Dorian stopped to glare at the chessboard in the garden. It was still set, ready to be played. As far as Dorian knew, no one else ever bothered. Perhaps he should consider himself lucky that there was at least one man in Skyhold to match wits — it would be dreadfully dull without Commander Cullen.
And indeed, it was dreadfully dull without him. It was rare for Cullen to leave Skyhold, and even then that was generally accompanied by some greater mission such as the journey to the Winter Palace. This time, however, there was no great scheme or battle so far as Dorian was aware. Cullen had been there, beautiful and tormented, and then he had been gone.
Dorian had tried to find out why, but the only person who seemed to have that knowledge was decidedly careful not to reveal it. "Personal business," was all Leliana had said.
Personal business. What could possibly be personal that was not already here in Skyhold? Dorian knew the Commander had some living family, at least one brother and one sister, but Cullen had admitted to not seeing any of them since the day he left to join the Templar Order. Any friends from his time in the Order were either dead or the enemy, so that seemed unlikely to draw him away.
The man could have at least told Dorian that he was leaving. With all the time the two had been spending together lately, surely Dorian was owed that. Afternoons playing chess, drinks shared in the evenings, heated moments in shadowed corners — did all that truly mean nothing to the Commander?
Of course it didn't mean anything. Dorian shook his head as he resumed his way to the War Room. Cullen did not mean anything to him either. Just because Cullen now allowed a small bit of vulnerability, a tiny concession of mutual attraction, it did not change the fact that the two were not friends.
It was only that Dorian was privy to Cullen's struggle with lyrium addiction that led to them spending multiple nights together. Someone had to tend to him, to keep his forehead cool, to prevent injury from his seizures, to stop him from taking the easy way out and flinging himself over the ramparts. It simply would not do for the Inquisition's Commander to off himself like that. Who would Dorian get to tease and goad then?
Sharing a bed did not make them partners. Even when it continued after the worst of the withdrawals had finally subsided.
Dorian considered telling Leliana of just how terrible Cullen's symptoms were. She could get the Commander access to the best healers, ensure he was never left alone, keep him from having any chance of succumbing either to indulging his addiction or to seeking death.
It was Cullen's secret to tell, though, and if he insisted on leaving Skyhold without Dorian, then that was his prerogative.
And perhaps he would be back, now. Dorian had not been to a War Table meeting in some weeks, not since Cullen had vanished. For all he knew that was because they were missing their Commander, so certain items and plans had to be put on hold.
When he got to the War Room, however, he was not only annoyed by the lack of a handsome, unstable Commander. It seemed to be a fairly bizarre gathering as Leliana shut the door behind him, evidently expecting no one else.
Four mages, the Spymaster, and the Ambassador.
This did not bode well.
Solas arched a curious eyebrow at him, the same idea clearly crossing his mind. Vivienne gave him a charming smile and gracious nod, but even she appeared unnerved by the unusual meeting.
Josephine did not look at any of them. She was staring blankly at the papers she always seemed to have in hand, but the fingers of her other hand were tightly interlaced with Maxwell's. The Inquisitor himself did not look well. He was pale, beads of sweat shining along his hairline. He leaned forward against the table on his other hand, this one clenched into a tight fist. It was shaking.
If Dorian didn't know better, he'd think the Inquisitor was also suffering from lyrium withdrawal.
"Thank you for coming," Leliana said in an obvious effort to rouse Maxwell from whatever thoughts he had been trapped in.
"Yes, thank you," the Inquisitor said quietly, slowly straightening up and slipping his hand away from Josephine's. The Ambassador quickly wiped at her eyes, leaving a few tear stains behind.
Oh no, this did not bode well at all.
Maxwell took a deep breath. "I've asked you three here for…well, you three are the best mages I know."
Dorian did not miss the disapproving glance from Vivienne as she judged that she was far better than either himself or the elven apostate. The woman did have the grace to hold her tongue, though.
"I've learned a great deal from all of you. I'm hoping…if anyone can manage a miracle, you might."
Dorian's gaze drifted back to Josephine, who was wiping away further errant tears.
"Before we go further, I want to make it clear that this is for no others' ears," Leliana said firmly, with a cold glare falling on Dorian. "If I hear any whisper, I will know who it was."
Dorian crossed his arms over his chest as he stared back, refusing to flinch.
"I trust everyone in this room, Leliana," Maxwell chided her. "They wouldn't be here otherwise." Yet the Inquisitor still hesitated before saying, "All three of you have studied red lyrium, at least somewhat."
"Certainly," Vivienne replied. Solas and Dorian both gave short nods to confirm.
"Any luck finding a way to reverse its effects?"
Dorian's lips parted with surprise at the question as Solas stepped forward to offer his version of wisdom. "I have not studied such a possibility specifically, but there is no known way to reverse it. Once ingested, the corrupted lyrium corrupts the person in turn. Any reversal of that process is incredibly unlikely."
Vivienne nodded. "Like with regular lyrium, once used by a non-mage, the body becomes dependent on it. It will claim the body and mind eventually, depending on the individual's strength of will, state of health, and level of use."
