Cullen's back slammed into the ground with enough force to empty his lungs as he struggled against the flame-wreathed figure above him. With a kick fueled by galvanized desperation, Cullen lashed out, pushing the rage demon back and rolling away. By the time he'd completed the roll, the demon had vanished. Just like always.

Nightmare. It's just a nightmare, he reminded himself sternly as he lay on his back and closed his eyes, desperately trying to pull himself from the Fade. It's why he'd turned to alcohol in the last few days to help him fall asleep, once the reality of Mailani's death had finally sunk in. Drink made the dreams duller, more distant.

But I didn't drink myself into a stupor this time, did I? No, it had been grief which pulled him down, and now all of his demons were trying to return home.

The ground beneath him shifted, changing into a bed - his bed, he suspected, though he did not open his eyes - and a hand slipped over his waist as a familiar sensation nuzzled his cheek. "Bad dreams again?" a voice asked softly.

Maker, no. No, not this again. "Go away," he gritted between clenched teeth. "You've tried this before, and I won't fall for it." Again.

A hand reached up to stroke his hair in that peculiarly gentle fashion that sang of Mailani to him. "Do you really want me to leave? At least you can pretend for a while."

"Go away!" Cullen made as if to strike at the desire demon, and ended up falling to the ground as the bed disappeared, leaving him surrounded by nothing but the slowly shifting grey and green landscape of the Fade and the lingering laughter of the demon.

Groaning, he pulled himself into a sitting position and buried his head in his hands. All he needed was a moment, a calm moment, to leave the nightmare and force himself awake, as he had countless times since Kirkwall.

"What do you think? White or red?"

"Oh, I don't know, Inquisitor. Don't you think pink would suit me rather well? My eyes do make certain colors pop so incredibly well."

A light, familiar laugh. "Pink it is, then."

"So long as it isn't that Maker-be-damned plaideweave."

Cullen frowned as he looked up at the sound of the two voices. That was… different. Struggling to his feet, he found himself on the ramparts of Skyhold, looking at the backs of two people leaning against the stones to take in the view. He recognized the one on the right immediately, would have known that slight form and constantly tousled hair anywhere.

Mailani.

"Flowers don't come in plaideweave, Dorian," the elf told the man beside her in an overly-serious voice.

"Oh, thank the Maker, or whichever gods to whom you sing your praises," Dorian breathed in a suitably dramatic fashion. "I'm not sure my delicate sensibilities could handle that."

"I only made that mistake once," Mailani protested, then reached up to try to straighten her hair. It never worked - her hair was permanently mussed. "I'm not sure how we'll get flowers to Skyhold," the elf added as she looked at the mage with that achingly familiar smile on her face. "We're a bit far away from flower dotted meadows now."

Dorian turned to face her, his mustache twitching with amusement. "Oh, come, my dear. Don't give up hope. Why, if you can grow that troll snot in the garden here, I'm sure we can arrange for a few flowers. Enough for at least two head wreaths, at any rate."

Cullen's brow wrinkled as he realized that this was no demon, no manipulation. It was Dorian, standing there on the ramparts with someone who… well… No, no, don't think about it . Cullen looked around, taking in the fact that the ramparts weren't connected to anything, and that the sky was as strange and hard to look at as it always was in the Fade. But Dorian was real.

And then it hit him: this was a dream. It just wasn't Cullen's dream.

"Ghoul's beard, not troll snot!" Mailani insisted, though she was obviously trying not to laugh. "It has many medicinal purposes and can be made into a tincture for-"

Dorian waved a hand. "Yes, yes, you've told me all of that before. It still looks like troll snot."

Cullen couldn't help but stare as he realized he'd actually never seen the two of them banter like this. A tiny part of him was even starting to feel a little bit jealous, especially when Mailani clapped both of her hands over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

The jealousy faded, however, when Dorian opened his mouth again. "So Cullen's the one, hmm?" the mage asked, nudging Mailani with his elbow.

Mailani blushed, but didn't look away. "Yes. Yes, I think so."

"He's handsome enough, I suppose - if you like the type," Dorian mused, "but is that enough to make up for all that sass of his?"

