"Living a lie, it festers inside you like poison."

[elisaphoenix13-cullrian]

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[elisaphoenix13-cullrian]

A Stubborn Sort Of Grace (Ch.1)

Dorian didn't know what to expect when he came to the South. He even made it a point to prepare himself for the unknown. Being in the Frostback Mountains with no shelter and very little in the way of supplies was certainly at the top of his unexpected list. It was so unexpected that he had not been prepared at all. His magic was the only thing keeping him from freezing his unmentionables off, but that was still something he had to use sparingly. Even the fires they built during their brief respites did little to warm his frozen fingers.

At least until they set up a more permanent camp between the mountains. They stopped most of the icy wind and gave them a chance to properly set up tents and a large fire so they could all rest and heal. Not forever, of course, but long enough for the advisors to figure out what they were going to do next. Though that didn't get very far. All they did was argue before walking away to cool their heads.

It was then that Dorian noticed Cullen falter in his step on his way to his tent. It was subtle enough that if one weren't watching, that it would go unnoticed, but Dorian had been watching. He had watched Cullen care for the survivors and make sure they were comfortable enough. Whether it was a scrap of bread to quell their hunger pangs or an elfroot potion to soothe their injury…but he never took anything for himself. Dorian was even sure that the man had not slept since their escape from Haven.

When no one else seemed to notice their Commander’s plight, Dorian sighed and pulled himself away from what little warmth the fire offered to follow the man. It would be no good if he collapsed because he insisted on being a martyr. Perhaps he could coax Cullen to at least eat some stale bread.

Dorian snorted at the thought. It was wishful thinking. He would try nonetheless though.

When he pushed himself through the flap of the tent, he froze at the sight he was met with. Cullen was standing over a makeshift desk as he expected, but the man was pallid and obviously shivering. Far worse than what Dorian had expected.

“Fasta vass!” Without a care to how Cullen would react, Dorian rushed forward to place the back of his hand on the other man's forehead. “Commander, you're burning up!”

“I am fine,” Cullen wheezes out before a wet cough escapes him.

“You are a fool! You need rest!” Dorian pulls him away from his desk and over to his cot. Cullen’s lack of struggle spoke volumes to how he was feeling and he couldn't help the string of Tevene curses that left him. “I understand that you want the others to be taken care of first, but your health is important too! Thedas will not fall if you indulge in some water!”

Dorian gave Cullen a look when the man opened his mouth in, no doubt, a sad attempt to defend his actions, and Cullen barely had the energy to glare back in response. He was very easy to direct onto his cot before Dorian walked back to the entrance of the tent to flag down a nearby runner.

“A blanket, food, and a potion for our Commander if you would. Or anything that can be spared at the very least,” Dorian requests before ducking back into the tent. When he turned to regard Cullen, he frowned at the glassy expression in his eyes. It was becoming more and more obvious how much he had been pushing himself and Dorian had to wonder how long the man had been sick. 

While he waited for the runner to return, he conjured a mage light to warm the tent before walking over to tug at Cullen's armor. A silent request for him to remove it was temporarily refuted, but eventually Cullen gave in when he broke into another coughing fit. Dorian could tell his fever was affecting him because he struggled a bit with the process of removing his armor. Even more so when he started to take off his vambraces and winced as he tried to remove the one on his left.

“I…” Cullen mumbles as Dorian gently helps remove the rest. It was immediately met with a hiss from both men. Cullen’s arm was a lovely shade of purple and Dorian took it as gently as he could to inspect the damage.

“Broken?” He asks softly. He mumbles an apology when a gentle prod causes the other to hiss again.

“I don't think so,” Cullen answers. “Perhaps too many hits to my shield.”

Before Dorian could ask more, the runner poked his head in and left an offering of a blanket and some bread and water. “I'm sorry, Ser. This is all we can scrounge up.”

“It's alright. Thank you,” Dorian dismisses him and takes the blanket and food back to Cullen. “Here. Eat this.”

“There are others that need it more,” Cullen argues.

“I’d be inclined to agree with you if you weren't the exact shade of all this blasted snow we are in the middle of,” Dorian snaps. “Do not argue with me Commander. If you collapse, what kind of example does that set for the others?”

Cullen wisely kept quiet and took the food from Dorian and slowly nibbled at it and the mage let him. He knew how sickness could kill one's appetite, but he also knew it was important for Cullen to eat something. His body could only run on fumes for so long and wouldn't be able to fight the illness as he was. While he ate, Dorian turned his attention to the blanket and put some runes on it to help warm Cullen. The blanket itself was too thin to do much for his fever, but with the runes, he'd be able to sleep warmly.

Cullen had just finished his meager meal when Dorian turned back to him and forced him to lay down. Moments after he laid the blanket over him, Cullen visibly sighed with relief and sagged into his cot. His shivering subsided as well. “Nobody will think less of you for resting,” Dorian says softly, finally conjuring some healing magic for the bruise.

“They need me–” Cullen starts.

“To be well,” Dorian interrupts as some of his magic heals the bruise. It was still purple but it looked less angry and Cullen didn't flinch as much when he touched it. It would be a process since Dorian didn't want to exhaust his magic so quickly. “Rest, Commander.”

Dorian knew Cullen would have struggled or argued more on a good day, so it was a sign of how terribly he was actually feeling. He even closed his eyes when the mage pressed a cold hand against his head, and it didn't take him long to fall asleep. Dorian sat there for the better part of the night until Cullen's fever went down enough for him to move away. He didn't leave though. Dorian made sure Cullen's sleep was uninterrupted, and even Cassandra had retreated when she came by to talk to Cullen.

Her surprise was apparent, but whether it was because Cullen was actually sleeping, or because of Dorian's presence was a mystery. Dorian was willing to bet it was both. Only then did he let himself submit to his drooping eyes that he had been fighting all night. Dorian had to make sure the commander got a decent amount of sleep, so now that the initial goal was reached, Dorian himself could hopefully catch a few hours himself. Even if it was on the most uncomfortable crate against a questionably sturdy and thin pole. It was against his better judgement too. If he so much as sneezed, he may very well take down the entire tent.

Better judgement was becoming less common by the minute, so Dorian hoped they still had some semblance of luck, and he nodded off to the sound of boots crunching outside in the snow, and the bonfire popping.

What woke him at the break of dawn wasn't the runner he had expected, or even Cullen trying to get back to his duties. It was the tiny sliver of light from the rising sun that peeked through the gap of the tent flaps. With a soft sigh, the mage rolled his neck to relieve it of the tension and then tried to do the same for the rest of his body. A few joints popped and brought little relief, leaving Dorian to bundle up in a cloak and ignore the discomfort to search for some semblance of breakfast. Or at least something hot for Cullen to drink. It would help with his cough.

“Dorian,” Leliana approaches him. “How is he?” She asks softly.

“Sleeping. I've managed to bring down his fever, but he is in desperate need of a real bed and shelter,” Dorian admits. “I'm hoping to find some tea.”

The Nightingale nods immediately and motions toward one of the tents where runners were going to and fro. “We will be moving out soon. Solas knows of a place we can seek shelter.”

Dorian's brows climb up in surprise. “If it's a cave, the least of his concerns will be his dreadful sense of fashion.”

Leliana answered him with an amused snort before he excused himself for the tent across the way. As soon as he rounded the corner of it, he saw that some of the survivors were making what they could from the meager supplies they had. It was mostly gruel and a sad excuse for stew, and while Cullen deserved to eat the stew, his stomach could probably only handle the gruel. He requisitioned two bowls and a mug of tea when he told one of the girls that it was for the commander, and he made his way back to Cullen’s tent.

Just as he stepped back in, the man himself had started to wake up and rubbed his eyes. “Dorian?” He mumbles.

“Ah, I was wondering if you were too delirious last night to remember what happened,” Dorian walks over and hands over one of the bowls and the mug of tea when the commander sits up. “Here. Eat it all or I'll be cross. The tea is weak but it is hot and will help with that nasty cough.”

“What about you?” Cullen asks, noting Dorian's lack of tea.

“The gruel is plenty for now. Surprisingly the tea is scarcer. It has some elfroot in it, but they had to stretch it to its limits,” Dorian says softly. “It's mainly for the injured and sick,” he adds pointedly when Cullen frowns. “And you are sick.”

The commander regards his cup with fierce scrutiny and Dorian was already coming up with ways to make the man drink it. Cullen was obviously still playing the martyr and thought there were others that would need it more than him, but to Dorian's surprise, he seemed to lose his own battle and took a tentative sip. Cullen's shoulders sagged in relief almost immediately and Dorian felt his own lower in response. He really wasn't in the mood to argue with Cullen, and maybe the man felt too sick to do so. Dorian wouldn't complain.

“...you stayed,” Cullen whispers after a few comfortable minutes of silence as they eat.

Dorian's spoon stops halfway to his mouth and he gently returns it to his bowl. “I had to be sure you didn't try to wiggle yourself back into that heavy armor and march yourself to death. As it is, I will be making sure you travel as safely as possible when we leave.”

Cullen's face scrunches up in distaste at the idea. “I will not be coddled and carried like a child.”

Dorian huffs, though he would never admit it was from fondness. “I was actually thinking of offering my shoulder. Or is that still too much for you? Perhaps I can find one of the druffalo and have it drag you to our destination on a litter?”

Cullen barks out a laugh which turns into a coughing fit, and Dorian winces at the obvious mucus remaining in the man's body. He reaches over to gently pat Cullen's back in an attempt to alleviate his coughing, and when he finally settles, Cullen looks over at him with a humorous–if not also a somewhat defeated–twinkle in his eyes. “Your shoulder would be appreciated.”

“A shame. I would have enjoyed watching you being dragged,” Dorian says with his usual flamboyance, and winces again when Cullen falls into another coughing fit from laughing. 

[elisaphoenix13]

Help to cover rent!

I know I haven't been as active on here as I used to be, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask for help anyway.

Last Monday night I slipped and fell on the snow, landed straight onto my back and the back of my head. Hit it hard enough to give myself a concussion (went to the ER as a precautionary measure). Did what my doctor told me to do, rest for the next couple of days. Already missed three days of work because of it. Tried going back in yesterday but during my lunch break I suffered a very bad panic attack (likely triggered from being so sore), and I went home early because of it.

Last time I had a panic attack that felt like that, I was going back on my medication and it was a week of struggling. So I have now filed for a leave of absence from work so I can heal and get back to my regular routine at my own pace without worry.

Only this will be a huge problem on my wallet. And it will be hard to cover rent and my other bills. I know it's Christmas time and people's purses are a little tighter than usual, but if you can spare anything it would be so helpful and mean the world to me.

Goal: $2000

I only have Cash app, PayPal, and Venmo to work with:

Cash app: $ElisaPhoenix

Paypal: @elisaphoenix13

Venmo: @Jamie-Ross-35

Thank you all in advance if you're able to help, of not please reblog so this can reach as many people as possible! I will be sure to keep track of any donations I get (if any) so you know if I reached my goal!

[elisaphoenix13-cullrian]

In Search of Cullrian Prompts!

That's it. I'm just looking for some motivation/inspiration to write another multi chapter fic. So if you have any requests or ideas (and have read my stuff and think it might be to my style--or even if it might not be), please let me know! I'll even write a one shot if an idea is interesting enough but not something I can work with continuously.

I'm also open to SPECIFIC soulmate ideas. I seem to use some kind of soulmate ideas with these two for some reason.

(No modern ideas though. I very much like the world they're in!)

Thanks in advance!

[elisaphoenix13-cullrian]

Hiraeth

Cullen snored softly beside him.

It was something Dorian normally would complain about, but it was quiet enough to not disturb him. In fact, he lay awake just to adore the man instead of sleeping like he should have been. They had plans to claim a nearby fortress and Cullen had joined them to help. It wasn't a rare occurrence if the Inquisitor told his advisors about any future plans to claim keeps or the sort, and Dorian always enjoyed the commander's company. Especially when he got to share his tent. Cullen’s body offered comforting warmth no matter where they were…but someplace like the Emprise, Dorian welcomed the extra body heat even more.

He was also glad to have Cullen nearby whenever he had his nightmares. He would start by mumbling in his sleep and then the twitches would start, and finally the jerking followed when the nightmare was especially bad. At the moment, Cullen’s snoring had stopped and turned into mumbling, so Dorian gently placed a hand on the man's chest.

“Amatus,” he whispers, gently shaking the commander awake. When Cullen wakes with a gasp, Dorian slowly reaches up to caress his cheek and turn his head so he can kiss his forehead. “Shh…you're alright.”

Cullen mumbles incoherently before returning the kiss properly. “What's wrong? Are you alright?” He mumbles as he opens his eyes to look at Dorian.

Dorian huffs fondly. “You were having one of your dreams. I just took you out of it before it got too bad.”

“Hmm? I don't remember…”

“A good thing.” Dorian smiles when Cullen tiredly grabs the hand on his cheek and pulls it closer to kiss the palm of his hand.

“You should be sleeping.” Cullen drops Dorian's hand in favor of wrapping his arms around the mage to pull him closer. Whenever he did this, he always held Dorian's head close and the mage couldn't help but relax in his arms whenever he did so. It was soothing for him. He felt treasured and protected and he was sure that was what Cullen was trying to show him anyway. It was working.

“You started mumbling. I couldn't in good conscience leave you to suffer and end up being woken up by you as soon as I fall asleep,” Dorian mumbles against his collarbone, making the other man snort. “Keep holding me like this and I will.”

“I can do that,” and that was it. Cullen easily dropped back into sleep, and Dorian was able to drift off himself when his light snoring started up again.

When morning came, Cullen didn't get up right away much to Dorian's pleasure. The commander was happy to enjoy the quiet morning with him in their shared tent before the rest of the camp woke up, and only when they heard their companions waking up, did Cullen finally move away. He left a cold spot in his wake and Dorian grouched vocally about it.

“Can't we wait until it gets a little bit warmer?” Dorian grouses.

Cullen simply chuckles and kisses his forehead as he gets up and dressed. “If only I could. Take as long as you need.”

“No need. I'd rather get the job done so we can come back sooner and you can have your wicked way with me.”

Dorian knew that wouldn't happen though. Not with others so close. He still appreciated Cullen's humorous expression before he left the tent though. The man had grown used to Dorian's blunt flirtations, but there were still times the mage could get him to blush or stammer. Sometimes even both. It was always a delight to see.

Eventually, he did make it out of the tent after making sure he was as presentable as he could be in the wild. As he grabbed some rations from a nearby agent, Cullen passed by, grazing a hand along his side and then his back as he grabbed his own, and Dorian felt his heart flutter when the commander sent him a soft smile. Cullen may have been bad with words, but he spoke volumes with his actions. Something Dorian didn't know he needed until he started his relationship with him. Anyone could speak pretty words, but when they were followed by gentle caresses, Dorian couldn't deny how serious Cullen was. Of course, the commander didn't kiss him in front of everyone and preferred his privacy, but he would occasionally let his guard down enough to brush along his back.

“We move on the keep after we eat,” Cullen tells him as Dorian bites into some bread. “Please be careful.”

The mage swallows. “Always amatus. You should follow your own advice.”

Cullen smiles at him and they join the rest of their companions as they finish their breakfast. Dorian was content to listen to them discuss tactics as he knew his job was to keep them shielded and attack from afar as always. Cullen, Cassandra, and the Inquisitor would fight on the front, and Varric back with Dorian. It was always the same, but it seemed to make them feel better about essentially kicking their door down and saying hello rather violently.

Before Dorian knew it, they were approaching the keep and Varric was picking off the guards so they could attempt to take the Venatori inside by surprise. It went well enough. Without the guards to alert the rest inside, they were able to break down the gates and send the Venatori inside into a panicked frenzy. Cullen and Cassandra charged the closest warriors and Dorian cast a barrier around them, following up with some of his storm magic. Whenever an enemy got too close for comfort, he would cast Horror on them so they would run away in a panic with either Varric or Trevelyan picking them off before the spell wore off.

