"Welcome back," said Dorian. He sat up on the couch, where he'd been dozing by the look of it. He smoothed his hands through his hair and blinked. "That was a faster meeting than I expected."

"Did you know what they were going to tell me?" asked Cullen in a deceptively mild voice. He'd considered going back to the War Table, but what was the point? Yelling at them wouldn't change anything. Cassandra was the one he needed to talk to.

The mage winced. "Not with any specificity. But given the ambassador's comprehensive and terrifying new campaign to weave the Inquisition into the very fabric of Thedas, and what they'd discussed with my own self, I suspected," he said.

Cullen glared. Dorian, for all he was Tevinter, a mage, and utterly dismissive of anything serious, was a friend. It surprised Cullen how betrayed he felt by the man's silence.

"So who are they asking you to marry?" asked Dorian.

"Me?" Cullen blinked. "No one. Maker's breath, I can't even imagine." He snorted. "Besides, I'm not sure my name would garner much interest in the strongholds they look to capture. Josephine emphasized my appeal among the common man."

"More likely they simply knew you'd refuse," said Dorian. "You always were the sensible one of us all. But the Commander of the Inquisition is a valuable piece on the chess board. I'll be very surprised if she leaves you to molder."

Cullen sat in the chair across from the mage with a sigh. "Commander is just a title. I can resign it whenever I choose. It's not something I was born to," he said. Not like royal blood.

"Yes, that would explain it. You are so prone to cutting away the things that displease you. And the best dictatorships never gamble with their popular and effective military leader," said Dorian. He grew serious. "What's the trouble, then?"

"Cassandra," said Cullen. He closed his eyes against the fresh wave of anger and pain. It wasn't that she didn't love him. He was certain of that, if nothing else. No, it was how easily she could set it aside when asked. And the terror of how far she might really be willing to go, in the end. If she could do this with such a light heart, why not more? His stomach twisted and rebelled against the thought.

"Ah. Of course, she's Nevarran royalty, isn't she? Somehow it's hard to remember that about a woman you've seen slice people's heads off so efficiently. Well, when it's by her own hand, anyway," said Dorian.

Cullen didn't smile. "They said you'd agreed to an Imperial alliance," he said. He opened his eyes and pinned the man with his gaze. "Would you really marry a woman just to serve this cause? Someone you didn't love?"

The mage shifted a little. They'd never spoken explicitly about his preference for men, though it was hardly a secret. Cullen suspected he was simply used to leaving it unsaid rather than feeling any concern about a Fereldan's reaction. But Cullen needed to understand the mind of someone who'd been raised to rule. The Imperium had no royalty, but Dorian was the closest thing to it.

"If I did, it wouldn't be for the Inquisition, as precious as I find you all. My country needs a healer. They are on the precipice of change, and I, for one, wish it to be a change for the better," said Dorain. "I believe I could do that. And I love Tevinter, though you southern barbarians find so much to despise in it."

Cullen said nothing, and Dorian raised his hand in apology. "Achieving that goal, being the instrument of change, will be vastly simpler with a wife from the old guard. I'm charming, of course, and I can win anyone over given enough time, but proof of my adherence to the old while ushering in the new would go a long way," he said.

"But you wouldn't love her," said Cullen.

The other man shrugged. "Nor she I, most likely. Love is something I've never felt with anyone, man or woman," he said. He smiled a little at Cullen's sound of disbelief. "Attraction, to be sure. And infatuations, young fancies that were no more substantial than the wind on the air. And I'll admit those certainly never found their way to any women of my acquaintance. But if love is something beyond me, then marriage may not be. In fact, it might be simpler that way."

He shook his head. "At least my father will be happy about that, even if his legacy can still go hang." Dorian leaned over across the table and gently touched Cullen's knee. "To answer your question, yes, I might marry where I don't love, if it were the right marriage. I have nothing else to compare it to, and perhaps wedded bliss would not be so grave as all that. However, your lady never would. She knows love. And she is much too romantic to marry for advantage in the light of that knowledge."

Cullen was grudgingly agreeing when a knock came at the open door. He turned to see a runner from the gates. "Commander, the new company from Ferelden is here. Their captain requests to speak with you. And he wishes to know where the rest of his soldiers can settle themselves," said the woman.

