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plazmafields · 3 years

Text

Cullrian Mulan AU

Word Count: 27,573

Summery: After escaping the Venatori and his family in Tevinter, Dorian finds refuge with a kindly older woman on a farm in Ferelden. When the Inquisition comes knocking looking for volunteers, Dorian can't help but overhear that they are looking to defeat the Venatori once and for all. He could join, but he can't have them thinking he might be a Venatori himself, especially not the Commander.

Forward: Holy jesus mercy, this literally took me years to get to. Between wanting to build out the universe to make it all fit together, then getting some serious writer's block (because nothing I love can come easy), then actually writing the damn thing! This has been a journey, and I really hope you all enjoy. I know it's a pain to read long fics on tumblr, so just let me know if you'd prefer it on AO3 or something. All my love, please enjoy my longest fic ever!!

__________

Just as the sun began to rise over the hills surrounding the farm, songbirds began to chirp, stirring Dorian from his sleep. Though he hated the insistent noise, he had to admit it was a softer wakeup call than Halward pushing ten tired slaves into his room to make him “presentable” before another noble’s daughter arrived. When Dorian had rejected the woman betrothed to him since birth, his mother offered that perhaps they should find an equally suitable candidate that Dorian could see himself getting along with. Poor mother, just trying to help; but she would never understand the true reason for Dorian’s rejection. Or perhaps they knew, and just couldn’t bear to face it as truth.

It took Dorian a moment to fully wake before he was hurriedly getting dressed and cleaned up, hoping to make it downstairs in time to make breakfast. As he descended the stairs, however, the scent of eggs and baking bread filled his nose. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. While it smelled wonderful, he still felt a bit guilty for making his kind host cook for them both.

At the bottom of the stairs, he smiled and gently bowed his head at the middle aged woman at the stove. “Good morning, Miss Ella,” he said as he entered the kitchen just off the stairwell.

“Good morning, dear. How do you like your eggs?” The woman turned to greet him with two plates of food in hand, each set prepared differently.

Dorian didn’t look at the meal before responding, “I’ll take whichever you don’t prefer.”

The older woman frowned, distinctly upset with the answer. “Ser Dorian, I insist you choose. You’re my guest, after all. I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

The two stood both with expectant stares for a short while until Dorian sighed, taking one of the plates. “And I want to make sure I’m as nonintrusive as possible.” He turned quickly, taking a seat at the quaint kitchen table.

The woman smiled gently as she joined him. “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: you are not intruding. I took you in, and that’s the end of it. You should feel as though we share this house, just as we share this food and the land where it grows.”

Dorian couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle as he began to eat. “Thank you, Miss Ella. You’ve been far too kind to an undeserving stranger.”

Miss Ella scoffed as she swatted at Dorian’s arm with her handkerchief, “Oh, don’t say such nonsense! Everyone is deserving of kindness, especially when they show such courtesy in return.”

Dorian said a quiet thank you as he continued to eat, trying to avoid another kind hearted argument with the woman. They stayed silent for a long moment until the woman shook her head and laughed.

“The only doubt I have about you is where you’re from. Not that I mind your secrecy; I understand the need. I only wish I knew so I could know who to thank for your wonderful manners.” She teased, wholeheartedly.

Dorian smiled despite the remembrance of home life, and answered gently, “I hardly think my parents had much to do with my manners. They’re not the kindest of people, unless they’re trying to impress someone.” His smile slipped slightly, enough for Miss Ella to notice.

“I’m sorry, dear,” she frowned and reached across the table, patting the back of Dorian’s hand, “I didn’t mean to strike a nerve. I wasn’t meaning to imply life was perfect, only that you seem acclimated to the finery in life. However, I know that comes with its own stresses and consequences.”

“You’re certainly right about that,” Dorian sighed, finishing the food on his plate.

As he stood, he took Miss Ella's empty plate as well, taking the dishes and cutlery to the wash basin to clean. As Dorian began scrubbing away, there came a rather harsh knock at the door. The two glanced curiously at one another before Miss Ella went to answer.

Dorian slowly set the dishes in the water, listening closely to who was at the door, waiting to see if it was a voice he recognized, come to take him back to Tevinter.

Instead, he heard a voice clearly announce: “Hello, serah, we’re here on behalf of the Inquisition. We’re requesting that every household contribute at least one able bodied person, or sign for a draft, if necessary.”

“Oh yes, the Inquisition. You’re the ones who patched up the sky, yes? While I would love to be of service, I’m afraid I am unable to enlist—”

“How old are you, ma’am?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Dorian heard the soldier clear his throat. “I asked your age, ma’am.”

Miss Ella, seemingly a bit taken aback by the direct nature of the question, gingerly answered, “Well, I’ll be turning fifty at the end of next month…”

The sound of confirmation and flipping paper piqued Dorian’s curiosity, as he slowly peeked into the foyer to watch the interaction.

The soldiers all nodded, one pulling out a form. “You’re within the age range to sign for the draft. If you would please—”

“I’m sorry?” Miss Ella stared in awe at the men before her. “I am the sole owner of this farm; all the land you see within several acres is my land! I cannot simply leave my property; who would be here to care for the animals? I would be more than willing to donate crops to the cause, but I am not going to leave my animals and harvest to suffer.”

Dorian watched on, ready to stand up for his gracious host, when the soldier tucked the form back into his satchel. “Ma’am, I understand your concerns, but I’m afraid, as valid as they may be, they cannot stand in the way of the fact that we need soldiers. As the Venatori threat strengthens—”

“I would be willing to volunteer,” Dorian stepped into view of the doorway, “on behalf of the household.”

Miss Ella turned with surprise, giving Dorian a worried look. He simply smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Very good, Ser. And thank you.” The soldier pulled out a list of volunteers’ names and began to assign Dorian an ID. “What is your relation to this woman?”

“My son.” Miss Ella spoke up, “Dorian Rider.”

Dorian gave a gentle, thankful look, trying not to make it too obvious to the soldiers.

“I assume, then, you were born in Ferelden?” The soldier studied Dorian’s dark complexion suspiciously.

“Orlais,” Dorian lied, “but I’ve lived here much of my life…”

The soldier seemed to find that more believable as he nodded, noting the answer on the form.

“And what is your role in the household? Just a simple description of what you do around the house will suffice.” The soldier asked, poised to write.

“I help maintain the farm.”

The soldier nodded, “Very good. And do you have any experience with fighting or combat?”

“Spell—” Dorian quickly closed his mouth, remembering mages were not supposed to live or practice magic outside of the Circles in Ferelden. He worriedly glanced at Miss Ella, before he noticed the soldier give him a friendly grin.

“Don’t worry,” The soldier said, lowering his writing board, “the Inquisition is not here to discriminate. We take anyone willing to risk their lives for the cause.” His eyes went soft, as he seemed to sympathize with Dorian. “I was a thief in Denerim before I joined. I’m not one to judge. Thank you for volunteering, Ser. Serah.”

The soldiers each gave a respectful bow before starting off to the next house. The one with the writing board called over his shoulder, “We’ll knock again when we’re ready to head off to Skyhold. Please be ready. You need only to bring your personal effects; we will have weapons and armor for you there.”

Miss Ella quickly closed the door and grabbed Dorian by the shoulders. “What are you doing? I thought you were hiding out! This is a sure way to bring attention to yourself, boy!”

Though she shook him lightly, she was not angry as Dorian looked in her eyes. The only thing he saw there was fear and worry. For him; for his safety.

Dorian took her hands in his and smiled reassuringly, “I’ll be ok. I can handle myself in a fight. Besides, what was I supposed to do, let them take you away from your livelihood? That hardly seems right.”

Miss Ella continued to look him in the eye for a time, all the while tears starting to well, before they eventually fell and she wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight hug. “Thank you so much, dear. I just hope they keep you safe from whatever you were running from. Maybe one day you’ll be free of fear, and you can tell me everything.”

__________

Finally at Skyhold, the entire cart full of recruits gazed upon the glory of their new home for the foreseeable future, everyone taken aback by the size of the castle. Once through the gates, Dorian found himself being shuffled through a group of anxious troops, somehow ending up near the front of the crowd. Just as he began to wonder what all the fuss was about, the entire mass fell silent, standing mostly at attention.

A pale skinned man with thick blond hair strode up to the group of recruits, his presence alone demanding full attention. As he scanned the crowd, seemingly impressed with the number of volunteers, he momentarily locked eyes with Dorian.

The mage immediately froze, holding his breath as the blond’s eyes studied him. It seemed like minutes before their eyes met again, the blond saying kindly, “Welcome to the Inquisition.”

Dorian didn’t realize the blond was addressing the whole group, and not just him, until the entire mass said in unison, “Ser, yes, Ser.”

Dorian jumped at the roar, averting his gaze to his feet. The rest of the blond’s speech went by as a mumble, Dorian only picking out a few things. “I am your commander,” “thank you for your service,” “we are all fighting for the same cause,” etcetera.

“Those of you who are weary from the journey may feel free to retire to the barracks and claim a bunk. Make certain your items are secure and accounted for. As for those anxious to begin your service, please follow my associate Seeker Cassandra; she will give a brief tour of the grounds.” The blond gestured to a broad and powerful woman, who already appeared annoyed. “As she will be assisting me in your training, I expect you all to treat her with the same respect and authoritative recognition as you would me.”

The blond Commander took a final look over the troops before dismissing them to follow Cassandra or head to the beds. But just as Dorian followed after the retiring group, he heard a gentle summons.

“You there, mage.”

Dorian turned to see the Commander watching him with a careful eye. “Dorian, Ser.” He answered.

“Ser Dorian,” The Commander let the name roll on his tongue for a moment before continuing, causing Dorian’s breath to hitch in his throat. “I understand you’re an apostate.”

Dorian let out his held breath in a deep sigh, nearly rolling his eyes. “Yes, I am. Ser. I don’t suppose you’re going to turn me in to your recent allies?” He crossed his arms and lifted a brow, challenging the blond standing several feet from him.

The Commander narrowed his eyes, “I certainly wasn’t planning on it.” He slowly closed the distance between the two of them in several long strides, saying in a low tone, “Unless you’re going to have a problem with my authority, Ser Dorian.”

With the blond so close, Dorian felt his heart speed up. Something about his presence made Dorian feel held in place. Not as if he was trapped, simply that he couldn’t make himself step away.

Dorian scanned his eyes over the Commander’s form, noticing the Chantry insignia on his bracers. Ah, Dorian thought, he plans on taking care of me himself.

“Not unless you’re going to play those little Templar tricks to dispel my magic when I’m simply trying to warm my tea.” Dorian could have sworn he saw the corner of the Commander’s lips curl up at his accurate observation.

“That would just be rude. No, I wanted to inform you that, despite my past, I have very little patience for discrimination.” The Commander's eyes scanned over Dorian's body once more, “If anyone says anything, does anything, or even looks at you in a way that makes you suspect ill intent, do let me know. They’ll be dealt with discreetly.”

Dorian wasn’t sure how to feel; between the Commander’s word choice and his eyes wondering Dorian’s physique, he felt maybe the blond knew his preferences just by looking at him. Did he have to be more worried about that than being an apostate? Though Dorian knew little about the south, he knew even less about their feelings on…sexual endeavors. More specifically, who you ventured those endeavors with.

Dorian hadn’t realized how long he’d been staring at the Commander without answering until the blond tilted his brow up. “That is an order, Ser Dorian.”

He was shaken from his trance by the mention of his name in a soothingly gentle voice; surprising for a man in his militant position. “Yes, Ser.” Dorian responded quickly, eager to have the Commander’s caressing gaze off him.

The blond smiled, seemingly content with the response. “Good. And don’t be afraid to approach me.” He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice even more to an impossibly comforting near-purr, “I don’t bite.” He grinned reassuringly.

Perhaps I’d rather you did, Dorian thought, admiring the Commander’s gait as he strode off, heading for his office.

In the barracks Dorian chose a bed, near to the wall to prop his staff and hang his pack, filled only with a few herbs for mixing potions and a book or two.

Though his sleep was fitful, he woke more or less prepared for training the next morning, those blasted birds even louder in the mountains than Miss Ella's valley farmland. Their loud singing mixed with the shuffle of new troops preparing for training woke Dorian far earlier than he would have liked. But he hurried along, seeing he was one of the last troops to rise, and made it to the training grounds just as the sun rose above the horizon.

He had eyes on him the moment he walked onto the grounds, scared young men and women glaring at him and eyeing the ornament on the end of his staff, watching cautiously as magic flowed through the crystal gem, all originating from Dorian’s fingertips. All the looks, the suspicion, made him feel as though he was not exactly blending in like he had hoped. He scanned his fellow soldiers, finding most were pale. Those with dark skin like his seemed no less acclimated to his presence. Their undertones were all cold blues and greys, making Dorian’s red-brown skin stand out in an unnatural, if stunning, manner against the natives.

As Dorian felt more and more uncomfortable in his own skin for the first time in years, a voice echoed off the fortress walls from behind him.

“You’re late.” Dorian turned to find the Commander stalking toward him, free of his armor and only covered by simple leather trousers. His chest was dusted in scars of all sizes; some reaching from collar bone to hip, one leading Dorian’s eye down a mischievous path to the Commander’s laces.

“Did the bells not wake you? Perhaps I should make that your responsibility; to wake and ring the bells for everyone else to hear? Since they seem not to faze you.”

Dorian scoffed, “I suppose you would like all your men to be late as well, then? If I were in charge of the bells, we’d all be waking half past tea.”

The Commander seemed equally confused and annoyed with Dorian’s flippant nature, seemingly having no respect, no regard for his position.

As he closed the distance in a quick stride, Dorian simply crossing his arms and sighing, almost bored by the interaction, he said lowly, “Fall in line before I make an example out of you.”

Dorian, sifting his words through his head, began carefully evaluating his next move. While he didn’t enjoy being told what to do, and very much enjoyed testing people’s patience, he decided against saying anything at all, taking several steps back and lining up with the other troops.

The Commander relaxed his shoulders, turning slowly to take his place in front of the herd. As he glanced back to face his troops again, and saw Dorian at the front line of their formations, he quickly changed his mind.

“Alright Ser Dorian, since you seem to enjoy being the center of attention, perhaps you would like to help me demonstrate some defensive maneuvers.”

Dorian tensed. While he was proud of his magical knowledge and ability, he knew things the average Ferelden mage most certainly would not. He had to be careful of what spells he used, as not to let on too much or attract attention.

But he relaxed as he saw the Commander reach for an extra sword and shield, gesturing for Dorian to step forward. He stabbed his staff into the ground and sauntered up to take the weapons. As he did, the Commander asked quietly, “You do know which end to hold it by, don’t you?”

Before Dorian could think, he grinned and responded in a flirtatious tone, “I’ve had plenty of experience handling swords, Commander.”

The Commander stared at him blankly as a slight rosy color filled his cheeks, then cleared his throat as he handed the sword off to Dorian.

“How much experience do you have with shield work?” The Commander asked, getting into a proper fighting stance.

Dorian mimicked his movements, obviously less confident with a sword and shield. “Certainly less than with staff blades and staff defense,” he muttered.

The Commander nodded once. “Let us spar—so that I can evaluate what you know—then, we’ll try it again with your staff. All I want you to do is defend.” The troops drew closer, forming a circle like a fighting ring around the two. “Don’t let me into your personal space.”

Dorian wanted to make a suggestive remark about his personal space, but the time was lost as the blond charged at him with speed and an unfair amount of force. Dorian dodged and defended as best he could with what little knowledge he had while the Commander showed no mercy, but ultimately, in only a matter of seconds, the blond had managed to disarm him and enter his space.

They were nearly chest to chest, Dorian breathing somewhat heavily while the Commander hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Your movements are arrogant,” he announced, loudly for the rest of the troops to hear, “despite having no idea what you are doing, clearly. While half of defense is confidence, not showing your enemy weakness, it is not the whole fight.”

He stepped away from Dorian, acquiring his stance once more. “Again,” the Commander proclaimed, “with your staff this time.”

Dorian smirked as he pulled his staff blade out of the soil, poising himself for a good fight. He knew this was about physical defense, no magic involved, but by the Maker if he wouldn’t fight back.

The Commander once again charged at him, but this time Dorian knew what to do. He twirled his staff, directing the sword’s momentum away and back to the Commander, using his own power against him. Aside from a huff of disapproval, the blond went unfazed, using the off-railed momentum to carry his shield arm forward, bashing Dorian’s staff in an attempt to throw him off balance. But Dorian stabbed his staff blade into the ground, stopping the blond’s shield dead in its tracks. The Commander pressed forward, waiting for Dorian to inevitably lift his staff and take the force.

