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He'd heard stories over the years of Tal-Vashoth.Violent maniacs cut off from the Qun, hunted down by Ben-Hassrath, that followed no rules, knew no bounds, and were not accountable for their actions as they would be were they Qunari, or even Andrastian, let alone belonging to any other sect. With no guilt, no remorse, and no minds but those of sheer madness. And Saarebas? Mages bound under Qunari hand, chained, led around on leashes like animals, with their mouths sewn shut? Even more unpredictable once freed, and even more of a danger to society.Little better than beasts.Yes, Commander Cullen had heard stories of such wild creatures, but Adaar contradicted every single one of those fearful tales.What was more, Adaar contradicted everything Cullen had come to understand about the horned race of Thedas.Didn't make him any less intimidating, however.It was unknown as to whether or not he was truly Tal-Vashoth, or merely Vashoth, meaning he was born entirely outside of the Qun, for there was absolutely no record of his past that the Inquisition could get their hands on. No written records, no personal information. They only knew that he'd belonged to a mercenary company operating out of the Free Marches, called the Valo-Kas. Only that he and several others had been hired to keep the peace at the Conclave. Only that he alone survived the Breach, and joined the fight to restore order.And only the Iron Bull might know if he'd ever been Qunari, for he was Ben-Hassrath, pretending to be Tal-Vashoth, but Bull had nothing to report.He had no scars indicating a life of submission to the Qun, and whatever he was, he certainly wasn't what the Ferelden native assumed him to be at first glance. Quite the opposite, actually. Calm, passive, unobtrusive, and with marked intelligence. He spoke several languages, mainly the common tongue, but a little elvish, some dwarven, and even Antivan, to the Ambassador's delight. His travels had taken him many places in northern Thedas, and he was semi versed in it's many cultures and their customs.And he was ever so distracting to look at, almost...beautiful, if Cullen were being honest. It was really the only word that seemed appropriate. Tall, evidently, and maybe only an inch or so shorter than Bull, but younger, leaner, with skin so dark it was nearly black, and long hair that matched in color. It spiked upward on top of his head, like a young colt, but then stretched the length of his back in a braid, that lashed like a whip whenever he turned sharply. His horns had to have been the most impressive feature.Like those of a dragon.Long, black, sharp, growing upward out of his head, and unlike Bull's horns, which were unsurprisingly rather oxen shaped, Adaar's own set largely resembled those of a High Dragon. And he glittered in the sun. He had a gold ring in his right ear, was dressed in something called antaam-sar, of a darkened samite cloth with gold accents. To encapsulate his ensemble he carried a golden dragon staff, often leaned on it like a walking stick, when he wasn't using it to light something ablaze with a fire spell.He was hard to mistake, even harder to dismiss.He was observant, but whereas the Spymaster's icy glare seemed to have this uncanny ability to violate a person, see their lies, their regrets, and their insecurities, break them down, open them up like slowly ripping off a bandage and exposing faults to the raw elements, which was unsettling...Adaar's set of chestnut eyes seemed so...warm. Kind, and free of judgement. Disarming in a sense, the way he looked at a person, seeing their faults, recognizing them, but not picking at them like a dead carcass.He was ridiculously easy to talk to, and smiled a lot.If not for his intimidating size - and the fact that he was a horned giant - Cullen would be smitten with him, in truth. He'd always been somewhat curious of other men, never enough to act on, but curious. Though he'd never found one he thought particularly attractive, nor even interesting. Much like women, Cullen was picky about men, perhaps even more so than women, as far as physical appearance. And Adaar? The Tal-Vashoth certainly peaked Cullen's interest, albeit mildly, but he balked at the idea of being emasculated by another man.Which no doubt he would be, and he was in no way thrilled by the prospect of such. As well, there was another problem, aside from that.He was a mage. An apostate, and his name literally meant 'weapon'. Since working with the Inquisition, Cullen had made a conscious effort to reevaluate his assessment of mages and their treatment, if even just to further his detatchment from the order he'd once belonged to, but he couldn't budge on the stance of relations with mages. There was so much risk, so much danger, in becoming more personably involved with one. It made it ludicrously easy to stamp down any affection for the giant, but yet his gaze would wander......To that dark skin, corded muscle rippling beneath it, shining with sweat whenever he indulged the Seeker or the other Tal-Vashoth at Haven in some melee training, either acting as a living practice target for the Seeker, or partitioning the Iron Bull in a friendly match. Full lips parting in a wide grin whenever he successfully evaded his opponent...Cullen let out a puff of steam in the frigid air as he thought of it now, fully blaming the weather for the redness of his face, rather than his errant thoughts.He glanced away from where he'd been staring just a little too intently at the mage while he engaged in conversation with Cassandra nearby, golden eyes shifting back to the recruits paired up and sparring. Where his eyes should be. Not on the Tal-Vashoth that everyone called the Herald of Andraste, however inane a title. Grinding his teeth, Cullen folded his arms and pointedly kept his eyes on the recruits, supervising their training and assisting his lieutenant with correcting their mistakes, as he waited for scouts to report in.Adaar was an unhealthy obsession for Cullen if there ever was one, aside from his most unhealthy addiction to Lyrium, and second only to that.Should it be his luck that none other than Adaar should approach him as he regarded the men bracing with their shields?He strained to keep his eyes on the trainees, as the towering mage stepped lightly along the path leading to the training yard. Maker's breath, does he have to be so tall? Cullen thought, seeing his long horned shadow cast on the ground. But also noticing the nearest recruit not properly using his shield, easily testing his patience. His second didn't notice the slip, nor how he would lose a limb were this an actual combat situation. Or worse, let his opponent gouge his eye out with the blunted sword in his grip."You there! There's a shield in your hand!" he barked, taking out his irritation on the man. "Block with it! If this man were your enemy, you'd be dead!" He turned to the soldier next to him. "Lieutenant, don't hold back! I want them prepared for a real fight, not a practice one!""Yes sir," he nodded.At that moment, Adaar stopped next to Cullen, and folded his arms. Didn't have his staff today. Wouldn't be leaving for a few more days at least, as he only just returned from his last mission, and needed the rest. Not to say that he was idle. The man never rested. Was always preoccupied with something. He seemed interested in the recruits, content to watch them train, but the silence grated on Cullen's nerves. And it was just rude to blatantly ignore the mage like he wasn't there, wasn't it?"We received a number of recruits, locals from Haven, and some pilgrims...though none made quite the entrance you did," he remarked.Adaar huffed a little, nostrils flaring, like a bull snorting...or perhaps a dragon, as the sound he made accompanied a little steam wafting from his nose due to the cold, like smoke from a winged serpent's maw. "Trust me, I never do it on purpose," he said. "But we kossith aren't exactly subtle."Cullen chuckled a little. "No, perhaps not." Absently he started patrolling the training grounds as he spoke, examining the progress of the warriors, Adaar closely following in step. "I was recruited to the Inquisition in Kirkwall, myself," he relayed. "I was there during the mage uprising. I saw first hand the devastation it caused. Cassandra sought a solution. When she offered me a position, I left the Templars to join her cause. Now it seems we face something far worse.""You sound like you really need this to work," Adaar commented, and Cullen turned on his heel to look up at him."We all do," he told him. "The Chantry lost control of both mages and Templars, and now they argue over a new Divine while the Breach remains. The Inquisition could act where the Chantry cannot. Our followers would be a part of that. There's so much we can-" He stopped himself, as he saw Adaar's lips slowly curve upward in an amused sort of grin. Maker, he did sound a bit preachy just then, didn't he? He exhaled a sigh. "Forgive me," he amended. "I doubt you came here for a lecture.""No, but if you have one prepared, I'd love to hear it," Adaar quipped, his sense of humor prevailing over a more gated reply. Cullen chuckled a little. And Adaar's grin widened. Andraste preserve him, but if that smile wasn't so distracting. His heart sped up, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other."Another time, perhaps," he said. Then grasped at straws to keep the conversation flowing. "There's a lot of work ahead," he rambled aimlessly, but to his relief, a runner approached."Commander," said the man. "Ser Rylen's report on the supply lines." He handed Cullen the document in question."As I was saying," he told Adaar, gesturing to the report, and Adaar nodded, taking it as his cue to leave the Commander to his work. Cullen was both relieved and perturbed by the Tal-Vashoth's departure, as he stepped away and wandered off. Relieved that he no longer had to hold idle chat with him, of which he was obviously bad at, but also disappointed the conversation was drawn to a close. He'd hardly the opportunity to really get to know the mage, even just as a friend. And he found he...liked talking to Adaar, surprisingly.They rarely had the oppurtunity to speak outside the war room in the Chantry. Cullen was a bit jealous, for he so often spoke with others individually, and grew somewhat close to those he fought alongside in his travels, but not the Commander. They hadn't the chance to build somewhat a rapport like others at Haven. But perhaps that was for the best, considering there were far more important things to concern him than casual association. And he couldn't afford to be distracted like this. Not at such a crucial time.But yet that disappointment hung in the air like smoke, pungent and suffocating.Another missed oppurtunity.Just once, it would be nice to not feel so cut off from people, so...alone.But perhaps that's exactly what he deserved.To be alone. Not to be distracted by a tall, dark, and admittedly handsome - but dangerous - fire breathing dragon of a man.Of which he loathed to admit he might actually be attracted to.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He lie awake at night, tossing and turning in his cot, sweating, pulse raging in his temples, heart hammering in his chest. A thin layer of moisture coated his brow, and every crevice of his body; under his arms, legs, soaking the sheets beneath him, and his clothes clung to him. It chaffed the skin, leaving him feeling raw and exposed. His body ached, and what felt like a knife driven into the back of his skull drove him insane for most of the night. His blood was like fire, and every slight movement felt like pins and needles under the skin.The lingering Lyrium in his veins was drawn to the surface and searched for more, coveting, craving, ever since the mages arrived at Haven.And with them, more Lyrium to replenish their mana so that they might seal the Breach.All of Haven sang loudly, especially at night.He never gave it much thought most days, as long as he stayed far enough away from it. After the initial sickness, his body purging over and over until there was nothing left to vomit but blood those first few weeks, well...he'd been doing fine. Out of sight, out of mind, and most of the time he never thought of it. He had plenty of other things to distract him from its song. But now, with so much magic, and so much Lyrium, it drove him mad. He could think of nothing else. Especially at night when there was no work to distract him.Fear gripped him tightly, metaphorical fingers clenching his throat, cutting off his air.There were so many mages let loose upon Haven, and not enough people to guard against their magic. Fiona did her best to help to keep them in line - often they flocked to her as their authority still, as she led them in the mage rebellion - but if they should fail, if some of them should prove untrustworthy...should any of them fall to temptation, be corrupted - which would be easier here; they were closer to the Breach and the demons that congregated on the other side, pressing on the thin Veil...Maker, they'd be overrun by abominations. Fall prey to blood magic, to -Cullen shot out of bed in a panic.This was not the first time he'd done so, actually. Since the day Adaar returned from Redcliffe, rebel mages and Tevinter Altus in tow, Cullen had been in a frenzy, rubbing his neck and wringing his hands, pacing back and forth in his tent when no one could see him. He didn't panic in front of everyone. He knew that would make things worse; should his men see him restless - so weak and vulnerable - the situation might escalate. More and more former Templars might also become paranoid of the mages, and in-fighting might ensue.So in private, he panicked, tearing his hair out over all his worries, his body craving the Lyrium song wafting to his quarters from afar. If he took Lyrium he could protect them. He could combat their magic, safeguard the people of Haven. He could -Sweat poured down his face as his mind reeled, simultaneously fighting the urge to bolt from his tent and seek the source of his ire, and talking himself out of it. He started muttering the thoughts aloud, needing the noise to drown the seductive music out, humming and singing, a lark in song, a lute just slightly out of tune. It used to be in tune when his blood sang along with Lyrium, but now that it was empty, and the fog had cleared in his mind, he noticed just how slightly uneven the notes. Maker! Stop singing! he begged silently.You were born for this, the song sang to him. Made for this. This is your calling, Templar. The Maker chose you for this purpose. Fulfill it. Feel whole and complete. You're a broken, and empty, useless vessel, you need to be filled.He exhaled raggedly, wiping his hand across his face soaked in sweat. His blood itched and burned, made his skin crawl, like a thousand tiny insects skittering over his body and he shuttered at the feeling.I should be taking it, he thought. I should be taking Lyrium, and defending Haven from these abominations!He bolted out of his tent, wearing nothing but his under-armor, metal plates, greaves and pauldrons, as well as his cloak, completely forgotten. The fresh hair helped to wake him up slightly, and clear some of the Lyrium fog, but instead of giving him clarity, all it did was make him crave that fog again. He wanted that warmth, that sweetness of song, that lull of Lyrium to calm him. He needed it. Desperately. It was right there, just over there, in the supply tent. Just a few quick steps, and he would have what he desired.He marched quickly across the yard, boots crunching the hardened snow, the sound harsh and grating in his ears. In the stillness and quiet it was all he could hear, and sounded so loud. No doubt all of Haven could hear his steps, and the more he tried to be quiet, the more he fumbled, first bumping against the lining of the tent, then tripping over the taglines securing the lining, and finally barreling headfirst into someone he didn't even see rounding the corner. Apparently he wasn't the only one haunting the training yard so late at night.He yelped in surprise, and instinctively reached for the sword anchored at his belt, only to find he'd left it in his tent, in the seconds it took to realize the big hulking creature he'd bumped into was Adaar."Maker's breath," he exhaled."Sorry," Adaar amended in the same moment.Then silence, as both stared at the other.His heart raced in his chest, thoughts turning first to 'mage, apostate, magic, Lyrium', but quickly they faded into 'big, muscular, towering dragon' and then finally to 'Herald'. "Are you alright?" Adaar asked, concern softening his features. Cullen's mind scrambled for purchase, and his mouth fumbled to speak. Instinct was telling him to defend himself against the apostate in his path, the thin, tenuous webs of Lyrium laced in his veins fighting to rise to the surface, but a few thoughts kept him at bay.He had no reason to fear Adaar. It was irrational to fear him. He was not a Qunari enforcer, he was not a blood mage, and he was not a demon. Bloody Void, he didn't even have any Lyrium inside him. Cullen noticed that fact, that the music was nonexistent within Adaar; he was completely silent. He never took Lyrium like Circle mages. It put him at a disadvantage in the field, when on the rare occasion he was outnumbered and drained of mana, but rather than stain his body with Lyrium, he simply reverted to using his golden staff as a melee weapon instead.Which was likely why it was entirely metallic, instead of wooden like most apprentice staves. It was stronger. Might have been easier to pick enemies apart with magic, and take Lyrium, but he didn't. The substance in Cullen's own blood receded, though a prickling sensation overwhelmed him. Adaar was standing right in front of him, broad chest exposed, and he stared down at him like a real dragon eyeing its prey. He could see Cullen was on the defensive, fists clenched, anticipating attack, and so therefore so was he.Cullen forced himself to relax. "I'm fine," he assured, and Adaar finally relaxed a little, shifting his stance from imposing to its usual stature."You sure?" he questioned, furrowing his dark brow, and Cullen gave a jerk of a nod."What are you doing out here?" he asked, glancing around, noticing the grounds were completely devoid of life. There were two night watchmen at the gate, and nestled up in the hills above Haven scouts patrolled, keeping watch on the valley, but all was silent and still otherwise, the occupants of Haven fast asleep in their beds."Couldn't sleep," Adaar shrugged."It...must be difficult for you," Cullen remarked.Adaar glanced up at the Breach in the distance, then deep brown eyes made their way back to Cullen. "I see I'm not the only one." He gestured to the whole of Cullen standing before him, and the Commander sighed, then nodded."I'll sleep better when the Breach is closed."He glanced up at it, and wondered if perhaps it were simply the demons on the other side, amplifying his already unstable thoughts, influencing him somehow, making him lust after Lyrium so wantonly. The fog cleared entirely just then and he realized how foolish he'd been acting. How fearful, and paranoid, for almost no reason at all. It was ridiculous to think Haven would be overrun by abominations. They'd taken every precaution to ensure the safety of Haven, and so far, none of the mages have acted strangely.Maker, he'd been an idiot."I must apologize," he said to Adaar. "I'm...not myself this evening. So much has happened, we're left with more questions than answers, and now a flock of mages to govern.""There's no reason to apologize," Adaar assured him, then started walking slowly, strolling down the lane, and absently Cullen followed. "I understand. I know you don't like the idea of these Circle mages running about." Of which you're to blame for, Cullen thought. "Cassandra doesn't like it either, but if we start locking them up or watching their every move like they're a bunch of prisoners, they'll start acting like prisoners. They'll riot. They just want freedom. They just want to be normal, like everyone else.""I know that," Cullen told him. "But there were some advantages to being under the protection of Templars. There is nothing to stop them should they get out of hand. And being so close to the Breach, they are at greater risk of being possessed.""I get it," Adaar nodded.They continued walking, silent for a time, and that punchy feeling in Cullen's gut began to dissipate. He and Adaar had spoken much more often since Redcliffe, and the more they spoke, the more relaxed around the Herald Cullen became. It was a relief. They were finally starting to be friends, not just Commander of the Inquisition, and Herald of Andraste. As long as he ignored his illogical attraction to the giant, Cullen greatly enjoyed his company. He was smart, resourceful, and reasonable. Able to think objectively, and ignore bias.Cullen liked that about him the most. That he considered all sides of an argument before making a decision. And he had a sense of humor. He took his role in the Inquisition seriously, no doubt about that, and he never made light of a serious matter, but still he had this carefree disposition most days, like nothing in life ever weighed him down. Cullen didn't know how he managed it, was often jealous of it, but it put him at ease. When Adaar made a joke, it was easier to cope with a situation. It broke the tension that wound them up.He was like the Inquisition's keeper, of sorts. He was the person that listened to everyone's problems and had the solution. Rather than coming to others for advice, often it was Adaar that gave advice. Of course he was curious, and of course he asked questions, asked about their lives, their pasts, their beliefs, their interests, but when a situation arose that couldn't be resolved, Adaar would cut through the tension in the air with that deep rumbling baritone and figure it out. Somehow, he always had the answer.Varric accused him of being a veritable know-it-all, like the Champion of Kirkwall he'd swoop in and tell you everything you didn't know you needed to know about a situation. Cullen smirked a little at the thought. Above him, Adaar asked, "You ever regret it?" Cullen looked up. "Joining the Inquisition?" he clarified. "Leaving your old life behind?""No," he shook his head. "I don't regret the decision I made."And he realized that was true. He didn't regret a thing. When he thought about the work they were doing, all they had accomplished so far, and how much was changing right before their eyes, Cullen couldn't bring himself to regret the direction his life had went. It was what kept him focused, kept him grounded. They slowly made their way to the pier that overlooked the lake as they talked, steps almost but not quite in sync as their length of strides were different. Adaar slowed to the pace of a snail so that Cullen could keep up with him though."Do you regret it?" Cullen asked. Adaar shrugged."I didn't have much of a choice," he reminded."Well, I understand that, but...well, I just meant do you miss it? Your old life? Do wish another had been chosen as Herald instead?"Adaar thought about that. "Not really," he said. "I've met some interesting people." He glanced at Cullen. "Shokrakar is pissed to all end though. I was one of her best. She's losing money without me. But she understands I'm needed here."He held up his left hand to inspect the mark in his palm. None of them ever realized just how much they needed him until after Redcliffe. But just knowing how terrible it would've been without him, that the Inquisition would fail without him, was enough to eradicate any lingering doubts.Cullen sighed. He was far enough away from the village that he no longer heard the hum and drum of the Lyrium in its crates, and it was a blissful reprieve from the sound, standing next to Adaar. The coil in his chest loosened, and all those nagging thoughts finally ceased, for the time being. Just one more night, he reminded himself. One more night and then its over. We seal the Breach, and move on with our lives. Figure out the future of the mages, the Inquisition, deal with the Chantry. Deal with the Templars.
Just one more night and I'm free.
