A/N: *gasp* Another chapter, on the same day! Within a few hours of the last one! Dear God what was the world become? xD I don't know where this chapter came from. I took something for my headache and when I came out of the loopy stage this was written, so xD We can only assume what happened. I'll be reading it with the rest of you, lol. It's really nothing but fluff and a bit of friendship between Callum and Hawke. I have no idea where it came from as it certainly wasn't planned. Oh well xD We'll see how it goes!

Chapter length: 3856 (and since it wasn't mentioned last chapter: Last chapter's length: 3774)

Onward!

Chapter Thirty-Four: My Name is Schuyler

Life at Skyhold could be rather chaotic. Callum didn't quite appreciate this as much until Hawke suddenly appeared in his room, looking sick to his stomach as he shut the door behind him. Callum's fingers uncurled form where they'd immediately gone to the hilt of one of his daggers which were attached to his back like always, and he relaxed as he offered Hawke a confused smile.

"Hey?"

Hawke scowled at him. "I need somewhere to stay for like… an hour at least."

"Of course," Callum said slowly. "What are you hiding from? I can't imagine it's Fenris."

Hawke tilted his head partially. "He and Anders are arguing again, but that's not the issue."

"Oh. Well, then what is?"

It took a lot to get Hawke this rumpled, after all. He was the Inquisitor for a reason. He was very good at his job. Callum could only imagine what the Inquisition would have been like if he hadn't agreed to the job; if he himself had somehow acquired the title and position. He shuddered at the thought. He wasn't very good in charge.

Hawke waved a dismissive hand. "Just things. I had to sit in that throne and judge a man for flinging a goat at Skyhold today."

"A goat," Callum repeated flatly. "You're not joking."

"I wish I was joking," Hawke sighed, shaking his head, running his fingers through his already disheveled hair. He must have done it a lot lately.

"And why was this man flinging a goat at us?"

"Because of what you did in the Fallow Mire," Hawke said, shrugging pathetically. "How should I know?"

"And how did you punish this man?"

To his knowledge, there had only been a few instances where Hawke had to actually sit on the throne – and yes, Josephine did force him to sit on it – and judge people's actions or lack-there-of. Callum had only been privy for one of those judgments, about a noble with potential thoughts of assassinating someone here in Skyhold. Whether or not it was the Herald or the Inquisitor he was after was never told, but Hawke judged him and sent him to the dungeons beneath Skyhold for the time being, until they were a little more organized.

They'd only been at Skyhold for just over a month, after all. The castle was cleaning up nicely, but it was still a mess with holes in the walls and everything. It would take time, but a part of Callum enjoyed helping out around Skyhold. It gave him something to do so he wouldn't have to focus on the glowing mark on his hand.

"I don't want to talk about it," Hawke sighed, making this disgusted face, and Callum couldn't help but laugh as he patted the spot next to him on his bed, shutting the book he'd been reading and pushing it aside.

"Join me," he said. "Talk to me. Cry."

"I'm not going to cry."

"Your face begs to differ," he pointed out with a smirk, which earned him a glare in return. "You obviously need to vent or at least relax a little. I'm surprised you're not with Fenris."

It was hard to find Hawke without Fenris at his side, or at the very least within sight. Callum didn't blame the elf, though; Hawke had a hard title, had to make a lot of difficult decisions about this war and everything, and now Corypheus, after they already had a past with the darkspawn…

Callum couldn't imagine any of it was easy. He knew it was taking a toll on Hawke, but Hawke rarely let it show. It was part of why he was a fantastic leader to everyone.

He'd had practice, though, in Kirkwall, before the uprising. Before the war. Before Corypheus' return to power.

"Anders is back," Hawke said, sitting next to him on his large bed, fingers rubbing tentatively at his head. Callum winced in sympathy, understanding the headache his friend had to have had. "We need him. Fenris knows this. Now we have two good healers with us – Vivienne and Anders. And I can think of no better healer than Anders."

Callum nodded. Despite their differences, the two were still friends and no matter what happened, Hawke respected Anders' abilities. No matter what he did in Kirkwall, he was still an amazing healer, and that was sorely needed right now.

