Cullen's breath puffed through his nose as he hurried to gather materials for the meeting in the war room. He was late - a rare event by anyone's measure - but this time he was exceptionally late and didn't wish to dally any more than he had to. A restless night followed by a headache had forced him to linger in bed longer than was his custom. After that, the morning had been whittled away by messengers and scouts and trying to ignore the box with the tempting blue liquid in it which he still had stashed away in a drawer of his desk, all coupled with a headache from the Void that just would not quit.

When a knock came at the door just as he reached for final batch of notes, he groaned before calling out irritably, "Come!"

The door opened to reveal Cassandra, a concerned look on her face as she entered. "Are you all right, Commander?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, Seeker," Cullen snapped, then paused and took a deep breath. "I apologize for my tardiness," he said in a calmer voice as he straightened. "I presume that's why you are here?"

"Your absence has been noticed, yes." Her eyes flickered to the food tray on his desk, and she frowned. "You have not eaten your breakfast?"

He winced and rubbed the back of his neck. "This morning proved to be very busy," he told her. "I believe I saw Jim no less than five times."

"That's no excuse to neglect yourself," Cassandra said in a severe voice.

He gave her a keen look. "I seem to remember you skipping a few meals yourself around the time of the Conclave."

Making a dismissive gesture with her hand, Cassandra gave him a stern glare. "That is entirely different and you know it." Moving to the tray, she lifted the pitcher of juice, then made a disgusted noise when she saw a piece of paper still beneath it. Retrieving it, she held it out to Cullen. "Also, it defeats the purpose of trying to send you hidden messages if you do not even find them when necessary."

His eyebrows rose as he took the paper. "Hidden messages?" Cullen repeated. When she simply nodded, he unfolded the paper and quickly read it through once, then twice. With a muttered oath, he folded it again. "Maker's breath, that's all I need on top of this headache."

Cassandra's face grew concerned again. "Is it the withdrawal again?"

"Perhaps," Cullen said, reaching up to rub his forehead. "Or perhaps it's the headache one would expect to get after a restless night, a busy morning, and a skipped breakfast."

"True," she conceded. "You do seem to be improving when it comes to the lyrium addiction."

Cullen nodded, though he couldn't quite stop the grimace from coming to his face. "In truth, sometimes it is only the memory of Inquisitor Lavellan which prevents my relapse," he admitted quietly.

Putting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, Cassandra said, "You are still performing your duties to the Inquisition, and you are still not using lyrium. That is worth a great deal, I think. I have faith in you."

"I wish I had more faith in myself," he admitted, then waved the folded note. "And I'll admit, my first reaction to learning Hawke has returned to Skyhold and will be at the meeting was a temptation to use the stuff."

A faint smile came to her face. "That is why we tried to warn you at breakfast," she told him.

"Why a note, though?" he wondered. "You could have just come and told me."

"We didn't want to do anything unusual to attract his attention," she told him. "He has been rather… odd of late."

Cullen snorted. "That's one way to put it. If he showed his interest in the Inquisitor any louder, they'd be able to hear it in Kirkwall."

Cassandra gave him an odd look, but finally nodded. "Which would not be a problem if Dorian returned the interest."

"No. It would be a worse problem if he did," Cullen said grimly. "You didn't see what Hawke did to Merrill." And Fenris, he added in the vaults of his mind, but he assumed that Varric wouldn't have told Cassandra the whole truth of that. Even Cullen only knew because he'd found Aveline deep in her cups the night after Hawke had been appointed Viscount as she debated whether to leave her post - and Hawke - behind, or stay despite a Viscount Hawke. Considering the woman never turned to alcohol to solve her problems, it had been a surprise to find her in such a state, and an even greater one when she'd launched into a lengthy, drunken confession. When Cassandra had approached him shortly thereafter to join the Inquisition, Cullen hadn't even hesitated. Aveline's words had simply solidified his alienation from the so-called Champion of Kirkwall.

"Merrill?" Cassandra blinked. "Varric only said she did not stand with Hawke at the end."

"That is definitely true." As the pounding in his head increased, he reached up and rubbed his forehead. "Perhaps it is simply best to say that I do not wish to expose the Inquisitor to certain… difficulties which Hawke represents."

Cassandra's face grew troubled. "I knew he made questionable decisions about the raider woman-"

"Questionable-" Cullen stopped his interruption and stared incredulously at Cassandra. "He handed her over to the Qunari. That's beyond questionable, that's-" Forcing himself to stop, he took a deep breath. "I suspect that Varric gave you the story he wrote in his book, Seeker," he said quietly. "There are more details that I'm sure he's never told anyone."

