"Dragons are not polite creatures," Dorian declared. The words didn't carry very far, given his position lying face down on his sleeping roll in his tent, but it did reach the ears of the one tending to the burns on Dorian's tenderized backside.

Bull chuckled as he smoothed the salve over Dorian's damaged skin. "Well, maybe you shouldn't have run away from her."

"I was running from the monstrous fireball coming from her mouth, thank you very much," Dorian said acidly. "And drawing her attention away from where you were charging in to whack her feet out from under her."

"And it worked, too," Bull said proudly. "Knocked her off-balance long enough for Varric to blind her with a couple of bolts and Solas to wave his silly stick."

Wincing as the salve burned coldly on his wounds, Dorian tried to focus on the words rather than the pain. "Do keep in mind that Solas and that silly stick slammed a boulder into her noggin, which gave you a chance to mount the dragon and effectively brain her with your own silly stick."

"Damn right I did," he declared. "Teamwork. It's called teamwork." Dorian didn't need to look back at Bull to see the grin on his face, but he did anyway. For all his complaints about the horned man, it was good to see his friend so happy. "And damn good teamwork, too. I even got my tooth this time."

"Yes, that tooth. Why do you need it, anyway?" Dorian asked, then hissed as Bull hit a particularly sensitive spot. "Be careful, you oaf!"

"Sorry, boss," Bull said quickly, backing away for a moment. "I'll let it sit for a moment to let the elfroot kick in."

Dorian went limp and sighed. "Maker, but this is embarrassing."

"Oh, I don't know." Bull fondled the unburnt part of Dorian's ass for a moment, then gave it a sharp, relatively painless slap. "I'm having fun."

"Bull," Dorian said with a groan. "You promised you wouldn't take any liberties."

With a snort, Bull reached for the bottle of salve to spread some more on his hands. "And you told me you wouldn't enjoy it."

Dorian's ears heated, unable to deny his physical reaction given exactly where Bull had been touching him. "Beast," he grated between his teeth.

"Vint," Bull shot back. "Of course, I can always send for the others, if you'd prefer."

"Now, now," Dorian said quickly. Solas and Varric were dear friends, without question, but there were some things better handled by someone who had already seen Dorian naked. "Let's not be hasty."

"I thought so," Bull said. This time Dorian didn't look back to see the smug expression on the Qunari's face-he just knew it would be there. "Don't worry about it, boss. I won't do more than enjoy the view. But there's no way you're getting on a horse until tomorrow. I mean, even with the salve it isn't going to be a fun trip."

As Bull continued his task, Dorian let loose a heavy sigh. "I am grateful," he admitted. "And not just for this." He peeked back once more, frowning as he saw the fresh pink scars on Bull's shoulder-and those were just the ones he could see from his current position. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"What, me? I'm indestructible, boss," Bull said with a shrug. "The scars just make me sexier, that's all. I'll get a lot of play out of these when I get back to Skyhold."

Dorian rolled his eyes as he laid his head on his forearms again. "Of course you will."

"Trust me. I mean, don't get me wrong-those scratches hurt, but better me than you, right? My hand doesn't glow in the dark." He nudged Dorian intimately with his hand as he added, "Though that would be pretty cool. I remember what it looked like when you stroked my-"

"Yes, yes," Dorian interrupted hastily, ears burning again. "Well, thank you. For taking the blow, I mean."

Even as the words dropped from his lips, he could hear Bull's grin. "Well... I mean, if you want to give one to me..."

Maker. "The dragon, you buffoon!" Dorian groaned.

"Just sayin', boss. The offer is always on the table," Bull said in a cheerful voice. "Just like you could be."

Something about the way Bull said the words as his fingers rubbed the salve over Dorian's anatomy suddenly struck him as the height of absurdity. A fit of laughter swelled within, sweeping over his body with an intensity which left him breathless and drained.

"Everything all right, boss?" Bull asked, reaching up to rest his hand lightly on Dorian's back. "I wasn't trying to be that funny."

"I'm fine, Bull," Dorian gasped. "I think the day is finally catching up with me."

Bull grunted, then patted Dorian's back and rose to his knees. "Then I'll let you sleep."

"But the sun is still out," Dorian pointed out. "I can-"

"Stay here and sleep," Bull said in a firm voice. "I wouldn't recommend getting into a saddle again until the salve has a chance to work, anyway, so don't even try. I'll come by in a few hours and check on you, but until then, just relax."

Dorian muttered an imprecation under his breath, then dropped his head onto his hands. "Oh, very well," he sniffed. "If you insist."

Bull slapped his backside smartly one more time, startling Dorian into a short oath. "You're grateful, admit it."

"Kaffas. I don't see how I can get some rest if you insist on lingering here," Dorian snapped back.

With a laugh, Bull covered him with a light blanket, then patted him gently. "Sleep, boss. You've earned it."

As Bull eased through the entrance to the tent, Dorian said quietly, "Thank you, Bull."

Bull paused and looked back. "I heard that."

"Good." Closing his eyes, Dorian added, "Because I am grateful, you oaf."

With a laugh, Bull left, dropping the flap closed behind him. Soon enough, the heat of the tent combined with the exhaustion of the fight with the dragon, and Dorian let himself fall into slumber. He had earned it, after all, even if the price had been near-immolation.

It seemed mere moments after his eyelids closed that he opened them again, however. He frowned as he pushed himself to his feet. The tent was gone, and he found himself instead in a vaguely familiar garden. His eyes widened as, for a moment, he forgot he was in a dream and only wondered how he had returned to the estate of House Pavus in Qarinus.

Before the moment passed, a hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around, and he felt a shock course through him.

"Father," he whispered, taking an inadvertent step back.

"You," Halward snarled, tone laced with shocking vitriol. "This is all your fault." Before Dorian could respond, Halward shoved him down to the ground, then lashed out with his foot. "All your fault, you ungrateful wretch. You abandoned your duty and your House, and all for what? I hope those cocks were worth it."

Shocked, Dorian raised his arms to ward off the blow. Halward had never been this enraged, not even at his worst. "Father, I-"

"Silence! You don't deserve to speak," Halward spat, then heaved his staff around in a vicious arc clearly intended to strike Dorian in the head

Dorian caught the end of the staff with his hands, staring at his father in confusion. This can't be Father, can it?

And, as he asked the question, Dorian knew where he was, and what was happening. The garden grew pale and wan as the Fade came to the fore, and with understanding of the dream came control of it. With a surge of magic, Dorian pushed himself to his feet, keeping a hold of the staff and his gaze locked on the demon wearing his father's face and form. As Halward's face darkened in anger, Dorian sent a shock of lightning up the staff and knocked the demon off his feet, turning the table as Dorian seized control of the encounter.

Swiftly he pinned the demon to the ground with the staff, pressing in as it struggled against his weight. "Now then, let's start this again, shall we?" Dorian asked in a cheerful voice.

