Chapter Text
Chapter 1: In His Dreams
Cullen awoke, covered in sweat, his heart throbbing in his temples. He sat up, rubbing his hands vigorously over his face trying to scrub the image from his mind. He was covered in sweat. He threw off the sheets, letting the cool air from the hole in the roof above wash over him. For months he had been dreaming of her, ever since the explosion at the Conclave. After the first few weeks of dreams, he starting looking for her everywhere. Surely, if she was going to pervade his sleep in this manner, she had to be lurking around Haven somewhere. Though, he never found her.
A woman with long hair, black as the ravens in the rookery, streaming across his arm, her head pillowed on his shoulder, her hands fingering his tawny chest hair. Her eyes were emerald green. When she looked up at the tear in the sky, they glowed like the Veil. Her laugh echoed in his head, hauntingly. As did the way she said his name, her voice lingering on the letter ‘L’ for just a moment too long.
He could see her: walking the halls of Skyhold, cajoling with Varric, listening to Cole tell her about the infirmed, drinking with Bull, gossiping with Dorian. He had watched her ride away from Skyhold, surrounded by her friends, some of the strongest people he had ever met. Yet, he worried for her safety. He watched for her return from the window in his office. He sat at his desk long nights, hoping she’d knock on his door. She belonged here. Yet, she was nowhere to be found, coming to him only in his dreams.
He knew the feeling of her warm breath on his back, and her soft lips on his. His morning erection throbbed against his smallclothes at the memory of her fleeting fingertips strolling across his nipples. Some mornings he took care of it before getting out of bed. But, his frustration level was already too high this morning. He gritted his teeth, threw off the covers, and got dressed for a day’s work.
Rain pelted him in the face when he opened his door. Frowning, he went back into his quarters removing the piece of breastplate that he insisted on wearing daily. He could always make a squire clean and polish it later. But, they never did a good enough job for him. He ended up cleaning it himself again, every time. Today, he would save himself the trouble.
With his chin tucked, and his fur pulled up over his head he strode across the monstrous mountainside fortress that was Skyhold. He stomped off the rain before entering the door, that could have doubled as a drawbridge, into the war room. The Inquisitor was already there, sipping hot coffee from her mug, going over this morning’s missives with Leliana and Josephine.
Zunyla Lavellan was statuesque, tall and thin, with long white hair that flowed to her hips. She seemed to be exactly what their rag tag group of radicals needed. A young, Dalish mage came in and drew this Inquisition together. She was pleasant, smiling often, considerate of others, and reliable.
He didn’t know why, but something about her just didn’t sit well with him. He had yet to trust her. Perhaps it was her youth, her optimism, or her wide-eyed innocence being away from her clan for the first time. She had yet to really experience this world, let alone make decisions for an organization as large as the Inquisition had become.
Solas trusted her, however. That had to be enough for him for now. Thus far, she had proven herself to be level-headed and reliable. She was quick to lend a hand anytime it was needed, and quicker to close a rift in the Fade. Solas tutored her daily, reporting her to be a fast learner, and an adept spellcaster in the face of danger.
Zunyla and Solas had lead them from Haven to Skyhold. Side-by-side, and occasionally hand-in-hand they scouted the treacherous path up the mountainside. The journey saw two minor avalanches, but everyone arrived without further harm. The escape from Haven saw many casualties. A dozen people were carried by stretchers up to Skyhold. But, the path proved safe time and time again. The Inquisition’s growth had steadily increased in the past few months. Inquisition troops were now stationed at the foot of the Frostbacks to help aid travelers up the precarious mountain path to Skyhold. The trek between the foothold and Skyhold was now made daily, and infinitely safer than it had been when they first arrived thanks to the scouting of Solas and the Inquisitor.
Unsurprisingly, Cullen noticed Zunyla had been spending most of her time with Solas, the Inquisition’s Fade expert. Both were elves, mages, and apostates. Cullen had a good rapport with Solas. He had proven himself to be forthcoming with no shortage of helpful information about the Fade and what was happening with the rift in the sky. On occasion he’d watch them train in the courtyard. Solas never smiled, except when he was near Zunyla. The man had been with the Inquisition before it had even been named, and he had never seen him laugh or smile in all that time. Solas had brought her in after finding her in the remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, the sole survivor. She had been attending the Conclave as a representative of Clan Lavellan.
Cullen found Solas in his quarters on the bottom floor of the rotunda. Solas had painted the high walls in colorful frescos of the events that had transpired thus far. Wolves howled. Circle towers stood in silence. A radiant sun limned a chantry. Cullen was sure there was meaning in every brush stroke, but had neither the time nor the patience to begin deciphering the elf’s code.