As a frown came to her face, Cullen suspected that he'd unwittingly given her motivation to seek Varric out and ask further questions, but for the moment he was simply grateful she didn't ask more of him. "I see. That explains why you and Varric seem so very eager to keep Hawke away from the Inquisitor."

Cullen looked up at her sharply. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to one who knows both of you well," she admitted. "And I would presume Hawke does know Varric well. To those who do not know you, it might seem that you are pursuing the Inquisitor yourself."

That comment made Cullen blink. "Pardon?"

"It is a rumor, Commander, though a faint one," Cassandra said gravely, though the way she canted her head ever so slightly indicated something else entirely. "Leliana found it quite amusing."

"She would," Cullen muttered sourly.

Now Cassandra's lips did twitch, but mercifully she moved on. "Hawke is starting to get irritated at the situation, if his mood in the war room today is any indication."

Cullen rubbed his temple again, seeking to calm the pain. "Keeping him happy isn't my concern. And as long as the Inquisitor is kept out of it, Hawke won't get angry at him , just me and Varric." A half-grin came to his face. "Just like old times in Kirkwall."

"I am sure you know better in this matter," Cassandra said with a small shrug. "I will, however, give the situation additional scrutiny when possible. It has only been a few weeks since Dorian became Inquisitor, after all. We are not strong enough to lose the Viscount's support outright."

"Which the Inquisitor and our Ambassador are keenly aware of, I'm sure." Cullen grimaced and shook his head. "Politics. You can leave me out of it."

"Except politics in this case means the difference between food and armor or nothing for your soldiers," Cassandra pointed out. "Should Kirkwall distance itself from the Inquisition, it is likely others in the Free Marches will follow. The Lord of Starkhaven, for one. He has followed Hawke's lead so far."

Nodding slowly, Cullen grunted and retrieved his notes. "And standing around talking about it won't make any of those problems go away."

"Are you sure you can endure the meeting?" Cassandra asked.

"For the Inquisition's sake, I will endure anything," Cullen said firmly. "Even my worst nightmare can't be worse than a world with Corypheus in charge."

"From your lips to the Maker's ears," Cassandra agreed quietly, then turned to lead the way from Cullen's office.

As they entered the war room, Dorian turned to greet them with a smile. "Ah, I see you found our wayward Commander, Seeker. I do hope nothing is amiss?"

"Sorry I'm late," Cullen said brusquely as he took his customary place between Leliana and Josephine.

"Oh, don't worry, Commander," Dorian said with a wink. "We all need the sun to freeze once in a while when something impossible happens."

Cullen mock-scowled at Dorian. "I've been late before. It's not that rare."

"On the contrary, Commander, I heard that you were on time for your birth," Dorian said airily. "And probably saluted the healer when you came out. That's how I imagine it, anyway."

"That's not how I-" He paused, noticing the smirks on the faces around him. "Maker, I'm not that bad, am I?"

"Of course not, Commander," Leliana assured him. "Though there are stories about Cassandra's birth."

Cassandra's eyebrows rose. "I did not salute anyone when I was born," she protested.

"Perhaps not, but I'm sure you waited no later than your first birthday to do so," Leliana told her in a teasing tone.

Though most of those around the table chuckled as Cassandra made a noise of disgust, one person simply folded his arms across his chest and frowned. "Don't we have more important matters to discuss?" Hawke asked pointedly.

"Oh, I do beg your pardon, Your Grace," Dorian said lightly, though the levity in the room faded noticeably. "I shall make certain to schedule such lighthearted matters to occur only at the appropriate time henceforth."

Hawke smiled as he looked at Dorian directly. "Maybe after the meeting we could discuss that? Over a bottle of wine perhaps?"

As Dorian hesitated, obviously not wishing to reject the not-so-subtle invitation outright, Cullen stepped in. "I'm afraid that the Inquisitor won't be available. There's something which requires his attention."

Eyes narrowing suspiciously, Hawke looked at Cullen. "I see. Well, far be it for me to get between the Inquisitor and his Commander."

After a moment of awkward silence, Alistair stepped forward and tapped his finger on the map. "The Western Approach," he said as he looked around the table. "We've been keeping an eye on Warden activities, and according to Leli's agents," he gave her a wink, "there's quite a bit of Warden activity there."

"And quite a few Venatori as well," Leliana added. "It's been building there since we've been driving them out of other areas around Thedas."