Dorian would raise the dead enemies to use against their living comrades whenever he could, used to the resistance that came with it. A part of their enemy always lingered in their bodies when they were freshly killed so that part would attempt to fight Dorian's call. It was easy to bypass it considering he was more than adequate with Necromancy. Their lingering will never lasted long anyway.

Then, as they got closer to their goal, their enemies began to spread out and they were forced to spread out themselves to continue to control the battle. Cassandra was nearby dealing with a couple of mages, Cullen just a little further dealing with warriors, and the other two…

Dorian cried out in surprise when a great axe nearly cleaved him in two. Once he was back at a safer distance, he watched as a Bruiser turned his attention to Trevelyan when the man attempted a back attack with his knives. Another barrier was cast and Dorian put his all into raising as many of the corpses as he could. As they rose and ran after the Bruiser to attack, something caught Dorian's attention.

One of the corpses he raised gave no resistance. It answered easily and maybe even willingly, that it gave Dorian pause. Perhaps it was an earlier victim of the Venatori that wanted revenge? It wouldn't be the first time, but even then this one was still too easy. So he looked. Dorian turned his attention to where the willing corpse had been and his blood ran cold.

Cullen’s body lay feet away, an arrow lodged in his throat and his spirit running past to attack Dorian's target.

All Dorian could do was watch. He was desperately hoping it was all a dream, but when the Bruiser fell and their enemies were no more, the rest of his companions all froze. They all looked at Cullen’s spirit with the same dread Dorian was feeling, and the mage cried out when the spirit turned to look at him.

Sorrow.

Cullen was looking at him with remorse.

“NO!” Dorian screams. “You can't be! You–”

Desperately, he runs over to Cullen's body and pulls the arrow out of his throat and pours as much of his healing power as he can into it. Spell after spell did nothing to rouse the commander and Dorian heard heartbreaking sobs as he continued to try. Until he realized they were coming from him. He felt himself choking on air he couldn't breathe anymore because he could feel his heart shattering. Breathing hurt, crying hurt, his very heart was in agony because Cullen would never hold him again.

“Dorian…” the whisper pulls the mage's attention from Cullen's body and finds his spirit standing beside him.

“Why?” Dorian chokes out, getting to his feet to face Cullen. “This wasn't supposed to happen!”

Cullen reaches out with a transparent hand , and Dorian sobs again when his cool touch rests on his cheek. “I'm sorry.”

“I wanted to stay with you,” Dorian whispers. “I was finally happy and now you're…”

He couldn't finish his sentence. The wound on his heart was still too raw and he was afraid if he came to terms with Cullen's death, he would break. Dorian was still desperately wishing that this was all a terrible dream and he would wake up in their tent with Cullen snoring in his ear.

What he wouldn't give to hear Cullen snore again.

Dorian gasps when Cullen leans forward to kiss his forehead. “I love you,” the spirit says quietly.

“Please,” Dorian begs, followed by another sob. “Amatus.”

Cullen gave him another reassuring smile that also looked sad and Dorian reached out in an attempt to feel his warmth. But there was none. Not even his body could offer that comforting warmth anymore. Dorian closed his eyes when Cullen placed one last kiss on his forehead, and when the cold caress moved away, Dorian dared to open his eyes.

Cullen was gone.

And Dorian fell to his knees and screamed.

He screamed until he was hoarse and couldn't scream any longer, and then eventually found himself staring at Cullen’s body when he could do nothing else. He didn't know how long he sat there. Minutes…hours…it was long enough for his tears to dry up but never enough for his heart to stop breaking. All he knew was that his life would never be the same again. He had loved so hard and so dearly and he would never get to live the life he wanted with Cullen anymore. He wasn't even sure he would live his life at all. He felt like he was watching his own body go through the motions now. Even when Trevelyan finally helped him to his feet after he had grown quiet and still. 

When Cullen disappeared, he took Dorian's happiness with him.

Now a shell of him only remained.

I wish I was able to tell you I loved you too.

Cullen’s smiling face appeared in his mind at the thought and the memory only made his heart clench in pain again. Would he dream of Cullen's gentle caresses and the chaste kisses that left him wanting for more? Or the sweet nothings he would whisper in Dorian's ear when they laid in bed after they made love? His loving glances? 

I suppose you already knew, didn't you, Amatus?

[elisaphoenix13-cullrian]

Barely Breathing (But Still Alive) (Ch. 11 END)

Dorian grew bored very fast. He slept for the first day after they returned to Skyhold, but after that, he had been ready to return to his research. His injuries still tugged painfully but the library was close by and would be sitting for most of his time there. Cullen, on the other hand, was not very agreeable to the idea. He insisted that Dorian stay in his room and rest until he was fully healed, but if he did that, Dorian might just set the fortress on fire. He didn't say anything at first, but after the third day, he managed to sneak out of his room and to the library, where he sat comfortably in his plush chair with one of the books Josephine had found for him. No extraneous activity. Just some light reading.

Cullen found him not even an hour later.

The commander stood at the alcove with a slight frown and it made Dorian put his book in his lap with a heavy sigh. “If you try to drag me back to my room, I may very well scream.”

Cullen seemed to think about the threat, knowing full well that Dorian would follow through with it. The mage didn't take well to being cooped up against his will. The week he had spent in his room while avoiding the commander was of his own volition, but now? Resting in his room doing nothing was not sitting well with him. He wasn't in so much pain that it prevented him from making himself useful.

“I suppose you aren't out in the training ring…” Cullen responds and Dorian smiles at him.

“Ah! He can be coerced!” When the commander simply rubs his eyes, Dorian picks up his book again. “I'm only joking. I have no plans to throw myself into any danger until I'm at full health. But this is a war, Commander.”

“I know.”

Dorian almost didn't hear it. Cullen had said it so quietly, so forlornly, that he nearly missed it. He has been feeling Cullen's anxiety through their bond since the Hissing Wastes, and even now in the safety of Skyhold, it hadn't wavered much. He was even back to prodding through the bond to check on him despite his feelings on the matter of privacy. Dorian was starting to suspect that Cullen was trying to reassure himself rather than check on the mage. They both knew Dorian was not made of glass.

So Dorian allowed it. Let him poke and prod until he was satisfied and receded back to his own mind. There was actually one moment that Cullen was prodding, and Dorian had poked back irritably because he had been sleeping. But instead of the fear he expected once he realized what he had done, there had only been exasperation. Cullen was adjusting to their bond, and Dorian wondered if his encounter with the demon had anything to do with Cullen's newfound tolerance.

“How are you sleeping?” Dorian asks. 

The look on Cullen's face made it obvious that he had not been expecting that question. He even looked conflicted. “I…much better actually,” he says with a furrow in his brows. “The nightmares are scarce now.”

“I would hope so,” Dorian turns a page. “You had a little bit of a demon problem. I took the liberty of getting rid of it for you.” Dorian found Cullen staring at him blankly when the silence grew too long, and he sat up a bit. “Cullen?”

“You…went into my mind? There…was a demon?” He mumbles. His uncertainty made Dorian uneasy and it was possible he might have crossed a line.

“Not on purpose. I was pulled there. Through the bond I imagine,” Dorian explains quickly. “That's the only explanation. You were awake the entire time. It happened around the time of the ambush.”

“You saw everything then?”

“I saw enough,” Dorian says softly. “I didn't see everything that happened but it's not hard to fill in the blanks.”

He watches as Cullen finally moves closer, choosing to lean against the window sill and look out. Dorian could feel his uncertainty. Uncertainty about how Dorian saw him now. How Dorian knew that was something he would think about later though. For now, he let Cullen gather his thoughts. If Dorian rushed the conversation, Cullen could lash out. That kind of trauma didn't go away overnight. Or even ten years.

“What was it you called me?” Cullen finally asks and Dorian coughs loudly. Had he been able to recall the dream?

“I beg your pardon?” He asks once he catches his breath. “I've only ever called you by your title or your name.” Dorian even made a show of holding a hand to his chest so that it looked like his chest had been bothering him. Not that he was in shock by the sudden question. Cullen thankfully seemed to buy it.

“Do you need water? Or some tea?” Cullen straightens, as if to retrieve whatever Dorian needed that very moment, but the mage waved his hand to stop him.

“No, no. I just moved wrong. That's all. Don't you have some work to do?” When Cullen winces, Dorian looks at him smugly. “Are you using me as an excuse to avoid your work? That's very unlike you. Someone usually has to drag you away.”

“I blame you and your insistence that I take naps,” Cullen grouses.

“Which you needed,” Dorian says without any remorse. “And I'll do it again,” he smirks as he wiggles sparking fingers around and Cullen huffs as he moves closer to grab his wrist.

“If it were up to you, I would always be asleep,” Cullen grunts and Dorian dispels his magic with a smile.

“I wouldn't go that far. Maybe a daily thing. A nap before lunch. I would even put a spell on your doors so you wouldn't be disturbed unless it was an emergency.”

“Do I want to ask what would happen if it wasn't an emergency?” Cullen raises a brow.

“Just a little shock. Harmless,” Dorian gently tugs him down with his free hand and hums softly when the commander gives him a chaste kiss. “I think I could get used to this.”

“Kissing? I imagine you have experience with that already.”

Dorian snorts. “The meaning. Unless…this is just something to help you get through the war. I wouldn't mind being a port in the storm but at least–”

“Dorian,” Cullen interrupts, his voice falling low and laced with a chuckle. “I intend to follow you wherever you go. Even Tevinter.”

Speechless. Cullen had rendered him speechless with a single sentence and a soft smile because Dorian knew he meant it. He could feel it through their bond and see it on his face. He didn't know when this infatuation turned into something more, but for once, he didn't want to run away from it. He just wasn't sure how to proceed. 

“We do have to survive first,” Cullen says, giving him a knowing look and Dorian glares at him.

“You certainly know how to ruin a moment.”

The man chuckles again and pulls away. “Rest. Don't overexert yourself.” He lifts Dorian's hand and places a gentle kiss on the back of it as he stares back at him, and Dorian's cheeks heat up instantly.

“Fasta vass! Let me work in peace!” Dorian bats him away and stares down at his book as Cullen leaves with a soft laugh, and he wills his face to cool down. He didn't know what Cullen the others were talking about when they said he was a stuttering mess when it came to flirting. This Cullen was confident enough. Dorian was swooning. Swooning.

“Why don't you tell him?”

Dorian jumps in his seat and holds a hand to his chest to will his heart to slow back down and to lamely attempt to quell the pain. Cole sat nearby glancing at him from underneath his oversized hat, and looking a little guilty. Probably for digging into feelings that the others had repeatedly told him not to do. Dorian understood his need to help but the spirit was also trying to understand their boundaries.

“I…am not ready,” Dorian admits quietly.

“Is it like before? What if telling makes it happen all over again?” Cole picks through his thoughts and Dorian winces. “It's different. He's different. He wants this too.”

Dorian sighs and looks up at the ceiling. “Soon, Cole. It's not easy for me.”

“Why?”

“Even knowing, part of me is afraid. I can't…go through that heartbreak again.” Dorian looks back down at his book. “Please go.”

And Cole was gone. Dorian was glad that he knew when to let things happen and when he pushed too hard. The mage did appreciate the listening ear, but the insight was not something he was ready to acknowledge. Not yet. Dorian was still getting used to the fact that Cullen kept coming back. Continued to adore him and stand vigil over him because he wanted to. Not because he was expecting anything. Sex wasn't even a thought and Cullen didn't seem to mind. He was enjoying Dorian's company.

The damned simpleton.

His Ferelden charm has enticed that one little moniker out of Dorian during a dream. A singular word that spoke volumes when Dorian uttered it, but he was still too afraid to say it outside of the dream. If he did, it made things real, and he was worried it would ruin whatever he had with Cullen. He wanted to believe that Cullen really would follow him wherever he went, but a part of him still whispered that it was too good to be true. That he wasn't worthy of Cullen's attention. His love. 

He wants this too.

Cole's words echoed in his head. Dorian knew that. He could feel Cullen's feelings through their bond every day. And becoming stronger. He has felt his fear and desperation when he got hurt, and that was what spurred Dorian into action. He stood, barely paying his book any mind when it thumped loudly on the floor, and he took purposeful strides down the winding staircase and then out the door towards Cullen's tower. Dorian didn't have time to be afraid, and that's why Cole had tried to help. They were in the middle of a war and there was no way of knowing if either of them would survive. Especially him. He had already flirted with Death twice and he might not be lucky a third time.

He needed to tell Cullen. If the commander turned him away, Dorian would cross that bridge if it came to it. For now, he simply threw open the door to Cullen's office, startling the man at his desk.

“Dorian?” Cullen stands immediately. “Is everything alright? Should I fetch a–”

“Amatus,” Dorian blurts out, bracing himself on the door he had thrown open. He was afraid if he didn't lean on something, he would fall over, his nerves were on edge.

Cullen only stared. Expectantly. Of course he was. He didn't speak Tevene so the word held no meaning to him. So Dorian swallowed thickly and steeled his nerves to meet golden eyes.

“It's a term of endearment in Tevinter.” Dorian says. “Loosely translated it means…” he trails off and looks away, his fear coming back in waves.

“Beloved.”

Dorian's attention snaps back to the commander, surprise obvious on his face. “How…?”

“I…the bond. I can feel the meaning of the word even if I don't understand it,” Cullen explains. “There are a lot of things I can feel through it even if you struggle to tell me yourself. I can feel your hesitation, but there's more behind it. There's want, need…and even love. I can feel how scared you are to trust me with it and I want nothing more than to show you that you don't have to be. Not with me.”

Dorian falters a bit and frantically goes over the information in his head as Cullen rounds his desk and approaches him. Without a word, the commander gently holds Dorian's wrist, and the mage easily conjures a small flame in his hand. It danced calmly in his hand as Dorian's magic swirled happily within him, eager to answer his call again. He had almost forgotten how this all started.

“I don't want to be hurt again,” Dorian admits, on the verge of tears.

“Whoever hurt you was a fool,” Cullen says softly. “But their foolishness gave me the opportunity to have you for myself. If you'd have me, I would fight an army of the Venatori or Red Templars if it meant I could come home to you.”

Dorian couldn't help but release the disbelieving sob that had bubbled up in his chest. Cullen's words were music to his ears and a balm to his healing heart. Rilenius had broken it, but then Cullen had come along and picked up the pieces, slowly putting them back into place. Dorian had been a fool for not seeing it sooner. 

“And if I decide to return to Tevinter?” Dorian chokes out.

Cullen simply smiles. “I told you, I would follow. You can point me to an evil Magister and I would free their seat for you.”

“You are an utter fool.”

“Maybe…but you deserve more. I want to give all of it to you because I love you,” Dorian's eyes widened at the admission. “I was lonely, angry, and even scared before I met you. And you helped me without asking for anything in return.”

“You saved my life!” Dorian argues.

“I think you saved mine first.” Cullen shakes his head. “I don't love you out of obligation or necessity. I fell in love with the man behind the mask. The one who cares about how I was sleeping and about my headaches back in Haven. The one who battled a demon so I wouldn't have so many nightmares…the one who gave this bond a chance even though he was afraid it was a leash to control you.”

“If you don't stop saying such things, I might start to believe you,” Dorian finally says and wipes his eyes. “I came here to tell you what that word meant because I realized that we might not even live to see tomorrow.”

“You love me too,” Cullen says for him. It wasn't a question either. He could feel it through their bond after all.

Dorian sniffles and nods. “And I foolishly will until the end of my days. Whether that's tomorrow or fifty years from now.”

Cullen smiles and lifts his hand again to kiss it. “Then I suppose we are both fools. By the Maker, I'll make sure we have fifty years.”

Dorian believed him.

[elisaphoenix13-cullrian]

Barely Breathing (But Still Alive) (Ch. 10)

The road to Skyhold may as well have been mountains. It was as if the wagon they pulled Dorian in hit every single rock or crack in the earth and the mage was miserable. He was unable to sleep while they traveled, and it eventually got to the point where Dorian healed himself as much as he possibly could.