Rather than lift his staff, Dorian used it as leverage to swing his body around and kick the unsuspecting Commander’s sword from his hand. Unfortunately for Dorian, his opponent was ambidextrous, catching the sword in his left hand and switching the shield to his right. At this point, the Commander was visibly annoyed, putting more force into his blows, testing the mage’s strength. Dorian held his position for as long as he could, motivated by the troops’ shocked mumbling to one another.

Finally, after several minutes, the Commander’s sword came down on the blade of Dorian’s staff, throwing off the momentum and leaving Dorian open for the Commander to once again step into his space.

After this round, however, they were both panting, a sheen of sweat lightly reflecting on the blond’s chest. Dorian kept his eyes up, staring intently into the Commander’s.

“Much better,” He said flatly. “You use your staff as an extension of yourself. You know not only the magical maneuvers, but the physical ones as well. You still need to work on paying more attention to your opponent, and less to your own actions. They should come as second nature, as I’m sure your magic does.” The Commander backed away once again, relaxing his grip on his weapons. “Well done, overall. I’ve worked with and against many mages and, routinely, close combat was their weakness.” He scanned Dorian from head to toe, shrugging slightly. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m impressed, but…” extending his hand out to Dorian, “I respect your ability.”

A nearly collective gasp came from the audience of troops around them, all surprised at Dorian’s redemption. From problem recruit, to Commander-respected mage. Perhaps Dorian had nothing to worry about after all.

He took the blond’s outstretched hand and shook it lightly, bowing his head with thanks and returned respect.

“Now then,” the Commander signaled for the troops to regroup into previous formation, “While we have mages among our ranks, many of you would not find the maneuvers performed by Ser Dorian particularly useful, unless you plan on fighting nonlethally.” A quiet chuckle simmered through the troops.

“For the majority of your sakes, I will have my associate Cassandra help me with your training. I warn you, she is a stickler for form. And rightfully so, as it could mean your life…”

The rest of training went by with little incident, other than the occasional calling out and embarrassing of inept recruits. And by the end of the session, nearing lunch, everyone was exhausted.

As the mass headed off for the dining hall, dismissed reluctantly by the Lady Seeker, Dorian saw from the corner of his eye the Commander and Seeker talking in hushed voices, glancing occasionally in his direction.

I’ll speak with him, he made out from the Commander’s lip movements. After nodding and donning a linen shirt, Dorian watched from his peripheral vision as the blond closed in on him.

“Ser Dorian,” he placed a light hand on the mage’s shoulder, “Could I speak with you a moment?”

Dorian acted surprised, even going so far as to ask, “Am I in some sort of trouble?”

The Commander chuckled, “Not at all. Performing well in front of your peers in nothing to be punished for. However, on the topic of your performance, I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

Dorian’s breath hitched. Kaffas, they’re getting suspicious, he thought to himself, trying not to appear alarmed.

The Commander led him away from the hungry glob of languid recruits and in the direction of a more private location, beginning to ask several questions along the way.

“So, if you don’t mind my asking, where did you learn to fight with a staff?” he asked nonchalantly, hands clasped behind his back in a relaxed manner.

“I went to a very prestigious academy; one where our days were filled with nothing but magical and alchemical training. More general teachings—reading, writing, arithmetic—were expected to be taught in the household between school hours.” Dorian explained, leaving out any details that could be traced to Tevinter.

The Commander nodded, humming in understanding before asking, “In Orlais? I read in your recruitment form you were born and raised there.”

“Indeed,” Dorian knew quite a bit about Orlais, and spoke a bit of Orlesian, so he supposed he could continue this lie rather well. “I was lucky to be born to a noble family.”

“I’ve never heard of the Rider family.” The Commander stated bluntly, making Dorian’s heart jump a little.

“Well,” he began, spinning a believable story in his head, “we were unfortunately, when I was rather young, stripped of our finances by a business partner who ran off with my parents’ money. The rest appears to be history.”

The Commander narrowed his eyes, taking Dorian up and down once again. “I prefer my history well documented.”

Before Dorian could comment, a runner jogged toward them, handing off a stack of papers.

“Commander! New reports for you, Ser. Spymaster says they’re not urgent, but could be useful.”

The blond sighed and skimmed several of the papers, a lock of frazzled hair falling in front of his face. He rolled his eyes, handing the papers back to the runner, “Useful seems an over statement. Jim, take these to my office and tell Leliana, respectfully, this matter is a waste of my time.”

The runner nervously nodded, jogging off from whence he came. The Commander sighed and pressed his thumb to the bridge of his nose as he thought aloud quietly, “I am not the negotiator, that is Josephine’s job and it should remain her job if we are all to stay sane…”

He dropped his hand after a moment with a deep sigh before turning to Dorian. “I apologize, Ser Dorian, but I’ve work to do before the next bout of training. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Certainly, Commander…?” Dorian waited for a reply.

“Cullen. Always Commander Cullen, of course.”

“Of course,” Dorian agreed. “Until this afternoon, Commander Cullen.” He gave a graceful bow, the Commander simply ducking his head slightly in acknowledgement before they parted ways.

__________

Dorian tossed and turned that night, nerves and nightmares drilling deep into his conscience. He woke with a start, finding his fellow troops all still asleep, gentle blue moonlight shining through the slit of a window. Determined to clear his mind and be able to go back to sleep before training that morning, Dorian set off for the battlements.

After climbing the steps, passing the few troops on night watch, Dorian found a good spot to clear his head, out of the path of patrolling guards. He leaned against the stone wall and hung his head over, propping himself up on his elbows. He sighed, hoping his nerves would leave with his breath and leave him his confident self once again. But the worry continued; worry about being found out, about being dragged back home, about dying a face in the crowd, no one knowing him for what he wanted to stand for. A man against the fear mongering of his homeland, a man against the all-ruling wants of the Imperium, the good Tevinter.

But above all else, he worried about dying before he could prove to himself that he deserved all that recognition.

Just as the feeling of existentialism began to consume him, he heard a sudden voice from behind him, gentle and light. Soft, in a way.

“Shouldn’t you be getting some rest? You trained hard yesterday, you deserve it.”

Dorian jumped and turned to see the person speaking to him. He found the Commander, once again in linens, leaning in the doorway to what Dorian assumed was his office.

“I don’t mean to interrupt your brooding,” Cullen said apologetically, coming to lean against the battlement walls as well. “I heard walking around out here, and the guards don’t patrol this close to my office. I thought maybe there was trouble. Was I correct?”

Dorian smiled gently, looking out over the mountains again, “If I’m deserving of a rest, you are far beyond deserving. Letting recruits wail on you for hours? You must be tired.”

Cullen took a deep breath, letting it out as he spoke, “They don’t know nearly enough to have actually done any damage. I’ve certainly taken worse.”

They stayed silent for a moment before Cullen spoke again, “But you didn’t answer me.”

Dorian looked at him curiously.

“Is there trouble?”

Dorian chuckled, letting out a breathy laugh and ducking his head. “No, I’m just a bit sleepless. It’s nothing new, nothing I can’t cope with.”

Cullen nodded, quiet for a moment, before saying, “With all due respect, Ser Dorian, I don’t believe you.”

Those were not words Dorian needed to hear. They only added to his nervousness over being found out. He wanted to get out of there, quickly. “I suppose I should head off then, back to bed. Don’t want to be late for morning training again.”

“There’s no curfew, you know. Well, the tavern closes an hour after sunset, but there’s no rule saying you can’t wander the grounds.”

Dorian wasn’t sure how to continue, still poised to walk away.

“Would you mind if we talked a moment?” Cullen asked innocently, gesturing to his office.

Dorian reluctantly entered the Commander’s office and took a seat.

“Our ambassador looked into your ‘noble family’, by the way.” Cullen uttered as he closed the door, sauntering over to his desk and pulling Dorian’s recruitment form out to place in front of the mage.

He was fucked, he knew it. They found out who he really was and they were going to assume he was a Venatori spy, interrogate him for information, maybe even kill him.

“Only noble Rider family in Orlais was over two hundred years ago and they died out from inherited illness. So…” Cullen lowered himself into his seat, propping his elbows on the desk and placing his head on his wound hands, “Why did you lie?”

Dorian looked through the papers in front of him; his recruitment form, his payment contract, the information dug up on the Riders, but found nothing about his true identity. Did they not figure out who he really was? Was Cullen keeping the information from him to catch him in another lie? Dorian took a deep breath before testing his luck.

“I was staying with an old friend of mine in the Hinterlands when your recruiters came knocking. My friend manages her land all on her own—it isn’t much, but she’s not as spry as younger folk—and I came to help her. The recruiters were insistent that she ‘volunteer’ or that she sign for a draft. Obviously, she can’t leave her crops and animals to parish, so I offered to go in her place, on behalf of her household.”

Dorian held his breath, waiting for Cullen to react.

The blond took a breath before restating, “Your friend is older and you wanted to make sure she wouldn’t lose her land by being drafted?”

Dorian nodded, still barely breathing.

Cullen pursed his lips and slowly bobbed his head, glancing back down to Dorian’s papers.

Finally, he opened his mouth to speak, “My recruiters were trying to force her to volunteer? Or sign for the draft? That goes against their orders, which are, simply, to spread the word of our cause and take those who volunteer for a draft, if necessary, or to join the ranks.”

Dorian let out his breath, slowly as to not let on how truly relieved he was. Cullen had not only accepted his story, but truly seemed to believe it. Not all of it was a lie, in fact most of it was true, if not laid in truth.

“Let me ask next, did you give us her name when volunteering? Or some other alias?” Cullen raised his brows like a disappointed parent catching their child in a lie.

Dorian knew giving his real name would give him away and possibly get him killed, so he instead continued the lie. “No, my name is Dorian Rider, however I don’t believe there’s any relation to the Orlesian family. As far as I know, my roots are in Antiva. However, I do not know much about my heritage. My family…” He cringed at the little truth he was about to slip in, “My family disowned me for not following their life plans for me. I only know where my parents were born.”

Cullen’s eyes went soft, emotion slipping through his interrogation mask. “I…I am truly sorry. That’s something I’ve been lucky enough to never have experienced. I won’t press the matter.”

Dorian nodded in thanks, his heart finally settling.

“While your intent was in good standing,” Cullen said, running his hands through his natural curls, “I must still report this as misconduct. You could have worse; I’m going rather easy on you for this sort of misdemeanor. I expect I will not regret my decision, Ser Dorian?”

Dorian nodded, just relieved the whole confrontation was over.

“Good, then I believe everything is settled,” Cullen stated, leading Dorian to the door.

As Dorian began to hurry off, Cullen called after him, “And Ser Dorian!”

Dorian turned to listen.

“I said while sparring I would not go so far as to say I was impressed with your performance. It seems I told a bit of a lie myself.”

Cullen gave a knowing look before closing the door to his office.

__________

After several days of following a simple routine—getting up at the arse-crack of dawn, training for the morning, eating lunch, then training until sundown—Dorian began to feel comfortable with his new surroundings. Since his impressive display sparring with the Commander, people had begun to respect him, addressing him politely as he passed, even if Dorian was hardly their acquaintance. He felt good, confident in himself once again, and sure his secret was completely safe.

As he wandered the courtyard, clearing his mind after a lackluster lunch with the other recruits, Dorian noticed an elf with a powerful stance, Dalish markings on his skin, approaching him with purpose in his step.

“Dorian Rider, yes? I’ve heard much about you from your fellow troops; and our Commander himself.”

“Inquisitor!” Dorian suddenly realized, only having seen the man from a distance before now, “It’s an honor. And I’m happy to have good things said about me.” He bowed, low and respectful.

The elf scoffed, “Please, enough with the formalities. I was hoping to speak with you, if I could.” He gestured forward, in the direction of the main hall.

“Of course,” Dorian answered as he followed, only a slight nervousness rising in his chest.

When they arrived in the hall, few people occupying the echoing space, the Inquisitor began to ask, “From all I’ve seen and heard, you have quite a talent for magic and fighting. While all mages are technically apostates now, I understand you were an apostate before all the in-fighting broke out. Is that correct?”

Dorian nodded, thinking he knew where this was going. “I was indeed. While I won’t claim to be better than a Circle mage, I do believe I had the opportunity to learn many magic forms the Chantry might frown on. Excluding blood magic, of course. A disgusting use of power.” Dorian shuddered slightly, remembering its uses in Tevinter politics.

“Absolutely. You seem an upstanding man, one who would not abuse the privilege of living outside the Circle.” The Inquisitor sauntered slowly toward a door at the side of the hall, pushing it open and beckoning Dorian through. Dorian obliged, waiting in the short corridor before holding the second door open for the elf.

“Among my people blood magic is considered savage and unnatural, as many others feel, Circle mage or no. While I believe the Circle has a place, I do not believe it is to control or constrict mages, but to teach them and help them learn to control themselves and their own power. From what Commander Cullen has told me about Kirkwall, I think the Circle has driven more mages to consider dark magicks as a means to escape. Horrifying things they may never have even conceived of if given more freedom.”

The elf seemed oddly adamant for a non-mage, making Dorian slightly suspicious as to where the conversation was headed. But as the Inquisitor led them to a massive room with a massive map table, Dorian felt there would be no trouble today.

Several men stood behind the map table, some Dorian recognized as the Inquisitor’s associates, and others he’d seen around Skyhold with no context as to who they were.

“I’d like to introduce you to some of my most trusted members and friends of the Inquisition.” The elf gestured forward with a sweeping motion, triggering everyone to bow their heads and smile.

“Firstly, Solas, who has been with us from the beginning, helping me cope with the Anchor and studying its power.”

The tall slender elf smiled softly, “It is a pleasure, Ser Dorian.”

“Secondly—of course you know him—our Commander, Cullen, leader of our forces, ex-Templar, currently slowly dying from lyrium withdrawal he never told me about.” The Inquisitor eyed him angrily as the Commander gave a sheepish smile, muttering some sort of apology.

“And of course, the roguish duo of Varric and his little shadow Cole.”

The Dwarf waved as he continued to tune up his crossbow, saying casually, “Good to meet you, pretty boy.”

The young man behind him, on the other hand, looked Dorian curiously in the eyes before uttering, “You’re different inside your head: lacking, loathing, lonely; soft words never enough, but harsh words too harsh to heal.”

Dorian gave the Inquisitor a side glance, eyes wide with surprise. “Um, yeah. He does…that.” The Inquisitor apologized.

Dorian nodded tentatively to each of them before saying quietly to the Inquisitor, “While it’s lovely to meet everyone, I’m not quite sure I understand what this is about.”

The elf chuckled as he approached the war table and walked around to join his colleagues on the other side. “I, Eridan Levellan, would like to personally induct you into my inner circle, to join me and my allies—and closest friends—in the monumental task of keeping the Inquisition afloat and keeping our allies, and prospective allies, satisfied and compliant.”

Dorian’s jaw fell open in shock, meaning to say something, but at a loss for words.

The Inquisitor laughed again, “Allow me to explain my reasoning: Cullen and Cassandra told me about your skill with fighting and magic after your first display, and have kept me up to date on your progress and ability as it’s been relieved to us through your training. While I am incredibly glad to have you among our forces, I think your skill could be better put to use in the field, when it’s just me and a small group out and about.”

He pulled Cole and Varric into his side, arms around their shoulders and a hand on Solas’s arm as he stated, “While I have other members in my inner circle, these three are the ones who most often join me on my personal missions. Providing immediate aid, closing rifts, dealing with people’s weird family problems in exchange for supplies and alliance—we see it all, and it’s all dangerous. I think I could use someone with your talent out with me, watching my back!”

The short, and surprisingly stocky elf seemed incredibly excited about the concept, raising his eyebrows to question Dorian, imploring him to accept the offer.

When Dorian hesitated, Solas spoke up, voice soft and reassuring, “If I am to have an opinion in the matter, I would be delighted to work with another mage interested in the magicks not taught within any Circle. As an apostate myself, I chose to study spirits and ancient magicks, finding lost pieces of history in the fade as I dreamt. Many mages from the Circle believe this means I have made pacts with demons, and explaining my innocent intentions becomes tiresome. I, for one, would welcome the addition of a like minded apostate into our ranks.”

“The only apostate I ever met escaped from the Circle and it’s all he ever talked about. ‘Templars this, rebellion that.’ Had an insane spirit living in him, too. I’d like to spend time with less crazy mages,” Varric chimed in.

“You think about acceptance, but have never come to expect it. I’ve seen the dangers, lived with them. If that’s acceptance, I would have to change for it. Would I be myself after that?...” Cole was suddenly next to him, despite being under the Inquisitor’s arm only a second ago.

“Sweet Andra—! Can you not do that?” Dorian exclaimed, almost jumping away.

“Don’t mind him. He’s some kind of ‘good’ spirit. He doesn’t really understand boundaries.” The Inquisitor said, coming around the war table to pull Cole away by the wrist.

