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Chapter Text

Cullen

I don’t know what I’m doing. One moment we were playing chess, and the next…

Let me start at the beginning. The middle, at least. I admit that I was drawn to Inquisitor Lavellan, at first. In awe of her, perhaps, and her ability to unify, to galvanise, to inspire, even without knowing. She looked to me for support. For my expertise. For friendship, and yes, I did want more. But she was in love with Solas, almost from the start. And yes, I was a little disappointed - but not pining, as Dorian says when he’s teasing me.

But then I started…noticing him. His striking eyes, first, that seem to shift from grey to brown, depending on the light, and sometimes his mood. Distracting, sometimes, in conversation, so that I lose my train of thought. And the creases at the corners when he smiles, or when he flirts. He flirts with everyone, of course. I’m not sure when I realised it was more than that, with me. I’ve been attracted to men in the past, although I’ve never been with one, like that. So it took a little time, certainly.

I watched his easy manner with Iron Bull, and it made me feel odd. It felt an awful lot like jealously, but that made no sense. Until it made sense.

Dorian

I’ve never seen anything like this man. Tall, broad, blonde hair I want to run my fingers through - bright, brave and dreadfully serious. He is bold when he speaks of warfare - which is enough to get my pulse racing - and completely at sea when he speaks of love. Well, sex.

He’s in love with Lav, but then who isn’t? She turns heads, and not just because she’s an elf at the helm of the Inquisition.

He’s utterly adorable, and I want him.

We play chess, I flirt, and he smiles back. First politely, then amicably, then - yes, I hear definite fondness in his laugh one day. Andraste’s ankles, that laugh.

I send myself to my room in disgrace for behaving like a schoolboy.

Chapter Text

Dorian

“Commander,” I ask him one day, as we take our regular constitutional along the battlements (I asked him one evening and he clearly couldn’t think of an excuse to say no - but now he comes willingly a few times a week. As it were.) “You were a Templar.”

“I was.” His tone grows guarded. He seems completely taken aback by my next question - though it’s a natural enough one, I think.

“Does that mean you’ve taken a vow of celibacy?”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone blush so fiercely. It’s quite charming. “I…Well, no. I don’t imagine that-”

“That it’s any of my business? You’re quite right, of course.” I pause. “So you haven’t?”

He clears his throat. “It’s not…required. If one chooses to, one can…”

“Aha.” I raise my eyebrows. “I imagine the ladies of Kirkwall were most relieved.”

“Dorian…”

He looks so extraordinarily uncomfortable that I take pity on him. And he hasn’t contradicted or corrected me about ladies, which leaves me feeling rather flat.

We continue our walk - I compliment him for the well turned out appearance of the soldiers we pass on the walls. He seems pleased, but also a little distracted. Is he offended by my teasing?

I try to find another avenue of conversation, because the air between us is awkward in a way it has never been. Just as I open my mouth to comment on the lovely weather, he turns to me.

“What about the ladies of Tevinter?”

I frown. “The…?”

He already looks like he regrets starting this. “You said the ladies of Kirkwall must have been pleased that I…” He clears his throat, avoiding eye contact.

I put two and two together, and him out of his misery. “So you were wondering how the ladies of Tevinter feel about me?”

He nods. We’ve stopped walking by this time, and I face him. “I like men, Cullen. Always have. Romantically,” I add, in case there’s further room for ambiguity.

His eyes meet mine, finally. “Oh.”

“I was under the impression that you knew that,” I say softly.

He swallows hard. “I think I did.”

His eyes are fixed on mine now, and we seem to have drawn closer, somehow.

“What do you like?”

His lips part, but he says nothing - and for a moment I could have sworn he was going to kiss me.

Instead, he draws himself up like the soldier he is, and gives me a tight smile. “I should get back. Thank you for the walk.”

Cullen

I don’t think walking with him is a good idea. I cannot allow myself to be distracted now. Especially not by those eyes, or the thought of kissing him. Or the velvet of his voice as he asked me what I want. I am here for a reason, and it is not Dorian Pavus.

I have resolved to tell him as soon as I can, and I have only to steel myself as I walk towards him, waiting on the battlements. Trying not to notice that smile as he sees me.

Things are off between us, after our last walk - I notice him looking sideways at me today.

“Are you quite all right, Commander?”

I nod, forcing a smile. I want to be back at my desk, looking at my plans. Safe. I need to get on with this. “Things are getting serious,” I say. “We’re very close to Corypheus now.”

“And you’re doing a sterling job, as always,” he says smoothly.

“Thank you.” I stop, looking over the battlements to the snow covered mountains. I love this place. I feel at home here, perhaps more than anywhere else. More than Kirkwall. I think he might be part of the reason for that, and the thought fills me with trepidation. “So I don’t think I can go on our walks anymore,” I say. I try to meet his eyes, but mine stop somewhere around his moustache. “I’m very busy.”

There’s a silence that actually forces me to look at him. I wonder if he’ll be annoyed, or disappointed, even. But there’s nothing but concern in his grey-brown eyes. I would know those eyes anywhere, I find myself thinking. I would know his voice anywhere.

“Have I caused offence somehow?”

I have the ridiculous urge to tell him everything, but I draw myself up. “I simply don’t have time to socialise at present.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” I don’t think he’s moved, but suddenly he seems far too close. Not close enough.

I find myself looking at his lips. They part under my gaze and I hastily look back up into his eyes, which doesn’t help.

“You don’t want to see me anymore?”

“I…” He smells so good. I want to see all of him. I close my eyes briefly, because I need to stop this. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” I swallow hard. “If I’m going to send you into the field - not just you, obviously, all of you, I mean - then I need to make sure the plan is sound.”

“It will be sound,” he tells me, and his hand is on my upper arm with just a little pressure. It feels so good that I know I need to get away. “It always is.”

“I lost her in the Fade, Dorian!” I didn’t mean it to come out so forcefully.

A crease forms between his brows. “You can’t control everything, Commander.” It’s oddly gentle, for him. “We survived, didn’t we?”

I need to be gone. I reach to remove his hand from my arm - another mistake, because my hand lands on his, and his fingers twine with mine as I remove them. So now we appear to be holding hands.

