Though sleep in his own bed proved to be not as restful as in the Inquisitor's, at least his dreams were his own again thanks to the changes Dorian had made in the wards protecting him. He kept the Dorian-scented cloth close as well, cuddling up with it at night so that he could embrace the musky comfort that the scent brought to him, even though he still shied away from acting on the implications of it. That small spark of hope that Dorian had prodded into being also bled through into other aspects of Cullen's life. He rearranged his sleeping area so that no trace of lyrium could be found, even going so far as to work with the healers to use a variant of one potion that had some lyrium in it for the last stage of his recovery.

Granted, that meant the sweats returned, and the shakes, and the irritability. It meant that even with the scented comfort of the cloth and the strengthened wards he would wake from sleep in the middle of the night and reach for the ghost of his lyrium kit, or writhe in pain because he needed something. It meant a return to occasional bouts of anger and tears, but, as he had before, he managed to keep it out of sight of others in the Inquisition-especially the soldiers. They deserved his best.

When he tried to settle back into a work routine, he found himself more restless than not. He found that when he sat too long on his ass, the song would creep into his head, especially the disjointed, eerie notes of the melody from the red lyrium. In those moments, he forced himself out of his chair, out of his office, and roamed the breadth and depths of Skyhold. It didn't make it better, but it made it harder to wallow in his own mind. That, and it provided good therapy for his recovering knee.

On one such stroll, as he stared out over the courtyard to observe his troops in their practice, he heard mail-clad boots approach from behind, and held out his hand in anticipation of a report. "Midday patrol, I presume?"

"Not quite, Commander."

Cullen blinked, then turned to face Ser Barris. "Knight-Commander Barris."

Barris offered a faint smile as he settled in to stand next to Cullen. "So you heard."

"Heard? Who do you think made the final recommendation? Your work at Adamant was exemplary, but it was only the crown of your efforts, not the whole of them." He held out his hand, but this time for a firm handshake. "I can't think of a better man for the job. I only wish I could have attended the ceremony."

After a moment, Barris took Cullen's entire forearm with his hand, giving it a firm shake as he put his hand on Cullen's shoulder. "I thank you, but there is another matter I wished to discuss."

"Oh?" Cullen turned towards him, canting his head slightly. "Is there something the Templars need? I'm sure it can be arranged."

"No, Commander. But there is something I wish to offer you." Pressing his hands together, he offered Cullen a shallow bow. "My apologies."

Cullen didn't play dumb or pretend not to know what Barris meant. "There's no need for that," he assured Barris quietly. "I should have told you long ago."

"I am still guilty in my role, intentional or not," Barris insisted. "But it is also more than that. The lyrium kit you found in your office came from one of my Templars, but he reported it missing before we ever went to Adamant. I should have told the Inquisition about it, but at the time it merely seemed to be an internal matter."

"Stolen, then," Cullen said softly, not surprised.

"Not just stolen, Commander. Tampered with," he explained. "We found a hollowed out compartment underneath the tools themselves, very cunningly crafted. It was Cole who showed it to us." Barris shifted on his feet, since he and his Templars felt the same ill at ease around Cole as Cullen did, then shook his head and opened the pouch at his waist. As he pulled out a kerchief and opened it on his palm, he said, "I'm not sure we would have found these, otherwise."

Cullen frowned as he looked at the objects in Barris' palm, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach as his Templar training came to the fore. "Is that-"

"A lock of your hair? At a guess, I'd say yes," Barris said with a nod. "And I daresay if we had a maleficar at our disposal, they would say the blood on the wool belongs to you as well. This wasn't an accident or a simple trap, Commander. This was a deliberate attempt of sabotage."

"Maker," Cullen breathed. "Blood magic?"

"Without a doubt, but with a very narrow focus." Barris met Cullen's gaze. "You."

Cullen took a deep breath as a cold sweat broke on his brow. Again, it wasn't a surprise, but the scope and nature of the attempt shook him. "Who knows about this?"

"Seeker Cassandra, of course. Cole. And Lady Vivienne performed the magical analysis," Barris told him.