Cullen leaned onto the table, setting one of his markers in the center of the Western Approach. "There's an old Warden Keep there which would be a valuable addition to the Inquisition's resources," he noted. "Griffon Wing Keep. I'd suggest starting there so we can establish a presence in the region."

"Or," Hawke said with an edge in his voice, "we could go straight for the throat of the Wardens we've been tracking and not announce our presence in the Approach so that a blind and Blighted knife ear whore could spot it from one of the moons." He gave Cullen a brittle smile. "But then, I'm not the tactical genius that you are, Commander. I'm only a Viscount, after all."

Josephine shifted uneasily on her feet as the two men glared at each other. "I will point out," she said in her time to be diplomatic voice, "that the Inquisition has had agents in the Western Approach for some time. We simply have limited it to scouts and Leliana's agents. A small party consisting of the Inquisitor and a few select companions would, most likely, remain undetected for quite a while."

"If we strike and take the Keep first," Alistair said, nudging Cullen's marker, "and then immediately head for the last known location of the Wardens in the Approach, there won't be an opportunity to raise the alarm. We believe Corypheus is influencing the Wardens through manipulation of their taint, but we don't have proof that they're coordinating with the Venatori, do we?"

"They're both serving Corypheus," Hawke pointed out. "It would be tantamount to idiocy to assume they're not."

"Then let's split the difference," Dorian suggested, looking at the map thoughtfully. "The Commander can take Griffon Wing Keep with the help of the Inquisition Forces and Leliana's agents, while I take a covert group to deal with the Wardens directly."

"Perhaps we could add a wrinkle to the mix that the Venatori won't expect," Leliana suggested. "The Chargers would be a formidable addition to the Inquisition forces in a battle like that."

"It has possibilities, Inquisitor," Cullen mused. "If I send in Knight-Captain Rylen with a select group of Inquisition Forces and the Chargers with you, you should be able to claim the Keep very quickly. Then, while they're making noises to make it seem that you, personally, remain at the Keep, Leliana's agents could lead you to the Wardens' last known location."

"The Wardens might even take advantage of the Inquisition's supposed distraction with the Keep to finally do that ritual they've been talking about in those messages Hawke and I intercepted," Alistair mused.

Hawke's angry stance softened as a calculating expression came to his face. "Yes, we need to make sure we see what they're up to with that. Their correspondence made it sound like they were waiting for someone to arrive, someone who isn't a Grey Warden."

"And if that new ally is proven to be a Venatori, or allied with Corypheus, then we'll have sufficient evidence to go to our allies and ask for further aid against the Wardens," Josephine added.

"We don't have enough already?" Dorian asked in surprise. "Even with Warden Alistair on our side?"

"I wouldn't put too much weight on my name," Alistair said sheepishly as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I mean, yes, I was one of the Wardens who fought in the Fifth Blight, but I also abandoned the fight before it was over and went off to become a drunkard in the gutters of Kirkwall. I don't think my redemption story has circulated widely enough yet, or is… you know, exciting enough. About all you can say is that Anora graciously hasn't asked for my head."

"Don't worry, old friend," Cullen told him. "Some day the bards will sing your tale without quite so much ale being involved."

"Thanks awfully, I feel so much better now," Alistair told him sarcastically.

"That's the plan, then," Dorian said decisively as he straightened. "Cassandra, why don't you go let the Iron Bull and Varric know we'll be heading out to the Western Approach soon?"

As Cassandra nodded and moved to the door, Hawke grimaced. "The dwarf? Really?"

"That crossbow of his is positively lethal," Dorian pointed out. "But then, you already knew that, I would imagine."

Hawke's jaw rippled slightly. "As you say. I'll get ready for the journey, then. The Western Approach isn't one of my favorite areas in Thedas, after all."

"Nor is it for anyone in the Inquisition," Cullen said softly, and a hush came over the room. They all remembered quite clearly the location of Mailani's death, after all.

After a tense moment, Hawke inclined his head to Cullen. "Forgive me. I meant no disrespect to the memory of Inquisitor Lavellan. Until later, then." With a curt nod to the room in general, he turned and left the room.

Alistair puffed his cheeks full of air. "He's acting more and more like a grumpy bronto lately," he observed. "I don't suppose you know any magical unicorn sprinkles spells, do you, Inquisitor?"

Dorian laughed. "Ah, no. Though that would be a rather spectacular spell, wouldn't it?"

