Author's Notes: Sorry guys, I know this one is late again, and this one comes with some bad news as well as being a bit on the angsty side.

I've spent the week scrambling to get ready for a 2 week holiday in Malta and that meant finishing deadlines for work, so I barely had a moment to edit which is why this chapter is late. That also means I won't be updating again until another 2 weeks from now since I won't have access to my PC.

My humblest apologies. In a way it is good, because I am struggling to write the final chapter with, well, some form of finality I suppose, so with this holiday I can really have a go at hashing it all out.

And can I just say, the kind words and encouragement from the last chapter have just been incredible. Really, I cannot thank everyone enough! I was very wary since it was so... explicit, but I'm glad it was so well received!

Anyway, I'm off for a very well-deserved and very long-time-coming holiday to Malta, so I will speak with you all again in 2 weeks!

It was alone, perusing positions at the War Table that Cullen noticed something with a jolt.

He'd been comparing reports of the last fledgling Red Templar sightings across Ferelden and Orlais, taking one of the small metal pieces from the table to put it back in the box with the others, when he became fascinated with his own gloved hand gently holding the piece signifying an army contingent between the tips of his fingers and thumb-

And his hand was perfectly, absolutely still.

He didn't know exactly when it happened; there was no sudden, jarring halt to the withdrawal symptoms after all. They came in waves that were sometimes long and endless, other times short but powerful – and he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt... poorly.

A lucky reprieve, he thought, a reprieve lasting for quiet some time. But still... the time between them – even if they weren't gone completely – was getting longer and longer. Even if the sweating, confusion, headaches, shaking or muscle pain returned, the break after they abated would be longer still. Each time they reared, they would have to come down at some point. The terribly empty hunger in him had lessened to the point where thinking about Lyrium only gave him a twinge of cravings, not the sickening, stomach-turning swoop it usually did.

When he started working for the Inquisition his pain had been endless, or so it seemed, but the fact that he couldn't remember the last time he suffered, that was certainly something.

That wasn't to say there weren't some side-effects that lingered in him on a day-to-day basis. He still suffered incredible nightmares, and after he'd spent the day with Constance, he was not so lucky to escape them last night.

He woke up several times to her hand sleepily running through his hair, or shaking him awake only to soothe over the skin of his forearms or shoulder.

So he couldn't say the nightmares were particularly terrible either.

And, he supposed, he suffered from nightmares before withdrawing from Lyrium...

Was it the tea? That was a possibility, especially since he hadn't heard any concrete evidence to suggest that Ex-Templars were fully recovering from their addictions. He decided to ask Constance about it when he next got the chance, and they weren't... concerned with other topics.

Namely losing their clothes and getting lost in each other.

With a smirk, Cullen placed the piece into the leather-bound box at the end of the table and studied the map as he felt a strange, sinking feeling in his gut - not enough to take the smile from his face, but enough to be aware of it. During the war, he'd watched the pieces on that map fill the space so much until they could barely see what was underneath, only knowing the areas by sheer memory. Now, however, he noticed that every time he took a piece from the table and put it back in the leather-bound box, the less and less work he had to do.

It was a slow process, but it was happening, and even though there were no words to convey how overjoyed he was that Thedas was safe and the war was over, he feared his relevance was becoming less apparent.

He enjoyed the excitement and testing his tactical mastery even though in contrast he hated sending good men to their deaths, and he'd been so on edge during the whole ordeal and even for years before, that now that there was a time of peace he didn't know how to come down from the edge of the knife.

Peace was not exactly familiar territory.

There was a brief, timid knock on the door to the War Room before it was pushed open just enough to allow the person inside, and as Cullen looked up from the emptying map he saw Dorian partially hidden behind the door, bracing himself against it with his palm.

"The Inquisitor said I would find you here," the Mage said, "do you have a moment?"

"Of course," he replied, noting how he was having more and more moments to spare lately, "what can I do for you?"

Dorian stepped fully into the room but kept the door open with the toe of his boot, "I was wondering if perhaps you would accompany me for another game? I find I'm rather bored with the library at present,"

There was something to the Mage's face that gave him pause; though Dorian used the excuse of the library he got the feeling that there was more to his request than simple boredom, and it showed in the almost-vulnerable hopefulness of his face. He didn't just want to challenge Cullen to a game of chess, he looked like he wanted to say something, and the Commander allowed himself to worry that little bit when a bright smile flashed briefly in the Mage's face when he accepted his offer.

