As he ascended the stairs into the courtyard, Dorian fixed a smile on his face. Amiable, yes, but also one which didn't specifically invite intrusion. It wasn't so dissimilar from his normal expression so as to invite speculation, or so he hoped, but also enough to ensure he could proceed to his quarters without interruption. It proved to be effective, and he closed the door of his suite behind him with a sigh of relief. He'd also noted the complete lack of Tevinter robes as he'd proceeded through the hall, and silently prayed that Josephine had worked her own version of magic to keep the delegation occupied, especially his father. Dorian couldn't bear the thought of facing him at this particular moment, or Maevaris with her sharp eyes and keen mind. He just wanted to be alone for a while.

Well, almost alone. And that was part of his worry.

On the one hand, Cullen remained his dearest friend. Over the months, they'd learned how to communicate in ways that almost seemed to transcend words, and Cullen had shown it in their brief encounter in the jail despite the distance between them. Concern, care, caution: that had all been communicated through nothing more than the subtleties of his expression and the set of his shoulders. There was no one he trusted more than Cullen by now, not even Felix or Maevaris. Cullen had proven himself to be a firm foundation in their friendship, and… and possibly more.

On the other hand, Dorian had no clue what to say when Cullen arrived. How did one casually discuss whatever had happened down there?

Mind whirling, he pushed himself away from the door and headed up the stairs towards his quarters. Eventually he found his way to the couch and flung himself into it with a loud sigh, burying his face in his hands for a moment. His mind whirled as he forced himself to relive his outburst moment by moment, poking and prodding at the memory to figure out what had happened. Bad enough he had threatened the man with Tranquility or an eternity in stone, but to then hold him over a waterfall and revel in the man's fear? No, that was too far.

Over and over again, no matter how he tried to frame the matter, every analysis ended with him contemplating if he truly could have dropped Livius to his doom without any remorse. And every time he concluded that he could not. He knew the difference between vengeance and justice, after all, and that would not have been justice. Indeed, there was really only one word for those who killed outside the chaos of battle and the order of the court.

Murderer.

Eventually he realized that his thoughts kept running in circles over old ground and decided that he needed some liquid assistance. With a groan, he pushed himself up from the couch, deciding that a thorough investigation of his sideboard was in order.

As he stood in front of it in contemplation of the choice of drinks, he heard the door open without a knock, and instinctively straightened. Mentally he followed the footsteps as they climbed the stairs, waiting until his guest had reached the final landing before speaking without looking. "I suspect you have questions."

"A few."

Dorian blinked and quickly turned towards his visitor, a quick flash of guilt swarming over him as he saw Felix standing at the top of the stairs with his mandolin in his hands. "I see the Commander spoke with you."

"Among others." Felix frowned as his brow furrowed. "I didn't realize I would get examined by a committee."

Dorian's face softened as that flash of guilt returned with more strength. "I'm sorry, Felix. I know you wanted to keep this a secret, but… well… we've had some problems of late with Grey Wardens. Problems involving demons and worse than demons."

"Worse? What's worse than demons?" Felix asked skeptically.

"An army of demons," Dorian said, then sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "And a Nightmare of a demon powerful enough to control that army, working with Corypheus."

Again Felix's forehead wrinkled. "And the Grey Wardens enter into this how?"

"That is a long, thirsty tale, my friend," Dorian said with a groan, then gestured Felix to follow him to the couch. "And it all started in Crestwood, when my predecessor met a rather rapscallion ruffian by the name of Alistair."

From there Dorian told Felix in a bit more detail just what had happened, though he kept the telling to its bare bones for brevity's sake-even going so far as to omit the fact they'd gone physically into the Fade. That detail he'd prefer to remain strictly within the Inquisition for as long as possible, and for the moment that meant he couldn't tell Felix.

Finally, he settled back and made a vague gesture as he said, "And that is why I told the Commander, and why I gave my blessing for the committee. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to tell you, but I thought it best he talk to you while the Magisters were otherwise preoccupied."

"True," Felix mused. "Though I suppose there's no real reason to keep hidden from them any longer. I hid mostly because I didn't want to be sent back before I saw you, and… well." He smiled faintly. "I have."

"I did promise not to tell anyone, and I did," Dorian said, still feeling a bit sheepish about it. "And I do apologize for that."

Felix considered Dorian for a moment, then leaned forward and took one of Dorian's hands in his own. "Thank you. But you're right. Now that I know a bit more, I can see why me appearing out of nowhere with an association with the Grey Wardens would seem suspicious. Certainly I would endure worse scrutiny at home or in Val Royeaux. So…" Looking down at the mandolin in his lap, he lifted it and held it out to Dorian. "Take it back."