"Tell him that they will quarter leeward of the walls, in the empty space beside the tanner, until another squad leaves on patrol," said Cullen. "And send him up."

She saluted in acknowledgment and ran off. Cullen turned to stand and saw Dorian unabashedly grooming himself. He raised his eyebrows, and Dorian paused in the artistic tousling of his hair. "I may be considering a marriage of convenience, but I am not yet wed or dead, Commander. I prefer to give any new members of the Inquisition a proper welcome," he said, but his smile was more hesitant than usual. "However, shall I leave you to your captain?"

"No, I'd like to see how he reacts to a Tevinter presence," said Cullen. He walked to his desk and settled himself behind it. "If you don't mind."

Dorian brightened. "Not at all."

When the door opened, the scene was nicely set. Cullen scribbled with a focus that was only partially faked, and Dorian sat on the couch, playing with a crackle of lightning around his fingers. Every Templar instinct Cullen had was screaming at him to control such a careless mage, so an unprepared soldier was likely to be even more startled.

But when the voice came, it was smooth and unafraid. "Commander Rutherford?"

Cullen looked up slowly, trying to clear his mind of expectations and judge the man honestly. His own instincts were solid, when he allowed them to surface, but he'd never mastered overcoming a pre-conceived idea.

In this case, he was pleased. The man was medium-height and dark, only a few years younger than himself, and with a weather-beaten face that spoke to experience in the field, not just in the fancy mail. Though his face was properly blank, there were lines around his eyes that showed good humor outside of service. Most importantly, he kept the mage in his sightlines while maintaining a deferential pose to his new commander. Not an easy task.

Cullen stood. "You must be Captain Flynn, courtesy of King Alistair. Welcome to the Inquisition," he said. The man saluted, and Cullen returned it. "I'm Commander Rutherford, as you guessed, and this is Dorian Pavus, of Tevinter."

"Tevinter?" asked the captain in broad Fereldan accents. He narrowed his eyes at them both. "I thought there was a war on with the Imperium."

"Wars seem to end quickly with the Commander in charge," said Dorian with a laugh. The energy around his fingers vanished, and he leaned forward with a wicked grin. "Captain. Fereldan geography and anthropology is a hobby of mine, and I pride myself that I can tell the origin of its citizens to the nearest village with only a look. Will you indulge me?"

The captain shrugged, but a light smile played around his lips. Cullen looked at them both in turn. Dorian hated Ferelden. The last time Ellana had gone to the Hinterlands, he'd practically chained himself to the gate in an effort to stay at Skyhold.

Neither man seemed to notice his confusion. Dorian tapped a finger to his chin. "Based on your nose, certainly somewhere in the south. Your shoulders speak to a nearby lake, but the slight tilt of your left index finger indicates a neighboring mountain range. The west of Ferelden then. And of course, your hips reveal volumes about you, Captain," he said. Cullen was close to cutting in, to ask where this was going, when Dorian added, "Honnleath. Almost definitely. Am I correct?"

Cullen crossed his arms and sighed. "Dorian, I know you consider us provincial, but not everyone from Ferelden is from the same village," he said. He looked back to the captain to apologize for whatever insults his friend's game might have given, but instead of the scowl he expected, the man's face was creased with a broad grin.

"Exactly correct, messere. I applaud your extraordinary insight into my homeland, though I suspect you're as full of shit as the sties we Fereldans are said to live in," he said. He paused. "Also, I'm not sure Cullen's quite caught up with events."

That last part was certainly right. He rubbed a hand over his forehead and waited for something to make sense. Anything.

Dorian shrugged and crossed his legs. "He looks exactly like your sister, you know."

As if she'd been summoned by the spell of his words, a figure flew through the door. "Darren?" asked Mia.

Darren his brother? Cullen gaped as the man in front of him collapsed into laughter and threw his arms around Mia. "Hello, my dear. Here I am, as promised. A few more dents and scratches, but nothing disfiguring."

"That's certainly true, " said Dorian.

His sister leaned back and swatted the captain who wasn't a captain across the arm. "Don't joke about that," she said, but she was smiling like a proud mother. "Oh, look at you. So handsome!"

"Again, I find myself in complete agreement," said Dorian with a slow smile. "Your siblings are quite intelligent, Commander. So, brains, brawn, and beauty. It seems I've unfairly maligned your country all this time."

