Chapter Text
“I know it’s not ideal, but it’s what’s best for the Inquisition.” Trevelyan looked so sincere, so earnest, Dorian thought he misheard.
“You want me to what?” They were alone in the Inquisitor’s room, standing at the balcony where the cold mountain air kept them both tucked in long cloaks.
“After we returned from Halamshiral, the Commander received dozens of marriage proposals. Josephine thinks it’s politically sound to secure his marriage.”
“With me.” He would laugh if he didn’t feel so sick. “You understand I left Tevinter to escape just this kind of thing.”
Trevelyan slapped his shoulder. “Yes, but Cullen’s a man, so it shouldn’t be so difficult. It solidifies our internal power structure and provides us with intimate ties to Tevinter.”
“Inquisitor,” he couldn’t call him by his name. Not when he was orchestrating Dorian’s life. “Just because he’s a man doesn’t mean I want to marry him. And if you think that marrying me to a Ferelden soldier with no magic is going to do anything to your ties to Tevinter, you haven’t listened to anything I’ve ever told you about my homeland.” He could imagine the horror rippling through the Magisterium at the news. Dorian had never received a personal letter from the Archon, but he imagined a marriage to Cullen would do it. “What does the Commander think of all this?”
Trevelyan leaned against the balcony. “He’ll do as I ask.”
“You haven’t told him.”
“No. I wanted to talk with you first. I thought you would be happy. It’s a chance to have what Tevinter could never give you.” Trevelyan had come so far since they first met. Dorian couldn’t tell if he actually thought he was giving Dorian a gift, or if he was playing it up to make Dorian more pliable to his will. “I won’t force you to do this, Dorian. But if you refuse,” he drew a breath, held it a moment and let it out in a long sigh. “There’s no place here for people who can’t think of the good of the Inquisition.”
Dark spots swam in front of Dorian’s vision and he thought he might vomit. “You’d cast me out?”
Trevelyan spread his hands. “You’re a very dear friend, and I’d hate to see you leave. But we’re fighting the greatest threat Thedas has ever known. I need absolute loyalty.”
It was worse, somehow, to have Trevelyan call him a friend and still talk of making him leave. At least Halward had the decency to deny him. There had to be a point at which Dorian had to consider that the fault didn’t lie with others, not when the same thing kept happening over and over. He could never quite live up to expectations, it seemed. “How long do I have to decide?” Perhaps Dorian needed to stop putting all of his faith in men who took a longer view, overlooking the minutia of Dorian’s life.
“I’ll give you until the morning. I really do hope you’ll choose to stay with us, Dorian.” He squeezed Dorian’s shoulder in dismissal as he went to his desk to sort through the day’s correspondence as if he had not dropped a terrible ultimatum on Dorian. As if his careful wording didn’t set the decision firmly on Dorian’s shoulders.
Dorian lingered at the balcony for a moment. He hoped that Trevelyan might come back with a bold laugh and a smile and tell him it had all been a joke at his expense. But the Inquisitor stayed at his desk and the cold wind moved him inside. He let himself out, down the stairs and out into the hall, his steps uncertain. Varric called to him in greeting, but Dorian waved him off, kept walking. The keep wasn’t that big and he’d made a full circuit in less than an hour. He climbed up onto the walls and eventually, without his notice, his feet led him to Cullen’s office.
He stood at the door for several long moments, considering the sturdy wood before he knocked. Cullen’s voice called out for him to enter and he found the man with his fists planted on his desk, leaning over a scrap of paper. His face closed up when he saw Dorian. “Come to gloat?”
Dorian felt as if he’d been punched. His grip on the door kept him on his feet. “Commander—“ The icy silence between them had faded once they’d arrived at Skyhold and Dorian was able to prove his usefulness. While Dorian didn’t seek the man out, but he no longer walked the other way when he saw Cullen coming. They’d even traded a few polite words at the Winter Palace.
“Please, Messere Pavus. I’ll have quite enough of your company in the coming days. Give me time to adjust to this.”
Words. Words had always been his first harbor in a difficult situation, but they failed him in the face of Cullen’s anger. “Of course. My apologies.” He gave a half bow and forced himself out of the office. He didn’t think he had the strength to make it back to his room, but luckily it was a short distance to the tavern.
Bull was seated with a handful of the Chargers, and Sera was balancing an arrow by its point on her fingertip. Dorian dropped into an empty chair at Bull’s side and stole the mug in front of him, draining it in one long gulp. When Bull protested, he slid his coin purse across the table. He should be saving his coin, but what was a going away party without alcohol?
