Dorian may never have considered himself a wise man, but he was an intelligent one. True to his prediction, Corypheus had decided his followers needed to find a new base immediately after the apparent turncoat had joined them. Dorian did not bother asking any questions that could potentially offer some useful information, not wanting to appear too eager. He instead busied himself with minor tasks as they came and spoke as amicably as possible with the Venatori. Most of the Venatori didn't like him, though, and none were stupid enough to trust him, so he mostly found himself lurking around Erimond. At least Livius would deign to speak with him.

Still, spending as much time as possible surrounded by other Tevinters was a great help in keeping Samson far away from him. The red templar wanted Dorian dead, and perhaps he even knew the mage wanted him dead too, but a confrontation in the middle of Corypheus' camp would do nothing but bring Dorian's defection to a bitter and untimely end.

"Somehow I imagined the Venatori lounging in some remote, lavish estate," he commented as he clutched his cloak closed against the bitter wind. "Not traipsing about the Ferelden countryside."

Erimond laughed. "There's the Dorian I remember. Complaining when everything isn't glittering gold and the servants have better things to do than massage his feet."

"My feet are freezing, thank you," Dorian returned sharply. "They could certainly do with a massage after this."

Erimond smirked, eyeing him curiously as he said, "Was the Inquisition's castle to your liking?"

Dorian snorted, though the thought of Skyhold did spark a surprising warmth in his chest. "You're joking. It was hardly warmer in there than it is out here."

"Did you at least have servants to massage your feet?" Erimond prodded brightly.

Dorian rolled his eyes. "No servants at all, actually. Slavery is outlawed here, and they suffer greatly for it."

Erimond glanced toward where his slaves were dragging his belongings behind the rest of the Ventori. "Must have been dreadful, spending all that time with such barbarians."

"I know you're fishing, but I admit it wasn't all bad." Dorian brushed snow from his shoulders with a shiver before he continued, "The harsh weather creates some, shall we say, fine specimens." He dropped a suggestive wink and now it was Livius' turn to roll his eyes.

"Those big, burly Southerners are what make your blood hot now?" He leered in a strangely friendly manner. "Better than your Qunari phase, at least."

The remark made Dorian's blood run far colder than the surrounding snow had managed thus far. Yes, he had once craved those barbaric Tal-Vashoth following an utter failure of an attempt to literally scare him straight. He did not appreciate any reminder of the late Magister; since he took his father's place in the Magisterium, he avoided those brutes like a plague.

Well, with a minor exception for his flirtatious friendship with the Iron Bull, but since Bull was technically a Qunari spy rather than truly Tal-Vashoth, he got a pass.

Dorian allowed none of his thoughts or the tainted memories to show on his face, of course, smirking gleefully back. "Oh Livius, you haven't lived until a beast like that fucks you through a bed."

Erimond blanched. "Void, the South hasn't done anything for your propriety, has it?"

"As if it could," Dorian laughed. If my father couldn't manage it, a bunch of southern barbarians certainly wouldn't. He hated the knowing look Erimond gave him, like he knew exactly what Dorian was thinking.

Erimond was, unfortunately, one of the few Magisters who had some idea about what had come between Dorian and his father, although thankfully he did not know the details. Dorian and Livius had crossed paths fairly often in the past, even both teaching young apprentices side by side in Vyrantium for a while until Dorian got himself thrown out for…well, whatever reason it was that time. Honestly Dorian couldn't keep them straight; he'd been thrown out of so many Circles.

He'd never particularly liked Livius and was well aware that the reverse was true. He was never one Dorian pegged as an enemy, though, which made his fervent devotion to the Elder One a little surprising. He had thought the man had more sense than that.

Due to the weather at this altitude, Dorian could not imagine where the Elder One planned to set up a new camp. While the red templars could do fine when exposed to the elements, the Venatori were as susceptible to the cold as anyone. This was, unfortunately, why they traveled through the night and far into the next day, not once stopping to rest and only slowing down to eat while walking.

