Begin Act I: Clear Skies

Cullen glanced up when someone knocked on the door frame. "Come– Oh, Inquisitor." Hastily he stood, her height always catching him at a disadvantage. "I didn't hear news of your return."

Sihaya shook her horned head. "That's probably because you were elbow deep in your paperwork again," she told him as she approached. Her hand took his chin in a no-nonsense fashion, and she tilted his head back and forth. "I talked to Cassandra. She said you didn't keep your promise. And your cheeks are hollow again." Taking the piece of paper still in his hand, she dropped it onto the table and pointed to her left. "Go. Now."

Startled, Cullen glanced up at his holey roof. "It's night-time. It won't be read–"

"I told the staff before I left to keep the gears going at night specifically for you. And that reserved time slot I made for you is still on the schedule." She crossed her arms over her chest, her scarred face pairing with an implacable air that always served to remind him that this was not a woman easily swayed. "You have a headache right now, don't try to deny it. I need you in prime condition, Commander. We have the facilities. Use them." She pointed again. "Now march. And you'd better not be back here for at least two hours."

"Inquisitor–" he began, then stopped when her eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. One did not say no to Sihaya Adaar when she was in that mood. "Yes, Inquisitor. Right away."

"Two hours, Cullen." With one final glare, she turned and left the room, ducking slightly to avoid hitting her horns on the door frame. She was tall, even for a Qunari, and he often felt like an elf next to her.

With a sigh, he looked at his incomplete paperwork for a moment, then noticed that simply doing so made his eyes burn. Shaking his head, he climbed to his loft and retrieved his bathing kit. For a moment he debated whether or not to bring the healing balm, then sighed and snagged it as well. Weapon practice wasn't getting any easier, especially since today had been a full armor and full headache day, which Cassandra had known perfectly well before unleashing herself upon him. Trying to prove a point, Cass, I get it, he thought ruefully as he threw it all in a towel which he heaved over his shoulder before climbing back down and heading out into the night.

He nodded to the patrols on the ramparts as he walked to his destination, a previously empty tower which had been transformed after the Inquisitor had sat down for a good long talk with Dagna and Gatsi about Skyhold and the odd remnants of ancient machinery they'd found in a dusty storeroom beneath the empty tower next to the stable. Gatsi still viewed it as Skyhold's crowning achievement, and the resulting glory had been quickly dubbed the Skyhold Steam Station.

As he opened the door, the chill of the night was quickly blasted away by the moist warmth that washed over him. Though the entrance room wasn't steamy, it was definitely hotter than outside, and promised at what lay beyond the small changing rooms where the visitors to the Steam Station left their belongings in a cubby and grabbed a towel for the rest of their stay inside. After wrapping the towel around his waist and another one to hang loosely around his neck, Cullen pushed through into the dimness of the main steam room.

With a sigh, he found a bench and sagged down into it, head falling back against the wall as he just enjoyed the heat for a few moments. He wasn't sure he could last an entire two hours, no matter what Sihaya insisted - he knew his nerves at being in an enclosed space with no windows would get the better of him eventually. Still, for a short time, it was relaxing. As he set his hand on the lid of the oil container, however, he realized that he'd forgotten a scraper. It was such a relief to finally sit and do nothing in a darkened room that was so blessedly warm (a treat after both Haven and Skyhold) that it took a moment to force himself to his feet and advance back to the entrance.

When he collided unexpectedly with someone coming in, he instinctively reached out and caught the other person, preventing their fall through sheer reflex. "Oh! Beg pardon. I wasn't expecting anyone else."

"Evidently not," a slightly peevish voice responded, one Cullen recognized immediately. "And you seem to have developed the fascinating habit of not letting me fall on my ass, Commander. I'd thank you, if it also didn't make me feel a bit of a buffoon."

Cullen smiled as he released Dorian, not really sure what to say to that. The two men hadn't really talked much after Haven, aside from a stiff apology from both sides for their argument in the Chantry, and settling into a new routine in Skyhold had occupied most of Cullen's time. Besides, Dorian was Sihaya's first choice for a mage when she traveled, though Cullen wasn't sure if it were an act of friendship or suspicion on her part. Certainly the mask Dorian habitually wore, figuratively if not quite as literally as Orlesians did, also maintained a distance between himself and the rest of the Inquisition. "Good evening to you too, Dorian. That was entirely my fault this time. I just forgot to grab a scraper before coming in."

"Ah," Dorian said. "I forget you southerners aren't used to steam baths yet. That's easily remedied." Dorian disappeared for a moment and then reappeared, holding out the special curved stick to Cullen. "There you are. Now, you will let me join you, won't you?"