Then got out of the wagon when they stopped to rest.

He winced as his feet met the ground and held his chest as it tugged at his wound, but fortunately didn't open. “I'll have better luck walking to Skyhold,” he mumbles to himself.

The Inquisitor walks around the wagon and stops to stare at Dorian. “What are you doing? You need to rest!”

“Your idea of rest is finding every out of place rock in Thedas,” Dorian almost snaps. “It has caused me more pain than being on my feet!”

Trevelyan frowns then looks around at their companions and Inquisition agents. “We'll camp here for the night. I think we could all use a good night's sleep.”

Dorian said nothing as tents were put up by the agents. His pain admittedly made him cranky and he wasn't feeling very amiable, even when an agent gave him an extra blanket and the comfiest cot they carried. Which wasn't saying much. Comfort wasn't high on their priorities out in the wilderness.

The only reason he wasn't quite literally conjuring thunder around him was because it was nice to watch Cullen. He was securing the perimeter of the camp and giving orders to the agents as if he were born to do so and it was…appealing. It was a soothing balm to Dorian's irritation to watch the commander take charge and make sure they would be safe for the night. Cullen even glanced over at him when Dorian had to lean against the wagon when his energy ran low and his wound began to flare in pain.

An obvious reminder that traveling in the bumpy wagon was not as awful as he thought.

“Here, sit,” Cullen says softly when his hand lands on Dorian's arm.

Dorian looks at him and frowns. He hadn't even realized when the man approached. “I'm alright.”

“Magic can only heal you so much,” Cullen says. “You still lost blood and you need to rest to recover from that.”

“I would be fine if I could actually sleep in the wagon,” Dorian finally snaps, immediately frowning when Cullen sighs. “I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that.”

“We're trying to make the trip smooth. It should start getting better,” Cullen says as he leads Dorian away from the wagon and to a log that a couple of agents had dragged over. “How are you feeling otherwise?”

“Tired,” Dorian admits. “Still a bit sore.”

Cullen nods and walks away momentarily, coming back moments later with a flask of elfroot potion. “We were able to procure a couple from a camp we passed by earlier.”

Dorian thanks him and takes the potion, relaxing on the log as everyone settles in for the night. Even though he was injured though, he didn't like sitting around and not helping. So the very least he could offer in the way of help was to light their campfire. He sighed softly as the flames warmed him and he was already easing into sleep. His exhaustion was catching up to him, and so an agent made sure he had dinner before he fell asleep. Varric made sure he actually made it to his tent.

For about an hour, Dorian dozed in his cot, kept warm by his extra blanket and whenever Cullen came in. He began to wonder if the commander would actually sleep or if he had a terrible habit of worrying over every little detail. Dorian never found out though. He fell into a deep sleep, hardly even remembering his dreams, until he was woken up at the break of dawn by none other than Cullen. Dorian remained half asleep and groggy as the commander led him out of his warm bed and into the brisk morning, and then into the wagon where more warm blankets waited for him. By then, Dorian was awake enough to recognize the kind gesture, so he got himself comfortable without a fuss. Cullen was trying to make sure the rest of their trip was less painful for him and he appreciated the thought.

As he was falling back asleep though, he felt another blanket cover him and Dorian cracked an eye open to find Cullen’s cloak lying over him. The soft-hearted fool.

The wagon jolted into movement and instead of jostling his wound, it was comforting. The blankets dulled any rocks they might have rolled over and the cracks in the road didn't bother him either. In fact, the swaying lulled him straight to sleep. His dreams were peaceful at first, but then something changed. The Fade changed around him and Dorian found himself in a building. At first he thought it was Skyhold because of all the stone, but nothing was familiar about it. There were doors and stairs, all of which led to what looked like bedrooms, but as he climbed higher in his curiosity, he came across a library. Two floors of bookcases surrounded him, and if it weren't for the foreboding feeling Dorian felt in his gut, he might have thought he was in heaven.

While he had never seen this place before, it still felt familiar, and the dread only got worse the more he climbed. When he began to see blood and viscera, Dorian had a feeling he knew exactly where he was and he hoped he was wrong. He hadn't come across demons, but there were bodies growing in numbers as he got closer and closer to the top, and when he reached the stairs to the top floor, Dorian had the sudden urge to run. To turn around and forget everything he saw…and he almost did. But then he heard whispering. The kind that set him on edge and made his skin crawl.

Demons.

Against his better judgment, Dorian pushed forward, climbing the stairs and opening the door at the top, and froze. The room was covered in the blood and viscera he had seen on the way, a few bodies were piled nearby, and a barrier of blood sat just a few feet away. In the middle of it, Cullen was on his hands and knees, muttering the Chant of Light to himself and so young. Dorian thought he was going to be sick. This poor boy had watched his fellow templars get slaughtered by demons and abominations alike and here he sat being tortured within an inch of his life. He looked famished and weak…but somehow still strong and sane. 

The demon nearby wasn't deterred in the slightest. It continued to whisper to Cullen in its scratchy, otherworldly voice, and he continued to ignore him. It was when Dorian finally understood why the commander was still plagued with his nightmares. He wasn't just haunted by his past. This demon…this demon of despair had latched onto Cullen. Visiting the man in his dreams at every opportunity. The thought made Dorian enraged.

“No more,” Dorian hisses out, successfully drawing the attention of the demon. “I won't let you hurt him anymore!”

The demon screeches in surprise when Dorian flings a bolt of lightning at it, and then follows with another when it lunges at him. When it falls back, the mage traps it in a cage of thunder.

“Another mage come to hurt the little Templar?” It hisses.

“To help him. He deserves rest and forgiveness. I will not let you feed on him any longer. Begone.” Dorian sends a fireball into the cage and watches as the demon screams as it burns into ash. A sense of relief washed over him when nothing remained and he finally turned his attention back to the trapped Templar.

Except, Cullen was no longer trapped by the barrier. He looked confused as he observed his new situation, and when his eyes landed on Dorian, his face shuttered into neutrality. “Another demon? You can try to–”

“No,” Dorian says softly. “You don't need to be afraid any longer.” As Cullen studied him carefully, possibly looking for signs of possession, Dorian approached him as if he were an injured animal. In a way he was.

“Don't come any closer!” Cullen barks out, making Dorian stop.

“Oh amatus…what have they done to you?” Dorian whispers, foolishly reaching out because all he wanted to do was comfort him.

Cullen didn't take kindly to the action and unsheathed the sword he still had on his hip. “Step back,” he snarls.

“Cullen–”

“Do not familiarize yourself with me, demon! I know your tricks!” Then Cullen was raising his sword and Dorian threw up his arms to cover himself.

“CULLEN!”

Dorian woke with the commander’s name on his lips and sweat rolling down his face. When he looked to the back of the wagon, he found the man in the exact same position he left him in his dream and his heart leapt to his throat. But the next moment, Cullen was attacking someone just out of Dorian's sight and all he heard was his victim's death rattle. They must have been ambushed while he slept and fought his own battle.

The brief chaos Dorian had woken to was already over though, and Cullen was crawling into the wagon to check on him.

“Are you alright?” He asks, frantically searching him for any new wounds, confusion plastering his face when he finds none. “I heard you yell for me.”

Dorian lays back and wipes his face free of sweat. “Just a nightmare. Were we ambushed?”

“Some red templars. There weren't many though.” 

An unearthly sound pulls their attention to the opening of the wagon, and Dorian immediately sends out an explosion of lightning at the approaching red templars, sending it flying into a nearby tree. When it falls to the ground and remains unmoving, he drops his hand in exhaustion. He may not have been injured in the Fade, but he had still been weak and he overworked himself there and only made it worse with the spell. He felt worse than he had when he was shot with the arrow, and he must have looked as bad as he felt because Cullen was looking at him with renewed concern.

“You look unwell.” When Cullen pulled off his cloak that still laid over Dorian, the mage whimpered when he began to undress his bandages.

“Commander!” Trevelyan rushes into view and looks in. “Are you injured? Dorian?”

“I'm alright,” Cullen reassures him, sighing softly when he finds whatever he was looking for. Dorian was too tired to look down at his chest and check. It didn't hurt more than usual. “Mana exhaustion. What did you do?”

“What I had to,” Dorian murmurs. He didn't think Cullen would understand. He almost didn't. It shouldn't have been possible for Dorian to visit Cullen's nightmares without the man sleeping, but it was possibly explained by their bond. The bond that he was growing to love and appreciate with every waking moment. 

Cullen only looked at him with growing concern before he covered him with his cloak again. “We'll be in Skyhold soon. Rest.”

Dorian almost didn't notice the chill in the air until the commander had said something, but the blankets and his cloak had easily kept the mage warm.

“He's feverish,” he hears Cullen say as he moves away to leave the wagon. “There aren't any signs of infection, fortunately.”

“He'll be alright once he gets back in his own bed,” Varric says as the wagon starts to move again.

It easily pulled Dorian back to sleep because he was so tired, and he didn't even dream. Not that he remembered anyway. Oblivion cradled him all the way to Skyhold, and he only woke long enough to feel himself being carried. If he really focused, he could feel the stretcher underneath him and voices garbled into one around him. He felt a cooling sensation on his chest and then he was warm again. Dorian felt the softness of a bed beneath him when he was moved again and then it was quiet. Not quite silence, but he could hear a fire crackling and even the sound of…clacking? He couldn't quite place the sound. He dozed for a while longer until he finally opened his eyes and found himself in his room back in Skyhold. The fire was easily explained then.

Another clack pulls Dorian's attention near the fire and he finds Cullen sitting at a small table with a chessboard. “I almost expected to find you doing paperwork,” Dorian mumbles.

Cullen looks up from the board and smiles meekly as he looks down. Dorian follows his gaze and barks out a laugh when he finds piles of paperwork on the ground. He regretted the laugh since it made his chest hurt, but Dorian still felt better waking up to Cullen being nearby.

“We must stop meeting like this,” he jokes.

“I agree,” Cullen moves a piece on the board. “I have to admit that standing vigil over you has given me the opportunity to hide. Being absent for a week has put me behind.”

Dorian frowns. “You did not need to come to my rescue. I don't want to be the reason you fall behind with your duties.”

Cullen slowly looks over at him with a soft smile that baffles Dorian. “I did…and I would do it again. I meant it when I said that you are important to me.”

Dorian sighs and looks up at the ceiling. “You cannot come to my rescue every time I get hurt.”

“No,” the man agrees quietly. “But you can be sure that I'll try. I am a better man after having met you…and all I want is to give you whatever you've been deprived of until now.”

Dorian already knew it. Cullen had made sure of it. Now he couldn't think of life without the commander and was finding himself looking around every corner, whether physical or rhetorical, in the hopes of seeing him. Cullen made him feel special. Feel loved. Worthy. He was turning into a lovesick fool.

“The things you say, Commander.”

[elisaphoenix13-cullrian]

Barely Breathing (But Still Alive) (Ch. 9)

When they finally parted for air, Dorian was waiting to wake up from a dream. Cullen being so forward was unexpected. He wouldn't expect Cullen to be so animalistic either but he did. There was no dream to wake up from though and Dorian was sure he had floated out of the room when the Commander finally let him go. His magic hummed beneath his skin like a purring cat and it put him in even higher spirits. So much so that he was still daydreaming a few days later. In the Hissing Wastes.

He almost didn't notice the sand.

“...ian? Dorian?” Trevelyan's voice filters through Dorian's thoughts and the mage blinks and looks at him.

“I'm sorry. What was that?”

The Inquisitor looks at him humorously. “Is there something else on your mind?”

“Not particularly. What was the question?” Dorian deflects easily, relieved when the Inquisitor allows it.

“There's a Venatori camp in the fortress nearby. I wondered if you wanted to knock on their front door and say hello.”

“If we don't, I'll be cross with you for weeks,” Dorian gasps dramatically. “You know how much I enjoy seeing my fellow countrymen!”

“Maybe it will get his mind off a certain someone when we do,” Varric says dryly, smiling when Dorian shoots him an irritated glance. The dwarf was sometimes too observant for his own good. The bite marks that Cullen did leave behind were visible, and while anyone else might have assumed that Dorian had just gotten into bed with someone at random, Varric always seemed to know better.

At least he knew when to keep things to himself. For the most part.

“Someone?” Trevelyan wonders. The poor oblivious man. Dorian was sure he could kiss Cullen in front of him, and he would still wonder what was going on. Although Dorian's reputation wouldn't help the man's assumptions so he couldn't quite blame him. He was kind enough not to jump to conclusions.

“Nobody,” Dorian says. “He just likes to cause trouble. How far is this fortress?”

When the Inquisitor pointed ahead, Dorian grumbled when he could barely see it through the heat haze and swirling sand. Maybe if he went back to his daydreaming, the trek wouldn't be so awful. It worked thus far and he was all too happy to think about what was waiting for him back at Skyhold. Dorian was by no means weak, but being pinned against the wall and held in place…it made him feel safe. Cullen ravaged him with kisses and bites but at the same time, held him so gently and treated him like he was something to be treasured. It still boggled Dorian's mind. He wasn't used to that.

Any love bites would have been left places easily hidden when he was in Tevinter, but here, Cullen obliterated all of his expectations. Even sending him off with a smile and one last kiss. Perhaps if he hadn't been the commander, he might have kept Dorian against the wall for longer. Maybe even take him against it.

The thought made his blood heat up. Now all he could imagine was Cullen pinning his front to the wall, pulling his pants down, and–

“You alright there Sparkler?” Varric asks. “Getting too hot?”

Dorian sighs. “To an extent.” Not a complete lie. He was getting a little overheated even before he started daydreaming. The Hissing Wastes were too hot, even for him.

“Here, I have some water,” Trevelyan offers, holding out his water pouch. “The Venatori can wait if you need to rest.”

Dorian takes the pouch and drains half of its contents. “I'll be alright. This did the trick.” As he returns it to the Inquisitor he looks up at the fortress. “Now, let us say hello and then we can camp for the night, yes?”

“No argument here,” Varric agrees and hoists Bianca into his arms. “I could use a nap.”

Dorian concurs with a grunt, throwing a fireball at the wooden doors when Trevelyan signals him to. The shards of wood managed to stun a group of nearby Venatori so the Inquisitor was able to run in and strike them down before they recovered. Dorian and Varric attacked from afar, aiming for archers and mages, then occasionally anyone that tried to sneak up behind Trevelyan. Dorian even had to put up a wall of lightning between him and their enemies just so the man wasn't overwhelmed. He would have used ice, but Dorian took a little bit of pleasure in watching the Venatori foolishly approach it and get zapped.

Even more so reanimating their corpses and using their own people to fight against them. 

Necromancy was still something Dorian was struggling with though. The elements came to him easily again, but raising the dead? It was as if his magic resisted. At first he thought it may have been Cullen's morals affecting it through their bond, but the commander had accepted that part of Dorian and so it didn't bother him. He theorized that it was just more advanced magic that he needed to practice. It still needed his call and it was getting easier the more he used it.

“Inquisitor! Up on the wall!” Varric suddenly shouts, shooting a bolt at the archer aiming for Trevelyan.

It was moments too late though. The arrow left the bow and flew towards the Inquisitor, but instead of finding its mark, it flew right past his head.

Straight into Dorian's chest.

He stood there in shock. He hadn't even considered that he had been the target, even though he had been standing behind the other man, but now he had the shaft of an arrow sticking out of his chest. He looked down at it in surprise, and then his adrenaline wore off and pain crashed through him. Dorian's body gave out and he fell back, trying to breath through the pain. Even though breathing made it worse.

“Dorian!” Trevelyan lands on his knees next to the mage and uselessly hovers his hand around the arrow. “We need to get him to the nearest camp!”

“Pull it out,” Dorian wheezes.

“That's a terrible idea,” Varric protests. “You'll bleed out!”

“I can…can…” Dorian winces from his next breath. “Venhedis…heal myself. Enough.” Even talking was hurting, but he was not about to die in the middle of a desert. The thought terrified him and he knew that Cullen had already been alerted because the man was prodding. Dorian could sense the desperation behind it but he couldn't use his remaining strength to block his end of the bond.