"Good," Cullen said with a nod. "We can trust them. Who else?"

"Normally my duties would require me to report all maleficar activity to the Chantry, but…" Barris hesitated. "I leave it to your discretion. The Chantry is not very well disposed towards the Inquisition at the moment."

"Or its Inquisitor." Cullen frowned, then carefully wrapped the wretched things into the kerchief again before shoving the whole mess into his pocket. "I'll inform the Inquisitor myself. In the meantime, double the guard on the lyrium and keep an eye on your Templars."

Barris nodded as if he'd expected the order. "I already had Vivienne examine our stores, and she found nothing amiss."

"There's that, at least. We can have her do the same for incoming shipments." Cullen swore softly as he realized they would have to watch the production of healing potions as well, to make sure they were not tampered with-at least until they got to the bottom of this.

"Understood, Commander." Barris cracked his arm over his breastplate in a quick salute. "Any suspicious activity will be reported to you immediately."

"Thank you, Knight-Commander." Cullen mirrored the salute expertly. "Return to your duties."

"Yes, Ser." Turning crisply on his heel, Barris marched away, leaving Cullen to his own thoughts.

The first thing Cullen did was go to the main hall. With a cursory nod to Varric, he pulled the kerchief with its vile contents from his pockets and flung them into the fire. As Cullen watched them burn to ash, Varric asked, "Was the sneeze really that bad, Curly?"

Cullen chuckled and glanced at Varric, glad to find a spark of humor in the situation. "The worst, Varric."

"Remind me not to get near you when I have a cold," Varric noted, then tapped the curls of his chest hair as he added, "I have a few things about my person that are particularly flammable, and I'd prefer to keep them whole."

Cullen's burst of laughter helped to clear away the shadows of fear a bit, and he grinned at the dwarf. "Don't worry, I'd never deprive a man of his favorite equipment."

Varric chuckled. "I think those are a bit lower, Curly. But I appreciate the sentiment."

And now they needed a change of topic. Quickly. "Are you still hosting those weekly games of yours?"

"Sure, if your purse is feeling too heavy," Varric said with a shrug. "it's usually just me, Sparkler, and Bull. Sometimes Blackwall, but he's been holing up in the stable a lot more lately."

"Then it sounds like you need a fourth."

"The more the merrier," Varric said with a wink. "Next game is in three days, if you're still feeling up to it."

"I'll be there." He could use some normalcy in his life, and a night of drinks and gambling sounded almost as normal as he could get.

"Got it. See you then," Varric said with a wink.

With a nod, Cullen looked at the fire to make sure the last bit had burned to ash. Once that was confirmed, he turned and headed to the tower, hoping to find Charter.

It was time to learn just how much the Inquisition knew about Amell's activities.

In his search to find Charter, Cullen's path eventually led him to the war room, where he found his quarry in consultation with Cassandra. They both looked up when he entered, and Cassandra gestured him over to join them.

"Charter was updating me on the newest reports from our agents," Cassandra explained.

A frown came to Cullen's face as he crossed the room. "Has there been any word from Leliana?"

"Nothing of note, Commander," Charter told him. "Instructions from her on matters we should investigate, but little concerning what she herself is doing."

"Little doesn't mean nothing," Cullen pointed out. "Have you deciphered her message? Can I read it?"

"Of course." Charter sorted through the papers in front of them, then pulled it out and gave it to Cullen. "Her writing is on the front, and the deciphered message on the back."

Cullen flipped the paper over and quickly read through the message, then read the original, cryptic wording as well. "You're right, there's not much here. This came by wing?"

"Yes, Commander, this morning, from a station not far from Val Royeaux." Charter leaned forward and tapped on the map. "Here. I've sent a message back to them asking if they saw her themselves or if she simply slipped in and released the crow without being seen."

With a sigh, Cullen rubbed his forehead. "I wish we knew why she is being so secretive. I mean, besides the fact that she's the Spymaster." Shaking his head, he gave the paper back to Charter. "I did have a question for you, however. How much information on the Hero of Ferelden has the Inquisition's agents managed to gather?"