Halward snarled at him. "It's all your fault."

Well, now... that was odd. "You really aren't making sense, even for a demon, you know," Dorian said companionably. "Besides, aren't you supposed to be trying to cajole or seduce me or something?"

The demon stared at him, then slowly grinned. A wound slowly opened on his father's neck, and blood poured from it in shockingly bright rivulets of crimson as the demon laughed hoarsely. "You don't know, do you? You will soon, though. And then you'll understand."

Dorian frowned, no longer amused. He sent a swift burst of magic down the length of the staff, then gasped when both demon and staff disappeared, leaving him to lurch forward.

He collapsed onto a cracked, dirty floor of stone, the ground trembling and bucking around him. His eyes widened as he turned, though knowing what he would find did not prepare him. Again he saw Mailani shout his name and reach out, and again he saw her disappear beneath a pile of rubble. With a roar, he pushed himself to his feet and rushed towards her, desperation overriding his awareness of his surroundings.

Again he arrived far, far too late.

Struggle as he might to retain an awareness that this was only a dream of a memory, that he could take control back at any moment, he found he could not simply walk away or deviate from the echo of time demanded by the Fade. Again he took her hand, and again he wept over her body. This time, however, instead of being consumed by a coruscating cloud of bright light, he felt the rise of something else entirely, a burning rage which deserved only one name: vengeance.

Propelled by the wrath and the need to strike, he pivoted to his left, and to the shadows where the murderer lurked while waiting to claim his prize. Vision turning red, Dorian launched himself forward, staff raised above his head and magic at the ready as he prepared an attack on the one who had dared shake the very roots of the mountain to kill his dear friend.

For a moment he saw the gleam of red eyes and a smug smile, just before a blast of magic hit him full in the chest and sent him hurtling back, twisting and turning in the air as he gasped for breath and some modicum of control once more.

His back landed on something soft and bouncy, naked and-a quick glance down confirmed-aroused. At some point in all that tumbling through the air, his apparel had apparated away, leaving him bare as a baby but in a state far less innocent. Despite the softness of the landing, the force of it pushed the air out of his lungs, and for a moment all he could manage was to lay (mostly) limp and gasping, struggling to make sense of this decidedly odd dream.

Abruptly a shadow appeared above him, and a warm body pressed against his with as much rampant eagerness as his own. When the man leaned forward, Dorian's eyes widened at the sight of a familiar face. "Surely you don't have to leave so soon?" Hawke growled, just before he seized Dorian's lips in a passionate kiss.

This was no demon, Dorian knew that instantly. No, this was a memory, conjured from the depths of his mind and given form by his own magic and will. The kiss caught him off guard but not unready, and bore the same fire and passion he remembered from that singularly invigorating night with Hawke. When the man's hand slipped between their torsos and grasped both men in a decidedly intimate fashion, Dorian moaned into the kiss and bucked his hips forward, lost in that moment between memory and dream. Something about that touch encouraged him to throw aside caution, a call his desperate body happily answered.

His skin heated under Hawke's roaming touch, which seemed somehow better without the haze of alcohol which had facilitated that evening in Skyhold. The distant sorrow of Hawke's fate gave this interlude a poignant beauty, which encouraged Dorian to dally perhaps a bit longer than he should have, or perhaps it was simply that Hawke knew how to please a man. It wasn't until he felt those same talented fingers probe a bit deeper that he snapped out of the pleasurable reverie and forced himself to once again take control of the Fade enough to push the scene away.

He collapsed back onto the phantom bed and groaned. Part of him regretted the need to push the memory away, but he simply couldn't relive it again, not while he was aware of it. It was one thing to enjoy a good dream-and Maker knows he had done so, with Hawke and others-but it was another matter entirely to willfully re-enact a moment with someone who had now passed. It felt dirty somehow, or at least disrespectful. "Not that the bastard would mind," Dorian half-muttered to himself, then sighed and shook his head. "Right. Time to wake up."

Closing his eyes, he calmed himself as best as he could, breathing deep as he fought to find his center and ground long enough to return to the waking world. The throbbing between his legs made it difficult at best, however, and finally with a noise of exasperation, he tried to do something about it.

Tried, anyway-only to find that he couldn't move his hands. His eyes snapped open, but he saw only darkness, alleviated by the sprinkling of light leaking through a tight blindfold. His heart sped as he struggled against the ropes binding his limbs, but it wasn't exactly fear that spurred him on.

A sardonic chuckle filled his ears, and a hot breath fell on his cheek as a familiar voice murmured, "Tight enough for you, Vint?"

Dorian swallowed harshly. He supposed it made sense that the night with Hawke would be followed by a wholly different, yet still as vigorous, memory. Usually if the Fade couldn't fulfill the dreamer's desire in one fashion, it found another way to work its way in, keeping the dreamer in its clutches as long as it could manage. And Bull, unlike Hawke, was very much alive, and thus avoided the awkward nature of that particular memory.

It posed quite the conundrum. His extensive training warned Dorian that he really shouldn't remain in the Fade for much longer, particularly in such a state. Strong emotions often proved quite the lure to demons, after all, and desire equally so. Still, as Bull's strong hands slowly worked their way over Dorian's body, testing the thin ropes in between maddening bouts of stroking and rubbing, Dorian found that logic hard to hold onto-especially as something else grew hard as a result of Bull's activities.

Maker.

He didn't realize he'd moaned the word out loud until the hands molesting him paused and Bull leaned in. "Enjoying yourself?" he asked in a rumble that Dorian felt in his core.

Dream. This is a dream. The words danced through his mind as he moaned again and nodded enthusiastically. Can't... stay.

Bull laughed, again in that deep, low rumble that punched down Dorian's spine and directly to his aching length. "Good. Then you're really going to enjoy the next part."

As Bull positioned himself behind Dorian, thumbs digging deep in all the right ways, Dorian sucked his breath between his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. Can't... stay!

It was enough-barely-to pull him out of the dream and back to the waking world. With a stifled cry, he pushed himself out of sleep and onto his elbows and knees, panting heavily as the tent whirled around him. With each breath, reality returned as the little details slowly solidified in ways the Fade simply could not replicate: the cold of the ground beneath his bedroll, the blooming pain of his burns, the scent of the night air in the foothills of the mountains.

His body sagged as he realized that he was safe once more. Mages always had to treat the Fade with caution, of course, but the mark on his hand made it even more important for Dorian to retain control of himself. Not even the dreams orchestrated by Mailani had been quite that vibrant, and for a fleeting moment Dorian wondered at the possibility of a guiding hand.

After a bit more deliberation, however, he dismissed the notion. The first dream with his father had involved a demon, even if it had been rather unsubtle and easy to dismiss-a not-unheard of Fade encounter for a mage such as himself. After that, his dreams had been guided by nothing more than his emotions, brought on by his exhaustion, more than likely.

