Winter in the Emprise. The snow lies heavy on the roofs and towers and in Cullen's room a fire is burning. He has a fire, after all. He has a roof over his head. In these days, a lot of people don't even have that.

The Inquisition has been lucky, Cullen assumes. When the organisation officially disbanded a few weeks ago, Ellana Lavellan was granted Suledin Keep by the Chantry as a parting gift from the Divine. Victoria herself made sure of that. To the outside world the Keep is now Lavellan's personal home. However, in reality, those still loyal to the Inquisition reside here as well and so the work continues, although not in the same way as before.

For one thing, Lavellan doesn't like how Cullen keeps referring to their party as the Inquisition. The Inquisition is dead, she tells him. Now we're just a handful of friends trying to save the world.

Unlike before? he's been tempted to ask, but he knows what she means. He knows that before, they were a military unit. They were a force to be reckoned with.

Now they're nothing.

At least Cullen feels like he's nothing.

As they no longer have an army, they don't have any soldiers. Thus Cullen clearly isn't a commander anymore. Without a field of expertise he simply cannot help. He has no role to play and if it wasn't for Cassandra, he wouldn't have agreed to stay here in the first place.

Well, Cassandra. But also the fact that he doesn't have anywhere else to go. Before the Inquisition he was a Templar. He'd served the Templars since he was thirteen years old. Now, he is done with the Order. He's done with lyrium. He wants nothing to do with any of it. He supposes he could go back to Ferelden, back to his family. In truth, he considers that option every day. But what would he do there? What would he do with his life?

The world might come to an end soon anyway.

A soft tapping at the door interrupts Cullen's thoughts. He stretches his legs and prepares to rise from the chair by the fire where he's been sitting. His Mabari dog barks in anticipation. By now, Cullen is accustomed to spend a lot of time alone and he can't help but wonder about the visitor. Who could possibly want to speak to him at this late hour?

Before Cullen is even out of the chair, the door opens halfway to reveal Dorian's handsome face peeking in.

"Ah, there you are", the tevinter says, as if surprised to find Cullen in his own room. "I've been looking for you."

Cullen falls back against the cushions. "You have? Where?"

"In the training grounds." Dorian closes the door behind him, walks through the room and sits down in an empty chair next to Cullen in front of the fireplace. "I was hoping to see you flex those beautiful muscles." He crosses his arms and grins.

Cullen shifts uncomfortably. It's not Dorian's choice of words that makes him feel embarrassed. He is used to the flirtatious repartee that signifies his friend. No, it's the reminder that he hasn't been practicing lately that bothers him. He is still in pretty good shape, he assumes, but his body is definitely in decline. If he doesn't keep up with the training he'll gain weight eventually and that... that would confirm that he is no longer a commander. Or a Templar. He won't even be a soldier.

"Sorry to disappoint", he says.

"Don't be sorry. My father always told me I have way too high expectations in life."

The Mabari walks over to Dorian's chair to sniff at his hand. The tevinter indifferently pets the dog under the chin and Cullen smiles despite himself. He does have something now that he didn't have before. He has friends. Dorian is his friend, and, of course, Cassandra. As long as they are staying, so will he. Won't he?

Except that Dorian isn't staying. Cullen knows that much. Dorian stayed for Lavellan, to see her safely installed in the Emprise du Lion. Now he will be leaving for Tevinter, probably within the next couple of days. He's got duties of his own up in the north, but he'll also provide Lavellan with information. Maker's breath, Cullen thinks. It's hard to get used to the fact that Thedas has a new enemy now, in his own way more dangerous than Corypheus ever was.

"What can I do for you, Dorian?"

"Always the hero, right?" Dorian smiles. "Actually, this situation does call for a hero. I'm leaving soon, as you well know, and I'm... I'm worried about her."

At that, Cullen feels a stillness inside him that he can't explain. "About who?"

"You are not an idiot so please stop acting like one. I'm worried about our most precious Inquisitor."

"She's tough", Cullen says dismissively. "She'll be alright."

"I'm not so sure. She's having nightmares about that prepostrous Well of Sorrows and about... about other things."

"Other things? You mean him."

"Yes, him." Dorian still smiles, but the smile no longer reaches his eyes. "I fear she can't get over him."

"You'd think that the fact that he wants to destroy the world, destroy us all..." Cullen takes a deep breath. "You'd think that would set her mind off him. But who am I to say? That's her personal life. It doesn't concern me."

"It's complicated for her", Dorian says. "It's not just him, it's what he represents. She renounced being the Herald of Andraste because she isn't an Andrastian. To her, the Inquisition was never about religion. Not until she realised -, well, that it is." He laughs. "She can deal with all of that, though. What she can't deal with is her broken heart."

