Chapter Ten: The Suffering of Templars

It was awkward.

It was always awkward between them, and Cullen couldn't understand why. Oh, he knew what it was on his end—for some unfathomable reason, his lyrium-withdrawal-induced-obsession had fixated on her, creating lustful urges wherever she was concerned. Uncomfortable, true, but manageable and easily avoided; all he had to do was keep at least eight inches of daylight between them. And though sometimes he spoke without thinking, he had been able to cover his slips of the tongue with a few made-up-on-the-spot explanations. Awkward, but sufficient.

Peredura, however, seemed ill at ease around him as well, and he could never figure out why she sometimes seemed hopeful, sometimes disappointed, sometimes angered, sometimes frustrated…

He supposed it must be due to her becoming Inquisitor, the extra stress in her life, giving her all those womanly emotions and what not.

Speaking of which, "There is a matter I should discuss with you, now that you are Inquisitor."

Peredura took a deep breath, asking herself for the hundredth time what in the Fade was she doing! Originally she had wanted to speak with Cullen about the Inquisition forces, see if there was anything she needed to know, now that she was in charge. The title of Inquisitor fit on her shoulders like a bulky set of armor, but she was determined to learn her role and perform it to the best of her ability.

But she kept messing up. Instead of talking about how many they'd lost since Haven, she had said how glad she was that he had made it, having to quickly correct herself to include the others. Instead of discussing the repairs here at Skyhold, she had ended up talking about the view from the top of the battlements, and a silly fear that she might fall off the unfinished edge. Instead of asking if there were enough supplies, she had asked him if there was anything she could get for him, the next time she went to the Hinterlands or Val Royeaux.

Of course, Cullen hadn't helped matters, either, leaving her without any clue as to what he was thinking or feeling or might have meant to say. When talking about surviving Haven, he had simply and ambiguously agreed. When talking about Skyhold, he had vowed that he would personally see to her safety. And just now, when talking about supplies, he had glanced off to the side, as if he was hiding something from her, or trying to decide whether or not to say it.

Maker, but this was frustrating! She wished… she wished… she wished she could just come out and say what she wanted to say, tell him how she felt, how she hoped he felt, but she had no idea what words to use. How does one tell another that they are, er, not in love, really, not yet, but definitely feeling something about another and hoping it may someday become… Oh, kaffas!

She could only stand there and pray, please, Maker, please, let Cullen say it first.

Then he spoke, "It is of a… personal nature."

Peredura's heart did a funny little flip, like it had forgotten how to beat in a regular fashion and had decided that flopping around like a fish out of water would work just as well as a steady thrub-dub. Oh, Maker, could her untutored prayer be answered this quickly, this easily?

Cullen saw the smile suddenly appear, pulling her bottom lip from her teeth, and yet again he had no idea what had caused the unexpected reaction.

"Oh, um, yes, of course… Cullen."

Or why she had grown informal and used his name, rather than his title. She was beginning to fall into that category of giggly girls, the ones that liked to flock around him and flutter their eyes and talk of nonsense. He had never associated Peredura with that group of females; though uneducated and inexperienced, she had shown a remarkable and refreshing dearth of silliness. Until recently. He glanced towards the main gate, briefly entertaining the idea of making a run for it, but knew he'd have to persevere. "If we could step over this way," he began, sweeping his hand to indicate a nearby corner of the courtyard that was empty of people, due in large part to the pile of rubble filling it. She nodded and walked beside him, thankfully quiet, but unfortunately with that strange smile on her face. He had admit, the smile did lighten her features, dim the harshness of her scarring, warm the deep brown of her eyes, but it's unknowable cause made him feel itchy. When they had gone far enough, he stopped and turned so his back was to the wall, his hard hazel eyes sweeping the area to make sure they were alone. He cleared his throat and continued, "It has to do with our supplies: specifically, lyrium."

"Lyrium?" she asked, the smile fading in the force of her confusion.

"Yes, as you know, we have several templars among our ranks."

"Yourself included," she added, eager to show she remembered their earlier conversations.

"Myself included," he agreed, the hopeless feeling returning for a moment. "When we left Haven, most of us—the former templars—were unable to take the time to bring our kits. A few managed to snag one or two crates of lyrium from the supply tents during the retreat through the chantry, but it is only so much. I'm afraid, well, I'm afraid things are going to get… uncomfortable around here."

"How so?" she asked. She had set aside the silliness, honestly curious as to this new plight and how it might effect the Inquisition.

"As you know, templars need lyrium; it's where we get our power. Back at Haven, we were working on a supplier for lyrium, so we wouldn't run out. Now, however…"

"Everything's gone, from Haven, at least. You'll have to start over, won't you, working out a reliable supplier?"