“There's a wagon. We can take you to camp that way.” Trevelyan says.

“The only chance I have is if you pull it out and let me heal myself!” Dorian argues, turning his head to cough from the strain. Both Varric and Trevelyan wince at the blood flecking on the ground.

“He's right,” the dwarf mumbles, walking closer as he pulls a potion off of his belt. “We have one more elfroot potion. It's our best bet if Sparkler ends up passing out.”

The Inquisitor grimaces, but carefully rolls Dorian into his side. “It went through. I'll have to break it to get it out.” He looks at Dorian. “Brace yourself.”

That was all the warning Dorian got before pain lit up his entire body. Black started to cloud his vision and he audibly whimpered as he frantically willed healing magic into one of his hands. His chest heaved and he felt the blood filling the back of his throat and he panicked when he realized that the arrow had punctured a lung. Then cool relief followed and he was able to look and see that the Inquisitor had forced his hand to his chest so he could heal himself. He hadn't even felt the movement.

“Varric, get the wagon!” Dorian hears Trevelyan yell before something is pressed to his mouth. The smell of elfroot broke through the cloud of pain and Dorian choked on the first few sips before he managed to drink some of it. It helped with some of the pain, and after he coughed up the blood pooled in his throat, no more replaced it.

He didn't remember much after that. He was still in excruciating pain, and the bumping in the wagon didn't help. Dorian vaguely recalled seeing figures before they grabbed him and then his world went dark after that.

When he woke again, he was inside a tent and he could see out of the partial opening that it was dark out. The only question was how long he had been unconscious. A few hours? A day? When he tried to sit up, he groaned when his chest protested the movement and that's when he noticed the bandages wrapped around him. From what he could see, they needed changing too.

Dorian looks back up when he hears the flap of the tent rustle, and his eyes widen when Cullen steps in. “Commander! What are you–” He hisses in pain when he sits up in surprise. “Vishante kaffas!”

“Makers Breath…lay back down,” Cullen says, moving closer to help Dorian do just that.

“What are you doing here?” Dorian mumbles.

“I…I felt your fear. Then nothing. Like I did at Haven,” Cullen admits. “I waited long enough for Leliana to get a raven from the Inquisitor, and when she only confirmed that you had been injured…”

“That's…very sweet of you Commander, to be worried about little old me,” Dorian rubs his eyes. “A couple of days then?”

“Three,” Cullen sighs. “You did not look well when I arrived. We'll be taking you back to Skyhold now that you're awake. You need a proper healer.”

Dorian winces at the thought of having to ride in a wagon again. The bumping and rolling were not easy on his injury, but it would be worse if he tried to walk. Even if he tried, he had a feeling Cullen would raise hell about it.

“You didn't have to come all the way out here,” Dorian says quietly.

“I did. When I thought I could lose you,” Cullen starts softly and the mage freezes. 

There was lingering terror coming from Cullen's side of the bond. Terror and desperation. Did the commander truly have feelings for him? The day in the wine cellar wasn't just a one off?

Dorian smiles and reaches out to grab his hand. “Don't you know I'm far too stubborn to die?”

Cullen doesn't return the smile though. “I don't think I could survive losing one more person I care about.”

Warmth flooded Dorian's heart and he gently tugged the man down until he was kneeling next to the cot. “Get closer so I can kiss you, you great buffoon.”

Cullen finally chuckles, leaning down to cup one of Dorian's cheeks and kisses him softly. Not as if the mage were fragile. No. As if he really was the greatest treasure to behold. The relief that flooded through their bond was evidence enough and Dorian found himself relaxing.

“Rest,” Cullen whispers when he pulls away. “We leave at dawn.”

“Would you mind terribly if I asked you to pave a road from here to Skyhold?” Dorian asks. “The bumps are not ideal for my situation.”

“I'll do my best to make the trip as smooth as possible,” Cullen smiles.

“I suppose that will do,” the mage sighs. Then he glances towards the opening of the tent, and then back at Cullen. “Will you…”

Dorian couldn't find it in himself to finish his question. These feelings between them were still new and he was still afraid that he was wrong. Cullen admitted that he cared for him, but that didn't mean he would stay by Dorian's side. Not for something like this. But then he felt Cullen's understanding and he wasn't so sure about anything anymore.

“I'll just inform the others that you've woken up so they can prepare for the trip home, then I'll come back,” Cullen says as he stands up.

“...thank you,” Dorian mumbles, watching the man leave the tent. As soon as he was out of sight, he gingerly rolled into his side and hissed again when the movement tugged at his wound. Which reminded him that the bandages needed redressing. Perhaps they had to ration those too.

He didn't even realize that he had dozed off until he felt movement next to him. Dorian jolted in surprise until familiar warmth encompassed him, and a mumbled apology followed a kiss on his forehead. He fell asleep feeling the most content he ever had in his life, and when he woke the next morning, the warmth was gone but his bandages were fresh.

[elisaphoenix13-cullrian]

Barely Breathing (But Still Alive) (Ch. 8)

It was amazing what a nap could do for Cullen when it was free of nightmares and interruptions. While Dorian only dozed for about an hour and woke up to the storm still raging outside, the commander slept for much longer. He couldn't help but watch him for a few moments when he saw just how young Cullen looked when the stress of the world ending didn't sit heavy on his shoulders. There were no expectations to lead an army, to train them to have a chance, or to advise the Inquisitor on the next step to take…he could just be. Dorian had a feeling that no one had seen Cullen like this since before the incident at Kinloch and the thought frightened him.

This man had gone through at least three hells with his mind still somewhat intact and only came out of it stronger than before. Stronger, but more weary. Dorian was afraid that if Cullen had to experience one more life altering experience, he would not come out of it the same man. He may very well break. Despite it all though, Cullen had put in the effort to approach him. Risked his life for Dorian with just a theory and hope and it rattled the mage.

He found himself reaching out for Cullen's hair more than once and hesitated every time. Pulled his hand back and wondered why the urge came over him in the first place. This was getting too personal. He was getting too close. Was the bond to blame? Dorian knew the second he wondered that, that it wasn't the case. Yes, they could feel a connection, however muted, but nothing was ever strong enough to force Dorian's hand. He didn't feel obligated to comfort the commander.

He wanted to.

And that was something else that made his heart clench. 

Once more he found himself reaching out to run his fingers through Cullen's hair, and this time he didn't pull back. No magic sat at his fingertips as he slowly ran them through golden curls and he swallowed thickly when Cullen simply sighed in his sleep. Dorian retracted his hand as quickly as possible after that and descended the ladder to pace the office below, frantically begging the storm to pass. It didn't, of course, at least not for another couple of hours. He was pleased that Cullen had been able to sleep as long as he had, but even more relieved when the wind stopped howling enough for him to leave the tower before the commander woke up.

He barely had the mind to find the closest runner to fetch Cullen a meal for when he woke, almost threatening the poor girl not to wake the commander and to just leave the food on his desk. As soon as she had skittered off to do as he requested, Dorian retired to his own room and dug out the bottle of wine he never drank all those weeks ago. Just because Cullen asked nicely. He had a reasonable argument at the time, but Dorian felt it was now well deserved. He drank it all throughout the rest of the day, only leaving his room for a moment to find another runner to find him a meal, and then sequestered himself in his room for the rest of the day.

It turned into a week.

Dorian hadn't intentionally locked himself away after the first couple of days. After he worked through some of his thoughts on whatever he was feeling for Cullen, he managed to find a book he had been looking for and used it for his research. Then he eventually left his room for his typical haunt in the library to continue when the book had nothing left for him. A stack of books he had charmed Josephine into finding were waiting on his chair and he happily sat down with them, completely forgetting about his inner turmoil.

Until Cassandra arrived.

“What did you do?” She asks sharply, and Dorian looks up at her.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Seeker?” He asks as he flips a page.

“Do not play coy with me, Pavus. What did you do to the commander?”

Dorian scrunches his brows together as he stares blankly at his book before looking up at the woman. “I honestly have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Cullen has been…less grumpy,” Cassandra explains with a heavy sigh. “I'm not quite sure how to explain his sudden mood change, but he seems happier. Lighter.”

“Ah. That,” Dorian looks back at his book and closes it when nothing he reads actually processes for him. It wouldn't until Cassandra left at least. “Sleep does wonderful things when it's not plagued with nightmares or the comings and goings of anyone needing his attention.”

Realization crosses her features. “You used magic? On him?”

“Yes,” Dorian confirms, then when she opens her mouth to argue, “with his permission. It was simple and he wouldn't have even noticed if I didn't ask, but I did. He told me about Kinloch and Kirkwall and I'm not so heartless as to force magic on him without him knowing.”

Cassandra stands there in silent contemplation for a few moments. “...thank you.” Dorian blinks in surprise and looks back up at her. “We all knew he was exhausted but no matter how much we begged him to get some rest…”

“Not for lack of trying,” Dorian says softly. “I only wish to help, Seeker.”

“I realize that now. I hope you can continue to do so.” 

She eventually left Dorian to his research after he nodded his head to her, and he was once again alone. The only disruptions he had were the occasional runner bringing him his requested food or a message from someone in the inner circle. The usual sender was Josephine with any information she had acquired or something he had asked her to look for, and sometimes even Leliana whenever she wasn't in the rookery. He could hear her talking from time to time though. Whether it was to her birds or someone else. If he had to admit it, he was surprised not to hear from Cullen. Dorian would have received an invitation for a game of chess, especially after he had locked himself in his room for the better part of a week, but maybe that was Dorian's fault. He did leave without a word after all and hadn't reached out to him since. There wasn't even a niggle through their bond.

Dorian decided not to look into the matter too much and instead, left his alcove to rummage through Trevelyan’s personal stash of wine. The lower level still didn't see much of anyone so it wasn't kept as much as the rest of Skyhold, and it made it easier to walk straight into the wine cellar to choose his bottle for the week. He had the decency to enjoy one of the Inquisitor’s selections for at least a week. He didn't know who else in the inner circle took their own liberties to find a decent bottle of vintage.

Iron Bull at the very least.

With a pleased hum, Dorian pulls a bottle from a rack in the corner. It wasn't necessarily hidden, but it was tucked away enough to deter most people from searching that far. Most of their acquaintances just grabbed the first bottle they found and wouldn't know a good vintage if it sat in front of them.

The mage turned when he heard the cellar door close, only to find Cullen standing in front of it. “Commander, I was actually coming to look for you.”

“Cullen,” the man corrects with a mumble. “I thought you may have been avoiding me.”

“Avoiding you? Perish the thought,” Dorian smirks as he approaches Cullen. “I just didn't have the heart to wake you up and I had some work to attend to. You understand.” He was avoiding him for the first couple of days, but Cullen didn't need to know that. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Cullen admits. “It was just a few hours, but it was the best sleep I've gotten in a very long time. Maybe even before I took my first philter.”

Dorian frowns. “You are remarkably overdue for a good night's sleep then. Say the word and I can come help with that if you'd like. Not a nap this time. A full night with the capability of waking on your own without worrying about morning drills. I'm sure Cassandra would happily volunteer to supervise on occasion.”

“...tonight then?” Cullen wonders.

“So bold Commander,” Dorian teases and smiles when Cullen rubs the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “I'm only joking. If tonight is what you wish. Is that why you came looking for me?”

“In part. I…also wanted to thank you. You didn't have to–”

“You didn't have to save my life by forever tethering yourself to me, but here we are,” Dorian interrupts. “But you're welcome. It is the least I can do. You of all people deserve some kind of respite.”

When Dorian reached for the door handle, he was surprised when Cullen suddenly grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Wait,” he breathes.

“What is it?” Dorian asks, cocking his head curiously. He could feel something through their bond. Like agitation, but Cullen didn't seem angry or even irritated. “Commander, are you stopping me from–”

“It's Cullen,” the man all but growls.

And then Cullen was kissing him. 

Dorian couldn't help the noise of surprise that escaped from his throat before Cullen essentially devoured it. At first, he had been too stunned to react, because this was not something he would ever predict the commander would do. It didn't last long though. He found himself returning the kiss just as passionately and it was all the motivation Cullen needed to back him against the nearest wall. His back protested the sudden impact, but all Dorian could feel was Cullen. His heat, his kiss, and his feelings. As if the kiss opened a floodgate in their bond. It sang between them as the kiss turned into something…wanton. Cullen was napping at his bottom lip as his other hand wrapped around his waist to pull him closer by the small of his back. The hand holding his wrist pinned it against the wall, and Dorian barely had enough clarity to hold onto the bottle of wine in his free hand. If he let go, it would smash and destroy whatever this moment was.

A very enthusiastic thank you? Unlikely. Not with the feelings that Dorian could sense very clearly now. Adoration. Vigilance. Attraction.

Even, dare he say, love. He could tell it was newly budding, and the idea of it scared him, but if there was any chance that he could be cherished like that and not be turned away after Cullen had his fill, Dorian was willing to take that risk again. Only because he knew. Cullen’s feelings were clear as day and he couldn't deny them…and whatever the commander could sense from him wasn't deterring him in the slightest. Maybe he could sense something Dorian wasn't aware of yet.

Then Cullen’s mouth was on his throat and drawing gasps from him that he wasn't sure were even voluntary. The chantry boy he teased the other man to be was nowhere to be found and it only aroused Dorian more. “Cullen,” he whimpers.

“Drop it,” Cullen mumbles against his neck, sending vibrations through his neck and down his chest.

“You've gone senseless. This is vintage.” Dorian whines. Not that he would ever admit to it later.

“I'll buy you a crate. Drop it.” Cullen returned his mouth to Dorian's and the mage obeyed without argument. 

The bottle crashed loudly, but the sound only seemed to spur the commander on. The second he released Dorian's wrist, the mage immediately reached up to run them through Cullen's hair, driving the man to pin him to the wall. There would be no hiding any bite marks being left behind, but Dorian didn't care. All that mattered was the body against his, the hand at his back, and the other running along his jaw to move his head however Cullen wished.

Dorian was being ravished and he hoped it never stopped.

[elisaphoenix13-cullrian]

Barely Breathing (But Still Alive) (Ch.7)

Their gut instinct was right. It turned out that the mayor had drowned half the village in order to control disease and Dorian wanted to spit on the man. Partially because of the act in general, but also because he could somewhat understand why the mayor did it. Not that it was the right thing to do, but it was a desperate move. Desperate and disgusting. Dorian didn't bother sticking around for the Inquisitor's judgement, as he was sure he would hear it through the grapevine at some point.

He simply went back to his research after some well deserved rest, and continued practicing simple spells and magelights to help his magic in the new space it made for itself. As he ran around Crestwood, he noticed that it seemed to settle the more he used it and it had been a relief. He didn't need Cullen to help control his magic anymore, and the man's prodding had become less and less. Dorian even dared to think it was non-existent. But the thought brought up that niggling concern he had had for a couple of weeks now.

Was Cullen pulling away because Dorian had control over his magic again? Or was it because of the single incident the mage tried to prod back? The commander had shut him out of their side of the bond so quickly, that Dorian had barely registered the fear. Maybe even disgust. What baffled him though, was that the disgust hadn't been directed at Dorian. It was as if the bond itself made Cullen physically queasy. Cassandra had said there was a story, but wouldn't tell him, insisting that it was something the commander would have to tell him himself.

The opportunity presented itself when he and Cullen were forced to take their game of chess inside the commander's office to take shelter from the snow storm that hit Skyhold. Cullen had been hesitant at first but then agreed that it was necessary for Dorian to know because of their bond. He wanted to make sure Dorian knew that nothing was directed specifically at him.

It was an appreciated gesture. However unnecessary.

When Cullen informed him that he had been at Kinloch Hold during its lockdown over ten years ago, that he had only been nineteen summers…Dorian understood the need to vomit. Even more so when the man described what he had witnessed and gone through. Days without food and water, torture, the screams–

“Stop,” Dorian mumbles, feeling queasy himself. “Please.”

