The pulsing green light filled the air around him as Cullen rallied the Inquisition forces to meet the waves of demons which fell from the breach in the sky. Blood and ichor met and merged on the stones beneath his feet as his sword cut through them over and over again. His mind struggled with the sight of the Breach which once more disrupted the sky above the Temple of the Sacred Ashes, the green pallor it cast reminding him all too clearly of other times he had fought demons in the sickly light of the Fade. Now, however, the stakes were much higher than one fortress and his own sanity, more even than the life of the Divine herself. The Herald of Andraste fought a madman who would claim the mantle of the Maker, and that he would gladly fight to his death to prevent.

There was no night and no day under that pulsating viridian glow from the sky above, only the unrelenting malice of the enemy. His voice roughened as he shouted orders to his soldiers, always moving to avoid falling victim to the unsteady ground as it rumbled and groaned beneath him. The uneven footing made the battle more of a challenge, but he did not falter, nor did the men and women around him. The Inquisitor fought for Thedas, and they could do no less.

Amidst the chaos and confusion of demons and soldiers and the restless earth, Cullen almost didn't notice what was happening in the distance - at least, not until he paused to catch his breath and look around the battlefield. Even when he saw it, comprehension was slow to come. His mouth dropped open as the Temple of Sacred Ashes wrenched itself from the ground and rose into the sky, moving with an eerie grace. When the red lyrium which made up its walls awoke and shone with new vigor, the crimson mixed with the green hue of the Breach above and cast a sickly yellow light over the land.

"He must be using the red lyrium!" Cassandra yelled as she came to stand next to Cullen. "Even Corypheus wouldn't have enough power to lift the entire Temple on his own."

"Perhaps he's drawing power through the Breach as well," Cullen shouted. "He's mad enough to use red lyrium in ways no sane man would consider. Who's to say he's not trying to draw magic from the Fade itself in his quest for power?"

Cassandra shook her head in bewilderment, even as her sword lashed out to sink into a nearby shade. "But why would he do this?"

Abruptly a bright aura appeared around a lower section of the soaring Temple, and Cullen immediately recognized it as the work of a powerful Knight-Enchanter. "He seeks to separate the Inquisitor from her support," he realized. "She must have fought her way to the Temple to confront him directly."

"Then we should do the same," Cassandra declared.

"Agreed." Pivoting to bash a nearby shriek, Cullen sank his blade into the thing's neck before yanking it out and raising his sword in a signal to those around him. "To me! We're taking the fight to the Temple and Corypheus himself!"

The answering shouts were perhaps less numerous than he would have preferred, but carried all the fervor he could wish for. Together he and Cassandra led the fight to the broken ground where once the Temple had rested, clashing with the demons once more as they swarmed from the Breach above. A brief conversation with Scout Harding confirmed what Cullen had guessed: Adaar and her chosen companions had engaged Corypheus just before the Temple had risen into the sky, leaving behind the demons to take out the Inquisition forces.

As his sword rose and fell, Cullen couldn't help but steal glances upwards, heart pounding for a reason other than physical exertion. He could clearly see the clash of spells reflected in the clouds over the soaring stones above, indicating that a battle of epic proportion was underway, one which would surely result in the end of either the Inquisitor or Corypheus.

And Dorian was up there with her.

A slash of pain in his arm snapped his attention from the floating fortress above, and he snarled as he used his shield to knock the rage demon in front of him back before his sword slashed across its front. Forcing his mind back on the fight, he surged forward with a renewed vigor.

Finally the furor of the onslaught slowed, and stream of demons falling from the Breach slowed to a trickle. Inevitably his gaze was drawn to the sky above, and on the Temple which hovered there. Every time a scatter of magic shone in the clouds, his hand tightened around the hilt of his sword until it ached.