"Don't you think that in time... that she'll move on?" Like the rest of us do, Cullen adds to himself. The rest of us move on. Why is her pain so damn special? I moved on from all of them. From Amell. From Hawke. From...

"Oh, yes, she'll move on. It's just that she needs a little help from her friends in order to do so. And since I won't be here... Well, I need you to take care of her."

Cullen snorts. "Why me? I'm not even her friend."

"That harsh, Cullen." Dorian looks at him firmly. "You care for her, don't you?"

"Of course I care for her, but our relationship is strictly professional. Why don't you ask any of her actual friends?" He pauses and eyes the tevinter suspiciously. "Of maybe you have. Maybe you're on a little tour here, persuading everyone to enlist."

Out of the advisors and companions, most have chosen to stay with Lavellan. Among those closest to her, only Josephine has left. She is now in Val Royeaux to make sure the correspondance between the Chantry and the former Inquisition runs subtly. Victoria (Cullen has a hard time not thinking of the woman as Leliana) can't openly support Lavellan for obvious reasons, but the former spy-master excels at keeping things in the dark. With Josephine there to smooth her actions over... well, nothing can go wrong in that department.

Vivienne and Sera are gone as well, Vivienne to Halamshiral and Sera to Maker knows where. Lavellan never really got along with those two and in the case of Vivienne, Cullen can relate. No one gets along with Vivienne. As for Sera, he himself likes her, but he can see why Lavellan doesn't. The two women are both elves but they view Elven culture completely differently and Sera has insulted Lavellan's Dalish pride too many times.

Everyone else is still here, although Varric disappears from time to time to visit Hawke and Anders in their secret little cabin. That's quite a lot of people for Dorian to recruit as Lavellan's personal caretakers, especially since they all know her well.

"I can assure you that I'm not doing a tour, as you so blatantly put it." Dorian manages to look almost wounded by the accusation. "I'm asking this of you specifically."

"Really?" Cullen frowns. "What can I do for her that the others can't?"

Humour is suddenly back in Dorian's eyes, causing Cullen to glare at him. He knows his friend well enough to recognise that particular look of mischief. The tevinter then raises his eyebrows, as to imply something, and Cullen's suspicions are confirmed.

"A great deal, I would think", Dorian says.

"This is getting ridiculous."

"Fine, I'll tell you. Just promise me you're with me on this."

"I can't promise anything until I know what this actually is", Cullen points out, struggling not to lose his patience.

"Alright, promise not to bark at me then."

"Bark? I'm not a dog."

"Oh, but you are. You're such an adorable, strong, protective watch dog. Women love that."

They do?

"Really, Dorian. Now I don't even want to know."

"Oh, but you know already, don't you?"

Cullen gives a joyless laugh. "I can suddenly read your thoughts?"

"Apparently you can, or you wouldn't have made that comment."

"What comment?"

"The comment about not wanting to know."

"Out with it", Cullen snaps.

Dorian holds up both of his hands in a submissive gesture. "Alright. I want you to sleep with her."

The stillness Cullen felt before is suddenly back. He can't move. He can't breathe. He can't even begin to percieve Dorian's words, or their impact.

"What?" he snarls.

"Have sex with her. Make sweet love to her. Fuck her. Whatever suits you."

"Fuck..." Cullen begins but stops mid-sentence. He runs his hand through his hair, desperately trying to comprehend what the other man is proposing. "Are you insane?"

"No. I'm many things, Cullen, but I'm fairly certain that my brain is fully operational. In fact, I take a considerable amount of pride in it. Besides, it's a reasonable suggestion. You have before, haven't you? With her."

"What?"

"Oh, come now, Commander. I know you've got a thing going on with that boyish charm of yours, but you can't possibly have me believe..."

"That is... that is none of your business", Cullen interrupts, gasping for air. "This entire conversation is..."

"Is what, way out of hand?"

"Yes. In every possible way."

"Don't you mean to say that Ellana Lavellan is out of your hands? If so, why don't we change that?"

"That's enough." Cullen rises abrubtly and walks over to the window. His lungs feel too small to be able to provide him with the air he so urgently needs. He stares into the darkness for a moment, then starts pacing restlessly around the room. The Mabari dog gets up to follow his steps. Cullen ignores the animal. Instead he pulls at his hair over and over again, frustrated.

"Don't do that", Dorian says. The tevinter is still sitting comfortably in his chair by the fireplace. "You'll ruin your curls."

"You're completely out of line, Dorian."

Dorian laughs. "The things I do for my friends..."

Cullen spins around to glare at him. "The worst part is that you're not even joking. You're sincere. You care for her and somehow you believe that..." He sighs, in loss for proper words, "...with me would help her?"

"I believe that sex will help her. It doesn't have to be with you, but you're the best available candidate."