"To be fair, the Rutherfords have always been above average," said Darren. "Though my brother has most cruelly raised expectations for the rest of us. I'll never match his height, and I've only made it to Sergeant so far."

"Perhaps in brawn he's uncatchable, but in brains and beauty I think there's room for a spirited debate on the winner," said Dorian. "Which I can assure you will occur at the tavern later this evening."

That was quite enough. "Everyone stop," said Cullen, injecting his voice with his best battlefield thunder. In this instance the audience was less than impressed - Mia put her hands on her hips, Dorian smothered a laugh, and Darren just looked nonplussed - but it did get everyone to stop talking and look at him. He turned his gaze on Darren. "You said you were Captain Flynn."

His brother grinned, then, and it was Alice's trouble on a male face. "No, you said I must be. Who am I to argue with my Commander? Or my older brother, for that matter," he said. He sobered a little when Cullen didn't relax. "Please don't blame the captain for this. I knew he was nervous about meeting you, and I told him that you'd enjoy the joke."

Dorian choked back another laugh, and even Mia snorted. Darren crossed his arms. "Well, perhaps I exaggerated. The stories of your stoicism are legend. But we live in hope," he said. "One of these days they'll tell a new story, about the time the great Commander Rutherford cracked a smile."

"I smile plenty," he muttered, but no one was listening.

"Believe it or not, in comparison to his lady, he's the comedian of the army," said Dorian. Mia gave the mage a disapproving look but didn't disagree.

Darren's face lit up. "Ah yes, the lovely Cassandra. Do I get to meet her? Please say yes. I'm dying of curiosity."

Cullen's heart sank. Of all the days for a family gathering in his office, plus one Seeker, this wasn't it. He didn't know if she was angry with him or not. He didn't know if he was angry with her. What they needed was a week alone, not a few hours navigating the minefield of the full Rutherford contingent. Even he wasn't sure if he was ready for that. They hadn't all been together since he'd left for Kinloch twenty years ago, and clearly Mia and Darren were operating on a completely different level of information than he was.

"How do you even know about her?" he asked.

"He's a much better correspondent than you," said Mia. "So he is rewarded with information."

Which explained why he hadn't known Darren was in the new company. His mouth twisted sourly, but Mia looked unrepentant. She had absolutely no sentimental feelings for a brother to work on in some matters. Mostly in the matters where she was sure she was dispensing the universe's justice.

Dorian stood and stepped forward. "Why don't I leave you to your family business? I can locate your children and husband," he said, nodding to Mia, "as well as Alice."

"Just follow the trail of aggravation for the last," said Cullen. "And tell her she owes me a new pair of pants."

His siblings perked up as the mage laughed. "Of course."

"And don't forget Cassandra," said Darren. "She's basically family, too, from what Mia says."

"I could never forget such a lady," said Dorian, but he slanted a quick look at Cullen. He nodded slightly. What possible reason could he give for excluding her?

Mia held up a hand. "Why not invite your girlfriend as well, Darren? The nice one in your company you wrote about a few months ago?"

"Oh, that ended awhile ago. She met a blacksmith in a western town and resigned her commission on the spot. I threw his last-night-single party," said Darren. Mia sighed unhappily, but his brother cocked an eyebrow at Dorian. "Think there'll be anyone of interest at your tavern debate tonight?"

"Besides myself? I'm sure we can unearth a few souls," he said. He sailed out of the room with a wave.

"Interesting allies you have, Cullen," said Darren. He stretched out on the newly vacated couch. "Now, what did Alice do with your pants?"

In the end Alice, as well as Mia's husband Brandon and their children, showed up well before Cassandra, and they had plenty of time for a family reunion that wasn't fraught with a secret wife who was preparing to negotiate her marriage to another man. Which, to his annoyance, made his life sound ludicrous, even inside his own head. Still, Cullen suspected the reprieve was by Dorian's design and made a note to send him a bottle of wine for his trouble. Ellana would know what he liked.

So he was grateful for that, and that he didn't have to say much. Beyond Alice's arrival with a pair of yellow checkered tights straight out of Sera's collection - his "replacement pants", she said - he'd never been less in the spotlight. Peter, Katrine and Alistair peppered their younger uncle with questions and begged for his opinion on everything under the sun. Unlike Cullen, Darren had visited home regularly while he served. Cullen had left at thirteen and returned at thirty-three, a stranger. Darren held familiarity to them that he couldn't match, even now.

