She had heard before that life rarely matched dreams and that person was correct. Life had laughed at her dreams and decided that she would get nothing. Though many would argue about her perceptions of nothingness—after all, she had her life and Corypheus was dead—but there were reminders everywhere that though she had won, she had ultimately lost. All she had received from this was pain, death, and no—the mark flared, as if reminding her of its existence. Of course...It was once a useful tool, a reminder of defiance against those that threatened the world. But now...now, it was a reminder of her past and the source of current agony. Once the pain had been enough to make her grimace but now instead of gentle waves crescendoing, it was like the waters of Storm Coast, constantly crashing, violent and debilitating.
The mark remained and it was growing stronger and more unstable. It's frequency to flare up had increased to the point where she could hardly rest beyond a few moments. Even during the fighting, she had not known exhaustion to this level. Luckily, it hasn't flared in the presence of anyone else but she didn't think she would be able to hide it much longer. Looking at the eerie green glow, she knew she would have another attack soon. It was too long since her last one.
This constant awareness plus lack of sleep had put a strain on her and her relationships, especially with Cullen—he didn't know the source of her exhaustion. Bless the Gods, he was trying to be helpful but it was infuriating. Careful hands, thoughtful words, most would be thrilled to be treated as Cullen was treating her. But to her, it was patronizing. Even though she knew, really knew, that he was genuinely being helpful and not pitying her, she couldn't control her thoughts nor her anger. She had fought through everything life had thrown at her, survived, she wasn't a delicate flower that withered at slight resistance. Every time the harsh words were at the tip of her tongue, she looked at his eager, loving face and her anger dissipated, only to swell once alone.
A slight groan turned her attention to the subject of her thoughts. Despite the initial difficulty of his lyrium withdrawal, Cullen had made an amazing recovery. The temptation would always remain he said but now it didn't consume his every thought or dreams. Gentle snores told her that his sleep was easy tonight, unlike hers. Sparks flared and she grasped her hand tightly, nails harshly digging into her wrists. The pain from her nails did little to quell the pain but it distracted her enough. Eventually the mark settled down and she released her hand. Blood beaded from crescent shaped wounds and she wiped it on her leather clad thigh.
Skyhold was silent, as it has been since she had excused half of her army. Those with families, those that wanted to return home, or those just weary of fighting, she had dismissed them with enough gold to thank them for their service. Between that and all the nobles leaving, Skyhold was usually quite silent. Perhaps the largest contribution to the silence was the loss of her companions. Most had stayed after Corypheus's defeat but eventually they had returned to their own lives. And with them gone, Skyhold had lost its brightness and life. Initially she had welcomed the silence but now, the emptiness had pervaded every stone and made the fortress seem larger than it already was. One positive was that she could stroll the grounds at night without being intercepted or bombarded. Grabbing her daggers, she kissed Cullen on the forehead before leaving her room.
In the hall, her door echoed loudly as she shut it behind her. Along with her boots clicking on the floor, this was the noisiest Skyhold has been in a while. Without the decorations, the grey stone seemed much colder and uninviting.
While most decorations, flags, and accessories had been taken down/given away, one thing she had requested to stay was the sparring ring. The training dummies sat in the middle, silent in their greeting. Between all the political fanfare, galas, diplomatic missions, she had been neglectful in training. A life without Corypheus has made me careless. Though she could hear Cullen or even Josephine tell her that a life without Corypheus meant she wouldn't have to keep up with her brutal training.
The Way of the Assassins wasn't a skill she could ever forget despite others urging her to do so now that the war was over. The handles of her blades felt familiar and she could feel its intent behind it. After all, as her master had taught her, the weapon is an extension of herself, for she is one with the blade. Those few weeks of training under Heir were brutal. She was not a kind teacher but then again, if she was, she doubted she would've been an effective instructor. The Inquisitor had many scars from the war but the largest ones were from her instructor. The one spanning from her abdomen to her lower back taught her to never celebrate victories early. She may have forgotten the origin of her other scars but never the ones from her master.