With a grimace, Charter looked down at the papers on the table. "The Spymaster left specific instructions about him and his companion, Arainai."

Cullen raised an eyebrow. "Which were?"

"Seek, but do not engage," Charter said. "And we are to be wary of Fereldan Grey Wardens as well, if we encounter any."

That made Cullen pause for a moment as he quickly shuffled through past reports in his head. "Huh. That's true, all the Grey Wardens we've dealt with have been from Orlais. And your agents haven't encountered any from Ferelden at all?"

Charter shook her head. "None up close. Even the Grey Wardens in Crestwood were Orlesian Wardens. One of my agents was feathered with an arrow by a man in Warden armor a couple of weeks ago in the Frostbacks, but then they couldn't follow the trail after that. It's like the Wardens have disappeared from Ferelden entirely."

Cullen's jaw rippled. "Not a good sign. What about Amaranthine?"

"According to Arl Teagan, the Keep at Amaranthine has been empty of Wardens for weeks now," Cassandra put in. "Leliana told Inquisitor Lavellan of this, which is one reason she sought out Warden Blackwall in the Hinterlands. But Inquisitor Lavellan chose not to pursue the matter further, and they have not posed a sufficient enough threat to the Inquisition since to warrant a diversion of resources."

"We might want to discuss that with the Inquisitor," Cullen mused. "Not posing an active threat doesn't mean they aren't working against us from the shadows. And given recent revelations about the Warden-Commander of Ferelden..." He let the thought trail away.

Cassandra frowned. "I see your point. Charter, please find the Inquisitor and request he come here."

"Right away, Seeker," Charter said, then gave Cullen a salute.

"The last I saw him, he was with Josephine and Morris in the quartermaster's office," Cullen told her. "If that meeting can be rescheduled, it might be a good idea to bring Josephine back as well."

"Yes, Commander." With a nod to Cassandra, Charter headed to the door.

"It never even occurred to me that Amell might have had something to do with the Wardens' disappearance in Ferelden," Cassandra admitted quietly after Charter had left.

Cullen grunted. "I don't think anyone could fault us for assigning fault for that to Corypheus, especially after Adamant. I wish we'd thought to ask Loghain or Alistair about it before-" Again the words wouldn't come out, and he sighed heavily. "Even then, Corypheus is still the most likely reason, based on what we know."

Cassandra gave him a sympathetic look. "If our Wardens weren't away dealing with the darkspawn horde in the Western Approach, we could ask them. But they will not be away forever."

"True," Cullen said, then reached up to rub his forehead again, fighting the odd ringing of the song between his ears.

"Are you all right?" Cassandra asked. "You've done that a few times since your arrival."

Forcing himself to stop and look at his hand, Cullen smiled wryly. "I hadn't realized. It's nothing, just a bit of an ache. Nothing like before," he added, knowing he needn't elaborate.

The line of concern faded from her forehead as she nodded. "You seem much improved since last we spoke," she noted. "Was the Inquisitor able to assist you?"

Cullen's eyes narrowed as he focused on her. "How did you-"

A twinkle came to her eyes. "There is a particular little smile which comes to his face when he sees you walk through the courtyard of late. I assumed that you had gone to see him."

That answer made his ears heat, and he settled back on his heels, arms crossed over his chest. "And you, Seeker?" he asked, deliberately not pursuing that line of discussion even knowing that would in no way diminish her curiosity. "Are you well?"

The veiled amusement faded from Cassandra's expression, and she glanced down at the papers on the table. "I am worried about Leliana," she admitted quietly.

"Her absence is concerning, yes," Cullen agreed.

"It is more than that." She raised her eyes to meet Cullen's gaze. "From what I have gathered, you have your own past with Amell, do you not?"