He locked the War Room up and made the short trip to the gardens with him; they set up the board and he watched as Dorian sat down with a sort of nervousness that the Commander certainly wasn't accustomed to seeing in the confident man. It was slight - to anyone else it wouldn't have registered at all but Cullen knew the Mage enough to see when something had changed.

And with the efficient, offhand way the Mage was playing chess - and winning, he noticed with disdain - it was clear there was something on the man's mind.

Dorian sighed as he, offhandedly again, out-manoeuvred him; "… I am going to miss this,"

Caught between irritated and marginally impressed, Cullen looked up, raising an inquisitive brow at the comment. The Mage looked forlorn, staring down at the pieces on the board but not really seeing them.

His dark-rimmed eyes looked up and he smiled crookedly, leaning back in the chair, "I will be leaving at the end of this week. The Bull and his Chargers will be heading towards Rivain; I've decided to tag along,"

He'd heard the spread of gossip that Iron Bull had somehow convinced Dorian into his chambers, and that they had developed some sort of relationship out of it. Personally, Cullen liked Iron Bull and knew him past the meat-head front he often put up, enough to know that Bull was a lot smarter and a lot more manipulative than he let on (in the best possible way, if there was indeed one). He also knew Dorian past the pomp and finery – knew that he'd left Tevinter with nothing but his clothes and a few favours to eke out a life abroad after a pampered upbringing in a powerful family of Mages; and such a decision must have taken incredible courage and will, something which he couldn't help but feel compassion towards, especially given his own circumstances and decisions.

And now Dorian was going to follow the Qunari and his Chargers. He didn't think it went so deep.

"You're sticking with Bull?" He asked, trying to salvage his front-line as best he could before Dorian made his next move.

Stroking his chin, the Mage barely even looked at the board before reaching forward and taking Cullen's rook with a pawn he hadn't been able to intercept, "For a time. Once we arrive in Rivain, I plan to travel across Antiva and back into Tevinter," the man leaned back again, and the lack of his arrogant self-approval was actually starting to put Cullen off, "after seeing what happened at the Temple of Mythal, I can't keep running away from the glaring problems present in my homeland."

The Commander wasn't exactly convinced, "You wish to change it then? What makes you think you can?"

Considering how rife Blood Magic and demon summoning was in Tevinter, Cullen didn't exactly have faith in Dorian changing much. A powerful Mage though he was, he was just one against the means of many, just as cunning and corrupted as they were in Orlais – in knowing that, what was he going to do once he got there? Did he have the sort of connections that his countrymen did?

"If I don't, who will?" He said, looking up with hard eyes, "The self-congratulatory arrogance of the Magisterium overthrowing the Elves is built upon lies, and somewhere underneath all of that pomp is the truth. I am not the only one in Tevinter who feels this corruption has to stop, that bathing our lives, our history and our houses in blood grasping for power is the only way forward, and I will not be the last. I need to go."

There was a way for Cullen to win, but as he reached forward he found his hand stilling instead of moving his queen, regarding what Dorian was saying critically.

It was a worthy cause. An incredible cause, impossible perhaps, but no matter what happened to Dorian in the future he would always be able to stand by his decisions and convictions when he spoke of it the way he did. And that meant he was leaving.

Dorian was leaving, and so was Bull. Leliana's inauguration loomed ever closer, Cassandra wished to rebuild the Seekers. Blackwall was a Warden recruit, Solas was missing. Now that Corypheus was defeated, he doubted Varric would stay for much longer, and the same could be said for Vivienne if Morrigan was giving up her position as Arcane Advisor to the Orlesian court.

As far as Cole and Sera were concerned, he supposed their respective duties as a spirit of Compassion and a member of Red Jenny would take them elsewhere.

Everyone was leaving.

Cullen pulled his hand back, resting his arms on the rests of the chair and sighing, looking at the board in the same way the Mage did; looking but not really seeing the pieces.

He couldn't say he blamed any of them; they had all formed under the Inquisition banners for more or less the same reason – the Breach in the sky, and now that it was no longer a threat it made sense that they would want to move on from the war, back to their former lives or on to something more worthy. But it begged the question – what did he want?