He sees my distress, of course. For someone so outwardly carefree, he is surprisingly astute. And he can read me in a way that’s unhelpful.

Pull yourself together, Rutherford.

He doesn’t let go of my hand. “I’m worried about you.”

“Please, don’t.” I need to be able to walk away, but I’m still holding on to him, too. “There’s no need.”

“It’s snowing,” says Dorian, and suddenly it is, thick flakes falling slowly all around us. We both look up at the swirling sky, and when we look back there is so little space between us.

He’s looking into my face. “Cullen. What is it that you want?”

“I want to kiss you.” I freeze. Maker’s balls, I did not mean to say that. My heart is pounding like I’m in battle.

Dorian’s smile is slow. “I knew it.” There is real desire in his eyes now, not the flirtatious echo.

I am terrified, but that has never stopped me entering the fray. “So…may I?”

But something in his face abruptly changes. He steps away. “Cullen…I-”

“Oh.” My stomach drops. I am horrified. “Forgive me,” I say, looking down. “I’ve clearly misread the situation, I do apologise.”

I turn on my heel and stride away, heart pounding. Dorian calls my name, but I don’t stop. I just want to be away, as far away as possible. I don’t stop until my office door is closed behind me - and then I stand in the middle of the room, reliving our conversation, wishing the rest of the ceiling would fall down on me.

Chapter Text

Dorian

FUCK.

I don’t think I will ever forget the look of raw mortification in Cullen’s eyes as I rejected him. Not that I was trying to reject him, I was simply trying to…UGH.

I spoke to Lav about this - our ideological incompatibilities (because of course running the Inquisition comes second to advising on my romantic endeavours). The Orlesian Templar and the Tevinter mage. The north and south divide personified - our Chantries and Circles of Magi alike only in name.

She said I was overthinking it. That I should ask him about his beliefs. People change. But I didn’t. I didn’t want to know, really, what he may have done to mages in the name of saving them from themselves. For a man of his standing in Kirkwall, it would have been easy to find out. But I didn’t.

And then…I found I couldn’t kiss him with it between us.

So now I’m here, just a coward freezing in the romantic snow that I created for us, to lead him down a path it turned out I couldn’t follow.

Fuck.

I follow him, knocking on the door to his office. There is no reply after I knock twice more, although I know he is in there.

“Cullen?”

No answer. I turn the doorknob, and find it unlocked. I enter, half expecting him to throw something at me. But it’s worse than that - all is silent.

He is leaning on the wall by his window. I don’t see him at first, in the low light of the unlit room.

“Cullen?”

“Not now.” He stares out at the mountains - he has not looked at me yet.

“I just wanted to-”

“Leave me, Dorian, please.”

“I wanted to explain -”

“You don’t need to explain,” he says to the window. “The fault is mine, that is very clear.”

His face is destroying me - tight with hurt and humiliation.

“I thought you were serious,” he says. “I should know by now that you’re not capable of that.”

Ouch. I tell myself that he’s hurt, but still.

“I was serious,” I say. “Am serious. I just couldn’t…”

I can’t string a sentence together. “You’re a Templar.”

“Ah.” He nods, finally looking at me. “So you were toying with me to teach me a lesson? Exacting revenge, is that it?” He shakes his head. “I didn’t think you were so cruel.”

“No, I wasn’t - I didn’t -” I am fucking this up to an impressive degree. Usually I can smooth things out effectively, but for some reason I’m flailing.

Cullen pushes himself off the wall and comes towards me. “Yes, I was a Templar - it was all I ever wanted to be. Yes, I enforced the law of the Circles in Ferelden and Kirkwall. It was my duty to the Chantry, and I believed we were in the right.”

This throws me off - and I leave my apology aside. “By capturing apostates?”

“Yes.” He hesitates. “The Circles protect the mages, for their own safety - without checks or safeguards mages can-”

“Can what? Exert free will?”

Cullen grits his jaw. “We believed it was the right thing to do.” He pauses. “Not unlike your people and those you enslave. One might say.”

“Not at all like that!” I stare at him, confused as to how we got here. “Many who are enslaved would be living a life of deprivation - of extreme poverty - were it not for…But that is not what we are talking about!”

“No,” Cullen says shortly. “We were talking about holding people captive and curtailing their free will.”

“Making mages Tranquil,” I say, “is hardly the same.”

He stares at me for a moment, mouth opening, then closing again. “Just get out.”

“Look, I wanted you to kiss me,” I say. “But I was worried about…this. I didn’t want to start something and then...” I gesture to the two of us, and the gulf between us. “We’re…just ideologically incompatible.”

“Well,” he says shortly. “I don’t want to kiss you anymore, so we can consider it an arrow dodged.”

I nod. “I suppose so.” I take a step backward - he’s not looking at me again, waiting for me to leave. “It has been a pleasure spending time with you, Commander.”

He meets my eyes then, the usual warm hazel of his gaze subdued. He says nothing, so I walk away.

Chapter Text

Dorian

I’m sitting in my book filled alcove, trying to read so my mind will stop seeing Cullen’s face when I stepped back from his offer of a kiss. Trying to forget what I have learned, upon making enquiries into Kirkwall’s former Knight-Captain. To ignore my failure to align these two men in my mind.

It’s not working particularly well.

“Commander.” Leliana’s voice is warm, and I stick my head out to see Cullen standing at her desk. Here on business, apparently.

I go back to my book, trying not to listen. Mostly succeeding.

Then: “Good afternoon, Enchanter Dorian.”

Enchanter Dorian? Two can play that game.

I look up, trying to affect nonchalance. “Commander Rutherford. How fortuitous that you have found the time to leave your office.”

“I’m en route to the War Room,” he points out.

“The long way round, I see. Still, I’m sure you had something important to say to Leliana that couldn’t wait until you got there.”

He draws himself up. “Well. You’re clearly busy as well, so I’ll-”

“My role is with the Inquisitor in the field,” I say, more irritably than intended. “I am allowed to read, am I not, when I’m at Skyhold? I could be reading about magic.”

I am reading a romance novel, which I’m fairly sure he has noticed.