Cullen falls silent for a moment, opting to move one of his pieces forward. “I've…changed. I was driven by fear for a very long time, but some things still upset me. When you reached through the bond, all I could think about was then.”

“Is that why your attempts to reach out have lessened?” Dorian asks softly.

“Yes. I couldn't….I realized that if I couldn't handle you reaching out, that I shouldn't be reaching out to you. In a way, it feels like an invasion and it unfortunately took me until you tried to understand what I was doing,” Cullen admits. “I…apologize.”

If the conversation hadn't been so serious, Dorian would have brushed him off with a huff, but instead, he tried to give the man a soft smile. “I appreciate it, Commander, but your apology is not needed. What you did was out of concern. You've proved to me that this bond isn't the leash I accused you of. I think, in some small way, you were trying to prove to yourself that a connection like this can be a good thing.”

“Perhaps,” Cullen mumbles. “It was comforting in the beginning. I could feel when your magic was unstable…and your frustration with it. I would use it to make sure you were safe–”

Dorian fumbles with the pawn in his hand. “You were concerned about my safety?” He asks, appalled. “A normal response for a Templar would be concerned about the safety of others.”

Cullen huffs. “Ex-templar,” he corrects. “And at first I was. Then it became apparent that while you could not call upon your magic like you wanted, you still had some semblance of control over it. You were frustrated and upset with your predicament, but never lashed out with your magic.”

Dorian mulled over the thought as he stared at the board, considering his next move. He was about to argue that he didn't even have the ability to use magic to lash out, but when he really thought about it, it was a possibility. Just because it wouldn't obey his wish to turn into a simple magelight didn't mean it wouldn't scorch an innocent passerby because of a tantrum.

“I suppose I should thank you for your confidence in me,” Dorian finally says after moving one of his pieces. “I certainly didn't have any in myself. Not for a while.”

“I know.”

Of course Cullen knew. If he couldn't sense it through their bond, Dorian made it clear as day on his face and in his actions. Though he knew the bond could relay feelings to a certain degree. At the moment, he could sense that Cullen was…weary. A combination of exhaustion, stress, and maybe even some irritation. Likely from the paperwork that he never seemed to catch up on. Which was currently sitting haphazardly on the bookshelf nearby.

“Even without prodding on my end,” Dorian says, sitting up straight. “I can feel your exhaustion. I'd say this is a perfect time for you to take a nap.”

Cullen makes a face. “A nap?”

“Yes, a nap. It's something one does to re-energize their body without sleeping for a full night–”

“I know what a nap is, Dorian,” Cullen rubs his eyes in exasperation. “There is too much to do.”

“At the moment you are sitting with me, playing chess. You could work on some of that dreadful paperwork I know is giving you a headache just by looking at it, or you can take an hour to yourself when that paperwork can't go anywhere even if you finish it.” Dorian smiles and points towards a door when it rattles from the harsh wind. “I believe that is the Maker's way of agreeing.”

Instead of giving Dorian a dirty look or a rebuttal about his work keeping him busy, Cullen seemed to sag. “The nightmares…”

Dorian’s smile falls immediately. “I thought you said the lyrium was gone.”

“It is. I suppose they're a side effect of Kinloch,” Cullen sighs. “I wish I could say they're not as bad. They aren't…but they're still vivid. It's hard to explain.”

Dorian considered his options. He understood that Cullen was afraid, but he also knew that exhaustion would only make things worse. In Cullen's case, keep them as they were. The man desperately needed some uninterrupted rest and he had an idea, but Cullen might not agree to it.

He stood up anyway and rounded the desk to stand before the commander, and smiled softly at him when Cullen looked up at him curiously. Without a word, he leaned closer to gently remove the fur overcoat he was wearing, only stopping when Cullen grabbed his wrist.

“Nothing carnal, Commander. I can assure you. I only want to help you…if you let me,” Dorian assures him softly. “I know of some magic to soothe the mind and even protect you from nightmares, but only if you allow it. I will not force it on you.”

Cullen sat there, unmoving and unyielding for a long time. Dorian was beginning to wonder if he had overstepped his bounds when he suddenly whispered, “Cullen.”

Dorian softens and finishes helping the man out of his fur, and then pulls back to allow him to stand so he can remove his armor. Cullen’s trepidation was obvious in his shaking hands, but Dorian only reached out to help when he struggled too long with a strap or a tie. Soon enough, Cullen's armor was off and set on its stand and Dorian was pulling him to the ladder leading up to his loft. The commander went without much of a fuss and Dorian followed, only to make a face at the hole in the ceiling. Biting wind and snow flower through it unobstructed and he leveled an unimpressed look at Cullen.

“Fasta vass, you are allowed to patch that hole. It's nothing short of a miracle that you haven't gotten sick,” Then Dorian thought about it and scowled. “Perhaps it's the Ferelden blood in you. Immunity to the cold. Barbaric.”

His complaining earned a chuckle from the other man. “I like to see the stars.”

“Then get a window,” Dorian huffs. “I'll be talking to Josephine the minute this storm lets up, I'll have you know. Now into bed with you.”

Cullen snorts and sits on the bed to pull off his boots, and then finally slides under the blankets and furs to settle into bed. The heavy sigh he let out pulled at Dorian's heart strings. If his idea worked out, he might have to make a habit of visiting the commander just to get him to take a nap. He obviously needed it more than he and the bond let on.

“No one would think less of you if you took a day for yourself, you know,” Dorian says with a sigh as he walks around the bed to take off his own boots and sit back against the headboard. “I have it on good authority that your soldiers are tempted to tie you to your bed.”

Cullen peers up at him. “You're making that up.”

“I might be overdramatizing it. Now hush and close your eyes.” 

“You sound like my mother,” Cullen snorts as he closes his eyes.

“I'm sure she was lovely but I most certainly am not her, and if you ever make that comparison again, I will hide your armor and make you walk around Skyhold in your underclothes.” Dorian gasps. When Cullen responds with a simple grunt, he rolls his eyes and wills some magic into his fingertips before running them through Cullen's hair.

It was soothing in a strange way. Dorian could feel the curls trying to break free of the gel they were trapped under, and he could also feel the commander relaxing with every passing graze. This was something that would normally be too tender for Dorian. Too personal. But Cullen wasn't complaining and Dorian wasn't going to comment. Perhaps he was too preoccupied with the fact that Cullen was actually relaxing.

“Would you tell me about your home?” Cullen mumbles after a few minutes of silence.

“Ah, the commander likes bedtime stories?” Dorian jokes, earning a soft pinch against his thigh. “You make it so easy to tease you. Perhaps another time though. I don't think hearing about my homeland will help quell your nightmares.”

“Hmph…”

Dorian looks around, mildly surprised to find a book on a nearby table, and he leans over to grab it. When he settles against the bed again, he picks up his ministrations as he opens the book. “Fairy tales?”

“They remind me of my childhood,” Cullen explains.

“Sometimes I suppose it's nice to revisit these stories,” the mage says in understanding. “Very well.”

Dorian humored Cullen's request and read to him as he ran his fingers through his hair. His magic gently seeping into Cullen's mind to protect him from unwanted dreams. It was about halfway through the third story that Dorian felt Cullen finally give in to his exhaustion and only then did he slowly withdraw his hand from the commander's hair. It was then he very carefully reached through their bond, and was pleased to find that it didn't disturb Cullen's sleep and that his magic had been effective. The blonde gave no outward impressions that he was in distress and Dorian was relieved.

He would still remain with him though. Whether there was a snow storm or not, he would have. He remembered when he had nightmares as a child that he desperately wished there had been someone to soothe him whenever he woke, but that was never something he experienced. So Dorian stayed. He read through the book of Ferelden fairy tales with curiosity, but eventually the heat Cullen gave off and his admittedly calming presence had the mage nodding off himself.

Maybe taking his own advice wasn't such a bad idea. The snowstorm wasn't stopping anytime soon.

[elisaphoenix13-cullrian]

Barely Breathing (But Still Alive) (Ch.6)

It took a frustrating–and admittedly shameless–amount of time for Dorian to relearn his magic enough to conjure a simple magelight. He imagined it a manifestation of one of the tantrums he threw as a toddler but in magical form whenever he tried to direct it to do anything. It was just another reason he was happy to be inclined towards the same gender. He wouldn't have had the patience for an actual living child. Although, in his case, he acted out because his parents always pushed him too hard. If he ever did have children, he'd like to think he would parent much differently.

Dorian eventually sought help from Cole when his magic’s tantrums got to be too much, and the spirit was far more helpful than he expected. Of course, once Dorian stopped asking Cole to stop telling him how his magic felt. At first, the mage felt it was unnecessary, but as the words sunk in…he started to realize Cole wasn't just saying things. His magic really did feel out of place and just needed somewhere to be again and the spirit taught him how.

In the form of his usual riddles of course.

But Dorian was able to decipher their meanings over time, and was finally able to give his magic a place to be again. It didn't quite click right into place, but stayed and slowly adapted. It also didn't help at first when Cullen would incessantly prod through their bond whenever Dorian practiced with his magic and it became a bit too turbulent for the ex-templar’s liking. It got to a point where Dorian had to tell Cullen about his sessions with Cole and what they were trying to achieve.

The prodding happened less after that. Understandably only when Dorian became a little concerned with his control. There was only one incident where he did lose that control, but no one was nearby to be hurt by the lightning that shot out in a completely different direction than Dorian was attempting. The only victim was a small bush that only got a little bit singed. It was already looking better thanks to the self proclaimed gardeners of Skyhold.

Soon enough though, Dorian had enough control of his magic that he felt confident about leaving Skyhold with the Inquisitor again. Some of the others had been uncertain about the idea, including the Inquisitor, so Dorian had shown them the control he had worked so hard for. Cole had even been gracious enough to spar with him to help show the rest of inner circle Dorian’s improvement.

“I don't see why you can't join us again,” the Inquisitor says after Dorian and Cole stop. “It's obvious you've regained your control.”

Dorian's chest heaved a bit, but he hid it with a smile. His stamina still needed some work but he hoped that getting back out into Thedas would take care of that. “I would not offer my services if I couldn't keep my magic in check. One would think that because I have not asked before, that would be obvious.”

“You have come across arrogant at times,” Cassandra huffs. “We know how badly you want to get back out there.”

“Yes, but I still know the risks, Seeker.” Dorian snaps. “The whole point of the exercise was to show you so you would not have to take my word for it.”

“Dorian is better,” Cole adds helpfully. “It wants to help.”

“What if we bring Cully-Wully with us?” Sera asks. “That way if–”

“He hasn't done a thing to keep my powers in check since Haven!” Dorian interrupts, irritated. “There is no need to pull the commander away from his work just to babysit me!”

“I don't think he would mind,” Varric shrugs. “He'd use the opportunity to get the information he needs and to see what work needs to be done that our agents might have looked over.”

“Fasta vass,” Dorian mumbles to himself as he leaves the training ring. Varric didn't seem concerned about Dorian's control but was still making a valid point. “I've done my part. You know where to find me if you decide I'm not an imposition or a risk.”

He walked away, somehow not showing how irritated he really was, but he also couldn't blame them for being cautious. If it had been Vivienne or Solas, he would have his own concerns. At least with Solas he would. He had a feeling that if Vivienne was the one unable to control her magic, she might just have a templar make her Tranquil. It was an option, yes, but her fear of her own kind blinded her to the possibilities. Dorian was a walking example. Without blood magic, he was able to come back from the brink of death or possession with Cullen's help.

Dorian really had to show his appreciation more besides the simple thank you he had given shortly after waking up. Cullen's decision impacted both of their lives and Dorian had been hissing and spitting at him like an angry cat. Cullen had done nothing more with the bond to warrant the behavior.

At least not yet, Dorian thought to himself as he found himself in his alcove in the library. It was as easy as breathing again to conjure a magelight and he never thought he would be so happy with the idea. Even a child just coming into their magic instinctively knew how to do it. It just showed how far Dorian had come.

“You're much better,” a voice startles Dorian from his focus on the nearby bookshelf and he looks over his shoulder to find Cullen. “I saw you and Cole in the training ring.”

“Yes, well, it would be great if you could convince the rest of them,” Dorian sighs as he grabs a book to sift through. He was sure it was the one that had the name of an artifact that could help their cause. “They have this ridiculous idea that you need to come and babysit me if I were to join them.”

“Maybe it's not such a terrible idea,” Cullen says slowly, wincing when Dorian narrows his eyes at him. “Just this once. We don't know if distance will pose an issue.”

“You can't very well go gallivanting off with us every time I leave Skyhold. We also won't know if distance will be a problem if you come with us,” Dorian points out.

Cullen sighs. “I'm aware. Then maybe going to the Hinterlands or Crestwood would be best to start?”

Dorian understood his concern and couldn't even get mad that the man was trying to find an option that would make both of them happy. Dorian would be able to leave Skyhold without an escort, but the locations were close enough that Cullen would breathe easier. And if anything did happen with his magic because of the distance, they were still close enough that Cullen could be there in just a few hours.

“Very well,” Dorian sits down in his chair after looking away from the other man. “Hopefully the idea will sate the others' concerns. It will be better coming from you anyway. If they hear it from you, they'll feel better about the idea.”

Cullen said nothing, only humming in agreement as he stepped closer. Dorian watched him stop by his chair out of the corner of his eye, and saw him reach out towards him before stopping and hesitating. He knew what the commander wanted to do, it was not unusual for Cullen to touch him in some way to check his magic. But the hesitation was certainly new. Dorian learned over time that Cullen was not very bold when it came to touching another, whether it was platonic or romantic. The only exception seemed to be Dorian and that was only to tend to his magic…so why was he hesitating now? Because Dorian was back in control?

“Is something wrong, Commander?” Dorian asks as he turns a page in his book. To his surprise, Cullen's hand retreated.

“Ah, no, nothing. I'll speak with the Inquisitor. You should get some rest.” Cullen says softly, then walks away leaving Dorian somewhat befuddled.

He considered prodding their bond to see if he could find any inkling of what was on Cullen's mind, but decided against it. When he first started to learn how to prod the commander through the bond, it seemed to startle him. They were playing chess in the garden, and Dorian simply wanted to see if the bond went both ways, but when he did, Cullen paled. At an alarming rate. The brief feeling he got from the man before he slammed Dorian out was fear. Cullen then abruptly excused himself, leaving Dorian and their game unfinished.

Dorian had not tried it since. That brief glimpse made it obvious that he was not the first to pick at Cullen's mind, and the thought made him sick. When he really thought about Cullen's own nudges through the bond, they had been hesitant. Dorian didn't notice at first, but after that, it had been eye opening. The commander was outwardly kind and helpful to him, but now it was obvious that he was not entirely comfortable with the bond himself.

When Dorian asked Cassandra about it, her face twisted into something akin to pity, but she only told him it was not her business to say. It was Cullen's story to tell and it was not one he told lightly.

That had been answer enough for Dorian. At least for now. He knew his curiosity would get the best of him and he would start searching for answers, but at the time, the bond was still too new. 

He could wait a bit longer.

Dorian stayed in the library, researching like he had always done when he wasn't practicing with his magic, but then he was suddenly being shaken. Gentle enough not to startle him, but he found himself lifting his head from his hand that he had propped on the arm of his chair. He didn't even recall getting to that position, but he obviously got too into his research and exhaustion caught up with him. A glance around his alcove revealed only darkness and a moon that told him it was well past midnight and he had missed dinner. Whether because of his impromptu nap or that he was too absorbed with his work, he would probably never know.

“Lord Pavus, it would be best if you retired to your room for the night.” Fiona kindly pats his shoulder when he sits up and rubs his eyes. “Your neck will thank you in the morning.”

“As will the rest of my body,” Dorian mumbles, standing. “Thank you. Have a good night.”

He nods his head at her and tiredly shuffles to the door leading to the rooms, heading to bed for the night. He was too exhausted to search for a bite to eat despite his stomach begging him otherwise. He would make up for it at breakfast.