Cullen closes his eyes. Dorian's logic is completely twisted and Cullen should be angry with him. Furious, even. He does feel ready to explode but at the same time he realises that his rage isn't directed at Dorian. This entire conversation, as bizzare as it is, stems from Dorian's love for Lavellan and that is... Well, he can't argue with that. He can't argue with Dorian about anything for that matter, simply because he doesn't want to. He's tired of arguments and Dorian, with the exception of Cassandra, is his only friend. Soon he'll be in Tevinter and Cullen is going to miss him even though he's an impossible human being.

Still, Cullen longs for release, to let the anger loose. He wants to growl at Dorian, Maker's breath, even bark. The very idea of it, of being close to Lavellan, sends waves of electricity through his spine. He's just... he wants... But he can't. He's been through too much to even consider opening that door.

He has moved on and he must continue to do so.

He must continue to move on from her.

Then why aren't you in Ferelden? a voice in his head whispers.

To that, Cullen has no answer. He turns his back on Dorian and continues to look out of the window, into the night. Behind him, Dorian plays with the Mabari dog while eying Cullen inconspiciously. At least the mage knows when to shut up, because he doesn't utter a word.

Several minutes pass, then Cullen asks: "Why am I the best available candidate?" His eyes are still set on the black night sky.

Dorian chuckles. "Why do you think?"

"She rejected me, you know."

"I know", Dorian says bluntly, "but she wanted you once. Before that."

"Before..." Cullen begins while another voice in his head starts to protest. Don't say it. Don't speak of it, not to anyone. Don't go there.

Dorian waits.

"Before him", Cullen says, the word a rasping sound. "Before she grew close to him."

"That's right." Dorian shifts in his chair and Cullen can hear the Mabari waddle away to lie in front of the fireplace. "Before him. Now he's gone."

"But she still loves him."

"My point exactly. Somehow she needs to stop. For her own sake, but also for all of us. She won't be able to defeat him as long as she still loves him. Physical attraction is not love, that is true, but it's close to it. It's a start. It'll show her there are other things than him in the world. Other people."

Cullen turns around. "Then why don't you take care of it yourself?" he snaps.

His friend flinches slightly before regaining control of his features. "Now you're the one being insane. I couldn't possibly. You know that."

Cullen does know that. He also knows that the comment was a low blow. Dorian deserves better, even though he's smashing Cullen into a million little pieces.

"The Iron Bull, then?" he says. "He wouldn't mind. Or Blackwall. Blackwall would be happy to... to do it, I'm sure."

"Without a doubt. But she isn't attracted to Blackwall."

"How do you know?"

"She's told me as much."

"You've discussed this with her?"

"We've discussed the male population of Skyhold many times, but not this per se." Dorian waves his hand in the air between them. "She wouldn't agree to it if she knew it was my idea. She wouldn't think it real if she felt I'd set the whole thing up."

"She's right. It wouldn't be real."

"It would for you", Dorian says.

Something inside of Cullen finally breaks. "What if it would?" he almost shouts. "You worry about her heart. What about my heart?"

"I know you were in love with her." There is no laughter in Dorian's voice, only compassion.

"I was. And she in me, before he got to her with all his nonsense about magic and the fade and ancient gods. She asked me once if her Dalish heritage was ever going to be a problem for me. I said no, of course not. Ironically it became a problem for her. She said she wanted to be with someone who could fully understand her. Someone who could see her. All of her. She said I couldn't. Becuase I wasn't Dalish. I wasn't Elven." He runs his fingers through his hair and starts pacing back and forth through the room again. "And he was a mage. Is a mage. Of course he's a mage. Mages will be my undoing."

Dorian's smile is sad. "I'm happy to hear that. I'm a mage too, you know."

"I know, and I've never missed the Order so terribly."

"She's not a mage."

"No, she's not. That's probably why I loved her, at least in part. I thought that would be enough, but I knew all along it was too good to be true."

Dorian rises from his chair, suddenly determined. "And if she could love you again? Wouldn't it be worth the risk?"

"It this what... what has she told you?"

"I'm not at liberty to say. But as much as I care for you, Cullen, I'm not suggesting this for you. I'm suggesting it for her. For her broken heart. I'm suggesting it for all of our fates. He must be stopped. At all costs. And you..."

"It'll destroy me. How can you ask this of me?"

"You're tough. You'll be alright."

"No", Cullen says. "I won't. I'll be broken. It would be the last of me. Don't you understand? There's only a small piece of me left."

Dorian walks towards him, slowly. He rests his hands on Cullen's shoulders and softly, tenderly, leans in to place a quick kiss on his forehead.

"Then put it to good use. Give her what she needs."

"And what exactly is that?"

"Solace", Dorian says.