Well, exhaustion and Bull's fondling from earlier. Dorian's ache persisted, even this long after waking, and he faced the prospect of lying on his stomach with a marked distaste. Leaning down so that his head could rest on his forearms, Dorian sighed as he contemplated his fate. "Damn the lummox," he muttered to himself.

It seemed the gods of caprice were not finished with him, either. Dorian started as a cool wind washed over his bare bottom, only belatedly realizing that his violent departure from the Fade had caused the thin blanket to fall away from him. "Well, now," Bull said with obvious appreciation. "That's not a bad view."

"Oh, shut up," Dorian snapped, quickly reaching to the side to find the blanket. "As if you could find any better."

Bull laughed as he settled down in the spot he'd vacated earlier. "I see you're awake. Pleasant dreams?"

Kaffas. "Obviously not, or I'd still be in them." Dorian sighed and rubbed his forehead, trying to remember he shouldn't blame his current state of discomfiture on Bull. "Sorry. It just hasn't been as restful a night as I'd hoped."

"Yeah, I can tell," Bull said. As Dorian bridled slightly, Bull added, "A little bit of your skin cracked open. I'll need to clean it again."

"Oh." Feeling contrite that he'd assumed something far more lewd, Dorian sighed and tried to get a bit more comfortable. "Thank you."

"No charge." For a moment there was the sound of sloshing and rustling behind him. "This part is gonna sting," he warned Dorian, then pressed a cloth to Dorian.

Bull waited until Dorian had hissed and then relaxed again before cleaning the area with a surprisingly gentle touch. Or perhaps not so surprisingly, now that Dorian considered it. After all, Bull had been quite tender with Dorian after he'd-

"You all right, boss?" Bull asked, stopping his ministrations for a moment. "You tensed up. Something I should know about?"

Sweet Maker, no. Dorian shook his head wordlessly, trying to get the lingering image of the after from his mind. Given the state of his cock, however, it was proving difficult. And, as Bull changed from cleaning to application of the salve, resistance grew even more difficult.

"You seem really tense, boss," Bull said quietly as he smoothed the salve over Dorian's skin. "Look, I know I said I'd wait for you to bring it up, but... well... I mean, it's up . And pretty happy to see me."

"Bull," Dorian groaned. "I'm-"

"Fine, I know. Except you aren't." Bull's voice was completely serious as he started touching other points along Dorian's body while he spoke. "Your tension is creating a little knot in your lower back, and that's going to only get worse in the saddle. That will also carry down your legs and start affecting your knees and ankles if you leave it untouched for too long. Your shoulders are drawing in and holding tight, and in a few days it's going to start affecting your use of your staff. And that's not even touching on the mess in your neck right now." Bull's fingers lightly touched the bundle of tight muscles at the base of Dorian's neck, then traced it up to his temples. "Those headaches you're going to get soon will be pretty monumental. I'm not saying that a good fuck will get rid of all of it, but it would help. You need some relief, boss, and sooner rather than later. I'm not sure what you're holding in so damn hard, but it needs to come out."

"Beast," Dorian gasped, though even those light touches to his muscles released a tiny flare of pain he couldn't ignore.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But you also know I'm right," Bull said, voice still serious. "Maybe it's Cullen, or what happened at Adamant. Maybe it's the dreams you had last night, or the burns from the fight. It doesn't really matter, though, if it means in the end you're going to be a painful little mess of pulled muscle." With a sigh, Bull settled his hands on Dorian's shoulders and gently pulled him upright, positioning Dorian carefully so that no weight fell on his inconveniently placed burns. "I know I'm not Cullen, but I can help."

Dorian's eyes closed as he shuddered. "It's... everything." The words came slowly, almost shamefully, but they needed to come out. "It's finding out the truth about what happened to Mailani. It's knowing that two good men willingly sacrificed themselves to buy me time to do what had to be done. It's seeing Varric struggling to figure out whether or not he could have had a friend. It's hearing the soldiers talk about those lost in battle, even if they don't blame me for it."

"But you do," Bull prompted.

"I do." His head tipped back. "I'm the Inquisitor. I have advisors, true, but in the end, I'm the one who dictates where they go, who they fight. And maybe if I'd chosen more aptly, more of them would still live."

"That just means you're a good leader," Bull grunted. "Why do you think I keep the number of Chargers so low? It's because I never wanted to have so many people in my command that I'd be forced to take contracts that would mean one of them would probably die. As long as I can charge in and save 'em when they're in danger, that's enough troops for me."

Dorian's eyes opened as he turned to meet Bull's gaze. "The Qunari knew exactly what choice they gave you, didn't they?"

Bull gave a little shrug. "Pretty much, though I didn't figure that out until later. All I knew is that I didn't trust myself to make it. That's why I asked you to decide for me."

"Do you regret that?"

"Do you regret leaving your life in Tevinter behind?"

The question caught Dorian by surprise, but he considered it with the weight it deserved. "I miss the Imperium, or rather, I miss what it could be. But I don't miss my life there."

"Exactly," Bull grunted. "So no. I don't regret asking. Because I knew you'd make the right choice for me."

"Even though you are an uneducated oaf with the fashion sense of… of Solas, and I am the picture of perfection?" Dorian asked with raised eyebrows.

Bull gave him a broad grin. "Even then." As Dorian smiled, Bull nudged him in the hip. "But that's not all, is it? There's more going on in that mind of yours. Out with it."

Dorian's smile faded as he remembered why they'd gotten into this little exercise in the first place. "It's also the uncertainty of what lies ahead."

Eye narrowing shrewdly, Bull nudged Dorian again. "You don't mean Corypheus, do you?"

"No." For a long moment, Dorian fell silent, eyes sliding closed again. The cool of the night air and the warmth radiating from Bull's thick torso meant he instinctively leaned in towards the heat. When Bull wrapped his arm around Dorian, he startled a little, but didn't pull back. "No, though my worries rattle and bounce against each other like pebbles in a bucket."

"I think I can guess at some of them," Bull said, a hint of teasing in his tone.

"Only because you are an unprincipled lummox." The words carried no scorn and a great deal of affection, even though Dorian would, of course, deny that to anyone who asked him outright.

With a snort, Bull shook his head. "Yeah, that's what I figured. Well, if you're wondering... he is interested. More than interested."

"And how would you know?" Dorian asked waspishly, not bothering to deny the who of the whole discussion. Bull simply knew him too well.

"Well, maybe because of the way he perks up when he sees you coming, or the way he watches you when you leave," Bull mused. "Or the way you two manage to find a way to spend time together every day. I mean, that's where I'd start, anyway. If you asked."

Dorian opened his eyes to glare at Bull, finding him far too smug for Dorian's comfort. "We're friends."

