Chapter 11

Cullen

He listened to her breathing become slow and smooth, deepening into a peaceful sleep. It felt so natural, so much like she fit there curled up against his chest with his arm around her. But Cullen didn't want to fall asleep. If he did the dreams would come. Gnashing teeth of demons, taunting visions of painful possibility, slashing and dark and bottomless – these dreams did not belong here. Not with her.

But the dreams would come anyway. He knew because he'd skipped another dose of lyrium today. Since Adamant, he'd been starting the process of weaning himself from it. Already, even after just a few days without it, the craving was there, growing and feeding on his resolve.

The only difference now was that she was there too. And that made all the difference.

Cullen opened his eyes, gazing at the stars through the gaping holes in the roof. Ellana had laughed when she saw it for the first time.

"The Commander of the Inquisition and you can't pay someone to fix the roof?"

He'd given her a smug look in response. "It serves a purpose."

"Such as?" She reflected his half-smile.

"You'd be surprised how much easier it is to sleep under a blanket of stars."

She considered that for a moment, looking up at the ceiling. "That doesn't surprise me at all – I've spent my fair share of time gazing at the heavens." She locked her eyes on his. "What does surprise me is that I may have misjudged you."

He cocked his head and shifted his feet, trying desperately not to look as flustered as he felt. "How so?"

"I figured all of you Templar types were overbearing zealots who'd never taken the time to watch a sunset or smell a rose."

"I happen to love sunsets," he'd protested in mock-offense.

"And roses?" She said, taking a step toward him.

He was sure then that she was flirting with him. They'd had playful conversations and Cullen had been pretty sure she was interested, but now she was close. In his office with the door closed. And oh Maker why was she so attractive?

"Of course – well… I mean yes," he stammered. "Who doesn't love roses?"

She stifled a giggle before agreeing. "Who doesn't?"

That day seemed ages ago, but he still felt like the same bumbling halfwit when she flirted with him. He knew tonight, that he'd been able to show her what words alone could not. And for that he was thankful.

The rage demon's fiery fingers played across her body, burning through layers of clothing and leaving only bits of charred rags behind them. It laughed, a cruel hollow sound that tore at him. But he couldn't get to her. She was beyond his reach. He was raw from trying to twist away, trying to escape from the chains that immobilized him, even though he knew it was a futile effort.

Soon more demons came, as if attracted by the wicked laughter and smell of scorched flesh. There were too many and she was far too weak to fight. Cullen watched as each creature snatched a piece of her. Tearing her skin, ripping her to shreds as he fought violently to help her.

But she was gone and they were still hungry.

"No… leave me," he called to them. But still they came, fingers outstretched and eyes starving for his flesh. "Leave me!" he screamed.

He jumped back from the demons, jolting himself awake. His heart was hammering in his chest and his breaths came in gasps. He looked around the room, leaning back onto his pillow. Of course… just another dream.

Ellana was there, already dressed, sitting on the side of the bed lacing her boots. He thought of the demon ripping her away from him. How cruel that the dreams seemed to discover new ways to cause him suffering every night.

"Bad dream?" she asked.

"They always are. Without lyrium they're worse." He hated for her to see him like this. The burden of the Inquisition was enough on her shoulders without his problems piled on.

He pushed himself onto his elbow. "I didn't mean to worry you." He wanted to hold her again, to lay with her all day, kissing and whispering. But that possibility was a long way off with so much work to be done. He settled for a tender touch to her cheek.

"You can let me worry about you a little." She let her fingers trail sweetly along the side of his face.

He chuckled. "Alright."

She touched her forehead to his. He breathed her in again and now her scent was all tangled with memories of last night. The way she had touched him, kissed him - the way she had felt beneath him. She was strong but somehow yielding, unbreakable yet fragile, perfect and flawed and Cullen knew his heart belonged to her.

He closed his eyes, trying to put his thoughts into words. "You are… I have never felt anything like this."

She leaned down, eyes gleaming in the morning light that shone through the broken slats in the roof. "I love you. You now that right?"

"I love you, too."