Bull frowned at him and pushed the money back at him. “You okay, big guy? You look pale.”
Dorian drew himself up and pushed away thoughts of his impending departure. “Never better. Who has cards? Shall we play a round?” His voice was steady. A small accomplishment, but Dorian would take what he could get.
“A little early for you, isn’t it?” Bull studied him and if Dorian didn’t get him distracted he’d start poking and prodding until the whole sordid mess came out. Whatever Dorian thought of Trevelyan at the moment, he was still the Inquisitor, still the Herald of Andraste and the people of the Inquisition didn’t have room for doubt. And, to be honest, once he was gone, who would miss him? He knew of a handful of bets riding on how long he was likely to stay. At least someone would benefit.
“Yeah, why aren’t you up in your dusty tower with your books?” Sera flipped the arrow up and caught it so she could point it in his direction.
Instead of trying to play that nothing was wrong, Dorian gripped Bull’s leg under the table. “No questions. Just drinks and cards.”
For a moment, he thought it wouldn’t work, but then Bull patted his back. “This round’s on me.”
The ale and the company helped for a little while. Bull and his Chargers were always good for a story. Sera, too, when he could follow her line of thought. It was quite late and he was quite drunk by the time he quit the tavern, Bull at his side to help him back to his room.
“You’ll tell me what’s going on when you can?”
Dorian nodded as Bull helped him into bed, the room swirling in a soft, slow spin. Bull patted his chest and then he was gone, the door closed, and Dorian was left alone with his thoughts. He’d hoped that the ale and the late hour would pull him to sleep, but he couldn’t stop turning over his thoughts. Cullen’s anger, his furious expression when Dorian had said nothing was clear in his mind. It was not a look he wanted to see cast on him every day for the rest of his life.
He tried to imagine a life outside the Inquisition. He couldn’t go back to Tevinter. The Venatori were thick in his homeland and he doubted he would make it far before they found him and paid him back for all those he’d help eliminate. Val Royeaux might make a nice stopping point. He couldn’t stay there indefinitely, Inquisition business brought Trevelyan through often and once he was cut loose from the Inquisition, he had no desire to be faced with them again and again. If he was careful, he might have enough coin to get to Nevarra. At least the weather would be better.
He squeezed his eyes closed and curled in on himself. Sleep did not come.
When dawn broke, Dorian was still a little drunk as he made his way through the keep. Few were up so early and he had a quiet walk to Trevelyan’s room. The Inquisitor was waiting, his arms folded and a vaguely hopeful expression his face. At his side was Cullen, who wouldn’t even look at Dorian. His disdain made Dorian’s choice easier. Better to take his chances in the wilds than have to face a man who hated him for the rest of his life.
“What say you, Dorian?”
He cleared his throat and tried for calm. “I’m sorry, Inquisitor. I believe in this cause and the work we’re doing, but I cannot do as you request.” As he spoke, Trevelyan’s genial expression hardened until he barely resembled the charming man they all knew.
“I see. Very well. I expect you out of Skyhold by nightfall and Inquisition lands in a fortnight.”
A part of him had hoped that Trevelyan was bluffing, and that once Dorian stood his ground, they would all move on. Instead, his words hit him like a shard of ice through his heart. “Thank you. And please, if you have need of me, I will come.” Once he left, Dorian knew Trevelyan would never call for him, but he had to offer. He couldn’t walk away without it.
“Inquisitor, what is this?” Cullen looked between them, a frown marring his handsome face.
Trevelyan smacked Cullen’s back. “No need to worry, Commander. We’ll find someone suitable for you. Perhaps we should look to the proposals from Orlais. I’ll set Josephine to it now.”
Dorian slunk away as they continued to talk about Cullen’s future. He had no wish to hear what Trevelyan had in store when his own was so suddenly dark. He noticed the Commander hadn’t been given an ultimatum, though Dorian supposed the leader of the Inquisition’s army had more value than a single mage. Even if Trevelyan had dragged him all over Ferleden and made him fight a fucking dragon. Dorain drew in a slow breath. It wasn’t the time for bitterness. That could come later when he didn’t have packing to do and a decision to make about his goodbyes.
The room assigned to him near the gardens was small, but it had been his alone. During the months of their occupation of Skyhold, Dorian had managed to accumulate a surprising amount of stuff. He came to Ferelden with his staff and a terrible hunger. At least he’d be leaving it with a few more things.
He began sorting his belongings, the things he could make room for, the things best left behind. There were a handful of items that would be put to good use in the hands of his friends. As he identified items to go to Bull and Sera and Varric, he decided it was best to leave without saying anything. Best to leave his gifts in his room with notes for his friends to find when he was gone. Bad enough he had to leave, he didn’t think he had the strength to explain over and over this his selfishness had him cast out, again.