Cullen’s voice, the softest of everyone’s, gained Dorian’s attention immediately, “As the one who recommended this to begin with, I of course think you should accept. You have a wonderful talent that I can’t use among my troops. It seems a pity to waste it under my command.” He gave an encouraging smile, making Dorian’s mind up instantly.

“Inquisitor, it would be an honor to be part of your inner circle. I accept.”

The Inquisitor practically cheered, ushering everyone out so he could explain what would be expected of Dorian. Dorian listened intently, making sure to joke with the elf to gain his trust and form a feeling of comradery.

After stepping out of the war room, Dorian found Cullen waiting for him, leaning against the ambassador’s empty desk, standing upright when Dorian entered the room.

“I’m happy to hear you’ll be traveling with the Inquisitor from now on. As I said before, I truly think your skills will be better suited in the field.” Cullen extended his hand to offer congratulations.

Dorian took it in a confident grasp, giving a single solid shake. “I appreciate the referral. I’m certain it will surprise you to hear, but not many people appreciate my efforts.”

Cullen chuckled, “I can certainly relate; there have been times in my life where I felt the same. Looking back…” the Commander trailed off slightly, “Well, I’m not so certain anymore that my efforts deserved to be appreciated.”

“I assume you mean your time as a Templar?”

The blond sighed, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck, “Yes. I followed faithfully, but I realize now I was not following the right path.”

Dorian smiled, understanding completely, “Believe me, Commander, I know the feeling.”

They were both quiet for a moment before Cullen asked, shyly, “Would you mind if I asked…?”

“My family. What my family had planned for me, for the rest of my life. I followed as faithfully as I could until…” Dorian looked at his feet, eyes full of pain, trying to avoid Cullen noticing. “Until I was older and understood what they expected of me. After I dared to defy them one too many times…”

Dorian stopped. He couldn’t say anymore. Yes, it might give him away, but that wasn’t why he couldn’t speak. He knew, he remembered what his father was willing to do to change his preferences, and it hurt too much to say out loud. The man he thought had his best interests at heart turned out to only care about himself. Saying it out loud was like admitting a truth Dorian didn’t want to accept.

Cullen tried to look him in the eyes, touching his hand ever so gently to gain his attention. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright, I’m learning to accept it. It just…isn’t fun to talk about.” Dorian gave a pained smile.

Cullen sighed, dropping his hand from Dorian’s in favor of rubbing at his neck again, “I know. One’s past shapes who they are and who they become. Sometimes it’s difficult to accept who you were…”

Dorian saw the familiarity in Cullen’s gaze—distant and unsure—and heard the regret in his tone, but decided not to push the matter.

“Or, uh, who your parents were, I mean. I-I’m sure you’ve always been this wonderful. A wonderful person, that is! Good, uh, good moral standing, and all that.” Cullen’s face was very quickly getting red as he tried to avoid eye contact and stutter through his explanation.

Dorian chuckled, taking pity on the blond. “I understood what you meant, Commander, no worries.”

“Cullen.”

“Pardon?”

The Commander looked up suddenly, looking directly into Dorian’s eyes. He hadn’t noticed before that they were nearly gold. “Call me Cullen. You’re no longer under my command, so please: just Cullen.” He smiled so genuinely that Dorian almost forgot to respond.

“Oh, yes, well…” he laughed a little more to fill the silence as he thought. “I suppose I like the title. It suits you.”

Cullen smiled sheepishly, the blush coming back, less strong this time. “As you wish, Ser Dorian.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, shifting his weight to a more casual stance, finally feeling comfortable, “Now you’re just teasing me.”

Cullen poorly faked a look of offence, “Tease? Never!”

“Mm, you should work on your poker face, Commander.” Dorian couldn’t help but smile a bit.

Cullen laughed with him before the two fell silent again, neither wanting to leave, but neither knowing what to say.

“I…I wanted to ask a while ago, but I didn’t want the other recruits to think I was giving you special treatment: would you care to continue sparring when neither of us is busy? As odd as it may sound, I enjoyed the challenge.” Cullen seemed to be looking anywhere but ahead, avoiding Dorian’s eyes.

Dorian grinned, also avoiding eye contact, feeling like a childish school boy dodging around outright flirting with one another. “I would like that, actually.”

The two agreed on a time and place, and parted ways for the rest of the day. Dorian wandered a while until he saw the Inquisitor again, casually asking about continuing to sleep in the barracks.

“Oh! We can find you more private quarters if you like. I certainly wouldn’t want to live with a bunch of other people if I didn’t have to. Talk to Josephine, our Ambassador; she’ll find an open room for you.”

And so Dorian did, and by the end of the day, he had moved his belongings to a small—but comfortable—room with a view of the tavern and gardens. Right off the side of the main hall, and up a few flights of stairs, Dorian’s door opened to a balcony where he could see everything. While he knew these rooms were meant for visiting guests, and it may not be a permanent living situation, he had to admit it felt good to have his own space again. He did what had to be done to survive—slept in inns, travelers’ camps, worked odd jobs before finding Miss Ella’s farm— but it certainly wasn’t the lifestyle he was used to.

But that lifestyle was far out of reach now. As he sat on the edge of his new bed, mindlessly sorting his collection of magical trinkets, he wondered if life would have been better if he went along with his family’s plan to begin with. Marry the girl, have another mage son, continue living a lie for the rest of his life. He often told himself it would have been easier, but that wasn’t true. How could it be easy to deny your true self for your entire life? How could it be easy to force yourself to have sex with someone you could never be attracted to until you finally had a child?

How could it be easier than leaving everything you’ve ever known behind? That was difficult enough on its own.

“I don’t know;” he thought aloud, “how could it be harder?”

“Harder?”

Dorian jumped, conjuring a small flame in his palm on instinct, letting it fizzle as he saw the Commander in the doorway, leaning casually on the doorframe.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Cullen said, extending his hand out as he carefully approached, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just thought I would come see how you were adjusting. All this, it must be a bit of a transition.”

Dorian’s palm quickly cooled as he let out a long breath, slowly calming down from the scare. “It certainly is. I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but it seems so sudden. Too sudden.”

Cullen chuckled, “I’d say you’ve earned it. But of course I would, I made the suggestion. How do you feel about it all?” he cocked his head on a slight angle, like a curious dog.

Dorian gestured for the Commander to sit next to him, the blond taking a tentative seat. “It’s odd. Coming here the way I did. Knowing what I came from—money, power, having to exceed expectations if you wanted to get anywhere in life…it was so stressful, and running away from it all was so stressful. And now…”

Dorian turned his head to see Cullen’s innocent golden eyes filled with understanding, knowing just as well what it was like to run from the only life you’d ever known. He found himself entranced, forgetting everything as he lost himself in wisdom-filled, pained eyes that reminded him of his own, a tired glaze darkening the once bright shine of hope they held years ago.

“And now?” Cullen repeated, hardly voicing the words.

The moment felt so intimate; the bed was somewhat small, so they were seated close, leaning toward each other. Cullen’s hand was pressed to the bed to support him as he leaned, placed right behind Dorian. It almost felt like they were embraced without touching each other. He felt comfortable, so comfortable he couldn’t even bring himself to question what was happening. So he simply let the moment linger. It didn’t feel awkward, it didn’t feel drawn out. It just felt…comfortable.

It seemed like an eternity before Cullen’s leg gently bumped his, the blond letting the tips of his fingers rest on Dorian’s thigh. He wasn’t sure what the intent of the action was, but it only made Dorian lose himself more. At first he was just lost in the ex-Templar’s eyes. Now he could see the entirety of him, inside and out. And after scanning over his body, Dorian’s eyes locked on to the blond’s lips. The room froze, time froze. Dorian saw Cullen’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed harshly, obviously wanting more than just Dorian’s eyes on his lips.

Dorian let himself move closer, just a bit, and Cullen did the same.

“And now,” Dorian’s voice was somewhere below a whisper, “things almost feel easy.”

“They could be,” Cullen’s voice was even, giving nothing away. Dorian wished there was some sort of hoarseness, wobbliness, something in his voice that made it clear what was happening here.

But Dorian wasn’t sure. He needed to be certain before he outed himself here. In Ferelden, in the Inquisition, in this moment with Cullen. He needed to be certain.

So he backed off, leaning away again and closing his eyes. He heard the Commander sigh next to him and clear his throat, shifting away.

“You sound like you have a lot on your mind,” Cullen sounded disappointed, but by this point Dorian had already convinced himself not taking a chance was the better course of action.

“I can leave you with your thoughts, if you like?”

“For now,” Dorian sighed, “That might be best.”

Cullen nodded, standing and heading for the door. “Until tomorrow?” he asked, audibly confused about their situation.

Dorian smiled gently, “Until tomorrow, Commander.”

__________

Dorian slept only a few hours that night, anxious and almost excited for Cullen and his appointment. He wore something more or less appropriate for sparring, forgoing his Inquisition sanctioned armor in favor of his own. It fit his form in a much more flattering way, and the magical embellishments made it more practical as well. He had a bounce to his step as he exited his room, using his staff halfheartedly like a walking stick as he went.

Before he reached the training grounds, Dorian took the time to admire how empty Skyhold felt. There were a few soldiers on the battlement, tired runners getting back from late errands, even two recruits who thought they were being stealthy while stealing a bottle of ale from the closed tavern. They noticed him, swearing as they sprinted off into the bushes to enjoy their find, and Dorian couldn’t help but chuckle at their youthful behavior.

He felt content. Things were going well. He knew he shouldn’t let his guard down, but Dorian couldn’t force himself to be paranoid in this peaceful moment an hour before dawn. He looked to the sky to see the scar and the moon almost perfectly aligned, about halfway set. He had time.

Just as he took a deep breath, a gentle voice barely rocked him.

“Fancy meeting you here. Any reason you’re up so early?”

Dorian turned to see Cullen with a smirk on his lips and still in full armor, despite normally dressing down to train and spar.

“I believe we had a date, Commander. It appears you may have forgotten, from your dress.” Dorian let Cullen notice as he purposefully drug his gaze over the blond’s physic, deciding against licking his lips. What about the wee hours of the morning made Dorian so openly flirtatious, he would never know. Even when it came to men who otherwise wouldn’t be his first choice, Dorian was always more open minded at the early hours.

Cullen raised a brow under the sensual scrutiny, “Oh, I haven’t forgotten. And I could say the same for you, in your…intricate attire.” He dropped his sword and shield next to him on the ground as he began to remove his upper armor, leaving his boots and trousers alone.

“Oh, do you like it? I would have brought it out sooner if we weren’t made to wear uniforms under your command. Boring, ugly uniforms.” Dorian shuddered dramatically.

Cullen shook his head and smirked as he loosely held his weapons, now shirtless and prepared to spar. “I didn’t assign those uniforms, you can take that up with the Inquisitor. However, I doubt your armor would be very practical when rushing into battle. Too many belts.” He eyed Dorian’s armor, trying to figure out how it worked.

Dorian adopted a pose to show quite a bit of his body, showing himself and the armor off at once. “It’s not nearly as complicated as it looks.” Stated matter-of-factly, before dipping his voice to a more sultry tone, “I could show you if you like. With practice, you could become quite proficient. It doesn’t take me much time to strip out of it all.”

His eyes were lidded as he watched Cullen. The Commander’s expression hardly changed as he said, oh so quietly as usual, “Perhaps I’ll keep that in mind.”

He hadn’t hesitated with his response, and Dorian found himself caught off guard at Cullen’s boldness. Maybe the morning hours had an effect on him as well.

“Well then,” he said, squaring up to Dorian, “How shall we start?”

Dorian followed his lead, “Magic or no magic?”

“None yet. I haven’t had to defend against magic without my—what did you call them? ‘Little Templar tricks’?—in quite some time. I don’t want either of us to get hurt. Perhaps when we have some supervision.”

Dorian sighed and said in an overly exasperated tone, “Shame; I was rather hoping these would be…private sessions.” He winked.

Cullen’s face heated, but it didn’t stop him from responding, “Out in the courtyard? This is hardly private. Now, if you ever show me how to work that ‘armor’ of yours; that I’d consider a private session.”

The morning was chilly, dew freezing on to the grass, but it was warm enough that Dorian should not have visibly shivered. He couldn’t pull any excuse when Cullen noticed. It was obvious what was happening. The blond smirked at him, Dorian trying not to think about the effect Cullen’s flirtations had on him. Not here, and certainly not now. Dorian had designed his armor himself, and liked that it fit in a way that left few things to the imagination, but if this sparring session got a little too handsy, Dorian may be wishing he had worn the Inquisition’s armor instead.

Thankfully, Cullen didn’t mention Dorian’s reaction, and simply started their training, leading with the initial blow as always. Dorian could dodge and throw up wards like there was no tomorrow, but he wanted to train his defense, not just evasion. So he used his staff to block and parry Cullen’s attacks, focusing his mind on observing his opponent, just as Cullen had been telling him to.

Before long, Dorian was focusing less and less on Cullen’s form, attack patterns, or eye line, and more on his body, movement, and gaze.

His eyes seemed sharp, knowing exactly where he wanted to land a blow. His body was under full control, every muscle accounted for and flowing to where his gaze wanted them. He moved with such grace for a warrior; surprisingly loose and agile for all his heavy armor and muscle build.

Dorian had continued to successfully dodge and defend while in his trance, but he hadn’t been holding his ground very well, slowly backing up and losing awareness of where his feet were.

Inevitably, his foot landed on uneven ground and he slipped. But long before he would have hit the ground, Cullen wrapped his arm around the mage’s waist and pulled him back up, their chests flush.

Dorian was tense, not even having realized he’d been falling until Cullen pulled him back. He returned from his thoughts when he heard Cullen’s voice say with an incredible tenderness, “I’ve got you.”

“You certainly have…”

Cullen cocked a brow, gentle smile still donned, as he waited for Dorian to make a move. He wasn’t letting go until Dorian told him to, and Dorian finally had the confirmation he needed to take the risk of making said move. His body relaxed against the Commander’s as he let his arms slide between them, nimble fingers tracing up Cullen’s marred chest. Dorian let his hands rest on either side of the blond’s neck, slowly pulling him forward to let their lips meet.

But just as their lips brushed together, they heard footsteps skid to a halt in front of them.

Cullen sighed and turned his head, growling with frustration, “What!?”

The troop looked stunned, having only just realized what she walked up on. When she failed to answer, the Commander let go of Dorian’s waist and marched slowly, intimidatingly toward the recruit, nostrils flared and steps heavy. The young woman backed away with her hands close to her face as if Cullen might actually hurt her. Dorian couldn’t blame her for thinking he might; the blond certainly wasn’t calm.

“I-I’m so sorry Ser, I just w-wanted to be e-early—”

“What do you think the bells are for? So you can wake up before them? If you showed up to battle early, do you know what would happen?”

“I don’t—”

“It would be you against an army, with your fellow soldiers miles behind you. You would be dead before you even had time to scream.”

The poor girl was shaking by this point, trying to stutter an apology through wobbly breath.

Cullen closed his eyes tightly, grumbling as he pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “While I appreciate your incentive,” he began after he calmed down, “I expect you all here exactly when I say. Not a second later, nor a second sooner. Don’t be early, be on time.”

He looked apologetically to the girl as she continued to quiver. Cullen placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her around, gently prodding her back toward the barracks. She walked off slowly, still in shock.

Dorian smiled and shook his head, arms crossed, as Cullen sauntered back over to him with an embarrassed blush, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“That poor young woman is going to have nightmares” Dorian looked at Cullen accusingly, but he couldn’t help smiling at how ridiculous the whole situation was.

“I’m going to have to apologize to her later. I think I ruined the moment more than her seeing us did.” Cullen’s blush reached from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck and to the bottom of his collarbone.

Dorian chuckled and stepped closer to Cullen again, placing a hand on his cheek only to be greeted with the heat of his blush. “Perhaps we can bring it back before the bells. Unless you’d like to frighten a few more of your troops this morning? Show them who’s boss, etcetera?”

Cullen scoffed a little, but he was smiling. How could he not be, when Dorian was gently caressing his face and coaxing him into a kiss? He replaced his hand on Dorian’s waist and pressed against him, the mage pulling Cullen in tighter by the biceps.

And, finally, their lips met. Dorian meant for it to be rather chaste, leaving Cullen wanting more, but he couldn’t pull himself away. It wasn’t the same kiss he had gotten a hundred times in Tevinter. It wasn’t a formality during a loveless night together. This kiss was warm and soft, tender and compassionate, much like the man giving it.