"Are you sure?"

"Completely." He suddenly grinned. "Besides, it would look odd if a mandolin most people here associate with you were to suddenly turn up in the Tevinter apartments."

"Ah. Excellent point." Taking the instrument with the care it deserved, Dorian smiled down at it. "I must say there were some dark hours soothed with its sweet song, and will be ahead." As quickly as it had come to his face, however, it faded before the pressure of the rising turbulence within, making his breath catch in his throat as he struggled to keep the pain and rage from showing on his face. Abruptly he pushed himself to his feet and moved to the desk, gently laying down the mandolin with shaking hands before pressing them flat onto the desk as he bowed his head.

"Dorian?" Footsteps crossed the room behind him before a hand fell on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Dorian forced himself to pull in his scattered thoughts. He didn't have time to fall apart, regardless of... well, everything. His mother, his dreams, even his emotions-they all rolled into one large pile of powerlessness, at a time when the Inquisitor could not afford even the illusion of weakness, much less the actuality.

And Felix, Maker bless him, would not understand that. Alexius hadn't been nearly as exacting in his demands of his son as Halward had, despite the fact that both families belonged to the Magisterium. Beyond that, Felix had only ever seen the Inquisition and its leader from the outside, much the same as Dorian had before he had joined its ranks. His friend could offer a shoulder in support, and Dorian appreciated that more than he could ever say, but it the fact remained that Dorian needed something else besides a sympathetic shoulder.

Or perhaps, deep down, Dorian knew he needed someone else.

Straightening, Dorian turned to give Felix as strong an attempt at a smile as he could manage. "Something my father told me, that's all."

Felix frowned. "I remember Father getting frustrated with him sometimes, with how he treated you. They used to exchange letters about your progress, you know."

"I recall," Dorian noted, trying to push away the disappointment which had always resulted from those conversations. "My father was never a very research-oriented sort. He used to tell Alexius that we should stop wasting our time with the impossible and concentrate on the practical."

"Yes. Mother used to roll her eyes whenever Father mentioned that, as I recall."

A small smile came to Dorian's face at that, since he remembered that as well. "Did I ever tell you how much I adored your mother?" he asked Felix.

"Good. I'm glad." Felix reached out and settled his hands on Dorian's shoulders. "You were like a second son to her, Dorian."

Dorian felt a sheen of moisture rise, and quickly blinked it away. "Livia was a remarkable woman," he said, forcing himself to speak around the lump forming in his throat.

Sorrow came to Felix's face as he nodded slowly. "She was. I... I miss her, every day."

Wincing, Dorian reached up to take Felix's hands in his own. "I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about-"

"No. No, it's all right, Dorian." Felix gave him a weak smile of his own. "I'd... I'd like to, at least a little. I haven't been able to talk about either of them. No one else would understand. No one else was there to see..." He swallowed harshly and looked down. "To see what happened to Father."

"I remember," Dorian whispered. "It was hard enough for me. I can only imagine how difficult it was for you."

"It wasn't easy, watching Father tear himself apart to try to save me," Felix admitted. "Especially knowing that part of his obsession was due to the fact he'd lost Mother permanently. Considering everything that's happened, it's hard not to feel..." For a few moments, Felix tried to search for the right words. "Responsible, I suppose."

"You?" Dorian blinked. "How could you be in any way responsible?"

"They were only traveling because of me. Maybe if I'd come north on my own for the holidays, or even stayed in Val Royeaux to study instead of visiting, my mother would still be alive." Felix sighed and bowed his head. "And Father wouldn't have helped to unleash a madman on the world."

Dorian swallowed harshly, a chill running down his spine as he saw an echo of his own guilt and grief in Felix. As much as he wanted to simply pull Felix into a hug and tell him that he was in no way responsible for Livia's death or what Alexius had wrought, he didn't get much farther than a tight embrace before his words failed him. It could not be denied that Dorian carried a measure of guilt himself, both for his own mother's fate as well as for Alexius.

After all, If I'd done something differently, perhaps my mother would still be alive very much accurately reflected the vortex of guilt and pain swirling inside of Dorian even now.

With a deep breath, Dorian released Felix and set his hands on his friend's arms, deliberately echoing Felix's own stance earlier. "You think I don't feel a bit of that same guilt? For months after that last argument I had with Alexius, I felt guilty for deserting him, deserting you. I saw the same obsession that you did, and in the end, I ran from it. I'm not proud of that fact, and a part of me will always wonder if perhaps I could have persuaded him back to sanity if I'd just stayed a little bit longer."