He was in the midst of sorting his books when his door banged open and Cullen marched in, his face flushed. “What are you doing?”
Dorian looked around the room and then back to Cullen. “It should be obvious, Commander. I’m packing. I have until nightfall, unless the Inquisitor has changed his mind? Am I to be on my way immediately?”
The anger driving Cullen forward evaporated and he closed the door behind him. “Not the packing, you foolish man. I mean denying the Inquisitor. Do you want to be cast out of Skyhold?”
Dorian turned his back to Cullen and continued sorting. Some of the books held quite a sentimental value, but he couldn’t conscience the space. “I find that what I want, Commander, means very little.”
“So you’ll throw away everything we’ve built, and everything you’ve worked for?”
“I’m hardly throwing it away. The Inquisitor gave me a choice, such as it is. And I already left one home to prevent marriage to a person who would spend her whole life despising me. The terrible climate doesn’t inspire me to try the same thing here.” He looked at his pack already stuffed with clothes and necessary items. The books would never fit. He sighed and picked them up and put them all back on his shelf, trying not to feel the pain of their loss. They were just things and perhaps, one day, they might cross paths again.
“Dorian.” Cullen closed the distance and placed a hand on Dorian’s shoulder. “When you came to me last night, I thought—“
Dorian shrugged him off. “It’s quite clear what you thought. The evil, scheming, gay, blood mage gets one over on the poor, virginal Templar. Don’t flatter yourself, Cullen. A pretty face isn’t quite enough to make me bind you to my will.” He wished Cullen would leave. It was hard enough to pack up his life, sort through the physical memories of his time with the Inquisition without an audience. “I’m certain the Inquisitor will find a nice wife for you. I don’t know what he was thinking trying to pair us up in the first place.”
“Dorian! Please, listen. I’m sorry for the way I acted last night. It was incredibly foolish of me not to think that the Inquisitor would have pushed you into this arrangement as he did me. I’m the Commander of his army, I serve at his pleasure. I should not have forgotten that he expects the same of the rest of you.”
He sounded so earnest; it was hard for Dorian to keep hold of his anger, but if he let it all go, the only thing left was sadness. “Yes, thank you, Commander. Apology accepted. Now, if you please. I have a great deal to do and not much time.”
“You don’t have to go.”
A dismissive sound crossed his lips before he could stop himself. “Don’t be foolish. Trevelyan won’t change his mind. He thinks it a weakness.”
Cullen caught his hand and stilled his packing, making Dorian meet his gaze. “He doesn’t have to change his mind if you will. Agree to the marriage and he’ll let you stay.” He rubbed Dorian’s hand with his thumb. “I don’t despise you. I was upset and I lashed out. I know I’m not,” he looked away, then. “I’m not anyone’s ideal for a husband, but I would never try to hold you back. And if it meant you could stay, shouldn’t we at least talk about it?”
With a great deal of effort, Dorian pulled his hand away, unwilling to let himself hope. “It’s all well and good to discuss it, but I have seen what years can do to arranged marriages and it is not anything I want a part of. If I wanted to be resented, I would have stayed in Tevinter.” His own parents kept separate wings, and it was still not enough distance between them.
Cullen, though, did not seem swayed. “We hardly know each other. Perhaps there is a chance we may grow to be friends. Let me talk to the Inquisitor. Josephine would insist on an elaborate ceremony—it would be months before the actual wedding.” He ran his hand over his head, mussing his slicked back hair into something closer to curls. Dorian had never been close enough to realize his hair curled. “It would give us time to get to get to know each other. If, at the end of the engagement, we find we are not compatible, then you can leave, but you’ll have had months of time to prepare, possibly find somewhere to land instead of heading out of the fortress on foot.”
What was worse: leaving with no warning, or knowing it was coming for months? He might be better prepared, but could he live with the knowledge hanging over him? “Why would you do this? As you say, we hardly know each other. I know you don’t trust me.” When they first set up practice for the mages in the practice field, Cullen had set a troop of his soldiers to monitor their progress. When Dorian went to him to complain, he was unmoved, claiming that he had to think of the safety of everyone in the keep.
Cullen sighed. “It’s not you I don’t trust. You have been an incredible asset to the Inquisition and to lose that over something so small is a waste.”
“And you consider marriage a small thing?”
He spread his hands. “On the balance of saving the world? Yes.” He looked away, his face lined. “I swore to give everything I had to the Inquisition. If the Inquisitor believes this will help us, even in a small way, how can I say no?”