"It would certainly get everyone's attention," Alistair said with a grin as he stretched his arms above his head. "Almost as effective as lightning. That's how Amell used to do it. The lightning, I mean, not magical unicorn sprinkles. Effective, mind, but Morrigan didn't speak to him for weeks after he zapped her hair straight out from her head. She had a lot of hair."

Leliana laughed, though the sound was cut short as she quickly closed her mouth. "I'd forgotten about that. She even refused to make potions for him. It's the only time he ever apologized for anything."

"Ser High and Mighty apologize? Not him," Alistair said with a snort, glancing at the door for a moment. "Reminds me of someone else I could mention..."

"Oh, hush, Alistair." Leliana gathered up some papers and headed towards the door. "Come with me. I want you to brief some of my agents about what to expect when tracking Wardens."

"Right," Alistair said as he followed after her. "We can be a tricky bunch, we Wardens."

When the door had closed behind them, Cullen tilted his head for a moment, then glanced at Josephine. "Do you think-?"

"They did travel together during the Blight," Josephine noted with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. "And it was a trying time for both of them, from what she has told me."

"Is there something i should know about?" Dorian asked, one eyebrow rising.

"No, Inquisitor," Josephine said as she tucked her ledger close to her body. "Nothing at all. I will go make the necessary arrangements with the local lords on the way to the Western Approach so that Knight-Captain Rylen and yourself can proceed without running into any odious officials blocking the way. We don't want a repeat of what happened in the Emerald Graves, after all."

"You do think of everything," Dorian said with a brilliant smile. "Thank you, Lady Josephine. You are the Inquisition's greatest treasure."

Josephine smiled and curtsied to Dorian. "You are kind, Inquisitor. Now if you will excuse me." With a nod to Cullen, she exited the room, humming softly to herself.

"We truly have some remarkable people in the Inquisition, don't we?" Dorian mused. "I don't know how she manages to keep everything straight. I have enough trouble keeping track of the Magisterium. She has to do that for so many countries it makes my head spin."

"Mine, too," Cullen said with a chuckle as he collected his notes and leaned over to move a couple of markers on the table to new locations. "A good thing I'm not in her position. I've been told tact is not one of my strong suits."

"You, Commander? Not tactful? Perish the thought!" Dorian laughed as he leaned against the table. "I'm sure that using Inquisition forces to march a Halla into a village as a sign of mourning is completely the diplomatic approach."

Cullen winced as he stood, hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Admittedly, the momentary embarrassment was a good distraction from the dull pain of his headache. "I'll thank you not to remind me of that. Josephine wasn't too pleased with my suggestion, either."

"Thank me how?" Dorian teased him. "I can think of a few rather fascinating ways for that."

For a moment, Cullen stared at Dorian, then abruptly looked away, hand automatically rising to rub his forehead before he pulled it back down. Their friendship had grown stronger in the last few weeks, but Cullen preferred not to dwell on the rather fascinating ways that Dorian hinted at in his little remark. "Ah, there is something I wanted to show you," he said in a more brusque tone as he rounded the table and headed to the door. "If you'll follow me, Inquisitor."

Pushing away from the table, Dorian nodded. "Where are you taking me, Commander? It's not to another of those boring inspections, is it?"

"Your presence at those is very important for morale," Cullen responded automatically, then glared at Dorian as the man grinned at him. "What?"

Dorian chuckled and waved his hand, causing the door to the war room to open on its own. "Sometimes you are so dreadfully predictable, Commander."

Cullen raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I've asked you not to do that." Even he wasn't sure whether he referred to the magic Dorian had used to open the door, or the mage's teasing.

Grin widening, Dorian thumped his hand on Cullen's shoulder before walking past him into the hall and gesturing towards the far door with a flourish. "Oh, come now, Commander. Everyone's life could use a bit of magic in it, even a grumpy ex-Templar."

"I am not grumpy," Cullen groused, then grimaced as he realized that such a statement didn't do much to argue against the case. As Dorian's mouth opened to respond, he muttered, "And no comment from you."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Commander," Dorian said with a wink. "Now, where were you taking me, again?"

"Not an inspection, you'll be relieved to know," Cullen told him pointedly as he started to lead the way.

"In truth, I do not find those so very onerous, despite my complaints," Dorian admitted as he fell in beside Cullen. "I recall when Mailani would join you on those, and the smiles that always followed her. I may not have her gentle touch in such matters, but they seem to appreciate the gesture nevertheless. Who am I to put my creature comforts over theirs?"