Cullen gave him a puzzled look as he took the scraper. "Why wouldn't you?"

Dorian's mouth curved upwards. "Apparently the Inquisitor thinks quite highly of you. She reserved the whole damned bath for you, at this time, in perpetuity. I can see it now." He held up his hands and moved them as if highlighting a sign on a building. "Cullen's Bath Time. Shall I get you a wooden ducky?"

With a laugh, Cullen shook his head. "That won't be necessary. And of course you can use the premises. It's built to hold forty people, for Maker's sake. She's just… making a point." He gestured to the benches from which he'd come. "You can tell me about Crestwood. When did you get back? Did you find Hawke's Warden friend?"

"We got back about an hour ago," Dorian told him as they sat down on the bench. While they relaxed, he spent some time regaling Cullen with a very colorful rendition of all the horrible things they'd had to do in Crestwood before they had finally sought out the cave where the Warden was hiding. "Imagine it, Commander! Me! One of the Imperium's most majestic sons, slogging through the mud and muck of a long-drowned city, looking for a flooded, demon-infested cave. I had weeds on my armor, weeds!" His mustache was practically quivering with indignation. "And then the Inquisitor harvested them right off of me. Spindleweeds or some such. Honestly."

Cullen found himself holding his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter as the man gave a surprisingly military account of the fight against the rift demons, even if the telling was full of colorful imprecations against the dubious parentage of said demons and the undead they'd fought along the way. "And then she dragged me through some sort of old dwarven ruins - damp, dark, and dirty ones, at that! And all that was before we even found the Warden! Honestly, Commander, the Inquisitor is going to be the death of me."

By that point, Cullen wasn't able to hold back his laughter. "I can see why you wanted to come here as soon as you made your report," he said with amusement as he opened the oil vase between then and dipped his hands in it to spread over his body.

"Oh, laugh while you still can. She'll get you on the field someday, I'm sure of it," Dorian warned with a waggle of his finger before he followed Cullen's lead. "My advice? Stay on her good side. Her bad side is terrifying to behold."

Cullen chuckled. "Cassandra told me much the same thing. She's bold, our Inquisitor. I generally approve, even if sometimes Josephine has to hold onto her quill with a tighter grip than other times."

Dorian laughed at that as he began to scrape the oil and dirt away. "True, she isn't the most diplomatic of leaders. She's effective though. And honestly, even if, as I suspect, she doesn't particularly like me, the Inquisitor has earned my eternal loyalty by resurrecting that old steam machine below. Amazing to think that a Vashoth would recognize such a thing."

"Didn't she say her father was an engineer for the Qunari once?" Cullen asked, scraping his own shoulder.

The conversation continued at an idle pace until both men were clean. Setting the scrapers into the bin to be cleaned, they stood. Cullen waved Dorian on ahead. "I'll be right there."

"As you say, Commander," Dorian replied, already removing his towel as he sauntered towards the next room.

By the time Cullen had retrieved his balm and joined Dorian in the soaking room, Dorian was up to his neck in cool water of the large pool, eyes closed and arms floating to either side. Setting his towel aside and putting the little bottle on it for later, Cullen eased himself in with a sigh. They had been in the steam room a bit overlong due to the conversation, after all, and his skin was glowing a healthy reddish pink by this point.

"I want to thank you again, Commander," Dorian noted as Cullen got comfortable.

"For what?" Cullen asked, relishing the feel of the water on his overheated skin.

Dorian took a deep breath, then exhaled sharply. "For letting me stay, of course. What else could I possibly mean?" The water moved, and Cullen lifted his head to see Dorian submerge himself completely in the pool before standing, squeezing the water from his hair. "Where is the– Ah." Edging past Cullen, he retrieved one of the towels set aside for hair. "Pardon," he murmured, then pulled back and started drying his hair.

The comment, and the tone with which it was delivered, were so odd that Cullen wasn't quite sure how to respond. "As I said, you are welcome to use this place whenever you prefer."

He wasn't sure why the words made a subtle tension leave Dorian, but it was noticeable. "Again, you have my thanks. You're not such a bad fellow after all."

That made Cullen grin. "You're obviously not one of my troops," he told Dorian. "They generally have a different opinion, especially on the mornings I take them out on pre-dawn runs."

"Out there?" Dorian asked, aghast, and visibly shuddered when Cullen nodded. "I take it all back. You are a terrible man."

"I try," Cullen said with a smirk.

"Then I shall leave you to contemplate your actions," Dorian said in a mock severe voice. "I bid you good night, Commander. Hopefully you won't terrorize too many of your soldiers before we meet again."