After warming up her muscles, she began with her beginner stances. Legs apart, knees bent slightly, she concentrated on practiced movements her muscles remembered. Honestly, the motions came easily and soon she began to practice her specialized moves. Besides Twin Fangs, her other favorite move was Hidden Blades. Springing back, she concentrated and flung the knife, a dull thunk letting her know she hit her target. She watched as her shadows made quick work of the target before it fell apart, ruined. She huffed as exhaustion made her breathe harder, her body ache, and sweat bead all over herself. Hoping to work herself till exhaustion, she attacked the other dummies. Lashing out, her left blade slashed across the neck before the right blade came in the opposite direction. Using Deathblow, she struck the chest quickly with her left, followed by the right blade. Turning to her last training dummy, she imagines a faceless enemy. The enemy slashed at her but she ducked, watching as he swung his left arm and sword toward her. She blocked a blow with her right forearm, her left fist connecting with her opponent's stomach before her legs swept them off their feet. Quickly pouncing, she plunged both blades into her opponent's chest. Sufficiently drained of stamina, she let her head fall against the scratchy stuffing blooming from the dummy's chest, her knives stuck in deep. Sweat dripped off her and she pushed away her clinging hair from her face. Her muscles everywhere burned and she was thoroughly tired. Maybe now I can sleep.
Her eyelids drooped and she positioned herself so that she was laying flat on the ground, using the remnants of the dummy as her pillow. Josephine would scold her if she slept outside on the ground—she could hear her admonishing tone already, You are the Inquisitor, what will the nobles think!—but lack of sleep had made her not care what those stuffy, condescending nobles thought of her. With the silence surrounding her, she knew sleep was coming fast.
The mark flared, snapping her out of her hazy sleep.
"Fuck!" she cried, grasping her hand. The area glowed green as arcs of green lightning spewed forth from her hand. The pain though...the pain was excruciating. Thousand of needles stabbed at her hand, the sensation radiating up her arm. An intense burning type of pain focused on her palm, making her look down to see if it was on fire. Dizziness overtook her as the pain increased in strength, making her nauseous. Mana ma halani Mythal... time stretched on with no decrease in intensity nor sign of it stopping. Besides the pain, her anger and frustration began to rise. Grabbing a dagger, she yelled as she slammed it into her palm, right into the mark. A scream tore from her lips as her flesh gave way to the dagger. Tears sprung forth as she clutched her hand, blood spilling forth freely from the wound. The Mark had settled down, the green glow fading to reveal the aftermath. The pain had died down, the burning and stinging now localized to where her flesh was pierced. A sob tore from her throat as she looked at her self-inflicted wound.
"Inquisitor!"
"El!"
Strong arms wrapped around her—Cullen—as others rushed to her aid.
"Were you attacked?"
"Send the healer!"
"What happened?"
Yells were happening all around and El found herself being lifted into Cullen's arms. A healer appeared and took her injured hand gently.
Leliana appeared with a puff of smoke. "Inquisitor, I need to know if you were attacked." Despite her calm voice, she could see Leliana's eyes surveying everything.
El shook her head, before saying it was an accident. Those sharp eyes gazed at her wound but said nothing else before disappearing. Cullen dismissed the others besides the healer, but El could hear their confusion and disbelief. Even to her, her excuse sounded weak.
"An accident? When has the Inquisitor ever made a mistake like this?"
"Do you think she's lying?"
"Shh, not here."
Though try as she might, she could hear every disbelieving thought uttered and she tried not letting it affect her, but it was hard. She had fought to change people's perceptions about elves, to be inspiring as The Hero of Ferelden and for a while, she had achieved that goal but now she could see those things slipping away. Lack of sleep and being injured had weakened her beyond the physical aspect, weariness seeped into every part of her body. Even after beating Corypheus, saving the world, one event has brought doubt upon her. It was discouraging. She asked Cullen to take her to the infirmary, away from prying eyes and before she ruined herself even more so than she already has.