It was absolutely dreadful, and Dorian was certain he was not the only Venatori irked by their circumstances. However, it turned out that Corypheus did have a plan.

Dorian tried not to look about the caverns too closely. He had already noted that the walls and ceilings were covered in massive spiderwebs, and there was a foul smell in the air all around them. If there were any darkspawn nearby this section of the Deep Roads, they apparently decided such a large group was not worth it.

He had just settled down to sleep, wondering if he would finally be able to meet with the Commander again tonight, when one of Livius' slaves came to him with a message to meet with the Elder One immediately.

Shaking off sleep and ensuring he was as presentable as could be expected, he followed the slave at a leisurely pace to hide how concerned he was by this summons.

Erimond and Samson were the only others with Corypheus. They had obviously been talking, but fell silent as Dorian approached.

Keep it together, Pavus.

Samson bowed to the Elder One before leaving, casting a delighted sneer at Dorian as he walked by. Dorian hoped that was not a hint as to what he should expect from this meeting. At least Erimond's smile was somewhat encouraging; though perhaps the fact he seemed to know Dorian would need encouragement did not bode well.

"The time has come to prove your worth," Corypheus announced.

Dorian fell into a bow, the action carefully timed to hide his nervous swallow. "What does the Elder One require of me?" he asked as he straightened, staring at Corypheus' chin to avoid the temptation to look him in the eye.

Corypheus' face stretched horrifically as his mouth pulled into what would have been a smile, were he closer to human. "How would you like to rule the Inquisition?"

Dorian's eyes widened, and he barely had the wherewithal to keep from gaping at the creature. The fleeting ideas he'd considered of possible tests and trials suddenly seemed quite dull. He resisted the urge to look to Erimond for some indication of how he was expected to respond, instead forcing a slow smirk.

"I would like that very much," Dorian replied evenly. It helped that there was a bit of truth to that.

"Anyone would," Erimond said under his breath.

"Indeed," Corypheus stated dully. "Another question, then: how far are you willing to go to take it?"

Dorian fought to keep from blinking, his smirk still firmly in place. "As far as necessary."

Corypheus sighed with an obvious air of disappointment. "That is quite vague."

Dorian wet his lips as he considered what to add. "I would think the details trivial. I expect you would be most interested in the false prophet — the so-called Herald of Andraste," he sneered as his heart beat painfully against his chest. "I can kill him for you," he offered.

He hated the thought. Maxwell had always been kind to him, accepted him when he truly should not have, but the man did have an unfortunately bright target on his hand. But there could be ways to remove him from play without resorting to his murder. He would be able to find an alternative, given time.

"Somehow I doubt the Inquisition will follow the one who murdered his predecessor."

Dorian smiled as brilliantly as he could manage. "Oh, I don't know. You'll find I can be rather persuasive."

"That is true, my lord," Erimond affirmed, much to Dorian's surprise. "After all, he's done it before." Dorian's gaze slipped sharply over to the other Magister. Erimond smirked back. "Haven't you, Magister Pavus?"

Corypheus appeared honestly curious. "What does that mean?"

Livius tilted his head. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, my old friend. Tell him."

Dorian's eyes narrowed slightly with suspicion. He could not tell if Erimond was trying to undermine him, or actually help him. "It's trite, really," Dorian began quietly. "I believe Magister Erimond is referring to how I came into the Magisterium."

"And gained quite a bit of power there, despite his annoying tendency to wave away alliances. He's got a talent for removing the competition," Erimond added.

"Do tell," Corypheus prompted.

Was he really going to air his darkest secrets to the fucking Elder One, of all people? Erimond probably knew already, or at least suspected. Fortunately, considering how successfully Dorian had kept the truth to his chest, that did give him room to embellish.

"My father and I never agreed on much, and he knew I would disrupt the delicate balance he'd spent years crafting. He always thought too small," Dorian said. "But I was still surprised to discover that my father was considering naming his apprentice as his heir," Dorian lied smoothly. "Before he could set that on record, however, his apprentice came to…an untimely demise."