When the first roar pierced the sky above, he reflexively brought his shield up in defense. As the dragon swept over them, he gaped up at it, then took a step back as another dragon appeared from the clouds above to slam into the first one with an ear-shattering shriek. As the first dragon began to fall towards the ground, Cullen shouted, "Fall back!" A flurry of activity followed, though in the end the dragon regained its altitude and turned to attack the other with a blast of fire. As the winged titans grappled each other, they disappeared above the floating ramparts into the clouds once more.

"Maker save us," Cassandra breathed. "Is that what the Inquisitor has to fight? Along with Corypheus?"

"Andraste keep them safe," Cullen whispered harshly, then shook himself and looked around at his scattered troops. Most of them simply looked a bit dazed from the battle and its aftermath, but as the shock faded, he saw the need for action. "Look sharp!" Striding into their midst, he snapped orders at people as he passed them. "We've wounded to tend to, and fallen to prepare for their final honors. The Inquisition still stands, and the Herald still fights!" Quickly he gave orders for the unwounded to take up the front line as the lightly wounded aided those more heavily injured from the field.

Once that was dealt with, he turned and moved to the forefront of his troops, waiting with sword and shield ready. At this point, that was all he could do.

For a moment, he closed his eyes and mouthed a prayer to the Maker before letting a small whisper slip out, a desperate entreaty for someone else entirely: "Come back to me."

You start awake from your battle stupor, fighting to open your eyes as a trickle of liquid warmth runs down your face. Forcing your eyelids apart, you push yourself to your feet, desperately searching through the wreckage of the Temple for the others. Surely they must have survived the onslaught of the beast before your last volley of magic sent it crashing to the ground. Surely.

Come back to me.

Ignoring the stabbing in your side as you summon a feeble barrier against the cold, you stumble towards a huddled form behind a rock. Relief fills you as you find a battered yet breathing dwarf, face covered with blood. Ignoring the consequences and the stench of sweet sourness, you gulp down the contents of a blue bottle and do what you can for him with a trickle of warm magic. "Come on, Varric," you murmur. "You haven't won my last sovereign yet."

A grin lifts one corner of Varric's mouth as he chuckles. "And it'd be a damn shame if I didn't, Sparkler." The dwarf shakes his head and tries to stand, but falls back almost immediately. Pulling a bottle which gleams red from his tunic, Varric pops the cork out and raises it in salute. "I'll need a moment, but I'll be right with you. I promise." You acknowledge him with a nod before turning to search for the others.

Come back to me.

Breath hissing through your teeth as each step causes a fresh surfeit of agony, you manage to reach the heap of gleaming metal and grey skin lying motionless under one of the dragon's legs. Though the gleaming gold breastplate is misshapen and bent, the chest beneath it still rises and falls. Your hands fall to rest on Bull's shoulder, giving the Qunari what magic and warmth you can despite the increasing chill in your own body. When Bull suddenly gasps and jerks to life, you don't bother to disguise the smile that comes to your lips even as you can't resist teasing the horned giant. "And here I thought the dragon might have done me a favor."

"Yeah, yeah," Bull grunted, then suddenly reaches up and pulls you down into a hug. "You'd miss me and you know it, Vint." After a moment, Bull pushes you away and reaches down to struggle against the weight pinning him down. "Just give me a moment to get this dragon off me and I'll be right with you. Promise."

"I'll hold you to that," you tell him as you ignore the pricking at the back of your eyes. "Maybe I'll even try that swill you call Qunari ale once this is all over." As Bull chuckles, you squeeze his shoulder one more time and rise to continue your search. There is still one person left to find, after all.

Come back to me.

You find her limp form far away from the others, flung with great force to dangle on the edge of the floating cobblestones. Ignoring the pain and the spreading stain at your side, you drag her away from the edge and then kneel beside her. Another bottle of blue twisted ecstasy is swallowed before you rest your hands on her forehead, calling the Inquisitor back from the Fade with all the healing magic and desperation you have at your disposal. "Please," you whisper. "Corypheus yet remains."