Shaking his head, Felix said, "I remember that fight, Dorian. You were angry at him, yes, but he wasn't listening. Not to you, or to me. Nothing we said could have changed his mind. I-I wish it could have been otherwise." Felix took a shaking breath. "All I wanted was to spend what time I had left with my father. He didn't have to save me to show that he loved me. I would give anything for another night in front of the fire with him, or even just another conversation where we didn't talk about what he had to do to fix me." For a moment, a haunted look came to Felix's face. "There are worse things than death."

"I know." Dorian pulled Felix into another tight hug. "And I wish you'd never had to experience any of them."

Felix squeezed Dorian tightly in return. "I know."

For a few moments they remained that way, but finally Felix released Dorian and pulled back. "Thank you, Dorian. I didn't realize how much I needed a friend again."

"A friend who exposed you to question via committee," Dorian reminded him, still feeling a trifle guilty about that as well.

"No, don't worry about that. It hurt only because I thought it meant you didn't really care. Now..." Felix tilted his head. "Now I know you did it because you do care-about quite a few people." Suddenly a grin came to his face. "It's almost like you're-"

"Don't say it," Dorian said, a mock-frown coming to his face as he saw where Felix was heading.

"Growing up," Felix said, then laughed as Dorian pressed the back of his hand to his forehead.

"Betrayed by my own friend!" Dorian said in despair. "I'll have you know I'm as much as a wastrel now as I was before."

A corner of Felix's mouth curved upwards. "Except you're not, and you know it. You only fall back into those habits when you're not happy, or when you have nothing to lose. And that's not true right now, is it?"

A bit surprised at Felix's rather astute observation, Dorian blinked a few times as he tried to muster up a response. "That's hardly any of your business," he finally muttered, not quite ready to wrestle with the full implications of his friend's words.

"I'm glad you've found a home in the Inquisition, Dorian. I truly am." Face turning thoughtful, Felix pursed his lips as he scrutinized Dorian's face for a moment. "It's odd. I never really thought about how much I've placed my life on hold until now."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You're... doing things. Taking risks. Making decisions. Living your life again. And I think it's time for me to do the same. I'd gotten so used to wondering when I would die that I forgot I had plans for the future once. Even if those plans have to include the Grey Wardens now, at least it is a future." Putting a hand on Dorian's shoulder, he said, "I'm going to go talk to Magister Tilani. I think it's time to come out of the shadows and find my own path."

"Yes, well, do allow her some time to recover from the surprise that the rumors of your death were greatly exaggerated," Dorian told Felix with a dry chuckle. "I'm rather fond of her, after all."

"I'll keep that in mind," Felix said with a laugh. "Thank you, Dorian." When Dorian started to demur, Felix held up a finger in warning. "You're the Inquisitor. It's perfectly acceptable for people to be inspired by you, and I'm afraid you're simply going to have to deal with it."

Squirming away from the idea of being an inspiration, Dorian scowled at Felix. "I shouldn't be forced to endure this egregious act of unadulterated adulation, you know."

Felix smirked, completely unrepentant of his crimes. "I'm sure it is an incredible burden, all these weighty compliments. I'll have to keep that in mind next time I see you."

"See that you do," Dorian said loftily, then laughed and pulled Felix into a fierce, albeit brief, hug. "I'm glad you're back. It's nice when something goes right for a change. You always were the best of us."

That earned him a measuring look. "I'm not so sure that's true anymore," Felix observed. "I'd better get going, though. I'm overdue for a talk with Magister Tilani."

"Do give Mae my regards, would you?" Dorian made the request in a light tone, but mostly that was to cover up his confusion about Felix's comment. As Felix departed, however, the puzzlement remained. What did Felix mean, that wasn't true anymore?

Shaking his head, Dorian took a deep breath and let his head fall back so he could stare blankly at the ceiling. The conversation with Felix had proven quite a successful distraction, and one welcomed by Dorian all the more for its success, but in the end, it was only that: a distraction. Things hadn't really changed. Certainly he had gained some perspective on a few matters, but that didn't make the pain go away, or his actions in the jail any more explicable.

That didn't make the fear he'd seen in Cullen's eyes any less terrifying.

With a shudder, Dorian moved to stand in front of the array of drinks available to him, pondering which one he should start with and wondering how many he could finish before the Commander arrived. Deciding to stay with the tried and true, Dorian poured himself a healthy measure of brandy, then brought the glass to his lips. Before he could take a sip, however, he heard the door open once more.

Mouth suddenly dry, he set the drink on the table and bowed his head as he once more tracked the movement of his visitor, mentally counting the steps until they reached the bottom of the final flight of stairs. Only then did he turn and face the man whose arrival he both dreaded and desired.

