Chapter 29: The Decoy

No matter how many times it happened, no matter the circumstances or how much he had loathed them in the past, Cullen always felt a pang or guilt when he was forced to kill a mage. Not because he thought he was doing something wrong, or that he believed it hadn't been necessary. He knew perfectly well that, when cornered, a mage was as dangerous as any warrior, perhaps even more so considering they could call upon demons for aid just by utilizing the same blood drawn amidst a fight. Even still, when presented with the choice, when it came down to a matter of "kill or be killed" and he emerged the victor, burying his sword in their flesh, it was always accompanied by a keen sense of guilt.

Chillingly, it was the simplicity of the act that awoke that feeling in him. The lack of resistance their bodies presented, even in cases where they yet had some ward protecting them… It was so far removed from trying to push his way through chainmail, or searching for the infinitesimal points of weakness in full heavy plate armor so he could strike out and breach the vulnerable body underneath. No, it was the coldblooded act of slicing a man apart without any resistance that truly disturbed him. To get through it, he habitually told himself there was no other way, that he knew he was fighting something inarguably evil, or even that he knew that, if he did not act first, the other would kill him as certainly as the sun hiding beyond the horizon at the end of the day. And even when he'd done it to protect something he cherished more than his own life, still he felt tainted by it.

And now in the most unlikely of places, at the bottom of the Frostbacks, far enough from the Inquisition's last settlement, he was feeling it all over again; this sensation he had left behind after experiencing it more than he felt comfortable admitting back at the Battle of Adamant. It didn't make the fight impossible - it wasn't even a distraction now, after years of growing familiar with the odd sensation while serving as a Templar - but it was unquestionably disconcerting, especially since his change of heart towards mages in the last years, and it made him feel like each and every plunge of his sword, cutting through mages like warm butter, was a dent in his soul, a stain in what little purity was left of him for the Maker to recognize.

The Venatori had clearly been waiting for them. They had chosen their position carefully, waiting patiently as the whole group went deep into the rift in the mountainside that lead directly to the main road toward the Dales. They had anticipated they would choose that path, instead of circumventing it and losing daylight when they were only a couple of hours away from home. The enemy had carefully positioned their men to attack each of their forces before a counterattack could be organized. And they even had tried to set fire the carriage, where the Inquisitor was supposed to travel, but was thankfully not due to her stubbornness to ride amidst the forces rather than being meekly transported like the lady she was.

-I'm the Inquisitor first, the Herald of Andraste last, and a rogue somewhere in the middle. I'm a lot of things before being a lady. That title had lost its position with me since more important responsibilities arose. I'll travel according to those and then, if there's time left, I'll see to the lady part.

Back then, that declaration had been a reason to smile… but now it had him worried. He knew that a normal carriage would not be secure in this situation, too prone to be set ablaze, with walls too thin that could be taken down by just a few men, or even with windows not narrow enough to prevent a well-placed arrow from meeting its intended target. But this was an Inquisition carriage.

For the last month, Harrit, Dagna, and the best craftsmen of the region (all of them completely loyal to the Inquisitor and their cause) had worked for unending hours on Dennet's advice to build the perfect carriage that would grant her security and would not exhaust the horses a mile into the journey. But of course, she had refused to travel while locked in a carriage. She had said as much, warning them before they spent too many days working on what she thought was a masterpiece, but one she would not be using. Still, it was fairly useful in transporting the weaker members of the Inquisition, such a Josephine and her entourage. Cullen, on the other hand, would have loved to see her there with them right now, instead of worrying about her getting hurt in the chaos that had fallen upon them.

When the fight started, he had urged his horse forward, gaining ground until he was close enough to the Inquisitor to prevent her from taking any damage. Now, the fight had separated them again, and after yanking his blade from the chest of a Venatori, he looked around frantically, searching for her.

A quick inspection revealed that the last of the enemies were falling at that very same time. Fortunately, and probably thanks to the fact that the Venatori were more focused on reaching the Inquisitor and not stopping to kill her soldiers in what almost looked like a suicide mission, the Inquisition did not have to regret any casualties. Injuries were another thing entirely. Almost a dozen of the fifty people in the caravan had suffered some kind of injury and were being treated by the mages and physicians with them.

He heard a thump on the other side of the caravan and, before he could wonder if Evey had provoked it, he heard her speak.

-How many more are with you? How many assaults have you prepared?

She had trapped a spellbinder alive, but barely. The man was bleeding profusely from a wound in his stomach but was still glaring at her with such hatred that no one would have thought life was indeed pouring out of him with each gush of blood.

She pushed him again against the walls of the carriage, the runes Dagna had carved into it glowing in response to the proximity of the spellbinder's magic. At the same time, Evey drew one of her daggers and edged the tip against the mage's throat.

The man smiled perversely.

-Tens, hundreds, thousands! You'll never be safe. The Elder One shall rule!- And just like that, he pushed himself forward, burying her dagger in his neck with a sadistic smile.

Evey let go of the man, more due to surprise than anything else.

Cullen stared at her in concern, trying to imagine what she was thinking, but her eyes revealed nothing. She simply pushed the corpse of the Venatori aside and walked toward the wounded to see how they fared.