"Exactly," he nodded, grateful for her intuitive wit, quick at picking up on things. This was a sensitive subject for him—for any templar—and the less he had to explain, the better.

"But," she paused to chew her lip, that tiny furrow forming between her brows.

Apparently, his relief was to be short-lived. "Yes?" he prompted her, wondering what was happening inside that funny little head of hers, thinking a reassuring hand on her shoulder might erase that furrow, or an unexpected kiss might free that lip… Instead his hand tightened on the pommel of his sword, his self-discipline pushing away the intimate impulses.

"But, the templars, their power, I mean, the mages here, in the Inquisition, they're no longer rebelling. The mages are on our side, so we don't need templars to be ready to use their power and suppress magic, not while the mages are with us."

"True, the mages here in Skyhold seem willing enough. Keep in mind, though, these Venetori who have joined Corypheus are mages, aren't they? I don't think we'll have to deal with them any time soon, and not here at Skyhold, so we should be able to secure a new supplier before they become a problem. But… there is that other consideration," he looked at her and cocked an eyebrow, as if she knew what he was talking about.

"What other consideration?" she shook her head in confusion. The furrow on her brow deepened, and his hand was shaking so badly it almost rattled his sword in its sheath. Things were becoming awkward again, though for slightly different reasons. Yes, his impulses were running rampant, but she acted like she had no idea about templars…

It hit him the next moment. "Oh, of course, you wouldn't know…" It was too easy to forget, that Peredura had not only grown up a slave, but in a differently country—a different culture. She looked human, with her thin elven body hidden beneath extra layers of clothing and without the normal elven ears. She also dressed in Ferelden style and spoke their common tongue, but she was in a lot of respects still very much a stranger in a strange land. And though they had talked about templars and lyrium, he supposed no one had ever spoken with her about the, er, darker side of lyrium use.

"Know what, Commander?" she asked in a very formal and firm tone, when he seemed too far lost in his thoughts.

"Oh. Right. Forgive me, Inquisitor, I meant no disrespect. Er, yes, lyrium. Well, it's not something we discuss often, but there are disadvantages to using lyrium." He paused to look around them, but they remained alone for the moment. "For starters, it is addictive. The more we take it, the more we have to keep taking it. I'd rather not go into the details, but withdrawal from lyrium is rather unpleasant, and ends in either madness or death, sometimes both."

Peredura felt a coldness crawl over her skin, like cold and clammy hands that were trying to drag her back into the dark unknowing nothingness.

"With our supplies the way they are, the templars here at Skyhold are going to be running out of lyrium very soon, which means they will all be going into withdrawal."

She swallowed, her expression very sober and serious. "Including you?"

He had to glance away before he answered, "Including me. You didn't need to know this before, but as Inquisitor you do: that every templar here in Skyhold, in the Inquisition, is now a potential traitor."

She stared at him for three full heartbeats before she had to shake her head. "No, I won't accept that. Not every templar. Not you."

"Yes! You must accept it. I am as much a risk as any other." He realized he had somehow found her shoulders between his hands and had given her a small shake. Her large brown eyes had grown slightly moist, but she made no move to dislodge his hands. He did so himself, sucking in a deep breath. Damn, but he couldn't make himself look at her, look into those eyes and see the hurt he had placed there. "Perhaps the greatest risk."

"Cullen," she wouldn't let him pull back, taking hold of his mantle at his shoulder. "I don't understand. Is lyrium withdrawal so violent? How could it make all of you traitors?"

"We… NEED… lyrium," he was almost panting now, fighting conflicting urges, wanting to push her away, wanting to mold her body against his. "Being without it, being cut off from it, is like torture. That's why, if a templar is kicked out of the Order, he'll quickly resort to anything—any underhanded or illegal or dishonorable act—if it means he can get his hands on a cache of lyrium. But the Chantry… they keep the templars supplied with lyrium, those in the Order, that is. They control the Order, through that connection. The templars we have with us… they have had to rely on the Inquisition for lyrium. Same old chains, new master," he muttered darkly.

She didn't speak right away, nor did she remove her hand, and Maker forgive him but he didn't want her to. "I see," she finally whispered. "The bottom line is: templars need lyrium. If the Inquisition cannot provide lyrium, they always know they can return to the Order, to the Chantry."

He nodded while he tried to find his voice. "They might not leave the Inquisition, but work as spies against us for the Chantry. As I said," he finally found the courage to look back at her, "Any underhanded or illegal or dishonorable act. Nothing is beneath a templar who is cut off from lyrium. Nothing!"