Had circumstances been very different, Halward Pavus would have loved Cullen. His devotion to duty was positively Tevene. “And when the Inquisition is done? When Corypheus is defeated in a year, two years? Then you have an entire lifetime to regret your duty.”
“Then in two years we figure out the next step. But the first step is keeping you here, helping instead of running. Please. Let me talk to the Inquisitor. If he is amenable, we can start small.” Cullen cast about the room and his eyes lit on Dorian’s chess set. “You play? I haven’t in years. We could start there.”
#
Cullen, it turned out, was a challenging opponent. He gave the chess board the same intent concentration he gave his war maps. Dorian resorted to cheating almost immediately.
“You can’t move there.” Cullen nudged Dorian’s knight.
Dorian scanned the board. “Of course I can. When the Archon is on a black square, his knights move an extra space. Shall I order a copy of the rule book for you, Commander? How long has it been since you played?”
It was only their second match. The first had been stilted and was over quickly as they hadn’t known where to look or what to talk about during the quiet times. Dorian came better prepared for their second match. He’d read a short history of the southern Templars, and a treatise on the importance of the mabari in Ferelden culture. Neither turned out to be necessary as they relaxed into the match and Dorian started cheating.
“Is it so very different, here as compared to Tevinter?”
Dorian leaned back and crossed his legs, studying Cullen as Cullen studied the board. “As different from Ferelden is to the Fade.”
Cullen made his move and then leaned back. “You sound like you miss it.”
“In some ways.” He slid a pawn forward. “I miss the food and the culture and the heat.” Even in the garden under the direct rays of the sun he was chilled. “Mages can use magic there without the fear that we’ll all become horrible abominations. The blood magic, betrayal, and sycophantism aren’t so nice, though.” He smiled as Cullen laughed. The man should laugh more often, it eased some of the tension from his face. It must be a heavy job running the army of the Inquisition. “What about you. You grew up near here, yes?”
Cullen hummed agreeably. “Not too far, a few days out. Farm living to life in the Circle was quite the change. While the other recruits were groaning about the early hours, I was beside myself. Sleeping in until dawn didn’t even happen on holidays. Of course, I didn’t quite know how to be around so many other people. It was just my family on the farm and suddenly I was shoved into a dorm with twenty other boys.”
Dorian moved his castle, a legal move, if not a very good one. “And how old were you?”
“Thirteen. A bit young, but I was determined.”
He found the image of an impossibly young Cullen in oversized armor with wooden sword and shield strangely endearing. “I’d already been kicked out of three Circles by the time I was that age.”
“No.” Cullen leaned in, the board forgotten as a grin spread across his face. “I would have thought you a very well behaved child.”
“Maker, no. I was a terror.” He hadn’t thought so at the time. Not with Halward egging him on and Aquinea sending him lists of children to befriend and which ones to humiliate. It wasn’t until years and years later he realized that wasn’t how all children acted. “Better and stronger than the other children, I bloodied the noses of half of my peers. It’s no wonder my scandal was so well received.”
Cullen, bless him, didn’t ask him to elaborate. “I had my share of fights as well.”
Dorian grinned, scandalized. “No. Not our good, wholesome Commander. I imagine you as a tiny hall monitor, keeping the peace.”
“I wanted to be the best and there were more than a few boys who were only there because their family shuffled them off. They had no love for the Templars, nor any desire to help. I thought I could shove it into them.” He laughed. “My first lesson in leadership.”
“There they are!” Trevelyan’s voice cut across the garden. “My princes.” And just like that, Dorian remembered he wasn’t building a friendship with Cullen, but the foundation of a marriage. The easiness between them evaporated as Trevelyan neared, a hand out on each of their shoulders. “Josephine is ready to start talking about the guest list for the wedding. I thought we could meet to discuss it if you’re not busy.”
While Trevelyan had agreed to let Dorian stay and let them proceed under the auspices of a long engagement, he would not be turned from planning for their wedding. He wanted it to be a reason to bring rulers from across Thedas to Skyhold and preparations had already begun on the minor repairs to the Fortress that had never been a priority.
“Of course, Inquisitor.” Dorian rose, aware of just how much he resided in the keep at Trevelyan’s pleasure. He followed Cullen out of the garden, their game left mid-play, and into Josephine’s office. She had an array of tiny cakes and tea set out for them. A kind gesture that had Dorian scrambling to find a way to repay in the coming days.