Cullen gave him a sidelong glance. "I didn't realize you could see those before," he admitted.

"My little nook in the library has quite the view of Skyhold, Commander," Dorian reminded him. "Including the Courtyard. On occasion I would watch the display down there during training and such. Why, I even recall the time you removed that unsightly fur of yours to actually drill the men yourself. The scandal!"

"It is not unsi-" Cullen began, then stopped and glared at Dorian as the man's lips twitched. "Don't say that I'm predictable," he warned.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Commander," Dorian said smoothly. "I am a gentleman, after all. Even if some would argue that a Vint can never be a gentleman."

Unable to resist at least a smile at the sally, Cullen just shook his head and shoved the door to the Hall open. "Keep this up and I might take up that argument."

"I'm hurt, Commander, deeply hurt," Dorian protested, hand pressing to his chest.

Cullen rolled his eyes as he led them to the next door, one to the left and nearer the throne. "This way," he told Dorian, pushing his way into the Inquisitor's quarters.

When the footsteps didn't immediately follow, he turned to see Dorian lingering just outside the doorway. With a frown, Cullen moved back. "Are you all right?"

"I-" Dorian's eyes were a trifle wider than usual, and a line had appeared between his eyebrows as they pinched together. "I wasn't expecting you to bring us here."

"So it's true, then," Cullen said softly. "Bull was right. You never sleep here."

"Of course not," Dorian said, sounding aghast at the very notion. "Though Bull is hardly an authority on where I sleep."

Recognizing the deflection for what it was, Cullen remained on topic with a pointed reminder. "You are the Inquisitor."

"Yes, but... but these rooms aren't mine." His lips pressed together for a moment, but Cullen heard the unspoken words as clearly as if he'd spoken. They are hers.

Setting his hand on Dorian's shoulder, Cullen gave him a little smile. "This way," he said softly. "There's something I want to show you."

After another moment's hesitation, Dorian finally nodded and took a step forward. With his hand on the man's shoulder, Cullen could feel the moment when the tension left Dorian, at the same moment when his grey eyes gained more than a hint of moisture. "I suppose they've been... ah, tending to the cleaning and such? My eyes are so very susceptible to dust and such things."

"I'll try to keep in mind that you are a delicate desert bloom," Cullen noted blandly. Ignoring Dorian's answering glare, he nodded ahead. "This way."

As they walked along the wooden platform leading to the Inquisitor's quarters, Cullen had to take a few deep breaths of his own. Nothing had changed, and yet...

"It's strange, isn't it?" Dorian murmured as they moved upward. "It's the same as it ever was, but... everything has changed."

Startled to hear a mirror of his own thoughts, Cullen gave Dorian a sidelong glance. "I was thinking much the same," he admitted. "The first time I came here after... after she died, I was out of my mind with drink. The first few times, if I'm to be honest." He looked around them, focusing on trivial details like dust motes and cobwebs in hopes of keeping the words distant as he spoke. "I still remember the first time I came up here after her effects had been sent back to her clan. That was... difficult."

"I can empathize," Dorian said, a catch in his voice. Quickly clearing his throat, he added in a stronger tone, "I wonder what the reaction would be if we turned it into a shrine for the Herald of Andraste."

Cullen had to chuckle at the idea. "I don't think the Chantry would view it favorably if the Inquisition started designating sites as holy to Andraste," he pointed out. "Especially if a Vint is involved."

"True," Dorian said with a sigh. "Not even if that Vint is fabulously handsome." Though the words were light, the way he was looking around as they climbed the final set of stairs showed a tightness around his eyes which indicated anything but levity. Once they stood at the top, however, his gaze gravitated to the portrait above the fireplace. "Oh- Oh. I see."

Without another word, Dorian moved stand in front of it, his hand half-reaching towards it before he pulled it back. As Cullen moved to put his hand on Dorian's shoulder, Dorian exhaled suddenly. "It's perfect," he said in hushed tones. "It's... difficult to see, but comforting, as well."

Cullen nodded in agreement, looking at the portrait with a steady gaze. "I admit my initial reaction was a trifle wrought, but on the whole I agree. I don't know who Josephine hired to paint it, but they must have known her in real life."