Across from him, Adaar leaned against a post and eyed him intrinsically. Without the lull of Lyrium to distract him, he was hyper-aware of Adaar's presence.Maker, he was attractive.That familiar flip in his stomach surfaced again, and a blush crept over him.Perhaps, when this is over, I can figure this out too, he thought."So, do Templars take vows of chastity?" Adaar asked, changing the subject, and Cullen blinked."What? Uh, no?" he rubbed the back of his neck."What about former Templars?" Adaar asked, grinning mischievously, and Cullen's blush deepened in color."Why do you ask?"Adaar shrugged. "Curious," he said. "It would explain a lot about you.""What do you mean?"Adaar chuckled. "It would make sense, is all I'm saying. Because you blush like a virgin, Commander," he said.Cullen scowled. "That's highly inappropriate, Herald," he reminded.But inside he smiled. Adaar did have a way with lightening the mood. And at least he was no longer thinking about Lyrium.Instead, his thoughts went to another subject he'd been unable to avoid.His growing attraction to Adaar.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He folded his arms and leaned against the post behind him, trying to stamp down the redness in his cheeks, but miserably failing.He felt so exposed out here, without armor or a weapon, not so much as a shield to buffer, and standing so unbearably close to such an intimidating figure, and his pulse raced. Some small part of him was on the defensive still, but yet the larger part of him was feeling vulnerable for a completely different reason. One that had nothing to do with the Tal-Vashoth being a mage, and nothing to do with Cullen's lack of defense against any attack. But had everything to do with Adaar's piercing gaze.He felt so small under that gaze. So helpless. And so utterly inept.But at least he was no longer driven mad by the cravings. Now, he just felt exhausted. Like he'd run the length of Haven and back again twice over without stopping. He still had those little aches and pains that simply came with working himself to death, a nagging sense that it was more than fatigue, but the Lyrium affliction, though it was nothing an elfroot potion wouldn't fix. Nothing the cool breeze winding its way through the mountains wouldn't stave. As much as he detested close proximity to the giant, it was a much needed distraction.If only he could keep his eyes from wandering to that broad chest, those arms, shoulders, the exposed abdomen, muscles taught, and that mouth. Maker, that mouth."I'm not a virgin," he swore."I never said that. I just said you blush like one.""It's just cold out here," he detested, once more blaming the weather for his burning face, but it wasn't the weather. In fact, moments ago he'd been sweating, and the chill of the Frostbacks had been a welcomed respite. Adaar snorted a little."Yeah, sure," he said with a smile.He had this mischievous grin on his face, always possessed this childlike affluence that Cullen could never wrap his head around. The Commander rolled his eyes, and cracked just the barest of smiles at Adaar. His joviality was quite infectious, and no matter what he said or did, it was hard to remain infuriated with him for long. Even weeks ago, when Cullen accused him of siding with the mages due to personal bias, Adaar had reassured him it was no such thing, and even managed to convince Cullen it was a good idea.It was. Maker only knew what fate would befall the mages were they enslaved to the Venatori and the Imperium. Cullen couldn't regret intervening when they did. Cullen sighed, defeated, knowing he would lose this argument, and would in no way convince the mage he was just chilly. He rubbed his arms a little, as if truly fighting a chill and soaked in the scenery before them. He could walk away, find another quiet place to ponder things, or he could change the subject. He chose a change in subject.They'd discussed many things since their first one-on-one conversation, Adaar often asking questions about Cullen's past, mostly his history with the Templars, and mages, but never once did Cullen think to inquire of Adaar's. It never really seemed necessary. And the more he asked, the more he left himself open to questions as well. And there were just some things he didn't wish to talk about. He assumed the same could be said of Adaar, that he just didn't feel like sharing, but Cullen had already missed too many opportunities.He didn't want to miss anymore.He wanted to know Adaar. Not the Herald of Andraste that traveled around Ferelden closing rifts, or attended war meetings with the Inquisition's advisers. But the Tal-Vashoth hired on to assist the Chantry with keeping the peace at the Conclave.The person he was before the Conclave."So how did you meet Shokrakar?" he asked Adaar.It was the giant's turn to fluster a little, gnawing on his bottom lip, and reaching up to fiddle with the long braid of coal black hair that fell down between his shoulder blades. "She saved me," he said."From what?" Cullen asked.He gave his answer some thought, but finally shrugged, smiling a little, and said, "Well, in a way, myself, I suppose."Well, that was intriguing, to say the least. "What happened to you?"He watched Adaar sigh, and turn his attention to the frozen lake before them, the mountains in the distance, to the sky. Deep in thought for a moment. Then he pulled a pipe from his pocket. Did a rather fascinating little trick, somehow lighting the pipe with his magic as he puffed on it. To Cullen's amusement he exhaled through his nose, and once more the giant resembled a brooding dragon, but he looked somewhat serious, and his expression darkened, all humor gone."I'm what the Iron Bull pretends to be," he finally said, and his words threw Cullen for a loop."Tal-Vashoth?" he asked, heart fluttering just a little. "You were part of the Qun?"Slowly, Adaar nodded. "Saarebas," he said. "You've seen them before?"Cullen nodded. An inkling of lingering trepidation rose up, but he was far too curious at the moment, and had to know more. He waited patiently for Adaar to speak again, all previous thought having left his head. Completely enthralled by the story to follow."When Shokrakar found me I was...well, a wreck," he then said. "I was not...not the person I am today. Far from it. Shokrakar is Vashoth. You know, never been Qunari? But her father had been under the Qun, so she knew a lot about it. They knew what I was, what the Qun had made me to be. They freed me, their mage healers patched me up. Did a bang up job of it too, I'd say." He raised a brow in surprise. "I didn't know how to be...free. Didn't know what to do with myself. How to act. Shokrakar and her father had to teach me."Cullen studied him for a moment. "You've...certainly changed," he remarked. "I never would've guessed." Adaar's face cracked into a smile once more, some of that dark cloud lifting. "Does Bull know about it?"Adaar shrugged. "If he does, he hasn't said anything. I doubt he would mention it to anyone. Not so many people would trust me if they knew...That a saarebas is allowed to run free, with a mark on his hand connected to the Breach and the rifts throughout Thedas? Not something people would want to know. The Chantry would lose their minds if they knew. I'm sure that's why your Spymaster looks at me the way she does. And I'm sure the Qun has their own opinion on that subject too."A new expression flashed across his features for a moment when he glanced at Cullen. Something the Commander had never seen before. It seemed evident Cullen wasn't the only one feeling exposed."You're now wondering if you can actually trust me, aren't you?" he asked quietly, then took another puff from his pipe, smoke wafting, the smell of burnt elfroot closing the space between them. Cullen cleared his throat."Uh, no actually," he said, to Adaar's surprise. "I - it's just...you're so...normal."Adaar burst with a chuckle, smoke escaping between ivory whites. "Normal," he repeated, shaking his head in denial. "I'm anything but, Commander. To the Chantry, I'm a monster, to the Qun, I'm absolutely insane, and to you, well, I'm not human. So...I'm not normal to anyone's standards.""I just meant you're...you're just...I didn't expect you to - to be -""I think get what you're trying to say. How can I be so calm, and reasonable, right?"Cullen sputtered. "Yes.""Bull's not the only one good at pretending." He grinned, and clamped down on the pipe with his teeth.Cullen tried to picture it. Adaar wrapped in chains, arms and hands pinned behind him, unable to move or speak without someone showing him how. But rather than be afraid of him, he just couldn't help but pity him, especially after getting to know him. Standing before Adaar, he didn't see a beast, he saw a person. He'd long abandoned the errant thought of mages being anything less than people, knowing it was just Meredyth's influence, and his own paranoia over the years that led him to ever believe that in the first place.It was the Lyrium. And the withdrawal.It was the demons that haunted him.It was Uldred.Adaar wasn't the monster. Cullen had been."You don't always have to pretend, you know," he said, again surprising Adaar. He lifted a brow. "You can just be yourself. You're a good man, from what I've seen. I'm sure others see it as well. You don't have to hide what you were, Adaar."He nodded a little, somewhat like a 'thank you'. Appreciative of the sentiment. "Ataashi," he said, and Cullen blinked in confusion. "My first name is Ataashi. It's strange hearing people use my surname. Adaar was Shokrakar's father.""You took his name?" Cullen asked, and he nodded."I did. He was like a father to me as well. Saarebas aren't given names. We're not considered individuals, like you. That would be like naming each and every sword in a crate of them, instead of just calling them 'swords'. He called me Kaaras, 'navigator', but when I got older, learned more about the world, gained a sense of self, I wanted my own name. Something of my choosing. Ataashi, son of Adaar. Or, as you would say, Ataashi Adaar.""What does Ataashi mean?"He smirked. "It means 'dragon'." How poetic. Cullen couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. Of course, he thought. Of course his name is Dragon. He seemed to know what Cullen was thinking on that matter, based on his expression. "You like it? Bull gets a kick out of it too," he said. "He says it suits me. I take it as compliment. Dragons are greatly respected by Qunari, you know."And it has nothing to do with the fact that you look like one, Cullen thought ruefully, but he didn't say it aloud."So, Cullen, ever ridden a dragon?" Adaar asked, and the Commander balked at the question."What?! Of course not!""Do you want to?""How would one even accomplish that, exactly?"Adaar merely smiled, flashing ivory white teeth, eyes holding a gleam just then. "It's easy," he said. "You just grab both horns, and hold on tight." Such words made Cullen's eyes roll involuntarily, thinking the Tal-Vashoth were merely joking, until the giant leaned in closer, his voice dropping suggestively low in timbre. "What do you say, Commander? Wanna take me for a ride?"What? Take him for a...Oh! He meant...Maker's breath, Cullen thought, cheeks a bright crimson. He swallowed nervously, the words, "Yes, very much so," on the tip of his tongue...No! he chastened himself internally. Had he not already disregarded the idea of becoming involved with him? Why did he suddenly want to? How would that even work, exactly? Would Adaar expect him to bend over and...Sweet Maker! he cursed, trying to perish the thought. No, no I really don't think I want to do that. "Uh, I'll just stick to riding horses, thank you," he quipped."Oh you're no fun," the giant pouted. "Come on, Cullen, I know you like me, and I like you. What's the problem?...Is it that I'm a giant? Or that I'm a mage?""What?! No! No, I...uhm," he rubbed the back of his neck. Shit, he knows I like him? Have I been that obvious?...Wait, he likes me as well? Maker's breath. "I - I don't think -""Relax, Commander, I'm not offended," Adaar said, though his eyes spoke differently. He huffed, then tapped his pipe on the post to empty it of ashes. "Well, we should probably get some rest. Big day tomorrow.""Uh, yes, good idea," Cullen mumbled. Adaar started to walk away, but Cullen was hesitant to leave the pier. "Goodnight," he called, and Adaar dipped his head. He continued walking, but stopped to turn back after a moment."You know, I bet if you gave me five minutes, I could change your mind," he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, grinning, and once more Cullen blushed and stammered. Adaar chuckled, and turned away. Oh but now Cullen was curious."Five minutes? What could you possibly accomplish in only five minutes?" he couldn't help but ask, and Adaar shot him a novel worthy look, biting his lip. There was no mistaking the intent behind that look."You ever wanna find out, you let me know," he said, and walked away.Cullen shook his head at him.Oh but dammit, now he wanted to know.Maker give me strength, he prayed.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
After Haven was attacked, the Inquisition started over at Skyhold.It was a new beginning for the surviving members, a fresh start for some, and a blessing for others. But many were still recovering from the events that capsized the organization. While many looked forward to the future ahead, some were still buried in that devastation, like the bodies of those buried in the avalanche that bought them time to escape. Cullen Rutherford was one of such people, whose mind was still circling around that fateful night, even as he shouldered the burden of preparing their troops for the days ahead.They'd lost so many good men and women, and more often than not, Cullen wondered how he could've saved them, what more he could've done. The same as he shouldered the burden, he shouldered the blame for the attack. Had his men been vigilant that night, instead of celebrating, perhaps they would've been better prepared, and more people would've survived. He wasn't the only one to blame themselves, of course. Leliana did as well, regretting her decision to pull her scouts back, but Cullen still lost sleep at night.There was only the day ahead to keep his mind from wandering to such dark places.The Inquisition was in better spirits since the Herald assumed the mantle of Inquisitor, however. He was an inspiration to the people; strong, dedicated and determined, as well as incredibly selfless to have been willing to sacrifice himself, staying behind so that the others could escape. The way he boldly marched out of the Chantry, alone, unafraid, to face that devil of a dragon. Cullen would never forget his parting words either. "That dragon isn't the only one with fire, Commander," he'd said, with a smile, before heading out.As if he were running out to chase chickens, not single-handedly face off a dragon so they could make their exit.Unbelievable, that one.Even in the face of death, he remained ever stoic.Cullen thought that would be the last he'd ever see of Ataashi Adaar, the Dragon of the Inquisition.But he lifted his amber eyes from where they rested on the building plans spread out before him to spot glistening horns, obsidian in the blaring sunlight, across the lower bailey, and saw the kossith in debate with Cassandra, Vivienne, and Solas. He couldn't hear their conversation, but no one looked particularly happy about the topic at hand. He was no longer wearing black and gold antaam-saar, and no longer carried a golden dragon staff, as his gear had been damaged in battle, and his staff lost somewhere in the avalanche.Instead he wore a cotton tunic with the sleeves torn off, and a pair of slacks. He was covered head to toe in sweat and grime from assisting the builders with clearing out the rubble in the keep. He looked irritated, and as he'd lost his pipe back at Haven, he clenched a small sliver of wood between his teeth in place of it, squinting his eyes when the sun hit his face. Yes, Cullen had thought he would never see Adaar ever again, but alas there he stood, alive and well, towering over the Seeker and their cohorts.Cullen reverted his attention to the parchment in front of him, biting the inside of his cheek.They hadn't spoken since before the attack. That night, on the dock, was the last time Cullen held private council with the man. He'd thought perhaps to speak to him after the Breach was sealed, to at least explain his erratic behavior that night, but when he'd finally worked up the nerve to talk to Adaar, it was that moment he spotted torches in the mountains above the valley, and signaled the watchmen on the walls of an attack. It seemed the Maker had other plans for Cullen, and those plans did not include Adaar.His window of opportunity had closed.Now, they faced a formidable enemy, an army of Templars infected with Red Lyrium, lead by an ancient darkspawn Magister with his very own pet dragon. Not that the Inquisition's dragon wasn't lethal, but this one had wings. Adaar now led the organization, and was tasked with a greater responsibility than even that of Herald of Andraste. Skyhold Keep was in ruin, having been abandoned years upon years ago, and would take a considerable amount of time, money, and effort to maintain. To name a few concerns.There was too much to focus on, but Cullen did regret never telling Adaar the truth. That perhaps what he felt for the giant went beyond mere friendship, but it was too late now. No use ever bringing it up. Not when there was so much on his plate that mattered more. Not when it was impossible now. So he ignored the pang in his gut same as he ignored the throbbing in his temples, as a runner reported to his station, saying, "Commander, soldiers have been assigned temporary quarters.""Very good," Cullen told the young man, and added, "I'll need an update on the armory as well."The boy nodded, but still stood there a moment longer, absently scratching himself, like an imbecile, grating on the Commander's nerves."Now," he barked, and the runner scurried off, as Adaar was wandering over. He glanced up to see the towering dragon's curious gaze following the runner that just left.Adaar huffed a little and asked, "How's it coming?"Cullen kneaded his brow. "We set up as best we could at Haven," he said. "But we could never prepare for an Archdemon, or...whatever that was. With some warning, we might've..." He sighed. There had been no warning. And it was foolish to think Haven ever stood a chance. "If Corypheus strikes again, we may not be able to withdraw. And I wouldn't want to. We must be ready. With work on Skyhold underway, and guard rotations established, we should have everything on course within the week. We will not run from here, Inquisitor."Both men blinked rapidly at how easily the title had rolled off Cullen's tongue. Inquisitor. Well, it was certainly easier to say than Herald of Andraste, of which neither man ever gave much consideration to. Adaar flat-out denied the possibility of being delivered from the Fade by the Maker's bride, and the idea did seem a bit far-fetched. It was just a moniker at this point, but Inquisitor, on the other hand, was a bit more substantial. And well-earned, at that, in the Commander's opinion. There were few that could dispute that.He'd led them thus far, and now it was simply official."Yeah, I don't ever plan on repeating what happened any time soon," Adaar commented, moving to lean against the table beside Cullen. Hunched over like he was, the height was slightly less of a bother, and slightly easier on Cullen's neck. "I saw you give those names to Leliana earlier. A long list. We lost a lot of people. I'm almost afraid to ask how many."Cullen nodded a little. "Most of our people did make it to Skyhold," he said. "It could've been worse. Morale was low, but has improved greatly since you accepted the role of Inquisitor."Adaar shrugged, and stared off into the empty courtyard. He looked grim. Had been that way ever since the attack. As if something killed the last spark of good humor Adaar had in him. Though Cullen didn't know what specifically, it could've been any number of things. The hardship they endured had taken its toll on everyone, including him. "Yeah, well, I'm glad you made it," he said. "These people would've been lost without your direction.""My direction?" Cullen questioned, incredulously. "I do believe it was your bold decision to stay behind that got us safely out of Haven, Inquisitor."Adaar huffed. "But it was you that lead them out," he reminded. "Without you, there would've been no one and nothing waiting for me in that blizzard. It should've been you holding that sword, Commander. You accepting the role of Inquisitor."Cullen sighed. He didn't realize Adaar felt that way. That he didn't deserve the title of command bestowed upon him. But Cullen felt he did. He wholeheartedly supported Cassandra when she suggested they award that title to the Tal-Vashoth. It was Leliana and Josephine that questioned the decision. Leliana argued that it would dent the Inquisition's reputation to have a faithless Qunari leading them. Not her own words, of course, hers were much more delicate, but they implied that stance on the subject.Josephine questioned his ability to handle the day to day tasks of leading them, everything from the politics to the pleasantries. She doubted he could handle the pressure, and much like Cullen, he had absolutely no patience for nobility. He preferred a direct approach to any problem, and had no care for political intrigue, let alone the Grand Game Orlesians were fond of playing. He preferred forthrightness, and seeing as he was their only means of sealing rifts, he would not be able to maintain a steady presence at Skyhold.But Cassandra and Cullen both had a counter argument to this, and it was finally agreed that he was far more suitable than any alternative.But Adaar himself questioned the decision, it seemed.Cullen sighed. "You will not face this alone," he assured. "You will have our support. No one will expect you to take on the position singlehandedly. We stand with you."Adaar nodded a little in grim acceptance of his words, though still didn't look completely convinced by them. "Thanks," he mumbled. Cullen nodded.He wanted to say something then, but he didn't know what to say. He owed this man everything. His loyalty. His life. And he admired how frivolously Adaar would've thrown his away, for strangers he barely knew. Simply because it was the right thing to do. That tightness in Cullen's gut intensified for a moment, and his heart raced in his chest. He knew he could not act on this feeling, and could not offer more than friendship, but Maker how he wished he could. He wished it were as simple as saying, 'Yes.'Adaar pushed himself off the desk and started to walk away."You stayed behind," Cullen told him, causing him to turn. "When you could've..."Adaar blinked quizzically in confusion. Cullen swallowed."I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again," he promised. "You have my word."Adaar jerked his head once in a nod, but stalked away, leaving Cullen to his work. For some reason, that only made him feel worse. He in no way felt relieved by their conversation's end. He wanted things to be different. But they couldn't be, could they? All he could ever offer was his loyalty, his promise. And that dark cloud would forever hover over them. It couldn't possibly have worked out in their favor, at any rate. Lions and Dragons were very different creatures, no fitting match.And Cullen sank in despair at the thought.He pushed through the rest of his day as if there were no issue, but once he'd a moment to himself, he sought out Cassandra in the training yard. He found her hacking and slashing at a straw target, looking quite flustered over something, and at a guess, it had to do with Varric's latest slip. Cullen could admit, it vexed him as well that Varric should bring his former associate to Skyhold. But it was a matter best reserved for the Seeker and the Inquisitor to deal with. He stopped short of the warrior, who paused in her training."Something the matter?" she asked."Might I speak with you?" he requested, and she nodded, then jerked her head toward the steps leading up to the battlements.He desperately needed her advice, for if anyone knew how to handle this situation, it would be the former Right Hand of the Divine.After all, he did trust her with his most treasured secrets.He followed her up the steps and to an unoccupied area of the ramparts, where there weren't as many eyes and ears, and therefore any way that what he spoke of would be overheard. Cassandra leaned against the wall overlooking the intimidating drop below, and rested her elbows on the cold stone. Cullen absently gripped the hilt of his blade, a reflexive action, one that kept his hands from shaking, betraying his unease. "What did you wish to speak to me about?" Cassandra asked, and Cullen took a deep breath."I...may have feelings for the Inquisitor," he admitted.He was met with crickets.He glanced over to see the Seeker's jaw had dropped, and instantly regretted ever speaking his thoughts.A little too late to take it back, however.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Cullen Rutherford was never one to make light of something such as admitting to having feelings for another man. While he could be crass, occassionally sarcastic, and even quite cynical in regards to certain subjects, the Inquisition's Commander was not known for jokes such as this. So when he confessed to Cassandra that he was attracted to Inquisitor Adaar, the Seeker took him at his word. He'd never told anyone of his affections before. This was the first he'd ever spoken of it, aloud, to anyone.Cassandra gaped in shock for a moment at his words, momentarily frozen, but quickly she covered up her surprise with throat clearing, glancing away. This was terribly awkward, for both of them, but Cullen felt she had a right to know, considering she was the one to recruit him back in Kirkwall, and she was the one he trusted to monitor his Lyrium withdrawal. She was the one to elect Adaar as Inquisitor, and she, better than anyone, would give him sound, logical advice free of judgement. And she wouldn't gossip about it either.Of anyone, she was the closest Cullen had to what he would consider a friend. Perhaps the closest friend he'd ever had in his life. Close enough that he felt comfortable with telling her this in the first place, and while part of him regretted it...a small part of him was actually relieved. It was like a weight had been lifted from his chest, now that it was out in the open, like breathing fresh air for the first time in years. But even as he'd said the words, he was still coming to terms with it. That he, Cullen Rutherford, liked other men."What sort of feelings?" Cassandra inquired.Cullen stuttered. "The - the romantic sort," he mumbled, and Cassandra's eyes widened even further."Maker," she breathed, in shock."You think less of me now," Cullen remarked with some derision, and the Seeker gasped."What?! No!" she rushed to assure him, pushing herself off the patch of wall she leaned against, stepping closer. "No, I just...I never knew you preferred such company," she said - to his relief - wringing her gloved hands in angst. "This is the first I've heard of it."Cullen let out the breath he was unaware of holding thus far."That's because you're the first I've told of it," he said, and she nodded as if to say, 'Ah, I see.' And he still wasn't entirely sure if he would prefer Adaar's company. All he knew was that he could think of so little else most days. If he wasn't weighted down with the Inquisition's troubles, then it was his inexplicable attraction to the giant that festered. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck for a moment. "I'm...not really sure what to do about it, and I had hoped to hear your thoughts on the matter.""My thoughts?"Cullen nodded. Then he sighed. "It's...highly inappropriate, isn't it?" he asked."That depends on your definition of inappropriate," she answered with a shrug. "Is the Inquisitor aware of your feelings toward him?"Cullen chewed on his lip a little. Sort of? He'd made a guess of it, back at Haven, but Cullen refused his advances. He didn't know that in the days to follow, his affections had only grown. And no longer was it only physical attraction, but something far deeper he was beginning to feel for the man... "No?" he finally answered."You haven't told him?""I did just say you're the first to hear of this," he reminded."Right, right, of course," she nodded. "So, do you plan to tell him?"Cullen shrugged. "Should I?" he asked. "He's - I mean - I'm...erm...I'm not sure I should.""Why not?" Cassandra questioned, and at this point, Cullen was far too flustered to speak. This was so embarrassing! He smeared a hand across his reddened face.He had thought the conversation would take a different turn than this.As a matter of fact, he thought Cassandra would immediately shut down any notion of romance between the two. Either she'd laugh at the absurdity of it, or start a lecture on how unseemly it would be for the Commander of the Inquisition and its leader to fraternize. How inappropriate it would be. And it would be just the dose of reality he needed to put him back on the right path, and turn him away from this silly notion altogether. But she did no such thing. In fact, she didn't seem too disapproving at all."I...do you approve of this?" he inquired, quirking a brow."Well, I don't disapprove," she shrugged. "Granted, it's a little...unorthodox, but we must take what solace where we can, in times like these. Perhaps it would be good for you. And if Adaar feels the same way as you, I see no reason why you shouldn't be together." She smiled a little. "I've seen the way he looks at you. I'm certain he feels the same." She said that as if she meant to reassure him his affections would be returned, if he had any doubt. That his time wouldn't be wasted on the man. He doubled over in disbelief."But he's..." He's kossith! He isn't human! He's another male! And he's....Maker's breath, he's so much bigger than me! He'd break me in half, and I'd be insane to sleep with him!... "He's the Inquisitor," he argued, but Cassandra held up a hand."I am aware of this," she said. "And true, that it would be difficult to manage a relationship given your demanding positions, and some might consider it a conflict of interests, but I see no reason why it couldn't work. As I said, we must take these moments where we can.""But he's a mage.""And?""And...is that not dangerous?""It would be if Adaar were malificar," she said. "But he's not dangerous, at least not to the Inquisition, that is. I can't say the same for his enemies. Things have changed. This is not the Circle of Magi. And you are no longer a Templar, Cullen. It is no longer your duty to govern mages. You don't have to keep your distance from him.""He's...we're so different.""Are you trying to convince me, or yourself, of these things?" Cassandra asked him, leaning her head to the side in confusion. "All these excuses...It sounds to me like you're not looking for my approval, or my opinion at all, but rather it sounds to me that you don't want to have these feelings for him, and you want a reason to keep your distance. Pardon my impertinence, Cullen, but truly, you are being ridiculous. If you want to be with him, be with him, if not, then don't. Make up your mind!"She threw up her hands as if losing an argument, and he groaned."No, it's not...it's just that...Maker, why is this so confusing?" he asked himself. Then he sighed. "Look, the truth is, I don't know how I feel," he admitted. "All I know is that I can't stop thinking about him, and if I persue this, it could change everything...And," He massaged the kink in his neck, "Well, I've never been with another man before. I've been curious, of course, but I've never actually...you know. That. And he's so intimidating; he makes me feel so small whenever I'm near him. I don't like that feeling."Cassandra studied him for a moment, then said, "Ah. I see. You...have no experience, and you're not sure if you would find his company...appealing?" she asked carefully, and Cullen read between the lines. "And you don't like the idea of being the 'fair maiden'?" she added with a smirk, and Cullen couldn't help but snort at that."More or less," he sighed. Cassandra nodded. "I just...I'm so confused," he lamented, leaning against the wall.Cassandra sighed and put a hand on his armored shoulder in reassurance. "Well, regardless of how you handle this, Cullen, you have my support," she said to him. "As I said, I do not think less of you. I would never think less of you for that. Perhaps you need more time to think. Maybe after the Inquisitor returns from Crestwood, the two of you can resolve this."Cullen sighed, and slowly nodded. "Thank you," he told her."You are welcome," she said, and started to walk away, but stopped, and turned back to him. "No one will think less of you, Cullen. Whatever doubts you may have, you should disregard them. If this is what you want, and the two of you can make each other happy, I think that is all that matters.""You don't think the Maker would disapprove?" he asked, and she snorted."There is nothing in the Chant of Light that speaks against it," she shrugged, then walked away.Cullen sighed.Well, that much was true.The days Adaar spent in Crestwood were some of the longest days of Cullen's life.He'd resolved to tell him the truth upon his return. Everything he spoke of to Cassandra, he would tell Adaar. His fears, his uncertainties, and the reasons behind his hesitation. Whether or not anything came of it, he felt Adaar deserved at least that much from him. Once the bridge leading from the keep to the battlements was repaired, the Commander resigned himself to the watchtower at the end of it. The position was perfect, centrally located, and the room above the office was livable.As well as from there, he would see the away party arriving, and be notified the moment Adaar returned.But the day he arrived, their private conversation would have to wait, on account of the report he received not minutes before from one of the Spymaster's scouts, a matter that greatly concerned him. Raleigh Samson was alive. He'd not perished in the battle at Haven, was still out there somewhere, and they had a lead on one of his supply shipments of Red Lyrium. If they could trace the shipments to their source, and cut off his supply, not only would they weaken the Templars immensely, but they might get a fix on his location.The moment Samson's name came across the page, everything else was suddenly secondary to Cullen. Nothing mattered more than taking down his wretched ex-compatriot, and bringing him to justice. A horn blew in the distance, signalling the return of the Inquisitor and his companions, and immediately Cullen marched out of his office, stepping out onto the battlements to inspect the scene. There he was, horns jutting out from atop his head, dark skin concealed away behind even darker leather battlemage armor.Cullen stole a breath, then rushed down the steps toward the gate.He met the Inquisitor as he was dismounting, his armored charger shifting restlessly, eager to get to the comfy stable, to be untacked, rubbed down and fed. Dennet and a stablehand were waiting to do just that, and lead their mounts away. Adaar tossed a heavy looking saddlebag over one shoulder as Cullen was approaching. Next to him, Varric and Cassandra were dismounting, both groaning over little aches and pains from riding. They shot one another a brief glance, but said nothing untoward."Inquisitor," Cullen greeted the man, who nodded in response. He looked tired, much more so than he usually did after a mission, but perhaps he'd always looked such a way, only Cullen was just more acutely aware of the giant's idiosyncrasies as of late. "Might I have a word with you?" the Commander requested, and when the Inquisitor obliged, he proceeded to lead him to the watchtower on the wall. He ushered him inside and closed the door, walking quickly to the desk to pick up the report in regards to Samson."I know you've only just returned from Crestwood, but I fear this matter couldn't wait," he said, handing Adaar the document in hand, flustering only just a little when his fingers brushed Cullen's briefly. He cleared his throat. "According to Leliana's people, Raleigh Samson is alive, and smuggling Red Lyrium.""The leader of the Red Templars," came Adaar's deep voice as he read the parchment. He crumpled the paper in his fist and scowled. "Corypheus' general," he growled, obviously having no more affection for the degenerate than the Commander. He tossed the rumpled report on Cullen's desk. "And he's alive?" Adaar inquired, folding both arms across his broad chest, made moreso by the armor he wore. Cullen was loathe to admit he was even more attractive when he was brooding and malcontent."Yes," Cullen nodded. "He's resurfaced in Orlais. I have a few leads on his supply routes. If we can cut of his supply, we'll feasibly dent their operation, at least. And taking down his right hand man will deal a considerable blow to Corypheus himself.""I like the sound of that," the Inquisitor smirked. "Where do we start?""I have a few locations we can investigate. The Emerald Graves, and Emprise Du Lion.""Good. I'll have Harding scout the locations and move out as soon as we get word on what we're dealing with." Cullen nodded at the reasonable approach to the situation, and Adaar relaxed momentarily, shifting his weight to the side. "So how do you know Samson?" he asked."Kirkwall," Cullen answered readily. "Of course, when I knew him, I thought him to be somewhat a decent man. At least, I never expected him to resort to such atrocities. But he was dismissed from the Order for smuggling messages between a fellow Templar and a mage. They were love letters. The act was relatively harmless, but Meredyth was exceedingly strict in her punsishment for any offence. It's forbidden for those of the Order to attach themselves to mages. The mage was made Tranquil, and Samson was left to suffer.Most Templars could not survive without Lyrium. Once they're dismissed from the Order they're denied access to it. The Chantry doesn't offer it to them. He was reduced to begging on the streets for it. He was desperate, but I could never imagine that he'd be willing to side with Corypheus and allow himself to be corrupted by Red Lyrium. I don't think he deserved his fate, but what acts he has committed in recompense are inexcusable. He's far from the man I knew, and needs to be stopped before things get any worse.""I agree," Adaar nodded. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention."Cullen nodded, then watched Adaar turn to leave the tower. He stopped in the doorway and turned back, like there was something more he'd like to say, but changed his mind. He looked troubled, and Cullen doubted it had anything to do with Samson, or Corypheus."Is something wrong?" Cullen asked him, and he opened his mouth, but then closed it.He stared at Cullen for a long moment before sighing, and saying, "It's nothing. I'll see you later, Cullen." It was only after the Inquisitor left that Cullen realized how that conversation could've gone a lot better than it did. Perhaps he should've said something then. But he quickly dismissed the idea. Tracking down Samson was more important. He sighed dejectedly and rubbed the back of his neck. There would always be something more important. There would simply never be time.Perhaps it was better left unsaid."So did you tell him?" Cassandra asked, when she found Cullen in the tower and barged in, striding up to his desk. He slumped his shoulders. He knew without asking what she referred to."No," he pouted."Why not?""I...we got a lead on Samson. He's alive, and somewhere in Orlais. That takes precedence over personal matters.""Yes, well, I don't disagree, but...Still, I think you should speak with him while you still have the chance, before he leaves."Cullen flailed his arms. "And what do I say to him?"Cassandra pursed her lips. "You tell him how you feel," she asserted with a glare. "Truly Cullen? How hard is it to simply say, 'Inquisitor, I like you'?"He growled at her. "The Inquisitor has more important matters to deal with than this, Cassandra. We both do. I..." He sighed. "Perhaps it's better this way. We're dealing with an even greater threat than that of the Breach, and he now leads the Inquisition. Our positions cannot be neglected. There will always be something more imperative.""Cullen," she started, stepping closer, until her hands were resting on the desk. "I understand why you are hesitant, but I don't want you to miss an opportunity to be happy.""What makes you think I would be?" he couldn't help but ask. "What sort of future could we possibly have, Cassandra? It would never work.""You don't know that," she argued, shaking her head.Cullen's heart pounded, and he brought himself to ask the one question, speak the one thought aloud that he'd yet to, the one he feared the most. The one reservation that outweighed any other."The way I feel about him is...more than just some childhood crush, Cassandra. And if things didn't work between us, we could not simply part ways. What if he could never feel the same? What if all I am to him is just...a fling?" he asked quietly."What if it's more?" she countered. "Please, just talk to him, Cullen," she pleaded.Having no other excuses to make, Cullen finally nodded. "I'll think about it," he agreed.The Seeker smiled. "Good. Just don't over-think it, Commander," she suggested, and then, finally, let him be about the matter.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He'd only taken the time to bathe, dress and eat before calling the advisers to a meeting in the newly arranged war room beyond Josephine's office. Twas not uncommon for the Tal-Vashoth to immediately debrief them after a mission before he was fully recovered. But this instance in particular was vexing to Cullen. They were early to the meeting, Leliana and Josephine the first to arrive, followed shortly by Cullen, and the Inquisitor arrived lastly, hair still damp, but he looked refreshed.Though irritated still. He was chewing on a newly acquired toothpick, already fraying a little at the ends from so much attention. He barged in and slammed the door shut behind him, then stalked over to the elaborate oak table before them. He then smacked several slips of parchment down on the table with a glare. Utterly wild, eyes ablaze with teeming emotion, which was so unlike the calm, collected, and all around ease they were accustomed to. He wore no tunic; hadn't taken the time to find one, to Cullen's chagrin.Too impatient to concern himself with matters such as modicum of dress. The Commander quickly averted his gaze, and avoided letting it rest on his form, forcing himself to look anywhere but over his torso. If it weren't for his overwhelming curiosity, it would be far more distracting, as it were. Neither Leliana nor Josephine commented, but both women looked nervous. Alright, well, Josephine looked nervous. Leliana was too good at schooling her emotions, but her lip twitched."So, Crestwood," Adaar struck up, not even bothering to make any sort of smalltalk before getting down to business and discussing the mission."Your report was very vague, Inquisitor," the Spymaster remarked, also not wasting a minute of their time. Adaar nodded."Sorry about that. Didn't want the information getting into the wrong hands," he said. "Hawke's contact was being shadowed by Wardens, and I didn't want to risk his discovery, or raise their awareness to our investigation." He took a deep breath. "So, here's what we know. Right now, Wardens are hearing something called the Calling. Every single one of them, at once." This time, Leliana didn't hide her unease. "Stroud explained it's what every Warden hears when they're nearing their end, that compels them to travel to the Deep Roads.The taint connects them to darkspawn, and the Blight. It eventually consumes them. They all think they're dying. According to him, it's every single one of them. Which leads him to believe it's a false Calling, concocted by Corypheus. Stroud and Hawke are on their way right now, to this location." He jutted forward one of the slips of parchment, on which a map had been sketched, as well as a few notes. Cullen glanced at it. The Western Approach in Orlais. "According to Stroud, Warden-Commander Clarel intends to enact a blood magic ritual."Cullen's head snapped up in alarm at the phrase 'blood magic'."She believes it will stop all further Blight," Adaar continued, all throughout with a stony expression. "I need Harding to put people here, and here." He pointed out the areas that Cullen suggested they start with to track down Samson. "And if Hawke and Stroud have not reported back by then, I need her to make contact with them in the Approach, find out what they've learned." He snatched up another piece of parchment. "And Leliana, I'll need your people to track down Crestwood's mayor, have him detained, and notify the proper authorities."She glazed over the report for a moment, then nodded.Cullen's heart was racing still, at the thought of such activities the Wardens were involving themselves in. He turned to the Spymaster. "Leliana, you traveled with Warden-Commander Cousland, tell me, is what Stroud says even possible?" he inquired."Possible? Yes. Probable? I hadn't thought. But if they are under Corypheus' influence, there is no telling what the Wardens might do.""Hawke was sure to mention he'd gotten in their heads before," Adaar told them. "That was how he escaped the prison that kept him contained. Easy to get out when your jailer hands you the key.""Should we hear Blackwall's thoughts on the matter?" Josephine asked."No," Adaar was quick to admonish."No?" she repeated, in confusion. He shook his head."I want eyes on him," he instructed Leliana, who nodded. "If he speaks to anyone, I want to know who. Any letters he writes, any contacts he makes, and if he leaves, I want him followed." Again, Leliana nodded, but still, Josephine didn't understand the cause for their suspicion. Neither did Cullen, frankly."Why the secracy?" he asked the Inquisitor."Just a hunch," he said. "But not once has Blackwall mentioned this, when according to Stroud, it's been going on for months, since the Wardens first disappeared, my guess that's why. And not once has Blackwall mentioned he suspects he might be dying, nor has he traveled to the Deep Roads to do so. I might be wrong, but I don't trust that."With that being said, none had any argument whatsoever on his behalf.Cullen agreed, that was markedly suspicious.And he agreed it would be wiser to wait and see than to confront him before they had all the information.Only time would tell if Blackwall was truly their ally, or perhaps had been playing them from the start. And better to keep an eye on him than escalate matters unnecessarily.Given the gravity of conversation, in hindsight, this would explain Adaar's disposition upon arriving back at Skyhold.This was a lot of information to process, and for too many reasons to count, Cullen was greatly concerned.They adjusted the map markers to reflect the new information recieved, and tended to any business left unfinished since his departure. The meeting ended abruptly when Adaar finally said, "Okay, that's all for now," then stormed out, looking no less bothered than when he first entered the chamber. Cullen wanted to seek him out, talk to him, see if he was alright, or perhaps needed an ear to listen to his concerns. Or maybe just to talk about the weather, something to take his mind off things for a moment, but decided against it.And Cullen had his own concerns. He marched back to his office feeling on edge. The discussion of Wardens enacting a blood magic ritual dredged up all the terrible memories attached to those horrifying words. Every incident of corruption and blood magic Cullen had experienced in his life. And the worst of all. The mother of all nightmares in his mind's eye...Kinloch. He was sweating by the time he reached his tower, and his skin felt like it was on fire, hands shaking as he flashed back to that horrific moment in his life.Breath coming out in short pants as his armor felt so constricting. Then breath stopped altogether for a moment, when he laid eyes on the box left on his desk."Sweet Andraste," he blasphemed, when he spotted the Lyrium kit.He'd nearly forgotten that Josephine had managed to pull some strings to secure a supply of Lyrium for the mages and any former Templars allied with the Inquisition, and that someone had been assigned to make the rounds, and deliver their daily dose of the insufferable liquid. To Cullen's horror, the dispenser was aware that Cullen had been a Templar, and automatically assumed he still took Lyrium. They left a kit, and Cullen could almost hear it now. The alluring voice of Lyrium, drawing him closer, tempting him to look inside the box.Perhaps I should be taking it, he thought. If the Wardens are using blood magic, the Inquisition will need every available Templar. It's worth the risk.At such compelling thoughts, he darted around the desk and reached for the box with shaking hand, gently running his fingers over the surface. It was right there, just inside, and Cullen had a very good reason to take it...So why did he feel so guilty? Why did he feel so dirty and disgusting? So ashamed? It's not Red Lyrium. It's the blue. I would never be so vile as to consume that wretched taint like Samson. No matter how desperately I need Lyrium. I would never corrupt my mind with such foul liquid. I would never be so-
It's only a few doses. Only temporary, until the Wardens are dealt with. I'll quit later. I need it now. I need to take it, I need to-
"Commander?" came a deep voice, from the doorway, and Cullen looked up.Amber eyes met deep brown, at the sight of Inquisitor Adaar.Cullen snatched his hand away from the box and cleared his throat, hoping Adaar was clueless to how flustered he'd become."Is this a bad time?" he asked, and Cullen shook his head. No, your timing was perfect, actually, he thought, sobering a little. Adaar suddenly appearing in the doorway, coming into the office, and closing the door behind him, effectively saved Cullen from making a terrible mistake. Were he to take Lyrium now, he might not ever stop again. Thank the bloody Maker. Adaar stepped up to the desk, folding his big arms and stared down at the box. His jaw ticked as he clenched the toothpick with his teeth. "What's that?" he asked, leaning his head."A Lyrium kit. It's what Templars use to self-administer their doses," Cullen told him, and at the face Adaar made, one of mild detest, he then made a decision that - in hindsight - would forever alter his relationship with Ataashi Adaar. He decided to tell him the truth of it. Perhaps he had a right to know, after all. He sighed and tore his gaze from the damnable substance, meeting Adaar's once more. "As leader of the Inquisition, you..." Again, he sighed. "There's something I must tell you.""What's on your mind?"He rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn't quite sure what Adaar would think of this, what his opinion would be, but he needed to say it. "I mentioned to you before of Lyrium granting a Templar their abilities," he said, and Adaar nodded. "And how it controls us. Those that are cut off from it suffer. Some go mad, others die. We have secured a reliable source of Lyrium for the Templars here, but...I no longer take it," he confessed. His eyes had dropped to the table, but they glanced up at Adaar just then, who wore a mask of perfect calm.Back to pretending then, he thought. "You stopped?" he simply asked, and Cullen nodded."When I joined the Inquisition. It's been months now."He allowed Adaar a moment to process and formulate an opinion on this, praying that he supported the idea. Should the Inquisitor suggest he keep taking Lyrium, or worse, order him to keep taking Lyrium, he didn't know if he could resist. And he would have no choice. He would obey Adaar's order without question. It was one of the few things more powerful than his addiction to Lyrium. His infallible loyalty to the Tal-Vashoth. He'd more than proven himself worthy of it, in Cullen's opinion.And if Adaar told him not to take it, he wouldn't. Just to prove that."Why take such a risk to your life?" Adaar questioned, furrowing his brow in confusion."After what happened in Kirkwall, I couldn't..." Words failed him for a moment. There was just too much. "I will not be bound to the Order - or that life - any longer," he said. "Whatever the suffering, I accept it. But I would not put the Inquisition at risk. I've asked Cassandra to...watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved from duty."Adaar nodded a little, considering Cullen's words. "Are you in any pain?" he asked, sounding concerned for him. Cullen had to admit, Adaar being concerned for his welfare was...comforting. He cared. He didn't want Cullen suffering. He wasn't sure if he deserved that. But it felt nice to hear."I can endure it," he shirked, but the Inquisitor didn't look convinced."Okay," he said slowly, questioningly. "Well, I respect what you're doing, Cullen. If there's anything I can do to help you, let me know."Cullen nodded, flooded with relief. Adaar would not fight him on this decision. Now, if only Cullen could keep up the fight against the urges.Adaar started to leave his office, and just like the last time, he stopped, looked as if he wished to speak, but then changed his mind. He opened the door, but Cullen halted him with his words."When you came in here, you seemed as if there were something you wished to discuss," he reminded."Oh, yeah, no it's...it's not important."Cullen sighed and made his way around the desk. "Something's been bothering you," he pointed out. "You look as stressed as I feel. Care to share?"Once more Adaar opened his mouth, as if he might open up to Cullen, but no words would come. He sighed, plucking the toothpick out and ground his teeth instead. Cullen waited patiently for some sort of explanation, but deflated when Adaar suck in a breath, then proceeded to lie right through his teeth. "Just miss my pipe, is all," he said, with a shrug, then reinserted the wood, biting down on it. "Catch ya later, Commander," he said, and left the office, before Cullen could comment.He scoffed indignantly once alone. "We're more alike than I thought," he muttered. Then he glanced back at the Lyrium no longer drowning his thoughts quite like before. "We don't even know what the Wardens' ritual entails," he reminded himself. "You don't need it."Yet, the Lyrium sang softly. You don't need me yet. But you will.He snarled.Seconds later Cassandra appeared, turning his attention away from the Lyrium entirely when she said, "I saw Adaar leaving your office. Have you spoken?""We discussed what's most important," he said, feeling that was better of a response than outright lying to her. He wandered back around his desk, ready to get back to work. Cassandra spotted the kit still sitting there, and swallowed."Josephine mentioned the doses were delivered today," she said, gesturing to the Lyrium. "That's what I came to speak to you about. I had hoped you hadn't -""I haven't," he assured her, then, with a nod, he pushed the kit away. She accepted it gladly, prepared to take it from the office and deposit the kit elsewhere. "And in regards to the Inquisitor," he added, making her pause. "I'm still working on it."She nodded in understanding, then left him to his work.He scratched his chin in thought.Ataashi Adaar, yet another temptation he was trying to resist.Though failing at.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
To Cullen's exasperation, smoking pipes were easily the most elusive items in all of Thedas to procure at the drop of a hat. He didn't know why he thought it would be easy, considering this very moment in time Adaar suffered without one, but he had hoped that it was no more than an oversight. However, Cullen Rutherford was sadly mistaken. He asked the requisitions officer first and foremost, as often requests such as non-uniform clothing, soap, razors, combs, and other miscellaneous effects were also given to the Quartermaster to fill.They suggested the vendors, but none of Skyhold's vendors had any in stock. Bonny, however, was kind enough to suggest a retailer in Orlais, and even offered to order one - handcrafted and specially made, to boot - but it would take weeks to deliver. Cullen didn't have weeks. He approached Josephine next to inquire of a faster means of delivery, as Josephine was quite savvy at procuring such items; she was the miracle behind their endless supply of parchment, ink, and quills with which to write the insane number of reports day to day.But Josephine had nothing better to suggest. "I wasn't aware that you smoked," she prodded, as Cullen stood before her desk in the office outside the war room, and he shook his head."It's for a friend," he corrected. She said nothing, but gave him a look."Master Tethras might know where to find one," she suggested. "Perhaps you can ask him?"Cullen bristled a little at the dwarf's mention. Indeed, Varric was well connected and always seemed to have those sorts of items on hand, always knew where to get them. But the Commander wasn't looking forward to owing Varric any sort of favor, of which no doubt he would, somehow. He just didn't understand why the task of locating a smoking apparatus had to be so Maker-damned difficult. It wasn't as if he were buying Lyrium on the black market. It was just a pipe. But perhaps there was a grand design at work here.If Cullen didn't need it, it would be so easy to find, but as his luck would have it, the moment he needed something, said item was nowhere to be found.He sighed, nodded, bid good day to Josephine, and searched out Varric next.He found the writer in his usual nook, a spot by the hearth in the Great Hall. An advantageous position; he could see all the comings and goings at Skyhold, all the nobles visiting, the occasional fan of his work, as well as hear the latest gossip as it spread. It meant he was one of the first people to know everything, and the most likely to be correctly informed of something, as he watched it unfold. Close to the warmth of the fire, in a comfortable chair, as well as conveniently already present the moment midmorning meals were served.The wisecracking Kirkwall native was writing in a journal, and at first guess, Cullen assumed he was working on his novella of the Inquisition's journey thus far. He did mention he would write about it, and he had quite a lot to pen to paper already. A Tal-Vashoth miraculously walking out of the Fade, supposedly cast out of time by a Tevinter Magister, taking on an army of Red Templars, then a dragon single-handedly. Miraculously surviving an avalanche, and seemingly returning from the dead a second time.Varric would embellish, of course. Cullen had read Tale of the Champion, and knew in all likelihood not half of it was true. He'd oversold the Champion's heroic deeds. But of course, the Tale was no historical account, but rather a fictitious lie told to entertain. It was to be expected. It unnerved Cullen, however. Varric made him look far more decent than he'd actually been. He made Cullen seem so virtuous; forced to concede to Meredyth's harsh demands, but finally standing up to her when he saw her corruption first hand.Not that he didn't turn away from her orders, but the actual event was far less riveting, and far more disparaging than the fiction. Far less pivotal of a moment, and the Commander resented that. He watched Varric scribble with his quill for a moment before approaching him. The dwarf furrowed his brow in concentration, then reached up to rub his temple. "What are you writing?" Cullen finally asked, curious, drawing him out of thought and he glanced up. Quickly he plastered a smile, as if he were so happy to see him."Curly," he greeted, and Cullen wrinkled his nose a little at the nickname. He fought the urge to fiddle with his hair at its mention. "Have a seat," Varric offered, pointing to the chair across from him. "Take a load off." Cullen strode over to the chair in question and sat down, leaning back, just as Varric was grumbling, "The next chapter of my romance serial, if you can believe it." He set down the journal. The Commander did a double take. He was writing more Swords & Shields? He thought he'd long abandoned that ship. "As a favor for the Inquisitor."Cullen quirked a brow. He had not expected to hear that. "The Inquisitor?""Heh, yeah, apparently a mutual friend of ours is a fan of my work.""Who?""Oh no," Varric shook his head. "Not telling you. Because if I tell you, you'll run and tell her, and then ruin the surprise. Can't have that, can we?...So, what do you need?"Cullen sighed. "I have a favor to ask.""Oh?" Varric perked up, genuinely interested now. "What sort of favor?"Cullen reached to run a hand through his hair. "Do you know where I might find a smoking pipe?" he asked. Varric arched a brow."You smoke?""No, but a mutual friend of ours has need of one. I'm afraid if he goes any longer without one, he'll give poor Josephine a heart attack from all the stress.""Ah, the Inquisitor, I'm guessing?" Varric asked, and Cullen nodded. "Does he know you've been scouring all of Skyhold for a pipe?""How did you know I was..." Cullen trailed off. Of course. Varric was the first to know everything. He and Leliana would make quite the