Shoulders tensing, Cullen forced his expression to remain neutral as he nodded. "He was in Kinloch Hold Circle, my first Templar assignment. His Harrowing was my first, in fact. And I was there during the Blight." He'd already told Cassandra in general terms what had happened in Kinloch Hold, of course, but he'd never told her anything relating to Amell. Even now, it was difficult to speak of it with anyone, and Dorian only knew more because he'd witnessed some of it in Cullen's dreams. "He was a blood mage even back then, though we knew it not. It wouldn't surprise me if he killed Uldred to cover a loose end. I learned years later that Uldred had been grooming maleficarum under our noses for years."

Cassandra gave a soft sigh. "Yes. And that influenced you at Kirkwall."

"I'd like to think I didn't see blood mages in every corner as Meredith did, but it certainly made me more inclined to follow her lead when she used it as a reason to act," he said with a grimace. "I'm not proud of how long it took me to realize that I excused her paranoia as reasonable caution. But Amell..." His voice trailed away as he looked aside, struggling with the words for a few moments. "I think he delighted in leaving his mark on people."

"I believe Leliana would agree with you," Cassandra mused. "Occasionally I would overhear her speak with Divine Justinia of Amell and how he made her suffer. Had he been anyone other than who he was, the Divine would have sent a troop of Templars to deal with him."

"But being a Grey Warden, and more than that, the Grey Warden who ended a Blight, means even the Divine couldn't risk it?" Cullen asked, hearing the bitterness in his own voice.

With a nod, Cassandra added, "Especially in the aftermath of the Blight, when the Grey Wardens were able to use the Blight's relatively swift ending as a bludgeon to re-establish their status in Thedas. All Divine Justinia could offer Leliana was the protection of the Chantry and the position of the Left Hand of the Divine."

"Which is no mean protection," Cullen pointed out.

"No. But learning that Inquisitor Lavellan was killed by Amell... I do not know how that affected Leliana, but I do know that she would see it as a failure on her part." The worry returned to her face as she glanced out the window. "Just as she saw Divine Justinia's death as a failure."

Cullen closed his eyes for a moment. "And we still don't know the cause of that explosion, either."

Cassandra grew still. "You don't think Amell..."

"Amell?" Cullen shuddered, though once the thought was in place, he knew it would linger in the back of his mind. "Maker, I hope not. Corypheus seems by far the more likely culprit for the explosion, and you told me of what you heard in the Temple of Sacred Ashes when you first went there with Mai-with Inquisitor Lavellan."

"Yes." After a moment or two of silence, Cassandra added, "I wish we knew the truth of what happened there, before the explosion. It still haunts me."

Reaching over to place his hand on her shoulder, Cullen squeezed it gently. "Perhaps one day we will learn the truth. Until then-"

"Until then," she interrupted, "we shall continue as we must." She gave him a little smile. "All of us."

He nodded as he pulled his hand back. "All of us."

Her head tilted as she considered him for a few moments, a faint furrow appearing between her brows. "Which one do you consider the more dangerous?"

"Which- Oh." He planted his hands on the table and stared down at the map. "We know that Corypheus has the Orb, and we know he seeks to become a god. He cannot be dismissed lightly."

"But?" she prompted.

He smiled ruefully, knowing that she knew him too well to not hear that unspoken thought. "But we don't know what Amell is truly after. And that... that frightens me." It was a bald statement, spoken quickly, but just saying the words made a chill run down his spine. "In the Fade, the Nightmare demon dangled a terrifying future with an Amell-turned-god in front of me, but I cannot know if that was my own fear or Amell's true ambitions. For all we know, what Amell seeks is worse than even that, hard as that may be to imagine."

Her hand landed on his, squeezing it tightly. "The Inquisition will not let them win," she swore. "Either of them."

Taking a deep breath, he tried to push the memory of his nightmares away and take strength in Cassandra's assurances. "You sound so certain."

"I am," Cassandra said firmly. "Yet perhaps if you can't place faith in my words, at least you can place faith in the Inquisitor, can you not?"

His glance instinctively turned to the door. As if in response to his gaze, the door opened wide and stayed that way, held open by Charter as she waited patiently for those behind her to pass through the portal. Dorian deferred to Jospehine with a cordial bow, waiting until she had passed through to straighten to his full height.