Cullen paused where he stood, bathed in the sunlight from the window behind him, and Dorian couldn't help but tilt his head at the sight of it. The man's dark golden hair glowed like a beacon, the backlight accentuating his broad shoulders and military bearing. Whether it was intentional or not, Dorian let himself freely admit just how much he enjoyed looking at the man, even though he knew that his need for Cullen exceeded simply enjoying the view.

And that worried him. Especially after what he'd seen in Cullen's eyes.

"Commander," he said, breaking the silence with what he hoped was a welcoming smile. "Do join me. I won't bite, I promise."

Cullen chuckled as he stepped forward, leaving the sunlight behind. "Are you sure?"

"Why, Commander." Pressing a hand to his chest, Dorian followed Cullen's cue by keeping the tone light, though he found he had to keep using the man's title as a shield. "Are you concerned that I will, or that I won't?"

Without answering the question, Cullen closed the distance between them and reached up to take Dorian's face between his hands. Taken by surprise, Dorian remained silent as Cullen scrutinized his face closely, turning it this way and that until finally he asked, "Are you all right?"

And, in that moment, looking into those warm eyes and seeing the depth of Cullen's concern for him, Dorian knew that he could not lie, not to him. "No," he whispered. "I'm not."

Cullen reached down to take Dorian's hands in his own. "Cole told me I had to find you, that a hole had opened up deep inside of you. What happened?"

"I'm not sure, honestly." Unable to meet Cullen's gaze, Dorian turned his head away. "But I do know I would have let go if you hadn't stopped me."

"The man was an agent of Corypheus whose actions almost unleashed a demon army upon Thedas," Cullen reminded him. "Speaking as an ex-Templar, I can't say the man hasn't earned such a fate."

"Death by waterfall?" Dorian asked, eyebrow rising.

"It would have gotten the job done," Cullen said.

"Then why stop me?"

Cullen frowned, searching Dorian's face for a few long moments. "Because I wasn't sure you wouldn't regret it later."

Dorian swallowed, then forced himself to ask, "And that's the only reason?"

The words hung between them until Cullen finally shook his head. "No. Not the only reason. Tell me, what do you remember?"

"Too much for comfort, but not enough for comprehension, I think." Dorian closed his eyes for a moment. "What did you see that I could not?"

He felt fingers find his face with a controlled strength, drawing invisible lines on his cheeks and forehead. "I saw a pattern of white light tinged with green here and here, and your eyes shone the same color. Your mark glowed as well, pulsing like a heart. It was only for a few seconds, while you held Erimond over the waterfall, but it was long enough." The touch fell away. "It frightened me."

Dorian shuddered at the image Cullen conjured with his words. "I can see why Livius lost his nerve."

"Judging from the expression on his face, he probably lost control of his bowels," Cullen said wryly.

Laughing despite his better judgment, Dorian shook his head. "I can't say he didn't deserve it."

"Nor I," Cullen noted with a chuckle, but in the next moment, his voice had turned serious again. "So you don't know what came over you?"

"No." When he heard cloth rustle, he opened his eyes to find a thoughtful look on Cullen's face. "I have some vague ideas, but little more."

Cullen's brows drew together. "All right, then maybe we should talk a bit about why you were in the jail in the first place. You hadn't gone to see Servis since arrived , and he's been here longer than Livius. What changed?"

Dorian's mouth immediately went dry, and he turned back to face the drinks. "I'm not sure I can talk about it yet."

As he reached for the glass of brandy, however, hands fell on his shoulder and gently turned him around to face Cullen once more. "Dorian," he said softly, the name falling from his lips with a tenderness which made Dorian's eyes well up. Reaching down, Cullen took Dorian's hand and placed it in the middle of his chest, squeezing it gently. "You know I am here for you. I won't force you to do anything, but if you need to talk, know that I am at your command."

That careful caress proved to be Dorian's undoing. The pain and anger rose from where he had shoved them deep down, desperate to avoid them forever, bursting forth with a vengeance that made Dorian's hands clench into angry balls of fury even as the tears lingering on his eyelids spilled down his cheeks.

WIthout a word, Cullen wrapped his arms around Dorian and held him tightly. "I'm here for you," he repeated firmly. "Never doubt that."

With a nod, Dorian forced himself to speak. "I spoke with my father after the negotiations. He told me…" Squeezing his eyes shut, he took a deep breath, then forced himself to continue. The words came out as he freed them from within, carrying the debilitating effect of the emotions away with them and leaving only exhaustion in their wake as he spoke of learning of his mother's death, and of Erimond's potential involvement in it.