"Friends. Right." Bull grinned widely at him. "So are we, you know. Even if I am a smelly barbarian who wouldn't know fashion if it hit me in the dangly bits."

That made Dorian laugh, even as he swatted Bull on the chest. "Oaf."

"That, too." Bull grew serious again. "But don't you see? It's not the same. What you have with me, and what you have with him. Sure, you can play chess with me, and we can drink together like we used to. Tonight, I may tie you down and fuck all that tension out of you, just like you need." As Dorian reddened, Bull continued, "But tomorrow, you'll be the boss, and I'll be the merc, and we'll still be just friends. I don't look at you the way he does, and you don't look at me the way you look at him. You need something from him that doesn't involve cock, even if you do want to get your hands on it eventually. And that's why you don't know what to do, isn't it?"

"You- I-" Dorian inhaled sharply, then suddenly sagged into Bull's chest. "You're awful."

"Yeah, I really am," Bull said with a grin.

"The absolute worst."

Bull's laugh jostled Dorian as he replied, "That's sort of implied, yeah."

"And most terrible of all, you're right," Dorian said with a sigh. "You see far too much with that eye of yours."

"Damn right I do," Bull said, then patted Dorian's hip companionably. "So, you are going to talk to him about it, right?"

Dorian frowned, uncertainty seeping in once more. "I... don't know. And before you start prattling on again, it's more than just whether or not there's interest. It's whether or not it's appropriate."

"Well, it can't be because you're the Inquisitor and he's the Commander. That's been done before." Bull paused, then grunted. "Oh. That's the problem, isn't it?"

"In part, yes. Oh, I'm not worried about anyone accusing me of anything, but in a certain light, it might be viewed as somewhat crass for me to pursue him." Even as the words left his mouth, Dorian realized there was a bit more to it, something he felt compelled to put to words. "And... well, I don't want to lessen Mailani in his memory. Or supplant her. She was my dearest friend, and I have no wish to sully her legacy."

"So you want Cullen to die alone, then?" Bull asked.

"What?" Dorian blinked at the unexpected question. "Of course not."

"Then eventually someone will be in his life again," Bull pointed out. "I don't see the point in bowing out or waiting if you think that you can both be happier together now."

Brow furrowing, Dorian turned that particular perspective around in his mind. "I will ponder that."

"Not for too long, I hope." Bull's hand rose and settled on Dorian's shoulder, thumb digging into the tension there. "Hmm. One pebble left."

Dorian's shoulders tensed again, and for a moment his dream flashed before his eyes. Not the memories, no: the first dream, the one which had left a lingering sense of foreboding deep within. His father's twisted face filled his vision, his harsh words echoing in his mind once more: "It's all your fault!"

"I don't know if I'm quite ready to pick that one apart yet," he said softly.

"Fair enough." Bull settled his other hand on Dorian's knee. "Then I'll ask you again. Do you want me to work those kinks out? Because I don't think they're going to go away all on their own."

The question hung between them for a moment as Dorian tilted his head back and tried to be absolutely honest with himself. He didn't have much practice with it, so it took a while for the answer to formulate. In the end it was his body's reaction to the simple process of contemplating the act of stress relief with Bull that made the decision for him.

Bull chuckled and stroked his hand up Dorian's thigh. "See? You need me. Or at least part of you does."

"You don't have to be so smug about-" Dorian began, then gasped as Bull took him in hand and gave him a squeeze.

"Don't worry. I'll be gentle," he teased Dorian, then carefully eased him forward until he was on all fours again.

The thin blanket quickly became several long, sturdy strips, though the one Bull tied around Dorian's eyes had to be double-wrapped to be effective. From there, the experience quickly became a blur of pleasure and release as Bull's hands found and chased away the tension he could find, then created a new sort of tension entirely. Dorian lost track of time, but he also lost sight of his worries and fears as well, as Bull used his cock to pound them all away.

But the most important part came after that, when Bull untied the makeshift ropes and eased away the marks beneath with a mixture of massage and pressure. By that point, Dorian simply lay limp on his sleeping roll, eyes half-closed, aching in all the right ways and completely, utterly relaxed for the first time since assuming the mantle of Inquisitor. And somewhere in the delirium of the delicious denouement of desire, he managed to murmur, "Thank you, Bull."

"Any time, boss." Bull's hands paused just long enough for him to lean down and grin at Dorian. "My pleasure."

"Beast," Dorian whispered.

"Vint," Bull said with a rumbly chuckle, then turned his attention back to the matter at hand. "Besides, I'm just returning the favor. You gave me the Chargers back, remember?"

Dorian smiled, but found he couldn't quite open his mouth to respond. In fact, he found that he couldn't quite do anything, so he simply stopped trying.

Sleep came quickly after that. Sleep, and nothing more.

The next morning, he held a quick consultation with his companions about whether to return to the troops or proceed to Skyhold, given the latter's proximity and the fact that the two destinations lay in opposite directions. Much as Dorian would have preferred to see Cullen again as soon as possible, he also knew that there were likely a pile of papers awaiting him on Josephine's ledger the moment he stepped foot in Skyhold once more.

After sending an agent back to deliver the message about their destination, they sallied forth to Skyhold. If Dorian's saddle had a bit more padding on it than normal, no one made a comment about it. The salve had done wonders, but it was still a struggle to remain upright for the hours it took to reach Skyhold. By the time they rode through the main gate, he was quite happy to ease his way down to the ground and walk, stiffly but quickly, to the bathhouse.

After an hour or so, and a health potion or two, he felt much more himself. As predicted, once he was available, Josephine swooped in with her ledger and pen at the ready. "Inquisitor, there are some matters awaiting your attention."

"Of course there are," he said in a resigned tone. "Your office?"

"My office," she affirmed.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Josephine took a folded piece of paper from her ledger and held it out to him. "I believe this is the most important piece of information I have to give you."

Eyebrow raised, Dorian took the paper and unfolded it, reading it as he moved to the chair he normally sat in for their impromptu meetings. Halfway there, he stopped so he could focus his full attention on re-reading the letter before looking up at Josephine. "And you're sure she wrote it?"

Josephine nodded. "Charter vouches for it," she told him. "She found it in a cache known only to herself and Leliana, and all the ciphers are current."

"It's certainly unusual," Dorian mused, then shook himself and headed to the chairs again. "She's been gone for extended lengths of time before without leaving behind more than a I'll be back notice. I wonder why she left such an extensive missive this time. "

"I'm more concerned about the timing, Inquisitor," Josephine said as she settled in across from him in their chairs by the fireplace.

"Oh?" Dorian frowned a moment, making a few calculations of his own as he re-re-read the note, then leaned back in his chair as realization struck. "Oh."