For the barest moment, as Dorian stood in a halo of sunlight pouring in through the broken wall of the hallway, Cullen felt a pulse of awe push through him. Inquisitor Dorian Pavus, Chosen of the Herald of Andraste... those weren't simply words. They were power, and a mandate, and a burden. And for that barest moment, Cullen forgot how to see beyond that to the man within, seeing only what the Inquisitor wished others to see.

And then their eyes met, and the titles fell away between them as Dorian smiled with a genuine warmth which stole Cullen's breath and invited a like response. He was the Inquisitor, but more importantly, he was Dorian -the man who had earned Cullen's faith even more surely than the Inquisition.

"Yes," Cullen said softly, and for Cassandra's ears alone. "I can."

As the Inquisitor stepped through the door, Cullen gave Cassandra's hand a final pat, then straightened. It was time for business, after all-a business with, Cullen privately allowed himself to admit, an impeccable view.

Especially when Dorian smiled.

The next day, as the sun was setting on the third day after his late night visit to Dorian, Cullen found himself staring blankly out of the window in his office across the foothills below. His chest was tight, and one hand gripped the hilt of his sword as if it were a lifeline. The anger was inchoate, but present, and when the wave burst, he ripped his sword from his scabbard and turned, driving the tip down into his desk with a precision which still found the center of a knot.

"Well," a voice said at the door cheerfully, "that's one way to make a hole to hold a quill."

Cullen looked up in surprise as a rush of embarrassment swept over him at his loss of control. "Inquisitor, I-"

"Ah, ah, ah," Dorian told him. "Don't apologize. I won't have it." As Dorian entered the room and closed the door before him, Cullen saw that he had a bag slung over his shoulder. "I'm going to assume you aren't mad at the foothills for existing, or the sun for going down, but do tell me if the truth is otherwise. The sun can be a cheeky bastard in the morning after I've had a bit too much wine, but I always assumed it leaves after a long day of showing its ass to recover a bit of its dignity."

A reluctant smile broke onto Cullen's face, and he laughed weakly at Dorian's description. "That is one of the silliest things I've heard you say," he admitted as he slumped down into his chair.

"Well, then obviously you need to spend more time with me," Dorian told him as he approached the desk. "Now. Care to tell me what that was really about, or would that prove too great a difficulty?"

Cullen's smile faded, and he looked down for a moment. "It's the lyrium. Well… it's the trying to let go of it. Again." The admission still hurt, a personal lapse he was too proud to blame on the Nightmare demon. "The song… it's dim, but in the quiet moments I hear it."

Dorian glanced to the orange sky outside the window. "The quiet moments when all the soldiers are at supper, the market is closed, and all you can hear is the deafening notes of it inside your head?"

Pulling the sword from the desk to slide home in its sheath, Cullen smiled wearily. "That's a far more poetic way to say it than I could manage, but yes. Exactly that."

"Then I am glad I came," Dorian said with a smile that reached his eyes.

The smile seemed to reach inside Cullen and warm him through, pulling one to his own lips in return. "Me, too."

"Then you won't mind that I brought you a present, yes?" With a flourish, Dorian swung the bag onto the desk, where it landed with a metallic thwump. "Here we are. The fruits of Dagna's labor over the last few days. It's fantastic, though I'm no expert in metallurgy."

Cullen's eyebrows rose, and he pushed himself to his feet as the spark of hope deep within grew. "Already?"

"She is a remarkably quick worker, yes," Dorian said as he pulled a pile of finely knit chain from the bag. "She says it's an alloy of stormheart and volcanic aurum, along with everything else, because that would somehow make it lighter and stronger both. I'll just take her word for it." He held it up, showing a shirt which seemed to change color in the flicker of the candlelight and the darkening light from outside. "Here, try it on."

"What, now?" Cullen asked, eyebrows rising.

"It's not like I haven't seen you without a shirt on before," Dorian reminded him with a laugh. "I promised her I'd tell her if it fit or not in exchange for you not having to strip down in the forge again."