Since leaving the Templars, he wasn't used to having so many possibilities. Staying with the Inquisition was a good calling, to be sure, but was that really what he wanted?

No, a small, far away voice said in the back of his mind, even though he felt awful for thinking it. He owed much to the Inquisition... and then on the other hand, they also owed him.

The idea of so many of the Inquisition's inner circle leaving gave him an urgent feeling that he couldn't really place. He felt like he would have to make a decision soon, even though in reality there was nothing holding him back nor was there anything pushing him forward. Perhaps it was the fact that nothing was pushing him forward that made his heart start to race; he'd always been able to dedicate himself to a cause-

And the Inquisition's stance was so uncertain now that the Breach was closed for good...

And what of Constance? What was she going to do? The Wardens wouldn't be able to operate out of Skyhold forever...

"I wanted to be sure we had one more game before I left," Dorian said, smiling albeit a little sadly, "sounds foolish I suppose..."

"Not at all," Cullen assured, and decided instead to not take that knight with his queen, which would leave Dorian open, messing about with a pawn instead. He would let the Mage have the last laugh if it meant it was going to be their last game. Possibly forever.

He threw the game and Dorian knew it by the way his lips quirked at the edges, by the way he leaned forward and rested his chin in his palm and tilted his head, saying quietly; "You've changed,"

Cullen would have bristled had he not been agreeing ever so slightly with the Mage – would have argued that the recent events would easily change even the most hardened man and even blame it on the Breach, on the Inquisition, on the circumstance and it was all partly true, but there was also more.

He knew that, over the course of time spent in service, he'd undergone some rather drastic changes in personality, especially considering that just a few short years ago he would have been adamant that Mages should be locked away and yet now he was sharing his bed with one.

"I mean that," Dorian continued when Cullen looked down at his gloves, "it's hard not to notice how much... happier you seem. I suppose many of us could say the same – an ancient Magister threatening the world has been defeated and the giant hole in the sky pissing out demons has been closed – that would give anyone cause for happiness. But where you are concerned, I cannot help but think it is because of-" he pointedly looked over Cullen's shoulder to the other end of the gardens, "- something else,"

As he turned to follow Dorian's line of sight, he could see Constance on the other end of the garden approaching them, Dogmeat at her heels – only to be pulled aside by Mother Giselle when she caught his eye.

The flush started in his cheeks and spread until his ears and chest were hot and irritated. Perhaps that was the change Dorian was referring to. He thought that, since sharing his bed with her, that his intense desire for her would abate somewhat, especially considering they spent an entire day in each other's sexual company, but it seemed his hunger for her was not so easily quelled.

There was a mindset that existed among many men that suggested their masculinity was in question depending on their age and virginity, and Cullen was not so vain to think that something had changed in him just because he spent some breathless moments with a beautiful woman, but he supposed his demeanour towards Constance had changed somewhat regarding what they shared.

Possibly because he knew what she looked like naked, panting, coming in front of him, the sight so wresting and beautiful it nearly brought him to tears.

Possibly, and more likely, because he'd opened up to her in a way that he never had with anyone else, least of all a Mage, in a way that was so terribly vulnerable that it was almost a little frightening and more than a little exciting. He hadn't trusted anyone in so long, but he would stake his life on her and she'd never given him a reason not to.

"Fasta vass," Dorian swore under his breath, "if you mentally undress her for much longer I'm going to start feeling like I'm intruding on something,"

Cullen glowered.

They spent the previous day wrapped in each other, so he supposed he could picture, quite clearly, what she looked like under that heavy coat. They pushed aside the need for an orgasm in favour of a long, slow rolling of hips, deep breathing and soft kissing, and it helped him grow used to what the first time seemed like an onslaught of sensation and incredible pleasure that he was quickly overloaded with.

He still came sooner than she, but that granted him the mind to fully explore her in other ways. He committed her body almost to memory, as he studiously ignored the idea that life in Skyhold continued around them, or that his presence was needed.

Perhaps it was even that fact that Dorian was referring to, that he'd changed to the point that even his work for the Inquisition could be pushed aside briefly to focus his attentions elsewhere, when he was previously so dedicated it was a wonder he got any sleep.