Josephine pressed her lips together and closed her eyes for a moment, a quirk Dorian recognized as her way of taking a moment to gather her thoughts. "After word reached us of the events at Adamant, she became almost a recluse," Josephine said in a subdued tone. "For a day or two she threw herself into her work, but it must not have been enough." Josephine sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Charter said her food went untouched, and her bed unused. Once I caught her muttering about her dreams, but-"

That caught Dorian's attention, and he leaned forward again. "Her dreams? What did Leliana say about them, exactly?"

"Ah… Let me think." Lips pursing thoughtfully, Josephine tapped her quill on the ledger a few times before she said, "She said something about not letting him control her again."

A chill ran through Dorian. "Nothing more?"

"Not that I heard, no, Inquisitor," Josephine said apologetically. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm not sure," Dorian admitted. Leliana could have meant Alistair, after all, but somehow Dorian didn't think that's the him Leliana meant. "It is always difficult to lose a loved one, even for someone as formidable as Leliana. Grief can cause unexpected reactions." When Josephine looked uncertain, he added, "And she didn't simply leave for no reason. She is investigating Calpernia."

"True," Josephine conceded with a soft sigh. "Still, I am uneasy. Why sneak off in the middle of the night, and why inform us in such a fashion? A conversation would have been sufficient, I would think."

Dorian shook his head. "I have no answer for you, Lady Ambassador. But at least one thing is certain: whatever Leliana's purpose, we can be certain she will be triumphant, yes?"

That earned him a small smile. "I will keep that in mind, Inquisitor. Thank you."

"If we worried about every little thing we didn't understand, we'd never get out of bed in the morning," Dorian said with a soft chuckle. "We must trust that Leliana knows what she is up to. Or at least, that's what I think I'll be telling myself until I see her again. Besides, I rather think that if Leliana does not wish to be found, we won't find her."

"That is most certainly true," Josephine said with a smile. "Very well, then, Inquisitor. Charter and I will meet each morning to keep me apprised of the reports coming in. I will keep you informed of any updates on the matter."

"Excellent." Dorian straightened in his chair and tucked Leliana's note into one of his pouches. "Now, I'm sure that isn't the only piece of paper which requires my attention."

"Indeed not, Inquisitor." A sheaf of papers appeared in her hand as if by magic. "There are quite a few updates. Do you wish to start in Orlais, or Ferelden?"

Bracing himself, Dorian held out his hand expectantly. "I think Ferelden. They tend to be more boring, and I wouldn't want to fall asleep later in the briefing if we wait too long to get to them."

"Inquisitor," Josephine scolded him.

"I spent weeks there on my own before the Inquisitor came to Redcliffe, if you'll recall. Aside from the incidental fighting between mages and Templars, the only excitement was that someone actually made a tasty stew once. Can you imagine? In Ferelden? They were talking about it for days afterwards."

That made Josephine laugh, then look slightly guilty as she put her fingertips to her mouth when her diplomatic nature got the better of her. "Perhaps we should discuss the reports, Inquisitor?"

"As you wish, Lady Ambassador," Dorian replied, pulling up the first report and peering closely at it. "Oh. I see." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You didn't send word on to him yet, did you?"

"No, Inquisitor," Josephine said gently. "I thought it might be better to discuss the message with you."

Dorian sighed and stared at the name at the bottom of the letter, the guilt rising within once more. "Alistair spoke of the Arl with great fondness. Apparently he was the one who went to Kirkwall to finish what Cullen started in pulling him from the gutter. This was… not a letter I look forward to crafting." Setting the stack of papers on the table between them, he considered Josephine for a moment. "At least I managed to persuade Varric to send off the notices about Hawke."

"We also have messages from Starkhaven and Kirkwall, but those can wait." Nodding towards the missive in Dorian's grasp, Josephine set her pen to paper and waited expectantly. "What shall we tell Art Teagan?"

Heaving a sigh, Dorian stared down at the letter again. "The truth, or as much of the truth as we can tell. He should know that Alistair died a hero, to start."

"Then let us start there," she agreed, her voice gentle. "Tell me what happened."

Leaning back in his chair, Dorian stared up at the ceiling for a moment. "Alistair went to Adamant to save the Grey Wardens, and ended up giving his life to save the world. He was a good man, and I was proud to fight at his side even for a little while."

As they crafted first the letter to the Arl, then the letters to send to the ruler of Starkhaven and others, Dorian couldn't help but relive those final moments with Alistair and Hawke and wonder if, perhaps, he could have done something, anything , differently. In the end, he had to push the thoughts aside to concentrate on the task at hand.

After all, he still had a lot of work to do.

By the time he escaped Josephine's office, Dorian felt more than a little stretched thin emotionally. He allowed himself a short visit to his balcony with a glass of wine, staring at the serene vista of the mountains around Skyhold until he found a modicum of the relaxation Bull had worked so tirelessly to gift him.

The thought which finally brought a smile to his face consisted of Cullen standing beside him, hand wrapped around his waist and the fur of his mantle tickling his habitually bare arm. Dorian caught his fingers rising to stroke the bared skin and halted them, choosing instead to reach up and smooth his mustache. Still, he let the little scene play out in his mind for a moment as the wine slowly disappeared, then sighed and turned from the window when the glass came up empty.

He tried to hold onto to the warmth of the daydream as he wended his way back into the main hall, heading for the room where Solas generally lurked in Skyhold. Josephine's report of Leliana's muttering about her dreams left a lingering concern, and he wanted to confer with Solas to see if they could remotely protect Leliana's dreams as they had Cullen and the others who had been to Adamant.

Before he reached the door leading to Solas' lair, however, Varric's voice reached his ear, edged with a bit more exasperation than was usual. "I appreciate the warning, but you shouldn't have come yourself. What if the guild found out? Or… whatshisname?"

Dorian sighed a bit. That sounded like something the Inquisitor should know about. His work, it seemed, was never done. Slowing his pace, he changed his trajectory to intercept Varric while keeping a careful ear on the conversation.

As he approached, the person standing next to Varric made a nonchalant gesture. "Are you worrying for me or for yourself?"

"A little of column A and a little of column B. I am the expendable one, after all," Varric muttered.

"I heartily disagree with that," Dorian declared. "Who else is going to flagrantly cheat me at cards if not you?"

The woman turned to face him with an oddly knowing smirk on her lips. "Well, this is a surprise. You're the Inquisitor, right? Bianca Davri, at your service."

"Bianca?" Dorian's grin widened. "I seem to recall teasing Varric a fair amount about molesting a Bianca. Alas, it was only his crossbow. More's the pity."

Varric sighed heavily as Bianca shot him an amused look. "Thank you, your Inquisitorialness. I'm not sure that she needed to hear that, though."

"No charge," Dorian said with a slow wink. "I take it you're a friend of Varric's, then?"

Bianca gave a little shrug. "Who isn't a friend of Varric's? You have met him before. right?"

"Long enough for him to empty my coin purse a time or two," Dorian said with a laugh.