He did as she asked, his hold gentle and steps light as to not jostle her too much. She was thankful for that as each shake sent jolts of pain radiating from her hand. Blood dribbled down her arm and she grimaced at the amount she was dripping all over the place. When finally inside the infirmary, Cullen eased her onto a cot but didn't release her, instead he grabbed her free non-injured hand.
The healer, Kya, knelt before her and inspected the wound without touching it. Gently, she lifted her palm to inspect the underside of the wound, the dagger protruding about a few inches. El watched as blood rivulets streamed down the forged metal, her blood a stark contrast from the dragon bone used to craft the blade. The pain had faded to a dull thud but it was much more manageable than when the anchor was flaring. The fact that the anchor had all but stopped any sort of activity had surprised and worried her. She didn't understand what was going on.
"Inquisitor?" Kya's melodious voice interrupted her musings. Focusing back to her healer, she could see worry behind her eyes. "I will need to remove this before administering the healing potion and then I will heal the rest. I pull the dagger at the count to five."
Nodding in affirmation, she clutched Cullen's hand tightly as Kya began to count while grasping the dagger's grip firmly. At three, Kya had pulled out, eliciting a scream of shock and pain from her. A potion was thrust quickly into her hand and she quickly chugged the healing potion. The bitter medicine made her gag but she kept it down. She could feel its effects happening as the pain dissipated and was replaced with that odd sensation of her flesh mending radiated from her hand. The sensation of mending flesh was always odd, it wasn't painful but it wasn't without discomfort. Kya examined the newly mended flesh, humming in approval. Before releasing her hand, she waved her staff over her hand, the orb resting on the perch glowing slightly. Seemingly satisfied, Kya gave a slight nod before allowing her to withdraw her hand.
She gave Kya a sincere smile. "Thank you Kya, for your timely help."
Cullen cleared his throat and offered thanks as well as Kya bowed while she was exiting. "Perhaps now you'd like to speak of what really happened," he questioned, eyes full of worry.
At his words, her irritation rose but she ignored those feelings and plastered on a practiced smile. "It was like I had said, an accident."
At her placating answer and tone, Cullen rose to his feet, irritated. "Don't lie to me El! I'm not one of your recruits, you don't need to pretend!"
His words had affected her and she hated how transparent she was to him. It made her feel vulnerable. In fact, it had made her feel like how she was with Solas. The mage had a presence to him that always made her feel exposed and with how that relationship had ended...she didn't want the same thing to happen. Just thinking about Solas made her chest ache and she could feel the tears welling in her eyes, threatening to reveal all of her secrets. Cullen is NOT Solas! That mantra repeated within her mind but even she could hear the hesitancy within her words.
While she was usually open with Cullen, thinking of Solas had made her suddenly apprehensive about sharing so much of herself again. The wound that she long thought closed had reopened some ugly scars that haven't healed properly. And try as she might, she couldn't stop herself from protecting her heart.
Instead of explaining, she turned to anger because anger was easy. "I know that Cullen! There is nothing to say because I fell and this was the result of my carelessness!"
The disapproving look he tossed at her nearly broke her resolve. "You want me to believe that you fell onto your dagger?" His disbelief was clearly evident in his voice.
All it did was stoke her anger until her chest and face burned. She rose to her feet, anger drowning out logic, and she got into his space. Despite towering over her, she let her anger and pain give her confidence, however misplaced it was. "We're done," she hissed before activating Stealth. She faded into the shadows, and Cullen punched the wall, frustration clearly marked all over his face.
El slipped through the opened window, sticking to the shadows. Not wanting to return to the room she shared with her lover, she debated about leaving Skyhold to regain control of...everything. She could already feel the anger's effects fading, leaving her with rising guilt. It's all too much.