He flushes, and my heart sinks as I realise he wasn’t mocking me. “I wasn’t suggesting…” He stands for a moment, looking utterly, unguardedly miserable, before stepping back. “Forgive me for interrupting.”

I wait until he has gone, then slide down in my chair.

“Fffffuuuuuckkkk.”

Chapter Text

Cullen

I don’t know what has possessed me. The man ignores the complexities of the Orlesian Chantry, judges me from the supposedly exalted heights of the Imperium - where slavery is acceptable…yet I cannot think of anything else but the way he smiled at me on the ramparts. In the snow. Before he decided I was too corrupted to kiss.

I swallowed my pride with a - granted, unconvincing - excuse to see him, and was met with frankly unexpected hostility. So now I just want to ask the Inquisitor to permanently post me to the Fallow Mire, until everything is done and I never have to see him again.

There is a knock at my door. The reports I asked for, hopefully. Anything to take my mind off -

“Dorian.”

He is standing in my doorway, wearing an expression I have never seen on his ridiculously handsome face. He looks uncertain.

“I was dreadfully rude,” he says. “I wanted to apologise.”

I nod. “Thank you.” I wait, but that appears to be all he has to say. “Well, if there’s nothing else, I should-”

He comes into the room, then stops. “I’m finding it hard to reconcile what I know of you with…your past. What you did.”

It’s a very broad statement, but I think I understand.

“You knew who I was,” I say quietly. “No one forced you to spend time with me.”

“I knew you were second in command of the Kirkwall Templars,” he says. “I didn’t know details.”

I watch him, with an ache in my chest. “But you do now.”

He nods. “Hence my difficulty.”

I wonder how to put it into words. I could try to tell him everything - the whole long, bloody story; but really only the outcome matters.

“Knight-Commander Meridith was wrong. And I was wrong to follow her. Making the mages Tranquil in that way, against their will, was…” I stop. “I watch you, and…I cannot imagine you without your power. I cannot imagine how it must feel.”

“Like having your very soul stripped from you, I presume,” he says softly. “Likely worse.”

I nod. “She…we…used it as a punishment, in the end. To subdue mages who dissented, or who she considered to have done. I went along with it for far too long before I came to my senses and made a stand.” I stop, closing my eyes for a moment. “I have to live with what I was a part of. But it’s mine to reconcile.”

“So I shouldn’t ask you?”

“You can ask.” I hesitate, because I don’t want to sound odd…but it’s probably too late for that now. “You’ve helped.”

He frowns. “With what?”

“Even after Kirkwall, I thought mages needed to be watched, the way we did in the Chantry, or who would check them?” I hesitate. “But I see you fight…How you have mastered yourself.” I grimace.

“Tevinter is not ashamed of its mages like the south is,” he points out. “We treasure them; we don’t make them fear their own power. Our Circles are for learning, not judgement. You believe that magic corrupts, we believe it uplifts.”

There is real passion in his voice, and it pricks at my guilt. “But if they are possessed, or ungovernable?”

“What happens if your Templars are?” He holds up a finger as I try to object to this evasion. “And don’t say lyrium protects them, because we know it makes them all go mad in the end.”

I flinch, despite myself. His face changes as he realises what he has said. I doubt this is the first time he has said it - just the first to someone like me.

“Cullen, I-” He clears his throat. “I thought…”

“You can leave the Order,” I say softly. “But it doesn’t loosen the hold of the lyrium.” I feel shame, looking at him, although I know I should not.

“I’m sorry.”

I shrug. “We know the risks when we join. I know the Imperium’s Templars think us barbaric.”

“Not barbaric…” But he looks uncomfortable now. “I can go, if you want. I just wanted to apologise.”

I look back at him. I should tell him to leave, stop this in its tracks, because Dorian Pavus will complicate my life to an incalculable extent.

But I can’t.

Dorian

I cannot bear Cullen’s face as, in my ignorance, I cause him yet another wound. I feel like a total shit. Again.

“I can go, if you want. I just wanted to apologise.”

“It didn’t go that well,” he points out, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand in a way that makes me want to hold him.

“No.” But he’s not asking me to leave. “Look, we were friends. I didn’t want to make things complicated - yes, I know -” I add as he gives a rueful huff. “Which is why I thought it better if we didn’t…Except we were already…”

“You know you’re not making any sense?”

“I know. Just…I fucked it all up, I know that.” I shrug sadly. “I wish I’d just let you kiss me.”

Cullen looks at me for a moment, brows drawing together. “Ask me again,” he says gruffly.

The gravel in his voice undoes me. He sounds exhausted, frustrated - and aroused.

“What is it you want, Cullen?” I’m slightly lightheaded.

“I want to kiss you.” No hesitation. Maker, those eyes.

“I would be honoured,” I say softly. “If you-”

But the rest of my words are lost, as he crosses the room in three strides - literally, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen - takes my head in his hands, and covers my mouth with his.

He kisses me like he’s been dreaming of it for weeks, with a passion and finesse that I would never have imagined. I take him by the waist and draw him closer, parting his lips with my tongue, melding my body against his.

Andraste’s tits, he tastes good. It’s a very, very good kiss.

“Upstairs,” he manages, hands in my hair. “My room.”

“Hm?” I can’t think of anything but his body against me; his tongue in my mouth.

“Unless you want my soldiers to watch.”

I pull back a little. “Well, I suppose…”

“Dorian.” His smile is intoxicating. His mouth seeks mine again, until he resurfaces with a groan. “Ladder, please.”

I follow him up, desperate to have him in my arms again.

“I must say, I’ve never climbed a ladder with an-” I break off, looking above us. “There’s a hole in your roof.”

“Is there?” He looks amused.

“Well, not so much a hole, more a…”

“Do you really want to talk about my-” He clears his throat as I raise an eyebrow. “My roof?”

“Not even slightly.” I kiss him again, and he gives a moan against my lips that liquifies my insides.

“Commander?” A voice downstairs.

Cullen freezes. “Fuck.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want them to watch?” I whisper, and he claps a hand over my mouth.

“What is it?”

“They are waiting in the War Room for you,” says the soldier below.

Cullen closes his eyes in frustration. “Tell them I’ll be there shortly.”

We hear the door close.