Cullen had to chuckle at that. "A fair trade. All right." He walked around the table even as he pulled his fur mantle off and laid it on the desk.

"Your limp is almost gone," Dorian noted. "The healers told me that you're almost ready to return to full duties."

"Almost full duties," Cullen said as he removed his belt and scabbard and set it in his fur. "I can't quite fight yet, at least not against a true opponent. At least I can get back to yelling at the recruits."

"Telling them to get their shields up over and over again?" Dorian asked with a laugh.

"It's better than sitting behind my desk all day, feeling useless," Cullen said a bit more harshly than he meant to, emphasizing the momentary surge of emotion by practically ripping his shirt off over his head.

"Or thinking about things you can't have?" Dorian asked in a gentle tone.

Cullen glanced sharply at him. Did he mean… "That's… that's part of it," he said hesitantly.

"Lyrium is hard enough to resist," Dorian said in sympathy, moving close so he could put his hand on Cullen's shoulder. "I can't imagine the nightmare of dealing with red lyrium in the same way."

Oh. Lyrium. Of course. Then he didn't mean… Cullen looked down, not sure if he was disappointed or relieved. "Thank you," he said quietly, and meant it. "I don't know how I would have handled this without you."

"Tish tosh. Now," Dorian said, raising the mail shirt again. "Let's get this on, shall we?"

It took some maneuvering, but finally they managed to get the chain mail shirt over his head and shoulders. As Dagna had promised, it was a sleek fit, but not an overly tight one. She'd lined it with fine silk for comfort, for which Cullen was grateful. More importantly, however, as soon as it was on, the hint of the lyrium's song which had dogged his every waking moment for days on end simply... stopped.

His eyelids sagged shut as he leaned his head back with a sigh of relief. "Thank the Maker," he breathed.

"I presume that I may report a successful prototype to Dagna?" Dorian asked from behind him, tugging the last bit of it into place at the bottom.

"Hold on." Cullen took a deep breath and settled in to listen , to feel, to see if the respite was as total as he hoped. After a few long moments, he heard what could best be described as a memory of the corrupted song, but it was so dim that he could, at least, live with it. "I'm not sure how it will be long-term," he admitted. "But for now, at least, it's almost like being normal again."

"Surely you wouldn't wish to be so mundane, Commander," Dorian teased him. "You're far too interesting to be normal."

Cullen half-turned towards him, biting his lip when he saw Dorian's eyes flicker down in a way which seemed to indicate admiring the view. "I could say the same about you, Dorian," he murmured, the change to name rather than title quite deliberate as the little flame of hope tried to burn away his reticence. If Dagna could do this, a cure suddenly didn't seem so outlandish as it had even a few days ago.

Dorian smiled in response, then glanced upward. "I see you are using your new window," he observed.

A little surprised at the abrupt change in subject, Cullen followed his gaze. "I meant to thank you earlier. It's a simple answer to a simple problem."

"One you never let Mailani fix, as I recall," Dorian noted.

"She offered once, but the workers wanted to replace the whole roof." Cullen's brows tightened at the mere thought of it. "I told them it would take too long, and she never suggested it again. Why?"

"No particular reason," Dorian murmured. "Idle curiosity, hmm? Pay it no mind."

As Cullen puzzled over the odd comment, however, an abrupt image of Dorian's little nook in the library flashed through his mind, and his eyes widened. The nook wasn't just a place where Dorian could be surrounded by his beloved books, it was also the only place in the library right next to a window. "I never realized," Cullen whispered, only aware he'd spoken the words aloud once they hit his ears.

"Realized what, pray tell?" Dorian asked with a tilt of his head.

"You didn't choose your seat in the library by chance at all. You needed that window as much as I need my hole in the roof."

Dorian gave a heartfelt sigh. "I told Mailani when she first asked me that I needed it to compensate for the atrocious lighting in the library. She saw through that relatively quickly, considering I can conjure up better light for reading than even the sun can provide." He smiled sadly. "It took me a long time to admit the truth, even to her. I tend not to discuss it."