But she didn't leave because she knew it was dangerous for her to roam by herself, especially now she was quite famous. Before she had anonymity, she was just another 'knife ear', indiscernible from the thousand of other elves. Now that she was parading around the other kingdoms—at the behest of others—she could hardly go anywhere without being recognized. It was...different and potentially dangerous as Leliana had informed her. There were many out there that hated the Inquisition and thought of her as someone dangerous. There were others with families killed by the fighting and most likely blamed her. And not to forget that many still believed that she had murdered Justinia despite numerous testimonies proclaiming her innocence.
No, wandering outside of the castle walls by herself was not something she could do. Despite her anger and desire to escape, her self preservation was still intact. Instead, she headed down to the dungeon. Though it could've housed many, most enemies that were captured were either recruited, exiled, or executed. These days, it was just another empty room. With a bed at least.
She appeared from the shadows, pulling open the bars and the metal groaning loudly, before she collapsed onto the cot. Surprisingly comfortable, she prayed for some rest. Between training, injuring herself, and her fight with Cullen, she was drained and felt she could sleep for days. Trying to keep from thinking about all that was going wrong, she counted the bricks on the walls. The dull task was doing its job and she could feel herself succumbing to sleep. Her last conscious thought was that she hoped tomorrow would be a better day.
Footsteps woke her from deep sleep and contemplated for a moment before closing her eyes again. Sleep was on the edge again. Gentle hands shook her arm lightly and she could barely hold back her groan of disappointment.
"Inquisitor," a male voice whispered.
Eyes snapped open as her brain processed that this voice was unfamiliar. Jumping to her feet, she startles the young elf, nearly making him drop the cup he's clutching.
"Who are you?" She questioned, hoping to sound more authoritative than frightened. She kept the quiver out of her voice, mostly.
The elf in turn backed up, bowing his head and proffering the cup up to her. "Forgive me Inquisitor, I didn't mean to startle you. Healer Kya sent me to deliver you this medicine. She said it was to be taken to prevent infection."
Hearing his explanation, she relaxed a bit before giving him an apology and offered him a smile. Taking the cup, she regarded the red liquid before drinking it. Unlike the healing potion, this one wasn't bitter and was slightly sweet. She handed back the empty cup and the boy bowed again before leaving.
A loud yawn overtook her and she settled back into her cot before sleep overtook her again.
El gasped as she woke. Heart hammering in her chest, her body was covered in sweat despite it being cool down here.
Nightmares were a common occurrence but it was never this quite lifelike nor intense. She had dreamt she was in the Fade again, but this time it was her being left behind. The Nightmare demon had tortured her and before she could die, she had woken up. She could still feel its claws digging into her stomach, rending her flesh from bone. A harsh pain burst forth where he had slashed and El fell to her knees, clutching her stomach. A pathetic whine left her lips as the pain continued and for a brief moment she wondered if she was still dreaming. The pain eventually dissipated but it left her confused and frankly, scared. Her chest squeezed as her breath clawed to escape her throat and she grasped her pants, trying to quell the panic and fear rising within herself. Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream, just a dream… The chant repeated, keeping her fear allayed and her breath and heartbeat settled down to normal; once she felt herself settle, she collapsed onto the floor, spent.
What was that? This was something new and with another pang of pain, her traitorous mind missed Solas. He was usually her first stop whenever she had a question or wanted knowledge. Between his soothing voice and brilliant mind, she often found herself in his rotunda often, usually to listen whilst he read or if he was painting, she would read quietly on the couch. The loss of that plus the end of their relationship had hurt her deeply. The abrupt nature of their breakup had cast doubt over everything she had ever done. Was it something she said/did? Was it because she had removed her vallaslin? Millions of questions swarmed her and caused her to reflect on every action she had taken. It made her question herself and her ideals. To say she was broken would be an understatement, she was left shattered. She picked up the pieces one by one and put herself back together. Carefully, she did it but as anyone knew, once something is broken, it can never be fully mended to its original shape. It had made her a much more cautious and wary person.
