Dragon Age Inquisition

Cullen x Dorian

SFW

WC: 1753



A prompt from ashestodustdusttoashes: Introducing Dorian to Mia

“Do you remember what I said about your tower?” Dorian’s teeth chattered in the mist despite his extra layers. Cullen blew a laugh through his nose.

“I believe your exact words were, ‘A demon’s arsehole is warmer than this.’” He smiled at the man riding next to him. Dorian glared.

“I would like to…revise that statement,” he admitted with a scowl. Cullen laughed, bent over the saddle. His cheeks flushed red from the chill and the humor he found from Dorian’s discomfort. Cullen seemed barely phased by the wet cold that prevailed in the countryside.

“We’re almost there,” the commander reined in his horse, slowing to a stop. “then we can get you warm.” Why did Dorian let Cullen drag him to these freezing reaches of Thedas? Probably because he knew Cullen would heat him up later. He couldn’t sleep without holding Dorian close, breathing in the smell of old books and wine that hung around his lover. Of course, Dorian loved it. He would finally be warm under homespun blankets and with Cullen wrapped around him. His feet remained neglected, his poor, frozen toes.

“That could never happen here but I appreciate the attitude,” Dorian leaned to place a gentle kiss on Cullen’s cheek. He turned his head just in time to capture Dorian’s lips, to tease some warmth back into his lover. Dorian practically growled into Cullen’s mouth as he finally had some feeling returned to his lips. The wind had bitten both of their lips red and chapped but, together, the cold disappeared. The attempt at rain that had chilled Dorian to the bone faded as Cullen pressed forward, ran his tongue over the mage’s lips. Before he could reciprocate, Cullen pulled away.

“Come on.” He smirked, one corner of his lips raising and pulling at his scar, as he spurred his horse forward. With angry reluctance, Dorian followed, sorry for the lingering taste of Cullen on his lips and the absence of his heat. He cursed the cold again but continued on without complaint.

After riding for hours, Dorian still had no idea where he was going. Cullen grew more and more nervous as they rode, however. His full-body laugh that shook up the horses morphed into a self-conscious chuckle that puffed forward. Dorian stopped talking altogether as quaint homes sprouted closer and closer together. Cullen sat straighter, looked around with more authority than he had the whole ride. He focused on the road, but Dorian saw the nerves, he saw the twitch in Cullen’s jaw that revealed the tension he held. The road turned from slogging mud to wet cobbles as a small town opened around them. Buildings with shops on the first floors and living quarters on the rest made up the bulk of the hamlet.

“So…this is it?” Dorian looked to Cullen as they passed under the gates.

“This was home.” There was a bit of nostalgia, happiness, wistfulness in his voice. Cullen somehow pulled himself higher in his saddle as he led Dorian to the smithy who had agreed to shelter their horses.

“It’s…cute.” Dorian meant it. The little place was cute, like puppies and kittens are cute. He wanted to put it in his pocket. Even the cobbles that made up the street were adorable. Dorian swung down, feet sure against the slick stones. Cullen took the reins of both horses.

“I know it isn’t much but…” Cullen couldn’t help but look around. His town had changed drastically, but it still felt like home. It was bigger, there were more shops, more families. The golem in the middle of the town was missing. But the tailor shop was still where he left it. Mia should be there, angry about the lack of letters she had received in the past ten years. A few drunken strains of “Andraste’s Mabari” streamed from the tavern across the square.

Cullen, more or less, meandered his way to stable the horses and hand over payment to a smithy who didn’t seem to recognize him. He hummed with the songs echoing from the drunks. He scuffed his feet against the ground as he walked. Dorian watched as he lifted his head to talk but only sighed heavily like the weight of the words he wanted to say were more than he could lift. They wandered in silent circles, never quite reaching the tailor.

“Mia is going to love you,” he finally said, more to reassure himself than Dorian. In the few letters he had written, Dorian only came up briefly. A mention of his determination or his wit, the way he thought he could beat Cullen at chess. Why didn’t he just say he loved him? It would have been so easy…easier than trying to tell everyone now.

“Then let’s go see her.” Dorian smiled, grabbed Cullen’s hand and squeezed. With a deep breath, Cullen marched to the tailor…to Mia’s door. His fist hesitated to knock. Dorian squeezed again and raised his own hand to knock. Together, always together.





