kind of tingling, like a shiver that crawls pleasantly up his spine, and he sighs happily. He's not quite sure what to do with his mouth, how to do this correctly, but he moves his lips experimentally against Mihril's and it seems okay.

His movements are unsure and unexperienced but enthusiastic nonetheless; so enthusiastic, in fact, that he doesn't hear the echo of footsteps coming nearer.

"It seems the path ahead is blocked as well but-- Oh, my," Dorian says, grinding to halt as he gets close enough to see what they're up to. Cole stops the kiss, but not abruptly, and doesn't bother moving away from Mihril as he turns his head to look at Dorian. Dorian is gaping at them, one hand over his mouth.

"Maker, I've crashed your date," Dorian says, sounding mortified, "Quite literally."

Mihril pulls away reluctantly, not wanting to stop but not wishing to continue in front of a near stranger. She is flushed to the tips of her ears, and she can't quite look Dorian in the face. Instead, she looks at Cole fondly, a tiny smile forming on her lips.

"It's all right," she says shyly, with a slight giggle, "You didn't mean to. It...worked out anyway, I think."

"Did it? Well, then, I'll be happy to take credit," Dorian says, smiling brightly.

"Dorian!" Cole protests, and Dorian just laughs.

Dorian sits down next to them and Cole only moves far enough back from Mihril so that he's not in her lap. Dorian chats amiably with them, mostly drilling Cole for information about Mihril, and how he'd kept his little affair a secret for so long.

It takes the guards several hours to dig them up, but by the time they make their way back to Skyhold Cole feels curiously light and happy, with Mihril's hand in his the whole way.

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