She wanted to weep. She wanted to weep for Cullen, but she knew he would not appreciate it. She could understand his plight—the things she had once done, while wearing her own chains—but she didn't want to admit to it. "I know Josephine is doing everything she can to arrange a new supplier for lyrium…"

"If she's in time," he interrupted, "Then all the better, and this worrying will be for naught. But if she cannot find anyone, if she cannot succeed before…"

"I understand," she nodded. "Every templar in the Inquisition is a potential traitor. Even you." She paused, letting go of his shoulder but remaining firmly planted in front of him, refusing to let him escape, not until she had asked one more question. "How long will the current supply of lyrium last?"

"Two weeks," his voice sounded a little unsure even to himself. He dabbed at the sweat beading on his upper lip, "Perhaps longer. No more than a month, even with strict rationing. After that, you can expect to start seeing erratic behavior anywhere from a few weeks to a couple of months."

"Erratic behavior?" she pushed, and he saw his answers were only leading her to more questions. He should have made that break for it. "What sort of behavior? And are there other symptoms? I need to know, Cullen," she lifted her hand again, but stopped when he pulled his shoulder back. "I need to know what to look for."

She watched him look away again, as if he had trouble facing her—or facing something she kept reminding him of. Either way, he persevered, he kept answering her questions, he kept trying to make eye contact. "Withdrawal from lyrium causes mental… difficulties. Paranoia, disorientation, obsession, dementia, irritability, delusions, all these things begin to occur, as we start to lose touch with reality. Our… memories… our pasts come back to haunt us… our most terrifying nightmares… every dark and evil thought seems real and solid. They can't be distinguished from what's around us."

It was as if speaking made it real. He saw them, those two demons, their bodies shifting into the forms of two young girls, just past Peredura's shoulder, there in the courtyard and out in the open where everyone could see what he had been forced to endure…

"Cullen?" She did touch his shoulder this time, giving it a little tug for emphasis. He blinked and found her face, focused on that, and the vision faded away.

"Headaches," he continued, "Sweating, insomnia, loss of appetite. It's hard to say if these physical symptoms are caused by the withdrawal, or the other symptoms, but they are very likely to occur."

She stared at him a moment longer, and he forced himself to hold her gaze; it was far safer than looking away. "How long?" she asked cryptically.

He tried to pretend he didn't know what she meant, shaking his head slightly and forming a denial on his lips. She cut him off, not with words, but with a touch, her hand lifting from his shoulder to wipe at the sweat trickling down the side of his face.

She knew.

He started to answer, but his throat was tight and he had to clear it before he could continue. "I've been weaning myself off of it, decreasing my dosage a little at a time, since shortly after I joined the Inquisition. I thought it would be best if I could stop taking lyrium, if I could cut all ties to my templar past, as that would keep the Chantry from gaining any hold over me, and through me, the Inquisition or its forces. It's been a few months now. I thought I could do it, that slowly cutting down would be better than quitting outright, that it would keep the side effects of my withdrawal to a minimum." He gave a short and bitter laugh. "It appears I was mistaken. A decreased dosage has affected me the same as no dosage at all. I am already suffering withdrawal; I am already a risk." His hand closed over hers of its own accord, pulling it away from his cheek but refusing to let go. "I never wanted this. I never wanted to put you in danger. I never wanted to fail the Inquisition!"

"You haven't," she assured him. "You haven't done anything to harm or allow harm to come to us. Cullen, you've done more than anyone could expect of you; you've done more than any one person has for the Inquisition. If anything, you've done too much, taken on too many responsibilities, tried to do too many things at once."

"It's been necessary," he countered, feeling a little calmer, though he couldn't say quite why. Perhaps it was the simple fact of getting it off his chest. "And keeping busy helps."

A mysterious little smile pulled at the unscarred corner of her mouth, sad and with affinity. "Fine. I won't try to encourage you to ease up on your duties. And I'll keep an eye on you for this, um, strange behavior."

"Cassandra is already," he assured her. "I, er, that is, when I started this, weaning myself off of lyrium, that very first day I asked Cassandra to keep an eye on me, to watch me closely and, if it becomes necessary—if I cannot control these symptoms—to remove me from command."

"How serious are your symptoms? Are you in any pain?"

"I can endure it."

She nodded, "Then we'll trust your judgment."

"Not mine," he reminded her, "Cassandra's."

"Yours," she refused to back down. "It was your judgment to choose Cassandra to watch you, back before the withdrawal started to affect you; that's who's judgment we will trust."

He gave a rueful nod, "As you say."