pair. Cullen sighed in defeat. "No. I had hoped to surprise him with it, actually.""How thoughtful of you."All the while he spoke, Varric had this eerie smile, like he knew something Cullen didn't, and it grated on his nerves. Knowing it would be pointless to take his ire out on Varric - and counterproductive, considering he needed Varric's help - he bit the inside of his cheek and held his tongue. "Yes, it would seem you're not the only one full of surprises today," he said instead, and Varric chuckled. "It would take weeks to have one delivered, but I was wondering if you might have a better alternative."Varric pondered that for a moment before shrugging. "Well, I had Herrit make mine," he said, pulling a bronze version of Adaar's old pipe from his pocket. Cullen took a moment to admire the craftsmanship, the reflection of the flame dancing across the shining metal."How soon could he make another?"Varric glanced at the ceiling in thought, then said, "Well, give or take cost and availability of materials, he could have it done by the end of the day.""So soon?" Cullen gaped, sitting forward in his seat."Yeah the man's got quite a talent there," Varric smirked, tucking his pipe back in his coat pocket. Then he studied Cullen for a moment. "Tell ya what, Curly, you help me? I'll help you. I need someone to run interference for me, that is, provided you can keep a secret." Like you wouldn't believe, Cullen absently thought. "I'll make sure the Inquisitor never hears about your surprise gift, if...you make sure the Seeker never hears about mine." Cullen's brows shot up at that, but he clamped his mouth shut and nodded."I can do that," he agreed, but his face had turned red and he chuckled, smearing a hand across it. Cassandra Pentaghast reading a romance serial? "Oh, that explains a lot," he muttered."I know, right?!" Varric laughed. "I never would've guessed it!""I should've," Cullen grinned. "You don't know the Seeker like I do."Varric quirked an interested brow at this, but Cullen was quite certain he'd made enough confessions for one day.Varric took the hint and simply said, "I'm not sure I want to know the Seeker like you do. I think any more exposure and I'll be learning how to write with broken fingers." Cullen winced at that. He'd get into a debate about Varric lying to Cassandra, but it wasn't worth the effort. At the moment, he would rather walk away from conversation having made another friend, than another enemy. And he did. Varric offered to speak to Herrit, and Cullen resolved to keep Cassandra occupied that afternoon so he could write.All in all, it went far better than expected.But having Varric's help was only the start of the affair. He wouldn't be able to rely on the imaginative dwarf alone. He needed an artist's touch, as he'd a thought in mind, but no talent whatsoever at penning that thought to paper. But Solas, on the other hand, had quite the artistic talent, so Cullen had noticed. Every time he passed through the tower on the way to his office, he'd catch sight of Solas painting a mural on the first floor. He also noticed the pile of sketches on the table he used as reference.After concluding his meeting with Varric, he went there next, hoping that Solas would have a moment to sketch something to give to Herrit. "Commander," the apostate greeted suavely when he approached, clasping his hands together. Cullen nodded in return. Solas was used to seeing Cullen pass through on the way to somewhere, but rarely did he ever have the time to stop to chat. Solas always made him nervous. Perhaps a bit less so than the Tevinter mage just above them on the second floor, but he was still a bit unsettling, nonetheless.The prickling sensation he felt whenever a mage was nearby was muted, grew more and more dull the longer he went without Lyrium, but it was still present. At every turn, he'd proven his value to the Inquisition, but Cullen knew just by standing near him he was quite the powerful spellcaster. But just like the Inquisitor, that overwhelming pull of Lyrium was not present within Solas. It was only his magic that discomforted Cullen. A reasonable fear. One that every man and woman had when faced with something unpredictable.Putting on a mask of calm, Cullen summed up what he wished to say, and simply asked, "Can you keep a secret?"Solas eyed him curiously at that question.After discussing the details of Cullen's request - one that Solas found to be slightly amusing, and even mildly entertaining - and after seeing the incredible rendition of Cullen's idea, the Commander then sent word to Cassandra and invited her to lunch in the garden, leaving the main hall free of her presence for Varric's sake. Without Cassandra breathing down his neck, he could complete the chapter and surprise her with it sooner rather than later. And while Cullen kept her occupied in the garden, so Varric and Solas would do with Adaar.Yes, Solas was in on their little scheme now too. He readily agreed to seeing the Inquisitor's gift made. He was to leave Skyhold as well and travel with the Tal-Vashoth to the Emerald Graves. Adaar wanted his expertise on ancient elven lore, and Solas wanted as stress-free a journey as they could possibly manage. He'd also noticed Adaar's agitation as of late, and also thought Cullen's gift was...thoughtful. Yes, he'd used the same word as Varric. Cullen couldn't help but feel as if there were a double meaning in that, but...Nevertheless, Solas was a helpful assistant in the matter as well, and while he couldn't blab to the Seeker about Varric's book, he could certainly tell her about Adaar's pipe over lunch in the garden. He described the drawing, and watched her face light up and a smile spread across it. She thought it was sweet. Also thoughtful, but very sweet. Of course, she knew the real reason Cullen wanted to extend the gesture, without his saying so. He didn't know if he could yet find the courage to speak his mind to Adaar, but gift giving was a good start, she said.It was a heartfelt gesture, even if it wasn't the typical romantic one. He wanted to blurt out a comment about her ideas of romantic gestures obviously coming from Varric's book, but wouldn't dare. He'd sworn an oath of secrecy. She would cuff him if she found out he knew about the book and didn't tell her. But it was true, that he didn't know anything about romance. Much less did he know how to romance an eight foot tall dragon of a man. Perhaps if he were Qunari he could ask Bull about their rituals, but this wasn't the case.They spent a good portion of their lunch hour discussing sword and shield techniques after that, until a runner approached and Cullen was needed elsewhere. Apparently the message couldn't wait until he'd concluded his meal, and when he broke open the seal he understood why. It was Harding's report on the situation in the Graves. Adaar would need to leave as soon as possible if he wanted to get the jump on Samson's operation. And meanwhile they needed to recruit an arcanist capable of studying Red Lyrium without effect.The rest of the afternoon would be spent organizing their efforts, and assigning men to the area, available to move out the moment the Inquisitor was ready to depart. But he'd succeeded in keeping Cassandra away from the main hall to the best of his ability. She would immediately retreat to the armory to gather her things, and ready herself for the next mission. He could only hope that Herrit had succeeded in making a pipe for the Inquisitor without his knowledge of it.The parcel was delivered to his office just after sundown. Set upon his desk, wrapped in brown parchment and cinched neatly with twine. While the packaging was nothing to crow about, the item tucked inside was an absolute marvel. Cullen unwound the cord and unwrapped the bundle to gaze upon a polished and gleaming ebony pipe darned with tiny golden filigree. It was masterfully crafted, specific to his design, and the note from Herrit attached said, "He'd better like it, for I'll not go through all that a second time."To which Cullen chuckled, then set down the note as he pocketed the pipe.Now all that was left was to finally deliver said item into the kossith's waiting hands.Well, everyone else said it was a nice gesture, very thoughtful of him.He hoped by everything holy the Inquisitor felt the same.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He didn't remember the trek to the Inquisitor's lofty quarters ever taking this long before. But alas, the expanse of the deserted Great Hall seemed to go on forever, and with each step Cullen took, his heart fluttered more rapidly in his chest. His hands inside their gloves felt sweaty and the whole of him cold and clammy. When he finally reached the door at the end of the hall, he stood with his fist raised, prepared to knock, but hesitated. He was nervous, for several reasons, but mainly, because he didn't know what he would say.This was a terrible idea. Knowing his luck, Adaar didn't even feel that way about him anymore, and had already moved on, to someone else lucky enough to catch the giant's attention. Perhaps he truly had missed his opportunity back at Haven. And that fear of rejection currently crippled him, kept him rooted to that spot in front of the door, with his hand raised, like an idiot. I have no idea what I'm doing, he bemoaned internally. Why couldn't this come more naturally to him like it seemed to for others?Everyone around him always seemed to have that confidence he lacked outside the war room. That uncanny ability to hold idle conversation with a person that Cullen struggled with. And no matter how he tried to imitate others–like Varric, for example–he could never quite master that as smoothly and effortlessly as they. He could strategize all day, plan and execute missions, train recruits–utilizing a lot of techniques his former intructors used when training Templars–but if it wasn't combat, it was utterly hopeless.Serving as a Templar taught him many things. Of course, how to socialize with other living beings was obviously not one of those things. But Maker knows I can recite every line of Transfigurations at the drop of a hat, he thought dismally.And discussing his feelings? Even more of a struggle. But the weight of a newly crafted ebony pipe suddenly shifted in his pocket, and he let out a sigh, dropping his hand to the blade at his hip. Romantic feelings aside, Ataashi Adaar was still a friend, one he spoke frankly with often enough, and he knew there was little reason to be quite so anxious about this encounter. The Inquisitor was one of the few people he did feel comfortable with, as ironic as that was. That he should let down his guard around an apostate, of all things.Weeks ago, he never would've guessed that he'd ever reach such an understanding with a mage. He would've thought the idea quite preposterous. Inconceivable, perhaps. Definitely beyond anyone's belief.But he had. Adaar had proven time and time again that he was nothing like Cullen would've assumed him to be in the beginning. He was honest, and trustworthy. He was always the last person to judge another for their faults, as well as the first to give someone the benefit of doubt. He was kind, and probably the most selfless person Cullen had ever met. And when he smiled...Yes, when Adaar spread those lips apart in a wide, toothy grin, Cullen felt like he could breathe again, like all was right with the world.And once he saw the beautiful piece of expert craftsmanship clinking in his pocket, surely he would crack one of those smiles, and that alone was worth any trouble on the Commander's part. That thought gave him the courage he needed to set aside all doubts–just as Cassandra advised he should do–and push the door open, taking the steps two at a time. He called for Adaar's attention halfway up. "Inquisitor?" But there was no reply. Once reaching the landing, he understood why his call hadn't been answered.He smirked at the sight of the kossith sprawled out on a bear rug before the fire, engrossed in what must've been a riveting piece of literature. Cullen delayed making himself known for a moment longer in order to study him. Shirtless and barefoot, wearing only his trousers, one leg bent, the other outstretched, and he licked his thumb to flip the page, then furrowed his brow as he read the words written there. The fire blazing in the hearth cast a warm glow on his glossy black horns and metallic skin, even reflected in his eyes.His hair was unbraided, and the length of it hung over one shoulder. Cullen could spend hours drinking in the sight of him unbidden, but he doubted the giant would appreciate someone watching him without his knowledge. Cullen never liked that feeling, like he was being watched, so he cleared his throat to get Adaar's attention. He didn't hear, too focused on the book he read, and completely ignored Cullen still. "Ataashi?" Cullen tried, and at the Inquisitor's chosen name, he finally glanced up."Cullen! Hey," he said, snapping the book closed. "I didn't hear you enter."He set down what he was reading and rose to his feet, then towered over the Commander, who had ventured closer. "Good book?"Adaar quirked a brow. It took a second for him to respond, as if he didn't understand the question at first. "What? Oh. Right. Yeah. Hard In Hightown. I've been meaning to finish it, and I finally have every chapter in order." He smirked, then reached to pluck his customary toothpick from his mouth. "Since I'm friends with the author, of course." Cullen chuckled. Adaar shifted into his business stance and folded both arms behind his back like he sometimes did in the war room. "Did you need something, Commander?"Cullen's eyes flickered over the whole of him for a moment before finally settling on his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words still wouldn't come. So he closed his mouth and resigned to pulling the Inquisitor's gift from the safety of his pocket instead. The Inquisitor blinked rapidly in surprise when Cullen held it out to him. "I came to give you this, actually," he explained, as Adaar accepted the gift, admiring it in the firelight. "I had Herrit make it for you." He bit his lip in angst as he waited for a response."Wow," Adaar finally said. He smiled a little. "I didn't know Herrit could make these, otherwise I would've asked. Cullen this is..." He struggled to speak for a moment, before finally saying, "Just wow," with a chuckle. Cullen laughed as well. "Thank you. This was...nice? Is that the word? Wait, yeah, nice. This was nice of you to do. Sorry," He absently scratched the base of his horn, "I still get confused from time to time over what words have what meaning. Especially when I'm..." He grimaced in his frustration."Stressed?" Cullen guessed, and he shrugged."More or less," he relayed with a sigh. "Thank you, Cullen.""There's more to it," Cullen told him, remembering the pouch of cured elfroot in his breastpocket. He pulled out the leather pouch next and handed it to him, watching him grin, shaking his head in disbelief. Cullen smiled, and that familiar warmth spread throughout his being upon seeing the desired reaction. Eager to test out the new pipe, Adaar opened the pouch and dug out a pinch of elfroot, then stuffed it in. He took a puff, his fire magic lighting the material aglow, and he hummed in appreciation.Cullen couldn't help but chuckle a little, especially when he exhaled and once more resembled a brooding dragon. But now he was at a loss of what to do. He'd given Adaar his gift, so what now? He could walk away, bid the Inquisitor goodnight, and head back to his office. Let Adaar return to reading Varric's crime serial, and leave him be. Which would probably be the best way to avoid embarrassment, but he couldn't help but feel like he would just look the coward if he walked away now.And all of Cassandra's advice swam in his mind. Maybe the best place to start was with Adaar himself, rather than Cullen's feelings. They could work their way up to that."You haven't been the same since Haven," he pointed out, and Adaar met his gaze. He seemed less anxious now that he had his preferred vice, but at Cullen's words, his mood shifted back into sullen once more. He sighed and nodded in understanding."Sorry about that," he said, then turned away from Cullen, moving to lean against the desk in the corner, and the Commander followed."Do you want to talk about it?" Cullen asked him, as he hunkered down, resting on the desk, folding one leg over the other, easing the strain in Cullen's neck now that they were eyelevel. Adaar hesitated."You know, you have enough to deal with right now, and I'd rather not–""Ataashi," Cullen interrupted, folding his arms. "I could pull rank and tell you that as Commander, and adviser to the Inquisition's leader, your concerns are my concerns. Regardless of the state of things I should be available to hear them. But I am, also, your friend. So as a friend, I'm asking if you want to talk about it. You don't have to, but...If you want, I would gladly listen."He puffed on his elfroot a moment longer before responding. What he said threw Cullen for a bit of a loop at first, until he took Adaar's past into consideration. "I've never mattered before," he said. With a lost expression, as if he'd been asked to solve a great riddle, but hadn't the solution to it. He massaged his shoulder like he was in pain, but his expression was more like confusion. "This is...strange to me. When my father found me I was bas. Nothing. I've never been...important like this. It's just hard to deal with sometimes."Cullen sighed, realizing what the problem must be, and moved to lean against the desk next to him, Adaar shifting a little to give him room.He could feel the body heat rolling off the giant in waves, and tried to ignore the way such close proximity to the man made him feel. Now was definitely not the right time to discuss such things. It seemed Adaar had need of advice–for once–which was intriguing. Only Cullen wasn't sure what to say. He'd gone from saarebas to Inquisitor of Thedas. He'd gone from being literally considered a thing, not even a person, no more than a tool used for the Qun's agenda, to now being one of the most influential people on the continent.This was a step above simply being the only person to survive the explosion, or even the only one among them able to seal rifts. Certainly a step above being yet another Tal-Vashoth having broke free of the Qun. He was now a leader, a figurehead, whose decisions would shape the world. Whose voice would be heard. Whose life...mattered. He was struggling to wrap his head around that, as well as becoming overwhelmed by the pressure, but it wasn't as if he could just quit if he wanted."I can't even begin to understand how you feel, so I won't pretend to," Cullen said. "But I do know what it's like to suddenly be thrust into something entirely foreign to you, and having to abandon everything you once knew." The Inquisitor raised a dark brow at that, but said nothing, simply puffed on his pipe. And there was another thing. He was awfully pensive, as of late. Getting him to speak his thoughts on a subject was a lot harder than it ever used to be. Cullen would take it personally, only he did it with everyone.But finally, after a time, Adaar looked over at him and said, "Don't tell anyone I told you this, but...just between you and me, sometimes I miss it.""The Qun?" Cullen asked."Yeah. Someone else being in control. Is that insane, or what?"Cullen took a breath. "Perhaps not as insane as you might think," he admitted slowly. Sometimes Cullen felt that way. It was easier to excuse past transgressions if there were someone else to blame for them. "When we're not held accountable for our actions, it's easier to shift the blame for the mistakes we make...But no matter what we do, or what we're forced to do, regardless, there are always consequences. Only what they are is what changes, and all that matters is how we accept them."The Inquisitor considered that for a moment. Cullen imagined he could interpret that many ways, maybe even see the parallel in Cullen's words to his actions in Kirkwall, or even his actions as Commander of the Inquisition. But regardless of how he took those words, he simply nodded, and said, "Yeah, I think I get that...That...actually helps.""I'm glad," Cullen told him."I appreciate having you to talk to."Cullen smiled a little, though it was tight, and constrained, not quite as genuine as he wished it to be. He was now thinking of his past mistakes, his time in Kirkwall, and how much everything had changed. How much what he and the Inquisitor accomplished mattered, and how inconsequential his feelings were. Lives hung in the balance, and should they fail, there was no one to blame. He couldn't afford to complicate matters at a time like this. Cassandra would likely wring his neck, but there was no way possible he could tell Adaar the truth.Or perhaps that was simply the excuse he chose to make.He took a deep breath and was about to rise from his spot on the desk, intent on leaving."Speaking of talking," Adaar stopped him. "You've been acting strange lately too. Something on your mind?""Oh, no," he shook his head in denial. "Well, not anymore than usual. Just...comes with the position, I suppose.""Liar," the Inquisitor chuckled. Cullen chewed his lip in angst. "You can be honest. Something to do with the Lyrium, maybe?""No," Cullen shook his head. "No, I've been managing that. As well as I can, at any rate. But I appreciate the concern.""Then it's me," Adaar told him, and Cullen sighed. It was. It was most certainly the Inquisitor. Cullen was about to deny it, but Adaar said, "You know, things have been weird between us ever since..." A look of sudden realization came across his face, and Cullen suspected the cause of it. "Shit, you're mad at me because I hit on you."Right, well, he didn't expect Adaar to think that. "No, no, I'm not angry with you for that," he corrected. "I'm not–I'm just–Well, what I mean to say is-" He groaned. He didn't know what he was trying to say. "Ataashi, I...""I'm not upset with you for rejecting me, you know," Adaar said. "You–you do know that, right? I don't want you to think–I mean, it's okay if you-""No, it's..." Cullen sighed, rubbing his temple. Maker, we're both really bad at this aren't we? he thought. "It's not what you think it is.""Then what is it?"It was everything. It was the Inquisition. It was Cullen's deepest fears. It was his inexperience. It was his Maker-damned inability to say anything right. Worried that if he blurted how he truly felt, it would change everything. And even if things should turn out favorably, what would people think? Should they learn their Commander was involved with the Inquisitor? What would the men under his command think of him then? He wasn't sure he could handle the humiliation, the ridicule.The rumors that would spread about him–the whispers behind his back.The snickering.He swallowed nervously, his heart suddenly in his throat."I have to go," he said, and turned to walk quickly away."Whoa, hey, wait," Adaar said as he crossed the floor, and he could hear steps behind him, the Inquisitor getting up and following him. He felt a large hand curl around his elbow when he reached the landing, and he jerked it away. "Cullen?""Goodnight, Inquisitor," he clipped, and darted down the stairs."Dammit," he heard the Inquisitor sigh behind him.Maker, how he wished he could turn and walk back up those steps.But he didn't.Going up there was a mistake to begin with.Oh what does it matter anymore? he thought.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He burst into his office with a snarl, then violently slammed the door shut behind him, causing the rafters to quake and dust to rain down upon his shoulders.He was so angry with himself he was shaking.So angry that he was seconds away from upending the desk in front of him, and everything on it.He paced and paced, one hand gripping the hilt of his broadsword, the other massaging the kink in the base of his skull that had been plaguing him all night. It was hopeless to try and salvage the situation. Perhaps it would've been better had he never visited the Inquisitor to begin with, never bothered in the first place, but there was no turning back from it now. He could pretend it never happened. Allow Adaar to think whatever he will of Cullen's behavior, or dismiss it altogether.But he would know. Despite all else, he would know, and he would be confronted by it each time he spoke with the Inquisitor. Maker, how could I be so stupid?!Sleep evading him, and having no other way to vent his frustration in the dead of night, the Commander plucked the throwing knives from the training dummy in the corner that doubled as an armor stand, stood across from it, aimed, and sunk each one into what would've been the heart, were it his enemy. At the moment, Cullen was his own worst enemy, and in his guilt and shame, he imagined the target was himself. Over and over he stabbed himself in the heart, until exhaustion finally kicked in.Piece by piece, he removed his armor and arranged it neatly on the stand, removing the daggers so that he could affix his breastplate to the torso.Then he made the arduous clime up the ladder to the loft above, and passed out, without so much as bothering to unlace his boots.
The stairs spiraled upwards like a Circle tower, each stone slick with a sheen, like ice. Light flickered ahead, flames dancing with the shadows, and a song could be heard in the distance. A lute playing, though it sounded just slightly uneven. The bard forgot to tune it, perhaps. It sounded far away, like it was down in the main hall, and it accompanied laughter–people celebrating something, though what he couldn't recall–but the sound was muffled, and indistinct. A song he vaguely recognized, from a distant memory, maybe his childhood.
Hadn't his mother sang that song on Satinalia?
Hand gripping the hilt of his blade, he climbed the tower, every muscle taught with apprehension of what waited at the top. Someone was up there, someone he was to meet. The light got brighter and brighter, yet the shadows in the corners got darker; he could feel them on the edges of his vision, a faint inkling of a notion that if he turned around there would be nothing behind him, only darkness, a blank canvas, and rather than stairs he would find a bottomless abyss. So he kept his eyes ahead and climbed the steps.
He heard the fire crackling before he reached the landing and saw it. Blazing in the hearth that stretched uncharacteristically to the ceiling. The flames as tall as he, flashing and flickering, bathing the room in scarlet. He turned to inspect it, spotted the chains hanging from the ceiling and hung on the walls, the burgundy carpet on the floor. The balcony doors were closed, their black material glossy, like obsidian–something he'd seen before, but where?–The large Par Vollen bed was empty, the cover spread across it neatly.
The metallic Qunari statues pulling the chains holding it erect turned their horned heads to watch, their eyes gleaming in the firelight.
A deep voice rumbled behind him, saying, "So, Commander, wanna take me for a ride?"
"Yes, very much so," he said without delay, and felt warm hands on his skin. The armor he wore was suddenly gone, and fingers traced an invisible line from his shoulder blades to the small of his back. His breath hitched and he jerked at the unexpected touch, making the kossith chuckle. "That tickles, you know," he said, turning his head slightly and leaning back to rest against him, as Ataashi pulled him closer. It was so unbearably warm, but yet he still felt cold for some reason. Like he couldn't get close enough to the heat.
"The Commander is ticklish?" the giant laughed, and so did he. Then he felt a hot mouth on his neck, warm breath in his ear, the sensation giving him goosebumps. He groaned when his lover nipped softly at the space between neck and shoulder, driving him absolutely insane. A hard body pressed against him, as solid as stone, but somehow soft as well. A hand reached around to his face, and a finger tilted his chin upward. Then he was met with even hotter flame, as his lover kissed, leaving him breathless.
"Maker," he exhaled when Ataashi withdrew, and grinned mischievously.
"Dragons aren't the only ones with fire," he said, then whirled him around and pushed him back onto the bed. He felt as if he floated for a moment, as if weightless, airless, as his lover crawled toward him on the bed, then his large frame hovered over him. He pinned him by his wrists, above his head, and tortured him with his mouth, hot wet tongue sliding down his neck, then down his chest, while one hand undid the laces of his trousers, then palmed his erection. His head jerked upward at the pleasurable feeling.
The flames were suddenly surrounding them, lighting the entire room ablaze, blackening the vaulted ceiling with soot. "Maker, Taash, you're going to burn this whole place to the ground," he said. His lover chuckled.
"Yeah, that's the idea," he rumbled, then went down on him, licking first, then sucking his aching cock mercilessly. He writhed beneath him, moaning and sighing in response. It had been so long, ages since anyone had touched him like this. He jerked his hips upward, thrusting into his mouth, longing for more, but mere seconds from his release, Ataashi lifted his large horned head, ceasing all pleasure together. "That's it," he said, leaning closer, until he was right at his ear. "Good little Templar," he hissed.
But that wasn't his voice.
It was someone else's.
Cullen's eyes blew wide open at that sound.
Uldred's voice laughed in his ear and he struggled, heart racing in his chest.
"Let me go!" he exclaimed, trying to break free, but he couldn't. He heard the clasp of metal and looked over to see his arms bound in shackles. When he looked up, it was not Ataashi Adaar he saw standing over him, but Senior Enchanter Uldred.
He blinked, and around him everything changed. He scrambled to his feet as the illusion of the tower at Skyhold dissipated, and became Ferelden's Circle once more.
Kinloch. He was still there. It had all been an elaborate ruse. Kirkwall, the Inquisition, Haven, Skyhold. It wasn't real. He looked down to see the heavy plates of Templar armor, in place of the Inquisition's. The last ten years had all been an illusion. He'd never left the tower. He'd been trapped there all this time, the demon making him see all those things. He screamed at the abomination before him. "Nooo!!" he sobbed, and the creature laughed. "Let me go!" he cried, then threw himself against the magical barrier in place.
"Oh, did you think the Hero Of Ferelden had saved you?" the demon asked. "Whisked you away from the Tower so you could start a happy new life? Did you think all of it was real? Oh, you poor, poor, miserable thing. It was all a dream, Cullen."