Cullen chuckled as he let his eyes drift shut. A great sloshing told him that Dorian had removed himself from the water, with the slippy-slappy footsteps following the man around the room as he retrieved his towel and began to dry off. "I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you," Cullen told him.

Dorian simply snorted after that sally. "At least I'll have my breath, Commander. I certainly don't intend on letting you steal it away."

"I hardly think that will be a concern between us." Cullen couldn't believe how relaxed he felt. His headache had gone, lifted away somewhere with all the steam, and the company, though unexpected, had proven quite enjoyable. At least Dorian wasn't likely to snap his heels and salute, give him orders, or treat him warily because of his past or his present. The man's boldness had proven oddly refreshing. Cullen hadn't had many friends, particularly since the Blight, and he'd almost forgotten what is was like to enjoy the company of another. "Though I wouldn't mind stealing your company now and again."

"Oh?" Dorian asked, that one syllable at once both wary and curious, enough to make Cullen look up with a furrowed brow. "In what manner, exactly?"

Unsure of the reason behind the obvious reluctance, Cullen gave a little shrug. "It simply occurs to me that there aren't that many in Skyhold outside my chain of command that I could talk to like this," Cullen explained. "Say what you will, your description of fighting the demons was more than entertaining, it was intelligent. Given the reports I have to slog through every day, it made me wish you were writing them instead of Jim and, well, the other Jim."

Dorian's shoulders relaxed, and he chuckled. "I'm glad you find me so enthralling, Commander. And I'm… flattered, actually. There aren't many who would choose to spend time with someone such as I."

Cullen thought about it for a moment, and suddenly a lot of little hints and clues dropped into place about Dorian's odd little reactions. "I take it you are not finding a great deal of enthusiasm to your presence here?" he asked.

"Oh, now, whatever gave you that impression?" Dorian asked with a light laugh, and Cullen realized that his mask was firmly in place again. "An apostate mage from the Tevinter Imperium? And a magister at that? Never mind the fact I am not a magister, or that my arrival at Haven was–" Dorian stopped, then abruptly smiled at Cullen, though his eyes remained dull. "Does it matter? I'm not here to win some sort of contest for popularity, Commander. The Venatori simply have a great deal for which to answer. However," Dorian mused, as if it were an afterthought, "if your offer is still on the table, I would be inclined to accept it. For your sake, of course. I would feel absolutely wretched if a man of your caliber had no one with which to spend convivial time."

"Of course," Cullen replied, mouth widening in a grin. "How very gracious of you."

"I am nothing if not the epitome of grace," Dorian said with a little bow.

"I have no doubt," Cullen replied. "Which begs the question… do you play chess? The gardeners uncovered an old but still serviceable chess table in the gardens while you were gone. And before you ask, I do happen to have a set of chess pieces."

Dorian laughed, the sound almost genuine, now that Cullen was more attuned to his mannerisms. "Happen to have a set. Yes, because that is obviously the first thing anyone grabs before fleeing a doomed village when a massive army of Venatori invade." A chuckle lingered as Dorian turned back to the sheet of metal on the wall that served as a mirror in the cooling room.

Cullen frowned as something about the man's back caught his attention, and pulled himself from the water without much forethought. Grabbing his ointment and towel, the latter to wrap around his waist, he walked to Dorian. When the man turned to face him, the wariness had returned to his face, but Cullen just made a circling gesture. "No, turn back around. Let me see that."

"Ah. I forgot the lighting is better in here. I had hoped it would go unremarked," Dorian sighed, though he obediently turned around.

Drying his hands quickly, Cullen lightly touched Dorian's back around the edges of the large blotch he found. "What is this? What happened?"

"Those rage demons I mentioned, naturally," the man replied with a nonchalant air. "I'm too pretty to die, but not, apparently, to burn. The Inquisitor was of tremendous aid, but… well. It looks much better than it did last week. I'm resigned to being rather unpresentable and grumpy until it heals completely, of course."

Cullen frowned, then gestured to one of the benches used for those waiting for a chance at the pool when the Steam Station was more crowded. "Sit down."

For a moment Dorian hesitated, then finally nodded and moved to the indicated bench. "As you wish. I'm not sure what you intend to do, however," he said in a somewhat peevish tone as he took his seat.

Cullen settled in behind him, prying open the bottle and pouring a small amount on his hands. After a couple of rubs to spread it across his fingers, he said, "This will sting, then grow cold, but it will help. I promise."

Dorian's nostrils flared as Cullen leaned forward, gauging where best to apply the balm. "Is that… lyrium?"