With this, Cullen fell into his role again. She was safe, at least physically, and now was not the time to try to learn more about what she was feeling. They needed to figure out how to proceed if they were going to keep traveling to Halamshiral.

He called one of his Generals (Rylen had stayed in charge of the troupes in Skyhold) and began assessing their situation, while still thinking continuously about the attack.

He had been careful. Cullen had planned ahead and sent troupes to make sure the terrain was safe to travel, to clean the road of any enemies that might have been lurking, and went over every single contingency that could go wrong whilst preemptively trying to thwart it. It should have been easy. They were, after all, traveling through friendly territory. And even though he would never dream of letting his guard down in terms of security, especially when it involved her, this had been something completely unexpected. There hadn't been Venatori sightings in over a month; those small groups that had ventured too close to Skyhold had been eliminated immediately, so even sending the scouts days before they began their journey had seemed like an unnecessary precaution.

The words of the suicidal Venatori echoed in his mind, and with this experience to curb his certainty regarding his security measures, he felt trapped. He could not ask for a retreat. They needed to get to Halamshiral, but if what that man had said was true, this attack would be one of many.

Cullen knelt next to the spellbinder, trying to find anything that could give him a clue about the veracity of the Venatori's dying words. The search didn't last long; the man had only the bare minimum with him. The most notable item was a thick leather book that stunk of blood magic, but it was filled with symbols and runes, and written completely in Teneve. He thought about giving it to Dorian to translate, but this was hardly the first Venatori spellbinder they had found according to the Inquisitor's reports. He doubted they would find anything useful within its pages.

-They were targeting her specifically. All the wounded are soldiers that stood in their path toward the Inquisitor,- Leliana's voice announced from above where she had stood next to him.

Cullen nodded.

-I know. They fought blindly to get to her. Nothing else mattered, not even their lives. I guess they assumed she would be vulnerable while trying to defend the caravan.- He stood to talk to her face to face.

-And they were right. Solas is healing the stab wound she received in her arm while trying to protect her seamstress.- Before Cullen could ask what in the Void that woman was doing in the middle of the fight, clarified, -She panicked when a marksman shot a flaming arrow at the carriage and raced out of it to find refuge. In her haste, she didn't notice she put herself in the path of a Venatori stalker. The Inquisitor did, and ran to her aid.

-This wouldn't had happened if she were traveling inside the blighted carriage.

-Maybe, but you won't soon convince her of that. We tried already and she will not set foot in that carriage, much to Josephine's despair. But I might have an alternative. If we play our cards right, she might agree.

oOo

She disagreed. Oh, how she disagreed! Their discussion had stretched over half an hour before she decided that she had had enough and gave the order to resume their march, which left all responsibility for reasoning with her on Cullen's shoulders.

It took him almost three more hours to make her realize of the true intentions behind their plan. The Venatori had obviously targeted her specifically, and since she could not leave the Inquisition entourage without risking a political scandal, according to Josephine (a lot of people were waiting to catch a glimpse of the Inquisitor in her diplomatic role, and not the warrior that some had already witnessed). They had decided it would be best to part ways with the rest of the caravan once they reached the crossroads separating the Frostback Mountains and the Dales, leaving a decoy to take her place. It would not be a perfect doppelganger. In fact, that was part of the plan as well. One of the women in her retinue would take her place, posing as the Inquisitor from afar. Nothing that could withstand a closer inspection, with barely a resemblance, that could fool those whom had not seen her in her travels before, leaving the Orlesians happy and the Venatori with the realization that the Inquisitor had split from the group, rendering their assassination attempts useless and leaving the caravan be to focus on searching for the real Inquisitor.

Evey did not like it, of course. She claimed the Venatori could still attack the caravan to strike a blow to morale, adding more deaths on her account. But the evidence was against her. The only attack the caravan had suffered (the flaming arrow from a marksman) had been before they had discovered she was riding her horse at the back of the convoy. After that, their whole focus had switched into that part of the company, leaving the women and men in the vehicle frightened, but inarguably safe.

That didn't mean she had made things easier for Cullen. By the end of the day, he was actually quite proud of himself and the impressive deploy of stratagems he had successfully employed to convince her. Or maybe he had just been lucky. Or perhaps she had disagreed with everything but her heart, knowing her advisors' suggestion was the best option, but not one of which she was overly fond, and therefore not one that she could wholeheartedly accept without at least showing some degree of protest. Maker, for all he knew she may have complied just because some of her friends asked her too, or because she found this half of the trip more agreeable than the one in the company of Josephine, and Vivienne, whom thought they could seize the time to practice politics a bit more.

In the end, the reason was inconsequential. The important thing was that she had relented, and here they were, four instead of fifty, in the middle of nowhere rather than on the main road, calmly setting two tents aside from the, at least, fifteen that the complete entourage would need, finally at peace.

They had found a secluded alcove perfect for the night. Its entrance was completely covered by dense, almost frozen vines, and was large enough to allow them to enter one horse at a time. Inside it was not very deep; in fact, it was barely twelve feet deep, but they hardly needed more. This way they could find refuge from the weather and unwanted eyes, and, with any luck, rest after a tiring day.