Throughout the ordeal, Dorian felt the constant strength of Cullen's presence quietly but firmly offering support as Dorian fought and twisted and wrestled with his inner turmoil, trying to externalise it so he could both examine it and make sure he never lost control because of it again. In the end, he felt hollow and weary, but also lighter and more focused than he had since rising from his bed. For a long moment he closed his eyes and rested his head on Cullen's shoulder, feeling calmer than he had all day.

"Thank you," he whispered at last, unable to find the words to fully express the depth of that gratitude.

"I will always be here for you," Cullen murmured. "Remember that."

Dorian nodded slowly, truly believing the words for the first time. He'd never allowed himself to be so vulnerable with anyone, having been taught that vulnerability was itself a weakness, just as emotion itself was, in many ways, a weakness. After taking another slow, deep breath, he said, "As you wish. Then I think I'm ready to talk about what happened down there."

"It certainly seems connected to your emotional state," Cullen observed. "I've seen enough mages in training to know how strong the link between emotion and magic can be when it's powerful enough."

Reluctantly Dorian pulled away from Cullen as he opened his eyes, unsure of what he would find on the other man's face. When he found only concern, he relaxed slightly and forced himself to consider what Cullen had described to him about the incident in the jail. Given the green light, a theory did spring immediately to mind, and it was easier to tell Cullen of that one than the one which followed on its heels. "From what you told me, what with the green light in evidence, I can't help but wonder if it's some odd manifestation of the Anchor. We don't know what it can do, after all, and even Solas said that it might manifest in different ways after what happened in the Fade."

"That is a possibility," he agreed, but Dorian heard the doubt in his voice, saw the calculation on his face. As had happened in the past, Dorian was struck by the way the man didn't just listen, but analyzed. It was a quality Dorian held in high esteem in others, and one reason why he and Bull had become such good friends despite all cultural reasons to the contrary. "Though I can't help but think there's more to it than that. I mean, the Anchor's caused unexpected things to happen, certainly, but it has always been in the form of magic and energy, not the mind. Mailani was always Mailani, and you…" He paused, leaving the rest unspoken.

Dorian winced and looked away. "I was not myself."

"No. And that worries me," Cullen admitted.

"I presume tales of abominations are dancing in your head?" Dorian asked, trying to keep it light. "A common story here in the South, from what I gather."

He'd expected Cullen to chide him for making light of such a possibility, or for downplaying the idea. He was surprised when Cullen instead cupped Dorian's chin in one hand and gently brought Dorian's face around so that Cullen could meet his gaze. "You must really be worried."

Dorian searched Cullen's eyes, looking for a hint of fear or judgment, and found none. "You know me far too well," he murmured.

"Someone has to," Cullen pointed out.

"Touché." Dorian realized distantly that one of his hands had sought the warmth of Cullen's mantle, and idly began to twine the fur around his fingers. "I don't really need to give voice to some of the other possibilities, do I? I'm sure they're at least anecdotally familiar to the both of us, given what we are."

"The Templar and the mage." Suddenly a smirk came to Cullen's lips. "We sound like one of Varric's books, when you put it like that."

"Oh, Maker, no," Dorian groaned, then laughed. "Can you imagine? Cassandra pressing a book to her bosom after reading about our first-" He stopped, then hastily cleared his throat. "Ah. This has gone rather far afield. I only meant that we both know what to think when a mage starts to act strangely."

Cullen's brows gathered together, and his eyes hardened slightly. "I can't accept that. Not of you. I won't have it."

"So fierce, Commander," Dorian murmured, then bit his lip as Cullen leaned in and pressed their foreheads together.

"You told me we would find a way to save me from the red lyrium, and I believed you," Cullen whispered, each word brushing Dorian's lips with a pulse of hot breath. When Dorian nodded wordlessly, he continued, "Then believe me when I say that there is nothing that will prevent me from protecting you."

"You're sure about that?" Dorian asked, then closed his eyes and shivered as Cullen worked his fingers into Dorian's hair and stroked Dorian's ear with his thumb.

"I will do whatever must be done," Cullen told him in a firm tone. "I will not lose you. Not to your father, not to a demon, and not to death."

Dorian dared to settle his hand on Cullen's neck, his fingertips playing with the loose ends of Cullen's hair. "You are glorious," he breathed.

"I am your Commander." Dorian felt Cullen's hand shift down so that he could use his thumb to tip Dorian's head up ever so slightly, forcing their gazes to meet as Dorian slowly opened his eyes. "And I will protect you."