And he did. All of the worry for her. All of the fear of disappointment. The desire to be near her, to learn more about her. The way she made his pain more endurable, just by being near. All of these thoughts he had trouble expressing and she did it in three words. I love you.

Their lips met briefly. A promise.

She smiled one last time before descending the ladder to his office. Cullen lay back on the bed with a contented sigh, allowing himself a few moments to think about their night together before rising to dress and begin the days' duties.

The morning passed quickly with so much business to attend to. He'd needed to make a sweep through the barracks, supervise the late morning training at the yard, and attend a meeting with Lelliana just before midday. He was about halfway up the stairs, ready to take lunch in his office as he went over reports, when Dorian called to him from the courtyard.

"Cullen, a word?"

He backtracked, meeting the mage at the foot of the stairwell. "Of course. Is everything alright?"

"I should be asking you." The dark-haired man looked him up and down.

Cullen closed his eyes briefly. He supposed this conversation was coming sooner or later. "My office?" he asked, gesturing with a nod to the tower behind him.

Dorian's expected quip was mostly lost in the howl of the wind as the two of them climbed the steps to Cullen's office. As they entered, Dorian sauntered to the desk and plopped into the chair behind it with a pompous backward roll of his shoulders. He puffed out his chest and pretended to look overly important while thumbing through reports.

Cullen shook his head and snickered. "You look like a child playing at his father's business."

Dorian snorted then leaned back into the chair, hands clasped behind his head. "Have you thought about our last exchange?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he answered. "Every day since we last talked."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"I'm not happy about it. I do not know this mage, Corvus, nor can I comment on his intentions." He stood facing Dorian, gripping the edges of the desk. "Yet… I cannot stand feeling this way – the haze, the aches, the dreams…" A shiver crept through him as he tried to block out the memory of last night's demons. "But with all of the side effects, I hate being controlled by it even more."

"When was your last dose?"

"Three days ago."

Dorian picked up a quill on the desk, fingering it between two fingers. "You may have to take it once more before we meet Javan. I'm not sure I feel like travelling all the way to Tevinter with a crazed maniac in the throes of withdrawal. Let alone showing up to House Corvus with one in tow."

Cullen straightened. "I didn't even tell you if I wanted your contact's help in this, yet."

Dorian narrowed his eyes. "You mean to tell me, you'd prefer risking death or a lifetime of dementia to taking a simple trip to meet an old friend of mine?"

He would much prefer death to a lifetime of dementia, but would he rather risk either than meet a Tevinter mage? Dorian seemed to trust Javan's intentions and Cullen had been given no reason to think differently.

He didn't answer right away, instead pacing the room before finally placing his palms against the wall, releasing the breath he'd been inadvertently holding. "I'd really prefer to find a way out of this - both alive and with my wits."

"Then I don't see what the debate is about." Dorian dipped the quill into the inkwell and began scrawling a note onto a blank parchment on the desk. When he spoke again, he was quieter. "You know she would want this for you. She asked me to do this for you."

Cullen lowered his head. He hated that Dorian could hang her over him, but that didn't change the fact that he was right. His pride should not come above her, not anymore.

Dorian sensed the serious turn in the conversation, trying to repair it with distracting conversation as usual. "You know people were already talking this morning about your rigorous activities in-"

"I don't want to hear about it," Cullen interrupted, shaking his head, trying to ignore the heat coming to his cheeks.

"Very well, just thought you'd want to know," he smirked as he turning his attention back to the letter. Then he finished under his breath, "I'll wager you are gaining quite the reputation as we speak, Commander."

Cullen tried to ignore the fact that everyone in Skyhold now knew about his bedroom activities. He leaned against the wall, trying to move his thoughts toward this new venture with Dorian. He tried to estimate how long it would take just the two of them to travel to Tevinter and back. He wanted to keep this whole thing as private as possible and a larger party would only slow them down.

"I'll send this letter ahead of us to give House Corvus polite notice of our arrival."

Cullen nodded. "Good. I need a few days to get some things done here anyway."

Dorian waggled his eyebrows. "I should think so."

Cullen exhaled loudly. "Maker help me."