=======

As Dorian expected, Cullen was easily able to convince the rest of the inner circle that Dorian would be just fine going on their excursions. Trevelyan agreed to stick close for his first outing and took Dorian, Sera, and Varric to Crestwood to help the village there. It was perfect for Dorian's abilities since, according to the remaining villagers, they had the undead knocking on their doors. Necromancy was Dorian's specialty and he didn't need to be told that the corpses were connected to the rift out in the middle of the lake. They weren't thralled by normal means.

When he said as much, Sera made a face. “Walking dead things aren't normal.”

“You know what I meant,” Dorian sighs heavily. 

“We'll need to close that rift then,” Trevelyan says. “But even on a boat that would be difficult.”

“The mayor mentioned a dam. Perhaps we can start there,” Dorian says. “Unless you'd like to swim out in the middle of the lake for a nice refreshing swim.”

“Tempting,” the Inquisitor jokes. “Maybe another time.”

“That's too bad. I would have enjoyed watching you try,” Dorian smiles.

“If you don't yarp looking at the water,” Sera cackles.

The thought made Dorian green. She did have a point. Even though it was only a lake, it was large enough to look at the sea and it only reminded him of his awful trip across the sea to get to Ferelden in the first place. He even had to recover from his sickness in a tent. Which he proudly proclaimed having to camp in the Hinterlands before he had joined the Inquisition. Varric was very amused with the idea…the bastard.

To get to the dam though, they had to reclaim the fortress that led to it. The Inquisitor even let him knock on the gates with a fireball. They broke into smoldering splinters, but it got the job done and they were able to run in and surprise the gang of bandits inside. Much to Dorian's pleasure, his magic behaved with every bolt he sent out and with every body he raised. He did notice that it was a little restless as they got farther from Skyhold, but it hadn't gotten worse. If he had to compare the feeling to something, it was like first time butterflies. Which, it was his first time away from Cullen, not being in the same vicinity. It was nice to know the distance wasn't an issue.

When Dorian saw one of the bandits trying to sneak up behind the Inquisitor, he threw out another bolt to stun him, giving Trevelyan enough time to turn and kill him. The dust settled moments later and Trevelyan looked over at Dorian as he put his daggers away.

“I don't know about the others, but I officially believe you have control of your magic again. If you didn't, you could have easily hit me considering how close he was,” he says, making the mage sigh.

“So you had no confidence in me.”

“Actually, I had full confidence, but this only proved the extent of your control.”

Sera made a face but seemed to agree. “He's right. I can't pretend I didn't see any of that.”

“Well, you could.” Dorian shrugs and she scoffs.

“There's words and there are actions. I like to believe what I can see,” she says and Varric raises an eyebrow.

“Like your bees in a jar? Or the not magic in jars?”

“It's not magic!”

“Sure, Buttercup. How about we take this fortress so we can find that dam?” Varric suggests.

Trevelyan nods as he starts the search for the flagpole. “I'm sure the village won't mind.”

“Better us than bandits,” Dorian points out. “If they do have an issue, you could kindly remind them of their options.”

“Why do I get the feeling you want them to have an issue?” Trevelyan chuckles and the mage sniffs.

“I don't like the mayor. He's nice enough but something feels off about him.”

“I have to agree with Sparkler,” Varric says. “He was very…dodgy.”

[elisaphoenix13-cullrian]

The Stuff Of Miracles

A sequel to "From The Wretched Comes The Beloved". If enough people enjoy the family feels/fluff, I'll make it into a little series. So let me know if you enjoy it!

Dorian was feeling better after a few more days of rest, but of course Cullen still fussed over him. The man insisted that he continue to take it easy until Dorian was fully healed and that was how the mage found himself on a blanket the former commander spread on the ground for him. It was another sunny day that he wanted to enjoy before the rainy season came–which Cullen reminded him wouldn't come for a few more months, but this was the South and Dorian liked to think he knew better–and he wanted to at least try to supervise their children while Cullen did the chores. Not that Dorian could jump to his feet at a moment's notice, but he did have magic and it would help save time for Cullen to jump into action if needed.

It was unlikely. Velvet was with Dorian and couldn't even roll over yet, and Felix was always nearby when the mage was up and about. The older children were a little more rambunctious, but a stern glance from their father easily put them back in line if they wandered too far or were misbehaving. They were good and…obedient. For the most part. They had their squabbles on occasion that Cullen assured was normal since Dorian was an only child and had no experience, and on the rare occasion when Cullen wasn't looking, they would chase the chickens…

“It's a wonder they haven't pecked their eyeballs out yet,” Dorian sighs dramatically as he watches Caiden run from one of the birds that finally got fed up with the boy for the day.

Cullen looks up from the tomato plant he's picking off of and sighs as well. “The defiance comes from you.”

Dorian mock gasps when his husband smirks at him. “Barbaric hick! You are the country boy! Haven't you chased a chicken or two as a child or were you too busy wooing pretty young Tevinters?”

“Trust me, there has never been any…wooing…” Cullen snorts. “You fell for my rustic charm, as you like to call it, all by yourself.”

“And I was lucky that all of your admirers didn't snatch you up for themselves or I wouldn't have anyone to pick berries for me.” 

Cullen pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Punishment for filling you with babies like a common housewife?” He asks, quoting Dorian's exact words from an earlier conversation. Dorian didn't mean them and Cullen knew it. But it was a running joke now.

“At least wait until Velvet is crawling before you put another one in me,” Dorian says and then immediately furrows his brows. “Perhaps not. Having to wrangle the other four was a task I prefer not to repeat.”

Cullen walks over and leans down to take Dorian's hand and kiss the back of it with a smile. “I think I'm content with the ones we have right now, love.”

“Well, that's a relief. I was going to tell you it was your turn.” Dorian quips and Cullen snorts in amusement as he releases Dorian's hand to grab the vegetables. “Are you done already amatus?”

“There wasn't much to pick today,” Cullen nods, grabbing Lucan when he runs by with a stick. “What have I told you about this?”

“I'm just practicing!” The boy exclaims. “Like you Papa!”

“I do not run with my sword when I practice with it,” Cullen says. “Only when escaping from an enemy, if putting it away is more likely to kill me.”

Dorian watched him admonish their oldest and it had him smiling fondly. Ever since hearing stories about the Inquisition and how Cullen and Dorian fought in the war, the older three wanted to be just like their father. They would even join him during his practice sessions with the dummy out in the sparring ring. They would light up as soon as they saw their father getting in some practice swings, and grab the nearest thing that could be considered a weapon. Of course that usually meant a stick.

Neither of them were ready to put a sword in their four year old’s hands. Not even a tiny wooden one. If they could help it, they would avoid it all together. Cullen only practiced to stay in shape and be prepared for anything that could come up…like the Inquisitor calling on their aid. It wasn't likely, but there were still the threats of a stray dark spawn that found a way out of the Deep Roads, bandits, or even Templars and mages. Dorian was sure that Cullen still slept with one eye open. The sword and shield near the bed was evidence enough that he was ready to jump out of bed and into a fight if needed.

Dorian appreciated it to some degree. He was used to Cullen jolting out of bed in the middle of the night to grab his sword whenever he woke from a particularly bad nightmare. They were very few and far between nowadays, but others started up as soon as Lucan was born. Cullen had said that instead of himself being tortured by demons and blood mages, he had to watch one of their children be harmed. Bandits, wolves, bears, blood mages. It could start out a pleasant dream, then turn dark the next moment.

Whenever Cullen had one of those dreams, he wouldn't go back to bed until he checked on the children.

“Why don't you go save your brother from Delia and then sit with your mother so we can have lunch?” Cullen suggests, sending Lucan off without his stick. “Find your sister too!”

“I'm sure she's rolling around in a mud puddle she created,” Dorian says. “Would you like help with lunch?”

“No, that's alright. You stay and relax.” Cullen says before gently ruffling Felix’s hair and heading inside. The boy barely heeded him any mind as he kept his attention on his toys, but at least didn't whine. He adored his father but sometimes didn't like when his hair was mussed.

Dorian supposed the boy got it from him. Then again, Cullen had gotten into the habit of taming his own curls using the war, despite claiming he used nothing to do so. No one believed him. Especially since Varric had seen him before the Inquisition War, hence the nickname Curly. When Dorian saw them for himself, he was a little more in love. They made him seem a bit softer.

Perhaps that's why Cullen insisted on combing it back. So he would be taken more seriously as the Commander. Dorian couldn't see fault in that line of thought.

“Mama! Look!” Aella runs over with her hands cupped and Dorian mentally cringes as he prepares himself for the inevitable worm his daughter found. He was pleasantly surprised to find a butterfly instead.

“Yes. Very beautiful darling. They say if a butterfly lands on you, they know you're a gentle soul,” he says. “Now go put it on a flower somewhere and wash up. Your Papa is bringing lunch out.”

“Okay!” The little girl practically skips off to do as she's told just as Cullen brings out plates and a basket of food. With Lucan and Caiden scampering behind him. Dorian wasn't even sure if the oldest had gone looking for his sister like he was asked to.

“I see that Aella wasn't completely covered in dirt this time,” Cullen jokes as he sets the food down.

“Miracles do happen,” Dorian sighs dramatically, causing the other man to chuckle as he sits down with the boys. “A butterfly landed on her. She was over the moon.”

“It was blue!” The girl exclaims as she runs over to plop down next to her father. Fortunately free of most dirt. At least around her mouth and hands.

“Maybe you'll see more of them before it starts to get cold,” Cullen says as he fills plates and hands them to each of the children before placing one next to Dorian. Since his hands were full with a newborn, he would only be able to use one hand. Thankfully, lunch consisted of finger foods that he and the children were all too happy to consume. Even Felix set aside his toys to munch on some berries.

“I might have to go into town tomorrow to buy some more bread and a few other necessities,” Cullen tells him. “Should I bring the older ones with me?”

Dorian ponders the question before shrugging. “We can all go, Amatus.”

Cullen frowns. “You're still healing and Velvet isn't even a week old. I would feel better if you stayed home and rested.”

This man and his bleeding heart, Dorian thinks to himself. But he had to admit that he had a point. The idea of stretching his legs was nice, but he was still recovering and couldn't walk around the farm too long without getting tired.

“Alright,” Dorian relents. “If you think you can wrangle them while you shop. Otherwise, I think I'll be okay if you want to go by yourself.”

Cullen visibly sags with relief. “I'll get you those candied dates you like so much.”

“And that is the real reason I love you. You buy me things,” Dorian smiles and Cullen actually had the gall to roll his eyes.

“I thought it was the country charm.”

“Hmm…that too, in tiny amounts. Hardly worth mentioning.” The mage says with a flippant hand. Which Cullen immediately catches to kiss the palm of, making Dorian blush a little bit. The man still surprised him with small motions like that.

“Eww,” Caiden sticks his tongue out at the display.

“Hush and eat,” Dorian huffs as Cullen smiles, leaning over to kiss the mage's temple.

It was certainly a miracle that Dorian hadn't combusted yet.

[elisaphoenix13-cullrian]

Barely Breathing (But Still Alive) (Ch.5)

Dorian could still feel Cullen’s breathy chuckle against his ear long after he left the tower. It stirred up one of many emotions and all Dorian could think was that it was too much. His mind and body were a jumbled mess just from his haywire magic, but when it slid so easily back home from the Commander’s simple touch, and then immediately buzzed out of control under his skin when he dropped his hand…it made Dorian frustrated. Which in turn made his magic more unstable. He would compare it to when he was still learning how to control his magic as a child, but even though it was never like this. As a child it sat patiently waiting for his call, coiled comfortably within him, but now it couldn't find that spot anymore. It was as if his outburst at Haven shattered its space.

And now he had to find that space for it again. 

So he started simple. He first found his room that the Inquisitor kindly pointed out to him, and after that, he found his way to Skyhold’s library and requisitioned the alcove at the top of the stairs as his. If he couldn't use magic, he would at least make himself useful with research. But candles were scarce and he tried a magelight again. It flickered uselessly in his palm and Dorian could feel that his magic was confused with the command. It swirled curiously around, as if peering at the space it was supposed to occupy and then looking back at him like a confused mabari pup.

The thought was laughable and made him even more frustrated to the point that he physically shook his hand in the hopes that it would do something. It didn't, of course. His magic simply vibrated under his skin as if it was just as frustrated with him, and then he felt…a prodding? It was nothing like his magic, somehow foreign but familiar, but not part of him. His magic settled enough that Dorian temporarily gave up and deigned to use the half spent candles in his alcove, and the prodding eventually stopped.

He busied himself with tossing any books that were useless to his cause–which was a good majority of them–until he was graced by the Inquisitor's presence. Inquisitor. A fitting title bestowed upon the Herald while Dorian was taking his beauty nap.

“You look better,” he says in greeting, and Dorian snorts.

“That remains to be seen. Unless you're referring to the fact that I'm not bleeding out of my eyeballs, then yes, I am better,” Dorian steals a glance at the man and finds him looking less than impressed and he sighs. “With everything that's happening, I think that's a bit of a win don't you think?”

“Cullen says the two of you have spoken…and that he explained how he helped you,” Trevelyan says. “Considering that his tower isn't engulfed in flames, the conversation went well enough.”

Dorian frowns as he tosses another book over his shoulder. “Helped me? Yes, I suppose so. I wonder if it was the right thing to do.”

“Dorian–”

The mage drops the next book before folding his arms and leaning against the bookcase. “As I am right now, I am nearly useless. The Commander saved me with a leash. He says he only sees it as a connection but it is a leash. He told me about the phylacteries and it's the same thing,” Dorian wanted to hiss and spit, but, “...but I can't fault him. He did the only thing he could think of and he didn't even know if it would work.”

“He could have made you Tranquil,” Trevelyan says softly and Dorian looks away.

“I know. In some depraved way, I guess this is better than that.” Dorian admits. “I have…too many feelings to sort through. All of which make my situation too stubborn to yield.” He holds out a hand to try for a magelight again but it still fizzled. Much to his frustration.

The Inquisitor smiles kindly. “You've barely recovered enough to stand. I'm sure this just needs time too. And this leash…if it really was one, I don't think Cullen would let you out of his sight. You're free to come and go as you please. Just like before.”

“I suppose we'll have to see,” Dorian mumbles as he turns back towards the bookcase. The Inquisitor leaves after a reassuring hand on his shoulder and Dorian exhales heavily.

It seemed time was taunting him.

He spent it perusing the books until he was satisfied that the shelves nearest him were finally deprived of useless drivel, and he was forced to leave the library. The candles had completely burnt out and he had no other alternative, so he left in search of food. He recalled the tavern he passed after he left the infirmary just the day before and made his way to the small building, side stepping the piles of debris around the castle grounds, and meeting a wall of heat and alcohol as soon as he opened the door. 

Wine was something that easily called to his battered soul and Dorian didn't waste any time ordering a bottle from Cabot and taking it to a secluded corner. He ignored the glass in favor of taking a swig straight from the bottle and ignoring the strange glances he was receiving. It was to be expected. And easy to ignore the more he drank the swill that passed as alcohol in the south. If he was lucky, it was only because Skyhold had very little and alcohol was low on the list of requisitions. Dorian would just have to find some sort of civilized town for a decent vintage.

Continuing with the swill was what he did.

“Shivers and boils. It's home but not serene. How can one so broken–”

“Stop,” Dorian grunts out. “Some things should be kept private.”

“But I want to help,” Cole says softly. “Your pain is so loud.”

“The wine is helping already,” Dorian mumbles. “Just another bottle or two and I'll be right as rain. Thank you, Cole.”

Fortunately the spirit took the hint and was gone the next instant, leaving Dorian to his dark corner and bottle of wine in peace. He knew he was being dramatically maudlin but he figured he deserved it. Gulp after gulp numbed his being and by the end of his first bottle, he was pleasantly buzzed. He was finally warm, the people around him were obscure blobs, and his magic was…content. Fortunately. He knew drinking could cause one of two outcomes and he was glad it wasn't uncontrollable.