Lavender eyes rimmed with red suddenly open and stare into the cool grey of your own, and with a frown, she shoves you away. "I'm fine, Vint." Ignoring your gasp of pain, she stands and retrieves her staff, her hand stroking over the head of one of the snakes which had last graced Calpernia's shoulder. She watches you struggle to your feet with a calculating gaze, but makes no move to help. After a moment, her eyes flicker towards the stairs leading above, to the silhouette of the madman with the red orb glowing in his hand. "He will fall before me. They all will." Your blood turns to ice as her gaze returns to you, the faint whispers from the ancient Well closing around her as a fey light comes to her eyes. "You all will."

You raise your hands in silent pleading as her staff lowers to point at you. An instant is all you have to decide whether or not to act against her or accept the fate you have feared since the Temple of Mythal. For that bare moment, the life of the Inquisitor hangs in the balance, and beyond that, the fate of Thedas. Your eyes close as you make your choice, bracing for the impact of her assault. Then there is no time: no time for more than a gasp as the purple tendrils wrap around you, no time to fight the pain as it courses through your body, no time to speak as you are flung over the precipice.

No time save enough to see the cruel smile settle onto her lips as your body succumbs to the inevitable and plummets into the darkness. No time save enough to plead the forgiveness of the man you wish you could see one more time before that darkness swallows you whole.

"Come back to me." The words became a whispered mantra as Cullen maintained his vigil, eyes fixed on the sky and the battle above with his sword point grounded between his feet. Once it was clear that the fall of the demons from the rent in the sky had ceased, Cassandra came to join him, adapting a similar position with her helmet held under one arm. As time went on, others joined them, but far enough away to give the two their own space.

When Cassandra finally spoke, it came as a shock to his ears, though she spoke in a gentle tone. "They will return."

His only response was a tight nod, since he didn't trust his voice in that moment. His hands tightened around his hilt as a particularly bright explosion shook the floating Temple above. In a tight voice, he finally grated, "They must return."

"We must have faith in-" Cassandra began, then gasped and pointed upwards. "The Breach!"

Cullen's eyes snapped upwards in time to see the gaping gangrenous gouge in the sky convulse for a moment. "Brace yourselves!" he shouted as he fell to his knees with a clatter just as the shockwave hit. While he shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears, he looked up once more - in time to see the Temple begin its descent back to the ground. Without conscious thought his feet set into motion, his eyes locked on the floating ruin as he raced towards where it would likely land. He only came to a halt when the bricks impacted the ground, sending a shockwave out that staggered those approaching.

His breath caught when he saw silhouettes appear at the top of the stairs leading down to where everyone had gathered. The Inquisitor and Iron Bull were easy to spot, though Varric took a bit longer to emerge from the haze of darkness. He waited, a chill growing in his chest as his eyes remained locked on the empty archway, but no one else followed. When Adaar reached the bottom of the stairs, he shoved his way forward through the crowd awaiting her and demanded, "Where is Dorian?"

He saw Bull wince and look away as Adaar tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "I have defeated an ancient evil who wished to take on the mantle of a god, and that is how you greet me?"

Cullen gritted his teeth. "With respect for what you've accomplished, Inquisitor, my concern is for those who serve the Inquisition. I see the others who went with you to fight Corypheus, but not Dorian. I am... concerned." Concern, of course, was no adequate word to describe what he was feeling. By this point, the chill in his heart had turned into an almost physical pain, but he dared not question Adaar too fiercely, not now when the shouts of praise were already rising from the throats of those around him. Even if all he wanted to do was seize the woman by her shoulders and shake her until she answered.

Adaar frowned, but finally gave a little shrug. "He fell," she said in clipped tones, then pushed past Cullen and called for a messenger to run ahead to Skyhold and tell Josephine to prepare for a victory celebration.

"No." The word was a mere murmur, the only one to escape the stream of denial inside his head. No, no, no, Cullen had not just heard those words. His hands clenched into fists as his body shuddered, the ice in his chest spreading to his entire body. The chill stole his ability to speak before he could think to ask her anything further, and left him staring into the dark as a sharp agony tore through him.