"And, Cullen, if you ever, that is, should you need to, um, talk, or if it gets too uncomfortable or anything…"

"I chose to do this, Inquisitor," he finally realized he was holding her hand and let go, becoming formal once more, "Both to become a templar, and to leave it. Whatever the suffering, I accept it. And besides, it's nothing you can relate to."

She gave a small shake of her head and dropped her gaze; he had no idea…

"But… thank you, for the offer. And for understanding, for allowing this."

Her eyes lifted to his once more, a gentle brown that was remarkable in its own way, for its purity and openness and acceptance. "Of course. If there's nothing else…?"

"Not at present," he shook his head.

"Then I'll leave you to your work. Good day, Commander."

"Inquisitor," he gave a short bow. He wanted to look, Maker how he wanted to stare, but he would not let himself watch her walk away. He left her to meander through the courtyard, speaking with people at random, and returned to his desk.

It wasn't much of a desk, just a hastily slapped together table with a few fist-sized rocks for paperweights, but it functioned reasonably well, at least until he could clear enough rubble to get access to one of the towers and turn that into his office. Peredura had tried to get him to take one of the many rooms inside the Keep as his office, someplace closer to the rest of them, but he declined. He needed to remain closer to his men. He needed the space, the separation, the air.

Separation… Maker's breath! Cullen's eyes grew wide in horror and his cheeks burst into flame as he suddenly realized what had happened. He had lost control this morning. All his careful little tricks and techniques, to keep him from showing his obsession for Peredura, to keep him from acting on those wanton impulses, had been all for nothing. He had acted unthinkingly towards her during their discussion regarding templars. If anyone had happened by… had seen them… standing in a secluded corner… holding hands… speaking softly yet fervently… it might seem… the impression it would give…

He gave a soft groan and put a hand to his forehead.

"Commander," Josephine's voice came from off to the side, "Are you all right? Should I send for…"

"It's nothing," he quickly denied, dropping his hand and forcing the heat from his face, "Just a headache. Have you made any progress yet, securing those supplies we spoke of?"

She tilted her head, looking like she didn't believe him, but answered his question, "There's a friend of a friend, who's just arrived in Skyhold; he might be able to help us. I was on my way to speak with him when, oh," she sighed, giving up trying to ignore his obviously uncomfortable state, reaching out to touch his armored forearm. "Cullen, are you unwell? Ever since Haven, you've been…"

"As I said," he leaned away slightly, and her fingertips fell from his arm, "It's just a headache. If there's nothing you need from me, I shouldn't keep you from your meeting."

Josephine looked a little saddened by his response, but she allowed him to save face. "No, there's nothing I needed. Excuse me, Commander, I'll leave you to your work."

Leave me to my work, he thought to himself as she walked away. That was the second time someone said that to him this morning. Was that how people saw him, he wondered, always working, never resting?

Would that be a bad thing?

Deciding it didn't matter, he picked up a report from the growing stack of new ones, intending to make a dent in the pile before noon. He got most of the way to his goal, when he was interrupted by a loud—and joyous sounding—bark. The next moment, something large and dark came racing down the stepped hill next to his desk. Halfway down it jumped off the edge and knocked into Cullen's shoulder before landing on the desk. The rickety piece of furniture collapsed under the force, sending reports and debris flying every which way. Cullen recovered from the blow and looked in astonishment at the scene at his feet. For the moment he ignored the scattered reports and splintered wood, deciding it would be more prudent to deal with the culprit first.

"Andraste preserve me! What do we have here, a disaster on four legs?"

He knelt down in front of the force of destruction, which was currently chasing its tail, a near impossible task considering the tail was no larger than a stub. It was mostly dark brown, with piebald patches of honey-blond in its fur. Its head would come up about to his knee—if it ever stood still—and it was half as wide as it was tall, with a thick and muscular body that spoke of unbridled muscle. It was indeed unbridled, its chewed through leather lead flapping from the collar around its neck.

"All right, you rogue, pay attention now. Sit!"

The mabari gave a happy bark. Letting its tail get away, it lunged at Cullen and tried to knock him down, slapping paws that seemed overlarge for the body squarely on his breastplate. He let out a grunt, more out of play than because he had been hurt, and rocked back on his heels, also playing along. Having distracted the dog and gotten it close enough, he deftly slipped a few fingers into its collar. "No, that was 'Attack!' not 'Sit!' Still, not a bad first effort." The fingers of his other hand dug into a spot just behind its ear, scratching the short fur and eliciting a happy pant from the animal.

"Hey! Dog! Where could it have gotten to… oh, shit." Varric's voice floated downhill to where Cullen and the mabari were sitting in the middle of his ruined desk. Cullen looked up with an expectant expression, one eyebrow cocked, the animal secure in his hands. Varric had the decency to look a little taken aback. "Sorry, Curly, he, ah, got off his lead."