The buzz gave him the incentive he didn't even need to buy himself another two bottles to enjoy in his room. The first was already popped open and drank from before he even left the Herald’s Rest and not even the chill coming off the mountains reached the alcohol induced heat of his skin. The walk to his room was pleasant, even when he stumbled into a wall or two. He might have even apologized to some scaffolding, but he was in far too good a mood to care about how foolish he might have looked. The next wall he ran into was warmer than most though.

“Might have walked too close to the fireplace…” Dorian slurs.

“Maybe then you'd like a safe escort to your room,” a familiar voice rumbles.

Dorian blinks a bit to make out the blur in front him and smirks when it sharpens into the Commander's features. He was just close enough to make out the scar on the man's upper lip and to smell the elderberry and oakmoss lingering under the smell of leather. It was…intoxicating.

He never felt so high…and he had done some questionable things in his youth.

“Why, Commander,” Dorian purrs as he lazily drapes his arms over the monstrosity of fur the man insisted on wearing. “Is the leash just the first step? Taking me to my bed by it is the second?”

Surprisingly, Cullen didn't push him away. His mouth twitched into a slight frown though. “No. I've already told you a leash was never my intention,” he huffs and the smile comes back just as quickly. “You’re enjoying yourself but after watching you walk into the scaffolding and nearly into the door, I thought I might help you.”

“How can I refuse? Perhaps you'd like to enjoy one of these bottles with me?” Dorian offers, holding up the bottle he had been drinking from. “You always look like you could use some rest and relaxation.”

Cullen calmly turns with Dorian, placing his hand at the small of his back to gently lead the mage to his quarters. “You do too. Perhaps with less alcohol.”

“It's behaving,” Dorian assures him. “So I'll enjoy the moment while I can.”

“Very well, but please don't make a habit of it. We don't know if your magic will always behave.” Cullen says as he gently moves Dorian away from the battlements. Curse the man and his attentiveness. It made it that much harder to be cross with him.

And suddenly Dorian’s mood dropped a little. “I tried to make a light again.”

“I know.”

Dorian opens his mouth to give his usual witty retort but then Cullen’s words struck a chord with him. That prodding he had felt earlier…

“...you can tell when I use my magic?” He asks.

Cullen hums as they reach Dorian's door. “I'm still becoming acquainted with this bond we have but I've learned to…reach out. I was only checking on you. I know how much this has shaken you.”

Dorian slowly reaches out and opens his door, and when he feels Cullen's hand move away from his back, his magic starts to stir in irritation. Until now he didn't even notice how much more docile his magic had become since Cullen touched him in the first place. The Commander had so much control from a simple touch and Dorian could barely sleep without feeling his magic buzzing under his skin.

“Are you sure you don't want to take me up on my offer, Commander?” Dorian murmurs softly, looking over his shoulder at him.

“Another time perhaps. I still have a lot to do,” Cullen says. “Rest well for now and try not to drink too much.”

Instead of answering, Dorian bows his head in acknowledgement before walking into his room and quietly closing the door behind him. He takes the last few pulls from his open bottle before tossing it aside, but when he looks at the third bottle, he sighs heavily and sets it aside. Cullen did ask nicely and he did have a point. His magic was behaving now but what if it acted up while he was sleeping? He could be too drunk to fend off the demons that came for him more often than usual because of his predicament. He would hold off for now at the very least.

“Ferelden barbarians and their damned chivalry will be the death of me,” Dorian sighs to himself.

He couldn't find it in him to really be perturbed about it.

[elisaphoenix13-cullrian]

Barely Breathing (But Still Alive) (Ch.4)

It took another week for Dorian to recover enough to stand on his own two feet. And in that entire week, his supposed savior hadn't come to visit him. He wasn't sure whether to be offended or relieved, and even told himself that the commander was a busy man. He was likely getting defenses added to their newfound fortress so what happened at Haven wouldn't happen again. But that was assuming that Trevelyan told him that Dorian had recovered.

Dorian couldn't look unappreciative though. Cullen saved his life and he had to find the man and thank him for not leaving him behind to be possessed despite the mixed messages he was receiving from the commander. Cullen would look at him like he was a plague on Thedas, and then the next he would do something as mind boggling as saving Dorian. 

He thought he was an expert at reading people but this proves him wrong. At least he thought so? Cullen was a conundrum nland had the mage questioning a lot of things and Dorian wasn't sure he liked it. Well, he didn't, but he did like challenges.

So when he was finally well enough to stay on his feet without collapsing, he asked where he could find the commander and started for the tower overlooking the front gate with a purposeful stride. Not only to thank the barbaric–and admittedly very handsome– man, but to also question him. What happened that night? How did he stop Dorian from being possessed when he could practically feel the nails of the demons digging their nails into his flesh? He thought he was too far gone to be saved from that point.

When he arrived at the tower, Dorian almost walked in with his usual flair, but he hesitated at the last moment. If he barged in, his gratitude may not come across as genuine and maybe even half-hearted. The thought didn't sit well with him. So he knocked instead.

“Enter.”

Dorian took a breath and gingerly walked into the tower, taking some time to look around the makeshift office before settling on the commander himself. The man was obviously exhausted. Hunched over his desk looking at missives like he had the world’s problems sitting on his shoulders, and Dorian supposed that he did in a way. Trevelyan may be the one with the Anchor in his hand, but Cullen was behind most of the plans of attack. He was the one commanding the troops, making sure they were in locations that would help the Herald if he needed them. Cullen had to think three steps ahead and while Leliana and Josephine were helping in their way…

“You look how I feel,” Dorian finally says.

Cullen looked up so fast that the mage was pretty sure that he heard a crack. “You're awake. How are you feeling?”

The question threw Dorian off for a moment. “I…alive, I suppose. I actually came here to thank you,” he says quietly. “You risked your life to help me and I'll admit that I don't even know how. So…thank you.”

Cullen’s face fell a little bit. “I wouldn't thank me just yet,” he sighs and rubs his eyes.

Dorian blinks and then looks at him suspiciously. “Commander…”

“There was only one way to save you and I wasn't even sure that it would work. When I was still with the Templars, there were theories but nothing ever worked. Then there was one that never got tested…at least while I was still with them.” Cullen starts to explain carefully.

Dorian took a breath, expecting the worst but trying to keep calm. At the very least, Cullen did whatever he did just to save Dorian and he hoped that it stopped there. “...and what was this theory you tested?”

The commander straightens from his slouched position and rubs the back of his neck briefly before sighing heavily again and dropping his hand to the pommel of his sword. A nervous habit that Dorian noticed in Haven. “I'm sure you've done your research on Southern Templars as I've heard that the Templars in Tevinter are mostly for show. In Ferelden and Orlais they have phylacteries. They're used to help track down mages that go rogue,” he says. “Ironically it's a form of blood magic and I hated it. But what I did is similar in a way."

“You're not a mage–” Dorian starts.

“No. But I was a Templar. I didn't need to use blood magic. There was a theory that Templars could form a bond with a mage that does the same things a phylactery can. So I attempted it. I had enough of my Templar abilities to Silence you and…establish the bond.” Cullen surprises Dorian when he starts taking off his gauntlets and the leather beneath. When his sleeve is pulled up to his elbow, the mage stares. On the man's forearm was a snake coiled around it, with its head resting on his wrist. “A sign that the bond took. Unnecessary when the amount of magic you were using drained my body of any remaining lyrium.”

Dorian’s mind immediately halted. “What do you mean remaining?” He asks.

Cullen hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck again. “I stopped taking lyrium shortly after I left Kirkwall. That was about three or four months ago.”

“Commander, are you insane?” Dorian balks. “Continuing to take it is preposterous of course but nobody knows what could happen if you suddenly stopped! And now with this…this bond–”

“Actually…” Cullen interrupts, causing Dorian to look at him incredulously. “I haven't felt this good in a long time. I think the bond I formed with you safely used up the lyrium in my body. I haven't had many symptoms since.”

Dorian remained silent as he mulled over all of the new information. Cullen stopped taking lyrium, possibly saved both of their lives by forming a theorized bond with him, but he still had questions.

“What does this mean?” Dorian asks calmly. “Am I on a leash now and you can decide when I can or can't use magic?” He practically hissed out the last bit and regretted it when the Commander’s face fell again.

“Maker, Dorian, no. That's…not who I am anymore.” He moves around the desk to walk over to Dorian and stop a couple of feet in front of him. “Yes, I would be able to find you if you disappeared, but I'm just here to help you balance out your magic until it stabilizes again. Ever since I created the bond, I could tell that your magic wasn't calm anymore. Even now I can tell it doesn't heed you like it should.”

Cullen was right. Dorian still struggled to make a simple mage light. It was like trying to aim a fireball but it went left instead of straight or fizzled out…he felt useless right now. How could he help the Inquisition if he couldn't use his magic like he used to? Dorian almost wished Cullen didn't save him.

“What if it never does?” He finds himself whispering.

Cullen looks at him with…empathy? Dorian wasn't sure how he felt about that but at least it wasn't pity. “Magic is just a part of you…but it doesn't make you who you are. It took me far too long to learn that,” he says softly, surprising Dorian for the second time that day. “You can still research, and I've seen you fight with your staff. You are far from useless or powerless.”

Dorian opens his mouth and then closes it in his bewilderment. He wasn't even sure what he could say about that. For the last couple of months he knew Cullen, he always thought the man hated mages or at least him, but it obviously wasn't the case. He put his own life at risk to try to save him and even stood vigil at his side when they safely got to Skyhold. The prayers he heard floating between sleep and awareness were the Commander and Dorian still didn't know what to do.

This amount of attention and care wouldn't even fill his father's pinky and Cullen did it in just a few days.

“You should get some rest,” Cullen says gently when Dorian remains quiet, pulling the mage out of his inner musings. “I think it helps your magic.”

“Is that why you haven't come to visit?” Dorian blurts out, making the other man blink.

“Excuse me?”

Dorian clears his throat. “You said you could feel my magic, yes? What exactly do you mean by that?”

Cullen tilts his head thoughtfully and Dorian has to keep himself from rolling his eyes when it reminds him of that mabari puppy he had seen in Redcliffe while out with the Herald. “It's like a bee. It buzzes under the skin because it's restless and confused. The buzzing became worse when you woke up because I could tell you tried to use it. So, yes, I knew you were awake. I'm sorry I couldn't come see you. There was a lot to be done to make sure Skyhold was safe.”

“You don't need to apologize Commander,” Dorian puts his hand up to wave him away. “I…truly appreciate what you did for me. You gave me a second chance and you're not pulling my leash.”

“It's not a leash, Dorian,” Cullen says. “it’s a…connection.”

Dorian simply nods and turns away. Only time would tell if Cullen would be true to his word, and so far that seemed to be the case. If it were a leash, he was sure the Commander would have kept him silent all this time.

Not to mention that he could have simply made him Tranquil.

Dorian holds out his hand in another attempt to summon a mage light, but sighs heavily when it barely forms a spark. Before he could drop his hand though, he felt Cullen carefully glide his hand along his arm until it stopped under his. Without saying a word, Dorian attempted the mage light again. He could feel his magic churning happily within him and part of it finding its home again and the spark flared into a soft blue light above his hand.

Cullen chuckling by his ear made Dorian shiver.

[elisaphoenix13-cullrian]

Barely Breathing (But Still Alive) (Ch.3)

Being so close to the Breach…it set Dorian's teeth on edge. It felt unnatural and as warped as it looked so he was rather glad that they were there to close it. He, as well as the many other mages, stood ready to close the rift on the Herald's command. As Trevelyan started to inch closer to it, Dorian slammed his staff into the ground and focused all of his mana into closing the Breach. The second he did though, he was desperate to stop. It was like the Breach was draining him of his power–maybe even his very life–at an alarming pace. At least faster than he intended to give it. 

When the Herald finally did close the Breach, Dorian had to use his staff for support. It was as if someone had cut the strings and from a quick glance, he wasn't the only one feeling that way. Regardless of how drained they felt though, everyone was relieved that the hole in the sky was closed. There would be time to rest later, but people were already celebrating before they even started their short journey back to Haven. He had to admit that the happiness around him was infectious and while he didn't outwardly show his joy, it did lessen the exhaustion he was feeling.

A hot meal awaited everyone when they got back to Haven, but even though it was hardly an upgrade to the usual gruel, Dorian couldn't find it in him to complain. At least there was some semblance of meat in it this time…even if it did look a little gray and sat heavy in his stomach.

"I almost expected to find you back in your cabin and sleeping," Trevelyan says as he joins Dorian by the fire.

"And miss the party? Perish the thought!" Dorian says with a smirk. "Yes, I'm a bit tired, but this victory was well earned. I'll admit I might turn in soon enough."

"Everyone deserves the rest," Trevelyan smiles. "Especially the mages. I've heard closing the Breach drained them. Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine with some rest," Dorian assures him. "Don't show me special attention. I wasn't the only one who risked their life."

"I only wondered if the exhaustion went beyond what the mages claim." The Herald says. "Sometimes I feel like they put on a brave face."

"Maybe some do. You are the Herald after all. What you've done to stop the Breach is more than the help they offered. Not to mention that you took them all in when they were banished from Ferelden."

"I did what was right."

"And they are grateful." Dorian says before putting the last bit of food into his mouth. "Not just the mages. Half of Thedas at the very least."

When the Herald remains quiet, Dorian hands off his empty bowl before getting up and making his way to his cabin for the night. He was exhausted and depleted of his mana, but he didn't lie when he told Trevelyan that all he needed was a good night's sleep. But halfway to his destination, an explosion bursts in the sky and he startles before turning and following the Herald and his advisors to the gate. There, he found out that closing the Breach only started something bigger. They were being attacked by a self proclaimed Tevinter darkspawn who had infected the templars with red lyrium.

Templars that were practically at their gates.

The strange boy that came to warn them disappeared as if into thin air while he followed Trevelyan and few others to fend off the attack, but they were only able to do enough to get the villagers to safety. The avalanche they caused saved them time, but it was short lived when an Archdemon appeared. Everyone was forced to fall back and Dorian assisted the Herald with finding anybody possibly stuck or lagging behind.

"Fall back to the chantry!" Dorian hears the commander over the explosions.

It was as good a plan as any, and Dorian headed for the large building until he heard screams for help. There were still more stragglers and the red templars were closing in on them. There were fewer and fewer soldiers to help the defenseless and whoever remained was too preoccupied to help them.

Dorian knew he had to do something. He couldn't just seek shelter in the chantry and ignore the cries for help. If there was any chance these people could survive, he was going to help them. No matter how exhausted he was. He had very little mana but there were still ways to use magic without using blood…at least one way.

It wasn't exactly a common practice. It was frowned upon because it was almost a guarantee the mage would open their body to be possessed by a demon…but if it helped one person…

Dorian turned away from the safety of the village chantry and stood on the ledge before drawing on the last remaining bits of his magic. He directed bolts of lightning at every templar that got close to a fleeing villager, and when his mana was completely depleted, he focused on his very life. His essence. He drew on that and his power exploded. His staff was cast away in favor of allowing the magic to flow freely from his hands, his fingertips, to any enemy that dared approach or attempt to take a life. His control was waning rapidly though. Dorian could feel it slipping as his storm magic shot out and hit random areas that were fortunately free of innocent people. He could hear the demons whispering in his ear to let go. 

Let go of your control and let us help.

It was tempting. Dorian's willpower was dwindling and the pain of drawing from his own life force was becoming unbearable. He felt like his skin was melting and his lungs burned…then he realized they burned because he was crying out from the pain. Crying out from trying to keep control for as long as humanly possible. Dorian didn't expect to call me out of this alive, but the longer he kept control, the longer the people would survive.

But the demons crept closer and he could hear their distorted laughter ringing louder by the second. Their attempts to possess him were becoming more aggressive and easier. Dorian could practically feel their outstretched hands–

"Enough."

That single word sent the demons away with an angry screech and Dorian's magic was severed, leaving him to slump back into waiting arms. Somewhere in the far recesses of his mind, he was grateful for those arms because his strength was non-existent. If he was told to run, he knew he wouldn't be able to obey. His survival now relied on whoever had the heart to save him from the fate he damned himself to.