He fell.

Two simple words, yet the implications could prove devastating. Death in battle was undoubtedly a constant danger for any of the Inquisitor's companions, and yet… Cullen clenched his teeth in a sudden burst of anger as an insidious thought rose in his mind. Had Dorian fallen in the heat of battle, blasted by the heat of a mad god's magic, or had Calpernia's fate in the Temple of Mythal been but a foreshadowing?

Cullen jerked as a heavy hand fell on his shoulder, his breath coming in almost panicked gasps as he looked up into the face of the Iron Bull. "Did you see-?" His voice failed, cracking before he could bring himself to utter the fateful words.

Bull shook his head, but the way he didn't quite meet Cullen's gaze dashed any lingering shred of hope. "You should go look for him," he said in a hushed rumble. "It might be worth a try."

"Really?" The word came out harsh enough to make Bull wince, but Cullen offered no apology. The world seemed too distant and hollow for that. "If you didn't see it, then who did?"

For a moment, Bull didn't answer, though his heavy sigh indicated the weight on his own shoulders. Finally, he said, "You'd never forgive yourself if you don't look for him."

A little shock ran through Cullen as he realized the truth of those words. No matter what it meant, no matter what he might discover, he had to find Dorian.

Without another word, Cullen pushed past Bull and made for the Temple. One way or another, he had to know.

The world proved to be a dark and lonely place in the shadows behind the Temple, especially in light of the havoc which the Temple's sudden departure for the skies had wreaked upon the ground. Huge drifts of snow alternated with overturned earth and ragged ruins, which meant that simply walking through the landscape made each step an act of faith and desperation. To make matters worse, the snow falling from the sky changed from occasional flurries to a thicker blanket of white, heralding a blizzard in signs he'd come to recognize over the months the Inquisition had occupied Haven. The world seemed to be conspiring against Cullen, from the sky to the earth to everything in between.

None of that mattered, however. At this point Andraste herself wouldn't have been able to deter him from his task. The same dogged determination which had saved his life and sanity in Kinloch Hold, and made him serve a poor master for far too long in Kirkwall, now kept him moving, ever forward, into the harsh winds and unforgiving landscape. When his foot found a hole and forced him to stumble to his knees, he ignored the abrupt agony which awoke in his ankle and pressed onwards.

Over time, the cold merged with the ache in his heart as he forced himself to climb one more snowdrift, to check under one more tree, fighting to hold onto that one last bit of hope that Dorian hadn't fallen into an endless dark where no one would find him. The pain of his twisted ankle became a distant memory as he lost all sensation in his legs below the knee save for an infernal itching that seemed to slowly consume his body from the ground up. When his shield's weight slowed him down too much, he dropped it in the snow behind him, and when his sword banged his leg one too many times, it was similarly abandoned to the wilderness. The thick fur of his mantle at least warded the cold from his face and hands as he buried them deep in its silken strands, but all of that faded into the background.

He would not give up. He could not give up.

Deeper and deeper into the darkness he wandered, all too aware of just how much ground he had to cover. After climbing one particularly steep hill, he fell to his knees and took a few heaving breaths as he fought to catch his breath. "Maker," he whispered softly, "he could be anywhere out here." For a moment the enormity of his task crushed his shoulders, and he bent over to scream his frustration to the snow. When that burst of energy passed, he looked up to the stars before closing his eyes for a moment. "Maker," he breathed, and this time, it seemed more a plea than a curse.

After a few moments in wordless prayer, he opened his eyes once more - just in time to see the moon emerge from behind the clouds. Its quiet light bathed the snow around him with a cool radiance, creating an eerie beauty in the silence that for a moment calmed his frazzled nerves. Taking that calm to heart, he forced himself to analyze the area, trying to view it as a battlefield and take in every detail.

What was that?

His eyes widened as he waited a few breaths, an ember of hope awakening within. When he saw it again - a sparkle of something in a landscape of bare snow and trees - he heaved himself to his feet and stumbled down the hill towards it.