It felt like taking a blade to the chest when Dorian forced a dark grin. The bit about the apprentice meeting an unfortunate death was certainly true, but it had not been Dorian who caused the accident that stole away his beloved Kaeso. He had never been able to prove who sabotaged that experiment — if he had, he suspected his father would have met his own accident long before his eventual murder.

Corypheus seemed somewhat disappointed in this explanation, but the sordid tale did not end there. "But clearly it was time for new leadership of my house. My family needed someone with vision, someone who would not shy away from improving our standing." Dorian examined his fingernails, pretending he didn't see blood on his hands in his minds' eye. "My father was in my way. And now he is not."

He chanced a glance toward Erimond, who looked somewhat startled by this confirmation. Perhaps he truly had no idea how the former Magister Pavus had met his end. The idea that Dorian had murdered his father was a common rumor, one which Dorian had carefully danced around ever since. Of course, here Dorian had twisted it to hide the real sequence of events and his actual motivation. The truth of what happened in that underground room was a secret he'd take to the grave.

"As I said, as far as necessary," Dorian finished.

Dorian was unsure if the story had swayed Corypheus about him, but following some further questions concerning the Inquisition and Skyhold, he was horrified to learn what the Elder One planned.

Unfortunately, Cullen had not visited Dorian's dreams that night.

He was still struggling to determine whether he was being used as bait, or if Corypheus actually believed the plan would work, when he and Erimond were traipsing through snow the next morning.

"You know this is a terrible plan, yes?" Dorian dared to ask after they had been on the move for hours.

"You've provided a unique opportunity," Livius replied.

"A unique opportunity to get us both killed," Dorian muttered bitterly.

Erimond eyed him curiously. "With everything you've said about the false Herald, he seems foolish and soft."

"And that's entirely true," Dorian reaffirmed. "But he's just the figurehead. There are others who will be less inclined to take us at our word."

"Like your Commander?"

Dorian didn't dignify that with an answer, shooting a glare Erimond's way before melting some of the snow in their path. Climbing the mountain was thankfully both treacherous and exhausting enough that Livius chose to save his breath for a time.

"Wouldn't it be easier to take the direct route?" Erimond complained, leaning against a barren tree. "There is a road to the castle, is there not?"

Dorian took the chance to have a seat and catch his breath. "Yes, but we'd be discovered by their scouts at once." He pulled out a waterskin and took a deep drink.

Erimond's brow furrowed. "Wouldn't that be the point? Sneaking in like thieves is hardly going to win any trust."

Dorian shook his head as he offered the water. "The scouts are under the Spymaster's command, not the Inquisitor's."

"So?"

"We don't want to be found by her people first," Dorian said firmly. "I doubt we'll manage to get an audience with Maxwell once she has her hands on us."

Erimond returned the waterskin with a confused frown. "Why not?"

Dorian laughed hollowly. "She would interrogate us."

"So?" Erimond said again. "We're going to be doing a lot of lying already."

Dorian scoffed. "By interrogation, I mean torture, my friend." Erimond's eyes widened. "She never trusted me in the first place, but I was spared because I'd already wormed into the Herald's confidence — which is a shield I can no longer depend on thanks to that bloody templar's antics."

Livius swallowed, finally showing a hint of nerves. "So then how do we gain their confidence?"

"We hope to reach Maxwell before anyone else has us imprisoned," Dorian replied glumly.

"What if he isn't there?"

Dorian shrugged helplessly. "I think it's likely we will be spending the rest of this war in a dungeon."

"I think I see why you hate this plan," Erimond grumbled. "Maybe you did too well convincing the Elder One of your ability to usurp power."

Dorian winced. "It was your idea," he accused.

"Not my finest," Erimond admitted quietly. "To be fair, I didn't realize you actually murdered your father. I thought you used his death as a chance to spread the rumor."

Dorian forced a chuckle but did not reply.