Her smirk widened into a grin. "Oh, good. That means he'll actually have something for me to take in our next card game."

"Can we talk about why she's actually here, Sparkler?" Varric interjected. "I mean, if we're done talking about ways to pick each others' pockets."

Bianca's eyes traveled over Dorian's outfit. "I think I can see how you earned that particular nickname," she observed. "I wouldn't want to try to hide that outfit in the Deep Roads."

"I assure you, my lady, that I am absolutely nowhere to be found when it comes to the Deep Roads," Dorian promised.

"Because he'll never go there," Varric put in. "Not because he has any special ability to hide."

"And can you blame me?" Dorian asked. "It's not as if you like going there, either."

"A man after your own heart, hmm?" Bianca asked Varric, rolling her eyes. "I suppose I should have known."

"And I can see why you two get along so splendidly," Dorian mused. "There seems to be a certain sarcastic synergy between you."

"I don't think I would have put it like that," Varric said. "Besides, I don't see Bianca very often. Usually only when something's wrong."

Dorian raised an eyebrow as he looked between the two of them. "I take it that something is wrong, then?"

"You might say that." Varric glanced at the woman at his side. "Bianca's got a lead on where Corypheus got his red lyrium."

That caught Dorian's attention. "Oh?"

"The site of Bartrand's Folly, the thaig Varric found, has been leaked," Bianca explained.

"The one where you found the idol?" Dorian asked, admittedly fascinated by the idea.

"Well, if the name didn't give that little tidbit away, then I don't know what to tell you, Sparkler," Varric said. Ignoring Dorian's subsequent glare, he added, "Bianca said she spotted some suspicious activity nearby."

"There's a Deep Roads entrance crawling with strange humans carting out red lyrium by the handful." Bianca wrinkled her nose. "Strange, stupid humans."

"I take it they're not taking proper precautions?" Dorian guessed. "Lyrium is quite common in Minrathous-it's one reason the dwarves have as much political power as they do in the Imperium. I've had the volatility of raw lyrium drummed into my head since I was a wee tot. I would imagine red lyrium is far worse."

"Oh, yes," Varric said fervently. "Most definitely."

"And these humans aren't taking any precautions," Bianca said with a grimace. "My guess is that most of them will be dead inside a year. Painfully."

Dorian gave a little shudder. "After removing enough red lyrium to cause more problems than I want to imagine, I'll warrant. Especially since it's in the Deep Roads. Some of the slave traders in the Imperium have routes mapped from the Imperium to Antiva, so it would be a simple matter for them to distribute red lyrium across Thedas if they wished." Dorian sighed, then glared at Varric in accusation. "This is all your fault."

"My fault?" Varric's brow wrinkled. "I may have helped fund the expedition, but it was all Bartrand's idea."

"No, no, not that," Dorian said hastily. "I'm complaining about the fact that I actually have to go to the Deep Roads now. I hate the Deep Roads."

"You and me both, Sparkler," Varric sighed. "You and me both."

Dorian didn't want to elaborate on his hatred of the Deep Roads, since he preferred not to linger on his journey from the Imperium to Redcliffe, or the personal compromises and sacrifices he'd had to make on the way. Certain memories had been nicely buried, and really he only truly regretted the sale of his last piece of personal history. Still, that was far too private to get into with the dwarf, good friend or no. Turning back to Bianca, he asked, "Are you sure they only have the one entrance?"

"Thankfully, that thaig only has one way in and out," Bianca explained. "And even that took a special expedition to find."

"After what happened with the idol, I tend to think that was done on purpose," Varric grunted. "Who would want that stuff on the loose?" When Dorian gave him a look, he added, "I mean, what sane person would want that stuff on the loose?"

"Corypheus certainly doesn't possess that particular attribute, true," Dorian mused. "Still, that's a bit of good news for our little investigation. I wonder how they found it in the first place?"

"There were a few people who knew," Varric explained. "Hirelings from the expedition, a couple close friends…"

"How they found out isn't important," Bianca declared. "What matters is we know where they are now."

Dorian tilted his head as he regarded her for a moment. "If it is such a secret, how did you learn of it, hmm?"

Varric shifted back and forth on his feet before he finally sighed. "I told her. Right after the expedition, I wrote and told Bianca what we found." When Dorian simply crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow in expectation, Varric raised his hands in self-defense. "I had artifacts that needed buyers and she had more contacts that would pay for them. Besides, I owed her."

"I see. Well, that's reasonable enough, I suppose." He glanced down at his clothes. "I presume I'll need a different, less sparkly outfit for this mission."

Varric gave a little chuckle. "I'd recommend it. Then you'll go?"

Dorian closed his eyes for a moment. What he truly wanted to do was wait here until Cullen returned so that they could have that long overdue discussion Bull had highlighted, followed by a long night of incredibly primal activity. As it was, however, he acknowledged that learning more about this matter was better for the Inquisition as a whole, even if not for the Inquisitor. With a purely internal sigh, he opened his eyes and accepted his responsibilities.

"We have to deal with this as soon as we can, and preferably soon. As long as he has this source of red lyrium, Corypheus will be that much more powerful. And I can think of a few upcoming events I'd prefer him to be impotent, yes?" Besides, he added silently, I owe Varric. It remained unspoken because he suspected Varric wouldn't understand the guilt Dorian still felt for leaving Hawke behind in the Fade, but the memory of Varric's expression when he'd learned of Hawke's fate still stung. "And here I thought I would be able to stay out of the saddle for longer than a day."

"Sorry, Sparkler. At least Bull can help you if the pain gets too bad." Ignoring Dorian's dour glare, Varric turned to Bianca. "Why don't you go ahead and scout the place? We'll catch up with you."

With a nod, she looked between Dorian and Varric. "You won't be too far behind, will you? I'm not looking forward to just hanging around a cave without much to do."

"Don't worry, my lady. We won't be far behind," Dorian assured her. "I just need to settle a couple of things, write some messages, and gather a suitably ferocious group to aid us."

"All right." Fixing her gaze on Varric, Bianca murmured, "See you soon. Don't keep me waiting too long."

Varric gave her a nod, his gaze staying on her until she'd disappeared through the main doors. "Should I go gather everyone?"

"Bull and Solas, yes," Dorian said with a sigh. "Honestly, you couldn't have waited a day?"

"She was here when we got back," Varric told Dorian in an apologetic voice. "Besides, I really want to investigate this. The last time I was down there was when I was with Hawke. Remember that staff Amell used against Mailani?"

Dorian's brows furrowed for a moment, then cleared as he recalled the red lyrium shining in the darkness of the cave in his memory. "Maker. I didn't think of that."

"Let's just say I'm really curious just how the Hero of Ferelden got his hands on that much red lyrium when, as far as I know, it was unknown until that expedition Bartrand and I financed." Varric rubbed his face roughly with one hand. "Maferath's balls. This shit just keeps getting crazier and crazier."