Distracted by the task at hand, Cullen nodded. "And elfroot. And a little bit of arbor blessing, prophet's laurel… It's… a bit of a hodge podge, actually. And then there's the spell that binds it together." Gently he began to work the liquid into Dorian's wound, starting at the top. He chuckled softly when the man hissed. "Sorry about that. It stings at first, especially on burn wounds. Still, I don't know of anything better for helping wounds, particularly those inflicted by demons and magic."

"Ah, so it's made specifically for Templars, then?" Dorian surmised. "Southern Templars, I should say. The northern ones are too reliant upon the Magisters to dare craft such a thing openly."

Cullen's brows raised at the comment, but he nodded. "Aye. It is something I have sorely missed since leaving the order, so I had Leliana, ah, acquire some for me once the Inquisitor conscripted the remaining Templars." His tone still held a note of bitterness about that decision, but it wasn't his place to do more than voice his opinion - which he had, with strength. "Who knows if any more can be made when the current supplies are used up?"

Dorian's head turned at that, looking over his shoulder as best as he could to look at Cullen, though the latter's attention was mainly taken up with applying the balm with the least amount of pain inflicted as possible. "So there is a limited supply, then?"

"Very. On a bad day, I will use it on my muscles" and head "but obviously your wound should take precedence. After all, who knows when the Inquisitor will take you out again?"

"Who, indeed?" Dorian fell silent after that, though when Cullen moved away, he turned himself around on the bench. "So that's it? One treatment?"

Cullen considered the extent of the wound. "Possibly one more. I'd have to see it in a couple of days to know better. Don't sleep on your back tonight, or in any clothing, but do cover up with a light sheet. No pressure, but covered is the key."

Dorian's mouth opened, then closed again as he bowed his head. When he looked up at Cullen, a small smile was on his lips, but more importantly, the warmth of humor in his previously dull grey eyes. "So now I have to see you again. Clever, Commander."

For a moment, Cullen just looked at him, blinking, then laughed. The comment distracted him from the urge to rub the stuff under his nose just so he could smell the lyrium, though. "A thank you wouldn't be amiss, but no, that isn't why I helped you." He sealed the bottle carefully, not wasting a single drop, and looked up at Dorian with a relaxed smile. "The Inquisition needs us at our best."

The warmth drained from Dorian's eyes, and the little smile was replaced so quickly by a larger one and a laugh so real that Cullen had to look in Dorian's eyes to see the lie. "So pragmatic, Commander! And here I thought for a moment you might actually enjoy my company!"

Cullen allowed a hint of his exasperation to show through as he said, "I thought I had already told you that I do enjoy it. Now, what would be a good time for that first chess match tomorrow?" Instinctively he knew that if he gave Dorian the chance to back out of it, the man would with an elegant bow and a smile. Not a chance. I will not let another endure the echo of loneliness as I did for so long. "Perhaps following the midday meal?"

Dorian seemed a bit taken aback by how neatly Cullen had turned it around, but then he just nodded. "Ah, yes, that would be most delightful. Where is this chess table again?"

As Cullen told him, he stood and clapped his hand on Dorian's shoulder. "And don't think you can avoid it, either," he added before moving back to the water, tugging the towel from his waist and leaning over to drop both towel and balm to the ground before easing into the water again. When there was no response, he looked to Dorian. "Is that understood?"

Shaking his head as if snapping out of a trance, the man nodded and rose to his feet, giving Cullen an elegant bow only slightly marred by the fact that his towel began to fall away from his waist. "Oh so very clear," the man said, gracefully catching the towel before his dignity was compromised. "I won't abandon you, fear you not."

Cullen chuckled and leaned his head back. "See you then, Dorian. I look forward to it."

He heard Dorian gather his belongings. "Enjoy your last few hours of not knowing the agony of being defeated by a Master of the game."

"Odd, I thought that was my line," Cullen quipped with a grin.

"Such sass, Commander! We'll see how it survives tomorrow's trouncing," Dorian replied, sounding more like his old self once more.

With a wave of his hand, Cullen said, "Mine will. Yours? We'll see."

Dorian just chuckled, but didn't say anything more before he left the room, leaving Cullen to enjoy the quiet for a few moments.

A quiet that, oddly enough, now seemed empty rather than a welcome calm from the chaos that was his normal day. Though he'd been intending to stay longer, Cullen found himself back in his office before too long, and was astonished to find that much more than two hours had passed.

With a smile on his face, he began to dig through his chest for the bag of chess pieces. Time to see if all that practice with Mia will pay off.