The twinkling light beckoned him ever onwards, the hope in his heart giving him the surge of strength he needed to cover those last few dozen yards. When he saw a patch of black amidst the white and green, he broke into a shambling run that ended with him falling to his knees beside a snow-covered, misshapen lump that sprouted hair from one end.

In a frenzy, he brushed the snow away from Dorian as best as he could, cursing his clumsy fingers as they struggled to be careful even in his haste. The blood covering one side of Dorian's face indicated injuries, but with so much snow on top of him, it was hard to determine the extent of the damage. As his hands moved over the mage's chest, he saw the sparkle again, and couldn't help but smile as his fingers found a familiar coin housed in a silver pendant around Dorian's neck. For all the buckles and other metal accoutrements that made up Dorian's wardrobe, it had been the moonlight glinting off of that lucky coin which had attracted Cullen's attention.

Once Dorian was uncovered, Cullen held his vambrace under Dorian's nose, holding his breath as he waited for the telltale mist of life to appear. "Please," he said softly, "please, don't be dead. Don't be dead." The words poured from his lips until a small curl of breath bloomed on the metal. At the sight, his breath escaped in a rush of air as he wrapped the man in his arms and dared to dream of tomorrow once more.

He heard the hiss of an indrawn breath and immediately relaxed his grip. "Sorry," he said, pulling back so that he could cup his hand on Dorian's cheek. A tremulous smile came to his lips as a pair of grey eyes fluttered open. "You're alive," he whispered, albeit a bit needlessly.

"I'm in far too much pain to be otherwise." With a soft groan, Dorian's head fell back, but his hand feebly jerked into motion.

Sensing the mage's unspoken request, Cullen took the questing hand into his own, pressing it to his lips for a kiss. "You're alive. Thank the Maker. When the Inquisitor said you fell, I feared the worst."

A raspy sound came from Dorian's lips, and it took a few moments for him to realize that Dorian was laughing weakly. "I fell? Is that what she claimed? Thank the Maker that I live, but she certainly had no part in my survival." Dorian's voice, though weak, rang with a strong bitterness. "I was nothing but another Vint to her all along. No better than Corypheus. No better than Alexius. No better than Calpernia." For a moment, the laughter began again, but this time Cullen saw Dorian's face contract as something wet on his cheeks glittered in the moonlight. "I thought no one could betray me worse than my Father had. I was wrong."

The words drove a chill of ice into Cullen's heart, and reached up to brush the man's tears away. "Don't worry," he said softly. "I'm here. I'll protect you."

Dorian took another shuddering breath, then looked up to meet Cullen's gaze with his red-rimmed eyes. "Thank you, amatus. That means more to me than you know."

For a moment, Cullen simply savored the fact that Dorian was alive and that they were together. When he saw Dorian shiver, however, he cleared his throat and pulled the furry mantle off of his shoulders to wrap around the mage. "We've got to get you to shelter. Not Skyhold," he added, dismissing it out of hand. "There's still enough of the Temple left that we can hide out here for a couple of days. We still have friends in the Inquisition who can help us."

"Do we, amatus?" Dorian asked as his eyes sagged shut. "Who would dare risk the wrath of the Inquisitor?"

"Hey, hey. What am I, chopped nug?" a voice boomed from behind Cullen.

Cullen started, then turned around to see the Iron Bull emerge from the darkness, pulling a cart behind him and covered with a fine coat of snow. Relief flooded through Cullen as he stood and clumsily moved to help the Bull heave the cart the last few feet to where Dorian lay. "Not that I'm complaining, but how on Thedas did you find us?"

With a broad grin, Bull reached into the cart behind him and pulled out Cullen's sword, discarded in the search for Dorian. "You left a trail of shiny metal behind you in the snow, not to mention a lot of footprints. You're not exactly light on your feet, you know."

"Well, neither are you," Cullen said, a smile coming to his face. "Do you have blankets?"