Dorian’s hands slid up Cullen’s arms to hold his neck firmly, for fear the blond might pull away before Dorian had gotten the chance to relish the kiss. Cullen let his shield clatter to the ground, wrapping both arms tightly around the mage, hands splayed across his back, trying to feel through the armor. For a moment, Dorian considered removing the upper portion of his armor, so the two could be skin to skin, and he could feel Cullen’s callused hands up and down his back. By the Maker, that’s all he wanted in the moment, but he forced himself to save the stripping for somewhere other than the training grounds.

It almost felt like it lasted for hours by the intensity and the way the sun had risen over the fortress walls in the meantime. What finally broke the kiss was the striking ringing of the morning bells sounding Skyhold to wake up. Both men jumped at the sound, completely forgetting their surroundings while locked in each other’s embrace.

Dorian’s surprised eyes locked with Cullen’s with a matching expression, and both couldn’t help but laugh at their reaction. Cullen’s arms were still around Dorian’s waist, and Dorian’s draped over the Commander’s shoulders comfortably. It wasn’t until the men caught a glimpse of approaching grounds keepers that their embrace fell away, standing back awkwardly from one another before they were discovered.

“I…”

Cullen raised his eyebrows, waiting for Dorian to say something, because he was too stunned to do it himself.

“Thank you. For the sparring, that is. I…enjoyed it.” Dorian didn’t want to believe he was blushing, but he knew blood was rushing to his face.

Cullen smiled, only extending his hand in response. Dorian took Cullen’s hand in a firm grasp, giving a single solid shake. They stared at one another for a moment before Cullen stepped forward, his hold becoming gentle and soft. Eyes still locked with Dorian’s, he pressed a lasting kiss to the back of the man’s hand, the gesture holding more emotion than Dorian knew how to respond to. So, instead, he just smiled and ducked his head.

“So did I.” Cullen said lightly bringing their entwined hands away from his lips.

__________

His mind was in shambles, there was no way he could focus with his heart and head racing like this. Adrenaline had his hands shaking and his legs restless, so he paced. And paced and paced, around the room like it was a stage and all his anxiety and fears were the actors in a play.

But all these were real. Far too real for comfort.

Dorian exasperatedly threw open his door, rushing to the tavern to drown his panic attack away. As he walked—it was more of a jog, if he was honest—he wondered if there was really any reason to be anxious. Had anyone even seen him snogging the Commander? Would it be as scandalous in Ferelden as in Tevinter? While he doubted it, his anxious mind was having none of his logic.

When he entered the Herald’s Rest, it was fairly loud, the Inquisitor and Bull getting rowdy with the Chargers and a few stray recruits. Good, plenty of noise to drown out his thoughts.

Dorian grabbed a seat and a drink and proceeded to drink his feelings.

He hadn’t been counting, but it must have been an hour after he started drinking—and seven drinks in; he had been counting those—before a large and gruff hand smacked him playfully on the shoulder. Dorian jumped, turning quickly and narrowing his eyes. As he looked up, he saw a massive rack of Qunari horns and muscle looming over him, tankard in hand and bare chested.

“How’s it going? You’re that mage who kicked Cullen’s ass, yeah?” he lowered into a chair across the table.

“Is that how the story’s been spun?” Dorian’s words were melding together as he swirled his drink around in its mug.

“Might as well go with it,” the Oxman shrugged. “Better than being known as the undercover Vint, right?”

Dorian immediately sobered, back straightening and voice dropping low. “Who are you? What do you know and what do you want?”

Bull raised his brow, “Not even denying it? I’m guessing you aren’t normally this careless when you’re sober. Don’t think you would have made it this far.”

“Answer me,” Dorian growled through clenched teeth.

Smiling, Bull leaned his beefy arms on the table, dropping his tone as well. “I’m Ben Hassrath. Don’t worry, it’s no secret, actually I think that’s the first thing I said to the Inquisitor,” Bull cleared his throat and adjusted to lean even farther across the table, “It’s my job to read people, know things they would never admit by just looking at them. Besides, you really don’t think a Qunari would recognize a Vint when he sees one?”

Dorian couldn’t think straight; the way Bull talked quietly felt as if he didn’t want to out anything, but why would he bring this up in the first place if he was going to keep it a secret?

“I can pay whatever you want, I come from a very wealthy family. Just name your price and I’ll—”

Bull held up a hand to stop him, “Yeah, your family might be rich, but you’re not, are you? You ran off with the clothes on your back and something expensive to sell, just in case. Isn’t that right?”

Dorian’s mouth hung open as he tried to process the information, the fact that Bull was hitting every nail on the head with no more information than what he could see on Dorian’s face.

“That’s what I thought. And don’t worry, I don’t need you to pay me. I know you’re not Venatori, just a regular cocky mage boy. You won’t hurt anyone, not on purpose anyway.” He leaned back, crossing his arms in triumph, watching as realization washed over Dorian’s face.

“You’re not going to tell the Inquisitor? Or the Inquisition as a whole?”

Bull shrugged, downing the last of his ale, “No point. You’re keeping this a secret for a reason, and it’s a pretty good one. It’s probably what I would do in your shoes.”

Dorian took a moment, then shook his head, “But…you were in my situation. And you told them who you really are.”

Laughter echoed around the tavern as Bull belted out, “Oh, I guess I did, didn’t I?” He let the last of the laughter trickle out in several smaller huffs. “Well, at least the whole world isn’t at war with the Qunari.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, “For once,” he muttered.

Bull sneered at him, “Watch it, Vint boy.”

Dorian sighed a breath of relief, hanging his head in his hands. He had no reason to trust Bull would keep his word, but for now it was enough.

After a moment of relative silence—as silent as it can get in a tavern after dark—Dorian heard the chair across from him creak as Bull leaned forward again.

“So, uh…I can see you have a lot on your mind. Think I could help clear your head a bit?”

Dorian looked up in near disgust. He wasn’t sure it was genuine, more just to keep up the Qunari-Tevinter feud. “I think not.”

Bull shrugged and stood, sauntering back to his Chargers. “Suit yourself. You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

While Dorian had to admit he was curious, he was far too enamored with the Commander, thinking back over and over on their moment in the courtyard that morning.

__________

Paranoia had filled his bones for days, taking over his thoughts and actions. He wanted nothing more than to be alone, do as little as possible that could draw suspicion. He separated himself from the troops, the inner circle, the Inquisitor. Bull, especially.

And he tried to separate himself from Cullen, a major source of his anxiety. But every time he saw the blond walking toward him, with a sweet crooked smile that acknowledged their mutual feelings without bringing them to the forefront of conversation, Dorian could feel his shoulders relax and his mind declutter.

And, of course, it happened again. As Dorian trained in the courtyard, he could see the Commander’s infamous armor out of the corner of his eye. He just stood, watched as Dorian put his magic on display, not necessarily trying to impress anyone, but being impressive nonetheless.

At that point, Dorian was finding it hard to tell if Cullen was watching him out of adoration or suspicion. In an attempt to hide his nerves, Dorian ceased his casting and gave Cullen an exaggerated side glance.

“Enjoying the show, Commander?” He shifted his weight to one hip as he poked his staff into the ground.

Cullen raised his brows innocently, “Show? I was just admiring your form. A natural gift, I’m sure.”

Dorian strode up to where Cullen was leaning against a wall, “My form, he says.” He was tempted to run a hand down the blond’s chest, but chose not to out of fear of passersby noticing.

“I was simply studying how you move for the next time we spar, that’s all.” Cullen’s cheeks were ever so slightly pink.

Dorian grinned, “Is that all you were ‘studying’?” his voice was low and rumbly.

A few seconds passed before Cullen had to look away, his face turning bright red, unable to control a smile. Dorian had to give him props for how long the Commander managed to flirt back.

“I was actually here to ask if you had a bit of spare time,” Cullen’s blush slowly left his cheeks as he spoke, “but I figured I would wait until you were done.”

Dorian tilted his head a bit, “I might, depending on what for.”

“Chess.”

Was the conversation still flirtatious? Was “chess” a euphemism used in the south that Dorian wasn’t aware of?

“Chess?”

Cullen chuckled, “Yes, it’s something I like to do to clear my head, and you’ve seemed…full-headed, let’s say, as of late.”

Dorian huffed a laugh, “That would be one way to put it, yes.”

Cullen smiled and gestured to the garden, “Shall we, then?”

They didn’t say much as they walked to the garden, but Cullen began to explain as he pulled out Dorian’s chair for him, “My sister and I used to play chess against each other in hopes of beating our father one day.” He walked around to take his seat once Dorian was settled. “Eventually, she became even better at the game than Dad, so the new goal was for me to beat her. My brother and I practiced for months, hoping one of us would be able to beat her at least once. The look on her face when I finally won…”

The memory of triumph put the sweetest, most juvenile smile on Cullen’s scarred lips. Dorian couldn’t help but inquire, “A girl and two boys? Sounds like you parents had their work cut out for them.”

“Two girls and two boys, actually. Mia is the eldest, Rosalie is the youngest. I’m the older of us boys, however. Branson is a few years younger than me.”

Dorian scoffed with shock, “Quite a large family, isn’t it? And to think, I have no entertaining sibling stories to share.”

“Only child? You must have been spoiled, getting all the attention.” Cullen moved a piece on the board to start off the match.

Dorian gave a single harsh laugh. “Hardly; if my parents spent money on me, it was for my schooling. Only the most prestigious academies for their little heir.” Dorian rolled his eyes as he made his move, sitting back and crossing his arms after.

Cullen’s expression was so gentle and sympathetic. Dorian didn’t enjoy being pitied, but he knew Cullen wasn’t the type.

“Children should be free to have fun. It wasn’t fair of them to make you work so hard.”

Dorian felt a deep compressed anger bubble up before he said, “Children should be free to have fun, teenagers should be free to have fun, and I believe adults should be free to have fun. We should all just have fun with whomever we want and no one should have the right to judge us for it.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Dorian took a moment to calm down before looking back up to meet Cullen’s gaze. He seemed shocked and a little worried. Dorian looked at him expectantly with eyebrows raised.

“Uh, yes, I agree!” Cullen rushed to assure him, “I’m just not sure where that came from. Is that what’s been bothering you these past few days?”

Dorian sighed, “I suppose it’s part of it. That has been bothering me for most of my life, truthfully.”

The rest of the match was played in silence, Cullen only interjecting once to call Dorian out for cheating. They both laughed as Dorian replaced the affected piece, but they fell quiet again to finish the game.

“I believe that’s Checkmate.”

Dorian shook his head playfully, “You’re in the right line of work, it seems. Strategy is your forte. Good game, Commander.”

“And to you, Dorian. Care to play another round?”

As much as he was enjoying Cullen’s company, Dorian’s mind was tired from all his worrying—though this had been a good distraction—and he just needed to rest.

“I’m afraid not. I’ve things I wanted to get done today, I’m sorry.”

Cullen rose from his seat, “It’s no problem at all.”

Dorian rose as well, but neither went anywhere. They both just stood, looking softly at the other.

“Um…” Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck. “Could I walk you back to your quarters, then? Or wherever it is you’re headed.”

Dorian felt a flattered smile tease the corner of his lips. “I would like that, yes.”

On the steps up to the loft of the main hall, Dorian cleared his throat before speaking, “I apologize for my outburst earlier. I’ve just been thinking about my life back home recently.”

Cullen shook his head and placed a gentle hand on the mage’s back, “You have nothing to apologize for. I was hoping a game of chess would help clear your mind, so I was expecting you to vent a bit.”

At Dorian’s door Cullen added, “You know, you should feel free to talk to me. About anything. I said that when we first met, and it hasn’t changed just because you’re no longer under my command.”

As he stood in the doorway, Dorian glanced from Cullen to inside his room, wondering if he should act on their mutual attraction, or continue avoiding Cullen forever. How would Cullen be hurt if Dorian’s lies came to light? Not nearly as badly if they were just friends.

Dorian took a deep breath, “Maybe talking would help.”

Cullen smiled loosely.

“Or…” I’m really going through with this, aren’t I? “maybe not talking would help…”

Cullen’s smile fell away as he caught Dorian’s meaning. He didn’t make any move toward or away from Dorian, just like the first time he had been in his room. He simply said, in the quietest voice just above a whisper, “Whatever you’d like, I’m here.”

That was Dorian’s last chance to not do something stupid, but he ignored his racing heart. “I’d like you to come in.”

Cullen took a single stride into the room, closing the door and locking it behind them. He slowly closed the distance between them, placing caring hands on Dorian’s hips, waiting for more invitation.

Dorian let his hands glide up the armor on Cullen’s chest, watching his fingers draw closer to Cullen’s neck, the blond’s eyes studying his unsure expression all the while.

Just as skin met skin, Cullen whispered, “We don’t have to do this. No one’s making us. If you’re not certain—”

“I’m certain about you,” Dorian met his gaze, “I’m only uncertain about letting myself do this. I’ve fucked this up before, I don’t want to fuck it up with you.”

Cullen let out a pained sigh, gently taking Dorian's face in his hands and kissing him. How could something so soft be so intense all at once? Dorian dug his fingers into the fur mantle of Cullen’s armor, walking them backward toward the bed. With each step, a new article of clothing fell away, until they finally fell onto the bed in only their trousers. Cullen’s attention turned to the mage’s neck, Dorian biting his lip at the sensation.

Cullen’s kisses moved up and down and back up slowly and methodically, making Dorian arch off the bed ever so slightly with each touch, subtle noises escaping his lips. Cullen wrapped his tongue around the shell of Dorian’s ear, breathing heavy but quiet, “I can’t begin to tell you how you make me feel. I adore everything about you. I admire your confidence and how unabashedly ‘you’ you are. I can hardly stand to be away from you the more I get to know you.”

Dorian was nearly breathless as Cullen kissed his way down the mage’s chest. It wasn’t until those callused fingers started to loosen his laces that he felt he couldn’t breathe at all.

As Cullen made tantalizing work of Dorian’s last remaining garment, he whispered with raw emotion, “Nothing could change the way I feel about you, Dorian Rider.”

With that, Dorian sat up and grabbed Cullen’s hands to pause their work.

“Stop.”

Cullen’s head shot up to look Dorian in the eye, worry flooding his mind. “Are you ok?” he lifted himself to sit on the edge of the bed next to the mage, caressing his cheek with one hand, stroking his hair with the other.

“You don’t know me, Cullen. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Confusion washed over Cullen’s features, “I…I don’t understand. I want to know you. I feel like I do, but if I don’t, then I want—”

Dorian shook his head vigorously, “Cullen, you don’t get it! You wouldn’t want me if you knew me.”

Cullen’s eyes went stern, “Dorian, I just told you nothing could change my feelings for you. Nothing. I meant that.”

Dorian removed Cullen’s hand from his face, gently stroking the Commander’s knuckles with his thumb, “Please go, Cullen. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You could never hurt—”

“Please,” Tears threatened the rims of his eyes as he tried to hold his ground. He wanted nothing more than Cullen’s body against his, but he knew Cullen would only be let down, falling for a fake man Dorian created.

Cullen took a moment to lean his head against Dorian’s, a wordless goodbye, before he rose and began throwing on his armor, scattered from the door to the foot of the bed. Dorian watched his hands as Cullen silently dressed, glancing back periodically to gauge the mage’s feelings.

As he opened the door to leave, Cullen’s weak voice called back, “You can tell me anything, Dorian. I meant that, too.”

“Not anything.”

The room turned cold when Cullen left, and the breeze from the door closing behind his one chance at love shook the tears from Dorian’s eyes, falling onto his shaking hands.

He could have been sitting there for hours—he wouldn’t know—just trying to…well, he wasn’t sure of that either. He felt so numb despite the tears he could feel on his cheeks. He couldn’t decide if he needed a drink, a good sob, or some self-pleasuring. None of them would make him feel better, but they would make him feel something.

He’s gone. Dorian kept repeating in his head. He’s gone, and I sent him away. He confessed his feelings to me, feelings I share, and I told him to go. I can never get him back, I sent him away…

__________

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when the bells rang out, his eyes opened. They were dry and sore from crying; probably still red, too. Dorian reluctantly dragged his body out from under the fur blankets and sulked over to his mirror. Yes, definitely still red. He didn’t want to go out like that. He didn’t want to go out at all, for fear he might have to face his lost lover.

No, I didn’t lose him. Dorian stared himself down in the mirror, I pushed him away.

Dorian managed to make himself presentable, but he felt like a fraud in his own skin. He had settled into the identity of Dorian Rider, but somehow Cullen had undone all his hard work. Dorian was once again faced with himself, nothing to cover the shame he felt lying to a man who cared for him so deeply. And yet, he made no effort to tell Cullen the truth.

He would only be hurt that I lied to him, things are better this way. Interesting, the way Dorian continued attempting to convince himself he was in the right, when every part of him knew better.

Before he could psychoanalyze any further, Dorian pushed his chair back from the vanity and marched out the door, leaving his doubt at the threshold.