"Yes, it would hardly be a useful tool for your Chantry if their hold over templars could be easily broken," Dorian said in agreement, the bitterness in his tone perhaps a little more obvious than he would like. He caught Leliana looking at him intently — far too intently. Dorian cleared his throat before he continued, "Red lyrium is worse. It is infected with the Blight, and just like the Blight, it isn't something anyone could recover from." Like Felix.
Although…Dorian's mind wandered back to his old friend. Gereon had said something about that once, hadn't he? That his Elder One, this Corypheus, had offered a cure for the Blight.
Had that been a lie? A trick to gain Gereon's support and magical prowess? Or did their shared enemy know something the rest of them could not fathom yet? But even if there was a way to cure it, that did not mean it would be possible to save someone from red lyrium. It was apparent that it was already a difficult and dangerous effort with regular lyrium.
All the confirmations that nothing could be done to reverse the corruption of red lyrium seemed to drain Maxwell of his strength. He moved to sit on the edge of the War Table, his head hanging low as he closed his eyes. "There must be something," he said finally.
"There may yet be," Solas admitted. "We have not had the chance to examine such corruption in a living body."
"Any volunteers?" Dorian quipped under his breath. Solas' eyes narrowed at him, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
Dorian's attempt at levity had a decidedly opposite effect on most of the room. Josephine clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob, Maxwell immediately moved to hold her, and Leliana even appeared somewhat shaken.
And a most dreadful thought occurred to Dorian.
"Where is the Commander?" he demanded.
Maxwell looked at him over his shoulder with wet eyes, keeping his arms wrapped around Josephine. He slowly shook his head.
Dorian's heart dropped.
"The Commander was ambushed," Leliana finally started to explain. "They…." She hesitated, awkwardly clearing her throat. Dorian was grateful for just those few seconds of hope that it wasn't going to be what he thought she was going to reveal. "He was forced to take red lyrium."
It took every ounce of Dorian's willpower to remain standing. His legs shook from the effort, urging him to sit on the War Table like the Inquisitor had done or to fall back against the wall.
No, no, no.
After everything Cullen had been through to break lyrium's chains, do undo the damage the fucking Chantry had done to him…. Dorian's magic prickled under his skin, longing to lash out at whoever dared do such a thing — wanting to lash out at anyone. Dorian struggled to breathe but forced long, deep breaths through his nose. He couldn't lose control, and he certainly couldn't reveal how deeply the news affected him. Because it shouldn't, not like this.
Maker, not like this.
"That is…appalling," Solas said somewhat shakily.
"Most unfortunate," Vivienne said, her tone untouched by concern. "He knew a great deal about our organization. If he's turned —."
"He's not turned," Leliana interrupted firmly.
Vivienne eyed her coolly. "Red lyrium brings madness, and apparently encourages their questionable allegiances. The Commander was hardly the most stable man to begin with. If he still lives, he is a threat to the Inquisition. If not now, then once the corruption strengthens."
Dorian could have slapped her. If he wasn't hugging his arms over his chest still, now clinging to himself like that was all holding him together, he probably would have. Not that she was entirely incorrect — Cullen wasn't stable and Dorian sort of loved that.
The thought surprised him, but he dismissed it as part of his shock at the news.
"It takes time for that to happen, First Enchanter," Solas offered. "If such corruption was immediate, the red templars would not have gone unnoticed for so long."
"That is true," Vivienne conceded. "We probably have some time. Perhaps enough to look for some way, if not to reverse the process, at least to slow its progress."
Dorian was only half-listening, his gaze caught by Josephine's tears. She was still crying, silently but steadily. He understood that feeling, but the detail tugged mercilessly at his mind.
Taking red lyrium was not an immediate change. The corruption took time, that was proven by the fact there still were red templars to deal with across Thedas.
But that depended on…oh no.
"There's more, isn't there?" Dorian managed. "He's dying." The word caught in his throat, but he was Magister Pavus and he was not going to cry about the fate of a Fereldan dog.
Not with all these witnesses, anyway.
Leliana's eyes, usually so cold, finally gave away a bit of sorrowful warmth. "Yes. He is."
"Already?" Solas tilted his head curiously. "That should not be possible. The Commander is a man in his prime. The other templars are still living with the corruption after months, if not longer. Why would he be different?"
"Because he stopped taking lyrium," Dorian muttered. "His body is already weakened from that, and with-without…." Dorian blinked, glancing from person to person as everyone in the room turned to him with varying levels of shock. "Without it…why are you all looking at me like that?" he asked irritably.
"What did you say?" Maxwell asked breathlessly.
Dorian swallowed the lump in his throat before trying again. He was unfortunately certain Leliana noticed. "That in his current state, he was weakened and —."
"No, before that," Maxwell interrupted urgently.