Cullen rests his forehead on mine with a groan. “I’m sorry.”

“Come to my room later,” I say. “Surely you can’t plan all night.”

“You’ve never been to War Council.”

“Perhaps I should.” I kiss the line of his jaw. “I imagine you’re awfully sexy when you’re ordering people about.”

He turns my head back to his and kisses me deeply. “I suppose I could resign. They’d be fine without me, I’m sure.”

“Wonderful idea.”

Cullen steps back with a sigh. “I have to go. I’ll see you later.”

I nod, and he hastens down the ladder. I sit heavily on the bed, knees weak.

It’s likely this is a terrible idea, and that we’ve started something we can’t finish. But all I can think is that I want to hold him again.

Chapter Text

Dorian

It is somewhat surprising, but also enormously gratifying, to learn that Cullen Rutherford is an extremely gifted lover.

That first time, he pins me up against the wall of my room, kissing me deeply as I simultaneously try to work out how to get his clothes off and keep my mouth on his.

I kiss the scar that runs into the right side of his lip, exploring the ridge with my tongue, hearing him take a sharp breath in as his fingers wind into my hair.

“Why are you wearing armour?” I lament.

“I always wear armour.” He’s breathless, but he steps back, removing his fur mantle and whatever all that draped fabric is. He starts unbuckling his chest plate, which admittedly is hampered by me kissing him. Eventually he lowers it to the floor, and starts on the pauldrons. I help remove his back plate, pressing my lips to the nape of his neck while I’m there. Cullen turns to face me and takes my head in his hands to kiss me - while the back plate falls to the stone floor with a loud clang.

“Your soldiers will wonder where these new dents in your armour came from,” I say. “They’ll think you’ve been training awfully hard.” I rub my thigh between his as I say this, and he sucks in a desperate breath.

“Stop talking.” He’s breathless. “Just help me…please.”

I take one of his arms and start to work on the straps of the vambrace. It comes off and hits the floor with a clatter. The other soon follows, and I celebrate by taking his fingers into my mouth, one by one.

He gasps my name, eyes unfocused. Somehow we remove all the nonsense he wears under his armour, and at last he stands before me, gloriously naked.

“Observe,” I say, pulling off my shirt, dropping my trousers, and stepping out of them. “You see how easy it could be if-”

He silences me with a deep, slow kiss, walking me backwards to my large, luxurious bed. We fall onto it, and I explore his body with my lips and hands - he’s covered in scars, some small, others quite a bit larger. I find myself kissing them - his breath hitching every time my lips make contact with his warm skin.

“Come here.” His hand is in my hair.

I end up astride him, looking down into hazel eyes shot through with dark gold. He lifts his chin to meet my kiss, and for the first time looks a little uncertain.

“Dorian, I’ve never…”

The rest of it is abandoned as I kiss him. “I think you’ll do just splendidly,” I say.

He smiles, and I’m lost. Or possibly found. Either way, I want this more desperately than I’ve wanted anything in a long, long time.

I may be in trouble.

Chapter Text

Cullen

“Did that man touch your arse?”

We are in Dorian’s bed, in Skyhold, after the most eventful ball I have ever been to.

“Try not to sound so delighted,” I tell him.

“You were in high demand - each time I passed by there was quite the gaggle of admirers vying for your attention.”

“You did pass by quite often,” I say mildly. “Never trying to help, I noticed.”

“Didn’t want to interfere. And you did look delicious in your finery. I feel terribly lucky.”

“You won’t when Josephine marries me off to a noble Orlesian lady to cement relations with the Inquisition.”

“I’ll come and visit you.”

I laugh. “You’re too kind.”

“Naturally.” He kisses me, and we lie for a while, his head on my shoulder.

“Dorian?”

He looks up. “Mm?”

I take a breath, because I’ve only spoken about this with one other person. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About the lyrium.”

His brows draw together - and he rolls on to his side to look into my face. “I spoke without thinking, you know-”

“But you were right. It ruins us all in the end. And I…” I pause. “Assuming there will be a future after this…I’d like to see if I can stop.”

I am careful not to make it sound too significant. Because the truth is, I’ve been thinking about what’s next for us. Which is foolish, because - even if we live past destroying Corypheus - our lives are as far apart as geography and lifestyle can make them.

But still, each time I imagine a future without lyrium, I realise I am imagining a future with him. I want to be better, for him. And if there’s a chance, I don’t want to lose it when decades of lyrium use consumes my mind. I have seen it in others, in ways I will never forget.

Dorian nods. “Then I’m with you.”

“I spoke to Cassandra, and she’ll help. I don’t think it will be…pleasant.”

“I’ll help as well.”

I smile at him. “Thank you.”

“You’ll let me know when it’s time?”

I have no intention of doing so - of letting him see me as I have seen others in the past. And I cannot ask him to care for me through something like this. He’s not built for it. But I nod. I’ll tell him once the worst has passed.

Chapter Text

Dorian

“Dorian?”

I look up to see Inquisitor Lavellan standing before me.

“Lav, I told you, I’m not finished yet.” I brandish my book - a fairly steamy romance - at her. “You can have it as soon as I’m done.”

“It’s Cullen,” she says, and her tone is serious enough to make me sit up straighter.

She knows about us, of course. I told her - by which I mean she walked in on us kissing in his office. He really has no privacy, poor man.

“Is he all right?”

“He’s trying to stop using lyrium. He doesn’t look well but he says he doesn’t need help. I told him I was going to get you.”

I get up, giving her the book. “Thank you.”

“Dorian…” Those are her concerned eyebrows.

“Mm?”

“I don’t think it’s a very pleasant process.”

“I would imagine not.” I know what she’s saying, but I don’t have time to protest. “Thanks, Lav.”

When I get to Cullen’s office he’s at his desk, head in his hands.

“Can I be of assistance?” I say lightly.

He raises his head, forehead beaded with sweat. “Dorian?” I think he’s going to send me away - he can be prouder than Solas - but he reaches for my hand.

His whole body is shaking. I stand beside his chair and cradle his head and shoulders against me. He sighs into my waist.

“I’m sorry,” he says faintly. “It’s the lyrium. Well. Lack of.”