He pounded his fists on the barrier, but it wouldn't break, only flash brighter wherever he touched it, but it was solid. Unbreakable.
"You will not break me!" he swore.
"I already have."
"No!" he argued, weakly, sinking to his knees. "No," he sobbed again, quietly. "It was real. It has to be. I was there! I was..."
"It was all a dream, Cullen...All a dream."
With a strangled cry he woke up, choking and gasping for air as if he'd been drowned, heart hammering in his chest. He blinked his eyes into focus to see the room above his office at Skyhold, and flopped back against the mattress. A nightmare. It had all been a nightmare. Trembling from head to toe he pried himself from the bed and scrambled to the hole in the wall that moonlight poured through, to feel the cold air against his fiery skin. He then sighed and slumped against the stone, running a hand through his sweat soaked hair.The part involving the Inquisitor had all been a dream as well.A bit of a disappointment, but a relief that the whole of it was over.Wide awake once more, he shuffled toward the ladder and climbed down, then milled about his office, too terrified he'd be sucked into another nightmare if he tried to go back to sleep. There were a few reports he'd thought to put off until morning, but as he was awake, he decided to look at them now. He needed any sort of distraction to keep him from giving into the urge to visit the armory and pilfer Lyrium. It was stored there, under lock and key, a convenience for those suiting up to grab their Lyrium ration along with their gear.The Lyrium would drown out the nightmares. When he took Lyrium, he felt nothing but its song. No care for anything but what his Maker-given purpose as a Templar had been. He felt strong, whole and complete, his mind impregnable, a powerful force of the Maker's will. But it was all an illusion. It was not faith. It was not the Maker's will. He had not been a holy warrior, but a mindless tool for the Chantry's means. He'd deluded himself into believing otherwise, and drowned himself in a pleasant falsehood.Sober of Lyrium, he was now disillusioned with the Chantry's teachings, and his own beliefs.Upon realising that the last twelve years had been no more than delusions of grandeur on his behalf, brought by the poison killing his body, he was unbearably world-weary of it. It would be so easy to slip back into that fantasy, but he managed to stave off the urge that night. It was the Inquisitor that stopped him, actually. Without even his knowledge of it. Because when he thought of the man he used to be, and the man he would become if he took Lyrium, he grew disgusted with himself, and resigned to suffering instead.If he were to take that poison again, the Inquisitor would become nothing more than a godless thing in his eyes, rather than the handsome, charming, and incredible individual Cullen was falling for.At that thought, he resisted Lyrium that night.But the Inquisitor, on the other hand, was another matter.Because his feelings for him were no illusion.They were real.And Maker, he didn't deserve the Inquisitor. Not after everything he'd done.The following morning was fairly routine. For the umpteenth time, Cullen had dozed off at his desk and was jerked awake by a messenger nudging his shoulder. Jim, he was certain was the young man's name. He kept forgetting to ask, and honestly thought he should know it well by now. Regardless, it was he to come to Cullen's office first thing that morning, and shake Cullen awake. "Commander?" he addressed, and Cullen mumbled in reply, nudging his hand away, then rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Another late night, sir?"He nodded. "Afraid so," he sighed, then accepted the tin cup of luke warm coffee and the report Jim handed him. He blinked rapidly and squinted while reading, his vision still a little blurry. The supply shipment from the Coast was delayed due to bandit activity, and wouldn't arrive til the following morning. But aside from that, everything was fairly neutral, at the moment. No state of emergency, but no word yet still from the Champion either. Harding was set to embark for the Western Approach to learn of his whereabouts.Mornings were the most fulfilling for the Commander of the Inquisition. It meant leaving the confines of his office and personally waking the new recruits to start their training exercises. He trained with them, then paired them up to spar and oversaw their progress. There was always an audience near the training yard of the earliest risers. Most often it was the Iron Bull and his Chargers, occasionally others, but currently just the Bull, leaning against the stonework, chewing a piece of bread, large tin cup in hand, watching them train."Morning," Cullen greeted as he broke from the sparring yard and neared the horned giant. Bull tilted his cup in salute."Morning," he grumbled, voice likely rough from so much shouting and laughing in the tavern the night before. Cullen settled next to him, folding his arms, watching the recruits, hearing the big brute sigh beside him. "So, Cullen, heard you went to see the Boss last night."The hair raised on the back of his neck at the Qunari's observation."Did you now?" he asked, with a scowl, thinking Bull would follow that up with some sort of snide innuendo."Yeah," Bull grinned. "I also heard things didn't exactly pan out between you two."If it were possible, Cullen's scowl deepened, as did the color in his cheeks. "There's nothing going on between us."Bull chuckled heartily. "Did I say there was?" he asked. "I only meant you and the Boss had some kind of argument. I didn't imply anything else. But you did."Cullen sucked in a breath, fully prepared to snap at Bull, but then realized that anything he said would only dig him in deeper, so he clamped his mouth shut and continued his brooding instead. Above him, Bull smirked, then took a sip from his cup. "Where did you hear about an argument?" Cullen asked after a time."From the Boss," Bull answered. "Well, he implied there was an argument. Came to the Rest last night. Drank all my Maraas-lok. Got shit-faced. Told us all about it. Well, most of it. Not all of it was common tongue. Some of it was in another language.""What...did he say...precisely?" Cullen dared to ask. Bull chuckled. "The parts that were in common?""Said you were pissed at him, and he's not really sure why.""Anything else?""Nothing all that coherent, really," Bull admitted. "Like I said, he was drunk. Nothing that would tip anyone off, you know, make people think something happened between you two. In fact," He got up and stretched, letting out a groan, "The only parts worth hearing were the parts in Qunlat." Bull gave a look of astonishment, perhaps surprised that Adaar even knew the language. Provided he still didn't know it was the Inquisitor's native tongue. Either that or he was surprised by whatever the Tal-Vashoth actually said. Cullen couldn't tell.He gazed up at him. "What did he say in Qunlat?"Bull shook his head. "I don't think you want to know," he chuckled. "It was mostly cursing. Very angry, violent shit. The kind that would make a demon blush."Cullen snorted at that. "Perhaps you're right, I don't want to know then.""Nah, better to ask him yourself." At that moment, Bull pointed to the tavern door, right when a very hungover Inquisitor was stumbling through it. The recruits paused in their training at the sight of him, and Cullen paused with his coffee tin halfway to his mouth. Adaar squinted, and shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand, starting to walk across the yard, but he stopped when he spotted Cullen. They shared a look, and for a moment, Cullen thought he might approach him, try to talk to him.But he didn't. Instead, he stormed off, headed toward the Keep, and Bull tisked."If I were you, I'd quit jerking him around," Bull muttered quietly."I'm not–""He thinks you are," Bull interrupted. Why would he think that? Cullen wondered. "No offense, Cullen, but you're bad at this. Really bad. Want my advice?" Cullen sighed. No, not really, but Bull was going to give it anyway. "Stay away from him. Far away from him. Tal-Vashoth, Inquisitor, Herald of Whatever, doesn't matter. He's still a mage, Cullen. He sets shit on fire. And where there's fire? There's always someone getting burned."Cullen swallowed, images of his dream flashing before his eyes.
...'You're going to burn this whole place down.'
'Yeah, that's the idea.'...
A chill crept up Cullen's spine.The Iron Bull walked away after giving such advice, no longer interested in watching the recruits, and Cullen watched him wander back inside the Herald's Rest.Apparently Bull detested mages more than Cullen ever did.The Commander sighed.Bull was right, but for some reason Cullen didn't want to heed his advice. For some reason, it only made him even more curious of Adaar.Only more eager to touch the flames.Ataashi Adaar was a blazing inferno–searing hot, like molten dwarven steel.And true, that he was a dangerous man. But bizarrely enough, that no longer bothered Cullen.Twas not the fire that irked Cullen, but the Dragon's cold shoulder that got under his skin.He wiped the sweat beading on his brow and got back to work before he became too tempted to seek him out.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Cullen had a lot of time to contemplate his last conversation with the Inquisitor before he’d departed for the Emerald Graves. Indeed, time he most certainly had, as the days with him seemed to stretch endlessly. But in that time he’d come to understand what his problem was. His fear had caused him to be angry and frustrated with himself, and Ataashi had misinterpreted Cullen’s anger. Thought it was directed at him, when it wasn’t. But it was what Cullen was afraid of that most concerned him, currently. Mostly that he had no idea what he was so fucking afraid of.
What are you so afraid of, Cullen Rutherford?
He asked himself this question so many times a day it almost drove him just as mad as Lyrium ever did.
What are you afraid of?
He knew he wasn’t afraid of the Dragon. Ataashi’s magical flame was the least of his concerns. He’d never seen a mage have such precision and control. When he fought at Haven, he was magnificent, and no Circle mage could have cast their fire more efficiently. Despite the Anchor strengthening his already inherent connection to the Fade, he resisted temptation and corruption as easily as Cullen resisted Lyrium. Other than his most recent upsets, Ataashi was as calm and levelheaded as a man could be, and as a person, Cullen found he highly respected him.
What are you afraid of?
Cassandra placated his fear of what others would think of him, should he have romantic feelings for another man. He’d almost begun to wonder why he’d ever feared such a thing in the first place. How many times had he seen the Champion of Kirkwall ignore questions and comments about his relationship with another man and practically rub his romantic affair in everyone’s faces? Including Cullen’s when they were in Kirkwall? And how many times had he overheard Leliana and Josephine talking about the Spymaster’s affair with the Hero of Ferelden?She and Leliana have been steadfast lovers for almost ten years now, and did it once influence anyone’s opinion of the Warden?It certainly made no difference to him.No. No, he shouldn’t care what people think either.
What are you so afraid of?
Ataashi’s size was intimidating, sure, but while they were wildly different in many ways, more so than the subtle differences between elves and humans, or the shortness in stature of dwarves, some things between them remained the same. It wasn’t the difference of appearance, when in fact, Cullen found that difference to be rather…erotic. So what was it then? Why did he balk at the idea of stripping down, climbing under the covers next the Inquisitor of Thedas, in his overly large Par Vollen bed with its optical illusion of being held together by two giant statuettes pulling massive chains?
What are you so afraid of, Cullen Rutherford?
He asked himself that many times, and it was right about the time he got to that point in the fantasy that he started to tense in fear. It wasn’t the thought of becoming intimate with another man that made him hesitate, but the intimacy itself that he feared. Thinking back on a previous conversation with the Seeker, it was the fear of being emasculated by another man that he always came back to. That, in a nutshell, was Cullen’s fear…What are you so afraid of Cullen Rutherford?…He was afraid of being intimate with Ataashi because it would somehow make him less of a man.Would it?What is there to be afraid of?Why did this thought keep bouncing around in his head that he would somehow be less of a man if he slept with the Inquisition’s Dragon? He’d spent enough time fantasizing about it–in the dark of his quarters, in the dead of night–to not be nearly as terrified as he once would’ve have been. If he were to be honest–and provided Ataashi wasn’t a complete sadist–what Cullen envisioned might not be so terrible, and might even be pleasurable, but…Still he was afraid of it. Even though he wanted it. Maybe it was the wanting it that he felt shouldn’t be allowed.He shouldn’t want to be shoved down on a bed on his hands and knees, to be mercilessly fucked from behind by an eight foot tall Qunari...should he?Or so that nagging voice in the back of Cullen’s mind kept telling him.
…What are you afraid of?
And if people saw them together, knew they were together, knew that Cullen was being manhandled by the Inquisitor on a daily basis, what would the men under his command think of him then? Perhaps he did still care what other people thought, after all. Granted, the scrutiny of onlookers was bound to happen, no matter the course of action, and Cullen knew this all too well…Still, he balked at what his soldiers would think of him. He was supposed to be their commanding officer, a figure of utmost esteem, perhaps only rivaled by that of the Inquisitor.They should respect him.Fear him.And he couldn’t help but feel that if they learned this about him, he would be nothing but a joke. No one would ever take him seriously, and Maker only knew the things they might whisper behind his back. It would make the Iron Bull’s candid remarks sound like comments on the weather. Absolutely nothing compared to the ridicule he would face. All those doubts and insecurities arose whenever he considered these factors. And the end result was a nagging voice in his head far worse than that of Lyrium. For he’d no one to blame for it but himself.
…What are you afraid of?
In the days the Inquisitor trekked across Orlais, Cullen struggled to do anything but think about him, the whole time he was away. He was their leader, so it was rather difficult to keep Ataashi Adaar from influencing his decision making somehow. But without Cassandra at Skyhold, as she, Varric, and Solas left with him, Cullen had no one he completely trusted to voice his concerns to. He wasn’t so sure he could with the other advisers. Other than meeting Leliana briefly during the Blight, they didn’t really know each other outside work. He had even less of a rapport with Josephine.But he found plenty to do to distract himself instead, both from work and his obsession with Ataashi. Among those things was chess, one of his favorite pass times in his youth. Josephine had somehow acquired a chess set for the garden’s aesthetics, and by word of mouth he learned that Dorian liked to play, and that was inadvertently how he became friends with Dorian those last few weeks. He’d had his reservations about the mage in the beginning, given he’s from Tevinter, but just as he’d given Ataashi every opportunity to earn his trust, he extended that same opportunity to Dorian.He proved to be both an entertaining opponent and an earnest friend, by the end of it. He was interesting to talk to. Not like discussing subjects such as spell casting with the Imperial Enchanter or the elven apostate, ne’er at all. Dorian had a unique perspective to offer. Though their opinions on many subjects may differ, he was engaging in conversation, and kept Cullen’s interest, despite their differences. But mostly, he was wicked good at chess. That made his afternoons challenging the mage to a friendly match more worthwhile, to be honest.But having a mutual friend such as the Dragon of the Inquisition had its downsides. One afternoon, Dorian brought him up in conversation, and the conversation itself left Cullen quite baffled really, as he hadn’t expected it. He didn’t know what had brought it upon Dorian to ask, but as they were playing in the garden, quite suddenly he leaned back in his seat, rubbed his chin with a thumb and forefinger as if contemplating, then said, “So, rumor has it you and the Inquisitor had some sort of argument before he left.”Then he leaned forward, moving a piece on the board before shifting back into that same position, all while remaining completely aloof on the exterior.Dorian was the very last person he pictured talking to about his current problems with the Inquisitor, but in hindsight, perhaps he should’ve guessed. “A-Argument?” he sputtered, wrinkling his brow as if confused, though he knew precisely what the man was talking about. Dorian smirked a little.“That was the impression I got at the tavern, when he decided to get piss drunk and bitch incessantly about you for almost an hour.”“You were at the tavern?” Cullen asked, and Dorian nodded, still smirking, as if somewhat amused by the instance. “So you overheard?”Again, Dorian nodded, then after Cullen made his move on the board, leaned in to check his piece, to Cullen’s utter frustration.“Oh I heard everything,” Dorian told him, still smirking, as if the whole thing were comical.Cullen smeared a hand across his reddened face. “I don’t know what the Inquisitor told you happened, but you’re misinformed. There’s nothing going on between us.”“There isn’t?”“No, there isn’t.”“Are you so certain of that?”No, he wasn’t sure about anything at all, but he really didn’t wish to discuss the finer points of a private conversation with the Altus. Especially when it seemed the Inquisitor did it for him, in his drunken stupor. Maker only knows what sort of impression he left on everyone, when according to Bull it was mostly angry snippets of Qunlat, and drunken slurring. “The Inquisitor and I are only friends, and I can’t imagine what would make anyone think there’s some sort of romantic interest between us.”“Oh but I didn’t say romantic. You did.”Maker damn it all.Cullen sighed. “We’re just friends.”At that, Dorian chuckled, then suddenly switched tactics on him.“Odd. The Inquisitor seemed to convey otherwise at the Herald’s Rest. You really shouldn’t toy with the poor man’s feelings like that, Commander. It’s terribly impolite, you know.”And still, throughout all that Dorian smiled, as if he knew, as if he could see right through him.Cullen rolled his eyes. “I’m not toying with him. At least I didn’t mean to. If that was the impression I left on him.”“Oh no, it isn’t,” Dorian was quick to correct, shifting forward in his seat to eye the board as if planning his counter move. “In fact, he too swears otherwise.”Cullen gaped at him for a moment. “Then what makes you think…”Dorian’s grinned only widened. “Oh it’s obvious to anyone, Cullen. It isn’t hard to see the little game the two of you have been playing with one another for months now. Both of you have been dancing around your feelings for one another ever since Haven. Lots of people have been speculating on it for quite some time.”Cullen blushed deeper in his embarrassment. He didn’t realize he’d been so paper thin. That obvious to anyone. He busied himself with picking at his glove for a moment, trying to think of what to say. Maker’s breath, discussing his feelings for the Inquisitor with anyone, much less Dorian Pavus, was the very last thing he’d planned on doing that day. But he was tempted. Just for the sake of having someone to voice his thoughts aloud to, he considered talking to Dorian about it. It was evident he already knew how Cullen felt for the Inquisitor.Apparently everyone knew.“I…suppose we have been dancing around the subject, haven’t we,” he finally admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, unable to look at Dorian anymore, simply keeping his eyes glued to the table, and Dorian nodded a little.“You have, Commander. So what is it then, hmm? Why all the fuss? I wouldn’t think a man like you even capable of playing games with anyone. Other than chess, of course.”“I’m…I’m not meaning to,” he mumbled quietly, feeling ashamed of himself. “I don’t…I’ve never…” He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m not entirely sure if it’s a good idea.”“Why, because he’s the Inquisitor?”“No, it’s not that. Well, that’s part of it, but that’s…that’s not the heart of the issue.”“What is it then, Cullen? Your religion, your reputation? Is it because he’s not human? An apostate mage? What? I’m awfully curious, and you can’t leave me hanging. We’ve all been dying to know.”“No, none of that.”“Then what?”Dorian persistent questions grated on Cullen’s nerves at this point, and it was taking everything in him to remain calm. But at Dorian’s final question he was reeling.“What are you so frightened of, Commander?”
What are you afraid of?
Once more the question he’d been asking himself for days now tugged at his mind and he couldn’t take it anymore. He was about to excuse himself from the table when suddenly Dorian got serious. More serious than he’d ever seen the man insofar. Even when they planned to infiltrate the Arl’s castle in Redcliffe and attempt to seize control of the southern mages from Alexius, he’d never seen Dorian so serious. He leaned back in his seat again, folding both arms across his chest and took a moment to choose his next words much more carefully.“You should know something about me, Commander,” he said quietly, keeping his tone even. Perhaps even gentle, for Dorian’s standards. “I am a man that likes to keep his private affairs true to every sense of the word. Which means I understand one’s need for discretion at times, and I’m very good at keeping secrets, you know. And where it concerns two people I happen to consider very dear friends, I promise, I won’t breathe a word of it, Cullen, should you choose to tell me.” Cullen studied him when he said that, and saw that he was being sincere. He meant it.Cullen sucked in a breath and let it out in another sigh, finally spilling his guts on the matter, rather harshly, even for his standards, but he was way past the point of caring. “What would people think of me?!” he blurted out in a hushed whisper, flabbergasted, and thankfully no one at the far end of the garden was even paying attention. “The Commander of the Inquisition flat on his back, legs spread for an eight foot tall Qunari mage?” he then spat vehemently, surprised by his own vulgarity for a second, but he pressed on. “You want to know what it is? It’s all of it! Every bit of it.”He felt exhausted after releasing all that, and buried his face in his hand for a moment, while across from him Dorian sighed. But his next words served to surprise him. “You know, I find myself faced with a similar dilemma whenever I hear comments from a certain eight foot tall Qunari spy.” Cullen opened his eyes and stared up at Dorian when he heard that curious statement. One that changed his perspective. “The bane of my people’s existence, you see. Everything a man like me is taught to despise. And yet, in spite of it, I ask myself the very same questions. For the very same reasons.”“About the Iron Bull?” Cullen asked, and Dorian smiled a little, but he made no other indication.He did, however, give Cullen probably the best advice he could have ever hoped to receive, regarding the current topic.“People are going to judge you no matter which course of action you take, Commander. You know this better than anyone, I imagine. I suppose it is merely a matter of what sort of man you wish to be. The Commander of the Inquisition that spends all his spare moments with the Inquisition’s Dragon, or the insufferable bigot who missed out on an opportunity because he allowed his own fears and insecurities to block his path.” He leaned forward, moving a piece on the board, winning the game. “Could always be worse. You could still be stuck playing Meredith’s mabari back in Kirkwall.”Cullen bristled a little at the Knight-Commander’s mention. “You spoke to Varric, didn’t you?”“I did, yes. Had a drink, heard some talk. He’s really quite proud you at least stood up to her in the end.”Cullen flopped back in his chair, and meanwhile Dorian was smirking at him again.Finally he sighed.Really, what was there to be so afraid of?Perhaps Dorian was right.“Another round then?”“Certainly. Prepare the board, Commander.”For the first time in quite a long time, Cullen found himself smiling a little. He still asked himself that same question, but for a different reason, and it carried a much different intonation this time around. One of disbelief. Really, Cullen…
What are you so afraid of?