"Of course, this doesn't stop Fenris from arguing," Hawke sighed.

"Brandy?"

Hawke blinked owlishly at him. "Hmm?"

"I offered you alcohol. Just say yes."

Hawke smiled, features lightening somewhat. "Yes, that sounds great, thanks."

Callum nodded and got to his feet, moving toward his desk. "I was saving this for a special occasion, but it looks like you could use it."

"Thanks," Hawke said, watching him pop open the cork and begin to pour some of the liquid into a glass. "You're the best."

"Well, of course I am," Callum said with a wink, pouring a second glass. "Someone has to be the best."

"Someone," Hawke echoed.

Callum capped the bottle again and carried the glasses over to the bed, handing one of them to Hawke. The mage quickly took a long drink of the dark liquid, sighing happily.

"Reminds me of the Hanged Man," he said fondly, looking down at the amber liquid.

Callum smirked. "The pub in Kirkwall, right?"

Hawke blinked at him. "Yes. Have you ever been there?"

"I've been to Kirkwall, but not to the Hanged Man," Callum said, shaking his head, drinking his own brandy. "I read Varric's stories, though."

A fond smile crossed Hawke's face. "He is quite the storyteller."

"I'll drink to that."

They tapped their glasses together and finished off their drinks.

"More?" Callum asked.

"Yes, please."

He got to his feet and made his way back toward the desk, just grabbing the bottle this time. "I have more if it's needed."

"Secretly stashing alcohol?"

"I'm the Herald; I'm allowed to have my hidden vices."

Hawke laughed as Callum poured him some more brandy. "I'll drink to that."

"You bet your ass you will."

They finished off their new glasses and Callum poured more. "If we keep this up we'll have to take this to the tavern," Hawke said thoughtfully, swishing the amber liquid in his glass before taking a drink.

Callum shrugged, drinking straight from the bottle. "I'm sure I could get Bull to bring us some."

"I've been meaning to ask about him, actually."

Callum quirked a brow, swallowing some of the brandy. "Oh?"

"Yes. He calls you 'Boss'."

"Yes…?"

"He doesn't call me that."

Callum couldn't help but laugh because Hawke honestly looked like he was pouting. He patted his cheek and poured some more brandy into the mage's glass. "Well, maybe I'm just a really special cookie."

"Must be," Hawke said with a smirk. "He calls me 'Boss's Boss' or just 'Inquisitor', or 'Hawke'. Why is it no one can ever say my actual name?"

This seemed a bit more bitter, and Callum paused. "You mean Caleb?"

Hawke nodded. "No one ever calls me Caleb."

He seemed remorseful now. Thoughtful, as he looked down at his nearly empty glass.

"You don't look like a Caleb," Callum said absently, pouring him some more alcohol because he clearly needed it. Hawke's eyes focused on him, blue and intense. "I mean, so maybe that's why."

"And what do I look like to you, then?"

Callum thought for a moment, before he shrugged. "A Hawke," he said truthfully.

Hawke watched him briefly. "I suppose that makes sense."

"But I could call you Caleb, if you want."

Hawke laughed. "Fenris barely calls me Caleb. If you start calling me by my first name, I don't know what I'll do."

"Now I have to do it."

Hawke finished his glass. "What about you?"

"Hmm? Me?"

"Mm. Everyone seems to call you by your name. How'd you get that to happen?"

A knot formed in his stomach.

Because it's not actually my name.

"I'm just awesome, I guess," he said, but it sounded flat even to his own ears. He definitely had Hawke's attention now. He closed his eyes but felt the blue gaze on him nevertheless.

"You don't really look like a Callum," Hawke said softly.

"I don't?"

"Not really."

"Then what do I look like?"

"I don't know," came the soft response. "Just not Callum."

Callum opened his eyes and got to his feet, downing the last of the brandy. "If we're going to keep talking about this, I need more alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol. And maybe Dorian."

"Maybe?" Hawke asked, but the smirk was tempered by the worried cadence in his voice.

Nope. Not drunk enough.

"More alcohol," he said, shaking his head.

"Am I going to hear a story about the early Callum years?"

Hawke thought he was working himself up to telling embarrassing stories.