The Mage made his move and Cullen realized that he'd taken the opening offered, and smiled. If it was their final game together then he wanted Dorian to be able to walk away with his head held high, even if he knew that the Commander granted him that boon, and he wondered then; was he happy because Cullen offered the victory, or because he thought he took the victory for himself?

It was an interesting question.

"Are you going to follow her?" Dorian asked, as he leaned back and waited for Cullen to make his next move.

Shrugging, he replied; "I'm not sure what you mean. What do you mean 'follow her'?"

"Are you going to join the Wardens or are you going to stay here?"

Baulking, he immediately opened his mouth to say that of course he was staying in Skyhold. He was the Commander of their forces, and had been since the Inquisition's conception, he'd personally trained a great number of their recruits and knew the military workings of the vastness of Orlais and Ferelden like the back of his hand – he wasn't about to just abandon them after everything that's happened-

… But... but a little voice in the back of his mind whispered; she will not stay with you.

And it chilled him to the core. He would have to make a decision soon.

"... I'm not sure. I hadn't given it much thought until recently..."

"It's something to consider, at least," Dorian smirked, "their armour is certainly very stylish. I think you'd look rather fetching in the Blue-"

"Maker's Breath," he exasperated when he found himself picturing how it would look and feel to don the Warden crest, "can we please speak of something else?"

He already discarded one Order, he would be a fool to pursue another...

… But their cause was a righteous one. And Constance was a good woman - a noble, steadfast soul.

"My Dear Warden Commander," Dorian drawled as Constance, having finally shaken off Mother Giselle, approached their table, "to what do we owe the pleasure?"

It took a great deal of effort to resist rolling his eyes at Dorian's over-the-top efforts of flirtation.

"Actually, I have something for you," she replied as though she hadn't heard his tone, "I recall our conversation some weeks ago about Brother Genitivi and his autobiography. So few copies still exist containing the excerpt you mentioned, so I sent him a request for one. I have the scroll here, if you would have it,"

His dark-rimmed eyes widened, "You... wrote to Genitivi to ask him for an excerpt of his autobiography for me?"

She pressed the scroll into his palms, "I remain on good terms with him – I find he is a plethora of knowledge where mine often falls short. The topic came up in our correspondence, so I asked if he would be willing to part with it. He grew particularly excited at the idea that it was for someone from Tevinter."

"Naturally,"

That time, Cullen actually did roll his eyes. Maker but Dorian did prance around like an exotic peacock when his homeland was mentioned.

As the Tevinter excitedly unfurled the scroll, their game momentarily forgotten, Constance let her gaze drift to him and he watched as her cheekbones turned a particularly fetching shade of pink, and he was blushing equally as much. He wondered if he would ever be used to the idea that she'd seen him naked, or that she'd seen him so undone, and he wondered if she was feeling something similar to the embarrassment that he was.

To have been so vulnerable and lustful, and then to see the same person with their clothes on the next day was a little jarring. Especially when he could feel the rising hunger for her to be naked under him again.

Maker would he ever not want her...? "How are you feeling?" He found himself asking her, wondering if she too wanted, if she was not too exhausted...

She smiled, looking away, "I am quite well," she put the emphasis on quite, "my research continues, although I am glad of this moment of reprieve. I feel as though I have been waiting on this reply from Weisshaupt for an age; it is nice to take my mind off it for a moment,"

If you need to think of other things, his mind instantly exuded in a lustful haze, I can provide a distraction. Shaking his head, Cullen pushed the all-too-tempting thought away. The evening would come, eventually.

"And you?" She asked, linking her arms behind her back.

"I can't complain," he said, smirking, "although I believe you may have commandeered Dorian's interest from what was supposed to be our last game,"

Dorian snorted, "Ignore him, my dear. He's just sore that he's losing,"

Cullen smartly kept his mouth shut, knowing there was no real way to prove that he threw the previous move, and because he didn't need to prove himself to Constance over a game of chess.

"Perhaps once we're finished, you would care for a game?" He suggested to her, leaning back as Dorian continued to focus his attentions on the scroll in his hands.

Her blue eyes roved over the pieces, taking in their positions in a brief moment of calculation, "Perhaps not, I would not want to beat you too readily,"

"Is that a threat?" He rose his brow at her.