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Having Dorian to confide in about his attraction to the Inquisitor had worked to lift a weight off the Commander that he didn’t even know he’d been shouldering those months since working with the kossith. But there was just something about the private conversation shared in utmost confidence with the mage that eased a tension in Cullen in the days to follow. While Ataashi was never too far from his thoughts still, he was better able to concentrate more on the work they were doing, and less on his budding feelings for the man, after such a weight being lifted from his shoulders.It was different than his conversations with the Seeker. Granted, Cassandra was a remarkable woman, and having her support was greatly appreciated, but there was something about having Dorian to confide in that made him infinitely grateful. He supposed it was because Dorian was a man who also harbored attraction to other men, and for the first time since realizing his feelings for Inquisitor Adaar were romantic, he’d had someone who genuinely understood his dilemma. Not a word of what was said left the garden that day, but Cullen left feeling relieved.But he was distracted by work, the progress on the Keep, and the constant worry of what danger they were hurling at Adaar every time they sent him on an expedition. The exhaustion from all the endless reports, the late nights spent burning both ends of the candle, and all the stress, made the sickeningly sweet song of Lyrium all that much more tempting. Knowing that the cool blue liquid touching his lips would grant his body the false perception of having been revitalized made him desperately crave it. He settled for coffee, tea, and sugary sweets instead. Wine when he was particularly insufferable.It was like a constant itch in his blood that no matter how much he scratched at it, there was simply no relief, but endless hours of signing reports, and hours spent in the training yard with his soldiers, did well enough to keep him distracted. By the time the Inquisitor returned, he was back to feeling the most like himself that he had in quite some time, and he knew without a doubt that he owed Ataashi Adaar a very thorough and heartfelt apology upon returning. He would hope at the very least they’d be back to speaking terms by the end of it, if it weren’t already too late.When Adaar finally returned from his latest expedition, a war horn sounding to signal his arrival, the Commander and several others greeted him at the gate. An armored charger was reined in, rearing onto two hind legs and whinnying as Adaar halted the beast just inside. The sight of the massive figure atop an equally startling mount stole Cullen’s breath away momentarily. But he quickly recovered as Ataashi dismounted and handed off the reins to Dennet, who led the horse back to the stables. Cassandra, Varric and Solas were not too far behind in dismount.“Inquisitor,” the Commander greeted formally, in front of so many eyes watching them.“Commander,” he grunted in turn, and Cullen steeled his resolve. He owed Ataashi Adaar a sufficient explanation for his recent actions, but upon seeing the kossith looking so rough and exhausted, he thought better than to do so right that second. He drank in the sight of the giant looking battered and worn from both fighting and travel. His investigation into Samson had lead him across Orlais, from the Emerald Graves all the way to snowy Emprise Du Lion, and Sahrnia’s Quarry nestled in the mountainous region. Cullen had read all the reports to come out of the place.Apparently a demon had taken up residence in the quarry, and not just any demon, but a very powerful one. There was little detail in the report save for the demon’s ultimate demise, but he could only imagine what the experience must have been like for the apostate mage. To be tempted by a demon was anyone’s worst fear, but especially theirs. And to be ruled by a demon was Cullen’s worst fear for the Inquisitor. He shuddered in remembrance of his own dealings with them in the past as a Templar. Then he swallowed the lump in his throat.He thought perhaps he would have to be the one to ask Ataashi for a moment of his time in private, thinking at first the man would continue to avoid him, but he stood corrected when his deep baritone rumbled, as he said, “We need to talk. Your office, preferably.”Cullen floundered for a moment in confusion. “Whatever it is, it can wait,” he said. “You’ve only just arrived, and look exhausted. You should rest first.”He then backed up in step when Ataashi took a menacing step forward and said, “We need to talk now, Cullen. It can’t wait.”Cullen sighed, giving him a once over with his eyes. There was no arguing with the Inquisitor when he took such a tone with anyone. Maker but how I’ve missed that voice. He had a feeling he’d like to hear whatever Ataashi had to say, at any rate. He looked beyond their quarter for a moment to spare a glance at Cassandra, who gave no indication she even knew what this was about, then his eyes slid back up to the Inquisitor’s. “Alright, my office then,” he heralded, waving for the colossal brute to follow him up the steps leading to the watch tower. Once inside, he understood Ataashi’s need for urgency, and privacy, as he pulled a stack of parchment out of his black battlemage coat and handed the papers out to Cullen. Then he leaned on his staff like a walking stick as Cullen read the words. He noticed the Dragon’s ornate staff had finally been replaced with a brand new one. Leave it to Herrit to manage to escape Haven with the weapon schematic still intact. A new metallic stave plated gold with a dragon perched atop was propped up in Ataashi’s grip as he watched Cullen read the letters.“Samson’s been growing Red Lyrium out of people?!” Cullen exclaimed finally, with utter disgust. The horned giant nodded gravely.“It’s just like Redcliffe,” he spoke. “I think this is how it all got started in that alternate future. I didn’t think information like this should go into the report. I mean that’s just…yeah. Thought it better to discuss it in private first. The quarry and all the Red Lyrium have been destroyed. We saved what people we could. Unfortunately the trail ends there though. I couldn’t get any information from Isthmael either. And I wasn’t about to make a deal with him for it. But the letters also mention a Tranquil, named Maddox, who’s been working for Samson. Who is he, exactly?”Cullen held his breath for a moment, summoning words, then exhaled as he said, “Maddox is the Tranquil that Samson had been smuggling letters for. Maddox was the…the reason he’d been expelled from the Order.”So it only made sense that Maddox should be working for him, even though he was no longer capable of any emotional attachment to the former Templar. The two of them still had a personal history with one another that Samson could take advantage of, and he was familiar with Maddox’s talents as an enchanter. It would only make sense that Samson should have Maddox craft his Red Lyrium armor. But luckily they now had an arcane craftsman as well. The arcanist, a dwarf named Dagna, that had been studying samples of Red Lyrium in hopes of reversing its effects.“Do you think Maddox could be reasoned with?” Ataashi asked. “Being that he’s Tranquil means he’s incapable of emotion, only logic and reason. Surely we could persuade him over to our side if we made him see the logic in it.”Cullen sighed. “That would all depend on what, precisely, Samson told him in order to convince him to do this in the first place. If he finds Samson’s reasoning to be sound logic somehow, then anything we tell him will only register as absurd and inconceivable. Provided we can find him. The tools and materials he used to craft the armor had to have been purchased somewhere. Perhaps there’s a paper trail that can lead us to where those supplies were to be delivered. We find Maddox, we’ll likely find Samson as well. He would want to keep Maddox close to his side if he knew all his secrets.”“So we figure out where he got his supplies and we’ll find Maddox? But how?”“I’ll start with Kirkwall,” Cullen answered. “There’s a lesser known shop tucked away in the merchant's district of the city that can procure rare and unique items, and perhaps its proprietor can be persuaded to give up information on the buyer if anything was purchased there.”“Alright,” Adaar nodded. He started to turn to walk away, but Cullen stopped him. “There is one thing I might mention, Inquisitor,” he said, and the horned giant turned back at those words, eyes alight with curiosity. “When we locate Samson, I’d like to accompany you on the expedition.”“Accompany me?” he repeated, and Cullen nodded. It probably came as a shock because never before had Cullen ventured forth at the Inquisitor’s side. It had always been one or several of his numerous companions that would tag along.“Yes, I’d like to be there when you storm his encampment.”Adaar lifted a brow.“This is personal for you, isn’t it?” the Inquisitor asked him, and Cullen let out a snort.“As if the same couldn’t be said of you.”He could see plain as day how Samson affected the horned giant, and if he could see it, no doubt others could as well.This was very personal for Inquisitor Adaar, though Maker only knew why.“Of course it’s personal for me,” Adaar shrugged, as if the answer were plain. “Everything is personal.”Cullen couldn’t help but huff just a little at that response. “Yes, well, I suppose the same could be said of me.”“But you knew Samson in Kirkwall,” Adaar stated. Cullen nodded once more. Ataashi studied him for a moment. “You know,” he finally spoke, pulling his pipe from his pocket, “You seem to know an awful lot about Samson’s relationship with Maddox.” He tapped the ashes from the pipe into his hand, then dipped his finger into the bowl to pack down the remains of cured elfroot inside before summoning a bit of mana to relight it, taking a puff. The sensation of magic being casted made Cullen’s teeth tingle. Ironically, he’d missed that sensation the last several weeks, in Adaar’s absence.The Commander sighed a little and nodded at Adaar’s words. “That’s because I was there to see it all play out,” he admitted. “I knew Maddox even before he was branded, not as intimately as Samson, mind you, but we were acquainted, and since I was Knight-Captain at the time I was a witness to Meredith’s punishment carried out, including Samson’s expulsion.” And yet another reason to harbor resentment over not only Meredith, but the entire Order. Perhaps he’d agreed that a mage had no right to pursue a romantic relationship, at the time, but he couldn’t have imagined that such an innocent thing as writing a few love letters would lead to such harsh punishment.“But at the time,” Cullen continued, “I thought there was nothing I could’ve done to stop it. And I was just as deluded into thinking that any punishment issued to a mage was justified. Thinking we were doing the Maker’s work.”“You can-uh-spare me the grizzly details,” Ataashi offered, holding up a hand, and Cullen nodded, eyes downcast, staring blankly at the parchment on his desk for a moment. “But that’s part of why it’s personal, I’m guessing?” he asked, and Cullen jerked his head in a slight affirmation. Then he cleared his throat, hoping that with it, it would clear away such unpleasant memories, even if for just a moment. “So, we find Maddox, and we go from there,” the Inquisitor concluded, and again, Cullen nodded. “In addition to potential markets, I also know several of Samson’s and Maddox’s former associates back in Kirkwall,” he said. “Some of them are still in the city. They might also be forthcoming with information, provided we approach from the right angle. And Varric has a network of people as well that we can use. I’ll broach the issue with the Spymaster as well.”“Sounds like a plan then. Let me know when you have something.”“Of course, Inquisitor.” He stared at Ataashi’s back as he turned to leave yet again, but as he approached the door, Cullen couldn’t help but stop him a second time. “Was there anything else you wished to discuss?” he asked, making the giant pause near the entryway, then turn back. “I-uh-I read the report on Sahrnia. You encountered a demon?” Ataashi nodded. “I can’t imagine that was a pleasant experience.”“No. Only killing it. Now that…that was fairly satisfying.”“Well, if you ever needed someone to talk to, you know, about it, or anything really…” He trailed off when he saw Ataashi leaning his head curiously to the side for some unknown reason, and he remembered that they hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms, which grated on Cullen’s nerves. It was now or never to set things right between them. “You know, before you left I… I wasn’t angry with you, Ataashi.” Something in the Inquisitor’s expression lightened a little upon hearing his preferred name, but only a touch. Though it was just enough to make him relax his broad shoulders. He stepped completely into the room once more, slowly approaching the desk with his arms folded.“But you were angry at something,” he said, and Cullen nodded.“I was, yes. But I assure you, it was nothing you said or did. Nothing you were the cause of. I’m sorry if you were led to believe otherwise. That wasn’t my intention.”“Then what was it about?”Now was his chance to be level with him. But he really didn’t think it would be appropriate to blurt out his feelings at this time. No. No it just wasn’t the right time. That could keep a little longer, when Cullen had it in his head precisely what he wished to say to the man. “I was… just frustrated over something, that’s all. I’ve just had a lot on my mind since Haven. It’s nothing to be concerned about.” Ataashi deflated a little, though whether he was relieved to hear that or disappointed, Cullen couldn’t tell. “You should go. I’ve taken up enough of your time, and you need to rest.”Ataashi sighed, his expression unreadable still. “Alright.”“We’ll meet tomorrow with the others in the war room.”“Alright.” Again, Ataashi turned to walk away, but again, he stopped, like he forgot something. “You know, Cullen, the same goes for you. If you need to talk about things, that is…”“I’ll bear that in mind,” he agreed, then slumped a little at his desk when Ataashi finally left.Well, at least they were back to speaking to one another again.Now, if only he could bring himself to find the right words to say, he’d be getting somewhere.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The trail that was left by the purchase and shipment of tools and materials likely used to craft Samson’s armor led the Inquisition to an ancient fortress on the outskirts of Ghilain, near the northwestern border between Orlais and Nevarra. A dry, arid region that was painstaking to navigate and largely uninhabited, which made it the perfect hiding place for an army of Red Templars. The road leading to and from the fortress, what had once been a shrine to the Old God Dumat, had seen some activity in recent months, according to locals.Cullen, upon receiving word, was quite certain this was where the Inquisition would no doubt find Raleigh Samson. The Commander of the Inquisition was fighting tooth and nail to keep from barreling head first into the fight as he was so enraged by Samson’s heinous acts, so he was on edge the entire journey out of the Frostbacks and across eastern Orlais. In their company were Dorian, the Iron Bull, and a small contingent of men that would rendezvous with a larger force near the border where they were to make camp, a safe distance from the fortress.Cullen hoped to have the element of surprise, and have the upper hand against Samson. He wouldn’t hold his breath for such a thing, but he also hoped to catch Samson alive and bring him back to Skyhold for questioning. While every fiber of Cullen’s being wished for nothing but the ex Templar’s untimely death, Sister Leliana had proposed the idea that they interrogate him first. Perhaps he could give up the locations of other Red Templar encampments they’d yet to discover, more information on Red Lyrium, and what Corypheus planned to do next.Having Maddox as an assistant to Dagna would be invaluable as well, provided the Tranquil would cooperate with the Inquisition. At the very least, having his research into Red Lyrium and its effects would be quite useful to the arcanist. Inquisitor Adaar didn’t like the idea of bringing Samson back to Skyhold as their prisoner, but nonetheless he agreed to it, and so they embarked. The horse Cullen currently perched atop had seen better days, but was a seasoned forder that didn’t flinch at cannon fire.A gift from Dennet in the early days of the Inquisition. A stalky brute, big enough for the Inquisitor himself to ride. Dorian, who rode just behind Adaar and to Cullen’s left, was seated on a twin mare, also sporting a rugged winter coat, another of Dennet’s thoroughbreds. Some of the younger mounts, though they’d been broken to ride, still bolted at the sound of swords being drawn or magic being casted, but these two didn’t so much as bat an eyelash in combat. Cullen’s mount in particular had weathered the assault on Haven and the Commander almost felt privileged to ride it.Behind them the Iron Bull scratched his left horn atop another armored charger, as they navigated the winding path that led out of the mountains and into the basin, Ataashi Adaar leading the procession, their contingent trailing just behind them. The journey was made mostly in silence for the first day, any words spoken pertained only to the task at hand and finding the safest route through the Dales to avoid any entanglements with the locals. Come nightfall they stopped to make camp, and conversation mostly consisted of quiet murmuring among the soldiers.The region was sweltering hot, and humid, so Cullen forewent his fur mantle, though he didn’t dare remove his armor. If there was one thing the attack on Haven taught him it was to never let down his guard, even for a moment. Dorian also discarded his woolen cloak the moment they entered warmer territory, and currently leaned against a tree next to Cullen in only is mage coat, clutching his staff, as Cullen sharpened the blade of his Ferelden longsword while they observed tonight’s entertainment. After camp had been erected and supper had been served, Bull and Adaar decided to grace the soldiers with some light sparring, Bull wearing only his pauldron, leaving most of his broad chest exposed to the elements, and Ataashi even more scandalously clad in only the bottom half of his brand new set of antaam-saar, the black samite clinging tightly to his thighs. He’d anticipated the warmer climate and traded his heavier battlemage gear for a lighter set of clothes, enchanted to withstand near as much as the armor could.The vitaar painted on his skin was ghostly white, and rather frightening to behold. It made him look almost savage in the firelight, as he and Bull circled one another, teeth bared, each clutching wooden staves, while their gaggle of onlookers watched with baited breath. The men murmured to one another placing their bets on who would win the match, the women blushed and whispered in one another’s ears admiring the physical prowess of each man in the ring. Cullen could hardly blame them, as there was much to admire.Bull had both an edge as well as a disadvantage over the Dragon, exceeding him by at least ten years of age. Ataashi was lighter, and faster, but Bull had more fighting experience on his side. Ataashi often had to exploit Bull’s blind spot in order to gain the upper hand. But Bull had a brute strength Ataashi lacked, as he’d spent many years wielding heavy two-handed weapons in combat. He was slower, but stronger, and the two were very evenly matched as long as the Dragon didn’t cast any spells. They always came to a draw any time they’d ever sparred at Haven.Cullen paused in sharpening his blade to watch with fascination as Ataashi danced around his opponent with tempered ease, like an acrobat, avoiding most of the Iron Bull’s blows. Obviously Shokrakar and Adaar taught him well. He noticed that his hair had grown some since leaving for the Dales the last time around, and while most of it was braided down his back, bits of it hung down over his horns and in his eyes. Still, the word held true. Ataashi was beautiful. Though he’d probably scoff if he knew the effeminate way Cullen would describe him. Ten years ago, Cullen would’ve scoffed at the mere notion of standing and idly watching two kossith sparring. He would think it absurd. After a time he stood upright, both legs sore and aching from horseback riding, sheathed his blade at his side and folded both arms. Watching Ataashi fighting shirtless, flexing those bulging muscles of his with every effort against Bull, was absolute torture. He snorted at the revelry. “You suppose they do it on purpose?” he asked Dorian, who smirked beside him, reaching up to smooth the mustache on his upper lip as he admired the Bull.“Of course they do it on purpose,” he purred. Cullen’s eyes wandered over the Inquisitor once more.“We’re not going to stop them, are we?” he asked.Dorian gave a low hum in amusement.“Of course we aren’t, Commander.”Cullen let out a chuckle at that.They continued their silent observation as Bull attempted to disarm Ataashi and wrestle him to the ground, voices of the onlookers raising in volume until they were near to shouting as the fight got more intense. Cullen would be loathe to admit he was completely biased, and kept his fingers crossed in the crook of his arm that the Inquisitor would win the match. It didn’t look likely to happen this time around, as Bull currently had the upper hand. But to their shock and Cullen’s amusement, Ataashi was able to wriggle himself free of the hold, then scramble to his feet.With one sharp right hook to the jaw, Bull was knocked back down, the crowd erupting in laughter, and the Inquisitor letting out a chuckle as he watched Bull groan as he rolled in the dirt, before reaching out to help him up. “That was a good one, Boss,” Bull commended, and they both clasped their forearms together, patting one another one the back before breaking apart. Ataashi took the victory, turned to his audience and bowed dramatically, lips parting in a wide grin, making Cullen snort. Obviously the horned brute was back to his old self, at least for the moment.He stood and watched for a moment longer as Bull and the Inquisitor brushed themselves off, the crowd of curious onlookers slowly breaking up to return to their duties now that the fight was over, but when Cullen watched Bull tap Ataashi on the shoulder to get his attention, then point to the Commander nearby, he panicked. The Inquisitor’s eyes met his for a moment and he could feel his face heating in an embarrassed blush. As if it had been planned, simultaneously he and Dorian glanced away, scratching their necks as they looked at literally anything else but Bull and Adaar, eyes darting around the encampment, as if they hadn’t just been caught drooling at the pair like a couple of starving hounds. Out of the corner of his eye he caught both Bull’s and Ataashi’s matching mischievous grins, but did his best to pretend he didn’t see it, and beside him Dorian cleared his throat. “We’re, uh, we’re not going to discuss this, are we?” he muttered, and Cullen vehemently shook his head.“No, no, of course not,” he chirped nervously.Dorian nodded absently at that.“Not ever?”“Nope. Never. Pretending nothing happened.”“Splendid! Right, well, goodnight.”“Ah, yes, goodnight then.”“Sleep well.”“The same to you.”“M’hmm.”Neither could get to their tents fast enough.The next few days we far more interesting than previously. Cullen bit his tongue atop his horse while behind him in the procession Bull decided to berate Dorian almost constantly with seedy innuendos. Bull’s banter was exceedingly inappropriate as time progressed, grating on the Altus’s very last nerve, and beside Cullen, atop his armored charger, Ataashi would occasionally glance back and grin at them both. The saving grace was that Cullen was spared any of the same treatment from the Inquisitor. For the moment. He could be sarcastic on occasion, but he was never so illicit as Bull.But they were back to talking again, so they did partake in conversation, but it was mostly about the mission ahead of them. Adaar was polite enough to keep things professional between them still. Cullen almost wished he wouldn’t be. But as they had far more important things to deal with at the moment than their mutual attraction to one another, Cullen kept his focus on their discussion. Behind them Bull and Dorian continued their banter, while at the front of the group Cullen listened intently to Ataashi’s words like they were treasured verses of the Chant.“It’s going to be overwhelming at first,” he continued, speaking of the effects of Red Lyrium on the mind, as Cullen hadn’t been exposed to it as often as Ataashi and the others had, and therefore wasn’t used to it. “I can’t say for certain how it will effect you specifically, but I have noticed they differ from person to person. Varric being a dwarf means he’s sensitive to any kind of Lyrium, but it didn’t effect Cassandra nearly as much. Solas and Vivienne both reported different, but stronger effects, and Dorian himself experienced slightly odd occurrences when exposed in Redcliffe.”“Could it be the amount of Lyrium in their blood?” Cullen asked. “Dagna’s research uncovered the Red Lyrium’s ability to adapt normal Lyrium and change it. Likely that was why Corypheus chose mages as his subjects to grow Lyrium in that alternate future you were witness to.”“M’hmm,” Ataashi nodded. “And now that we’re allied with the southern mages, he’s switched his focus to Templars instead. Because of the Lyrium they ingest. It makes their bodies the perfect breeding ground for Red Lyrium harvesting.” Cullen shuddered at those words. Never had he been more thankful that he’d stopped taking Lyrium than in that moment. “But the Lyrium only spreads when making direct contact with the target’s bloodstream,” he added. “Or prolonged exposure to skin. So don’t let shards of it get on the skin or near an open wound.”Cullen nodded again at that tidbit of advice.“I imagine it doesn’t effect you at all,” he remarked, and the Inquisitor blinked in surprise.“No, it…it doesn’t. How did you know?”“Because you don’t use Lyrium.”Ataashi’s head swiveled. “Okay…and how did you know that?”Cullen smirked. “I may no longer have all of my abilities as a Templar, but I can still sense it. The remaining bit of Lyrium inside me is drawn to the surface whenever I’m around it, but never with you.”“Creepy,” Ataashi quipped, making Cullen chuckle. “But does it…does it hurt you?”“Hurt me?”“Being around Lyrium.”“A little yes. It’s like having gone without a drop of alcohol for weeks then suddenly having a bottle of wine being thrust in your face. Like any addiction, the effect of having it near but not getting a taste of it is almost as maddening as not having it at all. Only worse.”“How so?”“Because wine doesn’t sing to you.”“That’s…even creepier.”Before Cullen could comment any further, there was a shout behind them from Dorian, who by now was fed up, and completely fit to be tied at all of Bull’s solicitous remarks. Current conversation having been brought to a halt by the distraction, Cullen leaned in to say, “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” Ataashi shared a glance with him, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, brows raised in question. “Brought the two of them for this mission just to watch them antagonize each other?” Cullen clarified, and the Inquisitor chuckled in response.“Of course I did it on purpose,” he said, grinning. “I can practically smell the tension between those two. Can’t you?”“Just to be clear, we’re referring to romantic tension, yes?”“Oh yeah,” Ataashi nodded. “Although they do hate each other, so they’re just as likely to kill each other by the end of it as ending up in bed together. But the way I see it, whether it’s through fighting or fucking,” Cullen couldn’t help but blush at that, “I couldn’t care how the problem is solved as long as it’s solved, because I’m getting awfully damned sick of hearing the two of them bicker about it. Figured that forcing the two of them to be around each other might do the trick.” “To solve the problem?” Cullen asked.“Yeah,” Ataashi nodded. “One way or another. And I think getting nailed one good time will work wonders for those two. Sex is really great for stress relief. I’d put it right up there next to chocolate as far as relief factor.”The Inquisitor glanced over just in time to see Cullen smear a gloved hand over his reddened face, and snorted. “I’m sorry,” he told Cullen with a chuckle. “That was…yeah. That wasn’t appropriate. Sorry. Uhm…Qunari aren’t as tight lipped about sex as most other cultures. I keep forgetting that. We tend to talk about it more openly, treat it pretty much the same as we would anything else. You know, like battle strategy.”That confused Cullen. “Wait, how is sex in any way related to battle, exactly?”Ataashi grinned, then sucked in a breath. “In many ways,” he exhaled, rather suggestively, and there it was. The look, the tone, the roaming eyes Cullen had been expecting. It wasn’t possible for his face to turn any redder than it already was, and Cullen glanced away from the suggestive smile the Dragon sported. But he felt Ataashi nudge Cullen's leg with his own when he directed his mount closer to lean in and say, “And either way someone's getting stabbed, know what I mean?” He waggled his brows.And at such a comment Cullen finally lost it.Yes, it was quite evident to Cullen in that moment that the old Ataashi Adaar he remembered from their early days at Haven had indeed finally made a triumphant return.