"Agreed. Her eyes in particular... Mailani always had such endless patience," Dorian said, tone almost reverent. For a few moments, the men stood in silence as they contemplated the painting. After a few moments, Dorian cleared his throat and took a long, shuddering breath and reached up to wipe his eyes. "We will move this to the Hall, yes? Everyone will want to see it. Perhaps we could place it above the throne. That would be more than fitting, I would think. Oh, wait. Blast. The windows." He frowned for a moment, then suddenly smiled. "Ah, I almost forgot Dagna. I'm sure she can come up with something suitably magnificent to display Mailani without damaging the windows she loved."

Cullen again gave him a sidelong glance. "You remember that?" When he thought of Mailani and windows, it wasn't the ones in the main hall which came to mind, but the one in his bedroom in the tower. Though that was mostly because of the way she'd push him into it before pulling his trousers down to 'explore'. Best not to mention that. "I didn't think anyone else knew about that particular interest of hers."

"Oh, she was inordinately clever," Dorian commented, oblivious to Cullen's train of thought. "She let me look through her sketchbook once, and the windows were in there. The conversation turned to architecture of all sorts, and we went through the entire library looking for renditions of buildings all over Thedas. Maker, but she had such an inquisitive mind." Moisture welled up in his eyes once more, but this time they hovered above a smile. As a tear spilled out, he quickly dashed it away and offered Cullen a sheepish smile. "It's exquisite. I'll speak to Dagna straight away. The entire Inquisition will wish to see it."

"We wanted to give those who knew her best a more private viewing first," Cullen told him. "You're the last to see it." Hoping to lighten the mood a little, he nudged Dorian with an elbow. "For someone who likes to lecture me on the extreme nature of my work ethic, you're a hard man to pin down."

"Oh, I'm quite easy to pin down when I'm hard," Dorian quipped in an absent tone, most of his attention still on the painting.

Cullen blinked, ears burning a bit as he worked through what Dorian had said, particularly on the heels of the vivid memory with Mailani. "P-pardon?"

"What?" Dorian turned to look at him, giving Cullen a good view as the man's eyes widened and his ears pulled back. "I- Oh! Ah, perhaps we should just pretend I didn't say that, hmm?"

"I'm willing if you are," Cullen said quickly. After a moment, though, he laughed and nodded to Mailani's picture. "She'd never let you forget it, though."

Dorian fought it, but finally he laughed as well, his gaze warming as he looked at Cullen. "No, she wouldn't, the minx. I'd give anything for her to tease me about it endlessly now."

Settling his hand on Dorian's shoulder, Cullen squeezed gently as he nodded. "As would I." After a final glance at the portrait, he took a deep breath and then turned away. "Come on. There's a bit more that I'd like to talk about."

"Oh?" As he tore his gaze from the canvas, Dorian turned it to Cullen with an eyebrow raised in inquiry. "What about?"

"Here," Cullen said, then pushed Dorian down onto the couch and settled down across from him. "This room. What should be your room. Josephine had it prepared for you the day of the ceremony, I'm sure of it. How long ago was that, hmm?"

Dorian quickly glanced away, leaning forward so that he could focus closely on his hands. "I'm perfectly content in my current quarters," he mumbled.

"You're the Inquisitor, Dorian." Cullen sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, it took Josephine and Leliana a while to convince me given... well, everything, but there are rumors."

"You think I haven't heard them, scuttling about and echoing off the walls of Skyhold like the blasted pests they are?" Dorian asked softly. "I'm only play-acting as Inquisitor, and am just a puppet for someone else. Hawke, perhaps, or the Imperium. That's one version. Oh, and then there's the guilt of murder. I can't sleep in the same place where she once slept for fear her spirit will find me and punish me." His voice took on a sing-song quality. "The evils of my past will find me in the room of the Herald, and I will pay for what I've done." He sighed and buried his face in his hands. "And others. Those are just the strains I've heard so often I could play them on a lute."

After a moment of staring, Cullen reached out and set a sympathetic hand on Dorian's arm. "What's the real reason?"

"Aside from the nagging feeling that I don't belong?" Dorian asked. "I suppose I simply feel like I'm intruding. On her memory." He finally turned to look at Cullen. "Or yours. Of being with her."

Now it was Cullen's turn to look away. "I am ashamed to admit that I did think that once," he admitted. "Particularly in those early weeks."

"And you had darker suspicions, too, as I recall," Dorian said, though he slid his hand up to rest on top of Cullen's, keeping it where it was. "I understand. I still blamed myself back then. It's taken me a long time to finally admit there was nothing I could do, save what I did."

"Being with her at the end," Cullen said with a nod. "If I could not save her, that would be the next best thing. Making sure she didn't die alone. To a soldier, the hand of a friend is sometimes the best you can hope for in the end."