Callum swallowed around the lump in his throat, turning away from the mage. "Yeah," he breathed, "something like that."

xXx

In the past decade – more than a decade – Callum had only told someone about his past once. Ever since he was ten, he'd only told one person about the fact he wasn't who he said he was. He never really had to explain this before, though; he was a blade for hire, really, an assassin. He didn't have to use his real name. He always had a new name every town they went, except for with the people who knew him.

He'd always been Callum to Emry.

And to Dorian.

And everyone else.

And the only one who truly knew otherwise was Dorian. Anders and Emry might have suspected, after facing the blood mage with the time traveling abilities – and fuck you, Alexius, for perfecting it in the first place – but they had no concrete proof. Only Dorian truly knew and that was because Callum had worked up the courage to tell the story only once.

And now here he was, sitting in his room with Hawke, surrounded by copious amounts of alcohol, and he didn't have to pay for any of it. The bartender gave it to them free since they were the Herald and Inquisitor, respectively. He didn't question the fact they wanted so much, either, or that they didn't want to stay in the tavern to drink it. The Iron Bull spared Callum a quick glance as they left with all of the alcohol, but said nothing, thankfully, though Callum knew the Charger knew something was amiss.

Bull was a good friend.

"So your name is Schuyler," Hawke said after about an hour of nonstop drinking, slurring his words somewhat as he attempted to focus his eyes.

"Yes," he said softly, and it hurt to admit it.

It hurt because Schuyler died with the rest of the Trevelyan family. It hurt because this was the part he had never told anyone, not even Dorian. Dorian knew the details of that night, knew Callum's true name wasn't Callum, but didn't know exactly what the name was. Or maybe he did; perhaps the blood mage mentioned it. All he knew was he had never come right out and said it to Dorian.

And now he was telling Hawke.

It hurt, but it was oddly freeing, as well, to accept that part of his life, to claim it as his own once again.

My name is Schuyler Trevelyan, and I'm twenty-three. Or twenty-four.

He stopped counting a long time ago. When was his true name day, again? Another thing he gave up the night his family died.

"It fits," Hawke said, tilting his bottle back to finish it off, tongue flicking out over the mouth of the bottle. "I mean – Callum, sure, but Schuyler fits."

Callum shrugged, twisting his bottle in his grasp. An hour of drinking and he still wasn't quite drunk enough for this, but at least he said it. He said his true name.

"Why change it?" Hawke asked.

And the sad part was Callum knew he'd ask. It was a logical question.

He still didn't have an answer.

"Just felt right," he said absently.

"Well, I mean, you don't just change who you are overnight. What did your family think of your identity crisis?"

Callum closed his eyes, the image of Sarabeth's dead eyes playing behind the lids. "They're dead, so they didn't really have a say in the matter."

Hawke went silent for a moment.

Callum kept his eyes closed, attempting to focus on his breathing. Inhale, exhale, repeat. Inhale, exhale, repeat. He could do this.

"How did they die?" Hawke finally asked, voice soft like he finally understood why they were drinking. He'd been reaching for a new bottle last Callum saw, but he hadn't heard it open yet.

"A fire," he said.

It was what he said whenever someone asked.

Somewhere along the line it became the truth.

My family died in a fire. Except they didn't.

They died before the fire, but the rest of the world didn't know that. Only Dorian really did.

"A fire?" Hawke repeated.

"Kind of."

"Kind of? What is that supposed to mean?"

Callum rubbed the heel of his palm into his forehead. He was going to have a killer migraine later, but that didn't really matter right now. Right now he felt numb. "They were killed by a blood mage. The fire covered it up."

And there it was – the second person he'd ever told this story to.

And who would have thought it would be to Hawke of all people? He would have thought it would be Emry, before anyone else. But no – it was Dorian first, and now Hawke, and Emry was nowhere to be found.

Yep, definitely a migraine.

Not that it mattered.

"Well… shit," Hawke said.

Callum's lips twitched into a weak smile. "Yeah," he sighed, "something like that."

"I'm sorry."

"It is what it is."

"Did you at least catch who did it?"

"Yes," he said curtly.