"A whole bunch. And a few other things, too." A haunted look came to his face as he looked to where Dorian lay bundled in Cullen's fur. In a soft rumble, he asked, "How is he?"

"Hurt, but alive." Cullen said, the smile falling away.

"Then that's all that matters." Clearing his throat, Bull continued in a louder voice, "I brought what I could grab. Splints, potions, tinctures, linen... You name it, it's here." Bull gave one last grunt before letting go of the cart. "Right, let's move him."

"Wait," Cullen said softly as he put his hand on Bull's shoulder. "What about the Inquisitor? Does she know where you are?"

Another grin came to Bull's face. "You might say she's a bit tied up at the moment."

"Bull!" Cheeks burning, Cullen gave the laughing Bull a shove and stalked over to Dorian. Pushing the thought of that incredibly awkward afternoon when he'd found the Inquisitor alone with Bull aside, he focused wholly on the task at hand. It didn't take long to get the mage into the cart, and soon Bull was pulling them back to the dubious shelter of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. He cradled Dorian as best as he could as they moved, each grimace of pain on the mage's face a separate little stab of pain and anger.

By the time they rolled into the Temple, another surprise awaited them in the form of Vivienne and a few healers from the Inquisition. The imposing First Enchanter took one look at Dorian and then issued a series of orders that ended with Dorian bundled in blankets while she and her team tended to Dorian's injuries.

This left Cullen with very little to do, and he soon found himself prowling the perimeter of the impromptu camp which had sprung up. His focus remained on where they tended to Dorian, uncertain what he could do, and his expression remained grim. In his distraction, it was simple for the Bull to take him unawares, and his jump when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder made the Qunari laugh.

"Calm down, Cullen. It's just me." The rumble of Bull's voice seemed to fill the empty cold around them, and gave Cullen something to think about besides the worried frown on Vivienne's face.

"I know, Bull. It's just-" He looked towards the huddle. "I feel so helpless. I'm no man of healing."

Bull squinted at Cullen. "You may not have magic or potions, but I think you have something more important than either of those. And I think you know it, too."

For a moment, Cullen closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "It's not only that. What if-" His voice faltered, unable to speak the worst of his fears.

"Now I'm going to stop you right there," Bull said firmly. "I've seen you two together. There's nothing your presence could make worse, and plenty it could make better. Sometimes you sit back and let the professionals handle things, but sometimes you just gotta charge in and take care of it yourself." Settling his hand on Cullen's shoulder again, he craned his neck until Cullen was forced to meet his gaze. "And you'll never forgive yourself if you weren't there and the worst happened."

Cullen inhaled sharply. He knew Bull was right, but something about the man's choice of words… "Have you forgiven yourself? For what happened on the Storm Coast, I mean."

"I was there when the worst happened," Bull said softly. "And someday I'll force it to all make sense again. Now," he gestured to where Vivienne and healers surrounded Dorian, "get over there."

Wordlessly, Cullen nodded. As he set in motion, however, Bull's hand abruptly reached for his shoulder. That was enough to make Cullen pause long enough to give Bull a quizzical glance.

Bull held Cullen's gaze for a long moment before looking away to stare at the distant lights of Skyhold. "Just… just promise me that you and the Vint won't be around when I make sense of everything, all right?"

For a long moment, Cullen studied Bull's face, then nodded slowly. He didn't truly understand, but he knew that the Inquisitor's actions against Dorian had not aided an already strained relationship. "I promise, Bull," he said softly.

Bull's shoulders sagged. "Thanks." With a final squeeze, he let go of Cullen and held out his hand. "Farewell, Cullen. Give the Vint my love."

And again Cullen was struck by the Bull's deliberate phrasing, accustomed as he was to the man's usual way of ending a conversation. See you around, or maybe even Catch you later, but certainly never anything final.

Until now.

Cullen grasped as much of Bull's forearm as he could, giving him a full warrior's respect. "Goodbye, Bull. It was an honor to fight with you."