Dorian smiled at that. "Very poetic, Commander."

"Oh, I can't take credit for that," Cullen said. "Ask any soldier and they'll tell you the same thing. And you gave her that. It took me a while to accept that, but… I thank you for it." He squeezed Dorian's arm.

"And I did one more thing," Dorian said softly, opening his left hand. The green light of the Anchor flickered uneasily, then faded. "Just as important, I hope. I'm continuing her legacy. I don't know if I'm essential to bringing down Corypheus, but the Anchor is certainly necessary for other tasks."

Cullen's mouth curved in a smile. "There are many people who owe you a debt of gratitude for your actions, Anchor or no," he told Dorian. "I'd accuse you of modesty, but that is beneath you."

"Quite right," Dorian said with a nod. "A marvel of perfection such as myself does not need such mundanity as a modest disposition. You have a keen eye for detail, Commander, so I'm sure you agree."

Sitting back on the couch, Cullen pretended to study Dorian for a moment. The scrutiny took a bit longer than he originally intended, mainly because he realized he hadn't really evaluated Dorian on the basis of his looks. He knew the mage was handsome, but only when he was deliberately searching for a flaw to tease him about did Cullen realize that the man was also attractive. And that came as an obscure surprise. To cover the length of his study, he hummed for a few moments before giving a little shrug. "Oh, I don't know. Your clothing does seem to have a ridiculous number of buckles."

Dorian's eyebrows rose. "You're not one to talk about fashion, Commander, unless we're discussing the southern reaches of Thedas where the barbarians live." Tweaking a bit of fur between his fingers, he added, "Fur? Really? That is so very Towers Age, after all. I'm surprised you let yourself be seen in public wearing the thing."

With a snort, Cullen batted Dorian's hand away. "At least I can finish disrobing before my bath water cools."

"Ah, the advantage of being a mage," Dorian fired back. "My bath is always the perfect temperature."

"Fair point," Cullen conceded with a laugh. "I don't have that advantage, admittedly."

"I could help you with that," Dorian told him with a wink.

Cullen blinked a few times, then looked away. "Ah, thank you, but we needn't share a bath."

"Share a-" Dorian laughed aloud as Cullen felt his ears heat. "Forgive me, Commander. I did not expect your mind to go there. I only meant I could perform a magical feat on your behalf. A stone to keep the water warm, or perhaps an enchantment on the tub itself, if it were metal. Not sharing. We're not in a barracks, after all."

Ears now well and truly reddened, Cullen coughed. "Understood, Inquisitor."

Dorian's eyebrows drew together. "My apologies, Commander. I tease you too much, I know. I shall refrain in your presence."

Cullen immediately shook his head. "No. It's all right. In fact…" A smile came to Cullen's face. "In fact, that's something I wished to talk to you about. I've been thinking about the last few months, about the Inquisition, and… I wanted to tell you that… Well…"

"Yes, Commander? I'm positively tingling with anticipation," Dorian said.

Now that it was time to trot out his little prepared speech, Cullen found himself suddenly uncertain. What if Dorian was offended? Or hurt? What if it was too cheesy, or self-serving? Suddenly his headache returned in full force, clouding his thoughts when he needed them to be focused. Clearing his throat to buy time, he said, "I… I wanted to tell you that she would be proud of you. Mailani, I mean. You could have gone back to the Imperium, or simply chosen to do the minimum expected of you here in Skyhold. But you didn't. You've poured your heart and soul into the Inquisition, even without her here to inspire you directly." Encouraged by Dorian's widened eyes, he set his hand on Dorian's forearm and leaned in a little to give emphasis to his words. "You have been more than simply Mailani's legacy, Dorian, and more than her heir. You have truly earned the title Inquisitor, and I will offer my sword to your service in any way you see fit." With a little squeeze, he added, "I just thought someone should tell you."

Dorian's face worked through several emotions as his eyebrows rose and fell before his lips trembled into an almost shy smile. "Commander, I-I don't know what to say. Usually when men speak to me in such a fashion, it's a prelude to the use of a vastly different sword."

After a few seconds of a blank stare, Cullen's eyes widened, and he buried his head in his hand. "Maker!"

"Don't worry, Commander, I didn't misunderstand you," Dorian assured him with a tone full of earnest sincerity. "And… I thank you. Your words… I can easily say that no one has ever spoken to me in quite such a fashion. Errant moments of support, perhaps, but never wholehearted endorsement."