Their proximity to the Frostback Mountains at the border of Emprise du Lion forced them to set the tents even though they had the alcove to protect them from the worst of the elements. The spring was still too young to warm the weather and make the night bearable to sleep outside, and yet it was enough for its temperature, and the warmth coming from the animals and them, along with the small fire they lit to cook their meal, melted both the lingering snow nearest them, moistening the terrain, and the fine ice layer covering the stone walls as well, casting a freezing drizzle over them.

Cullen was almost done setting up one of the tents, Bull getting the other one ready, when he felt a small hand rest on his shoulder, followed by words softly spoken close to his ear.

-Cullen, dinner is ready.

He turned to find a different woman than the one that had entered the alcove half an hour ago. Evey had let her hair lose, and had taken off the metal sigil of the Inquisition that protected her chest over her leather armor, opening a few buttons of the same vest that she had worn on the morning he had interrupted her while she vented her frustrations in the riding circuit near Skyhold. Her cheeks were stained red from the closeness to the fire while she cooked for all of them, and her hair was damp, probably from the weeping walls, giving her a disheveled and flustered look that spurred Cullen's fantasies far too much for his comfort.

-Right, I'll be there in a second,- he answered, avoiding her gaze lest she notice how she affected him, focusing on securing the last guy line instead.

They had set the fire next to the rear wall of the alcove, between a crevice a little bit deeper than the rest, where the fire could be relatively hidden, making its glare less noticeable from the outside. Just to be sure, Cullen had suggested that they also set the tents a few feet ahead, so they could hide it even more. Still, he had already been planning possible guard rotations for the night, and considered the more vulnerable points of their hideout ever since they had decided to spend the night here. He was determined to not make the same mistake twice, even if the attack that afternoon had been everything but a consequence of negligence on his part.

He was about to sit next to Bull when Dorian quickly outmaneuvered him, leaving him no choice but to sit on the other rock they had settled, right next to Evey. Said rock was not big enough to sit comfortably without stepping into the each other's personal space, not even by a long shot, but neither was the other. Dorian was almost dangling from the corner of the rock he and Bull shared, since the qunari occupied most of it. But refusing to sit next to the Inquisitor when he had clearly just demonstrated that he had no objections to sitting next to a creature three times her size would have come off as rude, instead of what it truly was. Evey made him feel more confused, nervous, and vulnerable than he had ever felt, and for Cullen that was unexplored territory. He had been trained to master his fears and his feelings in favor of his duty. She had the power to overthrow all the Templar teachings, and that was something Cullen was not accustomed to dealing with.

With those thoughts well and truly in mind, he stayed put, absently eating, all his body tense, elbows pressing firmly into his sides, all due to her proximity. Her own elbows were grazing his armor from time to time, and even through the steel he could feel her, almost as if the armor were also part of him. He wanted to finish his meal as soon as possible and retire to the tent, away from what she was inadvertently doing to him.

-So Boss, what's the plan?- Bull's voice forced him out of his musings.

-You ask this now? You volunteered to join us and you had no idea what the plan was?- Evey answered.

-To be honest,- Bull replied with a full mouth,- I was getting sick of all the whispers and giggles coming from the carriage every time I got in their line of sight, and that happened a lot. I was tasked to protect them. I'm not against calling the attention of nobles, but when I can't prove to them just how "huge" I am,- he mimicked the voice of the noblewomen when saying "huge", -it gets tiresome quickly.

Evey shook her head and laughed silently, making her body shake, which caused Cullen to breathe deeply when she got closer to him.

-Well, you should probably ask Cullen here. I am, after all, still with the caravan in case you forgot.- She winked at the qunari.

-Right, right. You look great despite not being here, Boss.

His voice combined with the look he passed over her entire body was so suggestive that Cullen's grip on the bowl tightened. Evey, of course, was not deterred by the insinuating qunari and was holding his gaze with a smirk of her own. Still, Cullen could not bear this for too long and since he was addressed in the conversation, he decided to chime in.

-We will continue our advance through the forest until the crossroads twenty miles out from Halamshiral, where we will rejoin the rest of the group and restore the Inquisitor to her post at the head.- He left the half filled bowl on the floor next to the rock where they were sitting and continued, -We travel faster than them, so we will have to adjust our march to reach our destination at the same time. It will take them five more days to get there, which means we will have plenty of time to spare.- He thought for a second. -All of us will be able to get a good night's rest, despite taking it in turns with guard duties.

Dorian intervened then.

-What guard watch? I didn't just spend half an hour setting up glyphs all over the perimeter for nothing! Anyone who gets curious and tries to sneak inside will become disoriented and desist after losing track of his actions. So you can sleep calmly; nothing is going to bother us, tonight.

Cullen had a hard time even considering not to take guards, the concept completely ridiculous to him, especially since overconfidence played them a bad turn that very afternoon. His companions nevertheless seemed to take it as something completely normal, a notion not even worthy of discussion. He, on the other hand, was very willing to discuss it.

-Do you usually do this?- He asked Evey in a tone that was harsher than he intended. The idea of her relying on only glyphs to keep her safe disturbed him far more than he was ready to admit.

-No. This spell requires too much energy from the person casting it. We usually take guards.

Dorian took the reins of the conversation here.

-But since we have time to spare today, we can indulge in it. I'll have plenty of time to overcome the consequences of casting.