On the walk to the library, he felt like people were looking at him differently. They weren’t, when he looked closer, but nothing felt comfortable anymore. And things only became more uncomfortable when in the main hall Dorian’s eyes locked with golden ones on the other side of the room.

Cullen was entering the hall to the war room, papers tucked under his arm, when he glanced up, double taking before locking his gaze with Dorian’s. He wanted to run to the Commander, throw himself into the blond’s arms and apologize for everything. But melting on the other side of the hall would have to do. Cullen’s stare went soft as he saw the pain in Dorian’s eyes. They both knew the other was aching for their love, but both were too scared.

Cullen finally shook his head and looked down at his boots, disappearing into the ambassador’s office without a word.

Dorian tried to brush it off, tried to focus on his research, but to no avail. His mind was flooding with his mistakes. Though his eyes trekked the page in front of him, though his fingers turned the pages, he processed nothing. His mind was too full.

If there’s any perfect place to brood, it would be a library. Everyone passed Dorian without suspicion, assuming him to be lost in his work, all the while his crisis played out in silence. By the time the sun was setting, Dorian had read several works, but only had a page of notes. He tried to be productive, at least.

Now he had a choice to make: go back to his room and sleep his problems away, or go to the tavern and drink his problems away. Decisions, decisions.

Drowning his sorrows did sound tempting, but Dorian had pretended to be okay around enough people today. Besides, he didn’t need Bull to dive into his subconscious.

Dorian reached his quarters and, just as he prepared to shed his clothes and fall into a fitful sleep, a frantic knock rattled his door. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound. He waited a moment, but nothing more happened. Dorian slowly approached the door and unfastened the latch. Right as he did, the door flew open, nearly knocking him back.

Cullen charged into the room with a wrinkled piece of parchment strangled in his fist. He slammed the door behind him, and somehow quietly screamed, “What, by Andraste, is this?!”

He held up the letter just long enough for Dorian to see a familiar signature at the bottom of the page. “Halward Pavus.” Oh, Maker, no.

Dorian’s jaw dropped, eyes wide, hands turning clammy. He had no words, not that Cullen was interested in listening.

Cullen threw the note behind him, roughly grabbing Dorian’s shoulders and pushing him into the vanity behind them. Dorian tried to babble a “this isn’t what it looks like” before the backs of his thighs collided with the table and a pair of harsh, sweet, warm lips crashed against his.

Before he could return the kiss, or even close his eyes, Cullen pulled away and stared him down. “You really had me falling for you. Was that your plan? Get close to the Commander of the Inquisition so you could leach information from me to send back to your Venatori parents?!”

“No, Cullen, I would never—”

“You made me fall in love with you.”

That word took all Dorian’s breath. His previously pounding heart stopped. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized what he had done, the pain he caused, the trust he’d broken. This is all he wanted to prevent.

“I-I’m so sorry, I never wanted this—”

“You aren’t even going to deny it?!” Cullen stood back from him, disgust in his eyes. That look alone could ruin Dorian.

“Cullen, please! I’m not Venatori! I tried to hide because I knew you’d think a Tevinter mage was Venatori, I knew you would think I was a spy, or a thief, or—”

“Lying only makes you look guiltier, Dorian! Bull told us exactly what he was going to do if he joined the Inquisition and we took him on his word because we were desperate. If you had told us, told me the truth—”

“Would you believe a mage walking through your gates saying, ‘Yes, I am a very powerful necromancer from Tevinter, but I swear I’m not Venatori’?”

Cullen’s face contorted again, backing up further, “You’re a necromancer?”

Dorian should have held his tongue. If he had stayed quiet, would they have given him a trial? But he supposed staying quiet is what led to this mess in the first place.

“Cullen I—please, give me a moment to explain! I never wanted you to get hurt, I didn’t mean to fool you into falling for me. I promise you, I never wanted any of this!”

Cullen’s voice dropped, “You didn’t mean for me to fall in love with you?”

Dorian’s shoulders relaxed, “No—well, yes. I—I hoped you were falling too because, Cullen, I lo—”

Cullen’s jaw clenched and he nearly gripped Dorian again, taking all the strength he had to hold back. “Don’t…say it.”

“But, Cullen, I really do—”

Cullen was on him in an instant, hands digging into his hair, lips locked in a heated kiss. Passion mixed with anger and confusion as the two men lost themselves in physical sensation.

Dorian gasped for air as the kiss finally broke, Cullen asking through panting breath, “Make me believe you. Prove you’re the same man I loved.”

Dorian searched the blond’s face for something that could help him, but he found only hurt and betrayal. “I…I can’t.” he didn’t know how he could fix this, he didn’t think he could.

Tears finally fell from Cullen’s eyes as he looked to the floor, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away, not wanting Dorian to see just how much he’d hurt him.

“Get out. Take your things, food, lyrium potions. I don’t care, take whatever you want, just…”

Dorian held his breath, devastated to hear what came next, “I don’t ever want to see your face again.”

He was crushed, he felt like his legs would give out from under him. But Dorian moved as he was told, gathering his things, tears staining each item he touched.

Cullen refused to look at him, keeping his back to Dorian as the mage packed all he could.

Dorian approached the door slowly, hoping Cullen would stop him to say something more, something that could bring Dorian hope for seeing each other again. But he got no such reply.

“Don’t let anyone see you leave. I’m going to tell them you vanished into the night before I could confront you. They won’t come looking for you. Neither will I.” Cullen’s glazed eyes rose to look into Dorian’s, puffy and bloodshot. “Goodbye, Dorian.”

His heart sank. He felt like he might vomit, if he had any strength. He felt so weak and lost.

“Goodbye, Cullen.”

With those final words, Dorian was gone. He did as Cullen told him, making sure no one witnessed him leave into the dark. With nowhere else to go, he headed toward Miss Ella’s farm. Dorian didn’t know how he would tell her, but he was done lying. He’d hurt the most important person to him already, nothing could be worse.

__________

Cullen stood in the empty room with his eyes closed, hands over his face, wiping away his tears so he could pretend he wasn’t hurt. After taking a moment to compose himself, Cullen began searching the room halfheartedly. He threw open drawers without really looking, making the place look ransacked in a rush. Once he’d scattered things in a believable way, he turned his attention to the lock on the door. He took the hilt of his sword and knocked the latch loose, making it look like he had broken in. That should be enough to convince his fellow advisors.

Cullen quickly returned to the war room where many members of the inner circle, along with the Inquisitor and his advisors, waited in anticipation for the Commander’s return. As the door swung open, all heads turned toward him, each with equally expectant and worried looks. Cullen’s face was blank, but his feeling of defeat was still obvious.

“Well?” Cassandra stepped forward, worry in her eyes but anger on her face, “Where is that Venatori bastard?”

Cullen sighed deeply, the rest of the room raising their brows in unison.

“Gone. I didn’t find him in the ‘Rest or his room.”

Cassandra scoffed, “Then we send a search party. Check all corners of Skyhold, then we—”

“We can send all the search parties you want, Lady Seeker, but there’s nothing left of him here. I broke into his quarters and looked for any information as to where he could be or what he hoped to gain by joining our ranks, but I found nothing. He either took everything important with him, or destroyed it.”

Everyone’s heads fell, shoulders slouching in defeat.

The Inquisitor looked to Cullen with sadness strewn across his features. “And to think, we had all become so close…and it meant nothing to him.”

Tears threatened Cullen’s eyes again as he remembered how desperately Dorian had clung to him, tied to convince him he was innocent. But innocent men don’t hide, innocent men don’t lie.

“I know. But that must have been what he wanted. For us all to get comfortable, slowly leaking him the information he needed.” He closed his eyes tightly, shaking and dropping his head, “I should have never let him join the inner circle. I’m sorry, Inquisitor.”

The Inquisitor looked back to his party, nodding toward the door. All but the advisors exited the war room, leaving the room silent and cold. Once the space was empty of onlookers, the Inquisitor shuffled over to Cullen with wet eyes. They looked at one another for a long moment before the Inquisitor wrapped his arms around Cullen’s waist. Cullen’s eyes widened in shock, looking down at the elf hanging onto him for dear life, before he gave in and squeezed the Dalish’s shoulders in return.

They stood like that for a moment, Leliana and Josephine watching on solemnly, wrapped in their own somber embrace. The elf pulled back but stayed close, saying in a quiet voice, “He was my friend, Cullen. Our friend,” he gestured to the women behind him, “I know he was yours, too.”

Cullen felt his heart stop, then fall into the empty pit in his chest. “Yes,” he said gently, “the closest I’ve had since…in a while.”

The elf made certain the door closed quietly behind him as he left, Josephine following closely behind. Before Leliana made her move to leave as well, she handed Cullen a short stack of papers.

With a soft voice, she said, “I’m sure this isn’t the best time to tell you, but I started digging right after we intercepted the letter. I found the names of a few close friends and accomplices of the Pavus family. One of which has been heavily involved with the Venatori since before the term was coined, before they worshipped Corypheus.”

Cullen flipped through the pages, sloppily skimming the words on each one.

“Name?” Cullen asked, no nonsense.

“Gereon Alexius, a former mentor and family friend, from what I found. If Dorian had anything to do with the magicks Alexius had been developing…”

“I’ll go over it in the morning. Thank you, Leliana.” Cullen’s voice was flat and flavorless.

The spymaster sighed, placing a sympathetic hand on Cullen’s cheek, palm surprisingly warm. “I know what you felt for him. When I first joined the Hero of Ferelden on her journey…”

Cullen looked at her with understanding.

Leliana cleared her throat, never having gotten this personal with the Commander before. “Well, people have feelings that sometimes contradict with their goals. And they choose which to follow. Often, I think, they choose the wrong path.”

Cullen nodded, eyes squeezing shut with hurt.

“What I’m trying to say is this: I wonder if he didn’t lie to you about the way he felt, but knew it wouldn’t align with his plans.”

“I can’t have feelings for someone who supports the Venatori’s agenda. He fooled me, Leliana. I fell for a man that doesn’t exist.”

Leliana’s hand fell from his cheek. “Have you considered his personality may have been real?”

Cullen opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out, his brow simply furrowed.

She gave a slight smile, “Please rest, Commander. The war can wait a night.”

__________

Cullen didn’t sleep that night, his dreams plagued by images of Dorian and echoes of their final goodbyes. He could still feel the mage’s thin fingers in his hair, the passion and meaning in each kiss they shared. Cullen would wake frequently throughout the night, sweating and conflicted, his emotions at war with reality.

It was futile after a while, and only served to drain his energy more each time he woke, so he stopped trying to rest, instead making his way down to his office to mull over Leliana’s research. The blond felt hopeless as he read, not recognizing any of the names of the influential families mentioned, despite them all being connected to someone he thought he knew.

As he skimmed the next few pages—mostly filled with descriptions of how money was passed amongst the families for favors, something Josephine could use later—Cullen’s eyes paused on a description of Dorian. The quote seemed to be a letter sent from a man called Felix, to Dorian’s father:

“Lord Pavus,

My father has been rather busy with his project, so he asked me to write you in his place. Dorian has been of exponential help with his academic knowledge, but also with his experience. My father truly appreciates you continuing to allow Dorian to remain with us. As promised, he is kept an eye on, allowed only to leave the grounds with the accompaniment of myself or a guard. Speaking personally, your son is a great man. He has been nothing but honest with us, and I consider him a friend. I am starting to suspect he does not know my father’s intent with their project, and I am beginning to worry he may cease work if he discovers its purpose. Know that, should that happen, I will not stop him. Our task was to keep him from trouble, and if he deems the project as such, I will trust his judgement. My father and I have different views on these types of magicks; Dorian seems to enjoy thinking about the hypothetical, but he agrees that these things are better left to imagination. While the project is important to my father—and of course to myself, if it can work to cure me—I feel a need to allow Dorian to do what is best for himself. These are my intentions, not my father’s. He has all intentions to hold up his end of your bargain. I have made no such promises to you. Be aware of that.

Yours Truly,

Felix Alexius

P.S. Dorian asks that you do not attempt to contact him directly. He has nothing to say to you.”

Cullen could deduce two things from the letter: Felix Alexius is Gereon Alexius’s son, and whatever they were working on was magic most people have an aversion to. Could it be blood magic? What would blood magic have to do with curing someone of an ailment? Even if this Felix was possessed, blood magic could only transfer the demon to another living being, not banish it. Blood magic is a demon’s domain.

As much as he tried to focus on what information he could draw about their “project”, Cullen couldn’t help but see how devoted Felix was to Dorian. While he claimed in the letter to consider Dorian a friend, could they have been more? Another detail about Tevinter Dorian had hidden.

“Nothing but honest?” Cullen thought aloud, “If only. Would have saved me a few headaches.”

Cullen drug a hand over his face, wiping away a tear he hadn’t noticed pooling in the corner of his eye. This was harder than he thought it would be, to consider his paramour could be capable of aiding the Venatori, or even worse, being one of them.

He took a moment to collect himself before dressing in his usual armor and setting off for the war room where he would wait for the morning to fully rise and his fellow advisors to arrive.

Entering the hall leading to the war room, Cullen was greeted by Josephine at her desk looking exhausted, mulling over paper work of her own. She looked up upon hearing the door creak open and gave him a weak smile.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked knowingly, fixing her frazzled hair.

Cullen nodded, “I see you couldn’t either. Manage to dig up anything else?”

Josephine sighed, bringing a tall stack of parchment up from the floor by her feet. “There are many noble families associated with the Venatori. Most are from Tevinter, of course, but there are a surprising handful from Antiva.”

Cullen plopped into the seat in front of Josephine’s desk, about to start sorting through the things she’d dug up, when the door creaked again, Leliana leaning her head in.

“I thought I heard you up, Josie. Commander.” She nodded to Cullen in greeting.

He nodded back, handing her his notes from the morning, “I found a letter in what you gave me, from a young man named Felix. It looks like he’s Alexius’s son, and he knows what they were working on. Something big, something dangerous, something even Dorian seemed hesitant about.”

“Blood magic?” Josephine asked, walking around her desk to peer over Leliana’s shoulder.

“That was my first thought, but the people of Tevinter have a long history with blood magic; I wouldn’t think a Tevinter would have any qualms about using it. No, this must be something people don’t play with.”

The women shook their heads in unison. “Corypheus is driving his followers to play with the laws of nature.” Leliana said under her breath.

“Possibly. We need to find Alexius before he completes his project, if he hasn’t already.”

The women nodded, Josephine rushing off to wake the Inquisitor.

As the door swung closed, Leliana turned to face the Commander, kneeling on the ground before him. “Are you feeling any better? I take it you didn’t sleep well.”

Cullen shook his head, leaning forward in defeat. “I understand you have eyes everywhere around Skyhold, but how is it you knew about me and Dorian, but didn’t know Dorian was pretending to be someone else?”

Leliana sighed, crossing her legs under her, “I don’t know. I feel like I failed us, I let such a huge threat pass through our defenses. He must have been extremely careful. It…it makes me wonder if he has other correspondents in our ranks.”

Cullen nearly choked on his bitter laugh, “One thing at a time, Leliana. If there were any other Tevinters in the Inquisition, they would have fled with Dorian. They’d know they had been found out. We can look into it after we find this mentor of Dorian’s and find out what that secret project is all about.”

It didn’t seem to make the spymaster any less nervous, picking at her fingernails and staring into her lap. Cullen sighed, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, “You haven’t failed anyone. I’m the only fool here.”

Before she could reassure him, the door flew open again, the Inquisitor and Josephine holding yet more research. Cullen stood, bowing his head respectfully.

“What’s this about a secret project?” The elf asked, almost panting.

“I found a letter from Dorian’s mentor’s son describing a project using magicks none of them felt comfortable messing around with. We’ve ruled out blood magic; we think it could be something even more threatening.”

“Are we certain? Dorian seemed very against blood magic when we spoke about it. He almost looked sick talking about it.” The Inquisitor nearly snatched the letter from Cullen’s hand when offered.

“Even if those were his true feelings on the matter, blood magic is not a rarity in Tevinter, and even this mentor and his son seemed hesitant.” Cullen explained, pointing to his notes in the margins.

The elf sighed, sitting in Cullen’s now vacant seat. “This is bad. So bad.”

“Yes…” Cullen sat as well.

After a long silence where the room seemed as tired as the people in it, Josephine spoke up.

“Should we start work on a plan of attack?”

“I’ll see if I can hunt Alexius down. Maybe find his son, if I can’t find the man himself.” Leliana was already heading back to her nook to send out spies.

The Inquisitor absentmindedly nodded, approving but reluctant. “I’ll see who wants to come along to fight an insane Venatori with some mystical secret magic. Wish me luck.” He stood and shuffled toward the door.

