Time is, ultimately, man's enemy.
Laying here in Cullen's bed as the late morning sun bathes him in its warm glow through the hole in the roof, Dorian can't help but think he finally understands why Alexius became so obsessed with time control.
Dorian flexes his outstretched hand, flung across Cullen's side of the bed, long cold. The Commander of the inquisition's armies has no time for sleeping in, not now, not with the date of their final push looming ever nearer. No matter how much he may wish, the seconds continue to tick by.
He feels it like he feels his heartbeat, like he feels his pulse in his neck and hears it pound in his ears. One more second closer to the final confrontation. One more heartbeat closer to what could be the end of everything he now holds dear. The possibilities are terrifying and leave him paralyzed in bed, staring up at the cobwebs between the rafters holding what's left of the roof above his head.
Eight days, he thinks, breathing deep and slow. Eight days until we toss the dice.
The thought chills him and he shivers, pulling the covers over his head and curling into himself. So many things can go wrong, so many of their plans could unravel in their hands and bring destruction down upon their heads. How many would die in this final attempt to kill Corypheus and seal the breach? How many lives cut short, how many orphaned children, widowed spouses? Elena, Varric, Cassandra, Bull, Cullen -
No, no, don't think about it. Don't contemplate it, don't even entertain the thought. Dorian has to swallow hard to force down the lump that's formed in his throat, squeeze his eyes tight against the tears that prick at their corners.
His heart beats; the seconds tick.
Its hours later that Dorian wakes, the edge of the bed dipping enough to pull him from his drowsy slumber. A headache pounds behind his eyes and in the back of his head and he groans, pushing his face further into his pillow.
A hand comes to rest on his head, fingers gently tangling in the hair on the back of his head, fingertips slowly massaging his scalp. The touch is enough to sooth some of the ache in his skull and he relaxes his body slowly. Dorian needn't open his eyes to see who it is, he knows these hands better than he knows his own, and he can't help but push his head back into Cullen's hand, forcing a bit more pressure to relieve his pain.
"Headache?" Cullen asks, his hand traveling lower to rub at the base of his skull, pushing into the tender flesh where head and neck connect. The only reply he gets is a groan and he chuckles. His lips press against Dorian's neck, feather light. "Probably because you slept too much."
"Sleeping is preferable to thinking," Dorian grumbles, and Cullen hums his agreement. With another groan Dorian finally rolls over to face Cullen and opens his eyes. He winces against the sunlight coming in through the window, his headache spiking. A hiss escapes his lips, and Cullen is pushing a vial of elfroot extract into his hand before he can turn away and bury himself under the blankets again. He pops the cork and dumps its contents into his mouth, swallowing it down hungrily despite the strong flavor. It's a mere seconds wait for it to take effect and once it does Dorian sighs and sits up, rubbing at his eyes and face. Maker, he doesn't want to be awake. He doesn't want to face reality, doesn't want to come to terms with the mortality of every person he loves.
He lowers his hands and looks at Cullen, who regards him quietly with an unreadable expression.
"What is it?" Dorian asks, fearful that Cullen comes with more news, more plans, more things to fall apart. But he doesn't say what it is, instead standing from the bed and offering a hand to help Dorian to his feet.
"There is something I wish to show you before…" He swallows, his eyes dart to the side before returning to Dorian's face. "Well, I have something to show you."
With a statement like that, Dorian isn't sure what to expect. But what he isn't expecting is for Cullen to take him to the stable and saddle two mounts, and certainly isn't expecting them to ride out of Skyhold down the mountainside towards the Hinterlands. Luckily Cullen had been kind enough to tell him to dress with an extra layer else the chill in the woods would have had Dorian shivering by now.
Even now, as they ride through trees and undergrowth, Dorian's heartbeat counts the seconds as they tick by. The eighth day is more than two-thirds gone, leaving only seven more until they march.
Focus, Dorian.