Cullen looked back at Evey and was surprised to find her smiling openly.

-It will be good to travel without many worries weighing on our shoulders. We might even enjoy it for a change.- She winked at her companions right before the mage decided to burst her bubble, and with it, her smile.

-Don't get your hopes up, my dear,- he said, looking straight to Evey. -Josephine gave me enough material to keep you busy.- He found his backpack and opened it in her direction, showing a stack of parchments and portraits. There was even a thick book that gave Evey the chills immediately. It was a compendium of the royal family tree line and the history of each ruler of Orlais throughout the years. In the four weeks of her training, she had come to hate that thing with all her being.

She didn't dignify Dorian's commentary with an answer, though. She just growled and left her own half filled bowl on the floor as well. The book had made her lose her appetite.

-And don't growl. It is not ladylike, Inquisitor,- Dorian grinned, imitating Josephine's Antivan inflections.

-Don't make me kill you, Dorian,- she replied with a hint of amusement, but enough seriousness to make one doubt her real intentions.

-Please don't, Boss, or I'll end up sleeping without something to hug,- Bull winked with his one good eye.

Evey smiled devilishly.

-Oh, so you are bunking together?- Evey pried, looking to Dorian and completely amused that, for once, he was the one being made fun of instead of the other way around.

-What can I say? I need my beauty sleep, and I can hardly get that if I'm relentlessly kicked in the middle of the night.

-It was one time, Dorian!- Evey frowned, all amusement gone.- And Cassandra didn't complain.

-But I would. Besides, how many more times do you need, my dear?

-Fine! But don't come crying to me when Bull starts snoring.

-I can shut him up with a simple spell.- He completely ignored the "hey!" of Bull, complaining about the very idea of someone casting a spell on him without his knowledge. The qunari barely tolerated it when he was aware of it. -Stopping you from fidgeting while you sleep is a little more complicated. Besides,- he said, lowering his lids, and Evey just knew she was going to regret whatever he said, -you might enjoy the Commander restraining you.

-Good night, Dorian!

The implications of their exchange dawned on Cullen as fast as his fogged mind could work, which was somewhere around Dorian's last intervention. He was about to silence them when the mage said the part about Cullen restraining Evey while sleeping.

Normally his mind would have cast an unpleasant scenario, one where Evey were thrashing and he would be forced to restrain her and wake her up from a grimly nightmare. But the way Dorian had said that, so insinuating, and how she had dismissed him, completely scandalized, yet with a growing blush creeping from her neck and upward, brought all varieties of unbidden ideas to Cullen's mind.

She likes that?

The image of Evey, disheveled, panting below him, smiling and arching her back to reach his lips while he held her arms tightly on either side of her head, made him woozy. For a moment, he wanted to punch Dorian until the image was erased from his mind with the mage's words.

And I'm supposed to share a tent with her? Maker's Breath, are they trying to kill me?

-I'm sorry about… that.- Evey's voice was merely a whisper. In fact, it was so soft that in normal circumstances he would have leaned on her to better listen, but right now that was the last thing he would do. The situation was uncomfortable enough. He glanced at her and registered her uneasiness. She was kicking the dirt below her boot, trying desperately not to make eye contact. Apparently, the others had retire while he was too busy imagining her.

-It's alright. I wouldn't mind actually.

When she raised her head to look at him with what he interpreted as total scandal, he realized what his words must have implied.

-Oh Maker, I didn't mean... as Dorian said...- He sighed heavily, -I meant I wouldn't mind if you kicked me.

She once again lowered her eyes to the ground and he totally missed the faint smile on her lips. Cullen knew what he had to do, but even though he knew this way would be easier for both of them, it still saddened him.

-It would be more appropriate if I slept here.

-What? Absolutely not! You'll freeze and get soaked in an hour. Please don't pay attention to Dorian,- she voiced the last sentence loud enough for the mage to hear. From the depths of the tent, they could hear Dorian mumbling something, but the words were not clear enough to understand, as if the mage had no intention for them to hear him. -I'll make sure to sleep facing the tarp, that way you won't get hurt even if I kick.

-It's not that. You are a lady. I should sleep with the men.

-Unless you are willing to sleep over one of the men, I can hardly see that happening.- Inwardly she smiled, thinking of what Bull and Dorian would say about the Commander sleeping over them. Cullen would probably end up blushing like mad and completely humiliated with only one of their responses to that proposal. -Besides, I was born a lady, but now I'm the Inquisitor, and demanding a tent only for me would be troublesome during our travels, not to mention completely annoying. We have enough of that to contend with in Vivienne, thank you very much.

While he was still smiling from that last comment, she stood up and extinguished the fire. Then she took her backpack, brushed his shoulder as she passed by, and silently went to their tent, disappearing behind the canvas.

oOo

Maker! He needed to calm down!

He never felt so torn in his life. Part of him was ecstatic that he was going to share a tent with her, close enough to feel her warm body lying next to him, only mere layers of clothes and covers separating them, falling asleep together in a picture so close to his own fantasies that it was threatening to drive him crazy. And the other part, the one that focused on the differences between his deepest dreams and reality, felt this as a cruel punishment for his past sins. To have her so close and yet so far away, to lay next to her with a wall of decorum, friendship and clothes separating them from his true desires was almost torturous.