Until Cullen showed her differently. And she was pushing him away, like Solas had done to her. A groan left her lips as she remembered her actions and words. Why is this so hard for me? Cullen was easy to love. Even before starting a relationship with him, just talking and flirting with him...she had seen why many women fawned over him. Dashing, handsome, brave, his good qualities were endless but the best part was that his heart was good. Like many others, he had done wrong in his past but he, unlike many others, had learned from his actions, from his mistakes even readily admitted it to her. It was...inspiring and made her admire him even more. That admiration didn't fade even when she was with Solas. And I am screwing this up.
Now a little calmer, she noticed the residual pain in her stomach, exactly where the Nightmare Demon had dug his claws into her. The pain is not sharp pain like the one from her Anchor, more muted but still noticeable. While she would've ignored such a pain, with her previous attack, it had her worried. However, before she could see the healer, she knew she had to see Cullen. At the very least to apologize. She cringed, embarrassed as she remembered again her last words to him.
The sky was dark when she entered the hall, it was eerily quiet and devoid of people. How long was I sleeping? Her room and his were empty. It was then that she noticed that all of Skyhold was silent. No animals, no patrols walking and talking, nothing but silence filled her ears. The bubbling panic that was simmering, roared with each empty room she found as she desperately searched for someone, anyone. Where is everyone!
In her panicked search, she ended up somewhere she had avoided these past few months. The rotunda. It made sense, her panicked mind sent her to someplace that offered her comfort. Despite her initial panic, she found her mind and body relaxing as she gazed upon the murals. Though it wasn't as elaborate or ornate as ones she had seen in Winter Palace, each piece was brilliant. The detail in each painting was meticulous and she would always look at them in equal parts of wonder and envy. Having no talent for anything considered artistic, she marveled how someone could take a concept, idea, or anything and create it by using his or her hands. Which is the reason why she had found herself in Solas's company many times. At first, he was hesitant to let her watch and even she admitted, it was prying and intimate. However, he accepted, once she promised to be silent. And despite everything that had happened between them, she was glad to have been able to witness his process. Seeing him engrossed in his work, how graceful his movements were, even seeing him mess up was revealing to her. This was where she had learned more about him than every conversation she had with him.
"Inquisitor…"
Oh no…
Like a ghost that's haunting her, it wasn't enough that he had invaded her thoughts but now he was here, so close to her. Though he was behind her, she made no effort to turn around. Instead she ignored him, willing for it to be her imagination, even though she just knew he was there. She also ignored the rush of pleasure she got just from hearing him. This is not happening...not now...Between her distress, her pain, and her rekindled feelings, she knew she couldn't do this now. Rushing forth, she opened the door that led to the outer walkway that led to Cullen's office/bedroom. She ignored his surprised gasp or shock or whatever noise he made and ran blindly. I just need to make it outside of Skyhold! Leaping over the stone walkway right outside the door, her stomach flopped as fell to the ground. Before her feet touched the grass, she slowed down, much to her confusion. Solas rematerialized before her, staff in one hand and the other hand guiding her to the ground. He looked...handsome, as always, which made her chest ache. Gone were his simple robes, replaced by thick furs that made him look regal.
"Solas…" She hated how her voice trembled.
He replied with a kind smile. One she had seen many times when they were alone. "Eliana."
The timbre in his voice made her shiver. A memory of how he whispered her name while taking her filled her mind. With her face red, she turned away from him. "Why are you here Solas?"
A chuckle escaped him. "Much like that first time you invaded my dreams, it seems you have done it again." His smile faded. "And I could hear you calling out."
"What do you mean calling out?"
"I sensed you were in pain, pleading for help."