Dorian retraced his words. Had he said something he shouldn't have? No, not really. Cullen had mentioned Leliana knew about his attempt to refrain from lyrium, as did Cassandra. Perhaps Josephine didn't, but the other mages would all know the same as he did. The only admission would really be that it was affecting Cullen more than the Commander wished to admit. Maybe he really should have mentioned that to Leliana. "He stopped taking lyrium."
Maxwell's jaw dropped as he turned to Leliana, who was still staring at Dorian incredulously. "Is that true?" Maxwell demanded angrily.
Maxwell…didn't know.
Leliana slowly nodded. "Yes." Her eyes narrowed. "Cullen wouldn't have told you, Ser Pavus."
"He didn't, strictly speaking," Dorian admitted, more than a little shaken by the turn in the conversation and wanting to get back to the very important part about Cullen dying. "It can't be that secret. He doesn't smell like a templar anymore."
But when he glanced toward Solas and Vivienne, he realized that apparently it was that secret and that, in fact, they didn't smell the difference. It had not occurred to Dorian that he might be unique in that measure and he had no idea how to take it or how to play it off.
"I cannot say I noticed any such difference," Solas said finally. "But then, I also do not know him intimately," he added softly, an unsettling gleam in his eyes.
"Indeed," Vivienne added, arching an incredibly judgmental eyebrow at Dorian. "I had no idea the two of you had become so close."
Dorian felt heat rising up his neck and this simply wasn't fair. Cullen was dying, and they should be trying to figure out a way to save him — not making assumptions about Dorian's sex life, as if there even was one. He hadn't so indulged since before the Winter Palace.
He really didn't want to think about the reason for that.
"Nothing intimate about it. He doesn't smell like other templars," Dorian claimed again, though now his mind was trying to go back through every encounter with Cullen to figure out just when he had noticed.
"That's why you could tell — blood. The lyrium lingers in templars' blood," Maxwell muttered, his eyes widening and a slow grin tugging at his lips.
Dorian instinctively shook his head, but then remembered that threat from Cassandra when they had first met. She had said she could set the lyrium in his blood aflame — clearly under the assumption Dorian regularly used lyrium for his abilities.
But that wasn't how Dorian amplified his power. And Maxwell knew it.
"Max, I'm sure that —," he started, but the Inquisitor cut over him.
"You could do it," the Inquisitor gasped.
Dorian really hated the way everyone was looking at him now. He wasn't sure if Maxwell had ever told anyone that he had witnessed Dorian using blood magic when they had been trapped in that future, but he was clearly on the verge of letting that secret slip now.
"Max, no," Dorian pleaded quietly, even as his mind raced to figure out potential spells, enchantments, and methods that could be used for such a thing. Surely it could be done. It would be invasive, it would be dangerous, but it could be done.
"Just because Ser Pavus is from Tevinter, it does not follow that he knows blood magic," Vivienne said in Dorian's defense, much to her own surprise judging by her astonished expression.
"It's not an assumption," Solas said coolly. Dorian's brow furrowed as the elf shrugged. "I did notice that," Solas said pointedly.
It was probably a miracle that Leliana did not slay him on the spot. Or possibly a mark of her affection for the Commander. "Is this true?"
"I know what I'm asking," Maxwell said, wide blue eyes shining with hope as he moved around the table to get closer to Dorian. "And I know what I said before. But Dorian, if there is a chance, isn't it worth it?" Dorian gulped.
Isn't he worth it?
"I would venture to guess that it just might work, Inquisitor," Solas offered. "Depending on how skilled our Tevinter friend is. However, there is a great risk."
"I would never ask this if we had another choice." Oh, so now such methods were okay? Since when had the Inquisitor come to care so much about their unstable Commander? And yes, Dorian was well aware of the irony. "We'll be here to help you should blood magic exert the same sort of addiction as lyrium," Maxwell said to Dorian. As if that was the source of Dorian's hesitation in the face of this prospect.
"Forgive me, but I did not mean a risk to Dorian."
Maxwell finally looked away from Dorian, allowing the mage a chance to breathe — although Leliana's eyes were still fixated on him. "What do you mean?"
Solas considered for a moment, eyeing Dorian thoughtfully. "I mean that such…intimate magic could be used to put the Commander in thrall. Indeed, it would be near impossible for such a bond to be avoided."
"Then we cannot risk it," Leliana said sharply. "We should not consider it at all," she added, seemingly to convince herself more than anyone else in the room. "It is an affront to the Maker, and if there's a chance Ser Pavus could do more harm than good it is not worth it."
Maxwell looked expectantly at Dorian, like he would be some sort of deciding factor here. When Dorian did not reply, Maxwell leaned in close to his ear. "I know you think I'm naive, but I've seen the way you look at him. Do this for him. Please."
Dorian swallowed with difficulty, averting his eyes to stare at the War Table.
He did not dare voice it aloud, but the moment such a potential cure was mentioned he had already known what he was going to do — though it was highly likely the Commander would kill him if it worked.
Hopefully Cullen could be restrained long enough to allow Dorian to obliterate whoever did this to him. If anyone was to be the ruin of Cullen Rutherford, it was going to be Dorian Pavus.