He had dreamed of this. Andraste's Eyes, how many times this had plagued his nights, replaying over and over in his mind, no matter how much he tried to repress it. And the worst part was that all those fantasies had not begun so differently as how she had parted from his side a few minutes ago. Granted, in his delusions the brush of her fingertips had fallen over his shoulder, only a thin cotton shirt separating her touch from his skin, not over his pauldrons, and instead of ending there, the caress had been followed by her leaning over him to softly kiss him on the lips, momentarily looking over his shoulder to the piles of reports scattered on his desk in the tower before whispering "come to bed, love" and walking not too dissimilar as she had just done, but in the direction of the ladder leading to his (their) bed, smiling suggestively to him before grasping the first rung and pulling herself up, her hips swaying as she climbed, making it harder to ignore the tantalizing beauty that would shortly be resting in his bed, probably naked and waiting for him.

A crack in the dying embers woke him up from his fantasy.

Maker this is going to be the most trying night I've ever lived!

He momentarily considered the possibility of just sleeping here, but discard it almost immediately. She was a stubborn woman; Evey would come looking for him if he didn't come to the tent in the next few minutes.

-Andraste preserve me,- he whispered quietly enough that no one could have heard him. Shakily, he got up, retrieved his rucksack, and mentally prepared himself to join her inside.

As he reached the flap and opened the entrance, he made sure to make as much noise as he could to make his advance noticeable. Cullen didn't want to surprise her in a compromising position. Does she change her clothes when she sleeps rough? He didn't know for sure, but it was logical to assume that she at least removed her armor, especially since she seemed to entrust so much in those glyphs Dorian had settled. He was not so sure, and being all but forced to share a tent with her, he had already determined to wear part of his armor for the night. It wouldn't be the first time in his life to do so, and certainly not the last.

Before entering, he whispered her name by the canvas of the entrance and waited for her permission to step inside, ignoring completely the veiled, tittering giggles that came from the tent next to theirs.

He had tried to prepare himself for it. After all, he had seen her in worse situations far more compromising for her. He had even guarded her while she lay unconscious and naked behind the covers in the Frostback Mountains after he rescued her from the cold night after Haven. Not that Cullen had seen anything. He had never dreamt back then that he would ever see her naked, and he hadn't, even when he had been close when she was injured in The Western Approach and Solas had asked for his help to bandage her leg. But both those times, though fodder for his treacherous mind when he was assaulted by the memory of her body in the loneliness of his nights, he had been too preoccupied for her safety to fully appreciate what he was witnessing.

Now, in this tent and as alone as they were under the attentive ears of Dorian and Bull, of whom were completely awake if their laughs a minute earlier were any indication, he could not ignore what was right in front of his eyes.

Probably luckily for him, the moonlight did not get through the vines in the alcove entrance and the canvas enough to light the scene completely, but the faint glow they were steeped in showcased the image of Evey Trevelyan, only clothed in a shirt and a worn out pair of cotton pants, kneeling next to a tanned leather bedroll and preparing the other next to the one she was in, far too close to each other for Cullen's liking, but far enough that both bedrolls were next to one of the tent walls. He had noticed before that this tent was smaller than the other one, but he had just assumed that was because it would only be containing a single occupant while he and the other men would share the other one. He never dreamed of having to sleep with her in this tiny thing... Maker give me strength.

She turned her head to the entrance when he opened it, smiling at him.

-I took the liberty of preparing your bedroll. If you need any extra covers, we can share this one.- She unfolded the blanket that she had bunched in the middle of both bedrolls to show him it was big enough to cover them without any problem. It was a crude green fabric, and Cullen recognized it as the roll she'd carried behind her in the back of her saddle that morning.

The idea of sharing the cover as well as the tent made him even more awkward, and he merely shook his head, barely managing to utter a word.

-I'm sure I I'll be fine,- he swallowed hard. -Thank you.

She nodded and, without another word, entered her bedroll and covered herself with a pelt and her half of the green cloth she had offered him.

He then tried to fall into his routine, only foregoing the part where he completely removed his armor to climb into bed. It seemed to go well, and after a couple of minutes, he even thought she had fallen asleep, despite the noise he made removing the extra layers of metal he'd laid over the light chainmail he'd added to his usual armor for this trip. It was not as thick as average mail, and it would not stop a blade as well as the others did, but it was enough to keep him from having to face a surprise attack at night with nothing but his shirt and pants, at least protecting him from major slashing should the situation arise.

He finished undressing as much as he dared and laid next to her in his separate bedroll, trying his best not to make a sound, which was hard enough with the mail sounding like tiny bells every time he moved, but then she turned in her bedroll to face him.

-What are you doing?- She was looking at him as if he had intruded in her private chambers and snuck into bed with her.

-What do you mean? I'm preparing to sleep.

She sat up on her bedroll, the covers falling from her body to her lap, and extended her hand to take the sleeve of his chainmail, showing it to him.

-Do you often sleep in your mail?

He closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

-It's a precaution. If we are attacked...

She didn't let him finish. Whispering as high as she dared to not wake the others up, she answered as if he was a child talking nonsense.