Mia was surprised. Cullen hardly even wrote to her. That he was standing in the doorway of her shop was impossible. The light from thick tallow candle she carried lit the faces of the men smiling at her. There was a happiness hidden in Cullen’s eyes, behind worry and caution. He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand and gazed heavenward, just as he did when he was little. The other man stared at her, challenged her, but wasn’t menacing.

Her long arms, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, wrapped around Cullen’s shoulders. She remembered him smaller than her, less broad, less tired. But he was still her little brother; he seemed to shrink in her presence.

“It is so nice to see you again,” he whispered. She laughed.

“You can’t write but this you can do?” She pulled away from him, looked into his eyes with a gentle smile…and delivered a swift smack to the back of his head.

“That is for keeping me so bloody worried! Is it really so hard to write a letter?” Dorian started to laugh. Summoning her scariest glare, she stared past Cullen who rubbed his skull. Despite how funny he found in his lover being treated like a little brother, Dorian swallowed his humor as Mia’s eyes narrowed to slits.

“You didn’t send any letters either, Dorian.” Mia’s voice a hiss. Cullen’s eyes widened in terror.

“How do you even know who I am?” Dorian stepped forward, almost toe-to-toe with Mia. She had the same thick, blonde curls as Cullen that she kept bound in a braid that hung down her back; one spiral hung in her eyes and she kept puffing it away. Her eyes were darker than her brother’s, cooler, but framed with small, happy creases that belied her joyful nature. She could be a jovial person when not raging about correspondences. A few tense seconds passed between them before she wrapped him in her arms.

“Because you are the man who is making my brother happy,”she stated, the anger in her voice replaced by relief. Dorian looked over her shoulder at Cullen who could only stare with a raised eyebrow and a slack jaw. Cullen recalled the few sentences he had written about Dorian, the very few sentence he’d written at all. He was almost positive the words “love” and “Dorian” were never mentioned together. Letting go, she examined the pair and wrinkled her nose.

“Go upstairs and wash up.” She gave them each a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You both smell like horses and old cheese.” Mia nudged them through her shop to a door in the back that led to her home upstairs.

She left them on the second floor with a wash basin. A bed was tucked against the wall under a covered window. The dark was kept away by a roaring fire and more thick candles. Cullen and Dorian stood, flabbergasted, as Mia closed the door and creaked further up the stairs.

“That did not go how I expected.” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck.

“I like her.” Dorian said, the tone of excitement in his voice hard to disguise. He dipped his hands into the basin and found the water surprisingly warm. He splashed it onto his face.

“But I also can’t wait to beat her at chess.” Cullen laughed at Dorian’s confidence.

“I can’t wait to see you try.”





Mia offered no shortage of hot beverages, hearty stew, a dark and spicy bread. Everything was so warm. Dorian was sure this was paradise. Dorian curled against Cullen, a warm mug of tea pleasantly heating his fingers and a blanket tucked around his legs. Cullen’s arm wrapped around him. They both stared at the game on the table. Mia smirked, her fingers drumming across her knees. She puffed the curl out of her eyes. She sat with her back to the fire which gave her an orange halo. The candles lining the table deepened the shadows of determination on her face.

“I knew I could beat you…just like old times.” She leaned back on her palms with a smirk, all self-assured and cocky winner. Dorian laughed into his tea. He saw the trap, it was the same that Cullen used on him the first time they played.

“Shall I?” Cullen asked as he ran the back of his fingers across the open patch of Dorian’s sleeve. The mage’s laugh, musical and rich, wiped the smile from Mia’s face. Cullen smiled and moved the winning piece.

“It is so nice to be on this side for once.” Dorian sipped his tea in triumph. He felt Cullen’s chuckle rumble through his chest. Mia stared at the board, trying to work out what just happened.

“You little…” She wanted to leap across the table. Dorian kept laughing. Cullen simply shrugged.

“I have a lot of games to make up for, Sister.” Mia’s gaze shifted from her brother to the man at his side.

“We are playing again,”she demanded, “but Dorian is on my side this time.” Dorian arched a brow.

“Am I a good luck charm or are you offering a chance for revenge?”

“Revenge, of course.” Cullen laughed heartily at his sister’s propostion.

“To shut this man up…yes, of course.” Dorian stretched his legs and moved to sit next to Mia. The fire was warm against his back.

“Alright,” Cullen started to reset the board, “I think I can take you both.”

Cullen made good on his promise.