The two somehow managed to avoid any of the aforementioned scouts, finally stopping to rest once more when Skyhold was visible high above them in the distance. Dorian wrapped himself more tightly in his cloak. It was so cold he felt his fingers and toes were going to fall off. Now that they were nearer, they didn't dare use any overt magic to keep warm, and Dorian was barely managing enough to stave off frostbite.

"We should get some sleep, if we can," he suggested. "We can climb the rest of the way closer to dawn. They should assume we traveled through the night in our haste."

Truthfully Dorian did not trust sleeping with no one around but Erimond, and he was starting to consider that even an interrogation room would be more comfortable than this. But unless his eyes were deceiving him, it didn't appear that there were any lights in Cullen's tower. Maybe this terrible plan could be somewhat salvaged.

Dorian was surprised when the comforting warmth of home wasn't there to greet him. He shivered and hugged himself, grateful that he seemed to at least be wearing more than silk this time. It was fairly dark, but the light of the moons reflected off the nearby lake.

He was somewhere in Ferelden, as the chill and snow made apparent, but he did not recognize his surroundings further than that.

"Hello, Dorian," a warm voice said in his ear.

He jumped and turned around to see Commander Cullen standing just behind him with a small, but pleased, grin.

"Commander?" Dorian gasped, restraining the frankly alarming urge to embrace him as he searched the man's eyes for any hint of violet. But of course it wasn't a desire demon — no demon would think bringing him somewhere so cold would be a good idea.

This was somewhere Cullen had brought them.

"I grew up nearby. I used to come here to hide from my siblings," Cullen said, nodding toward the lake.

"Did you do this intentionally?" Dorian asked curiously. Cullen nodded, still smiling softly.

Cullen seemed in a strangely pleasant mood, which was really starting to make Dorian feel nervous. Cullen stepped around him to approach the pier, leaning against the wooden post. "So your tip about the Pass was good," he said suddenly.

Dorian sighed with relief. Cullen was in a good mood because he'd determined that Dorian could be trusted. That would make explaining what was coming to Skyhold much easier.

"I have some urgent news," he began moving to stand beside him. Cullen arched an eyebrow. "How quickly can you evacuate Skyhold?"

Cullen frowned. "We're not evacuating Skyhold just because you've blabbed about the location."

"It's not that," Dorian said quickly. "Look, can you get the civilians out by the lift?"

"We're not doing that."

"Cullen!" Dorian groaned exasperatedly.

"You know as well as I that we can defend the bridge. Corypheus' forces can't get close."

"He won't need to get close," Dorian hissed. "Listen, my body is currently freezing solid, and I need you to use your newfound trust in me —."

"I don't trust you," Cullen cut over him. "I fully expect you to stab me in the back." He was continuing to smile faintly, though. "But…I do want you to come home."

The admission made Dorian's mind go blank. There was no way he heard Cullen's words correctly. "You — what?"

Cullen shifted so he was facing Dorian, his eyes shining warmly in the moonlight. "I want you to come back to Skyhold."

Dorian gaped at him, still not believing it. "You do?"

What had happened since they last spoke? Cullen had just admitted himself that he did not trust Dorian. He had been so angry before, obviously terrified by the power Dorian could choose to exert over him.

"Why?" Dorian asked suspiciously.

Cullen hummed as he looked back over the lake. It was so quiet, with nothing but the gentle lapping of the water and a few insects chirping. "I find that I don't like the idea of you being in danger. So yes, I want you to leave your new friends and come back." Cullen grinned at him. "I'll even refrain from killing you on sight."

Well, that was almost comforting.

Dorian opened his mouth to start trying to explain everything again when Cullen held up a hand. "On one condition."

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Dorian sighed again and nodded. "What condition?"

Cullen didn't blink, tilting his head as he intently searched Dorian's face. "Tell me what that Tevene word means. The one you called me during the ritual?"

Dorian's brow furrowed, trying to recall all the different things he'd said during those dreams. "Soporati?" he guessed. "It's a fancy word for someone without magic." That did not seem to be significant enough for such a condition, though.

Cullen shook his head, his expression still peacefully pleasant.