“I know.” I run my fingers through his hair. “I can probably ease it a little.”

“Resurrect me when it kills me?”

I laugh. “I’m good for things other than necromancy, I’ll have you know.”

His laugh is strangled.

“We need to get you to bed,” I say gently.

He shakes his head at the ladder. “I can’t…I tried, but…”

“Well, your bedroom leaks anyway.” It’s a lot better since I made him have the roof repaired, but still. “Mine?”

Again, he shakes his head. “Everyone will…talk.” He stands unsteadily. “I can do it. Help me?”

We go slowly, and I’m convinced that the rickety ladder will break under our simultaneous weight - but we get there at last, and he sits heavily on his bed, sweat running down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he says indistinctly, wiping his sleeve across his brow.

Usually I wouldn’t run the risk of soiling my outfit, but I sit beside him without giving it a second thought.

“I never thought I’d say this in exactly this context, but let’s get these clothes off.”

“No, I…” He catches my arm. “I won’t make you-”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say. “Come on.”

I help him out of everything but his undies - not a terribly alluring task, especially at present, but I’ll never be less than breathless at the sculpt of him.

He is, however, drenched, and shivering quite forlornly. I sweep a blanket off his bed and wrap it around him.

“There.”

“Thank you.” He gives me a thin smile. “I can manage from here.”

“Absolutely not,” I say firmly.

“Dorian.” His eyes are desperate. “Please, go. Please.”

I’m about to protest when I realise he’s going to be sick, and that my boots are in danger. There’s a bucket against the wall and I grab it, sliding it in front of him as he drops off the edge of the bed, on to his knees.

When he’s finished, he wipes his mouth on the blanket, then sits back on his haunches. There is a deep humiliation in his eyes.

“Why are you still…?”

“Come here.” I drop to my knees and gather him to me, even though this shirt is silk. He turns his face into my shoulder, and I push the bucket as far away as I can reach with one foot.

“How long has it been like this?”

“Most of the day. It’s getting worse.”

“Why didn’t you send for me?”

“You have enough to do,” he says. He disentangles himself and sits up. “And I didn’t want you…to…”

“Cullen?”

He’s very pale, eyes on my face but unfocused. I manoeuvre him so that he’s leaning against the bed. “Cullen?”

His eyes open, and he looks at me for a long moment, perplexed.

“It’s me,” I say, frowning. “Dorian.”

He blinks slowly. “Sorry. Lightheaded for a moment.”

“Let’s get you on the bed,” I say. But by the time we do he’s bathed in sweat again, shivering against me. He’s warm, I realise. Much more so than he should be. He curls into me, head in my lap, and I pull the blanket around him. I run my fingers through his hair, and he puts one hand up to grasp mine.

“I can’t do this,” he says gruffly. “I’ll ask Cassandra to give me back my lyrium kit. I can’t…”

“Of course you can. You can do anything,” I add. Not what I’d meant to say…but it’s true. “I’ll help,” I add, hoping to get us back on more practical terms.

He sits up, blinking at me. “Dorian, you know who I am. My past deeds, the mages…A broken Templar, in lyrium’s thrall - forever, it seems. What I am doing for the Inquisition cannot make up for…”

“Is that what you think?” I ask him.

He nods.

“How dreadful, then, to be the only one who can’t see you for what you are.”

He looks at me for a long moment. “Dorian?”

I roll my eyes. “I know, I’m sorry. I promise to stop being so-”

“I love you,” he says softly, with an urgency that drives the words through my velvet upholstered shell and into my heart.

I look back at him with wonder. “Do you?”

He nods.

“The Templar and the mage,” I say softly. “What an unlikely, though extremely attractive, pair.”

“Dorian.”

“Well,” I tell him. “I wouldn’t be prepared to get covered in bodily fluids for anyone else. At least, not these particular fluids.”

He breaks out in a grin, and it’s not even strange anymore that this is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

But he’s shaking again, hard enough to rattle his teeth.

“Water,” I say, pouring him a cup from the jug on his dresser. I make sure he drinks, then I guide him down on to the bed, and crawl up behind him, my chest to his back. I utter an incantation - I have a little healing magic - and I feel him relax against me.

I hook an arm around his waist, drawing him to me.

We sleep.

Chapter Text

Dorian

In the middle of the night he sits bolt upright, screaming.

My heart is pounding - I scramble to my knees and place my hands on his shoulders. His eyes are open, but he doesn’t seem to know I’m there.

“Cullen,” I say urgently. He quietens, but his eyes are wild. “It’s me,” I tell him.

His hands grasp my shirt. “Warden. You came for me.”

I smooth his hair off his forehead. “Of course I did.”

“Commander?” There are soldiers down in Cullen’s office, I realise - probably the screaming.

“We’re fine!” I call, with a confidence I don’t feel. “He’s just dreaming!”

I hear them discussing in whispers, then the door below closes.

Cullen is still holding on to me. “They left me here,” he says quietly. There are tears on his cheeks now. “They’re all dead.” His grip strengthens. “We need to kill the mages - help me, please.”

“Cullen.” A shiver goes up my spine. His mind is lost in the past, and I don’t want to see it. But I’m not turning away when he needs me.

“Abominations,” he almost hisses.

“Water,” I say firmly, getting the cup. He drinks deeply, and sits, looking breathless and disorientated.

“All right?” I ask. “Shall we-”

He looks at me as if he’s only just realised it’s me. “Dorian.”

“I’m here.”

“I told Hawke,” he says thickly. “I told him it was wrong. I couldn’t let her…I should never have let her…” There are tears streaming down his cheeks again. “I’m sorry.”

I pull him into my arms, because I know this one. “Listen to me,” I say softly. “You’re not there now. You’re with me. You made a stand, and it brought you here, to me. The Inquisition needs you.”

He nods, calming as I hold him to me. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

I decide to take that one in the spirit it was meant. “Lav? Thoroughly all round wonderful.”

He smiles, head against my chest. “You’re beautiful.”

I kiss the top of his head, and out of nowhere, I am so furious it brings tears to my eyes. This is how tight the Orlesian Chantry's hold is - their Templars held by chains of lyrium, knowing this awaits them if they leave, even though their minds will disintegrate eventually should they stay. No wonder he was so wary of trying to stop.