Mailani laughed, that crystal clear laugh of hers which always sent shivers up Cullen's spine. "Oh, you're terrible! There's a lot more to him than sass!"

Dorian smirked as he scrutinized Mailani, eyes twinkling with mirth. "Oh, he must be a fantastic kisser, then, to get that expression on your face."

"Dorian!" Mailani and Cullen said together, but neither Mailani nor Dorian seemed to hear Cullen.

Ignoring her protest, Dorian continued, "A shem, Mailani! Oh, the shame! Why, you with a shem for a boyfriend would be like me having a… a…"

"A Dalish elf for a best friend?" she countered.

Dorian's face softened. "Yes. Precisely. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if our ancestors were all rolling over in their mutual graves. Or they would be, if mine weren't little piles of ash and yours weren't… wait, how do the Dalish tend to their dead?"

Mailani waggled her finger at him. "Oh, no, you're not distracting me this time. I want to know what you really think, Dorian. And… well, you know, if you have any advice on how to handle it properly..." Her voice trailed away as she looked up at him with an entreating look on her face.

Dorian faced her fully, mien more serious. "Well, you're the Inquisitor and he's the Commander. People will talk, though not nearly as much as if it were, for example, you and me. Evil Tevinter magister trumps everything in the South, as far as I can tell. So with him, the main concern will be controlling the gossip, since you won't be able to avoid it. Be careful to avoid too many lingering looks and starry-eyed glances, but at the same time ensure that there is enough affection between you in public that they don't think you're hiding something or, worse, lying about something. Don't change anything about his office, or his work duties, particularly in the beginning when you want to diminish rumors of favoritism, but don't make it look like he's a secret no one should know about, either. Private, but not a shame - that should be your guiding line on how to handle the court's speculation."

Mailani nodded slowly as Cullen raised his eyebrows, reluctantly impressed by the advice. He doubted Josephine could have added anything to it. "It's so different back home," Mailani sighed. "There, I would just make a wreath and put it on his head, and he'd do the same for me, and everyone would know where we stood. It's so complicated here."

Dorian patted her hand sympathetically. "Well, we shems are a bit misguided, aren't we? Certainly I am."

She gave him a wan smile. "You got better."

"Because of you," he reminded her, then reached out and lifted her chin so their eyes could meet. "He's a good man, though I suspect you don't need me to tell you that."

Mailani blushed and shook her head. "No," she said softly.

Dorain suddenly grinned. "Then I suppose I also don't need to tell you that if he ever hurts you, I'll freeze his sausage and nuggins until they fall clean off."

"Dorian!" came the unacknowledged chorus again, and Mailani giggled. "That's terrible!"

"Yes, well, men can be primal creatures," Dorian pointed out airily as he tapped the end of Mailani's nose with his finger. "Sometimes a threat is the only way to get our attention."

Mailani laughed before turning to look out at the mountains around Skyhold. "I'll let you tell him that, then."

"Oh, fine, it's all on me, then," Dorian grumbled as he mimicked her posture, gaze sweeping over the landscape. After a moment, the mage glanced at Mailani once more. "I know this is a dream," he said quietly, a depth of sadness in his voice which Cullen had never heard before. "I wouldn't be much of a mage if I couldn't tell the Fade from reality, but it's been good to see you again, even if you're just a… a memory."

Mailani looked at him, and Cullen's heart ached at the sight of the sorrow on her face. He watched as she reached out to touch Dorian's clasped hands. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

And then something pushed Cullen, sending him stumbling backwards and off the ramparts.

Cullen's eyes flew open, and he jerked himself up onto his elbows as he looked around the tower. The stars twinkled above, indicating he hadn't quite managed to sleep through the night, but nothing seemed out of place or felt like the Fade, nightmare or otherwise.

Taking a deep breath, he let himself fall back into the blankets, pondering what, precisely, he had witnessed and trying to make sense of it. The longer he thought about it, the less he could recall of the details, yet the impact of what he'd seen continued to resonate deep within. When the sky above slowly began to lighten, he sighed and forced himself out of bed. He had work to do.

With any luck, maybe this time he could work hard enough to actually forget.