“Cullen, form a small band of troops. Some of the more talented Templars, if you could. I have a feeling we’ll require their abilities.”

“Yes, Ser.” Cullen said bluntly, watching the Inquisitor as he exited.

Josephine and Cullen turned to one another. “I’ll see if anyone is willing to trade their honor for a bribe. I suppose we’ll regroup after we’ve all finished. Stay strong, Commander.”

“Thank you, Josephine. I will certainly do my best.” Cullen gave a respectful bow before leaving the ambassador to her work.

As he walked down the main hall, ready to turn left through Solas’s quarters toward his office, Cullen noticed the light breeze coming from a door to his right. He glanced over and saw the garden mostly empty before the door swung shut again. He could use to clear his head.

So he turned right instead, stepping out into the garden. Cullen breathed in and held it, letting the silence wash over him. He let the breath out and began slowly pacing the garden. He brushed his gloved fingertips across the leaves in the herb planters, watched on as a bird drank from the well, and stepped over the line of ants making their way to their hill. But when he reached the gazebo, he stopped.

Cullen looked on solemnly at the chess board, pieces still set as they were when he and Dorian had played, a few knocked over from wind. Cullen sat in his seat and stared across to where Dorian should have been. He’d looked so beautiful that day, the sun backlighting and outlining his face. He had still had a sheen of sweat from sparring, glistening off his toned arms and neck. Cullen heaved a long sigh before moving one of Dorian’s pieces forward.

“Check mate,” He whispered, “You got me, Dorian.”

After a moment Cullen stood, making his way into the small Chantry set up in one of the rooms off the garden. Andraste’s likeness watched him as he entered, false golden eyes seeming to follow him. Cullen gently lowered himself onto a knee, clasping his hands in front of his face before the shrine.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this properly.” He admitted.

Cullen proceeded to recite the Chant of Light and several prayers for the men and women he would be taking with him to battle. One for the Inquisitor, one for himself, one for his friends, and one for his family.

Before he stood, Cullen closed his eyes tightly. “He may not deserve it,” he said softly, quietly, “but Maker please, keep Dorian safe. I doubt more and more the decision I made sending him away. I should have let him say his piece. I didn’t know Dorian Pavus, but I knew my Dorian. There has to be something of the man I loved in there. It couldn’t have all been a lie. He cried for me, he told me he didn’t want to hurt me. I can’t bear the thought of it all having been manipulation. Please, wherever he is, keep him safe.”

__________

Cullen would have preferred it hadn’t taken as long as it did, but here they were two days later with plans sprawled out on the war table. Each advisor had done their work quickly but surely, getting as close to the truth as they could in such a short time frame. Cullen had his Templar volunteers and a solid fighting strategy, Leliana had her eye witnesses, and Josephine had her bribed sources.

As the Inquisitor wrapped up the meeting, all attendees on board with the plan, he asked, “Any final questions?” Hesitant to move forward with their search.

The room had a sad sort of silence, none of them sure they would return safely, or return at all. They had been lucky since Haven to avoid any true life or death battles, but they were all well aware this would be like no fight they had fought before.

With the lack of any remaining questions to help him stall, Lavellan turned to Cullen with soft eyes. “Are you ready, Commander?”

After a deep, deep breath, He nodded. They were all on their horses and off in an instant, Skyhold’s gates behind them reminding them there was no turning back.

Hours later, after following the directions Leliana’s spies could write out with any certainty, the party found themselves passing through Redcliffe Farms, past the stables and the druffalo, to a fork splitting the trotted path in two.

“This way, I think.” The Inquisitor said, checking the written description again.

“Are you sure?” Cullen chimed in quickly, riding up to align their horses so he could glance over the elf’s shoulder. “The only thing up the hill is the watchtower. A stream beyond that. I expect if the Venatori were holed up there, the stable master and his wife would have noticed. Certainly our guards in the tower would have seen them come and go.”

Lavellan chewed the inside of his lip as he became less convinced they weren’t out on a wild goose chance. “The reports just say ‘Venatori activity traced back to Redcliffe Farms. Suspected to be in Dead Ram Grove.”

Increasingly frustrated by the vague intel they had managed to scrounge up practically overnight, Cullen let out a scoff. “Dead Ram Grove is the start of the stream, where the water flows down from the mountains. The only thing there is water and sheep. Obviously Leliana’s helpers need their heads examined. It’s pointless to even look.”

As Cullen turned his horse around, ready to head back to the farm and ask around, the Templars all perked up in unison.

“Commander,” Barris pulled his horse to block Cullen’s path. “There is magic here. It’s faint, not like a mage is present, but a spell they left behind. Whether they remain here, or have since left the area, I still believe it’s worth investigating.”

Cullen looked over his shoulder for conformation, the Inquisitor already leading the group ahead. While he trusted Barris’s sense for magic, Cullen also felt dread, part of him hoping they wouldn’t find anything Venatori related. Or at least nothing that would confirm Dorian’s connection to them. But he followed dutifully, returning to his position right next to the Inquisitor.

As they passed the watch tower overlooking the farm, and led their horses to wade through the water as they followed upstream, Cullen’s heart raced. The Templars continued to sense lingering magic, perhaps even an active enchantment; a ward meant to hide things in plain sight.

“Dispell,” Cullen commanded, Barris and his soldiers taking deep swigs of lyrium. Cullen averted his eyes as they did.

Moving as one, the Templars gave two hardy hits each to their shields, and a shock wave erupted out from their group. It made no noise, but bounced off the walls of Dead Ram Grove like an echo. The party stayed silent in waiting.

Distant voices could be heard speaking Tavene.

Cullen and Lavellan whipped their heads around to look at each other with wide eyes. “Venatori!”

Hurried but quiet, the party leapt off their horses, loosely draping their reins over branches to keep the steeds in place. They followed the voices to a low cliff overlooking the grove. There was little foot traffic, with overgrown grass and weeds, dead trees leaning to make a morbid arch. As they inched closer, a small sconce lit on its own, causing the Inquisitor to jump.

He took a hesitant step forward, narrowing his eyes at the greenish blue flame. “Veil fire.” He whispered behind him. “That means mages.”

Part of Cullen’s heart sank. While he knew this would lead them to gaining an edge against Corypheus, a selfish part of him wanted them to find nothing, so he would never learn more about just how much Dorian had lied to him.

Entering the ruins of what must have been an old exit from the deep roads, massive stone pillars loomed, along with menacing statues of cloaked skeletons driving their swords into the ground. The group felt uneasy, each member fidgeting and glancing to every corner of the room. It was dark, but the light from outside showed them a staircase leading even further into the earth, and further into darkness.

Cullen blocked the Inquisitor from continuing, rather taking the lead himself to protect the elf from a possible ambush. Making their way forward only led them to darker and darker rooms, no torches in sight, only dim Veil fires that continued to flare up ominously as they approached each sconce.

Just as they entered the final room of the cave ruin, Cullen starting to think there may be nothing here after all, the room came to life, sconces bursting into multicolored flames, illuminating the space to reveal that they were surrounded.

“Inquisitor,” a dark figure in Tevinter robes grinned smugly from a ruined throne at the far end of the room. “Welcome.”

“Sheath your weapons,” the surrounding mages demanded, drawing ever closer with staves outstretched.

The party looked to Lavellan for instruction, and he nodded, returning his sword to his back. The group followed suit.

“We were beginning to wonder if you might realize how close we had drawn. Corypheus sends his regards.” The mage stood from his seat, tossing back his hood and crossing his arms behind him.

“Oh, we found you out quickly,” Lavellan snarled, “Your little spy wasn’t as stealthy as he thought. Maybe you should handle your correspondents’ communications more carefully.”

The Tevinter’s brow raised, looking surprised, but always taunting. “My ‘spy’?” he inquired with a lilted voice, “Do tell, Inquisitor.”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “No need to play coy, Alexius. We intercepted Magister Pavus’s attempts to contact his son, whom you so clumsily slipped into our ranks.” Cullen’s bitterness and blame had all lifted off of Dorian in that moment as he directed his hurt onto Alexius, the man responsible for all this heartbreak in the first place, as far as Cullen was concerned.

“Magister Pavus’s son?” Alexius’s grin dropped, “You speak of Dorian, Commander?”

Cullen flinched at the mention of the mage’s name.

Alexius looked to the throne behind him, tracing a finger along the arm. “My poor Dorian; if only he could have seen the good he could achieve. Not only for Tevinter, for the world.”

Cullen was in shock at what he was hearing. If Alexius hadn’t sent Dorian to the Inquisition, then who did? Could all that Dorian said, that fateful night on which he was banished from Cullen’s sight, be true after all? From where he stood, all Cullen could see was a backlit outline, but the mage before them began to make an obvious, sinister movement toward his pocket.

“What Dorian never realized, what I tried to teach him through our research, is that Thedas…Thedas needs direction,” his voice was low as he turned, eyes glistening with intent, knowing he had won.

“Thedas needs control.”

Blue light began sparking in the mage’s palm, lighting his crazed expression from below, broken sounds of laughter escaping his lips as he raised his hand higher.

The Inquisitor and Cullen watched on with masked fear as a small talisman on a leather cord began to rise on its own from the palm of Alexius’s hand, crackling in an unstable, uncontrolled manner. Just as dread and the weight of their own mortality began washing over the party, a voice called out from a shadowy corner:

“No! I won’t let you do this.”

The blue cast vanished at once, the talisman dropping from its ominous floating and back into the mage’s hand. Alexius whipped his neck around, eyes worried and shocked at once, obviously recognizing the voice. The young man had dark, tired eyes as he revealed himself from the dark. His skin lacked color, and his hair was thin. He looked as if he had lived a man’s full life in only a few years, and he was exhausted.

“Felix!” Alexius ran to the young man’s side. “My son, you should be resting, you’re too weak; you look so pale!”

Cullen’s shoulders relaxed as he heard the familiar name. “Felix?” he said quietly, then directing his question to the man himself, “You were friends with Dorian, weren’t you?”

Felix pushed past his father, standing before the party with confidence. “I am. I know him well, and I know he would never have helped with your project if he knew what you planned to use it for.” He turned to face Alexius, pointing an accusing finger. “You lied to him! You lied to me! You said this was for my health, that you thought this could save me! You betrayed his trust, my trust!”

His eyes went somber as he quietly asked, “What would mother think?”

That sent Alexius into a rage, shouting furiously, “This could bring her back! Both of you would be safe, healthy, happy! I did this all for you both!”

Tears began to well in his eyes as Felix retorted, voice meek and sad, “No. She would have never wanted this.”

Alexius became irate, nostrils flaring and fists clenching, “How dare you!!” he screamed. “You have the opportunity to have your mother back, to have never lost her at all, and you tell me she would never want this? You stand before me, your own father, who has loved and raised you single handedly since she passed, telling me this isn’t all for you?!”

“Raised me? Single handedly?! What about all the days, even weeks, I went without seeing you because you were too hung up on your project? Too lost in the past to spend time with your own son? After my mother died in front of my eyes!”

Alexius’s hands began to burn with fire, the talisman feeding off of his rage and sparking once again. “You would be in the grave with her if it weren’t for me! All that research, just to keep you alive for all these years! You would have died within days of her if it weren’t for all my time spent in that damned laboratory, slaving over revolutionary medicines I now learn you weren’t even grateful for!”

“I wish I had died with her!” Felix’s cry echoed through the stone of the ruin walls. “I’ve been suffering for years! I feel the Blight eating away at me from the inside every moment I continue to breathe! You have no idea the pain you’ve put me through!”

The room fell silent, Alexius thinking on his son’s hurtful words.

“Well,” he said after a long while, voice raspy with emotion, “If my magic can’t serve to help you,” he clenched the talisman with ferocity, “It will serve Corypheus just fine!”

The room lit with blue lightening, the talisman flying into the center of the space and igniting with quick bursts of magical energy, barely controlled. Alexius howled with mad laughter, arms outstretched to feed the talisman with all his mana, fueling the chaotic reaction.

“Father, No!” Felix screamed, throwing himself at Alexius, tackling him to the ground.

While the Venatori were distracted, all watching in awe at the display of power destabilizing in the center of the room, the Inquisitor sprinted forward, drawing his sword and charging to take Alexius out for good. But, from the corner of his eye as he wrestled with his own son, Alexius spotted the elf’s attack. He managed to get a hand free from Felix, commanding the talisman to explode with a magical fury of light spiritual wisps, imploding inward on itself, sucking the Inquisitor in as he screamed in agony, his every essence torn across time and space. Cullen and the Templars watched on in abject horror, Lavellan’s blood curdling cries echoing in their minds.

Though the Inquisitor was gone, his blade continued his momentum, flying across the room and driving directly into Alexius’s shoulder, causing him to tumble off Felix and crash onto the stone floor.

“Venatori! Attack the Inquisitor’s reinforcements!!” Alexius hollered as he stumbled off to his escape.

“Retreat!” Cullen commanded, tailing Barris and the rest of the Templars as they fled, defending them against attacks from behind as they fought through the Venatori hoard before them.

Once there was a hole in the opposition’s defense, Cullen called out, “To the watchtower! Tell them to fire on the river! Shoot anything that moves!”

The Commander fought off those trying to prevent their escape, helping his team push to the ruin entrance. When they reached the threshold, each member jumped back onto their horses, galloping off to the watchtower and the camp just beyond Redcliffe Farms for backup.

“Open fire! Venatori!” Barris yelled to the watchtower guards. A shower of arrows came down almost instantly, flying just behind their horses, taking out many of the Venatori swordsmen. But the mages hadn’t left the mouth of the ruin, and Cullen was right there waiting for them. Dodging the hail of arrows and trying not to fall off the short cliff, Cullen fought back as many of the mages as he could while he waited for backup from the camp. Barris came riding back in just in time to save Cullen’s back from an attack he didn’t see coming.

As their numbers dwindled, it became easier for the Templars to dispel almost all the defensive magicks the Venatori were using, causing the remaining few mages to panic and retreat back into the ruin, following Alexius’s escape route.

Exhausted, but still on edge, Cullen and Barris’s Templars made their way back to the farm to regroup and process what had just happened. What had happened to the Inquisitor?

As they rounded the corner to check on the guards at the watchtower, Cullen heard footsteps running up behind them.

“There’s a straggler!” He called out, pulling out his sword and shield again, ready to strike.

“No, don’t shoot! I want to help you!”

Cullen stayed poised as he watched the man come into view. It was Felix, panting and running toward them, unarmed.

“What did you do with the Inquisitor?!” Cullen inched closer to Felix, still not convinced he could let his guard down.

Felix stopped several feet away, leaving enough room so Cullen felt unthreatened. He raised his hands above his head to show he meant no harm. “He’s not dead, I can promise that much, but I don’t know where he is.” His hands lowered as he scratched his chin in contemplation. “Well, that’s not quite what I mean. I know where he is; he’s here.”

Cullen’s sword and shield lowered and he looked at Felix with confusion.

“What I should say is: I don’t know when he is.”

Frustrated, Cullen ground his teeth, “Enough being cryptic! Just tell us where Alexius took him!”

Felix shook his head. “This is going to take a lot of explaining, and it will sound outlandish, but you have to believe me. I was there when my father and Dorian developed this, I know how it—”

“Spit it out!” Barris barked, now standing next to Cullen, also ready to fight.

Felix sighed, “He sent the Inquisitor through time.”

The Templars looked around at each other, none having heard of such magic before.

“Don’t lie to us, boy! We have you surrounded.” Barris raised his shield in preparation before his arm was pushed down.

“He isn’t,” Cullen held Barris back, then sheathing his own weapon and shield. “When we first suspected Dorian was Tevinter, Leliana found the letter we all read in the mission briefing. The letter was written by Felix, and he said the magic they were experimenting with was magic no one had ever considered manipulating before. Because it’s dangerous; one doesn’t just mess with the laws of nature.”

“You saw my letter? To Dorian’s father? So that’s how you knew of me, and that I know Dorian.” Felix approached slowly as he connected the dots. “So you must see now: Dorian knew he was developing a way to manipulate time, but he thought it was for me. He ran away, here to Ferelden, the moment my father started to speak of joining the Venatori. And he would never have helped in the first place if it wasn’t a matter of life and death.”

Cullen looked Felix up and down, taking in his thin frame, eaten away at by something inside of him. “You said in there that you’re sick. Is it really the Blight? I’ve never seen anyone survive past a day, let alone a year.”

Felix nodded sadly, eyes going even darker, “Yes. While my father is no healer, he is an excellent alchemist, and created many medicines to try and help me while he worked on a more permanent solution to curing me. That’s when he…recruited Dorian to help. It was more like blackmail, but Dorian just wanted to help me.” He looked down at his hands, wringing them nervously. “He was like a brother to me. He never knew this would happen.”