"I noticed."

"Varric, did you find him? Oh!" Peredura came racing up beside the dwarf, stopping suddenly when she saw what had happened. "Oh, no, Commander, I, I'm sorry, I had just, I mean, we were just standing around, and talking with the merchant who brought him, and he must've, well, chewed through his lead, and I didn't realize right away, and, oh…" her voice trailed away under the force of Cullen's glare. "I'll just help you clean up the mess."

"Don't bother," he sighed as she scampered down the steps, "I can manage. Just keep this… one-hound-army out of my hair." He immediately turned to pierce Varric with his glare, "Don't say it."

"Ah, come on," Varric's voice was full of humor as he sauntered down after Peredura, "How can you expect me to not say it, when you set yourself up so beautifully?"

Cullen grunted and looked away. "Where did this beast come from? You said a merchant brought him?"

"Yes," Peredura nodded, "An acquaintance of Varric's. He, ah," her voice suddenly trailed away, unsure how much she should say about it.

"He's an old friend out of Kirkwall," Varric supplied, leaning over to help her tie what remained of the lead around the dog's collar. "I asked him to find a dog for the Inquisitor here. Actually," he paused to laugh and duck when the mabari tried to lick his face, "Easy, boy. Actually, I had asked for the dog a few months ago, and my friend had a little trouble tracking down a breeder, and then tracking us down from Haven, but he finally made it. And now Peredura has a dog all of her own to love and care for."

"Speaking of caring for him," Cullen tilted his head, studying the animal's anxious behavior, "You should probably walk him around a bit, preferably away from any high traffic areas."

"What? Oh." Peredura saw the mabari sniffing at a nearby rock and about to lift his leg. "No, hey, come on, boy, let's go over here. I know a much better place for that."

The two men watched her walk the hound a little ways down the path before stepping off to the side by some overgrown bushes. "You bought it for her." Cullen's words weren't so much a question as a statement wanting confirmation.

"Well," Varric rubbed at the back of his neck, "Sure, I mean, back then Peredura was pretty timid and introverted and didn't have much in the way of friends. And, well, it seemed like a good idea at the time, you know, get her a dog, someone to keep her company, someone she could tell her secrets to, and maybe give her a bit of self-confidence, you know, with training him and the like. Maybe she doesn't need that quite so much anymore, but you gotta admit, they look good together, the Inquisitor and her dog."

Cullen shook his head. "That's not a dog, Varric."

"What do you mean?"

"That's a mabari."

He shrugged, "What's the difference? It's got four legs and a tail, well, a bit of a tail."

"So does a hamster," Cullen countered. "But seriously, Varric, a dog is one thing, but a mabari…"

"What? Hawke had one, back in the day. Nice enough fellow, intelligent, good in a fight…"

"And how big was it?" Cullen felt a little satisfaction as Varric's face fell. "Exactly. That mabari is just a puppy right now. Think of what it'll be like, fully grown, and as tall as you. An animal that size would, well, if he ever got wind of a squirrel while on his lead, he'd pull the poor girl off her feet."

"I hadn't thought of that."

It was Peredura's voice that spoke. Both men had been facing each other, not exactly arguing but intensely discussing, so she had been able to return to them unnoticed. The picture he painted was dark; what would happen to the Inquisition, if the Inquisitor got her neck snapped in an accident with her pet? "I suppose, Varric, it would be a bit much for someone like me. After all, I've never had a dog before, or a mabari, or whatever… a pet, anyway! Just…" she bit her lip, not wanting to give the mabari up, but thinking it would be best for her, and the animal.

The mabari suddenly looked up at her and whined sympathetically.

Cullen closed his eyes and brought a hand to his temple. "Andraste watch over fools, children, and drunkards." He opened his eyes to look at the hound, "Or in this case, mabari."

He gave an answering bark.

"Inquisitor," Cullen began, shoulders back and his shield of formality in place, "I have come to the conclusion that it is a good idea for you to keep the mabari."

"It is…?" she asked, so hopeful, her brown eyes wide and open and oh so deep he wanted to fall in…

"Yes," he gripped the pommel of his sword and took a steadying breath. "Yes, it is. He may grow into a formidable size, but with the proper training, I think he would be an excellent companion for you. Large. Protective. Strong. Mabari have been known to fight to the death for their partners, and even in some cases, avenge them."

"Partners?" she wondered at the term. She hadn't wanted to be a master to anyone, even a pet, but if she could think of herself and the dog as equals or friends, she would feel loads better.

"Partners. Don't think of this so much as 'owner' and 'pet;' rather think of yourselves as 'partners.' You'll both be much better off."