He turns his attention to the passing trees, the fog that curls between the trunks as the sun finally penetrates the leaves above and heats the cool air beneath. It's serene, even with the squawking birds and the snuffling nugs, and it does much to calm his nerves and soothe his frayed mind. Looking around also does well to remind him what it is he loves about the south, these wide expanses of nature barely tainted by human hands, places where a person could build a small home and leave the rest of the world behind with little fear of discovery.
Now, as more heartbeats pass him by, Dorian sees the appeal of living off the grid, hiding amongst the trees and living a simple life where the world's survival is a concern for someone bigger, someone greater.
His body sways gently with each step his mount takes and it lulls him into a gray sort of haze, the sort of haze where everything is bright but indistinct, where the only thing he really registers is Cullen's swaying back in front of him. They ride for hours like that, Cullen leading Dorian to who knows where. Their pace is relaxed, almost lazy, and Dorian wonders just where it is that Cullen's taking him.
Its a few hours later when Cullen comes to a stop, and Dorian guides his horse up beside his. Before them is a lake, whose surface looks like fire as the evening sun filters through the trees. Near them is a small boathouse with a dock jutting out over the water, and it's this that Cullen walks towards after dismounting, and Dorian follows.
Besides the sounds of wildlife in the distance and the chittering of insects, it's quiet, and fills Dorian with a sense of peace he hasn't had since Adamant. He takes a moment to breathe it all in, to let it fill his lungs and soak into his blood, and on his exhales out tensions he didn't know he was carrying.
Cullen's already at the edge of the dock, tugging his boots off and rolling up the legs of his trousers. Dorian watches with amusement as he sits and lets his feet dip into the water.
"No nasties to nibble at your little feetsies?" he asks, leaving his mount besides Cullen's and joining him on the dock, though he stands beside him instead of sitting. A small smile creeps onto his face when Cullen looks up at him and grins.
"What, afraid of losing your toes?" Cullen counters, nudging at Dorian's leg with his shoulder. "There's nothing in here big enough to hurt." Cullen pauses, his brows furrow. "Last time I checked, at least."
Dorian snorts but ultimately decides to humor Cullen in this and join him. He slips off his boots and socks before sitting down beside the other man, carefully sinking his feet into the opaque waters. He can't help but flinch at how cold the water is but it doesn't take long for him to adjust to the temperature difference, and soon he finds the flow of water between his toes and around his ankles relaxing. With a hum he wiggles his toes and leans back on his hands, tips his head back and closes his eyes.
This is… nice. Calm. Separated from the pressures and responsibilities of life. A respite from his ever growing anxieties. Seconds tick by but he doesn't take the time to count them, instead letting them flow like the faint currents wrapping around his ankles.
"Do you like it?" Cullen asks suddenly, and Dorian glances at him as he contemplates his answer. Cullen looks eager, hopeful.
"I do," he states simply, but he wants to know more. "How did you find this place?"
"I came here often as a child to escape my siblings - mostly my sisters." Cullen stares off into the distance with a fond smile as he speaks as he recalls those childhood days, and Dorian can't help but feel a little jealous that Cullen got to grow up with siblings, but doesn't interrupt him as he speaks. It's not often that Cullen talks of the past, and it's even less often that the past he speaks of isn't bathed in pain and blood.
"They liked to make fun of me for wanting to be a templar, especially since Mia was a fair bit stronger than me. She chased me with sticks whenever she had the chance, yelling 'Templars don't get beat up by their sisters!'" Cullen chuckles and Dorian does as well, amused by the mental image of a little Cullen fleeing from a stick-wielding little girl. It's so wonderfully domestic, so normal and natural, without the trappings of the social 'elite'. Dorian wants to know more, but doesn't press for information.
Instead he says, "It sounds like it was a lovely time."
"It really was." Cullen sighs and kicks his feet, splashing water. "I haven't been back here since the day I left for templar training, but I always think about it when it seems like everything is becoming too much. Sometimes it's nice to get away from it all and remember what life is like when the world isn't burning."
"As if the world ever stops burning," Dorian jokes, nudging Cullen's shoulder with his own; the Commander huffs a laugh and nudges him back before pressing his side against his, leaning against him and taking his hand in his. Instinctively their fingers lace together and Cullen regards their hands for a moment before speaking again.