“Ah, Commander,” Solas greeted him as he approached his desk. “To what to I owe this visit?”
“Solas, I wondered if I could have a word with you, in regards to our Inquisitor?” Cullen asked.
Solas closed the book which he was reading and motioned for Cullen to take a seat. “But, of course. What is it about her that troubles you?”
“That you know she gives me trouble speaks volumes to your person. I feel very little happens in Skyhold without falling upon your ears. You are ever watchful, aren’t you?”
“Only to that which is of some import. The Inquisitor and her officers are certainly worthy of my scrutiny,” Solas said, with an amiable smile.
“Ha! Well, I hope we’re living up to your standards then?” Cullen asked.
“What matters is that you’re living up to your own standards, Commander,” Solas replied.
Cullen bowed his head. “As of late, I feel that I am not.”
“Do tell,” Solas said, encouraging Cullen to continue.
“Inquisitor Lavellan . . . at every turn she seems to be putting forth all of her efforts into our cause. She has flourished as a diplomat, persevered as a warrior, and proved to be a fair adjudicator.” Cullen listed her accomplishments thinking those should be reasons enough to trust in her.
“But . . .?” Solas left the word hanging in thin air.
“But, I find myself uneasy around her. I’ve noticed that the two of you spend quite a lot of time together. And, I was wondering if you could perhaps provide me with some insight.”
“What is it about her that makes you uneasy? Her certainty? Her ability to make quick calls of judgment? Or the fact that she is your superior?” Solas asked.
“I think it comes down to the fact that I feel as if she holds all of our fates in the palm of her hand. And that hand glows with the very power of the thing we’re trying to stop,” Cullen answered.
Solas nodded. “You’re right, Commander. I advise that you spend some more time with her. Get to know her. It is the only thing to quell your fears. But, something else troubles your mind these days, does it not?”
Cullen laughed nervously. “Everything else troubles my mind these days. The lyrium dreams especially, I haven’t been sleeping well because of them. I talked to Cassandra about them. She’s quite understanding.”
“I can help.”
“Wait. Solas, are you saying there’s something you can do to help ease the effects of the lyrium dreams?” Cullen sat there, astonished. He should have thought of it earlier, that the elf who had mastered the Fade may be able to help ease the pain of the lyrium withdrawal.
“Of course there is,” Solas answered. Dreams take place in the Fade. And I am a Fade Walker. Tonight, stop by before you retire for the evening. I’ll have a draught for you to take before you go to bed. If nothing else, it will answer some questions for you.”
Cullen stood, extending a hand to the elf. “Thank you.”
“I only hope that you will be thanking me tomorrow. The Fade is unpredictable, as you know.”
***
The Keep was awash in shadows as Cullen walked back to his quarters that night. A full moon was rising, and the shadows were long. He could hear the rustling of the autumn leaves blowing in the gentle breeze, the soft nicker of a horse in the stables as one last flake of hay was being thrown, the drumming of boot heels against a stone wall.
Cole sat on the parapets overlooking the merchants’ courtyard, legs dangling over the crenellation. He rolled the wide brim of his hat in his fingers. Cullen had a soft spot for the boy. Many people in Skyhold treated Cole as a pariah. Granted, he came into this world as a spirit, perhaps even an abomination. But, Cullen could not help but be reminded of himself as a young man, new to the Templar Order, searching for his place in this world.
Cullen hopped onto the battlements, taking a seat by Cole. “You can really see everything in Skyhold under this moon, can’t you?”
“Everything that is outside can be seen, yes. But, I cannot see what is inside the walls. Can you, Commander?” Cole asked.
Sometimes, he forgot how literal Cole could be. “No, I can’t see inside the walls either, Cole.”
“I did not think so,” Cole responded.
“How are you, Cole?” Cullen asked.
“Oh, I am well. I can still hear her, though. She finds you. You don’t hear. What once was . . . should be . . . must be again. Reaches for you. Can’t hold on. Not really there.” Cole unrolled the brim of his hat, put it on his head, and hopped down. With an odd smile on his face, one that looked like it belonged to someone else, he looked up at the Commander. “Rest easy, Cullen.”
As he watched Cole walk towards the tavern Cullen tried to shake the feeling he got every time the boy dove into his thoughts. He always found it unsettling, but tonight he wasn’t surprised. He thought about those dreams frequently throughout the day. He hoped that Solas was right. Tonight, he would drink the potion and pray to Andraste for some answers.