She wanted to give in and agree, he could see it on her face, but she also knew she had to make sure the decision would not negatively impact the Inquisition. "With the proper training, you said. I'm not sure I'd know how, I mean, I've never trained a mabari, and I have a lot of other duties…"

"I could help train him, I suppose, at least get the two of you started," Cullen offered, only a little reluctantly.

"You… you would be willing?"

Her voice was so hopeful, her smile on the verge of bursting like a sunrise, he couldn't turn her down if he wanted. "We are both Ferelden, the breed and I. And he's not the first mabari I've met. And I do know a bit about training. Yes, I could train him for you, teach him some basic commands, a little fighting. But you'll have to do the bulk of the training," he shook his finger at her. "I can show you how but, where mabari are concerned, it would be best for his partner to train him."

"I understand," she was nodding fervently, "I promise, I'll train him every day I'm here in Skyhold. Oh! I almost forgot."

"What is it now?" He didn't want to, but he had to ask, her face had so suddenly turned downcast.

"I was supposed to leave tomorrow, with The Iron Bull and his Chargers. They're going to Haven, to search the ruins for anything salvageable and look for survivors, that sort of thing. I… I suppose I'll have to stay here, for a bit, just until we, my partner and I," she gave the mabari a little grin, and he answered with a happy look, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and dripping drool on her boot, "Until his training starts, I suppose I shouldn't leave him…"

"I can watch him for you, too," Cullen sighed. "Maker knows, my duties keep me here at Skyhold, while you have to do a lot of traveling. Just," he held up his hand when she looked like she was about to jump into his arms and give him a hug, "Get him a proper lead. Take him inside, down to the blacksmith, see if Harritt can fashion a chain or something more substantial for… by the way, have you named him, yet?"

"Oh, well, sort of, I was thinking of calling him, um, I suppose it sounds kinda silly…"

"He's your dog, er, mabari," Varric encouraged her, "Name him what you want."

"Well, I thought it would sound nice, especially if he can be taught to fight, to be in the middle of a battle and call out, Fear, attack!"

The mabari gave a bark and lunged at Cullen, knocking into the side of his knees. He gave an honest grunt this time and staggered while Peredura tried to pick up the lead that had slipped from her grasp.

"Fear, huh?" Varric mused, watching them struggle with a happily barking puppy who was energetically staying just out of Peredura's reach, while enthusiastically wrapping Cullen's ankles in the lead. "I suppose it's better than Panic. Wouldn't want to yell panic attack in the middle of a fight."

"It seems he would agree," Cullen deadpanned, having finally gotten the mabari to sit still long enough to free himself. "Well, then, Fear it is. Now," he placed the end of the leather leash securely into her hands, "Take him inside before he causes any more mischief. And keep a firm grip on him."

"Yes, Commander," she readily agreed and started to lead the hound away. She paused after a few steps, glancing shyly over her shoulder, one deep brown eye peeking at him through her overgrown bangs. It was a look he hadn't seen for a while, and he discovered he had missed it. "And, thank you."

Then she and Fear were gone.

"I wonder if there's a metaphor in there somewhere," Varric hummed, "Fear is her constant companion."

"Or she has command of her fear," Cullen supplied, coming back to himself. "Whatever the reason, they both seemed to like the name."

"I was kind of wondering, Curly, why you changed your mind so suddenly. I thought you were going to discourage her from keeping the dog, I mean, hound."

"I meant to," he sighed, "But then I saw the mabari was showing signs of already imprinting on her. They looked to be sharing some sort of connection, at any rate. Besides, he will make a good protector, a more constant and alert bodyguard than any templar, considering we've been unable to find the assassin that was after her."

"You think he's still out there?" Varric wondered. "I thought, well, since there hasn't been an attempt on her life since, what, Redcliffe? Earlier? I thought maybe he'd given up. Maybe even gotten himself killed when we lost Haven."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Cullen said, his voice growing dark. "We've never found him, never even seen him, so there's no way to know if he's dead or given up or still out there. And I for one won't rest easy until I see his dead body lying at my feet."

"That's… a bit overzealous," Varric looked at him askance.

Before Cullen could think of an excuse for his overreaction, Josephine came up to them. "Commander! Oh, I have good news, for a change. Varric, thank you, again, for introducing us. That merchant friend of yours, he's going to be able to arrange for a steady supply of lyrium. Isn't that wonderful, Commander? It'll take a few weeks to set up, perhaps a month or more, but it will happen."

"That… is good to hear, Ambassador. Now, if you two will excuse me, I have a mess to clean up."