We sleep eventually, my arms wrapped around him. But I’m woken before dawn by the sound of his voice, talking earnestly to someone. I sit up, looking to see who is there, but his eyes are fixed on the empty space next to the bed.

“Cullen?”

He looks round, confusion on his face, as though he can’t quite place me.

“Who are you talking to?”

He frowns at me. “Can’t you see?” He turns back, and gives a grunt of surprise. “Where is she? How can I keep her safe when she won’t…” He rubs a hand over his face and blinks at me.

“Lie down,” I say gently. He doesn’t protest.

*

Lav comes to see us later that morning, and I meet her in Cullen’s office.

“How is he?”

I shrug. “Getting through it. I think it’s improving. It’s hard to say.”

She rests a hand on my arm. “And how are you?”

“I’m well.” But there are tears in my eyes, and she pulls me into a hug.

“Do you need help?”

I shake my head. “We’re fine. It’s just…hard to see.”

Above our heads, Cullen calls my name with an urgency that borders on panic.

“Go,” says the Inquisitor, squeezing my hand. “Let me know if there’s anything you need.”

I squeeze back, and head up the ladder.

He’s on his knees before the bucket - I’ve been exchanging them for clean ones with the soldiers outside. He’s breathing hard, drenched with sweat.

I sit with him, and he rests his head on my shoulder. “I think I might be dying,” he says hoarsely.

“Not on my watch,” I tell him. “And there’s no one else to watch, so I suppose you’re stuck.”

He tries to curl up in my lap, but I dissuade him, and we find ourselves in bed again, my arms around him as his whole body shakes. I whisper calming words into his neck, and stroke his hair.

In the depths of the night, the nightmares come again. I hold on. I will do nothing else.

Chapter Text

Dorian

When the lyrium finally releases him, he sleeps like he’ll never wake up, barely surfacing to drink water.

I sleep too; I don’t remember ever being so exhausted. But I remain vigilant.

“Dorian?”

I open my eyes. “Good morning, Commander.” It’s more like late afternoon.

He’s very pale, and his lips are cracked, but apart from that, he seems himself again. He sits up, and I follow. “How long has it been?”

I try to think. “About three days.”

“What?” He examines my tousled hair, my shirt soiled by all sorts of things, my no doubt bloodshot eyes. “Have you been here the whole time?”

I shrug. “Skyhold is very dull - there’s not much else to do.”

“Dorian…”

“You’d do the same for me,” I tell him firmly. “Now, water, and then back to sleep.”

Cullen

Next time I wake it’s to a pounding headache, and Dorian’s warm weight at my back.

Three days. Am I remembering that correctly?

I don’t remember much.

But…I think I vomited in front of him. I raise my head and look at the bucket in the corner. Maker help me, I vomited in front of him. Hopefully not more than once.

I sit up slowly. He’s deeply asleep, slightly snoring, not that he would own to it.

I know it’s late, and I should be at my desk. But my body feels heavy, and my stomach still roils. I sit on the edge of the bed and put my head in my hands for a moment, then stand and go to the jug and basin. I clean my teeth and wash my face, and I’m wringing out the cloth when Dorian slides his arms around my waist and kisses my shoulder.

“How’re you feeling?”

I shrug. “I’ll live.”

“Can I help?” Without waiting for an answer, he takes the cloth from me and dips it in the water, washing under one arm and sweeping across my chest to the other. My breath catches as he draws the cold fabric over my nipple.

“Dorian…”

“Am I doing it right?” He slides over to the other nipple. “I’ve never washed anyone before. Generally I don’t even have to wash myself. Why don’t you have a mirror, Commander? I’d like to watch you watching me wash you.”

I lean my head back against him. “Are you always this cheerful in the morning?”

He smiles. “I suppose you’ll have to wake up with me more often to find out.”

He turns me around, and slides his fingers along my jaw and into my hair. “Are you up to a kiss?”

“One way to find out.”

He smiles that sexy, lopsided smile, and draws me to him by the waist. His kiss is almost as warm as his body, and with a moan I sway against him. But then I realise I can’t right myself, and he catches me as I stumble.

“I’ll take that as a no. Back into bed.”

“Sorry,” I manage, letting him lower me back onto the mattress.”

“You need to eat something,” he says decisively, then frowns. “How do I get food?”

“The kitchens?” He looks at me blankly, and I smother a smile. “Ask one of the soldiers outside.”

“Right.” He gives me a kiss on the forehead and heads down the ladder.

I like this side to him, I think. It makes me feel…safe. Which is strange, because I never considered myself unsafe. Current enemies excepted.

I settle back against my pillow and close my eyes while I wait. I’m just drifting off to sleep when a memory hits me, and my eyes snap open.

I told him I love him.

Which is not so much the part that concerns me, because I do. Just that…I don’t think he said it back.

Chapter Text

Dorian

He is back to being Commander Cullen again, walking the battlements, shoulders broad in his fur mantle. Watching his troops drill with a steely concentration. Disappearing into the War Room daily.

There is no time for us.

I go out with Lav to fight, in sandy wastes and ankle rotting bogs, and everything in between. We sit round the campfire at night with the others, and often Scout Harding, and I try not to miss him. Because I cannot be so attached as all that, can I? After so little time?

But when at last we return to Skyhold he is there, his eyes searching until he meets mine with a smile. He shares my bed that night, and I tell him about killing dragons.

I’m in grave danger of becoming used to this.

Cullen

The night he returns, I cannot sleep, even with him slumbering beside me.

I don’t fear battle, or death. There is no horror I have not seen, as a Templar or since. But there is something particularly awful about watching him go into the field with the Inquisitor. I know he can more than manage, whatever comes. Even dragons. I wish they wouldn’t hunt dragons; it’s not as if they need to. And yet, I cannot rest properly while he is out there.

I love him. But I haven’t said it again. I wonder how foolish I should feel having said it the first time. Because he never said it back.

“Are you watching me sleep, Commander?”

“Of course not.” I turn away too late.

He smiles, drawing closer, kissing my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Just restless.”