Barris lowered his weapons completely, but would not sheath them. “Then…did you send Dorian to the Inquisition?”

Felix’s eyes went wide, “No, I never even knew he joined. I haven’t been able to contact him for months. It was too risky, I couldn’t have my father knowing I planned to stop him. Dorian always said he would be by my side on that day, But after we lost touch…”

Cullen felt his shoulders relax; Dorian wasn’t Venatori! What a relief. But he felt no relief, as just as the revelation swept over him, another realization came to tighten his chest. He drove Dorian away for nothing. He broke the mage’s heart, and his own, based on assumptions.

“I never let him say his piece…” Cullen thought aloud.

“What?” Barris turned to him, finally putting his weapons away. “You spoke to Dorian? When?”

Cullen wiped a hand over his face before glancing over to Felix. “It looks like the two of us have a lot of explaining to do.”

__________

As they rode their horses back to Skyhold, Barris in the lead and Cullen protecting the rear of the group, Felix tapped Cullen’s shoulder from behind.

“Cullen, is it? Could I ask you something?” Felix said as he shifted uncomfortably on the back of Cullen’s saddle.

“You’ll call me Commander until we know we can trust you.”

“I didn’t mean any disrespect, Commander, I assure you.”

Cullen had to stop himself from groaning. He would have liked to say he was angry, but the only thing jumping around in his mind was confusion. The only thing he was angry about was his decision. And frankly, he was tired of thinking about it. He was only making himself feel worse.

“Just ask your question.”

Felix nodded and asked, “I hadn’t heard from Dorian after his initial letter telling me he had arrived in Ferelden. I’m missing a lot of time between then and now. Could you tell me what happened that led to you believing Dorian was Venatori?”

Cullen heaved a deep sigh, “It’s not a short list of events, I’ll warn you.”

Felix chuckled, “We’ve nothing but time at the moment.”

“I suppose,” Cullen half-heartedly agreed.

When he finished catching Felix up to speed, the young man was silent for a long while, mulling over the details.

“It sounds like Dorian trusted you.” He prodded.

Cullen dropped his gaze to the reins in his tightly fisted hands. “I know I trusted him. I thought he had betrayed my trust when we intercepted his father’s letter, but I…” He squeezed his eyes closed, “I said things I wish I hadn’t. Things I didn’t mean. I know now that I betrayed him, just because I wouldn’t listen.”

“I still can’t believe you spoke to him before he vanished.” Barris chimed in from the front of the formation. “You lied to the entire Inquisition! Even your friends. That’s me I’m talking about, by the way. You lied to me.”

“I know.” Cullen sighed, “I’m sorry. I just…wanted to make sure he was safe. I didn’t know what the Inquisitor would do to him. But I guess it couldn’t have been much worse than what I did…” Cullen’s voice fell off as he remembered all the things he said.

I don’t ever want to see your face again…

Entering Skyhold’s gate led them directly into a crowd of people wanting to congratulate the Inquisitor on defeating the hidden Venatori forces. But when Cullen passed under the arch and into the courtyard with the Inquisitor’s empty horse led behind him, all the chattering stopped.

“Where is Lavellen?” Cassandra asked with worry. And as Cullen’s horse turned to reveal the second passenger, “And who is that?” She growled.

Cullen lowered himself off the horse, pointedly not offering Felix any help to get down, which he did ungracefully.

As he handed the reins off to a stable hand, Cullen told the Seeker, “Call a war meeting.”

__________

“You WHAT?” The ladies exclaimed in unison.

Cullen drug a hand over his face, leaning on the war table and sighing before he said, “I know it was stupid of me, but Dorian isn’t Venatori, so there’s no danger in him being out there on his own.”

“But you didn’t know that when you sent him away!” Josephine shouted, as much as the mild-mannered woman could.

“Look,” Cullen closed his eyes tightly, pinching the space between his brows, “I lied. I lied to all of you and put you in danger because I let myself get too close. I considered Dorian a friend. I didn’t want him to be in danger in the hands of the Inquisition. I’m sorry. I know I was reckless, and I’m sorry.”

The room fell quiet as the women looked to one another, silently acknowledging Cullen’s apology.

Cullen continued after recognizing the soft looks in their eyes. “But what we need to do now is find him. He’s the only one who might know how to get Lavellen back.”

“Dorian can reverse engineer a spell better than anyone I’ve ever met,” Felix added, “He’ll be able to undo this. I’m certain.”

“Well, mister ‘best friend’,” Leliana turned to Felix, annoyed that he had cut in, “Where do you propose we start our search?”

Felix took a second to think. “In his initial letter, to tell me he had arrived, Dorian mentioned he was staying with an older woman in the Hinterlands. He simply called her ‘Miss Ella’. She has a small farm, he said. I haven’t heard from him since then, so that would be my only guess.”

Cullen nodded, “Even if he’s not staying with her, he might be hiding out nearby. Runaways tend to return to places they know first.”

“I trust your ability to hunt down a mage, Commander.” Cassandra said, too dry to tell if she was joking.

But before the hunt could begin, all of Skyhold needed rest and time to absorb the news of the Inquisitor’s disappearance. No rest came to Cullen, however; as if he expected it to. His mind and heart were racing. What if they couldn’t find Dorian? Who would be able to bring back the Inquisitor?

And what if they did find Dorian? Would he forgive Cullen for what he had said? Would he attack or flee?

Worst of all: what if they found his body? Just another casualty of the war between the Templars and mages. Another victim to Corypheus’s forces.

Cullen squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to clear the image from his mind. He couldn’t bear the thought that his final words to Dorian would be his banishment, never able to redeem himself. Never able to beg for Dorian’s forgiveness.

With his eyes still closed, Cullen heard footsteps drawing casually closer, not trying to sneak, but also cautious.

“Can’t sleep either?” the voice was still slightly distant, not wanting to get too close. Cullen opened his eyes to see Felix, immediately skeptical as to why he was being allowed to walk the castle on his own.

Felix read his expression and chuckled. “Your spymaster has someone tailing me. The Lady Seeker isn’t far behind either. You don’t have to worry, I’m not here to assassinate you or something.”

“Who knows, I might welcome it at this point,” Cullen said under his breath.

Felix’s brow pushed together, “What happened between you and Dorian?”

After a long moment of staring through Felix, the Commander dropped his gaze to his folded fingers leaning on the battlements. “He was incredible to watch. So skilled with magic and combat; it was mesmerizing.” Cullen lifted his head to look up at the stars above. “And intelligent, as well. I enjoyed talking with him about the books he was reading, and the documents I was trudging through. He never looked away while I spoke.”

Felix gave a soft smile, looking to the heavens himself. “I know exactly what you mean. Dorian loves to talk about his research and learn what others have been studying. It made him a great student, one of the reasons he caught my father’s attention as a sponsor.”

A silence fell between the men as they both remembered their friend fondly. Cullen quietly asked, “Can you tell me about the Dorian you knew?”

Felix cocked his head curiously.

“I’d like to know if any of him was the real him.”

A sympathetic smile warmed Felix’s expression. “You described Dorian pretty perfectly just then. Always willing to debate—or argue, whichever he would get the most satisfaction from—and always showing off. He pretends to be self-centered, but he’s the most caring man I’ve ever met. And while I’m not interested in men myself, I don’t think there’s a person in all of Thedas who can deny Dorian’s charm.” Felix chuckled once, “Always the flirt, that one.”

Cullen’s heart dropped. “So he flirted with everyone?” He asked in a whisper, not really meaning it as a question. But Felix still answered.

“He did, but there were always different kinds. It took me long to learn each of them.” Feeling more comfortable with their relations, Felix approached the battlements himself and leaned his hip on the stonework, crossing his arms and looking out over the mountains. “There are four types, so far as I could tell: for showmanship, for de-escalation, for banter, and for real. The showmanship is self-explanatory, Tevinter is built around relationships and marriages. Dorian had to faine interest in his women suitors to keep up appearances. De-escalation, just flirting to calm an argument. Telling people what they want to hear, you know. And of course a little flattery back and forth between friends was his favorite.”

“How could you tell if he ever meant it?” Cullen asked, hopeful.

Felix ran a hand over his hair as he thought. “Dorian is a very honest man, most of what he says he always means, even if he doesn’t say it directly. He might think a noble woman is quite pretty, for example, and rather than tell her flatly, he will go out of his way to make her smile by flirting. ‘By the Black Divine, my lady, have you any common blood to Andraste herself? You have striking eyes, just like hers! And those cheekbones, they could surely cut marble!’ He likes to make people smile.”

“And he’s very good at it,” Cullen couldn’t help the fond grin that spread his lips.

“That he is.” Felix agreed, finding himself with a smile of his own as he reminisced.

__________

Cullen stood silent with his head down, fist poised to knock against the solid wood door before him. He hadn’t had to do something like this since Kirkwall; sharing the tragic news of a Templar’s death with their family. Somehow, this felt similar, having to tell someone Dorian clearly cared about, that he wasn’t who he said. But at least he didn’t have to tell her Dorian was a Venatori spy.

He took a final deep breath before giving a hardy knock. It took only seconds for Miss Ella to answer, like she had been waiting by the door. The door swung open with an audible whoosh, to reveal an older woman with joy in her cheeks, giving way to pleasant confusion when he looked Cullen up and down.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was expecting someone else. Is there something I can do for you, dear?” A sweet smile wrinkled the skin around her eyes.

Cullen couldn’t help but give a small smile back before clearing his throat and beginning to explain, “Commander Cullen, at your service, ma’am. We are looking for a troop previously employed in our…”

Cullen’s eyes squeezed tightly shut and he sighed, “Dorian. He stayed with you for a while, didn’t he?” He dropped his voice to a whisper so the others couldn’t hear his informality.

Miss Ella reared back a little, bringing the door closer to her so she could close it at any time. “I...oh, I rent my spare room to travelers, I suppose a ‘Dorian’ could have passed through--”

“Ma’am, please. You’re not in any trouble. Neither of you are, we just…” He couldn’t look the sweet woman in the eyes as he said, “I made a mistake. It came to our attention that he had been lying about his past, and I handled it very poorly. If he’s been back here...please, we need his help.”

Miss Ella still didn’t seem convinced, opening her lips to give a vague excuse. Cullen decided to show a little urgency.

“Ma’am, the Inquisitor is missing. Kidnapped, or otherwise incapacitated by the Venatori.”

Miss Ella gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. “Did...did he do it?”

“No, while Dorian is from Tevinter, as we found out, he has nothing to do with the Venatori. But he knows about their magic, and we need him to help us get the Inquisitor back.”

She took a moment to process before stepping aside in the doorway and beckoning them all to enter. Cullen, Felix, and Cassandra crammed into the small farmhouse, while Barris and his templars waited outside. Only Felix accepted an offer of tea.

“He did come back, but he didn’t come inside,” Miss Ella recalled as he stirred honey into Felix’s tea. “He made it nearly to the welcome mat, but no further, and said he was sorry. That he couldn’t stay because I wouldn’t be safe, and it was better if he kept the truth to himself, because he didn’t want to involve me. I figured he must have people after him, so I was expecting a visit, but not from the Inquisition.”

Tempted to sit, but ignoring the urge to slump into any nearby furniture, Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck, “Yes, well, while I’m not at liberty to say much, I made a rather large mistake that--”

“To which are you referring?” Cassandra asked with her arms crossed, scowl doned.

Cullen glowered back and continued, “...that put us all in danger. Dorian included.”

Cassandra let her arms drop, brow softening as she recognized Cullen’s regret.

“Well, as I said, he didn’t stay here long. He headed in the direction of Redcliffe, not taking the roads but going through the woods.”

They stayed long enough for Felix to finish his tea, then they were on their way north to Redcliffe, taking as odd a way they could in hopes of coming across Dorian’s trail.

After nearly an hour of trudging, one of Barris’s templars stopped.

“I smell viel fire.”

Cassandra looked at Cullen with a quirked brow. “Are you certain? How can you tell it isn’t just fire?”

Barris nodded, “I smell it too. It’s like fire but without the smoke, just the heat.”

“Any wards?” Cullen asked.

“None. It shouldn’t be hard to find him if we follow our noses.”

Cullen nodded, letting Barris lead the charge. Soon after, the group came across a very small clearing, staying in the trees to keep cover.

There in the center of the brush, surrounded by wildflowers, sat Dorian, playing with the green flames before him, deep in thought.

Cullen stared longingly, wishing he could just run out and hug the mage, hold him and never let go.

“I’ll go. You all wait here.” Cullen began pushing branches aside.

“You don’t think he’ll give you any trouble?” Barris held him back.

“No, but he will panic if he sees a group of templars coming out of the bushes at him.”

Cullen took a deep breath for courage and stepped out into the sun.

It only took a few steps before Dorian shot out of his seat and grabbed his staff, summoning a ball of fire in his hand. Cullen put his hands up, away from his sword and shield. Slowly, Dorian recognized the blond hair, honey eyes, and marble skin. His guard lowered along with his staff, but only slightly.

“C...Cullen?”

Cullen let out a sigh of relief, lowering his hands and taking a step forward.

“Stop!” Dorian yelled, “This is some kind of trick isn’t it? So what type of demon are you, hm? Rage? Envy? Desire?”

Cullen’s eyes went wide before his brow furrowed with worry, “No, Dorian it’s...it’s me. It’s Cullen.”

Dorian scoffed, “No, that’s not possible. He told me he never…” he swallowed hard. “never wanted to see me again.”

Cullen flinched at his words, seeing how much they had hurt. “I didn’t mean any of it, I swear. I was just scared, I didn’t think before I spoke, and I hurt you. I’m...Dorian, I’m so sorry.”

Cullen watched as emotions came and went in rapid succession across Dorian’s face.

“Make me believe you.” The mage whispered. “Prove you're the same man I loved.”

Those words. They struck him like a knife in the chest, tearing his heart out. Those were his words.

“I can’t…” Cullen whispered back.

Dorian’s staff fell abruptly into the grass, the fire in his hand disappearing into embers as he ran to Cullen. He wrapped his arms around the blond’s shoulders, Cullen returning the embrace just as tightly.

They pulled back, only to bring the other closer into a crashing kiss, tears spilling over onto both men’s cheeks.

“Dorian,” Cullen choked, “I’m so sorry, I said so many things I didn’t mean. I should have listened to you. Maker, I’m so--”

Dorian put a finger to the blond’s lips, then brought his to meet them. “I love you.”

Cullen’s eyes only watered more as he leaned their foreheads together and said, with all his heart. “I love you too.”

They both heard the trees opening from behind them, glancing that way to see Cassandra and Barris with his band of templars.

And Felix.

Dorian’s face lit up as he ran to meet his friend. “Felix!”

Their chests collided as each man wrapped an arm over the shoulder and around the waist of the other.

While the two were updating one another on what had happened between seeing each other last, Cassandra approached Cullen with an annoyed huff.

"So that's why you let him go." She crossed her arms.

Cullen sighed, turning to face her. "Yes," he stated, "because I didn't want him thrown in our prisons, because I didn't want him questioned for hours without rest. Because I love him. Is that what you want me to say?"

The corner of the Seeker's lips turned up on one side, barely a smile at all. She placed her hand on Cullen’s shoulder. "Yes. And I'm glad you do."

It took him off guard, but Cullen was grateful for Cassandra's understanding. He knew she read those romance novels--Varric made sure to boast about it to everyone in Skyhold--but he never expected Cassandra of all people to be forgiving.

Suddenly her face went stern. Pulling her hand away and pointing a finger, she whispered through clenched teeth, "Don't tell anyone I said that. As far as Josephine and Leliana need to know, I'm still angry with you."

Cullen tried not to grin as he nodded.

He turned back to Dorian and Felix who laughed together as Dorian placed a kiss to Felix's cheek. Cullen smiled as he watched them reconnect, a warmth filling his chest.

"I hate to interrupt a reunion," Barris cut in, "but we have grave news about the Inquisitor."

"The Inquisitor?" Dorian looked to Felix, "Your father. He didn't…"

Felix cringed as he nodded, head dropping, eyes closed tightly.

Dorian slumped, arm falling off Felix's shoulders. Cullen came behind him to place a comforting hand on his back.

"He's not dead, is he?" Dorian asked with a heaviness in his breath.

"We...we don't know." Cullen brought Dorian in by the waist, hugging him from the side. "Alexius used an amulet to...send him through time, was it?" He looked over to Felix to make sure he had gotten it right.

"So he finished it." Dorian's eyes widened with fear.

"No!" Felix put himself between Cullen and the mage, "He could never perfect it after you left. Something went wrong when he cast the spell; it wasn't like when you did it."

"You've traveled through time?" Cullen pushed Felix aside to ask Dorian.