"I'm not sure what —." Dorian's eyes widened, his heart leaping into his throat as the memory struck him like lightning. Reading one of his favorite books aloud, stroking Cullen's hair like a lover, holding him close and watching over him as he slept, and worst of all: Sleep well, amatus.

Oh, fuck.

But no, Cullen had not been awake to hear that. That could not be what he meant. Dorian gulped, knowing that more than a little of his building anxiety was showing on his face.

"Not that one," Cullen said calmly, eyes twinkling like stars as he took in Dorian's sudden panic. "Amatus."

Dorian could play this off. It wasn't like there was anyone in the Inquisition who could correct the lie. He forced a chuckle, pretending that the word had no hold over him. "I don't think there's a direct translation," he began. That much was the truth, anyway. "It's…sort of an endearment." He could not stand to keep looking at Cullen any longer, his gaze falling to stare into the water. "Now remember you said you wouldn't kill me, but I suppose it's something like…my pet," Dorian lied.

Cullen didn't respond and Dorian tried very hard not to look but eventually ignoring the man was not an option. He cautiously glanced up to see that Cullen's expression had not changed. His countenance was almost fond, a hint of amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"I do apologize," Dorian said into the silence. "I know, it was a bit…callous, I suppose. But remember that you were…well, you know."

"Your pet," Cullen said calmly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Dorian was fully prepared for the Commander to punch him for the insult; yet Cullen remained so serene and it made absolutely no sense at all. Cullen should snarl at the thought or take back his claim that he wanted Dorian to return, or at least stop smiling at him so fondly.

The Commander finally nodded and looked away. "All right."

Dorian's heart was still racing, but at least it felt like it was back in his chest where it belonged.

"Once that's confirmed I'll let you know. Should I wake now and come back, or should I plan to bring you here tomorrow night?"

Dorian's heart immediately tried to break out of his ribcage once more. "What? No, you can't leave, I have —." His blood ran cold. There was someone he could double check with, after all. "Wait, you don't mean — you're not going to ask —."

Cullen smirked, clearly enjoying Dorian's flustered response. "Alexius, yes."

Dorian shook his head, mouth wordlessly agape for a moment. Cullen was never supposed to know, this would ruin absolutely everything; maybe that was a touch overdramatic but it certainly didn't feel like it, not with how numb he was or how his chest felt crushed under the weight of this panic. "No, no, don't — you don't need to do that."

Cullen arched an eyebrow. "Oh? You expected me to take your word?"

"Commander, I know this might sound a tad odd, but you really can't ask Alexius," he said with a nervous laugh. "I mean, what makes you think he'd tell you the truth?"

"I think he's far more likely to than you," Cullen replied. "Why? Is there something telling about that word, amatus?" His eyes were glittering and it was more than a little distracting.

Dorian searched desperately for some excuse, some explanation, anything that might keep Cullen from seeking a second expert's opinion. "It's just, any knowledge like that, it could give some Venatori ideas. I mean, what if they think they can use it, our connection…what if…." Dorian trailed off as he met Cullen's gaze. Cullen was not hiding his glee well at all. "You already asked him," Dorian realized.

Cullen's smirk grew as he tilted his head in a nod.

Dorian shut his eyes, inwardly cursing himself as harshly as possible. This would certainly teach Dorian to show any real vulnerability, even in the privacy of a dream with someone supposedly unconscious. Cullen would use that knowledge of Dorian's weakness now, would tug his strings with the power Dorian had unwittingly handed over to him.

Dorian parted his lips, intending some lie that he had been trying to mess with Cullen or something — he truly had not thought of the words yet — when warm hands cupped his face and a mouth suddenly sealed his own.

Dorian's eyes snapped open. Cullen's own eyes were finally closed as he kissed him in a way he'd never kissed Dorian before. Instead of brutal and violent per usual, it was tender and soft. There was no hint of teeth or possessive tongue, no firm grip bruising his arms or dangerous weapon pressed against his skin.