Dorian blinked slowly once, then twice, unable to pull his eyes away from Cullen's face, from the stubbornly endearing line between his eyebrows, or from the set determination in his compressed lips. The rest of the world didn't matter, he realized, nor the whispers of those in the hall outside-not when it came to this. It didn't matter what his father thought he should do, or what the Magisterium made of his ascension to Inquisitor. It didn't matter that Cullen's future remained clouded, and that Dorian's strange dreams hinted at matters to which no mage dared admit. The only thing which mattered... stood right in front of him.

Cullen opened his mouth to continue, but Dorian refused to wait one more moment. Sinking both hands into that blasted fur mantle, he tugged Cullen close until their lips met. He let his eyes flutter shut as Dorian waited for the man's moment of surprise to turn into a reaction, for good or ill. His heart skipped a beat as Cullen's hands dropped to rest on Dorian's hips, pulling them into undeniable intimacy as Cullen returned the kiss in equal measure.

The kiss remained tender and brief, despite-or perhaps due to-the sheer strength of the emotions which preceded it. That first kiss, however, led to another, and then a third, all lingering, sinfully delicious caresses which acknowledged what had grown between them without delving too deep into what it meant beyond the moment. When their lips finally parted, Dorian lifted his eyes to meet Cullen's gaze with a tender smile on his face. "And I am your Inquisitor."

That maddening, cocky little half-smile came to Cullen's lips as he murmured, "I know."

Dorian leaned his head on Cullen's shoulder, grateful for the man's strength and heart. For some reason, even the way the fur of his mantle teased his mustache was endearing at the moment. "Thank you."

"For?" Cullen asked, letting his head rest lightly atop Dorian's hair.

"Being a friend. Being here." He settled his arms around Cullen's waist and closed his eyes. "Being you."

"I will always be here for you," Cullen said with a soft fervency which nevertheless warmed Dorian all over. "Without hesitation."

Dorian took a deep breath, then released it slowly. "Good. Because that's precisely what I need."

He never knew how long they stood there in the quiet of his suite, drenched in the warmth of the sun and the heat of each other's bodies. It didn't matter, really, considering the perfection of the moment. The cares and concerns of the world fell away, leaving the two men in a little circle of sorely needed peace. Whatever awaited them could wait for a while longer as they savored the confession they'd made to each other in ways that words could not convey.

But perfection could not last forever. Eventually, they were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat in the most delicate manner possible.

The next few moments were a comedy of startled coughs mixed in with one or two splutters as the two men quickly separated, to the evident amusement of the woman standing at the top of the stairs. When Dorian and Cullen had sorted themselves out to something somewhat presentable while studiously avoiding each other's gaze, Dorian drew himself to his full height and glared at her. "I suppose you enjoyed that."

"I am sorry for interrupting, Inquisitor," Josephine said, though the subtle lift of one corner of her mouth told the lie of those words. "But some matters have come to our attention that I thought you should know. When you did not answer the door, I thought to leave a note."

"A note." Dorian's eyes narrowed, trying to decide if he believed her or not. Surely someone had seen Cullen enter.

Josephine nodded, expression a picture of innocence. "Cassandra went looking for the Commander, but I presume she will shortly return to the War Room when she does not find him in his office."

"Oh, marvelous," Dorian drawled, even as Cullen sighed and buried his face in his hands. "Well. Why don't you go find her, hmm? We'll be along shortly."

"Of course, Inquisitor," Josephine said, her face completely and utterly diplomatic-save for the nearly constant twitch of amusement in one corner of her mouth. Dorian only saw it because he was looking for it, so hopefully no one else would notice. "I shall see you soon."

Once she had left, Dorian shook his head and turned towards Cullen. "I wonder if Cassandra will-"

He never got to finish the sentence. Abruptly Cullen seized a double handful of buckles and hauled him close, claiming Dorian's lips with his in a primal kiss which stole both Dorian's breath and his senses. As Dorian floated in a haze of sudden heat, Cullen's hands sank into his hair, pulling Dorian even closer as he deepened the kiss. Dorian's eyes fluttered shut, losing himself fully in the moment and honestly unable to do much more than moan ever so softly into Cullen's mouth.

When their lips parted at last, Dorian had to take a few moments to catch his breath as he tried-and somewhat succeeded-to collect his bearings. "I see you enjoy playing with fire, Commander."

Cullen's lips curved into that Maker-be-damned smirk of his. "I've been wanting to do that since before your father arrived. Leave it to family to interrupt you at the worst possible time."

Dorian couldn't help but laugh. "He has a history of that, I'll admit." The warmth still in his eyes and heart, Dorian set his hands on Cullen's hips and leaned in for another, more gentle kiss. "Still, we'd better be going, or I fear Josephine might return and find us in an even more compromising position."