Her eyes closed at his admission. It must've been when she had stabbed herself. "But why did you come?" How was this night different from the other nights she had cried herself to sleep, desperate for him to come back and give her answers. To know that he could have reached out this entire time but didn't...it hurt. She bit her lip to keep from lashing out, knowing that it wouldn't matter even though she would feel so much better.
Coming into her periphery, she could see his worried gaze. "It's the anchor." It wasn't a question. How he knew baffled her. His calloused hands gently grasped her left hand, before he closed his eyes. Though she had no magical talent, she could sense the energy in the air. "It's getting worse."
"It hurts all the time," she confessed. Relief flooded through her as the words tumbled out of her mouth. It was cathartic to tell someone. There was a small niggling part in her brain that informed her that she didn't even tell Cullen yet. Ignoring that voice, she looked at Solas. "What's happening to me?"
A heavy sigh escaped his lips and he looked much older and tired. "I do not know. I was worried something like this might happen and have been looking for a solution."
"But you haven't found anything," she finished.
A shake of his head confirmed her question. "Time, such a fickle mistress. No one has escaped her clutches even me." He ended with a deep sigh. "However, I believe that I can temporarily help, if you'd allow me."
She nodded and tried to still her rapid beating heart as he stepped closer to her. His scent, one that reminded her of the forest, invaded her senses and she suppressed herself from sighing. It reminded her of home, of her clan, which brought on a whole new fresh wave of pain. Reports from Leliana had revealed that it was Duke Antoine of Wycome that had ordered the attack that had wiped out her clan. Though Leliana had offered to do something, she had declined at the time—it was before the fight with Corypheus—and she always wondered if she had made the right decision. The pain of losing them had never faded nor had her anger.
Sensing a change in her, he stepped back. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"
Shaking her head angrily, she wiped away a few errant tears that managed to appear. "Just thinking about the past. How it's supposed to teach us lessons but I must be a fool if I don't see a lesson from death and annihilation."
Rough calloused fingers wiped away those that her fingers missed. "You are strong da'len. You have fought through more than anyone else and have emerged victorious."
Her eyes met his, her hard stare and his sharp yet soft gaze. "Did I? I lost everything."
HIs hands slipped away at her words. "You have found someone that loves you…"
"Like you couldn't," she finished coolly. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them before she let out an irritated sigh. "Fenedhis lasa! Statues are less stubborn and would offer more information!"
That made him chuckle, a sound she still enjoyed hearing. "You'll hear no argument from me. But it looks like our time is coming to an end."
She looked around in confusion. How does he know that?
"Let me help you at least before I leave. One of many apologies and favors I owe to you." He invaded her space again and she watched as he waved his staff over her, only to pause on her stomach. He frowned before slipping back to a neutral face.
"What is it?"
"I...do not know da'len. There is something wrong." His unsurety was alarming and she felt herself starting to panic.
"What's wrong?"
"Eliana...I thi-"
Her eyes snapped open as the first wave of nausea hit her. Rolling over, she spewed her food onto the stone floor. She could barely cringe as the vomit splashed back onto her face and she coughed as half digested food scratched her throat. The cramping didn't ease up and she could feel the nausea rising. Trying to keep it down, she pulled herself to her feet. Only to have the room spin. Crashing into the wall, she moaned pitifully as her stomach cramped again. She gripped the edges of her cot and helped herself to the floor. Feeling the bile rise again, she heaved the rest of her stomach contents onto the floor and on herself. And she kept heaving though there was nothing left in her stomach. The cramps didn't cease but increased in intensity, making tears stream down her face.
Curling into a fetal position, she sobbed as wave after wave of roiling pain stabbed at her abdomen. When the pain didn't recede, she knew she needed help. Gritting her teeth, she wiped her tears away and struggled to her feet. she braced herself on the wall, glad that at least the vertigo was gone.