"Oh!" Josephine finally noticed the debris around them. "What happened here? It looks like a tornado swept through."

"No, just Fear."

"Fear?"

"Come on, Ruffles, let's leave the Commander to his work. I'll explain it while we walk."

Cullen didn't pay them any attention as they left, too focused on his own thoughts. It was good news, finding a reliable source of lyrium for the templars in their ranks. Morale will improve once the news got around, and make it easier for them to face any upcoming shortages. He could not relax, however. One of his reasons for encouraging Peredura to keep the hound was because of their conversation that morning, that she may not be able to rely upon and trust the templars here—even those chosen to be her honor guard. Thankfully they had avoided this current disaster due to Varric's merchant friend, but there could be others in the future, and he knew he'd have to stay on guard for any indication of dissension in the ranks. Yet Fear would never betray her.

If he had watched Varric and Josephine walk away, he might have noticed Peredura hovering above him, staring at him. She stood on the landing just in front of the Keep, Fear panting at her side, her eyes studying Cullen. She had felt nervous during their conversation just now, not only because of the mess her mabari had made of his 'office,' but because she kept thinking about their conversation that morning. She couldn't fight the impulse to look for those signs he spoke of, for the sweating and the paranoia and the loss of touch with reality…

But he appeared normal. In fact, he seemed more relaxed and more open than she had seen him in a long time. She wondered if it might be because of the mabari, and reached down to scratch his head. Fear leaned into the touch, nudging her leg. "Right. We were getting you a stronger lead, weren't we. Come on, Fear, let's go visit Master Harritt. You'll have plenty of time to play with Cullen over the next week."

He gave a bark in answer, and to her ears, it sounded like he was looking forward to it.

"Inquisitor! Might I have a word?"

Peredura didn't want to, but she stopped and turned back to face the Keep. She had just spent ten days away from Skyhold, ten days away from Cullen and her new mabari puppy, and she wanted nothing more right then than to see how they were getting along and tell Cullen what she had brought back…

But Dorian was strolling towards her, well, sauntering, perhaps strutting. Whatever it was, she pushed aside her personal desires and put a smile on her face. "Of course. What can I help you with?"

"Oh, nothing important. I was just looking for some idle chatter. I heard you were back from Haven, and wanted to find out how that went, Inquisitor." He cocked an elbow and leaned against the low wall on the side of the walkway.

"Dorian," she sighed, feeling her cheeks burn a little, "You don't have to call me Inquisitor, not while we're alone, anyway."

"Ah, but we are never very far from your admirers," he gestured. They were on the walkway between the Keep and the battlements, the shortest route to Cullen's tower, she'd been told. And though the walkway was high above the courtyard, it was still within view of anyone and everyone below them. She glanced, a little nervously, and saw there were at least a score of people down there, some of whom were looking upwards at them. "Best to keep up appearances, wouldn't you say?"

"Appearances," she repeated, "I doubt anyone could make me out from down there, not enough to see that I'm the Inquisitor."

"You're still wearing your armor," he pointed out, flicking his fingers at the metal on her helmet, as well as the metal fastenings on his own clothing. "Shiny bits like that attract attention."

She made a small face. "Point taken." She pulled off her helmet, letting it dangle from her hand and out of sight from her would-be audience. "Better?"

He studied her face closely, the look on his face making her feel uncomfortable. "Yes. Peredura, there was something I've been meaning to ask you."

Her heart stuttered a beat, and she fervently prayed he wasn't about to ask what she feared he was about to ask. "Of course." Amazingly, her voice didn't squeak.

"Have we…" he leaned forwards and away from the wall, "Have we ever met? It's just that you somehow look familiar to me."

She shrugged, "Maybe I have one of those faces."

Dorian gave a bark of laughter at that. "Hardly. No offense, but a face like yours does stand out in a crowd. That's why this is bothering me. I feel I should know you from somewhere, but I can't for the life of me remember ever meeting anyone like you. I don't suppose you have a sister or a cousin, someone who looks like you, but without the scars, someone who might have traveled to Tevinter and…"

"I have no family," she quickly interrupted. "And no, Dorian, I've never met you before Redcliffe. You're not exactly easy to forget, either, but for different reasons." It wasn't a lie precisely, as she and Dorian were never introduced, so they technically had never 'met.' She threw the flattery in at the end to try to distract him.

It worked. "Well, I can't deny that. Still, it's been bothering me, you understand, that's why I had to ask."

"I understand. Was there anything else? I'd like to check in on Cullen and my puppy."

"Ah, yes," his blue eyes sparkled with mirth, "Fear. Wonderful mutt you have there. It found its way into the library one afternoon and chewed up my favorite cushion."