Fighting the urge to take Dorian's hand in his, Cullen said softly, "Tell me."

Dorian inhaled sharply and closed his eyes for a moment. "Perhaps we can take this conversation outside?"

Again caught off-guard by the deflection, Cullen murmured, "Of course. Whatever you wish, Inquisitor."

"Hmm, I wouldn't go that far yet," Dorian murmured as he opened his eyes and met Cullen's gaze with a smile. "It's just that I imagine the sunset is quite breathtaking at the moment."

That smile definitely had a certain breath-stealing quality about it, and Cullen found himself staring a moment before he cleared his throat and nodded. "There's, ah, a bit of the ramparts next to the door that blocks most of the wind. We could stand there." After a moment's hesitation, he finally offered his hand. "I could show you."

Without hesitation, Dorian accepted Cullen's offer, squeezing their hands together tightly. "I would quite like that."

"This way." Cullen headed to his north door, aware of just how close they were as he brought them to the sheltered nook which let them look out over the foothills below Skyhold. The sun hadn't quite reached the horizon yet, but it wasn't far off.

He settled his free hand onto the ramparts, drawing Dorian to his side by pulling their joined hands to rest there as well. Once there, he felt Dorian relax his hold. Any disappointment he might have felt at Dorian letting go vanished as he felt a hand settle on top of his. For a long moment, his attention focused almost completely on the way Dorian's fingertips played with the outline of his knuckles, until finally he cleared his throat. "Ah, we were-you were going to-" Maker, how could a simple touch be so damned arousing?

"Are you quite all right, Commander?"

The teasing in Dorian's tone brought a hint of heat to Cullen's face. "You're trying to distract me, aren't you? Not that I want you to stop," he added hastily. "It feels…" Marvelous. Delightful. Incredibly erotic. "...soothing."

"Soothing wasn't quite what I was going for," Dorian murmured, shifting a bit closer.

Cullen swallowed harshly. "Soothing, and maybe something more. But I'm not letting you wriggle out of this one," he said, as much for himself as for Dorian. "You want to tell me something, or you wouldn't have brought it up in the first place."

"True. I wouldn't." Dorian turned his gaze to look at the mountains beyond. "After Alexius and I parted ways as mentor and pupil, I didn't handle it very well. I became a drunken sot, to put it nicely. Eventually Father tracked me down-" Dorian's jaw rippled for a moment, and then his shoulders sagged. "And took me home, to Qarinus. And didn't let me leave."

Cullen frowned, concern replacing the heat as Dorian spoke. "For how long?"

Dorian closed his eyes for a long moment. "Weeks. Months. I lost track of the time, honestly."

"Months? " Cullen asked, incredulous. "Why?"

"Because I wouldn't dance to his tune. I refused to stop my indulgences, as he called them. I refused to wed a woman I had no liking for. Worse, I was unrepentant for any of my many sins, or for putting House Pavus in such a compromised position with my antics. So he took the last thing I had of value in my life: my freedom." An edge of anger stained his voice as he added, "And even that wasn't enough, in the end."

"That I remember," Cullen said softly. On impulse, he grasped Dorian's hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to Dorian's knuckles. "You deserve so much better."

The gesture made Dorian open his eyes and look at Cullen, lips easing into a smile. "Yes, well, that isn't a problem anymore, is it? I'm the Inquisitor now. He has even less power over me than he did the moment I finally managed to escape his clutches."

Cullen relaxed, glad to see Dorian's mood lighten. "It's good you realize that. I wish I could feel the same way about Amell," he admitted, a touch ruefully.

"Oh, well, that's perfectly understandable," Dorian said with a little shrug. "My father may be a cantankerous, powerful Magister who sought to completely rewrite my personality, but he is still no maleficar somniari regarded by Thedas as the Hero of the Fifth Blight because he struck down the Archdemon and lived. Both are creepy, but of entirely different orders of magnitude."

"Well, when you put it like that," Cullen said with a chuckle, turning so that he faced Dorian a bit more directly.