"That I can wholeheartedly agree with," Dorian said with a sigh. "Well. I'll get started on my letters, you get started on giving Bull and Solas the bad news."

"You got it, Sparkler." Varric glanced at his chair and the waiting sheaf of paper with its inkwell lying next to it with a look of longing, then shook his head before glancing up again. "And I'm sorry."

Dorian tilted his head. "For?"

Voice quiet, Varric said, "I know you wanted to wait here until the... the others got back to Skyhold, not running off to chase another rumor."

"I daresay the others will be back by the time we return, at least. Don't worry, Varric. This is important, too." A thought occurred to him that made him chuckle. "And maybe Solas and Bull will finally be able to finish their chess match."

"Is that why Bull chose Solas to go with us to fight the dragon?" Varric asked. "I would have thought Cassandra a better fit for that."

"Oh, I'm sure she'll join us next time," Dorian assured him with a wink.

Varric groaned and rolled his eyes. "Andraste's garters, don't even mention it. Maybe we'll be lucky and that's the last dragon we'll need to fight."

"Corypheus has one, remember?"

"Don't remind me." With a shudder, Varric shook his head. "Well, we'd better get started. I don't want to keep Bianca waiting."

"You will tell me someday why your crossbow is named after her, won't you?" Dorian asked mildly. "Or should I simply make the assumption that it's named after its designer?"

Varric hesitated, then glanced towards the doors through which Bianca had made her exit. "It's complicated," he muttered almost under his breath.

"Ah." Dorian clapped his hand on Varric's shoulder. "Luckily we have at least a day or two of travel coming up rather soon. Plenty of time to tell me all about these delicious complications of yours. Off you go. I'll see you in the stables soon."

He pretended not to hear the epithets Varric grumbled under his breath as the dwarf headed towards Solas' retreat, and set his feet to return to Josephine's office. Thankfully Solas would be with him so they could discuss the matter of Leliana, but he did have messages to leave for those who hadn't returned to Skyhold. Granted most of them could be relayed directly by Josephine, but there was one in particular he didn't trust to anything but a sealed envelope and the Ambassador's iron-clad discretion in making sure no one else knew about it.

Now, of course, came the most difficult part of all: figuring out what, precisely, needed to be written.

Compared to that, a trip to the Deep Roads to crack down on the source of their foe's red lyrium seemed but a pleasant walk on a summer day, no matter how many assurances Bull gave him. Dorian did have standards, after all. More worryingly, so did Cullen-and Dorian was all too intimately aware of his own flaws.

Maker. Why did the first step off a cliff have to be so terrifying?

By the time they emerged from the thaig, a pall had fallen over Dorian and his companions. The satisfaction of victory following a successful mission proved elusive, and rendered the journey to Skyhold relatively silent. The revelations in the thaig had proven troublesome for Varric in particular, reducing the normally loquacious dwarf to one-word sentences and grunts even at mealtimes.

Eventually Dorian drew his horse up next to Varric's, waiting for Varric to acknowledge him with a glance before asking, "Need to talk?"

"I thought I talked too much," Varric grunted.

"Not recently, no," Dorian observed, though he'd expected that guilt to be a part of the reason for the dwarf's self-imposed isolation. "It's a bit worrisome, honestly."

He saw Varric close his eyes and inhale deeply. "I'm glad I have answers, but… shit. The second I saw her at Skyhold, I knew, I just..." He shook his head, a mixture of anger and frustration leaking into his voice. "I let this mess happen. I gave her the thaig. And I am not good with dealing with shit like this."

A rueful smile touched Dorian's lips. "Name someone who is."

"You're not doing such a piss poor job yourself," Varric pointed out.

"Perhaps I'm just better at pretending than most," Dorian suggested. "Still. Try not to take too much of the blame onto yourself. Corypheus is large enough to spread that sort of burden around to several people."

Varric snorted a laugh, albeit with obvious reluctance. "I'll keep that in mind."

When the dwarf fell back into silence, Dorian reached over to rest his hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "I'm going to pick up the pace a bit. I think we could all do with getting back to Skyhold as quickly as we can. But do think on what I said."

"Yeah." Varric glanced up at him. "And… thanks. I mean it."

"Well, don't let anyone else hear you," Dorian said, drooping one eyelid in a subtle wink. "I do have a reputation."

Varric laughed. "Don't worry, Sparkler. I'm pretty good at keeping secrets, most of the time. You know. Unless they end up incidentally unleashing an ancient Darkspawn magister on the world." When Dorian gave him a look, Varric sighed. "I know, I know. I'll figure it out eventually."

With a shake of his head, Dorian decided to leave it at that for now and urged his mount to the lead. The sooner they reached Skyhold, the better.

They arrived at the last camp before Skyhold shortly after the normal dining hour, as the last light of the sun painted the horizon with a garish mix of pink and orange. The camp's location had been chosen to provide an easy day's journey for those leaving and returning to the Inquisition's headquarters, and thus was populated by a constant stream of agents, soldiers, and merchants along with a small support staff permanently stationed there. Tempted as he was to push through the night, Dorian knew that Dennett would never forgive him for abusing the mounts like that-even if Bull insisted on riding the one that looked like a walking drake skeleton.

As they watched their mounts get taken away for the night, Varric looked up at Bull. "Hey, Tiny."

"Hey, Varric," Bull responded without missing a beat.

"Why do you ride that thing? I would have thought a hart or the nuggalope more your style. You know," Varric made a gesture around his head, "with the bigger horns and everything."

Bull laughed. "Ah, but you're not thinking about how to instill fear in the hearts of your enemy. Harts aren't very scary in combat, not like a dracolisk."

"Well, what about the nuggalope? It's a battlemount," Varric pointed out. "It's got armor and everything."

Before answering, Bull looked around, then leaned down and whispered, "Have you seen their hands? Creepy."

"Really?" Shaking his head, Varric gave a little chuckle. "That's why you don't ride the nuggalope?"

"Hey, I have one simple rule: never ride anything with bigger hands than your own," Bull insisted.

Dorian couldn't help but snicker at that. He might even have smirked a little, though he'd never admit to it in polite company. When Bull grinned and opened his mouth, most likely to reply with something definitely not suitable for polite company, Dorian hastily blurted, "Why don't you go fetch us some dinner, Bull? It's been quite a long day in the saddle, and I'm sure we're all incredibly famished."

Bull grunted, then patted his stomach a couple of times. "Yeah, well, good point. I'll bring it to the meeting tent."

"An excellent idea," Dorian said enthusiastically. Hopefully the prospect of food would distract Bull from returning to the subject of hand size and riding. At least it would tide them over until they had found a bit more privacy. "We'll see you soon."

As Bull strolled off, rolling his shoulders and exchanging greetings with others along the way, Varric muttered, "Nice save."