-Take that thing off, Cullen. Dorian is an amazing mage and Solas' glyphs are infallible. He trained Dorian to master this spell for weeks just so he could use it if we're sleeping in some ruins and we have time to spare to wait for recovery. Believe me, nothing is going to get through it. Now take it off.

He knew this was more than how she tried to make it sound. She was testing his confidence in her companions and in herself, and that was something he did not want to put in doubt. So he sighed once more, thoroughly defeated, and sat up in his bedroll.

Unfortunately for his frail nerves the damned mail took his shirt along with it when he pulled it over his head, leaving him with his chest bare in front of her. It wasn't the first time, he reminded himself in the span of a second. She had seen him without a shirt that night she had helped him cope with his withdrawal symptoms, but that did not make it easier.

He looked at her with wide eyes, desperately trying to pull his shirt out of the chainmail, and was surprised to find her staring straight at him, even traveling her eyes from his face to his stomach and back up again before looking away nervously. She stammered something in a very low voice and then cleared her throat lightly.

-Good night, Cullen,- she said afterwards and turned once again.

It didn't last long, though. An hour later Cullen was still awake, lying in his bedroll on his side, watching the tent's still roof, desperately trying to calm his mind enough to sleep when she actually rolled over and ended up even closer than before. She rubbed her cheek in the bundle of clothes acting as her pillow, as if trying to find the perfect spot to rest her head on, and when she found it she sighed and hummed lightly, her breath reaching Cullen's face. He tried to ignore her, but the feeling of her breath upon his cheek made it impossible.

He rolled on his side as well and faced her, enjoying the unique opportunity he now possessed to watch her without worrying she'd notice. A part of him felt almost like a fiend, watching her while she slept like some kind of stalker, but another part reminded him that he had little option but to do that. If he turned to face the canvas he would have to either stuck his face against the side of the tent or move his body even closer to her to get some room between the tent and himself, and considering the limited space they had, that would leave his back practically touching her.

So there he was, completely trapped both physically and emotionally. He couldn't deny he had dreamed of lying next to her, and of being able to contemplate how she slept, peacefully and safely, preferably in his arms...

He realized his mind was trapped in a loop since he found out they were sharing a tent, over and over replaying the same stray thoughts and fantasies, torturing him beyond what was tolerable, and his patience with himself was growing thin.

Stubbornly deciding not to let his own feelings overwhelm him, he laid on his back once more, ignoring the main protagonist of his fantasies sleeping next to him, almost inviting him to hold her through the night.

He began to silently recite the names of every soldier he could remember in order to keep his mind off of her, willing his body to relax and fall into the waiting arms of the Fade. Half an hour later, he had succeeded.

oOo

The night had been difficult, but the morning proved to be almost impossible.

Cullen woke up, as usual, with the first light, even if said light hardly reached them through the canvas and the vines. Years of training and months of fighting his lyrium withdrawal usually pulled him out of bed with the sun, and today was no exception.

The woman lying next to him was, though. Especially since she seemed to be holding him.

At first, Cullen didn't understand what was happening, still too groggy to fully recall what had transpired the night before. But the moment his eyes opened and focused on the canvas almost touching the tip of his nose, it all came back to him. He was in a tent, in the middle of the Dales, sleeping with the Inquisitor, who was now so close to him that they were practically melding together. He could feel her breath on the back of his neck, her lips almost tickling him when they moved. Her full body touching his. Cullen could even feel the shape of her breast between his shoulder blades and her legs bending behind his own, pushing her body flat against him, spooning him, their feet entangled together. She had one arm around him, possessively holding him as if she were afraid he would leave. How did she get inside my covers?

Cullen swallowed roughly. The last time he had felt her like this was the night she had watched over him, when she had hugged him in a similar fashion, though his armor and fogged mind prevent him from remembering clearly. Now everything was coming back to him. The feeling of her so close, the smell of her skin, the movement of her chest when she breathed, and even the thump of her heart in his back. It was glorious and terribly uncomfortable, especially when he tried to move and she sleepily complained, holding him tighter and nuzzling him on the back of his neck, and slid her hand from his chest to his lower abdomen, dangerously close to his pants, that were getting that much tighter by the second.

To make things worse, she rearranged her position, rubbing her body against him, almost like a cat trying to caress herself with his body. He could swear the only thing lacking was the purring - until she did that as well. To be clear, it was not exactly purring, but some form of humming, right at the back of his neck, making his head spin and his body react immediately, his blood flowing furiously south and his heartbeat increasing until it reverberated in his ears, breathing growing deeper.

She was killing him, and he would have been grateful for it.

The spell broke when her hand resumed her explorations over his lower abdomen, grazing the hem of his pants, desperate to seek skin where the fabric began. That made Cullen react. He took her hand and stopped her before she could enact something he would regret allowing her to do in these circumstances. He wanted to let her do whatever she desired with him, but Maker, not like this. She needed to be awake, reassuring him it was he, and not some other man, that she was looking at through the Fade's eyes, his body a stand-in for her dreams. And yet it was so tempting to allow her these flitting explorations and play the part of the victim instead of the victimizer when she awoke.

Cullen clenched his other hand, furious with himself. Obviously he was not thinking clearly if he was considering something so despicable, at least in his mind. He needed to get out of there before everything took a turn toward the wrong path.