Aware that his face was still red, Cullen nevertheless looked up at him. "Not even your father?" He instantly knew from the expression on Dorian's face that it was the exact wrong thing to say. "I'm sorry, Inquisitor," he offered quickly. "I should have known better, after-"

Waving the comment away, Dorian smiled, though it held a brightness that spoke of its brittle nature. "No matter. I thank you for the compliment. I know such words are not easily gleaned from the Commander of the Inquisition Forces." Standing, he gave Cullen a bow. "And I'm sure that you don't need me twittering away at you all afternoon," he added in a cheerful voice.

With a wince, Cullen reached up to rub awkwardly his neck, grimacing as he found a taut tendon. "I don't mind, truly, Inquisitor."

Dorian frowned and rounded the couch to stand behind Cullen. "Is this what's causing your headaches?" he asked, then set his hands on Cullen's neck. "Maker, Commander, I could use your shoulders as an anvil! Your head must feel like Bull sat on it in all his horned glory."

Cullen groaned softly as strong fingers kneaded his neck. "I wish I could say I slept on it wrong, but-"

"But you didn't sleep, did you?" Dorian prompted, then clucked his tongue. "Commander, what have I told you about keeping impossible hours?"

"It requires impossible effort," Cullen replied sheepishly, though lack of sleep was only an element of his pain. The other part was the lack of the blue ecstasy he had spent half the night staring at in passive aggressive resistance.

"And am I wrong?" Dorian prompted as he worked over the knotted muscle.

"No." Cullen sighed, rolling his head slightly to give Dorian a better vantage. "And I did get some sleep."

"Not nearly enough," Dorian scolded him as his fingers smoothed up to work at Cullen's scalp. "Drums would envy you right now."

Cullen chuckled, but as Dorian continued to work on his tension, an eerie feeling began to settle over him. When it grew too acute to ignore, he abruptly reached up and grabbed Dorian's wrists. "Did you ever have headaches?"

"Me? The paragon of perfection? Not really, why?" Dorian leaned around to study Cullen's face. "Your headache must be worse than I thought. You've turned pale as a sheet." He nodded to the bed. "And flat is better than sitting up. Come on, up you go. I can't afford to have my Commander collapse from pained exhaustion during drills, can I?"

With a little shrug, Cullen released him. "No. No, of course not. It's just that for a moment…" He stopped and shook his head. "It's not important. If you're willing to offer help, I am more than willing to accept it. This headache has lingered far longer than most of its kind."

Again Dorian clucked his tongue, then heaved Cullen to his feet. "Go, go," he said, making a shooing notion. "And be glad I mastered the grease trap spell as a child. Oh, and remove that… thing," he added, gesturing to Cullen's mantle. "It's rather hard to give a proper massage when you're not sure if someone's poorly chosen fashion accessories will eat you or not."

Cullen laughed even as he shrugged it off and laid it on the foot of the bed. "It's not that bad," he told Dorian.

"I'll be the judge of that, thank you. The only thing you spend time on when it comes to your appearance is your hair."

Pausing in the act of arranging himself face down on the bed, Cullen looked at Dorian with raised eyebrows. "What do you know about that?"

"If you think that Mailani didn't tell her best friend about your meticulous hairstyling regime, then you are seriously mistaken," Dorian told him as he pushed Cullen lightly.

Falling flat with an oof, Cullen chuckled wryly. "I should have known. She teased me about it often enough."

"And rightfully so, Commander. Dragonthorn hair cream? Truly?" Dorian clucked his tongue, even as his hands settled again on Cullen's neck. "That must take a fair amount of your salary. Or you had an in with someone whose job it was to wander around the countryside and gather random herbal components. I wonder which it is, hmm?"

"Is that why there's always enough?" Cullen's eyes fluttered closed as slowly but surely the pain began to recede.

"It is part of her legacy, albeit a minor part. Far be it for me to not live up to maintaining the dignity and grace of your hair. Would the troops respect you if it collapsed into a flat, horrid mess?" Dorian asked, briefly patting Cullen's head for emphasis. "I think not."

With a tired chuckle, Cullen felt his body relax. "Whatever you say, Inquisitor." If Dorian had an answer, he didn't hear it. Instead, he simply let the motions of the fingers chase away the pain and stress of his waking hours to be replaced by a peace which had been sorely missing from his life.

And if, deep down, he wondered why Dorian's efforts reminded him so keenly of Mailani's deft touch, well… he chose not to dwell on the matter. Sleep seemed a far more compelling option for contemplation.