Each step she took was agony and gasped as a fresh bout of pain crashed over her. Every move made her stomach scream in pain and she wanted to pass out. She punched the wall in frustration and swore as she broke something. The pain from her hand throbbed and took some of her focus away from her other pain. Making it to the stairwell, she gazed up the steps. It stretched on, the door seeming impossibly far.
Debating whether to lie down and hope someone finds her or to continue, she felt something leak out of her. Oh shit.
Touching at the delta between her legs, her fingertips came back tinged with blood. Solas's words came back and she wondered if this was what he had meant. Another bout of pain made her clench her teeth.
Knowing that she needed to see the healer immediately, she began the climb up the stairs. Lifting her legs with each step, she focused on counting rather than the immediate stabs penetrating her stomach. Sweat dripped down her face and she could feel herself growing weaker. Hurrying up, she jogged up the remaining stairs, nearly passing out from the pain. Pressing her head against the door, the coolness a relief against her burning face, she tried to catch her breath. She prayed to the Creators for strength.
Opening the door, she was relieved to hear voices. She called out to them, her voice weak and trembling. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she heard them coming closer. Knowing help was coming, she allowed herself to fall to the floor. The fight had left her and she could see the edges of her vision darkening. The pain became an afterthought as her senses dulled.
Maybe death is not so bad.
Cullen paced nervously in his room, his work all but forgotten. Their previous fight replayed in his mind and he was frustrated. He chastised himself for pushing her, especially after her ordeal but he knew, deep down, that he was right and there was something she wasn't telling him. Her deterioration was happening before his eyes and try as he might, he couldn't help her.
You cannot help those that do not seek it. His father's words echoed and he admitted that it was true. El was hurting but she didn't turn to him for help. Either she didn't trust him or she didn't want to burden him. Which was silly because her burdens were his.
Her words kept repeating in his mind—we're done. A small part of him was frightened that she was talking about their relationship. There was such finality when she said it that he was worried.
He was unsure where to go from here. This was hardly their first fight but it was the first one that they didn't resolve right away. Was he supposed to go after her? Did she need space? Or was he supposed to wait for her to approach him?
And what had happened at the training grounds really? He didn't buy that accident excuse; El was a trained assassin and she was not clumsy enough to fall onto her dagger. Why did she lie about it?
A gentle rap on his door broke him from his musings. He yelled enter and Dorian appeared. The mage had just returned from Tevinter, coinciding with Bull's return with his Chargers. Despite their different backgrounds, he found himself forming an easy relationship with the mage. Plus he knew how important Dorian was to El.
"What can I do for you Dorian?"
"Hmm, I've heard the most interesting rumor that our favorite couple has been having some trouble."
Cullen cursed silently. There were already rumors before this fight and he didn't want any more scrutiny on them, especially on El. Plastering on what he hoped to be a disinterested look, he replied, "Is that what they're saying?"
Dorian smirked at his attempt. "See, I thought, well they couldn't be talking about my dear, sweet Inquisitor and her general but it seems like the rumors are true." Dorian took a seat in his only chair, an amused look appearing on his face when Cullen sent him a withering look. "Well you certainly weren't using this chair before I came in!"
Cullen could do nothing but sigh. Dorian flashed a victorious grin. "Our relationship has been...off for a while."
"I'm assuming you tried speaking with her?"
Cullen nodded. "She insisted that she was fine. Even though it was obvious that she was anything but that."
"When did the problems start?" Dorian asked.
His hand brushed through his hair, embarrassment flooding him. Which made Dorian narrow his eyes at him.
"You don't know do you?" Dorian asked, voice split between exasperation and annoyance. "Fasta vass! It's a good thing you're handsome!"
Cullen chuckled at the insult. "With everything that happened since Corypheus's defeat, I thought it was just fatigue or weariness," he ended, his smile fading. "When I realized that it went beyond that, I tried to be more helpful but it just made her more upset."
Dorian rolled his eyes before standing. "I need a drink."
Cullen brought out the brandy, two glasses, and poured him a generous helping.