He sits up. “Shall we go for a walk?”

We perambulate along the battlements as we used to, with a sky full of stars above us. The mountains are stark white in the darkness, and there is no sound except the wind and the occasional gust of laughter drifting up from the Herald’s Rest.

I take a breath of mountain air, and feel myself relax as he leans into me.

“It’s snowing,” he says softly, and suddenly it is. He turns me to him and kisses me, and there are snowflakes on his eyelashes when he draws away.

Then I realise the snow is only falling on and around us, with the rest of the night as clear as it was.

I look at Dorian, and he raises his eyebrows mischievously. “Romantic,” he whispers.

“You’re ridiculous,” I tell him, and he grins.

We lean on the battlements, and he rests his head on my shoulder.

After a while, I turn to him and clear my throat, taking my chance. “Dorian, I think while I was unwell I might have…”

“Told me you love me?” His smile is fond.

I blink. “How did you know I was going to say that?”

“Because you’re making your embarrassed sex face.”

“No I’m not…Anyway,” I say, before I start blushing. “It wasn’t…I didn’t say it because I was…” Out of my mind? “Indisposed.”

“I know.”

“Good,” I say softly, “And I don’t expect you to-”

“I love you,” he says softly. “Quite desperately, I’m afraid. I just wanted you to remember it the first time I said it.”

I gaze at him, everything I was going to say leaving my head. “Well…what are we going to do now?”

He smiles. “We should probably kill Corypheus, and go from there.”

Chapter Text

Dorian

The night that Solas breaks her heart, I sit with Lav in her room, long into the night, her tears soaking into my shirt. I have never seen her this way, my beloved friend who leads the Inquisition with a steel spine and wry smile. Who can fight anyone, can floor anything with a swipe of her huge axe. Even dragons.

I hold her until she stops weeping. I offer to kill him, but she declines.

Still, it takes a lot not to stop by his tower and punch him in the face on my way back.

Cullen is waiting in my bed like a human warming pan. I slide in beside him and give him a lingering kiss.

“Is the Inquisitor all right?”

I sigh. “Solas broke up with her.”

He gives a frustrated grunt. “I knew he’d break her heart.”

“That’s just because you fancy her.”

He hits me with a cushion, the velvet one I bought him to make his room less depressing. I narrow my eyes at it, but decide to address its relocation later.

I sigh, because I can’t stop feeling her helpless sobs against my chest. “It doesn’t make sense,” I say.

“Nothing about Solas makes sense.”

“True. He once told me he couldn’t hear me over my outfit.”

Cullen nods. “So, some sense, then.”

I scowl at him.

“You don’t think there’s a chance he’ll change his mind?”

I shake my head. “I fear his mind is made up.”

Cullen sighs. “Apart from anything, his timing is horrendous. I need her focused.”

“Spoken like a true commander.”

“I would like us to get out of this alive,” he tells me, brow furrowed. “Especially you.”

“And then we’ll get a charming little apartment in Miranthous and live happily ever after.” I mean it ironically, but it comes out oddly sincere.

I see that same wistful warmth in his eyes as he looks at me. “First we kill Corypheus. Then we plan,” he reminds me.

I nod.

“And,” he adds softly, almost shyly, “whether we live through this or not, it was worth it all to be with you.”

This is uncharacteristically emotional for him, and I put out a hand to caress his cheek.

“I love you.” I kiss him. “And I’d prefer the first option, if it’s all the same to you.”

We lie together, and I try not to think of Lav, crying herself to sleep.

Chapter Text

Cullen

At last, it is over. Corypheus is vanquished. Dorian comes back to me whole, and the Inquisitor, of course. Just in time to enjoy her victory party.

“Tiny cake?”

I look round to find my love beside me. He hands me a bite sized sponge confection.

“Why’s it so small?”

He shrugs. “That’s the way she likes them, it seems. Explains why she liked-”

“Don’t!”

“- Solas so much.”

I shake my head at the wicked look in his eye. “Maker’s breath, Dorian.”

Dorian looks around the room, and raises his eyebrows at me. “Congratulations. You made this happen, Commander.”

I smile. “We did.”

But I cannot concentrate on proceedings with what I have weighing on my mind. I know I should join the others at the party; I should worry about this tomorrow. Yet I cannot help but ask.

“I suppose you’ll be going back to Tevinter, now?” I give him a tight smile.

He looks at me for a moment, grey-brown eyes troubled. I’m not sure what I’ll do without this face, if I’m honest.

“Is that your way of telling me I’m surplus to requirements?”

“What? Of course not!” I sigh. “But I need to be here, Dorian. The Inquisitor is determined that we still have work to do, and I agree.”

He smiles. “Then I suppose I could stick around. Just for a while.”

“Really?” I feel lighter, suddenly. “I don’t want to-”

“They won’t even notice I’m gone. Besides, I can continue honing my blood magic anywhere, I don’t need to be-”

I stop his nonsense with a kiss, and he pulls me to him.

“But I do want to go back at some point,” he says slowly. “There’s work to do there. It might be that some of our views are…outdated, and I’d like to share what I’ve seen here. How people think about slavery, for example. Like Iron Bull, and you.”

I blink. “Really?”

He gives a self deprecating shrug. “I suppose I spent so long avoiding my family, and evading a nice marriage to a nice girl and, well, being extremely drunk, that I never thought about…” He pauses. “Well. Other people.”

I take his hand. “I’m proud of you.”

His face softens. It occurs to me that this is not something he has often been told.

“Thank you, love.”

I see his relief that I have not claimed victory at this development; that I have not expressed delight at the demise of his outdated beliefs. I sense the guilt in him, and the trepidation of what is to come if he goes back to Tevinter and tries to make this change. He has the influence to make it, after all, but it will mean admitting he was wrong.

But if I have learned anything about Dorian Pavus it is that, underneath the finely groomed swagger, he is one of the best men I have ever known. And that he will use every bit of clout he can from his family name to do good.

“If anyone can do it, you can. And if I can help, I will.”

He smiles. “I’m not sure anyone has ever believed in me the way you do. Except Lav.”

I look into his beautiful face. “It’s difficult not to.”

He takes my face in both hands and kisses me.