"A blood mage killed my mom," Hawke admitted, and Callum opened his eyes to blink at the mage, who was looking at the unopened bottle in his hands. He tilted it this way and that, as though it were truly interesting. "He's dead."

"That's good," Callum said with a grim smile. He held up his half-empty bottle. "To avenging families."

Hawke nodded, tapping his bottle to Callum's. "To avenging families."

They drank for a little while longer in this odd sort of silence Callum didn't really mind.

"Does Dorian know?" Hawke asked, breaking the silence.

Callum closed his eyes, resting his forehead against his bottle. "Yeah, he knows."

He was the first one I told.

"Who else knows?"

"Just the two of you, I think."

"Well… I'm flattered you told me."

Callum smiled grimly. "It's not a very good story."

"Well – we can't all be Varric."

"You have a point, my spell-bound friend."

More drinking.

"So why did you say you might need Dorian?"

Callum tried to remember the words, but his brain was fuzzy. "Did I?"

"Yes, before you said we should get drunk."

"Oh. Right. Because he's the only person who knew until now, I guess."

He wasn't sure why he wanted Dorian here. The mage just put him at ease most of the time, and his nerves had been high for a bit. Talking about this was never easy, even if it was only the second time he'd told this particular story, and he had only told Hawke the bare minimum.

This was cake compared to when he told Dorian, he supposed. He had to get into all the gory details while standing in the empty field that used to be his home.

"Fenris is going to hate me."

"Oh?" He slid his gaze toward the mage. "Why's that?"

It came out more like 'ai's sat' but oh well.

"He doesn't like me getting drunk without him. Apparently I get a bit handsy."

Callum snickered. "Well, if you try feeling me up you're going to be a bit disappointed."

Hawke laughed; it was a pleasing sound. "If you try it, you might get frozen, or zapped."

"Keep your hairy legs over there, then."

"You like my hairy legs?"

"Hairy legs are the best," Callum said distantly, closing his eyes as he rested his head on his nearly empty bottle again. Fuck, his head was really starting to hurt. Thankfully the rest of his was rather numb at the moment.

"Tell me about Dorian's hairy legs."

Callum burst out laughing, unable to stop himself despite the fact it only made his headache worse. He tossed Hawke a sharp grin. "They're warm and fuzzy."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Okay – they're warm and fuzzy when he's not kicking you with them while you sleep," he amended with a laugh, downing the rest of his bottle finally, reaching for another one. "What about Fenris?"

"Elves don't have body hair," Hawke said.

"I wasn't asking about the hair, but thanks for telling me. Now I'm definitely not touching him." He smirked at the thought as he popped open this new bottle and took a long chug of the frothy liquid. "I meant how are things between you two?"

"Good, when he's not threatening to kill Anders," Hawke said with a grimace.

"Thank the Maker I don't have that problem."

"Lucky you."

"Yeah," he said wistfully, flexing his left hand. "Lucky me."

"So do I have to threaten to kill Anders, or can anyone join this party?" came a voice from the doorway.

Callum startled, reaching for his daggers even as he spun to face the door, nearly falling off the bed in the process as the room spun around him. Thankfully he'd taken his daggers off earlier, to avoid this very thing. He flashed Dorian a quick smile.

"Dori!" he said cheerily. "Come get drunk with me!"

"Looks like you managed that on your own," Dorian mused, eying him with a small smirk even as he stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Do you never knock?" Hawke asked, though he didn't actually sound irritated, only bemused.

"I did knock," Dorian said, "but I was ignored and overheard something about murdering Anders."

"Fenris is threatening Anders again," Callum said, watching the way his mage moved. A grin spread across his face. His mage. He liked that, he decided. He liked that a lot. "Come sit with me!"

Dorian shook his head but did as he was told, moving across the room to sit next to Callum. "How much have you had to drink, exactly?"

"I've only been drinking for about two hours," Callum said with a frown. "I think." He looked at Hawke, raising a brow.

Hawke shrugged, taking a chug of his alcohol. "Don't look at me; I'm not good at time. Always late to everything."

"And you call yourself the Inquisitor," Callum accused, but Hawke and Dorian only burst out laughing even though he was being serious. "What?"