"Oh, no, I'm sorry. I'll get you a new one…" She reached out and set a hand on his forearm.

"Don't bother; I've already replaced it." He glanced over her shoulder and added very quietly, "Don't look now, but someone is watching us." Peredura couldn't help herself; she had to look. Before she could turn her head, however, his hand was there, holding on to her, blocking her view. "I said, don't look."

"Is it Cullen?" she stopped chewing her lip long enough to ask.

"No, it's the Imperial Archon. Yes, of course it's Cullen. How is it going between you two, by the way? Any progress?"

She shook her head, and his hand fell to her shoulder. "No. None. I don't know, Dorian, maybe you were right, what you said before. Maybe that other Cullen from the future invented his feelings for me, because this Cullen doesn't have any."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," he assured her, but the reason why escaped her notice. She couldn't see the dark look Cullen was giving them, the way his hand gripped the frame of the tower door. Dorian smiled as he watched his reactions, before he brought his attention back to Peredura. "Let's look at this from his perspective."

"His perspective?"

"Yes. Commander Cullen is a military man, isn't he? So, approach this as you would a battle. Lay siege to his heart, dear lady. Surround it with your army, cut off all its supplies and communications, beat against its walls with your trebuchets." He spoke softly, so his words wouldn't carry to Cullen, but theatrically enough to make it apparent he was trying to impress Peredura. As he hoped she would, she laughed, a merry sound, loud and clear enough to reach Cullen's ears.

Peredura had no idea Cullen was still listening in. She was caught up in the vision, picturing the scene in her mind so vividly, Cullen surrounded by tiny trebuchets throwing kisses at his chest. "You make it sound easy, when you put it like that," she managed to calm herself and grow serious, "But I don't think I have any trebuchets powerful enough to take down those walls."

"Don't give up. I'm certain he has some sort of feelings towards you."

"How? How can you be so sure? Every time I talk with him, try to talk with him about anything other than work, he starts looking around for the nearest exit."

"Exactly. For a man who can face down an army of red lyrium infected templars and not break a sweat, he easily gets himself flummoxed by a certain pair of pretty brown eyes." Again he touched her cheek, a caring gesture, and tried not to gloat when he saw Cullen turn on his heel and stalk back into his tower.

"Now I know you're teasing me," she rolled her eyes.

Dorian gave her a wink. "I think you're wearing him down, my dear Inquisitor. Keep at it."

"Keep at what?"

"Keep talking with him," Dorian explained, "Even if it's just about work. Or that hound of yours; there's a good place to start."

"Speaking of which," her wide eyes grew even wider, "I was on my way to pick up Fear. I should get going."

"Yes, of course. I'll not keep you from that, er, mongrel."

"He's a mabari," she said as she turned away, ending up speaking over her shoulder, "A hound, and a very intelligent animal. And I'll tell him to eat something else of yours if you're not nicer towards him."

She walked away, her shoulders back, her chin up, her helmet swinging from one hand. She liked Dorian, she truly did, but sometimes his teasing went too far. The short, brisk walk towards the door of Cullen's tower did nothing to cool her temper. She pushed the door open with preamble or a knock, thinking she'd apologize if there was a need…

But Cullen wasn't there. A soldier was, his face a little flushed, as he stood beside the desk and tried not to shift his feet. "Begging your pardon, Inquisitor," he noticed the insignia on her shoulder, something Cassandra suggested she wear so the troops would know her, "But if you're looking for the Commander, he isn't here. He went to speak with Seeker Pentaghast."

She looked at him closely. "Are you all right, soldier?"

"Yes, Ser, I, that is, I came here to deliver a report, but the Commander was just leaving, so he told me to wait here, but I have to, er, I need to use, um, you know."

She managed to keep from rolling her eyes this time. "Very well, soldier. Deliver your report to me, and I'll see that he gets it."

"Oh, thank you, Ser, thank you! Ah, the eastern watch reports all clear. Excuse me, Inquisitor."

"Dismissed," she nodded. As she watched the soldier race off to find the privy, she wondered why Cullen hadn't taken the time to listen to his report. Surely whatever business he suddenly had with Cassandra could have waited for thirty seconds.

She sighed and left the tower, thinking she'd probably find Cassandra down by the practice dummies, in the far corner of the grounds. As it turned out, one of the practicing soldiers directed her to look for Cassandra and Cullen in the nearby armory. She opened the door and stepped into a scene she was never meant to see.

A/N: *slight spoiler alert* Okay, I just wanna go on the record and say this: being a 'dog person' myself, I had always intended for Peredura to get a mabari. But, well, after playing a particular DLC, it fits in even better, right? ;)

Sorry, Pip…