Dorian grinned, "What? Never been with a man who invented time travel? Oh, no, of course not, how silly. Because I invented it."

"Dorian." Cullen said sternly, looking for a straight answer.

"No, I didn't go through time. Alexius and I sent an apple core a week forward in time and it came back rotten." As he gave the explanation, a wave of realization washed over Dorian, "But what's when the spell didn't work!" He grabbed Cullen but the hands with excitement. "The plan was to wipe the apple from existence, and only those who cast the spell would remember there ever having been an apple there. The fact that you all remember the Inquisitor proves the spell failed!"

"But how do we know where--when he is?" Barris asked, trying to keep up.

Dorian let go of Cullen's hands to twirl his mustache in thought. "Ah! Have you any paper, my love?"

Cullen grabbed some parchment and charcoal from one of the templars' satchels.

Dorian took the supplies eagerly, kneeling down to use his seat as a writing surface. "Look here," Dorian pulled Cullen in close as he drew a diagram, "We don't know when the Inquisitor is in time, yes? But we do know where. He'll be exactly where he was transported from."

Cullen nodded, following so far.

"So we need to go back to where and, somehow, enter the fade because--"

"Because time doesn't exist in the fade." Cullen cut in, "You can feel for his spirit and pull it back through the veil from the other side of time!"

Dorian smiled, excited that Cullen understood, "Well, I can't. While I studied the dead, I don't have any control over the spirits I use to possess the bodies. But I know someone who does."

"Solas." Cullen, Barris, and Cassandra said together.

__________

Back at Skyhold, they explained the plan to Solas, Cullen's fellow advisors still suspiciously eyeing Dorian.

"I'm impressed with your knowledge of the fade, Dorian. Yet you've never entered it, is that right?" Solas sipped at his coffee.

"I still have my sanity, that should be a dead give away."

Solas grinned, "Indeed. And yet you understand its properties well. And this plan of yours is nearly fool proof."

"Nearly?" Cullen leaned in, "We need better than nearly. We need the Inquisitor back."

Solas held up a hand to calm him, "Nearly is the best place to start. I can help you, but the Inquisitor's spirit isn't the only thing on the other side of time. We need to find his body. Both were transported, were they not?"

Dorian nodded, "Yes, that's where I'm uncertain. Can he enter the fade without performing the ritual himself?"

"Do you know the Arl of Redcliffe, Commander?" Solas asked, hands behind his back as he rounded the desk.

"You're talking about the incident with Conor and Bann Tegan. I've heard the story." He watched Solas with suspicious curiosity.

"I am. There is a way to perform the ritual on another, without entering the fade yourself…"

Cullen's eyes went wide, "No! No one is doing any blood magic!"

"Blood magic?" Dorian looked to Solas with anger. "You're suggesting I perform a blood ritual on the Inquisitor? Nonsense!"

Solas shrugged, "That is the only way I know of to return both the Inquisitor's soul and body as one."

Dorian scratched his chin as he tried to think of another way. "If I had the amulet here…"

Felix perked up, "What if I could get it from my father?"

The room looked over to Felix.

"What? Is it safe after what you did to help us?" Cullen asked.

Felix shook his head, "My father may not be in his right mind, but he's always been a father first. If I need him, he will be there with open arms."

Dorian slowly walked to Felix. "You'd steal from your own father for us?"

Felix smiled, "I would steal sweets from his personal stash for you all the time."

Dorian smiled and gave him a hardy thump on the shoulder. "Then we need to head back to Dead Ram Grove."

The day had been long and exhausting, and while time was of the essence, they all needed rest.

But Cullen couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in an attempt to find a comfortable spot, but to no avail. Finally, he decided it wasn't worth fighting and went for a walk to think.

He walked the battlements until he was sick of looking at stone walls. When he got back to his office, no more ready to sleep than before, he thought of Dorian, how he had so much more he wanted to say, and so many more apologies to make.

Heading across the bridge to the library, Cullen tried to be as quiet as possible opening the door to Solas's floor. The door creaked ever so slightly, and Cullen heard a calming voice say, "Dorian is downstairs."

He looked up to see Solas painting a mural of the fade on the atrium wall.

"Oh I was just…" Cullen started, but Solas gave him a knowing look. "Thank you." He said gently as he headed for the main hall's staircase to the basement.

Once down there, he saw a soft red light emitting from a door across the hall, where a small private office was. He smiled as he heard Dorian quietly talking to himself.

Cullen pushed the door open silently, seeing Dorian's back facing him. He snuck up and wrapped his arms around the mage’s waist. Dorian gasped before realizing who it was, then leaning his head back and humming in contentment.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Cullen asked in a breathy whisper.

Dorian sighed, "I have to know what I'm doing when I reverse the amulet's magic, if Felix can get it off his father. If we can find his father. Hopefully they've stayed put."

Cullen hummed, acknowledging Dorian's concerns. "I wish we had more time, then you could perfect this."

Dorian turned in Cullen's arms and wrapped his around the Commander's neck.

"I wish we had more time, too." He looked deeply into Cullen's eyes, leaving the silence between them.

Cullen quickly caught on, walking Dorian into the desk, lifting him by the thighs to sit atop it. "We have a couple of hours, at least."

Dorian smiled, bringing Cullen in for a light kiss. It quickly became something more, with hot hands finding fasteners on the other's armor and unfastening them. Their kiss turned deep and passionate and nearly frantic as the men wasted little precious time.

Dorian leaned back and pulled Cullen over him, holding him close as he whispered between kisses, "I never stopped loving you. I couldn't make myself stop after you told me to go. You had me."

Cullen kissed down Dorian's neck as he whispered back, "I thought it was just me. And I need you to know I only sent you away because I was scared. I didn't know what the Inquisition would do to you. I was only upset you'd lied to me."

"But you know why I had to." Dorian held Cullen by the cheeks to get his attention. "Would you have wanted me if I had told you I was a Tevinter necromancer."

Cullen pulled the mage’s hand back and kissed his palm, "I want you now, don't I?"

Dorian's words were thick with need as he whispered, "Do you?"

"More than anything."

And the love they made in the night, in a private tucked away space, far from the eyes and ears of Skyhold, was more than either man had felt in many years. Possibly all their lives.

__________

Cullen smiled as he rode alongside Dorian's horse, listening to him and Felix reminisce. They had a long history, from what Cullen gathered, and cared for each other like brothers. It felt good to see Dorian as his true self, and not a bundle of half truths peeking out from behind an alias.

The group was much larger this time, with closer to fifteen templars, including Barris, along with the addition of Solas and a handful of other mages. Cullen was grateful for the help, even if it meant spending time with Solas, trying desperately to find something to talk about.

When the team arrived, they tied their horses up at the camp near Master Dennet's stables and took off on foot toward Dead Ram Grove, signaling the watch tower to stay on guard.

At the entrance to the cave, Cullen took Dorian's hand and squeezed tightly while giving him a worried look. Dorian smiled gently, squeezing back. Cullen nodded and signaled the group into formation and forward. It was still dark, but with several mages summoning flames into their palms, they would be able to see any ambushes this time.

The team stepped cautiously into the final room of the cave where the Inquisitor had been torn through time. It was quiet, with the scattered corpses of Venatori from their failed attack on Cullen’s crew. Dorian winced as he saw the familiar clothing of his homeland, not happy to be fighting his countrymen.

Cullen looked to Dorian with concern, wordlessly asking if he was alright. Dorian nodded and continued on, reminding himself these men chose this path.

After glancing around the room, everyone turned to face Cullen with disappointed looks.

"There's no one here. How are we going to bring the Inquisitor back without that amulet?" One of the mages asked.

Dorian bit his lip as he thought.

Before he could come up with anything, Felix spoke up. "No, there must be another way out of here. My father didn't head for the entrance when he retreated, he went further in."

Cullen nodded, "That's right, everyone look around! There must be--"

Dorian placed his hands on the wall at the back of the cave and closed his eyes, reciting a spell quietly.

Before anyone could ask what he was planning, the wall dissolved away, revealing a laboratory and a barely conscious Alexius breathing heavily on the ground, books scattered where he sat.

"Father!" Felix rushed to his side as he pulled bandages from his bag. Alexius’s wounds were deep and unhealed, but not from Lavellan's sword, which laid across his lab table, still coated in blood.

"My son," Alexius’s voice was incredibly weak, sounding more like air than words.

Felix began applying pressure to his father's rotting wound, exposed flesh healed open.

"We have healers here, just hold on," he said even as the healers shook their heads, wounds too old to fix.

Dorian approached with caution, nerves rising at seeing his old mentor again. He stepped into view just as Alexius looked up.

"The Venatori," he wheezed, "they left me, abandoned me. Told...told the Elder One I failed them."

Felix's eyes began to well up with tears, "They were using you, father, just like you used Dorian. They wanted your magic, that was all."

Tears tugged at the edges of Alexius’s eyes as well, as he admitted, "The Elder One...Corypheus...he came to take the amulet, tried to kill me. But...but I…"

He began to cough and sputter, blood leaking from his nose and mouth. He tightly grabbed Felix's hand, holding on with all his strength as he gasped and panted for air.

The air was stagnant, musty and old. Without a draft present, Dorian and Felix could feel as Alexius’s last breath escaped his chest and hit their skin.

Felix sat back on his hunches, eyes glazed, staring down at their entwined hands.

Dorian looked away and closed his eyes tightly.

A long silence hovered in the room, Dorian's hand gripping Felix's shoulder to comfort him. He looked down at his hand, still clasped in his father's, and felt something heavy and cold kiss his palm. He pulled his father's hand away to find the amulet, pulsating and smooth, as if never used.

"Crafty bastard," Dorian said as he lookes at the amulet in pristine condition. "He repaired it, but not perfectly. The way the magic is calibrated, it should work in reverse."

Dorian looked from the Inquisitor's sword to the books scattered on the floor.

"He was going to bring Lavellan back and try again."

"Maker's sake," Felix dropped his head into his hands.

"It's already 'calibrated' to bring him back? That saves us some time, doesn't it?" Cullen looked to Solas for confirmation.

"I am unfamiliar with time magic. I believe everyone to be, except for Dorian." Solas gestured from Dorian to confirm.

He nodded, taking the amulet from Felix and looking it over for imperfections. "Indeed it does. So long as he's done it correctly."

Dorian began work on his spell with the mages silently watching on. Though he had asked them not to, they often asked questions, to which the usual reply was, "This is time altering magic, you know. Let's not forget the danger of this."

When they began to ask too many questions they wouldn't get an answer to, Cullen stepped in and shooed them away. After they scattered, Cullen placed a hand on the small of Dorian's back, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around the man from behind. He wanted nothing more than to rest his head on Dorian’s shoulder and close his eyes. And when he would open them, the Inquisitor would be there unscathed and everything would be normal.

Cullen heaved a deep sigh at the thought, Dorian turning to look at him with concern.

"Something the matter, amatus?"

"Who?" Cullen asked, not really having absorbed the question.

Dorian chuckled, "You, silly. Are you alright?"

Cullen shook his head slightly, eyes closed, "No. I mean, yes, it's nothing, just...who is Amatus?"

Dorian rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Cullen’s neck. "It's Tevene, a term of endearment like 'honey or 'dear'." A smirk came to his lips as Cullen scolded himself for sounding jealous.

"Sorry, I'm just nervous about this whole situation. I didn't mean to…" Cullen trailed off.

Dorian pressed a nimble finger to his lips. "It's alright, I'm nervous too. This is something I've never done, never even considered having to do. But it will turn out. The Inquisitor will be fine, I promise."

Cullen stared with anxious eyes for a long moment, "That's an awfully confident promise."

Dorian's calm smile faltered ever so slightly, but Cullen caught it, placing a warm ungloved palm to the mage's cheek. "I trust you, Dorian, but it's not your fault if he doesn't come back."

Dorian cringed, "This has all been my fault. If I had just been honest from the beginning--"

"Stop." Cullen leaned forward to silence him with a kiss, forgetting the others around them. "Hunting down the Venatori has been our goal this entire time. This may have happened eventually, you couldn't have changed this."

Dorian nodded, lips still so close to Cullen's. "You're right, I know you are, but I would feel much better if I could bring him back."

Dorian grabbed the calibrated amulet and a tome off the lab table, breaking free of Cullen's embrace and moving toward the center of the room to prepare the ritual.

Solas stood from his crouched position, holding out his hands to take Dorian's completed spell.

"The most difficult bit will be leaving the fade at the same time you entered. Make certain you do not interrupt the flow of time." Solas warned as he started casting.

Dorian looked to Cullen one last time before a green and yellow tear opened before him and he stepped through.

Hours passed and still Dorian hadn't returned with the Inquisitor. Cullen paced the room along with the mages, while Solas maintained meditation in the center of the room, waiting for the beckon call.

He couldn't take the suspense any longer. Cullen gingerly walked near and around Solas to see if he could still hear him. Solas coldly spoke, quiet and even, "I am entirely aware of my surroundings outside the fade, Commander."

It made Cullen jump at first. He then asked, "Are you...in there with them? Can you help them?"

Solas stayed completely still with his eyes closed and legs crossed as he responded, "No, I cannot. I am simply suspending my mind in the fade, but I am not there as they are. They went in physically, body and spirit as one. I would have gone in myself and done this more quickly, but alas, there must be someone on the other side to pull the Inquisitor back through. Dorian has an excellent understanding of time, but the fade can disorient even the brightest minds."

None of this made Cullen feel any better, or more confident that they were safe. "But can you see them? Are they alright?"

Solas sighed, annoyed at having to dumb things down, "Dorian and the Inquisitor have made contact. I can sense their spirits near one another, but I cannot see anything. Were I there, I could use my senses. I am not, however, so I must feel for their souls. I know not where they are in time, or how they fair."

Cullen grunted in frustration. Why did he expect a clear answer?

A short while passed and Solas began to rise, grabbing his staff again. "Everyone stay back, the tear could pull you in!"

Everyone scattered to the edges of the room, watching in astonishment as Solas tore the veil open, Dorian and the Inquisitor stumbling through back into the 'real' world, haggard and panting.

Cullen approached slowly as the tear sealed behind them. When Dorian locked eyes with him, he ran into the Commander's arms.

"Cullen," he whispered in his ear, breathy and shaking, "Thank the Maker, it's you"

Cullen returned the embrace but was still confused. "Yes, it's really me. What happened? Are you alright?"

The rest of the room rushed to the Inquisitor's aid, healers starting to mend cuts and bruises and wrap them gently but with urgency.

Dorian pulled back to look Cullen in the eyes, tears nearly falling onto his cheeks. "Time moves differently. I hoped we would be out in a few days, but it's been weeks, maybe months for us. Lavellan said he'd been sent into the future and stuck there for nearly a year. I can't begin to imagine…"

Dorian shuttered and pulled Cullen close again, Cullen shushing him softly, running calloused fingers over his hair.

__________

Back at Skyhold, a crowd waited anxiously at the base of the steps from the main hall, nervous chatter rumbling through them. The Inquisitor was in his chambers, healers and templars looking him over, a scholar begging him to recount his experience.

Cullen and his fellow advisors took deep breaths before opening the doors of the main hall and descending the steps until they reached the middle landing.

"People of the Inquisition!" Cassandra shouted over the chatter, "The Inquisitor is safe and in good health!"

The crowd sighed a collective sigh of relief as they applauded.

Cullen smiled as he added, "All thanks to the brave and valiant efforts of the templars," they raised their swords from within the crowd, people cheering. "Our mages," they raised their staves as well, Solas smiling as he bowed his head.

"And lastly, this man." Cullen held out his hand, inviting Dorian from the front of the crowd to join him. "This man, who joined with you as a troop, rose quickly through our ranks with his impressive display of magical knowledge; who joined the Inquisitor in the field, and contributed to the important research done in our library."

Dorian was already stunned as he stood above all the people of Skyhold, but Cullen took both hands in his, and faced him full on. "This man, who risked his reputation, his place in the Inquisition, and ultimately his own life, to return the Inquisitor to us from beyond time. Dorian Pavus."

Felix, standing at the front, looked up to Dorian from within the crowd and shouted, "To Dorian!" The crowd joined in with thanks, crying out with joy for their Herald’s great return, and the man who saved him. Dorian looked out over the crowd as they said his name, as they recognized him for all his deeds despite his lineage.

The good Tevinter.

He smiled as he turned to Cullen once again. "A tad overdue, if you ask me."

Cullen chuckled, "You're impossible."

Cullen pulled Dorian in for a long and tight hug, the crowd around them cheering for the Inquisitor. Cheering for the

#cullrian #cullen rutherford #dorian pavus #mulan au #cullrian au #da au #dragon age au #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #da #dai #long reads #slow burn #like really slow #but it picks up #disney au #disney inspired #writing #long fic

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