"Likewise. Now go on, get over there." Bull squared his shoulders as he reached up to touch the dragon's tooth which hung around his neck. "I have work to do." Without another word, he turned and began the long trudge back to the Inquisitor.

With a heavy sigh, Cullen left the man to his fate and moved towards his own. His step quickened when he saw that Dorian had finally roused, hair thoroughly mussed and with dark circles under his eyes. Hurrying to the mage's side, he sat beside Dorian and took his hand. He listened with a frown as Vivienne listed the extent of the injuries, wincing in particular when she noted the crushed ankle which had borne the brunt of Dorian's fall. "Still," she noted clinically, "he will walk again. Eventually. Be sure not to let him walk any time soon, however," she told Cullen serenely.

"Have I no say in the matter?" Dorian said indignantly. "It is my foot, after all."

"You have historically made a very poor patient, my dear. At least Cullen has shown a minimal sense of self-preservation in his past."

Cullen had to hide a smile as Dorian humph ed. "Don't think I'll forget this," he said testily.

"And I'm sure that your displeasure will haunt my sleep for minutes to come," she said with a perfectly straight face. "However, I must return to Skyhold. Do take care, darlings." The way she looked at Cullen in particular held a certain weight, as if to make sure that Cullen did not do so in Skyhold.

"I always follow good advice," Cullen told her with a nod. Though they hadn't always seen eye to eye, he and Vivienne had reached a place of healthy mutual respect - and her warning coupled with Bull's remarks had only reinforced his own decision to never again set foot in any stronghold of the Inquisition.

After Vivienne had taken her gracious leave, Cullen leaned in and wrapped his arms tightly around Dorian, no longer afraid of hurting him besides the hefty splint around his ankle. "I was afraid I'd lost you," he whispered in a hoarse voice.

Arms wrapped around Cullen in return, clinging tight. "As was.I."

Dorian's voice was so soft that Cullen pulled back so he could examine the man's face. The vulnerability he found there, evident in gleaming grey eyes and trembling lips, made Cullen's heart skip a beat. When Dorian's hand stole up to clutch at the pendant of House Pavus hanging from the cord around his neck, Cullen instinctively wrapped his hand around the lucky coin which had reunited them earlier.

Breath caught in his throat, he cupped Dorian's face and claimed the man's lips in a long, tender kiss. The cold and darkness around them melted away, and all that mattered was the taste of Dorian's lips, the tickle of his mustache, and the faint musky scent which yet lingered in his hair. When their lips finally parted to allow a gasping breath, their eyes remained locked with each other.

Later, neither would lay claim to speaking the words first. They rose unbidden in Cullen's throat, his lips moving at the same moment as Dorian spoke softly, their whispers reaching only the ears of the other man: "I love you."

As the words hung between them, the realization hit Cullen all at once: there lay no masks between them. There was no more Altus. No more Commander. No more mage and Templar, no more Vint and Ferelden. There were only two men who had confessed their love under the cold light of the full moon, with those three words making an oath they both knew the other man would never betray. Wordlessly Cullen pressed his forehead to Dorian's as his eyes closed, letting the relief and joy of the moment wash over him. After a breath or two, their lips met once more in a silent confirmation of what lay between them, and when they broke apart, their lips were curved in tender smiles.

Finally, reluctantly, Cullen broke the silence. "We need to decide where we'll go from here, you know."

"Does it matter?" Dorian murmured, voice a bit unsteady in pitch. "I'd even live among the dog-lords for you."

Cullen chuckled softly. "How generous of you to grace us with your presence," he teased the man.

"Hush," Dorian chided him. "Now is the time to be silent and let me adore you."

"Oh, is that what it is?" Cullen said, an irrepressible smile coming to his face. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You should endeavor to do so." For a moment more Dorian simply smiled at him, but eventually he sighed wearily. "I wish I could stare into your eyes for all of time, amatus, but my body is weak where the heart is willful."

Instantly contrite, Cullen pulled the blankets up around him and tucked him into the veritable nest of blankets in which he lay. "Rest, my love," he said softly. "There are matters to which I must attend."