“Maker’s breath, Inquisitor!” he exclaimed in disbelief, accidentally tugging the horse's reins, making it sidestep in confusion and nearly upsetting his balance atop his steed, not certain if he should laugh or be enraged, but he was somewhere between both, and behind them the group fell silent, curious as to what the fuss was about. “Andraste preserve me, I never should have left Skyhold,” he mumbled and beside him the giant laughed.But that laugh though. It was glorious sound, and he should very much like to hear it more often.“And miss all the fun, Commander?” Ataashi quipped. “But this is the best part about traveling with the Inquisitor.”“Of course it is,” Cullen groused, fighting the urge to smile.Their remaining forces were delayed in arrival due to inclement weather, but the Inquisitor and companions made it safely to Ghilain with few obstructions and made camp a feasible distance away from the Shrine of Dumat. There was where they would tangle with their query, and Cullen did his best to put his full focus on organizing their efforts and planning their approach. Scouts were sent ahead and came back the following day with crucial information on the fortress itself. It was ancient, but the walls were still solid, and the gate was impenetrable.They hadn’t the siege equipment to topple the walls, which meant their only way in was through the main gate. It was too well fortified to be busted down by any weapon. So while Cullen and Bull worked with the soldiers on planning the assault, the Inquisitor and Dorian devised a way to break down the gate. Finally after spending what seemed like hours standing outside the command tent in discussion, Ataashi and Dorian both entered the tent and joined Cullen and Bull as they leaned against a table on which a crude map of the area had been spread.“It’s quite possible,” Dorian started, “That with the combined effort of very carefully timed alternating spells our destructive magic could break through the gate.”Bull huffed lightly. “Leave it to a couple of mages to solve the problem with magic,” he grumbled.“Were you expecting otherwise?” Cullen chortled. “As long as that gate is open, I could care less how it’s done. Our remaining forces should be arriving within hour. We’ll attack at dawn, Inquisitor.”Ataashi nodded once, his face now sporting a serious expression.This was it.There were no more jokes to be had this time around.The fun was over.Now, it was time to pay Raleigh Samson a visit, and grant him the justice long overdue.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Cullen Rutherford was absolutely livid.The assault on the Shrine of Dumat bore no fruit, and seemed for all intents and purposes to be a wasted effort, as well as a waste of good, dependable soldiers. Good men, that all but died for nothing. Raleigh Samson had not been at the keep, he’d already escaped, as if he’d anticipated an attack, and his Tranquil associate, Maddox, had poisoned himself with blightcap essence, for which there was no antidote. The keep had been lit ablaze, and the only thing that survived the fires were some bits of Maddox’s notes, and the tools he used to make Samson’s armor.It was very little, but there was the possibility that their arcanist could study those tools, maybe even reverse engineer Maddox’s design through their configuration, and they could find away to destroy Samson’s Red Lyrium armor. It was better than nothing, and helped ease Cullen’s worry over Samson escaping justice. But what had him so upset at camp after the battle was not the situation with Samson. That he could’ve handled. But during the battle a Red Lyrium behemoth had injured the Inquisitor, who currently nursed a broken collar bone and several lacerations.He could’ve been killed. He’d saved Cullen’s life when he’d taken the blow that was meant for him, but at the price of his own personal safety. That, in short, was why the Commander paced angrily at the Inquisition’s camp site, clenching both fists, broiling with rage, while nearby Dorian tended to Ataashi’s wounds, and Bull silently watched the Commander’s manic pacing while sharpening his duel bladed axe. “Commander would you kindly cease your antics?” Dorian begged. “You’re breaking my concentration!”Ignoring Dorian’s request, Cullen whipped sharply to face the Inquisitor again, who sported a matching scowl when Cullen raged, “What were you thinking?!”“Commander, please-”“You could’ve been killed!”“Yeah, well, I was a bit preoccupied with keeping you from being beheaded, if I recall correctly!” Ataashi snapped, then winced, in slight pain.“Hold still, you beast,” Dorian scolded him.Cullen would feel guilty about upsetting the Inquisitor’s injuries by arguing with him, but he felt rather vindicated instead. Served him right, in the Commander’s opinion. His actions could’ve ended his life, and then where would they be, without their leader, their Inquisitor, and the only one capable of closing Fade rifts. “You should not be throwing yourself in front of others and putting your life on the line, Inquisitor!” Cullen snapped. Then added, “At least not so carelessly.”“Oh, what, so I was just supposed to let you die?!”“Yes!” Cullen exclaimed.“Cullen-”“It was my own foolishness, Inquisitor. My own mistake that I should have allowed that creature to best me in combat. You should not have thrown yourself in front of me like that. Bull, Dorian, myself, and all these men here, should be making such sacrifices for you, Inquisitor. Not the other way around. Without you, we lose our only means of sealing the Fade rifts. We lose our leader! Do you not understand how invaluable you are?! Without you, our entire organization crumbles! If I or any of us must die in order for you to live, then so be it!”Evidently what fell from Cullen’s lips was entirely the wrong thing to say, because Ataashi’s nostrils flared in anger and he shoved away from Dorian with a huff, smoke billowing from the Dragon’s maw like an true winged serpent as he limped away from camp. “Where do you think you’re going?! Get back here!” Cullen snapped at him, but the Inquisitor ignored him and disappeared into the woods nearby. “Maker damn you,” he growled in the wake of his departure, then turned back to see both Bull and Dorian glaring in disapproval at him. “What?!” he snarled.“Must you lose your temper at a time like this?” Dorian admonished, setting aside the bandages he held and rising to his feat. “He’s already injured, Commander. Now you’re going to lecture him like a child? The deed is already done. Now is not the time to bark at him like some rabid mabari for something there is no changing.”Cullen wanted to seethe at that, and was seconds away from doing just that very thing, and barking at the mage like some rabid hound, but he managed to hold it in. Dorian was right. There truly was no point in raising his voice at the Inquisitor. But he was just angry, and the part of him that cared deeply for Ataashi, as more than just his friend, or his second in command, agonized over almost losing him in the fight. Ataashi’s bones being shattered and blood being spilled, and the thought of him dying, was absolutely terrifying for Cullen.He’d never realized just how much he truly cared for Ataashi until nearly losing him, and it was all Cullen’s fault. Because he’d stepped wrong, and failed to avoid the fatal blow that would have been delivered, if not for Ataashi shoving him out of the way and taking the brunt of it instead. His enchanted armor had taken most of the damage, and Dorian managed to heal the worst of what had been done, but still. That could’ve been the end of Ataashi Adaar. All because of Cullen’s mistake.Perhaps he lashed out at the Inquisitor simply because he was so angry at himself.Maybe it was the lingering effects of exposure to Red Lyrium messing with his mind, amplifying his emotions, but Cullen sighed, hand resting on the hilt of his blade.“So I’m in the wrong, am I?” he asked Dorian. “I’m wrong to be concerned about the Inquisitor’s carelessness?”“I’m not saying that, Cullen,” Dorian told him as he wiped the blood from his hands. Ataashi’s blood. Cullen tried to avoid looking at it as much as possible. “All I’m saying is there’s no point in kicking a dead horse. What’s done is done, Commander. All you’ve managed to accomplish is make Ataashi think you’re not even grateful for what he did.”“I am,” Cullen insisted. “It’s only…it’s only that he shouldn’t have had to do that in the first place. I should have been more careful. I should be the one protecting him.”And as soon as Cullen heard himself blurt that out, he realized why he was so angry.Because he’d failed to protect the Inquisitor.He already failed him once at Haven, and now...“Yes, well, getting irate about it won’t fix that either,” the mage remarked. Dorian left the camp site in search of Ataashi, probably to try to convince him to come back, rest, and allow the Altus to apply more healing magic to his wounds. Some of the soldiers had been neglecting their duties in favor of listening in on their conversation, so Cullen barked, “Back to work, all of you!” The soldiers scattered in a rush to assemble camp, and the Iron Bull huffed, but continued sharpening his blade without a word to say. Cullen folded his arms and regarded him for a moment. Bull was being unusually quiet for some strange reason.“You’re being awfully quiet for a loud, obnoxious Tal-Vashoth mercenary,” Cullen commented, stepping closer to Bull, who snorted a little at that.He shrugged, and said, “I get it. You’re worried about Ataashi. You should be. He’s important. But try convincing him of that.”He set his axe aside, the whetstone next to it, and rested his elbows on his knees.“See, the thing is, Commander, that the Boss knows he’s needed. Knows he’s valuable. No one else can do what he can. No one can close rifts. That’s why he goes out and fights demons on a regular basis. But Ataashi doesn’t see himself as better or more important than anyone else. Vital to the Inquisition’s success? Yeah, sure. But invaluable?” Bull smirked a little. “Doesn’t click. The Dragon takes his job to protect Thedas very seriously, Commander. More serious than you’ll ever know. But he’s not going to sit back and let good people die if he can help it.”Cullen sighed. “I realize this,” he said. “But none of us can afford to let him make sacrifices like that, Bull. It’s our duty to protect him so that he can continue to protect the rest of Thedas.”“Yeah, I know,” Bull agreed. “And I’ve been trying to convince him that he can’t always be everyone’s shield.” He snorted. “He said ‘barrier’ makes a better metaphor, but I hate talking about magic shit. Anyway, he can’t always throw himself in between all of us and everything else, but here’s the thing Commander: we can’t always put ourselves between him and the bad guys either. There are times when we’ll have to sit it out, get out of the way, so he can do his job. But Ataashi is never going to think he’s more important that anyone. Big people, little people, he’ll treat them all the same.”“He saved your life, Commander, and that scares you,” Bull added, seeing right through Cullen with that sharp eye of his. “That Ataashi Adaar decided your life was more valuable than his, and you don’t know how to handle that.”True. He didn’t. Because he didn’t like what it implied.Cullen shifted uncomfortably for a moment, rubbing the kink in the back of his neck.He could have skirted Bull’s statement, or dismissed it entirely, but there would be no point. Cullen was most certain that the harder he tried to deny Bull’s words, the more convinced the Qunari would become that he was right, that Cullen didn’t know how to handle the Inquisitor making such a sacrifice for him. That he…cared about Cullen. Ataashi Adaar wasn’t the only person that wasn’t used to others caring for them. Cullen didn’t know how to react to it either. Of course his family had cared, but being a Templar meant being the one to make those sacrifices for others.Just like Ataashi, Cullen too had been merely a tool to be used and then discarded when no longer needed. Expendable, not indispensable. But instead of serving the Qun, Cullen served the Chantry. As a Templar he was no more privileged than the next man. Matter of fact, he’d had more privilege as a Templar than his humble background as the son of a farmer would ever have allowed for. They were not divided by race or class, but instead defined by their deeds in service to the Maker. It was a selfless job, with seldom reward, but once upon a time it had made Cullen feel worthwhile.Like he’d had a purpose, even if that purpose was merely to be someone’s sword and shield.But that had been his purpose.It was all he knew.“Perhaps you’re right,” he said to Bull, after a moment of contemplative silence.“Yeah, I am,” Bull noted. “But you already knew this.”Later that night, when the Inquisition finished setting up camp, soldiers were assigned to the nightly watch, would be rotated partway through the night, and the Inquisition’s inner circle found their bed rolls. Cullen couldn’t sleep, of course, and was stuck wandering camp partway through the night, thinking about his argument with Ataashi, and Bull’s words after the fact. Dorian had convinced the Inquisitor to return to camp, and he rested for a little while. Cullen didn’t know how to begin making amends so he’d simply left Ataashi alone to heal.But that night, as he wandered through camp, he was startled to find none other than Ataashi Adaar leaving his tent and taking a stroll. He paused in step and watched for a moment, debating on whether or not to approach, reminded of the many nights at Haven he’d find the Dragon out wandering the training yard. Their nightly strolls through the Inquisition’s encampment tucked in the Valley of Sacred Ashes, their conversations. He’d missed those days. When everything was strange and new, but seemed much simpler compared to now.After a moment, Cullen quickened his pace to catch up with the towering figure, who’s arm was wrapped in a sling as his injury healed. He tried not to be too loud, but also not be too quiet as to startle the Inquisitor. “Commander,” Ataashi greeted with a frown when he saw the golden haired warrior approaching. He didn’t look overly joyed to see Cullen, but he paused in step all the same so that Cullen could catch up to him. Slowed his pace as well, so that Cullen could walk beside him. “Going to lecture me about not resting?” he grumbled.Cullen huffed at that. “Would it do any good?”“Probably not, no,” Ataashi admitted, to which Cullen sighed and shook his head at the stubborn kossith.“I thought not,” he said. Wouldn’t work on Cullen either, if he were in the Inquisitor’s place. He didn’t like being idle. Only if his legs were broken would he ever sit still, and ever since he’d stopped taking Lyrium he was even more restless than usual. It was why he’d trouble sleeping. “But I would ask you why you’re not resting, when you should be,” Cullen added, stepping over a loose branch that had fallen as they walked. In the torchlight, he saw the giant’s frown deepen on his face, though it might’ve only been a trick of the fire light.“Couldn’t sleep,” Ataashi said simply. “Kind of hard to do that when my whole left side feels like it’s being ripped to pieces.”“I thought Dorian brought elixirs for the pain?”“He did. But it still hurts.”Cullen’s heart raced, thinking of what to say, if now would be a good time to mention their previous conversation, to try to apologize. He hated apologizing, because it meant admitting he was wrong about something, and he didn’t feel like he was in the wrong. His anger had been entirely justified. Ataashi had nearly died, all because of Cullen. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so harsh with the mage, but if they lost Inquisitor Adaar, Corypheus would win, and the world would fall to chaos. If he died because of Cullen…Well, Cullen could never live with himself, knowing that.“I should not have lost my temper,” he finally said, to which Ataashi sighed.He stopped in the middle of the path and turned to face Cullen.“No, it’s alright, I get it,” he said. “You were right. Without me, there’s no one to close rifts. I’ll keep that in mind next time.”Cullen frowned at how tersely those words were spoken. The Dragon was still angry. It made the Lion of Ferelden equally furious. But he managed to rein in his temper this time around and not snap at the man. Instead he calmly said, “It would be most wise, Inquisitor. But…I do understand how you feel. I know it must difficult to deal with that sort of responsibility. Especially considering your background.” Some of Ataashi’s anger slipped away at that. Not all, but some. “All you had to do was follow orders. Now, you’re making the decisions that deem whether someone lives…or dies.”Ataashi sucked in a breath through his nose, and let it out slow, dark eyes flitting over Cullen’s features. Evidently, Cullen had managed to pinpoint precisely why the Inquisitor was angry, and cut right to the heart of the issue. His words struck the needed chord. Ataashi shifted, then turned and found a nearby fallen log on which to rest, not winded from the walk, but simply wishing to sit. He winced a little when he seated himself on the log, bracing himself with his good arm. “I couldn’t save everyone at Haven,” Atasshi said after getting somewhat comfortable. Well, as comfortable as could be, all things considered. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t. We both know not everyone was going to make it out of that valley. Sacrifices had to be made, but…I dunno, I just…I hoped it would be over, you know? After ending the war between the Circle mages and your Order, closing the Breach, that we could all pack up and go home. Job finished. Maybe I might spend some time cleaning up the mess the Breach made, closing the rifts, but I never expected…all this.”“And it seems the farther we go along,” Ataashi continued, “The harder it gets. We lost a lot of good people today. I–We nearly lost you too. I don’t…I don’t think I could live with myself if…if you…”Cullen swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew exactly how the Dragon felt. He was tempted to rush to him right then, take that beautiful face into his hands, cradle it, and say, ‘You won’t lose me, Taash. I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.’But he didn’t, and instead told him, “It’s a sacrifice I would’ve been happy to make, Inquisitor.”“Cullen-”“You’re not bas anymore, Ataashi. You’re a person with feelings. You’re not expendable, and you never were. You’re the Inquisitor, and you’re my friend. You’re going to have to get used to people caring about you.”Ataashi grunted at that, but didn’t argue, just stared at Cullen’s boots.“I'm not used to it either,” he then admitted to the mage. “Somone caring...A-Actually mattering to someone.”Now that he was sitting, Cullen had to look down instead of up to make eye contact, and shifted from one foot to the other, reflexively placing his hand on the hilt of his blade as he stood. “Did anyone ever tell you why the Templars’ heraldry is a sword wrapped in flames?” he asked out of hand, and Ataashi looked up, shaking his head. “I thought not…You can find it in any textbook, or simply ask a cleric of course, but essentially, the flames symbolize purification, as Andraste had been purified by flames when burned on the pyre during the first Exalted March. The sword of course symbolizes our duty to protect Thedas from magical threats. To strike down its foes, like a sword. That’s what we were. The sword of the Maker. That was my purpose, as a Templar.” As Cullen spoke, Ataashi’s gaze softened, almost like he understood perfectly where Cullen was going with this. “We were not divided by race or class. We were equal in the Maker’s eyes, and judged only by our deeds. But…we were all just…mindless tools, driven by Lyrium, following blindly. Striking down anything and everything we deemed a threat, with no differentiation.Because that’s what a sword is meant to do, is it not? To be wielded? A sword doesn’t question what it strikes down, whether it’s truly right or wrong to do so, it simply fulfills its purpose, nothing more. It’s…only a sword, after all.” Cullen cleared his throat a little and added, “So believe me when I say, Inquisitor, that I understand the burden you carry. It’s not easy being thrust with such responsibility. We’re people, Inquisitor. We’re flawed, and we’re not always going to make the right decisions, but we do the best we can, and you have a responsibility to keep all of Thedas safe. Not only me.You cannot value one life over another too greatly. Only protect as many as you can, with what means you have.” He stepped closer and rested a hand lightly on Ataashi’s shoulder. “Not everyone is going to walk away from this. You cannot cast a magical barrier around all of Thedas and protect every single one of us, Taash. No mage is that powerful. But you can allow others to be your shield. Myself, Dorian, the Iron Bull, and everyone else at your command. Stop flinging yourself so frivolously into danger and allow us to protect you, Ataashi, so that you can protect Thedas.”“I don’t want people dying for me, Cullen,” Ataashi spoke, quietly, barely able to meet Cullen’s gaze, but he forced him to, gently lifting his chin with a gloved finger.“I would gladly stand between you and any threat, so that you may stand with us all against Corypheus, Inquisitor. A thousand times over. And I wouldn’t regret it.”Though maybe Cullen’s reasons might be a bit more selfish than some.He pulled away, giving Ataashi some space, but the kossith looked much better. Still upset, but not angry, just…humbled, perhaps. The gravity of Cullen’s words sinking in.“If I have not said so, thank you, for saving my life. Just…maybe don’t do it again.”“I’m still going to,” Ataashi swore, slowly rising to his feet. Cullen offered an arm to help him up, having to brace himself and plant both feet firmly in the dirt to keep the mage balanced as he stood. He’d rolled his eyes at the Inquisitor’s declaration. “You’d have done the same thing for me.”“I would have, yes, but my reasons would be far more selfish, I’m afraid,” he admitted, then blinked at how easily he’d admitted that. He never would have, before. The Inquisitor lifted a brow in surprise.“You? Selfish? Didn’t think that was possible, Commander.”Cullen scoffed at that. “You should get some rest, Inquisitor,” he urged, dodging that remark.“You too, Cullen. Don’t waste all my efforts to keep you alive and safe only to die of exhaustion.”Cullen sighed. “I’ll take that under advisement. Goodnight, Taash.”Ataashi finally smiled, at the familial shortened version of his name, then tilted his head to Cullen before heading back to camp.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The Inquisitor of Thedas meeting Skyhold’s arcanist was absolutely charming. He was so colossal in size compared to the tiny, cheery figure that spoke animatedly. Even when he knelt on the floor in Cullen’s office to shake her hand, he still towered over her, though it wasn’t nearly as much of a stretch for Dagna to peer up at him. Cullen, completely ignored in favor of conversation between the two, watched with a gloved fist over his mouth to stifle laughter as Dagna flooded the Inquisitor with questions about the magic of the Anchor.The Commander grew a little concerned however, when Dagna started asking about taking blood and tissue samples, to study the effects of the mark on the Inquisitor’s body, but Ataashi responded with an enthusiastic, “I’d be delighted to!” As he was quite eager as well to know more about the mark. They knew so little about its magic, only what Solas and Dorian could tell them about it, and while it would be beneficial to them all, Cullen didn’t think it wise to tamper so much with something they barely understood. That was how accidents occurred in the Circle.“Perhaps later, when you’re not busy researching Red Lyrium?” he suggested, dampening their enthusiasm.But Dagna said, “Oh, yeah, you’re right. You’re totally right. Sorry, Inquisitor. Maybe later then? I should get started on…” She hefted the bundle of tools confiscated from the Shrine of Dumat into her arms. “I’ll see what I can learn from these, and let you know what I find out, as soon as possible,” she added, smiling at them both, then exited Cullen’s office in a flourish, as Ataashi was rising to his feet. He still had a smile on his face, staring after her as she departed, then turned that bright beaming smile to Cullen next.“I like her,” he grinned, making Cullen chuckle.“She’s certainly entertaining, at least,” he agreed, but added, “Though you probably shouldn’t encourage her.”Ataashi grinned sheepishly then, making Cullen chuckle. He reached to shuffle the stack of reports on his desk, meaning to sort through them. They’d missed a lot, being absent for so long, and there was much for Cullen to glance over, so he’d be very busy for the next few days. But he and Ataashi had been getting along swimmingly since the night they spoke at camp after the battle at the Shrine. Back to their old selves, anyway. Back to being friends, sharing idle conversation and jokes as they made their journey back to Skyhold.Ataashi even flirted with Cullen per usual, and while the Commander still clammed up every time he thought to reciprocate, not knowing how to respond, he couldn’t help but smile or stifle a laugh at the comments, blushing like fool. He tried to stay professional, but he did enjoy the attention. And now, back at Skyhold, they were back to their usual level of camaraderie within its walls. Cullen and Ataashi both still nursed a little emotional hurt after the Shrine of Dumat, but it was healing. In the present, Ataashi stepped closer to Cullen’s desk, resting a hand on the surface.“I was wondering, would like to get a drink with me later?” he asked Cullen. “At the Herald’s Rest?”“U-uhm,” Cullen clammed up in embarrassment again. He wanted to say yes, but, “I do have a lot of work to catch up on, I’m afraid.” He gestured to the reports in his hand. “My apologies, Taash. But…another night, perhaps?”“Oh, right, of course.” Ataashi nodded understandingly. “I’ll let you get back to work.”“We’ll speak again soon.”Ataashi shot Cullen one last smile before leaving the office, and once the door was shut and Cullen was alone, he smacked the stack of reports to his face and sighed, “You idiot,” to himself. “Why didn’t you just say yes?” He had a terrible feeling he would continue using his duties as Commander as an excuse to avoid spending any time with Ataashi that wasn’t work related. He did end up declining drinks at the tavern that following night–he may or may not have done work he’d meant to put off until the morning to avoid doing so–but hopefully Ataashi would forgive him.He lamented to Dorian about it days later over a quiet game of chess in the garden.The brilliant afternoon sun peaked at them from between fluffy white clouds, and what little reprieve Cullen had from his duties, he decided to vent to the Altus about his problems. Dorian patiently listened across from him with one hand raised thoughtfully to his chin.“How much longer are you going torture that poor man?” he asked Cullen after hearing what he had to say. “If indeed you are interested in a relationship with him, why not simply say so?”“I don’t know,” Cullen sighed, watching Dorian lift a piece on the board and move it one space ahead, meaning to check his king. Cullen rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and laced gloved fingers together, pondering his next move. Both on the board, and in regards to Inquisitor Adaar. “It’s just that every time I try to speak, words tend to fail me,” he commented. Across from him Dorian chuckled a little. Cullen smiled, despite himself, and added, “Everyone’s natural response to the Inquisition’s Dragon, presumably.” Dorian mumbled a, “Too right, my friend,” at that.The two shared a bit of laughter at how the Inquisitor could render so many speechless, then Cullen sighed. Finally he leaned forward to counter Dorian’s previous move, making the Altus curse under his breath. The Commander thought for a moment, then said, “I dunno,” with a shrug. “It just never feels right. I never know what to say. And the timing is always…” He trailed off when he saw Dorian’s rueful smile, and watched the way he pinched his mustache briefly with a thumb and index finger, tweaking it a little. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”“The Commander of the Inquisition waiting for the perfect moment to seduce the Inquisitor,” he quipped. “I never pegged you for a romantic.”“I’m…” He was going to say he was not, in fact, a romantic. But he knew the Seeker would probably swear otherwise. He chuckled at himself. “Alright. You’re right, I suppose I am being a bit of a romantic about it,” he admitted.“You said I’m right about something! I want that in writing, Commander. Official record and all.”Cullen rolled his eyes, and Dorian snickered at him.