Mia was no less interested in talk, interrogating him mercilessly about the last meeting his brother had attended with the King, even though Darren argued that standing in the same room with a man for fifteen minutes while other people talked hardly counted as a personal connection. Their older sister didn't care. She would have interrogated a person who'd simply walked through Denerim's market if it would give her a new insight into their sovereign's life, though Cullen had never understood her fascination. King Alistair was a good man, as royalty went, but his wife, the former Lady Cousland, was by far the more impressive of the pair.

All of this settled over him easily enough, and Cullen was content to listen. The ache only came with Alice, and the old stories they all laughed over that were new to him. Alice had been four when Cullen joined the Templars, mere background noise to her older siblings. Clearly in the years after he was gone they'd formed a new unit. One that didn't include him. Even Brandon knew their lives better than he did.

He tried not to be bitter and mostly succeeded. It had been his choice, his need, to leave, and it wasn't their fault he'd done so. But on this, of all days, to feel a stranger among his own family was a hard tonic to swallow. But still, an hour later he was almost persuaded to smile at their memories of Honnleath summers, harvests, and plantings, and he remembered along with them picking and eating apples until they were sick. He was on the verge of contributing a memory of his own, the time their mother had chased a sparrow through the house with a shovel, when the door opened and Cassandra finally came in.

The words died on his lips as he looked at her, trying to gauge her mood. She didn't seem surprised by the number of people in the room, thank the Maker, but other than that he could read nothing in her face. She might have been there to tell him it had all been a mistake or to move all of her things back to her room over the armory immediately. The fact that he couldn't tell paralyzed him, even as the eyes he loved so dearly roved over his face. He knew he should rise, go to her, introduce her, but he sat instead and did nothing at all.

Alice had no such compunctions. "Cassandra!" she cried. "I was beginning to worry you weren't coming."

"Forgive me," she said, focusing on his family. "Dorian only found me a few minutes ago. But I don't mean to interrupt."

She sounded more uncertain than he'd heard her in a long time, but his younger sister didn't seem to notice. "Don't be an idiot! You're practically family yourself by now," she said.

At that, Cassandra glanced at him again, and he tried to keep his face as neutral as hers. He'd made his move. She knew his feelings on the matter. He would take his cues from her.

Alice added with teasing grin, "Though I had heard rumors of a fight this morning. I'm sure it was his fault, whatever it was, and I'm glad it hasn't soured you on us."

Cullen started, then, and a blush spread across his cheeks. What was he supposed to say to that? It was truth and lie, all in one, and this was no time to get into the intricacies of things imperfectly known and not at all understood.

Mia lifted a questioning eyebrow in his direction, and he gave her the most convincing smile he could muster. If anything that made her more concerned, but Cassandra was already murmuring quiet dissent about a fight. She didn't look at all discomposed, but she didn't look at him either. The air in the room grew thick and awkward, and Cullen tried to come up with something, anything, to say.

Alice spoke once again, in a slightly more confused tone, "Since Cullen seems to have lost his voice, I'll do the introductions. Cassandra, meet my other, much handsomer brother Darren."

Katrine giggled as Darren rose with a flourish. "Lady Pentaghast, I'm so happy to meet you at last. You're as beautiful as they say. And any woman with the fortitude to love a stick-in-the-mud like Cullen must be a force of nature," he said. He bowed over her hand in a mockery of Orlesian manners. He added in a stage whisper, "If you tire of him, just let me know. I'm at your service, my lady."

He grinned and his sisters laughed, but Cullen barely heard them. Jealousy roared through his veins, less at his brother and more at the faceless, nameless men who would come with the same pretty speeches and words, the gestures and flattery. Darren wasn't serious. They would be. And Cassandra was rolling her eyes and answering with a half-smile that burned him, and it was all more than he could take.

Cullen stood, grabbed his heavy fur cloak and moved to the side door in a few quick movements. "I'm sorry, time has gotten away from me. I have some business to take care of," he called over his shoulder. Even that many words took an effort that nearly killed him.

"Cullen, come on, I was kidding!" said Darren.

Cullen flung open the door and left without looking back.