Eyes already closed, Dorian nodded as he sagged into the blankets. "Wake me when it is time to leave," he murmured.

"I will." Cullen watched until the man was asleep, the smile lingering on his lips for a moment. After a moment he reached out to gently stroke his fingers down one cheek, silently thanking the Maker once more. As he rose to his feet, though, a grim determination swept over him. Skyhold simply wasn't an option for them, but neither was staying here.

He had work to do as well, it seemed. Yet this time, instead of working for an oath or a cause, he had something far more personal at stake.

The next few days flew by in a flurry of activity. During that first night, Cassandra arrived with horses and a cart carrying a message from Leliana that they were not safe. Dorian and Cullen were bundled onto the cart, resting as best as they could while Cassandra guided them through a series of checkpoints chosen by Leliana to evade the Inquisitor's gaze. Cullen was gratified to find a small cache of gifts in the back of the cart: a jingling pouch of coin from Josephine, a collection of Dorian's favorite books stolen from Skyhold's library by Varric, a satchel full of potions from Vivienne along with a note for their most effective use, and even a surprisingly sweet note from Cole encouraging them to 'be the light to banish the shadows' for each other. By the time they arrived at the Storm Coast, Dorian's ankle had healed enough that he could walk with aid, which Cullen was quite happy to provide.

They made their final farewells to Cassandra in the secret cove of the Storm Coast, on a ship that Cassandra declared was Leliana's affair and not hers, and it was by far the most poignant for Cullen. After all, she was the woman who had pulled him from the despair of Kirkwall and pushed him down the path of giving up lyrium. He owed her a great deal, even before she'd helped them escape the clutches of the Inquisition.

"What will you do now?" he asked after their final embrace on the docks. Dorian was at his side, still a bit pale and shaky on his feet, but alive and free of the Inquisition - as they both were.

"The Seekers still need to be rebuilt," Cassandra said with a nod. "Perhaps the Inquisitor didn't see fit to support my endeavors, but you have proven that her judgment is questionable."

Dorian snorted lightly. "And the sun is a trifle hot in the Western Reaches," he muttered.

Cassandra's lips twitched. "I suppose for a time we all hoped to believe in her more than her actions merited. With Corypheus defeated, however, she is no longer our concern." Taking the hand of each man with one of her own, Cassandra said in a quiet voice, "You are wise to return to the Imperium. I do not know what the Inquisitor intends, but it is not to go quietly into the night."

"I have allies in my homeland, despite the machinations of my father," Dorian said with a nod. "With the Venatori defeated alongside Corypheus, perhaps the voice of reason can once again be raised. That is my hope, at least."

"May the Maker guide you, Dorian, and hold both of you in his hand." Giving a final squeeze, she let go and stepped back. "Be safe. Thedas owes both of you a debt of gratitude."

"Take care, Seeker," Cullen told her with a warm smile. "I hope our paths cross again one day."

"We shall see. In the meantime, farewell." After a formal bow, she turned and left them on the dock.

The men watched her until she was out of sight, at which point Dorian gave a long sigh. "It's finally over, isn't it? Our part in the Inquisition, I mean. We're free. At last, we're free."

Taking the mage's hand in his own, Cullen turned to face him with a smile on his face. "Thank the Maker," he breathed, then stole a soft kiss.

A twinkle came to Dorian's eyes as one curl of his mustache rose in a grin. "What do you say we make use of that remarkably large bed in our cabin, amatus?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Cullen breathed, then pulled Dorian close for another kiss before leading the way to the gangplank.

From now on, the only thing he would allow between them was love.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: And here we are - finally. I want to thank each and every one of you who have read this story, especially those who took the time to leave a review. It really helped to know that people read and appreciated the story and wanted to know more. I hope you enjoyed the final chapter, and thank you to all who have read it!

One final author's note: I had originally planned two endings for the story, this one and one with a very different tone. In the end, I opted to complete this one. All told, I think it is for the better.