Dorian floated between oblivion and consciousness after he was lifted. The pain had dampened since his magic was severed, but it still remained, crawling under his skin. He could feel his body trying to heal and his magic trying to return, but everything felt discombobulated. Like it wasn't sure where it belonged anymore. Dorian remembered waking just long enough to feel himself shaking but what was causing it remained to be seen. The pain? The chaos? Perhaps the cold?

All of it.

"Blessed...who stand before…corrupt and the wicked…falter. …the peacekeepers…champions…just."

Dorian heard the prayers. Parts of it at least when part of his mind was conscious. But soon he completely succumbed to oblivion. There was no pain, no dreams…there was nothing. When he finally woke up to full consciousness since his magic was cut off, he was able to open his eyes. The pain still trembled underneath his skin but at least he felt a little more normal. Which was putting it lightly. 

The first thing he noticed was how quiet it was. How long had he been unconscious? There were no explosions, no screaming…in fact, if Dorian really listened, he could hear the occasional whisper. Then things became more apparent. Such as the mattress he was lying on, the heavy fur keeping him warm, and the roof over his head. He almost thought maybe it had all been a bad dream and he was still in Minrathous, but the pain wasn't going away. 

And when his magic didn't heed his call for a simple magelight, reality crashed onto him like ice water. It sent Dorian into a panic and he struggled with the fur draped over him but it was like fighting with the bear it must have belonged to. He didn't have the strength and he almost fell out of bed in his distress, but he was suddenly stopped and held in place.

"Lord Pavus, you are still weak. Please stay in bed," the healer standing over Dorian's bed looks at him calmly as he gently helps the mage get comfortable again. 

"Where–" Dorian winces at the raw feeling in his throat and the croak that came out from disuse.

"Safe in Skyhold. The Inquisitor helped us escape Haven and led us to a fortress in the Frostback Mountains. You've been asleep for almost two weeks now." The man says. "It's a miracle you survived. You saved many lives and there are many that wish to thank you."

Dorian weakly holds up a hand to stop the healer. "I didn't…didn't do it for praise."

Maker, it was a chore just speaking a single sentence, and it must have been obvious on his face because the healer stepped away, coming back a few minutes later with a bowl. It steamed and the smell made Dorian's stomach rumble loudly, even if it did end up being a simple broth. Despite his lack of strength, Dorian adamantly refused to be spoon fed and had the healer put the bowl in his lap. Dorian's hand trembled with the spoon as he filled it and slowly brought it to his mouth, but he managed. Half of it was gone before his hand gave out and made him drop the spoon into the remaining broth.

Then another hand reached out to grab the spoon and the bowl and Dorian looked up to find Trevelyan smiling at him with a mixture of kindness and relief.

"Please let me help. I promise not to tell anyone." He says softly.

Dorian shoved aside his pride and nodded once, opening his mouth when the other man brought the spoon to his mouth. The first few moments passed in silence, admittedly awkward for Dorian, but his hunger won out.

"I've never seen anything like it," Trevelyan says. "What you did in Haven…you looked like you were glowing because of how much magic you were using. Everyone said that you would be possessed and that we should leave you to distract them so we could get away. But…" Trevelyan pauses as he helps Dorian eat another spoonful of broth. "I couldn't leave you behind like that."

Dorian blinks at him in surprise. "You were the one to stop me?"

"No. As much as I wanted to, I didn't have the means to, and someone else beat me to it anyway." The other man admits. "Cullen approached you–"

Dorian chokes on his next serving of broth and stares at Trevelyan in bewilderment. "The commander? Why?"

The Inquisitor shrugs. "I haven't asked. But he walked up to you, using his shield to deflect your magic, and when he grabbed your arm, you seemed to…collapse. Cullen picked you up and carried you away from Haven with the survivors. He's been close ever since, standing vigil nearby. I had to send him to get some rest just this morning."

"He thinks I'm a danger," Dorian realizes until Trevelyan shakes his head.

"No. He was worried that you would never wake up. Cullen was quite adamant that you didn't pose a danger when Vivienne brought up the possibility."

How could Cullen be so sure of that? Dorian wasn't, but it wasn't something he would willingly admit out loud. The second he gave any outward notion that he believed he could be possessed, he would be made Tranquil. Something he briefly panicked already happened, but none of his emotions felt muted and he could still feel the Fade despite how distorted it still felt. His magic was still there. It made him wonder how Cullen stopped him. Dorian had his suspicions about the man no longer taking lyrium, and even a templar actively taking it was never able to calm a mage when they did what Dorian did. The attempts were very few and far between in recorded history, and all failed…so how did Cullen do it?

"How…" Dorian mumbles. "It's supposed to be impossible."

"He said something about using a form of Silence. It only works with physical touch." Trevelyan sets the now empty bowl aside. "He could probably explain it better than I can, but you should rest for now. It's past midnight."

Dorian nods in agreement and slowly lays back down. He could feel sleep coming on and his body was already heavy. What happened at Haven was something to be pondered about later when Dorian's mind was less jumbled and it could understand whatever needed to be explained to him.

"I…thank you." Dorian mumbles.

"Thank you. A lot of us survived because of what you did."

"I was just doing the right thing." Dorian murmurs, echoing what Trevelyan has said to him that fateful night. 

Clearly the man was rubbing off on him.

[elisaphoenix13-cullrian]

Barely Breathing (BSA) (Ch.2)

A week passed…then two…and then a month later, Dorian found himself pulled away from Haven to run around the Hinterlands with still no visit from the commander. He supposed it was to be expected. He even had to admit to himself that maybe he had read the man wrong. Maybe his offer hadn't been genuine after all and it was all just some elaborate test that he didn't understand. Southerners did have savage tendencies didn't they? Their templars were a perfect example. Forget the fact that they forcefully ripped magic from mages to apprehend them…they actually consumed lyrium. That was not something to be consumed by a non-mage.

Dorian could only imagine what it was doing to their bodies. He had already heard the tragic stories of southern templars losing themselves because the lyrium had taken its toll on their minds and bodies. How long until the Commander fell with the rest of them?

But then he paused. That evening…now he thought back on it, the Commander hadn't smelled like lyrium. At least not like the templars he had come across. In fact, Dorian didn't even sense it. He didn't realize it until now though…but maybe Cullen simply hadn't taken his dose yet.

"Don't think too hard, Vint. You'll get wrinkles." Bull says from beside Dorian, who wrinkles his nose from the repulsive smell coming off the Qunari. Didn't he take baths?

"Could you please stand downwind from me? If I have to smell you, at least give me a distance of ten feet." Dorian criticizes.

Of course Iron Bull completely ignores him. "What are you thinking so hard about anyway? You haven't been with us very long but you're never this quiet."

"Trying to figure out how to dunk you in the nearest lake," Dorian answers. "Haven't you heard of oils or, Maker forbid, soap?"

"Too flowery."

Dorian's lip turns up in disgust, but a part of him assumes that Bull is only trying to get a rise out of him because the Qunari has had plenty of bodies to warm his bed. And they weren't Qunari. Not even a whore would put up with the stench he was giving off right now.

"Then you can sleep under the stars tonight. I refuse to share a tent with you." Dorian says as they follow the Herald to another rift. The man wanted to close a few just so he had a good handle on how to use the power in his hand, so they were all more likely to succeed in closing the Breach. It still loomed above them with its sickly green color and Dorian was just as eager as the rest of the world to get it closed.

Everyone was ready, it was all just a matter of Trevelyan feeling confident enough that he'll be able to close the thing. From earlier conversations, it was possible that they would get it done as soon as they returned to Haven. 

Dorian's thoughts were put on hold as the rift opened when they neared it, and he was forced to focus on killing the demons that came out of it. Simple enough. Fortunately, because he had actually sneezed mid cast and lightning burst from his fingertips and found its target on the remaining sloth demon. After the Herald closed the rift, Dorian brushed away the dirt on his robes and sniffled.

"Ah…excuse me." He says nonchalantly.

Sera glances at him warily. "Do you always sneeze magic like that?"

"I was in the middle of casting. I'm more likely to do something like that if I get too excited in bed." Dorian says with a slight grin.

"Ugch. Sorry I asked," The elf grimaces and Dorian laughs.

"If we head back now, we should make it back to Haven by nightfall." Trevelyan says, interrupting the conversation. "Is anyone injured?"

"Nothing Dorian can't kiss better," Iron Bull chuckles.

"Not even in your dreams." Dorian snorts before turning and walking back to where they left their horses.

It was a short walk since they only had to leave them where the horses couldn't trod, and once they were all mounted, they immediately set off for Haven. Dorian would have protested the trip if it had been past noon, but it was only mid morning and he preferred hours of horseback riding than someone making an attempt on his life at every turn. While the enemies of the Inquisition had the decency of bellowing their intentions, and enemies Dorian may have had weren't as daring.

He was still expecting poison in his ale.

Of course, the people had relaxed more in the past month, but there would always be someone that held a grudge. Not even for Dorian, just for his homeland. And he was the closest they were going to get to it. He had to admit though, the tension was less and he felt a little more at ease.

Not to mention that he was starting to get comfortable with testing certain buttons on the illustrious commander. Dorian still chose his battles carefully, but a flirt here and there was working out to be safe and seeing the other man squirm was magnificent. It almost gave him a high. He still played it safe just in case it ended up chasing Cullen away altogether.

And then he had a thought.

What if it already was?

What if his harmless teasing and flirting was the reason the commander hadn't come to find him for a game of chess? In fact, why did Dorian care so much? Not having Cullen around would be one less person to watch his every move…but maybe a part of Dorian hoped that Cullen really was just looking to be friends. Dorian could count how many of those he had on one hand and he certainly could use a couple more here in the South. He didn't think he could quite call anyone a friend yet. They were still acquaintances…just more familiar than they were a month ago.

Dorian spent the entire trip back to Haven ignoring Bull's attempts to flirt with him–and also tried to stay upwind, he really did smell to high heaven–and Sera's random commentary about anything that came up. He was pretty sure he heard her say something about pants and figured he was better off not knowing. The discussion of pants when it came to Sera usually boiled down to the fact that she stole them. Although, the story Varric told him when they met her was amusing.

"Is there something resembling a bath in Haven?" Dorian asks when the gates of the small village come into view. "If I have to use the washbasin again, I might just scream."

Trevelyan looked over his shoulder at Dorian and the expression he wore was enough of an answer for the mage. "Sorry, Dorian. Josephine is trying but she says that some things are more important than others."

The mage answers with a heavy sigh, remaining quiet for the rest of the ride, and then almost falling off his horse when he dismounts. Hours of riding made his legs numb but he supposed he would eventually get used to it. For now, he let the stable hand take his horse's reins and then made his way through the gates and to his shared cabin. He felt wobbly for the first few feet, but feeling quickly came back and he almost wanted the numbness back.

His legs were sore. Everything was sore if he were honest. Dorian was by no means out of shape, but he wasn't used to riding horseback or hiking the Hinterlands for hours on end. A long, hot bath sounded like heaven to him, but he would have to make do with a quick wipe down at the basin and maybe a quick nap. 

The cabin was empty when Dorian walked into it, and he loudly groaned out his relief as he dropped his pack onto his cot, and then stripped away his armor so he could strip off the top part of his ensemble. He tossed it onto his bed with the rest of his belongings before grabbing the clean rag hanging over the lip of the wash basin, warmed the water with his magic, and then wiped away the week of dirt from his body.

He would have seriously considered taking a dip in the lake above camp if he had known he would have to bathe like this again. At least then he would have gotten a majority of the grime off.

His boots and pants went next, and Dorian made quick work of cleaning up so he could dress in some clean clothes that he had picked up in Redcliffe. The small clothes were changed as well after he thoroughly washed, and when he was dressed, Dorian very nearly fell into his bed. Sleep came easily for him after he pulled his thin blanket up to his chin, and when he woke again, it was because of the morning sun shining directly into his eyes.

"Fasta vass," Dorian curses quietly, covering his eyes from the bright light.

His stomach grumbled loudly in protest and Dorian was forced to get up and put his boots on so he could head to the tavern for some breakfast. Or the gruel they called breakfast. Dorian hadn't expected to sleep through the night, but he had, and now he was starving since the last time he had eaten was 24 hours earlier.

When he stepped out of the cabin, Dorian was almost tempted to walk right back in and into the warmth of his bed. It was only comfortable when he was dead on his feet. Barely warm unless a fire was stoked. Instead, he forced himself forward and down to the tavern where he retrieved his meal from Flissa with a smile and then found a table to sit at. Considering it was mid morning, the tavern was practically empty save for one or two people, and even Sera wasn't in her usual corner.

"I went to your cabin but you weren't there," a voice says from beside Dorian, making him startle. When he looks up, he huffs when he finds Cullen. In full armor. Either Dorian was too engrossed in his own thoughts or the commander just knew how to move silently.

"Somebody should put a bell on you. I thought I would be able to hear you stomping around in that armor of yours a mile away." Dorian grouses before sticking a spoonful of gruel into his mouth.

"It is not my intention to…" Cullen trails off and shifts his footing before saying, "...the Herald said he had not seen you since you arrived last night. I came to see if you were alright and if you were…if I could ask you for that game of chess."

Dorian looks back up at him in surprise. "Don't you have soldiers to train? I imagine one or two of them are holding their swords by the pointy bit."

Cullen rubs the back of his neck. "Normally, yes…but the Herald wishes to close the Breach today. We thought it best to let the soldiers rest until then. There's no telling what kind of demons will come out of it or how many."

"Something tells me that you aren't resting of your own will," Dorian says, smirking when Cullen grimaces in response. He knew the commander enough that Dorian knew that the other man would be running around Haven until the very last moment to make sure that everything was ready. "I'm guessing it was our dear Herald's orders?"

"He suggested that I find something relaxing to do if I won't take the time to get some sleep," Cullen admits with a sigh. "I did promise you a game of chess and it will help keep my mind off of things."

"Very well Commander. I'll accept being your alibi for the afternoon." Dorian says as he takes another bite of his food.

"I…no. I didn't mean–"

"I know." Dorian interrupts. "I'll finish my breakfast and then we can play chess to your heart's content. Where will we be setting up?"

Cullen shoulders drop in relief. "There's a board set up in one of the rooms in the chantry."

"I won't be but a moment." Dorian says, and the commander nods before turning and leaving the tavern. He went almost as silently as he came and Dorian cursed the man for being so comfortable in heavy armor that it was like a second skin to him.

True to his word, Dorian finished his meal shortly after the commander left and took the bowl up to Flissa to be washed. He thanked her with a smile before he left the tavern and made his way up to the chapel for his scheduled game of chess. If anything, it was as good an excuse as any to get inside and warm up. Not that anyone had actually told him to stay out of the building. But he preferred not to have the chantry hens looking down their noses at them or mumbling such nonsense like "blood magic". He despised it as much as they did. If not more.

They didn't really need to know why though. It would only give everyone even more of a reason to look at him sideways. Just when they were starting to warm up to his presence.

"Indulge me, Commander. Why–" Dorian starts as he opens a door further in the chapel until he runs face first into what felt like a wall. Once he regains his bearings, he finds himself looking at none other than Cullen. Who was looking apologetic.

"Ah…I'm sorry, Dorian. Something came up that needs my attention. We'll have to try another time for chess." Cullen apologizes.

Dorian was a little miffed that he was practically sent on a wild goose chase but he understood. "It's alright Commander. Duty calls and all of that." He brushes off an invisible speck of dust from his shoulder. "Don't let me keep you."

Cullen apologizes again before skirting by him to leave the room and Dorian looks into the room at the small table set up with a chess board. It would be a shame for him to come for no reason and it had been a while since he played, so Dorian opted to play a game with himself to practice. It would keep him out of the cold for a little while at least.

When he sat down and moved his first piece, he tried to ignore how small and dark the room was.

[elisaphoenix13-cullrian]

My current attention span. 🤣🤣