"Oh, but I do," Dorian said, turning around so that he could lean against the ramparts. "I get to do that, you know. Make declarations and all that. I am the Inquisitor, after all."

"Mmm, yes, I seem to recall that." As his thumb ran over Dorian's knuckles, he added, "Though you're not really the Inquisitor right now, are you? You're Dorian. That's all you ever need to be around me."

"Is it?" Dorian murmured. "I admit, I quite like the sound of that."

Cullen stepped a bit closer, his hand coming to rest on the rampart next to Dorian's waist. Maker, the man looked amazing even in twilight. "I… had a lot of time to think on the way back to Skyhold," he said softly.

The words didn't come easily, working as they were through a morass of emotion and thoughts that hadn't quite coalesced into words. His earlier concerns about what the red lyrium might mean to him, to his future, seemed to have dimmed with the donning of Dagna's armor. As the color of the horizon blazed into a mess of brilliant colors, Cullen realized just how much Dorian and he shared, an understanding so very different than any he'd shared with anyone else-even Mailani. It wasn't that it was better or deeper than what he'd felt for Mailani, but it was important to him, despite how long it had taken to bubble to the surface. Standing here on the ramparts, torso clad in an armor that worked miracles and speaking intimately with someone as he had once before so many months ago…

Somehow, it just seemed right.

"It must have been a rather boring trip back to Skyhold for you," Dorian murmured. His free hand moved to support himself on the ramparts, though that may have just been an excuse to settle it close enough to Cullen's hand that their fingers touched. "Seeing as I couldn't spend very much time with you."

"I admit, you were the highlight of each day, during the journey and thereafter." Touching wasn't enough, not for what Cullen intended, and he slowly slid his fingers up Dorian's arm. "And each night."

Dorian's eyebrow rose. "Now there you've lost me, I'm afraid, as I only recall the one night I ended up sprawled on my own couch."

Heart racing, Cullen shifted his hand to Dorian's side and slid it down to settle on the man's waist as he murmured, "It wasn't Mailani in my dreams, Dorian. Not those dreams, anyway."

Dorian's eyes widened for a moment, then darted down to linger on Cullen's lips before dancing back up to meet Cullen's intense gaze. "I wonder if perhaps you could provide a demonstration for the class? Father always said I was a slow learner."

Maker, please. "Oh, I want to-" he began in a husky voice, even as he leaned in.

"Commander!"

There were a few times when Jim's interruption had been unwelcome in the past, but usually Cullen could take them somewhat in stride. This time, however, Cullen assumed the full bearing of the Commander of the Inquisition Forces as he turned and snarled, "What?" with irritation so evident that Jim skidded to a halt a few feet away.

Swallowing, Jim bravely held up a piece of paper. "Um… Important message, ser, for the-"

Snatching it from Jim's fingers, Cullen gestured towards the stairs. "Yes, yes, message received, thank you. Now be on your way." As Jim fled, Cullen crumpled the piece of paper and turned back to Dorian.

Or to where Dorian had been, at any rate.

With a frown, Cullen turned around, looking desperately for some indication of where Dorian had gone. For a moment he wondered if, somehow, he had simply read the man wrong, that his attentions were unwelcome. Before the panic had a chance to grab hold, however, a horn sounded from the lookout tower announcing the arrival of important visitors. A shiver ran down Cullen's back, and he ran back to the ramparts and looked down at the long, winding road leading to the front door of Skyhold.

He saw the lights before anything else, moving in the dark of early night. His Templar instincts immediately sounded a silent alarm as he realized that the lights were not torches, but rather a veritable parade of wisps and mage lights keeping the night at bay. Armed warriors marched before and after the carriages, and even as Cullen watched, banners unfurled at the front of the procession to flap in the stiff breeze coming down from Skyhold. Cullen's eyes immediately went from evaluating the soldiers to deciphering the emblem now displayed.

"Maker," he breathed, suddenly understanding exactly why Dorian had vanished, and who the message had been for. Only one country sported a serpent on their regalia, after all.

It seemed that Magister Pavus had finally arrived.