"Hardly," she smirked, in a rare moment of cockiness, "it is more of a promise,"

"Oh get a room, you two," the Tevinter Mage sighed, rolling the scroll back up and tucking it into the breast of his robes, "I fear if I stay here any longer I'll become entangled in whatever strange version of foreplay you have going here,"

As Cullen blushed and stuttered, Constance muttered in aside to him; "You would only be so lucky," to which Dorian barked out a laugh so loud that it shook some of the Chantry Sisters from their conversations or prayers.

But despite the brief moment of familiarity, the swell of what felt like belonging in the bottom of his chest, he knew that it was all for nothing. Dorian would be gone by the end of the week, and so would Bull, and it was only a matter of time before others followed suit.

That feeling left him hollow, and as shameful as it was to admit, he felt a little scared as well. Scared that, at some point and even depending on Constance's dealings with the Wardens in Weisshaupt, she would leave too - with or without him.

Would he stay? Would he do as Dorian suggested, and join her cause? There were so many unknown factors, and Cullen hated making a move without knowing first where all the pieces on the board were. It was a trait that made him an excellent Commander, but when it came to more personal affairs he found he was often stuck between rocks and hard places more often than he would bother to count. The Templars. Lyrium. Even his first tentative letters to Constance.

When Cole appeared out of the air near them, Dorian jumped and swore so badly that one of the Chantry Sisters hissed at him to shush.

The be-hatted boy swiftly approached Constance and grabbed her hand, and Cullen narrowed his eyes at the urgency in his voice, "Your Friend has returned. If you make your way to the courtyard now, you can see her again,"

As seemed to be the usual with Cole, he watched with vague interest as Constance got a glassy, far-away look in her eyes, looking past the boy grasping her hand and into the air.

"... Has she been here long?" Constance eventually asked with a slurred voice, after a pause, but continued to stare past him.

"No, she is very tired, but she wants to see you more than she wants to rest,"

"Thank you,"

And with that. The woman eerily stepped away from the table and walked out of the gardens, back into the main hall. Cullen felt a shiver race down his back as his mind turned over the unnatural idea of what Cole was doing, but tried to remind himself that there was no malice in him, and whatever he said was for her benefit in some manner.

Until Cole started speaking, his hands coming up to hold his chin, his voice taking on a familiar, well-bred lilt; "Too long. It's been too long. Ten years is too long. A son, Maker she has a son, they have a son. I hope she doesn't hate me like he does, those yellow eyes blaming me even if they suggested it, all to save my worthless life, such a cost it couldn't have been worth all the pain – Maker what have I done-?!"

"Cole!" He snapped, cutting the boy off mid sentence, "Enough!"

The spirit jumped, dropping his decidedly spot-on impression of the Warden Commander, "You don't want me spouting her secrets," he said, "you know she keeps them to keep her safe,"

With a grimace, Cullen nodded as he considered what the boy had said, "I... suppose,"

Dorian's face fell, "Uh-oh, this doesn't sound very good. Perhaps you would like to postpone our game for another evening?"

"There would be no point," Cole interjected, "she will be speaking to Morrigan now, she will be for the next few hours," he turned to Cullen, pale eyes peering from underneath the brim of his hat, "she tries not to cry but sometimes the effort is too much. She will want to speak with you later, she hopes you won't notice the redness in her eyes, but then she hopes you will,"

And with that, the boy disappeared as if he'd never even been there in the first place, and Cullen had to fight through the daze and the fog to even remember what he just said. What... was he on about?

Morrigan had returned; was that why Cole sought her out? And all that nonsense he spouted, frightened-sounding thoughts he must have plucked from Constance's mind, what was that about?

"We can leave it here if you wish," Dorian said, scratching his chin, "I can understand if you want to join her. That was all rather morbid,"

As the fog lifted from his thoughts, letting the memory of what Cole said unfurl properly without struggling to catch it like sand slipping through his fingers, Cullen shook his head, the breeze picking up and ruffling furs, snaking in coldly underneath armour and leather, "No, it's fine. I won't disturb them and she will tell me when she is ready,"

At least... according to Cole she would.

Author's Notes: Thanks for reading!