“We need wine,” he says. “And more tiny cakes. And to locate someone musical so we can dance.”

“I don’t dance,” I remind him.

“That’s why we’re starting with the wine.” He holds out a hand to me - he knows I will never leave his empty. “Come on.”

Chapter Text

Cullen - Two Years Later

If it takes going back to the Winter Palace to see my love again, that is what I will do.

We ride into the city for the Exalted Council - the Inquisitor, Josephine and I. My stiff dress uniform feels heavier and more uncomfortable than the armour I wear everyday, and it is not helped by the blazing sun on the elegant marble terraces.

I see Dorian below me, sweeping the Inquisitor into his arms. I met up with him last night, our reunion as fiery as they always are. As official Tevinter Ambassador to the Inquisition, he visits Skyhold frequently, but it is never enough. And now he is to be a Magister, his work will keep him in the north. He has been loath to tell Lavellan this, I know - that he will no longer be with the Inquisition.

I have not fully accepted it myself. I will always be proud, of course, of his commitment to reforming Tevinter society. Now he will have even more political clout. But I will carry the ache of missing him each day we are apart.

I stick a finger in my collar in a vain attempt to get some air. I loathe these affairs - and any minute now someone is going to appear to compliment my hair, or my eyes, or ask me if I’m married.

I go for a walk before anyone notices me.

*

“What is that?”

Dorian is standing above me, frowning down at me and the huge Mabari I kneel beside.

“Hm?” I look up at him, my hand resting on top of the huge dog’s head. “You told me I should make some friends.”

Dorian’s face is a study in horror. “Is it a bogfisher?”

That makes me laugh, despite myself. “You know perfectly well he’s a dog.” I scratch the Mabari under his chin, and his eyes close in pleasure. “He reminds me of you.”

“You take that back!”

“I might name him Dorian…”

“Cullen Rutherford-Pavus, if you-” He freezes as the dog approaches him, sniffing around his feet. “What’s happening?”

I grin.

“Did you get married?” I turn to find the Inquisitor staring at us.

“No,” I tell her, and she is clearly trying not to smile at the exasperation in the word.

“Do you imagine you would have been left off the guest list, Lav?” Dorian says, between scowling at the Mabari as though he can vanquish it with his stare.

I shoot the Inquisitor a look of appeal.

“What a lovely dog,” she says immediately.

Dorian frowns at her, still trying to sidestep the dog’s attentions. “Whose side are you on? Do you want this thing climbing into your bed at Skyhold?

“I believe it would be in the Commander’s bed,” she points out. “Perhaps as a replacement for-”

“Don’t finish that thought,” he warns her.

“Some might say that it would be an improvement on previous occ-”

“Inquisitor Lavellan, I am hurt,” he professes, throwing up a hand to his chest.

I watch this with amusement, as does the dog.

“Besides,” says the Inquisitor, “I understand he can dodge fireballs.”

Dorian clearly doesn’t know what to do with that.

“You’re both ridiculous,” he says tartly. “And so is your bogfisher. I hope it keeps you warm at night, Commander, for I shall certainly not be in your bed when it is present.”

I reach out and capture his hand before he can leave, getting to my feet. “I’ll send him to stay with Harding when you’re at Skyhold. You’ll have me all to yourself.”

I see the heat in his gaze as I approach him - our time together last night was not nearly enough to make up for almost two months apart.

“You’ll have to burn your sheets after it’s slept in them,” he says sulkily. “And your bed.”

“Done.”

“Very well, then. And I get to name it.”

“Absolutely not.”

Dorian sighs theatrically. “Can you at least stop it from looking at me?”

“I don’t…think so.”

“I’ll take him for a walk,” Lav tells us. “I saw some expensive dog treats somewhere.”

As she leaves, I draw Dorian into the shade of a rose arbour and kiss him so thoroughly that he gives a small moan of pleasure against my mouth.

“I love you,” I tell him.

He pulls me back into another kiss. “You’re awfully attractive in this dress uniform, you know, Commander. We may find you a wife, yet.”

“Why do you think I’m hiding in the gardens?”

He smiles against my lips. “But don’t think that flaunting your devastating beauty will make me forget about that thing.”

“You won’t even know he’s there, I promise.”

“Good, because I was planning to come to Skyhold after the council.” He sighs, smile fading. “Because after this, I don’t know when I’ll next be there.”

“If the Exalted Council forces the Inquisition to disband then none of us will be there.” I say. “We’ll all have to find something new.”

I’m not ready for that. I’m not ready to leave this life, where I have found such friends and such purpose, behind.

“I felt I was making up for everything,” I say. “The things I did in the past can’t be undone but…the Inquisition is my home.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he says. “But I’m not ready to leave either. But there is work to do. And you know that you have a home with me in Tevinter, whenever you’re ready.”

“I know.”

“Let’s just get through the summit,” he says, pulling me close. “Find out the verdict, hope Cassandra’s influence is enough, and then, with luck, we can all go back to Skyhold for walks, chess, and a little romantic snow.”

He gives me a kiss on the forehead to complete his instructions, and I smile. Because sometimes I wonder why the Maker sent me this man, after everything.

I don’t remember much about those days when the lyrium was purged from my body, but I do have one blurry memory. In my mind I was seeing it all again, Knight-Commander Meredith, the horror of what we did. All of it. And I remember Dorian’s face breaking through the mists, close to mine.

You’re not there now. You’re with me. You made a stand, and it brought you here, to me.

I don’t know, really, why I ever doubted he loved me after that.

“Summit, verdict, back to a nice quiet life,” I say, and he nods.

“Good.” Then he frowns, head cocked. “Do you hear…screaming?”

I do.

We both look round at the sound of footsteps running toward us, and the Inquisitor appears. Her dress uniform is gone, replaced by her gold armour, and she has her huge great axe in her hands. She skids to a halt before us, out of breath.

“Trouble,” she manages.

Dorian looks from her, to me, and back, relief stark on his face. “Oh, thank the Maker. Where’s my staff?”

He finds it leaning against a bush, snatches it up, and turns to me. “Coming?”

I wrench open the constricting neck of my formal attire, and unsheathe my sword.

“Right behind you.”