It was so gentle, so…loving. Dorian's insides twisted horribly, his heart feeling trapped in a vise. This could not be real; it was never going to be like this, not for the two of them, Dorian had known that from the beginning. It hurt in all the wrong ways but Dorian didn't know how to stop it.

Dorian had only ever been kissed like this by one man and he had never wanted to experience it again. Even the idea of having this, of holding something real in his heart, meant he would eventually lose it. Only this time, it wasn't some underhanded assassination that would take this away.

It would be Dorian himself.

Cullen slowly pulled back, his brow knitting with concern as he thumbed away the tears that Dorian had inadvertently shed.

"Cullen, I…." Dorian's voice caught painfully in his throat.

"You don't have to say it," Cullen whispered, far more sweetly than should be allowed considering the same voice once delivered hushed death threats. "I wouldn't believe you, anyway," he added with a quiet chuckle.

Dorian slowly reached up a hand to grasp one of Cullen's, pulling it away from his face but not letting him go. Dorian was trembling, which would usually mortify him but just now he couldn't feel such. He was too…sad.

The realization that maybe if he hadn't been so much Magister Pavus and instead let himself be Dorian, they could have had this after all…it was too much. This perfect moment could never be more than a dream, not with what Dorian was going to do.

"Cullen, this is important. I…I am coming back to Skyhold."

Cullen beamed at that, his eyes bright as a thumb continued to caress Dorian's cheek. This might have been the first time Dorian had ever seen the Commander truly happy and it was like a dagger to the heart.

"And people are going to die."

Cullen's joy faded, but instead of suspicion or anger, he merely looked confused. "What are you talking about?"

Dorian suddenly had no idea now how to explain what was going to happen. If he did tell Cullen what he had intended, it would put Cullen in more danger while providing Dorian additional protection. If he didn't then he would certainly lose Cullen anyway, and what good would his vengeance be then?

Dorian looked away, unable to handle the adoration shining in the ex-templar's eyes. He still had an option, a choice. He had not expected for his goals to clash like this — he had assumed they would go hand in hand, but he had to make a choice between his own future and the man who had just all but admitted he loved Dorian in return.

Fuck he wished Cullen hadn't kissed him like that.

Dorian swallowed down his own self-loathing before looking back at the Commander. "I swear to you, all alternatives are worse."

The man's gaze finally darkened, a more familiar glimmer of wariness in his eyes as he searched Dorian's face for the truth. "Alternatives to what?"

Instead of answering, Dorian pulled him close for another kiss, indulging just this once, knowing full well it would never be like this again. The Commander did not reject it despite his understandable misgivings, kissing Dorian once more like he actually loved him.

That kiss had been a terrible mistake, the warmth in his chest quashing every selfish motivation as Dorian pulled back, panting against his Commander's mouth as he abruptly changed his mind. He should know better than this. He should never have let himself fall in love with this insane templar, never handed over this power.

It was a little too late for that, though, wasn't it?

"Cullen, I —."

Dorian was viciously dragged away from the lake. He shivered violently, the cold having settled in deeply as he slept. Something was in his mouth, his jaw aching as he tried unsuccessfully to push whatever it was out. Blinking with confusion, he struggled to focus on the dark shape looming over him.

"I am sorry, my old friend," Erimond said pleasantly. "But if anyone is taking the Inquisition, it's me."

Dorian tried to call on his magic and found it entirely unavailable. Apprehension tightened his chest as he tried to reach to his neck, but found that his hands were tightly cuffed. He swallowed with difficulty, the effort revealing the collar about his throat.

The last time he'd woken up like this, chained with his magic suppressed…bile tried to crawl its way up from his gut, and Dorian desperately forced it back down. What with the gag in his mouth, there was nowhere for it to go. He had to keep his wits, even as every sense screamed with panic.

"I'll do my best to keep you alive," Livius assured him. "But you'll forgive if my ambitions are more important to me than yours." He grinned, teeth glinting in the darkness. "I'm sure you understand."

Dorian could do nothing but glare.