"Thank you." With a nudge, Dorian added, "No thanks to you, I must point out."

"How was I supposed to know the conversation would end up there?" Varric protested.

Dorian laughed. "Because it's Bull. It always ends up there."

"He is a rather unusual individual," Solas noted. "Not single-minded or simple of mind, but eager for others to perceive him as such."

Varric grunted. "Makes sense. People are easier to hoodwink if they think you're an idiot. That's kind of useful for a spy. Add in the dumb hulking brute impression to that, and you've got it made."

"Oh, he's a brute all right," Dorian said affectionately. "But he's our brute. Ah, here we are."

Dorian led the way into the meeting tent, only to find it had already been cleared out and prepared for them. Well, for him- for the Inquisitor. Wine had been left on the table, and the fire built up enough that the tent glowed with a welcoming light. Basking in the warmth, Dorian moved to sit in one of the rugged chairs, picking one that still had a cushion in it before carefully taking a seat and gesturing the others to join him.

"Ahh, that's better," he said with a groan. "Once we return to Skyhold, remind me not to hop back in the saddle for at least a week. Preferably longer."

"Hey, at least your legs are long. Think about how I feel," Varric grunted as he settled himself into a chair.

"I would have more sympathy if you weren't the entire reason we left Skyhold in the first place," Dorian pointed out in a mild tone.

A wince crossed Varric's face. "I don't suppose I could blame Hawke, could I? I mean, he was the one who let Janeka go in the first place."

"It is fascinating to consider that Corypheus had the ability to control Grey Wardens to such an extent even back then," Solas noted from where he stood at the tent's entrance, watching the bustle of the camp. "Surely blame should not be placed upon those whose only sin is that of ignorance."

"I'm not sure that helping an ancient demigod who wants to rework the world to fit his own mad vision is something you should be able to be able to beg off responsibility for, even if you helped only by accident," Varric countered. "That just seems… wrong, somehow."

"Then take solace in the fact that you are doing what you can to keep him from ultimate success," Dorian said with some empathy. "After all, think of how my own involvement in this whole affair began. Alexius only made the advancements he did involving time manipulation because of me, and he used that knowledge to support Corypheus. Obligation to fight against evil does not always need to be founded completely in altruism."

Varric rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Sparkler. If Cassandra hadn't dragged me here, I'd still be Kirkwall right now, pretending none of this was happening."

Snorting in disbelief, Dorian gave Varric another scathing look. "And I would still be riding naked across Thedas on my unicorn, dispensing magical glitter and candy to happy little children throughout the lands."

The sheer absurdity of the statement made Varric laugh, and even Solas smiled. "Can I borrow that for one of my books?" Varric asked, still chuckling.

"I don't see why not, as long as I get credit for it," Dorian shot back.

"Fine." Heaving a sigh, Varric leaned back in his seat. "Have it your way, Sparkler. I'll stop blaming myself for that, at least. And maybe for other things." His brow furrowed. "Now that I've seen what happens to people after they're exposed to red lyrium, I think I can rest easier about my brother's death. It really was the best decision."

"The song of normal lyrium is compelling enough," Dorian said in a thoughtful tone. "I can't imagine what it must be like to hear a corrupted version of it."

Solas stirred and half-turned towards them. "Imagine the world as you know it, pristine and pure and real. Now imagine that changing, one element at a time, day by day, to something sinister and dark and corrupt. First the sky, then the ground, then the flowers and the trees, until even the animals are nothing but a blight upon the world. Nothing makes sense, and all you can hear is the mocking, twisted rendition of the song which had once flowed through your veins at such a subdued level you only knew it to be your heartbeat. That is what it is like: a slow loss of everything you hold dear until it has become a waking nightmare which can never end."

After a moment of staring at Solas, Dorian tilted his head and frowned. "You almost sound as if you speak from personal experience."

"I have never had the misfortune to be affected by red lyrium, no. Yet in my travels in the Fade, I have seen the fate of those who succumbed to the Blight, and experienced their dreams and memories of loss. It came as no surprise to hear that the corruption within red lyrium is related to the corruption of the Blight. It was powerful enough to destroy the fabled Golden City, after all."

"Wait. Does that mean the Black City is a living being as well?" Varric asked. "I mean, if the blight corrupted it."

Solas gave a little shrug. "Who knows? There is no one living who has ever walked the halls of the city, whether golden or black."

"Unless you count Corypheus," Dorian reminded him. "He does claim to have done precisely that. And he wasn't the only one, of course. All of the Magisters Sidereal participated in that particular little mad quest for power."

"The who of the what now?" Varric asked.

"Ah. The original Seven Magisters who entered the Black City. I believe you're acquainted with at least one of them," Dorian said with a sly wink. "I suppose it's not a very well known term outside of scholarly circles, at that."

"Huh. And here I thought they were just 'those ancient Tevinter bastards'." With a shrug, Varric shook his head. 'You learn something new every day."

"It strikes me that Corypheus was likely aided in his survival due to the efforts of the Grey Wardens themselves in their efforts to study him," Solas mused. "A true irony that their forced captivity of him may have preserved him to an extent. I would imagine the others have perished long since."

"Maker, I hope so," Dorian said fervently. "I'm not sure Thedas can withstand more boogeymen from its distant past rearing their head in the present. I'd rather keep it to one madman intent on remaking the world in his image, thank you."

"That would seem to be the more sensible option," Solas said with a faint smile.

With a short laugh, Dorian reached for the wine bottle. "Shall we toast to it?"

"Sounds good to me," Varric said with a chuckle. "Pour me a glass, would ya?"

"Naturally." Once the wine was poured, he picked up his glass and studied it for a moment as he gathered his thoughts and waited for Varric and Solas to retrieve their glasses. "Let's drink to a saner Thedas, shall we? An end to this nightmare we're facing once and for all."

Varric grinned as he tapped his glass to Dorian's own. "Couldn't have said it better myself. You've got a way with words, Sparkler."

A third glass joined theirs as Solas said, "I also agree most heartily, Inquisitor. I look forward to the day when the darkness is banished once more."

"Very well, then. To a brighter future!" Dorian clicked their glasses ceremoniously, then swallowed a decent amount of his glass. "Hmm. Not the Inquisition's best," he admitted. "Pity."

"Better than that Rite wine, though," Varric said with a shudder.

Dorian laughed as he settled back in his chair. "Quite true. Regardless, it should help me sleep well tonight."

"Yeah, you always do sleep better after a long, hard ride," a deep voice boomed from the tent's entrance, right before Bull swept into the tent, his arms laden with several types and layers of food.

Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose with a long-suffering sigh, resigned to the fact that Bull was, in a word, incorrigible. "Thank you, Bull."

Bull grinned at him as he started to unload his burden on the table. "No charge. Now come on, let's eat. I'm starving!"