Dorian tutted at his selection. "I suppose this will do in a pinch." Dorian tossed back the liquor, face twisting into a grimace. "So that's what dragon's piss tastes like. Another glass please."
Cullen poured more into his glass then clinked his glass against Dorian's in a toast. Taking a gulp, he relished the burn the alcohol provided. He rarely drank but he did enjoy a glass every now and then. As the alcohol burned down his throat, he could feel some of his earlier stress dissipating.
Dorian sat back down, his drink in one hand. "How about you take us through your last argument?"
"It was last night. I woke up with El gone then I heard her screaming. I found her in the courtyard, her dagger pierced through her hand. At first I thought someone had attacked her but she insisted no one attacked her and she fell onto her dagger."
"That doesn't sound like her."
"That's what I said too."
Dorian sighed. "And how exactly did you approach her? I'm assuming you didn't wait for her to come to you."
The blond answered with a sheepish smile. "I kinda did it right after the healer was done."
Dorian shook his head, exasperated. "My dear General. As I stated earlier, it is a blessing that you are so handsome!" With that, Dorian tossed back the rest of his drink and motioned for him to refill his drink. He did as requested and finished his own glass. The warmth in his belly and flush he felt on his cheeks told him that the alcohol was starting to take effect. "Please continue your tale. How did this little quarrel of yours end?"
"I asked her for the truth, which she brushed off with a fake smile and answer. I yelled at her next."
Dorian groaned. "Let me ask you something General, are you a grave digger?" Cullen responded with a shake of his head. "Perhaps when everything is done, you can officially change your occupation to one because all I see is you digging your own grave over here."
Cullen let out a small chuckle before his smile faded. "It gets worse. I told her that she didn't have to lie to me and I wasn't one of her recruits that she needed to put up a front."
"So you called her a liar? Would you like me to fireball you now or later?" The mage's hand coated with flames, making him widened his eyes in disbelief. Dorian smirked at his alarmed expression, letting the fire extinguish. "Before I do that, continue your tale, I assume you continued to make things worse."
"She repeated her excuse and I kinda repeated it but with more disbelief than anything."
The mage cracked a smile. "It seems my wit is rubbing off on you! Though I doubt this was the most prudent moment to display it. Any other time and I would've been proud. Now, let's get to the conclusion."
"She said we're done and left in a puff of smoke. I haven't seen her since then." He refilled his glass and tanked that one as well.
Dorian remained silent and Cullen used that time to drink another glass. Finally, the Tevinter stood and went by the bookcase, looking over the selection and ignoring him. Finally, he spoke. "I know how important you are to El and she to you. So leave this to me, I'll speak with her."
The General sighed in relief, glad to have his cooperation. Dorian was a skilled orator and negotiator. And being outside of the relationship, he would have a clearer perspective than either him or El. "You have my thanks Dorian."
The mage just waved his words away. "Now shush, none of that. You can thank me with a bottle of wine. I do enjoy a nice red."
Cullen nodded before embracing him in a brief hug. Maybe it was the alcohol but he felt affection for the Tevinter, it reminded him of his brother Branson. It made him feel yearn for home but also happy, happy that he found meaningful friendships whilst in the Inquisition. He admitted that enjoyed seeing how flustered his sudden hug made Dorian. The normally composed mage blushed deeply as he returned a halfhearted tap on his back. Releasing him, Cullen motioned to the almost finished brandy decanter. "We should finish this."
"Oh I agree. It would be a shame to leave it in its state," Dorian chimed, lifting his empty glass up.
A loud bang resonated as the door slammed against the wall. Cullen jumped before leveling a sharp look at the intruder. "Explain yourself, soldier!"
"Ser! You're needed at the infirmary immediately! It's the Inquisitor!"
Dorian flashed an alarmed look to him before they both followed the panicked soldier.
It's 2021, just editing some mistakes as I reintegrate myself in writing