Carefully not to wake her, he moved her hand away from his body, trying to put distance between them even though he was already practically pinned against the side of the tent. Slowly, he untangled their feet and sat up, discarding the part of the furs that covered him between them, subconsciously trying to build a wall separating her body from his, which screamed in need of her. He realized then that what kept them warm during the night wasn't just any fur, but his own cloak. He had left it between them the night before, having no other place to lay it, and somehow it had ended covering both of them.

The moment she lost his warmth, she reached for him again, finding his cloak instead, and clutching it tightly against her body, burying her face in the fur, mumbling unintelligibly. Cullen spared one more second, unable to not file that image away in his mind before he sighed heavily, grabbed his pack, and escaped the tent.

oOo

Dorian was never able to sleep too much in the wild, not even after the glyph's spell drained him of his strength. The lack of something as essential as a mattress was a sticking point that he would never be able to get used to. And that insidious bundle of things that Bull stubbornly defined as a "pillow" was hardly the divine cloud of goose feathers he enjoy back at Skyhold, rendering his travels into something just short of head torture. Ah, but the homecoming was sheer bliss! Every time he once again reached civilization was like arriving at a foreign paradise. The first day, he hardly deigned to show himself until well past midday, too enthralled with the opportunity to, once more, enjoy the marvels of progress.

Still, while in here he could hardly rest beyond the strict amount of time his body claimed to be functional. And then his problems compounded by the blast of mental magic that struck him right when he was struggling to escape from the Fade, in that sacred moment when one knew one would have to wake up, but one's body refused to heed orders and just stubbornly decided it was better to lay on the floor with an obnoxious root piercing its way into the damned spinal cord than get up and breathe pure air that was not contaminated with Iron Bull's pungent morning fragrance.

It took Dorian only a second to know who had activated the glyph. Luckily for the Commander, he had stepped over it from the inside, or else now he would be prancing around the forest wondering what in the Maker's name he was supposed to do.

There, sitting in the tent next to Bull, Dorian seriously considered leaving the glyph active and enjoying the confusion Cullen would experience once he tried to get back into camp. But then something more interesting called his attention.

What could have made our fearless Commander leave the camp without thinking on the consequences of crossing the glyphs without waking me first?

Something had prompted him into action, and Dorian knew it wasn't any threat, otherwise the glyphs would have been activated before.

So what made you leave her, Commander?

A devious smile spread over his face. This, whatever it was, was bound to be enjoyable... Well, maybe not for Cullen and Evey, but he would definitely have a blast as soon as he figured out a little bit more about it. And he knew just where to begin.

Kicking Bull away, who barely registered the aggression, he got up and out of his tent, already donning his favorite white coat, the buckles and straps falling into place while he walked and secured them almost automatically.

When he opened Evey's tent flap, the sight that greeted him felt like a gift from Andraste herself. There she was, Evelyn Trevelyan, the mighty Inquisitor, cuddling an imaginary Cullen made of his cloak, her leg over the mantle, face buried in the mane as if it was his hair, sleeping soundly.

Dorian smiled to himself. He then remembered how Sera had once latched onto him in a similar manner after a particularly trying day. Of course, the moment she realized what she was doing, she screamed and insulted him, effectively waking him up and rendering him deaf for the rest of the day by yelling directly into his ear. If Sera, whom had as much interest in men as he had in women and therefore lacked any ulterior motive, had spooned him so shamelessly, Evey could do so with the man that turned her from a brave and fearless leader to a blushing damsel, no matter how much she denied it.

With another careful look, Dorian closed the flaps and retreated to light the fire. After that night, Cullen would probably need a strong tea, and luckily for him, Dorian always carried some of his favorite, whether to drink it himself or just to annoy Solas each time he brewed it early in the morning.

While he was waiting for the water to boil, he thought about the unfortunate situation the Commander must have awakened to. Mornings were usually not easy for men, but if you found a particular alluring creature that answered to your tastes nestled perfectly by your side, clinging to you and awakening your body before you could cross the Fade borders and come back to this world, you were bound to react even more energetically than you would if you awoke alone.

He had to admit that Cullen masked his interest well, so much so that back at Haven, Dorian was not completely sure if the Commander's attraction toward his friend was merely physical or something else entirely, although now it seemed pretty obvious which one it was.

But sometimes self-control was rendered useless when presented with just that particular brand of sin. And he was absolutely sure Evey was the right kind of morsel for men's basic appetites. Even he could see that, and he was not even that kind of men.

-So, that leaves our Commander in a tight spot.- He laughed at his unintentional pun, enjoying immensely what all of this could mean.

Finally, a distraction worth of its name to entertain him the rest of the way to Halamshiral.

Watching the Commander react to the plan, Josephine, Leliana and himself had for Evey the night of the ball was going to be an experience by itself. Almost like watching one of Varric's tales come to life.

oOo

Around three hours later, Cullen and Bull were preparing their horses while Dorian and Evey finished assembling all their gear when Dorian decided to watch the Inquisitor more closely.