"If it's not one family, it's another," Cullen groaned. "All right. Let's go find out what's so important, then. And it had better be good."

"Fittings."

"Yes, Inquisitor," Josephine said, her expression and demeanor breathtakingly earnest.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Dorian assumed as polite an expression as he could muster while still maintaining a displeased air. "You sought me out because you wish to arrange fittings for our dress uniforms. Simply that? No other reason?"

"Our departure to the Winter Palace fast approaches, Inquisitor. It is imperative that we all look our best for the masquerade," Josephine said, again with that all-too-perfect sincerity emanating from the entirety of her being.

"I thought we were going to tell him about the information from the Magisters," Cassandra said, brow furrowing.

Josephine tapped her pen on her cheek. "Oh, of course! How silly of me. That is of course why I wished to look for you. Do forgive me, Inquisitor."

Cullen and Dorian exchanged a resigned look as Josephine looked down at her ledger. "Naturally, my lady," Dorian assured her. "We all have our moments, after all."

Offering Dorian a warm smile which wasn't quite enough to distract him from seeing the mischievous twinkle in her eyes, Josephine tugged a piece of paper from her ledger and pushed it across the table. "I concluded the first part of the negotiations with Magister Tilani. They have offered us some compelling aid to assist in our endeavors, in exchange for herself and Magister Pavus to go with us to the Winter Palace."

Dorian paused in the act of reaching for the paper. "They want to go to the masquerade? I know Mae enjoys parties, but I wouldn't have thought she'd travel halfway across Thedas just to go to an Orlesian ball."

"She said that their agents had learned of a plot against the Empress, and grew concerned that a Tevinter element involved in the death of the Empress of Orlais could have negative consequences for the Imperium." As Dorian studied her notes and frowned, she continued, "Their best information indicates that the largest danger lies in Celene's own family. Unfortunately, one of those suspected is our own sponsor to the Masquerade."

"Duke Gaspard? Ah, family." Dorian gave a little laugh. "Naturally. Who better to kill you than your own kith and kin, hmm? Still, that's a bit more than we've managed to glean, if it is true. And if Gaspard is the one doing the plotting, he may be trying to set the Inquisition up for a fall. As it stands, that seems to be a reasonable request from the sneaky Vints. I'll look over the details of what they've offered in return, but for now, I'll trust your judgment." He folded the paper and put it into his pouch. "I suppose they wish to be there in case of magical impropriety?"

Josephine inclined her head. "Indeed, Inquisitor. To offset suspicions, they will present themselves as Orlesian supporters of the Inquisition. One of Magister Tilani's scholars is quite well versed in the etiquette and protocol of Orlais, and will assist them during the masquerade as necessary."

Ah. That would be Felix. His friend had attended the University of Orlais, after all, and would best know how to translate the rules of the Orlesian Game into terms members of the Magisterium would understand. "I would also suggest putting Vivienne with them in the carriage on the way to the Winter Palace," Dorian mused. "It would be good for the Magisters to hear her perspective as former Court Enchanter. Besides, I have a feeling that Vivienne and Magister Tilani will take a certain liking to each other."

"An excellent idea, Inquisitor." Her pen moved to make note of the matter in her ledger. "However, if we could return to the matter of the fittings..."

"Somehow I knew you would," Dorian said with good humor. "Very well. When is the tailor available?"

Before Josephine could answer, Cullen grunted sourly. "Dress uniforms. I can't say I'm looking forward to spending an entire evening in ribbons and lace."

"Whatever gave you the notion that you're going to be shoved into that sort of monstrosity?" Dorian asked, surprised.

"That's what they wear in the hall," Cullen noted. "The nobles, I mean. Apparently it's necessary to look your finest while you gossip."

Josephine covered her mouth with the end of her quill, the corners of her eyes crinkling with hidden laughter as Cassandra made a disgusted noise. "I agree with Cullen. The warriors should be allowed to wear what is practical. We are anticipating a fight, after all."

"Ah, but we cannot show that we are," Dorian reminded her. "We must appear poised and beautiful and perfect. We are guests of honor to witness the heralding of a new dawn in the Empire of Orlais. As such, we cannot afford to draw any suspicions to the true reason we are there. It will be difficult enough for me to find the freedom to discover the identity of Corypheus' agent at the court as it is."

Cullen heaved a sigh. "Are ribbons and lace the only option?"

"I should hope not," Dorian declared. "I unleashed Vivienne on the uniforms because quite frankly, I refuse to let a quartermaster design such a pivotal attire for us. I gave her the final approval before we left for Adamant, and I know we will look our finest. A moderation of lace, perhaps, and one or two ribbons, but they help to disguise the practicality beneath the surface."