"Sound it out," Dorian said smugly. "In-quis-it-or."

Callum glared at the Necromancer. "It's a long word, okay?"

"He has a point," Hawke said.

Dorian smirked and rolled his eyes. "This is why you shouldn't get drunk, Amatus."

"I demand you tell me what that means."

Hawke laughed again. Callum frowned. He thought for sure he pronounced all of that right.

"It means 'beloved," Hawke said with a smile.

Dorian's face turned completely red and he looked away. Callum grinned, a burst of warmth flowing through him. It could have been the alcohol. "So you love me, Dori?"

"I hate you."

"Denny says otherwise," Callum said in a sing-song voice, practically throwing himself into Dorian's lap, arms looping around his neck as he smiled goofily. Dorian's face brightened further.

"What are you doing?"

"Hugging you," Callum said simply. "I can't hug Denny but I can hug you, so it works I guess."

Hawke laughed. "And on that note, I'm leaving."

He got to his feet and staggered.

"Don't fall," Callum warned.

"Wasn't planning on it," Hawke retorted, rolling his eyes. "If the door would just stop moving…"

Callum watched, amused, as Hawke staggered toward the door and managed to finally open it and step out of the room. After the door closed behind him, he looked back at Dorian, who was simply watching him as he sat in the mage's lap.

"Hi," he said with a big smile.

"Hello," Dorian said, quirking a brow despite the blush dusting his cheeks. "You reek of alcohol."

"But you love me anyway."

The blush brightened.

"Aw, hello, Denny!"

He kissed Dorian's cheek and Dorian shoved him away with a scowl, wiping at his cheek where he was just kissed.

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Not nearly enough," Callum sighed, mirth dying away as he looked away from Dorian's perfect face.

"Amatus?"

The concern in Dorian's voice was touching. The burst of warmth at the moniker wasn't unexpected.

"I told Hawke."

"Told Hawke what?"

"That I'm a dragon."

Dorian's brows furrowed. "Excuse me?"

He snickered before the smirk died away. "I told him about my family. About… my actual name."

"I see," Dorian said slowly, brows pulling closer together. "That couldn't have been easy."

"It was terrible," Callum said with a nod. "But I told him." He took in a slow breath, black dots flashing across his vision momentarily. Fuck, he was thirsty. "My name is Schuyler. Schuyler Trevelyan."

Dorian smiled sadly, not quite reaching his eyes. "I know that, Amatus."

"Right. Blood mage and his stupid fucking mouth."

"Amatus…"

He relaxed into the warmth that was Dorian's chest, resting his head on the mage's shoulder. His exposed shoulder because of his wardrobe. "I like it when you call me that," he said quietly.

Dorian stiffened around and beneath him, before a warm arm came around him. "Amatus."

Yes, don't ever stop saying it.

It was the one title he didn't hate.

It was the one name that didn't feel like a lie.

"Dorian…"

He was Amatus, and Dorian was his.

He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. All around him was Dorian – in the air, beneath him, around him… all Dorian.

"I like us."

"Hmm?" Dorian hummed, the vibrations soothing beneath Callum's cheek, on the mage's shoulder.

"I like us," he said again, a bit louder. "I like what we have, how we are."

"As do I," Dorian replied fondly.

He didn't often speak fondly, but the cadence in his voice was noticeable nevertheless, even to Callum's foggy brain at the moment. He liked that tone. Liked it a lot.

"Why did you come here?" he couldn't help but ask, a few minutes later.

It was strange, really – him just sitting on Dorian's lap with his head on Dorian's shoulder, nearly falling asleep while Dorian's arms wound around him, keeping him in place. It was comfortable and yet awkward, but he wouldn't change a thing.

"To check on you," Dorian replied. "Bull thought something was amiss. He told me you took the tavern to your room."

Callum smiled against Dorian's smooth skin. "Glad you're here, Dori."

More silence for a moment.

Then lips buried in Callum's hair. "Me too, Amatus. Me too."

A/N: And there's that chapter :) Like I said, came out of nowhere. Hope to get into Here Lies the Abyss soon, but no promises. Thanks for reading and please review!

~Muffy the Dough Slayer~