Ever since she woke up, she had been deep in thought, as if she was trying to figure something out. Cullen and she were purposely avoiding one another, but Dorian suspected they had different reasons to do so. Cullen's were evident to the world. Dorian had seen how she was sleeping, hoarding not only his clothes, but his side of the tent, where he could only assume the poor Commander had been cornered before he awoke. The Tevinter imagined Cullen had escaped a compromising situation, both with her and his own body, and his suspicions has been confirmed when the Commander came back half an hour after the water boiled with the hair on the nape of his neck damp from what Dorian imagined had been a desperate attempt to distract his attention from the tantalizing memory of such awakenings. He also had a guilty expression, similar to that of an adolescent whom sought privacy to cope with the consequences of youth when discovering and struggling with the worst of his desires. To Dorian, the look on Cullen's face when he entered the alcove, without even noticing he shouldn't have been able to so carelessly, were Dorian's glyphs still active, and his eyes unconsciously searching for his and Evey's tent, had been adorable. The man looked appalled, and at the same time radiated such longing that could break anyone's heart. Then his mind had registered the fire crackling and the strong tea smell, and had looked into the alcove entrance and back at Dorian over and over like trying to understand how he had forgotten about the glyphs.

As for Evey, her reasons to avoid Cullen were harder uncover, but if Dorian had to guess, he imagined she was conflicted, wondering if she had slid to Cullen's side of the tent before or after the Commander had left on the spot. She fidgeted relentlessly in place and doubted more than once each time she found one of Cullen's possessions, unable to decide if she should be touching anything of his or not.

And the worst part for her was that the Commander was doing nothing to ease her doubts. He tried to act completely natural with her, very much so by the looks of his clenched fists and jaw when she was not looking but was close enough to him, but from time to time, he could not avoid the blush that crept from his neck up while looking at her, probably reminiscing their interaction a few hours ago, or his own some time after that.

Hours before, when they had eaten their breakfast, Dorian had taken pity on them and had rushed to occupy the place next to her by the fire, not missing Cullen's heavy exhalation of breath when he realized he did not have to sit close to her. But now, Evey was making it difficult for him to ignore her dreamy eyes while she looked at the Commander, preparing their horses next to Bull.

-Did you get some sleep?

Dorian's voice startled her, and she immediately busied herself folding a green wool cover that the mage particularly hated, but that she seemed to love carrying to warm her at night... when she didn't have the Commander, of course. This last thought made Dorian's smile widen and his inner demons wake up to come out and play.

Evey turned and looked at him with his devilish smile, fearing the worst, and raised her defenses.

-Of course I did.- Dorian's look was more than eloquent, his eyes expressing a doubt he did not feel, but that he knew would make her feel uncomfortable enough to probably slip and confess. -What are you trying to insinuate?

Dorian rejoiced. She was so delightful. She had walked right to his trap like a mouse hypnotized by a snake dance.

-I'm not insinuating anything. I'm saying it plainly.- He then looked to the Commander. -If I were in your place, I wouldn't be able to sleep at all.- His eyes turned more hungry. -Thinking of ways to lure him into my side of the tent... and then into my body.

Almost at the very second the last words had left his lips, Evey was jumping to shut his mouth with her hands, not quite touching him, but covering his lips from the other's line of sight as if Cullen would be able to read his scandalizing words from afar.

-Dorian!

He didn't look at her, instead concentrating straight on the Commander with a predatory gleam in his eyes. Imagining his friend's interest in the man, he would have never been able to act upon any of his own desires, even if they were as strong as he was hinting. He was merely trying to provoke the Inquisitior, and by the sounds of it, it was working.

Eventually Evey couldn't stand it and positioned herself in the mage's line of sight, although failed miserably in covering the Commander from his eyes. Then she added, almost whispering,

-Dorian, please don't. He doesn't share your interest and I don't want him running away from Skyhold.

This time, the mage turned to look at her, smiling lovingly.

-Oh don't worry, my dearest. I would never step into your territory.

The Inquisitor feigned scandal followed quickly by total boredom, moving away from her friend as if she didn't find his provocation funny or intelligent. She walked a few steps and knelt to close her backpack with a tie, finishing her job prematurely.

-I don't know what you're talking about.

Dorian smiled triumphantly. He had her where he wanted.

Now the coup-de-gras, as the Orlesians said.

-Riiiight,- he stretched the i in "right", openly mocking her, -that's why you were clutching his cloak this morning, burying your face in our very own lion's mane.- He had squatted next to her, whispering in her ear with that deep voice he knew sent shivers down her spine. Upon finishing his statement, he had to retreat hastily to avoid a head bump when she turned to look at him.

-How did you...- The mortified look disappeared as fast as it appeared, barely leaving him time to register it before it sunk in a polite mask.

Ohhh Josie you trained her well.

-I don't know what you are talking about.

Dorian got up at the same time she did, carelessly agreeing with her.

-Of course you don't,- he dismissed his own accusations as though they had been a crazy notion.

As a depredator he waited, grabbing his and Bull's gear while she got hers and Cullen's, almost like trying to prove she could manage his stuff with the same lightness that she could manage anything, and began to walk toward the horses.

It was only when they were a couple of steps away from Bull and Cullen that Dorian decided to walk past her and whisper in her ear.

-Oh, by the way, your hair smells like him.

After triumphantly walking straight to his horse and mounting it, he turned his head just in time to see his friend still nailed to the same spot she had been when he last spoke, looking completely embarrassed.