"What did the quartermaster come up with first?" Cassandra asked curiously. "I've rarely seen such a look of disdain on your face."

"Oh, some red and blue monstrosities." Dorian shuddered and shook his head. "No. I refused. The man has his uses, but fashion design is not one of them."

"Thank the Maker," Josephine breathed fervently.

"So, the fittings?" Dorian prompted her.

"Ah, yes." Josephine consulted her ledger. "I have in fact already arranged the times for you."

As Josephine gave them the details, Dorian's eyes wandered over to Cullen, trying to imagine him in something besides fur and metal. Something form-fitting across those broad shoulders would do wonders, of course, but he was most looking forward to the trousers. Tight below the waist was the fashion for men in Orlais this season, after all, and Vivienne was nothing if not fashionable.

"-agreeable to you, Inquisitor?"

Dorian blinked and turned his attention back to Josephine quickly. "Ah, yes. Tomorrow morning. Capital." When Josephine and Cassandra exchanged an amused glance, he cleared his throat and sought a quick diversion. "A pity Leliana will not be joining us. She is Orlesian, after all."

And, incredibly, it worked, though he did feel a trifle guilty about the worry which replaced their amusement. "There is always hope, Inquisitor. We simply have to have faith in her," Josephine noted. "I will arrange to bring her dress uniform with us, just in case."

Dorian smiled gently. "A good idea, my lady. Now, I think we all have our tasks to do, so I will leave you to it and attend to mine."

"As you wish, Inquisitor," Josephine said, then turned to Cassandra without skipping a beat and added, "Lady Seeker, I would appreciate a moment of your time in my office, if you can spare it."

Cassandra proved to be slower on the uptake. "Well, I do need to speak with the-" Then she blinked and looked between Cullen and Dorian for a moment. "Ah. Of course, Ambassador," she said hastily. "I am at your immediate disposal."

With a serene nod, Josephine herded Cassandra from the room with a bright smile, closing the door firmly behind her as they left the two men to blink at the closed door for a moment. Dorian's eyebrow rose when he heard the faint sounds of a giggle from the other side. "Maker, I hope that was Josephine. I simply cannot imagine that sound coming from Cassandra."

Cullen broke the silence with a soft chuckle as he awkwardly rubbed at his neck. "I… suppose that means they approve?"

"Approve of- Oh." Dorian glanced at the door, then looked at Cullen, a little smirk coming to his face. "Well. One less thing to worry about, then."

"Out of all the things on our plates right now, I'll admit, it's nice to know we don't have to worry about sneaking around like adolescents," Cullen admitted.

"Quite." For a moment, Dorian fell silent, letting the warmth rise to his eyes as their gazes met. "Commander."

One corner of Cullen's mouth curved upward. "Inquisitor."

Slowly Dorian set into motion, moving around the table towards Cullen with his fingers trailing along the surface of the polished wood. "We seem to be quite alone."

"So it would seem," Cullen murmured, stepping away from the table as Dorian moved closer.

Dorian came to a halt in front of Cullen, though he didn't press in too close. "Perhaps we could continue our discussion from earlier?"

Cullen chuckled softly and reached up to cup Dorian's neck with one of his hands. As his thumb caressed Dorian's ear, he murmured, "Do you really have to ask?" Before Dorian could respond, he claimed Dorian's lips in a lingering kiss.

Dorian's eyes closed as he placed his hands on Cullen's hips and leaned in, letting himself learn how the man felt and acted in these quiet moments of passion. Despite the man's endearing shyness when teased, there was nothing at all shy about the way he used his lips and tongue, or the way he slowly drew his fingernails along Dorian's scalp in a way that made the mage shiver. When their lips finally parted, Dorian slowly opened his eyes and met Cullen's gaze with a smile. "Thank you," he murmured.

"I think you already said that," Cullen said with gentle humor.

"Perhaps, but it needed to be said again, I think." He leaned his head onto Cullen's shoulder once more. "Hold me."

Strong arms immediately wrapped around him, cradling him close. "Always," Cullen whispered into Dorian's ear.

The word made a wistful smile come to Dorian's lips, but he didn't comment. Instead he simply let himself savor the moment, however brief it might be. Already thoughts of the outside world hedged around him, of things he still had to say, or do, or decide. He still hadn't told Cullen of his mother's fate or the strange dreams, after all, and the approach of their journey to the Winter Palace-and all that came with it-weighed heavily on his mind.

But for the moment, he wanted to hold on to this perfection as long as he possibly could.