"On my last day before being shipped off to the chantry, my brother gave me a coin. He said it was for luck, and wanted me to carry it so I would make it through templar training in one piece and lead a good life." Cullen fishes into his pocket with his free hand and pulls out this coin he speaks of..
It's a simple sovereign, worn smooth with age. Cullen's thumb is already rubbing along the back of the coin, which tells Dorian just how it became so smooth. It's clear that Cullen's played with this coin often, probably in times of trouble as a tether to his family and loved ones.
Dorian can't help but wonder why it is that Cullen's telling him this, but Cullen answers that question for him before he need pose it.
"I know it's silly, and I know this thing doesn't really bring any luck, but…" He holds out the coin now, offering it to Dorian. "If you would indulge me and keep it for a while, at least until the final battle is over…" Cullen pauses, his gaze wandering away across the lake as his cheeks flush. "It would put me at ease."
Dorian stares at the proffered coin in Cullen's hand for a long moment before slowly lifting his free hand and taking it in his fingers. The coin is warm from where it's been pressed against Cullen's body, and feels just as smooth as it looks, and feels lighter than the normal sovereign. Just how much of the gold has been worn away by Cullen's fingers? How often does he hold this coin in his hand, run his fingers along the edges, clutch it tightly in his fist until it leaves indents in his palm?
And Cullen is just going to offer it to him as if it has no real significance, as if it's something to be passed around and not a precious thing from his childhood that carried him to this point. Dorian has nothing to give him in return, nothing to signify how much Cullen means to him in the same way that Cullen has.
The silence between the stretches as Dorian fumbles with his thoughts and emotions and Cullen stares resolutely out over the water. He opens his mouth once, twice, thrice, but no words form, and Cullen finally speaks to fill the void. "If you don't want to take it -"
"No!" Dorian nearly shouts, closing his fingers around the coin, feeling it pinch at the tender flesh of his palm. "No, I want to keep it," he says, slower and quieter, more to himself than to Cullen. "I just…"
The waning sunlight glints off his signet ring.
Ah.
Untangling his hand from Cullen's, Dorian stores the lucky coin in a pocket before twisting his signet ring off of his middle finger. The crest of House Pavus stares up at him as he holds the ring in his fingers, twisting it slowly. "No matter what I do with this ring," he starts, glancing at Cullen to make sure he has his attention, "It ends up coming back to me." The most recent time with Elena's intervention, yes, but that's neither here nor there.
He holds out his free hand and wiggles his fingers with a soft smile until Cullen takes the hint and tentatively puts his hand in Dorian's. He looks both confused and curious, and Dorian's just as curious about what he's about to do. None of this is planned, but…
It feels right.
Carefully, Dorian lifts Cullen's middle finger and eases the ring onto the digit. It stops short at the second knuckle, too small to go further. Dorian frowns and mutters under his breath before trying the index finger, but comes to the same result. How are Cullen's fingers so thick compared to his when they look to be the same size?
"Fasta vass," he hisses and Cullen chuckles at his annoyance. "Hush you," he snaps, but it's without heat as he tries Cullen's third finger. Thankfully the ring slips over his knuckle with little resistance, and fits snug enough that it won't wiggle off without a little effort. Satisfied, Dorian rubs circles into Cullen's palm with his thumb and admires how nice his ring looks on his finger.
"I'm expecting this back at some point, mind you." Dorian watches Cullen's face to see his reaction. The smile that blooms on Cullen's face as he looks down at his hand fills Dorian with warmth, from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes still submerged in the cool lake water. He leans in close and whispers conspiratorially, "Perhaps if you're good, I'll get you one of your own. But only if you bring this one back to me."
Cullen laughs and wraps his arms around Dorian, pulling him in so close he may as well be sitting in his lap. Dorian relaxes into Cullen's embrace, tucking himself into Cullen's side so neatly they may as well be one person. They sit like that as the sun sets, Dorian rubbing the coin between his fingers, Cullen twisting the ring on his finger. It isn't until the moon begins to rise that they separate, putting their boots back on and returning to Skyhold with their tokens.