“I’ll be certain to have the Ambassador beseech one of her scribes,” he drawled sarcastically, smirking.“But you never know what to say, is it?” Dorian questioned, and Cullen shook his head.“I always freeze up whenever he’s near,” he relented. “Tongue tied whenever I try to speak my thoughts. I don’t know why I can’t just, you know, say what’s on my mind, but I never can.”And he didn’t know why he was still so afraid to. He was quite certain the Inquisitor still felt the same about him. Or assured, at least, that he was still very interested in sleeping with him. The more Cullen thought about it, the more eager he’d become to explore that with Ataashi as well. Yet, proper responses to Ataashi’s advances still died on his lips. Maybe the Iron Bull was right. He was simply afraid of what it all might mean, and afraid of everything changing between them. Or maybe he was just irreparably bad at flirting.“You’re very used to dealing with all your problems directly,” Dorian pointed out.Cullen, who was inclined to agree, nodded his head. “I am. Put something in front of me I can bash with my shield, and I’m perfectly fine. But anything else…”“A problem with most men, I’ve noticed,” Dorian commented. “The Iron Bull, especially as well.”“Speaking of…”“Oh no, no we’re not discussing that. This is about you and Taash, not me and that…that brute.”“Oh come now, don’t be like that,” Cullen chuckled. “Don’t hide behind my problems. We’ve talked about me quite enough. Your turn.”“Truly, we don’t need to-”“Dorian.”“Ugh. Fine.” Dorian pondered the chess board for a moment for fidgeting in his spot like he was uncomfortable and admitting, “I don’t understand him.”“What’s not to understand?” Cullen asked. “Clearly, he’s interested in you.”“Yes, but that’s the part I don’t get.” Absently Dorian plucked up one of the chess pieces that had already been removed from the board and fondled it, studying the ornate brass figure as if it held all the answers. “What’s his game?”“What makes you think he has one?” Cullen asked, earning a withered look from his friend.“He’s a spy. Of course he has some sort of angle. Everyone has one.”“No wonder you get along so beautifully with Leliana.”“Ah yes, birds of a feather. Also, she has a great taste in footwear, which I can appreciate.”Cullen snorted. “Hmm, perhaps it’s to sleep with you?” the Commander then asked, with a hand wave, because it seemed quite obvious that was the Qunari’s end goal.“Yes, but why? What information does he think he’ll glean from me that he can’t already get from you or one of the other advisers, or even the Inquisitor himself? After all, I only know what the Iron Bull already knows about our missions, no more no less.” A look of epiphany flashed across his tanned face. “Unless of course it’s to do with Tevinter,” he proposed. “Perhaps he thinks that since my father has a seat in Magisterium, he can get close to me and learn the Imperium’s secrets, pass on the information to the Ben Hassrath, and use it against my countrymen.”“Maker’s breath,” Cullen sighed, rolling his eyes. “You honestly think Bull is just trying to get close to you simply in order to spy on Tevinter?”“It’s not impossible, Commander.”“But not likely either, Dorian,” Cullen told him. “The only way he’d benefit from that is if you were in fact keeping in contact with your father, which you aren’t, and Bull is aware of that.”“Yet, he pursues me still.”“Precisely. Have you ever considered that Bull merely finds you attractive?”“Well, of course he finds me attractive!” Dorian exclaimed, and Cullen stifled a groan at the ego of it. “I’m not blind and I do possess a mirror, Commander. Clearly I am not oblivious to the brute’s interest. But he despises mages.”“He despises magic, Dorian,” Cullen corrected. “He’s biased toward the misuse of spellcasting. Not mages themselves. Only what they’re capable of. He’s not wrong to be cautious; we should all be. We are at war with the Venatori after all, and we all know how dangerous blood magic can be. But despite all that, he’s still interested in you. Perhaps because he’s taken the time to get to know you, and he’s beginning to see what the rest of us see. A good person, hoping to use his abilities to help others, not cause their suffering. And now, he’s willing to overlook the fact that you’re a mage.”Just like Cullen did with Ataashi. It seemed that at some point, despite his qualms with magic and demons, Bull decided to let go of his biases and pursue Dorian regardless of magical capability. Only Dorian refused to see that. Perhaps because he didn’t like what it implied either. That Bull genuinely liked him and wanted to be with him. Finally Dorian sighed, leaning back in his chair and said, “Oh I suppose you’re right as well then. Perhaps it’s not as complicated as I’d hoped. So the Iron Bull merely wants to sleep with me. Can’t blame him. Not sure I’d want to though.”“Why not?”“Have you heard him bragging about his conquests in the tavern? Proclaiming what he does and with whom for all of Skyhold to hear about? The man has no sense of discretion whatsoever.”“Well…at least he’s not ashamed of it. Dare I say, he would not be ashamed of you either, Dorian.”Another hum was Dorian’s rebuttal to this. Then he set down the chess piece and relented with a sigh, “In Tevinter, men could do nothing but live in shame. Of course, we’ve spoken of this before, that what one did behind closed doors and out of sight was perfectly acceptable, but we couldn’t be…open about it. Because it was shameful. And we were never able to just be together. Perhaps we could have moments with each other, gaps that could be filled, darkened corners of a hallway, glimpses, but…to openly love another man? Unthinkable. Not like the south.”“It must’ve been difficult,” Cullen said, and Dorian nodded.Showing a rare glimpse of weakness, Dorian admitted, “I suppose the problems is I’ve become so used to hiding that I simply can’t be open anymore. Bull can be who he wants, but I…can’t.”“I’m sure Bull would understand if you told him this, Dorian. Just speak what’s on your mind.”“Perhaps. But…in turning over my own problems, I do believe I may have solved yours,” Dorian said. When it was his turn, he moved a piece on the chess board, claiming a knight and coming dangerously close to checking Cullen’s Arishok again. Fairly too. He didn’t cheat this time. Cullen had merely been too distracted by conversation to notice how he’d left himself open. But alas, Dorian had done this too. One more move and that would be game, set, match. But Dorian continued speaking. “You have trouble speaking your thoughts to Taash, yes?”“Yes.”“Because you’re not a man of eloquent words, Commander, but a soldier. A man of action. So…simply act.”“Act?”“Yes. Take action. If you find you are unable to speak in the Inquisitor’s presence, then don’t. Simply act on your impulses instead. Pull that colossal brute aside and kiss him already. He’ll get the point. It’ll say everything you can’t with words. And believe me, Commander, he won’t be disappointed.”Cullen’s face reddened a little at the thought of pulling Ataashi close and doing just that very thing, kissing him in a darkened corner of the keep, but perhaps Dorian was right, perhaps it was a waste to try to explain himself properly to Ataashi with words. He’d wasted enough time already. The Inquisitor would be leaving in just a few short days to follow up on Harding’s report from the Exalted Plains. Perhaps showing him how he felt would be the more expedient path to take. They could figure it out as they went along. “And speaking of,” Dorian warned suddenly. “Here comes your horned knight in shining armor now.” Cullen looked up to see the kossith across the garden, approaching the gazebo. “Don’t look, just act natural.”“I am acting natural, Dorian.”“I mean more natural than that, Commander. You’re too tense.”Cullen shot Dorian a bemused look. But he settled further in his seat, and when the Inquisitor was within earshot, he began to speak loudly–entirely unnaturally, to Dorian’s dismay–but said, “Gloat all you like, I have this one.”“Did you just sass me, Commander?” Dorian gaped disbelievingly. “I didn’t know you had it in you!”“Why do I even…Inquisitor!” Cullen almost stood up as Ataashi approached, casually strolling up to the gazebo as if he hadn’t expected to happen upon them, and it took the kossith entirely by surprise that they should be sitting there. He looked good. Too good, standing there in form fitting leather breeches and a lambswool tunic. It had no sleeves, bearing muscular arms to the elements. Lacing at the collar that had been left undone, and leaving just a portion of his chest exposed, all that dark skin on display. Cullen’s eyes raked over it briefly.“Leaving, are you?” Dorian asked. “Does this mean I win?”Cullen narrowed his eyes at the Altus, and slowly sat back down. It would be entirely out of character for him to leave a game unfinished, no matter how eager he was to abandon everything to be with Ataashi, so he settled comfortably in his seat once more and shot the mage a look. Act natural, he’d said. Not overly enthusiastic like a horny adolescent. Of which Cullen was no such thing. Just…apprehensive. “Are you two playing nicely?” the Inquisitor asked, smirking at them both, crossing his arms over that broad chest, and only drawing more attention to it.“Well, as nice as it gets with an ‘evil Tevinter Magister’,” Cullen quipped sarcastically, making both men in his company chuckle.“Yes, well, this evil Magister is about to ruthlessly crush you, Commander,” Dorian proclaimed as he leaned forward and made his move. But it was the wrong move to make. “You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory. You’ll feel much better.”“Really?” Cullen leaned forward and captured Dorian’s piece, ending the game. “Because I just won, and I feel fine,” he chuckled, then sat back. Gloating.Dorian gave him a mock scowl. “Don’t get smug. There’ll be no living with you.” He rose from his seat, shooting Cullen a wink before leaving.The Commander glanced up just in time to catch Ataashi smiling and shaking his head at Dorian as he walked away. Then their eyes met. He’d lingered, as if he wanted to speak to Cullen, briefly scratching a polished obsidian horn. “I should return to my duties,” Cullen told him. “Unless…you would care for a game?” He gestured to the empty seat as he made the offer.Ataashi nodded, accepting the invitation. “Alright, prepare the board, Commander,” he said, then sat down.“Have you ever played?” Cullen asked as he collected the pieces and arranged them in their proper places, and the Inquisitor nodded.“Shokrakar taught me,” he enlightened. “Back when she and Adaar first found me…speaking was difficult for me. I understood words, of course, but making sense of them…” He shifted about self consciously. “Communication was an issue. I struggled to converse with others, so I kept to myself at first. Then Shok managed to coax me into playing. It was something to do that didn’t require speaking, only thinking, and it kept me from going completely crazy with nothing to do. She was extremely competitive though.”Cullen chuckled at that last sentence. “Your sister sounds a lot like mine,” he said. “As a child, I played this with my sister, and she’d get this stuck up grin whenever she won, which was all the time.” Ataashi smiled at that. “My brother and I practiced for weeks. The look on her face the day I finally won,” he reminisced. “Between serving the Templars and the Inquisition, I haven’t seen them in years. I wonder if she still plays…” He drifted in thought for a moment, flashing back to the last time he’d even seen Mia. When he left for Templar training.“You have siblings too?” Ataashi asked, encouraging him to speak more of his family. Oh of course, Cullen hadn’t really spoken of them before, had he? This was the first the Inquisitor had heard of them.“Two sisters and a brother,” Cullen told him. “Mia is the eldest. Then there’s Branson, and Rosalie.”“Where are they now?”“They moved to South Reach after the Blight. I do not write to them as often as I should.” He glanced at the board, noticing Ataashi had made a move. “Ah, it’s my turn.”They played for a moment, each silent in contemplation, studying the board before making a move. The Dragon played fairly. Didn’t cheat like Dorian tried to. He claimed it wasn’t cheating, merely Tevinter rules he followed, the smug devil. But Ataashi on the other hand played by Marcher rules, like he’d been taught, and did well to keep pace with Cullen as far as strategy. Cullen always believed one could tell a lot about a man just by how he played chess. Admittedly, he enjoyed learning more about Ataashi simply by watching his counter moves.But the Inquisitor was a risk taker, he noticed. He would spare his pawns and risk his key pieces in protecting them. He played much like he fought at the Shrine of Dumat, putting himself forward, risking his own life, to spare others. He played in such a way that would minimize casualties of war. It was commendable, but it left him vulnerable to attack, much like what had happened at the Shrine. But to Cullen’s disbelief, he appeared to be winning, outmaneuvering the Commander at every turn. Already three steps ahead, and dangerously close to taking the Arishok.He wondered if Ataashi found it just as amusing–as they played with a southern board Josephine had delivered from a manufacturer based out of Denerim, that crafted the board to depict Chantry themed pieces at war with Qunari themed ones–that the Tal-Vashoth should be ‘battling’ the Qun, when in fact this was precisely what inner battle Ataashi fought as a freed saarebas. It was incredibly poetic from Cullen’s point of view, albeit disconcerting. It was all Bull’s fault they had a Qunari themed board. He’d suggested it to Josephine. Cullen had wondered if Bull suspected Ataashi’s true origins, and what he might do with that information.They talked a little. More about Shokrakar and Adaar when Cullen asked, who also divulged more about his own family as well. Finally, toward the end of their game, Cullen chuckled and said, “This may be the longest we’ve gone without discussing the Inquisition, or related matters.”Ataashi glanced up at the sky above, the ever shifting position of the sun, marking the hour, and said, “You might be right.” “To be honest, I appreciate the distraction,” Cullen admitted. Ataashi smiled at that, eyes on the chess board, but then, as if confessing a sin, he quickly blurted, “We should spend more time together.” Not one of Ataashi’s better lines, usually he was far more clever than that, and Cullen guessed the man was nervous. This was new. Ataashi was many things, but never shy like this. Yet he was, rubbing his hands on his thighs like his palms were sweating. But the way he said those words, it… “I-I don’t mean romantically,” he rushed to say, “If that’s not what you want. I mean I want that more than anything, but I don’t expect you to…”Cullen lifted a brow at that, mouth dropping open, momentarily speechless again. Now was his chance to reciprocate, at least indicate he’d be interested, suggest they spend time together doing something other than playing chess and hope Ataashi took the hint, perhaps finally take him up on that extended offer to have a drink at the Rest, but words had once more failed him, so all he could manage to say was, “I-I would like that,” as he absently rubbed the kink in his neck. His face had turned an impossible shade of red. Ataashi blinked at him.“Me too,” he said.“I…You…said that.”“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” They shared a look, and Cullen struggled briefly to scoop his brain up off the floor of the gazebo. Ataashi’s eyes dropped to the board. “Uhm…Your move, Commander.”“What? Oh. Right. Of course. My apologies.”Cullen fumbled, completely forgetting the next move he planned to make, so he moved a random piece, setting himself up for a loss. “Well played, Inquisitor,” he commended when Ataashi won, fighting to keep the tremor out of his voice. He’d flirted with Ataashi! Well, sort of. He’d only said he would enjoy it if they spent more time together like this, which could be interpreted a multitude of ways, honestly, but…it still counted. Didn’t it? In Cullen’s mind, it counted. He’d not turned down Ataashi flat or outright denied anything at least.Now he just needed to find the right time to act on this impulse.“Would you like to play again?” Ataashi asked.“I uh…I really should be returning to my duties, but…another time, perhaps?”“Yeah. Sure. Whenever you want. This was a lot of fun.”“It was, yes.”“Did you let me win?” Ataashi asked suddenly, and to cover up his blunder, Cullen smirked.“Perhaps,” he said vaguely, making the Dragon chuckle. “We’ll speak later, Inquisitor.”His heart raced like a thundering charger the whole way back to his office.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Cullen couldn’t take it anymore.It was high time he ended this little game of theirs.The following morning, Ataashi was due to leave for the Exalted Plains, so it was now, or never, in the Commander’s eyes. He would not wait a minute longer, so after signing off on his reports, he looked up at the runner standing idly in his office, scratching his neck, who was waiting for Cullen to hand him parchment to take to Leliana’s loft in the mages’ tower, and said, “If you would, please send Inquisitor Adaar to my office after you speak with Sister Leliana.”He ignored the ever so slight twitch of a smile that appeared at the corner of the runner’s mouth. “Of course, sir,” the young scout replied. “I will do that immediately, sir.”“Thank you,” Cullen said with a nod of his golden head.But perhaps it was fate that played a hand in events, because wouldn’t you know, not seconds later, none other than the kossith in question appeared at Cullen’s door. “Ah, never mind then,” he mumbled to the scout, who nodded. “Inquisitor,” he greeted Ataashi, straightening his stance behind the desk. “Commander,” the dark, hulking figure greeted in turn. “I uh…I thought we could talk.” He glanced at the scout. “Alone.”Cullen’s heart all but stopped at that word, breath momentarily stolen from his lungs. “Alone?…I mean, of course.”The runner was dismissed, scurrying off to carry his messages to Sister Leliana and await her report on the matter addressed in Cullen’s notes. The Commander then gestured to the side door leading to a section of the outer perimeter so that he and the Inquisitor might speak more privately. If anyone should encroach upon Cullen’s office, they knew to simply leave whatever messages on the Commander’s desk and he would get to them eventually. The air on the battlements was fresh and crisp, as a breeze floated past, bringing with it the earthy scent of the Frostback mountains. The walked to what Cullen had hoped would be an unoccupied section of the keep, where they could speak freely without hindrance. A place on the ramparts with, admittedly, a view of the mountains surrounding the keep that was rather picturesque. Ataashi was silent beside him as they strolled, frowning, but his lips moved a little as if reciting something under his breath. Rehearsing his words perhaps, so that he might properly, and confidently say whatever he meant to. Cullen was well aware of this quirk of his. He found it incredibly endearing. But the silence was nerve racking.“It’s a nice day,” the Commander remarked, mostly just to strike up conversation.“What?” Ataashi asked, pausing in step, confused. Cullen stopped beside him.“It’s,” He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around the empty enclosure, “There was something you wished to discuss?”“Yeah, I…u-uhm…” Ataashi sighed and moved to lean against the outer wall. Slightly hunched over like this, he was now eye level with the warrior. He scratched one of his horns in a gesture that seemed to mirror Cullen’s own nervous tick, and the Commander instantly recognized it as one that meant Ataashi was indeed very nervous to speak. “Vashedan,” he cursed. “I don’t know why I can’t just say it, or why this is so hard.” What followed after was a string of words in Qunlat that of course Cullen couldn’t understand.“Ataashi, you’re not making any sense.”“What?”“You’re speaking Qunlat again.”“Oh. Sorry.”“You’re nervous about something.”Ataashi sighed. “I don’t know why. I practiced what I was going to say before I got here. I thought I would just be able to say it. But I can’t. When I’m face to face with you, I just…”Oh if only the Inquisitor had any idea how alike they were in this moment! Maker! But they were so much the same. Seeing how flustered Ataashi had become flooded Cullen with relief to know he wasn’t the only one struggling. For all that he appeared otherwise when people were watching, in reality Ataashi was just as much of a mess as the Commander was. It was utterly adorable, and Cullen both admired him more for it, as well as pitied him.“You have never been this nervous before now,” Cullen pointed out. “And you know there’s truly no reason to be. It’s only me, Taash.”Ataashi blew out a gust of air, and said, “Yeah, right sure, because telling you how I feel is so easy. It’s not like we’re talking about the Inquisition, or even the weather, Cullen.”Cullen lifted a brow. “How you feel? What did you mean by that?”Ataashi ducked his head. “I…I care about you, Cullen.”“I care about you as well–”“No, no, listen,” the Dragon interrupted, “What I mean is, I don’t just ‘care’ about you, Cullen, I mean I…care about you, Cullen. What I mean to say is…” For the love of the Maker, don’t just repeat the word ‘care’ over and over, Cullen inwardly groaned. “But that’s not the word I was going to use before. I was going to say…vashedan, I can’t remember the stupid fucking word! What is it?” He squeezed his eyes shut, wracking his brain for a moment. “It was there when I was in my room. But I can’t think of it now. It was a specific thing with a same but different meaning.”“Taash–”“I want you, Cullen,” he blurted out. “You know that. I’ve made it obvious. But I don’t just want to sleep with you, is what I wanted to say. What I feel is…it’s not just physical. I could get that from anybody. Ever since I became Inquisitor, there have been plenty of people to make the offer. But I don’t want them. Just you. You’re all I think about. What I feel is…is more than what I could get just anywhere. And these last few weeks I’d been thinking that…that maybe you felt the same, but maybe you were just as scared as I was to say the words. So I want you to know that you don’t have to be.”Cullen felt a little faint after hearing such a confession.
Maker’s breath.
He didn’t need to find the right word for it. Everything he just said painted a clear enough picture for the Commander to grasp it, and it made him weak in the knees. He meant that kind of care, he told himself. “Maker, Taashi,” he gasped, stepping closer, eyes widened in disbelief. “I…I hadn’t thought…” Words were escaping him, his mind absolutely reeling. “I’m just as terrible as you,” he chuckled. “I truly don’t know what to say. I hadn’t…I hadn’t thought it was even possible. You’re the Inquisitor, we’re at war, and…I’m…Maker’s breath, I really don’t know what to say to all that.” “Just please don’t say you feel nothing for me,” Ataashi all but begged, peering up at the Commander with pleading eyes.He couldn’t, not in a million years.Another step toward the giant, then a gloved hand slowly raised, intent on cupping his cheek. “Taash, I–”“Commander,” came a voice, interrupting this long awaited moment. Oh for the love of...!! Of all the times, it had to be now. Cullen backed away and turned to glare, visibly perturbed. It was the runner he sent to Leliana. The man looked a little confused to even be standing there, and cowered under the Commander’s stern gaze. “You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana’s report?” he said, holding up the document in question. Cullen continued to glare, hoping he’d take the hint. Luckily he did, stammering, “L-left in your office, right. I’ll, uh, I’ll leave it on your desk. My apologies, sir.”He turned and scampered off, headed back across the battlements.Nosey little prick probably just wanted to see if there was truly something going on between the Commander and the Inquisitor.Cullen let out a sigh.Ataashi shifted awkwardly. “Look, if you need to–mph!”Cullen interrupted that thought with a kiss, and by Andraste it was good! Brief though, but it got the point across. Cullen was overwhelmed with the heady scent of smoke and the taste of Ataashi’s tongue when he pulled away and said, “I’m sorry. That was…really nice.”“Yeah,” Ataashi exhaled in agreement, stunned and wide eyed. “Yeah, it was.”Time slowed for a moment and they stared at one another, mere inches from each other, in disbelief and wonder, a soft smile adorning the Inquisitor’s lips, to match the one the Commander now sported. Pure joy in his heart. A thumb grazed Ataashi’s dark cheek, filled with the urge to peel off his glove to feel that skin with his fingers. Maker, he was beautiful, and he wanted Cullen with an earnest passion to match his own. Oh people would talk about this, once the rumors started spreading it would be a nightmare, but for the moment, Cullen could only feel relief.He’d done it. He hadn’t needed words, and he’d said all he’d ever hoped to say to Ataashi.Slowly he leaned in to kiss him again, this time slowly, Ataashi content to let him lead. His tongue tentatively explored the kossith’s mouth with care, perhaps in part to express every emotion he felt for the Inquisitor that he couldn’t speak aloud. Eventually Ataashi’s hands rose to loosely grip Cullen’s waist, and the Commander’s own hands slipped around his neck. He found that long braid of hair and let it pass through his hand as they broke apart, draping it over one shoulder. Their foreheads touched, both slumped in relief, the tension melting from their frames.“I…have a confession to make as well,” he told the Inquisitor, when he finally found words. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never felt this way for another man before. It’s…all so new to me. I didn’t know how to properly convey what I was feeling. It was only that I was nervous. I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt that I felt the same for you.”Ataashi gave a gentle understanding nod of his head. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t be honest with me.”“I’m…not sure what to do now. Where…where to go from here.”“We don’t have to do anything, Cullen. Knowing how you feel is enough for me. It will always be enough.”Cullen smirked. “Are you so sure about that?” he asked.Ataashi chuckled. “Okay, maybe not, but…can you really blame me for wanting to spend every waking minute with you, exploring what we feel, Kadan?”Kadan? Interesting word. He wondered what it meant. It sounded nice.“No, I can’t blame you at all.”“It’s just a shame that we have so little time.”Cullen sighed. “Yes, you’ll be leaving for the Exalted Plains in the morning.”Ataashi nodded. “But I’ll be taking you with me in spirit.”Cullen smiled at that statement. “I’ll miss you while you’re gone,” he said earnestly, touching his forehead to Ataashi’s again.“No, don’t say that,” the Dragon laughed. “You’ll make me want to stay. I’m already devising a plan to delay the trip somehow. All I need is one good excuse.”The Commander chuckled. “No excuses, Inquisitor. I have to share you with the world. I can’t have you all to myself, as lovely as that sounds.”“Hmm,” he hummed as he leaned back to look at Cullen. “But are you free tonight?”Cullen blushed. “I…might be. I do have Sister Leliana’s report to look over, and other matters to attend to. But…I’ll try to make time.”Ataashi smiled. “I’ll let you get back to work, then,” he said. “The sooner you get started, the sooner you’ll be finished.”Parting with the Inquisitor was painstaking. Cullen didn’t want to move from that spot, and it seemed for all the world as if Ataashi didn’t want to either. But then he stood up, towering over the Commander, but leaned down to peck him on the cheek, making him blush. “I’ll see you later, Cullen,” he said, then walked away, climbing the steps, headed to a different part of the keep and allowing Cullen to make the journey back to his office. The whole way back to it, he turned over the conversation, and that kiss, in his mind. He fought the urge to burst into a sprint.He made it back to his office not minutes before Cassandra arrived, breathless, clutching her chest. She rushed into the office and closed the door shut behind her, falling back against it. She must have ran all the way there. Or jogged, at the very least. “I saw you and the Inquisitor on the battlements,” she heaved. “Please tell me the rumors are true.” She had such hope and excitement in her eyes. So the rumor mill was already churning, was it? Cullen feared that would be the case. But he couldn’t even begin to be upset about it with seeing such excitement on the Seeker’s face. He smirked at her, laying the report in his hand back on the desk. “I have a dinner date with Dorian in the garden this evening,” he said. “Why don’t you join us and I’ll tell you both all about it then.”Cassandra grinned. “I would love that, Commander,” she said.Her excitement was wildly infectious, and before the Commander knew it, he was grinning as well.Maker, he thought. I kissed the Inquisitor today.He hoped to never forget how that felt.