As the afternoon wore on, Dorian wasn’t sure why his attendance was required at all. He and Cullen were mostly silent as Trevelyan and Josephine batted names back and forth between them. Rulers, allies, nobility. The kind of people that led to extravagant and frankly boring parties. Cullen looked overwhelmed within moments.
“Cullen, we’ll invite your family of course. I’ll send tailors to have them fitted a month before the ceremony.” Trevelyan flipped through samples of paper for the invitations. “Dorian, I imagine your parents can handle their own travel and clothing arrangements.”
He felt like he’d swallowed a burning stone. “No. Absolutely not. You cannot invite them.”
Trevelyan looked curious, but there was a layer of steel beneath his gaze that was immovable. “Whyever not?”
“One, they won’t come. Two, I don’t want them here.” He couldn’t believe that Trevelyan would even suggest it. Hard enough to be forced into a marriage, to have his parents as witness would be unbearable.
Trevelyan waved him away. “Come now, Dorian. Your father crossed the sea just to see you. Of course they’ll come to their son’s wedding. And wouldn’t it be nice to have the family all together? We should send their invitations first, it will take ages for them to arrive by courier.”
Before Dorian could argue further, Cullen cleared his throat. “I should like to tell my family myself, before we send their invitation, if at all possible.” Cullen seemed caught between his own dismay and Dorian’s fury.
Trevelyan looked to Josephine who nodded. They were all ignoring Dorian’s demand and it made him want to burn the building to the ground. See if they would listen then.
“That should be fine, Commander, as long as you do it soon. Best to be able to send out invitations at the same time. We wouldn’t want our allies to feel slighted.”
“Thank you.” Cullen stood and put a hand on Dorian’s shoulder. “You don’t really need us for the rest of this, do you? I promised Dorian a tour of the ramparts and it’s getting late.”
Trevelyan smiled at them, pleased that they should be making plans together, despite the fact that Cullen had promised no such thing. “Go on, then. Josie will show you the final invitations before we send them out.”
Cullen pulled him from the room. Dorian followed on stiff legs his whole body rigid with fury. “Not here,” Cullen said under his breath, leading Dorian out of the hall and up the stairs to his office. He had a quick word with one of the soldiers stationed at his door and then he closed them in. “Breathe.” He led Dorian to a chair but Dorian was too agitated to sit. He paced instead, the full length of the room.
“First he must arrange this marriage, and then he seeks to arrange my family. He goes too far.” Dorian pointed through the wall as if Trevelyan could see him on the other side of the fortress. “I don’t want them here.” He shuddered, unable to imagine what it would be like to have them in his space after so many years free of them. “They cannot be here.”
“All right,” Cullen soothed. “You said they wouldn’t be likely to attend.”
He could picture his father opening the invitation. He wasn’t sure which would be worse for Halward that Cullen was a man, that he was Ferelden, or that he had no magic—was in fact an ex-Templar. Dorian could not have concocted a more spiteful match if he tried. If only it had been his choice. “True. But I don’t want them to know about my life and I don’t want the barrage of letters as they try to change my mind.” He choked a little on his choice of words. No need to get into that bit of history.
Cullen approached him, slow and steady as if Dorian were a colt unused to human contact. “The Inquisitor will do as he will, we know that. But I can have Josephine divert any missives that come to you from them. You won’t have to think on it at all.”
He finally collapsed in the chair Cullen offered and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “How will your family take the news?” He imagined the farm thrown into chaos as the absent son came bearing news of a male lover. “I can’t imagine it will please them to lose out on grandchildren.”
Cullen propped himself on the edge of his desk next to Dorian, a breath of air separating his thigh from Dorian’s knee. “Mostly, I think they’ll be upset that I never mentioned you.” A faint smile graced his face, his eyes far away. “Besides, they already have six grandkids. They never needed me for that. And they’ve known about me, that I am bisexual,” he stuttered adorably over the word, “since I was sixteen.”
“Well, well. The hidden depths of the Commander.” A tiny bit of him eased. At least Cullen might not be physically revolted by him. In theory at least.
“Would you like to come with me? When I tell them.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to answer with a scathing remark, but Cullen seemed sincere in his request. He hesitated.
“Better to meet them in a quiet moment than here when the keep is filled with dignitaries and nobles.”
He was right. “I would like that.”
“Excellent. I’ll make the arrangements for when the Inquisitor can spare us both.”
He stood, aware he’d taken up far too much of the Commander’s time. “I should warn you. Parents tend not to like me.” Not his own or others. “Fereldens in particular find me distasteful.”
“Don’t worry so much. If nothing else, they’re polite enough to wait until you leave to start talking about you.
Dorian straightened his clothes and headed for the door. “How refreshing.”