Work Text:
“People will notice the Inquisitor marrying her Commander in the middle of the Exalted Council,” she smiled mischievously.
“We know people who can keep things secret,” he said with a grin.
“Why does it have to be secret?”
That had been the question that led to a wedding with the inner circle. Cassandra was his best woman, Dorian was the Inquisitor’s man of honor. It was arranged quickly and quietly by Leliana and Josephine, who were both bridesmaids. Somehow, someone - he had a feeling it was Sera - had gotten his mabari, Bairn, to be the ringbearer.
“I swear to the Maker, I am his, and he is mine. From this day to the end of my days.”
“I swear to the Maker, I am hers, and she is mine. From this day to the end of my days.”
Their small party of guests cheered (Sera and Bull) and applauded (everyone else) as they kissed. The ceremony was short and sweet but it was the reception that the Inquisitor was looking forward to. Josephine had secured a small private dinner in a secluded chamber of the palace, and the room is full of happy chattering.
Dorian stands, tapping a knife against his wine glass to get everyone’s attention, and Cullen feels more than sees his wife cringe and sink into her chair. The Iron Bull gives Cullen a knowing smile as his lover begins a speech.
“Inquisitor, I’m just going to say what I have to say.” He gives her a melancholy look. “None of the amazing things that have happened to me in the last three years would’ve happened if it wasn’t for you.” His voice breaks on the last word. “You’re more like a sister to me than a friend.”
“I know what you mean,” the Inquisitor chuckles, her voice thick. “You’re like a sister to me too.”
Everyone chuckles as the altus screws his face up, trying unsuccessfully to not cry. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”
His voice devolves into indecipherable whimpering sobs and Bull guides him back to his seat. Cassandra stands from her seat by Varric and Thom.
“I have wished you both joy since you first came together, and I cannot express how happy I am to see you married at last.” She raises a glass in toast. “To your union, and the hope that you provide. May you always be satisfied.”
Everyone drinks to her toast, and the chatter resumes.
“I didn’t think Dorian would get so emotional,” Cullen whispers to his wife, who blushes.
“I knew. He gave me a sending crystal yesterday for when he returns to Tevinter,” she murmurs back, showing him the small gem on a cord around her neck.
The dinner ends and the next day, chaos breaks out when the qunari body is found.
As the qunari plot unfolds, Cullen’s stress shoots through the roof and not for the first time he fears for his wife’s life. When she returns with a black shriveled husk of an arm, he catches her as she collapses and carries her to a private room. She’s out cold when they bring in healers, but wakes up screaming when they have to amputate her arm. Cullen holds her close while she shrieks in agony, telling her she’ll be alright, that it’s okay, he’s right here beside her.
It seems to take forever for the bleeding to stop but it does and the wound is closed by magic courtesy of Dorian, who refused to leave her side until she was resting again. The magister had to cast a sleep spell once it was over, to stop her from charging out with intent to chase Solas. She sleeps for a day. When she wakes up her voice is hoarse and Cullen calls for water.
“I need to address the Exalted Council,” she whispers after a few sips.
He helps her get dressed and hands her the Rite from Divine Justinia. When they stand before the Council, she addresses them with a clear hard voice. The Inquisition is disbanded. But of course her work wasn’t over.
In the months following the Exalted Council, Cullen and his wife visit his family. Mia gives her a warm hug and drags the two of them into the house for a welcoming dinner. They find a house in Honnleath. She still meets with Leliana and Cassandra every so often, continuing the search for the Dread Wolf.
Then comes the day she tells him he’s going to be a father. He weeps. She takes a step back from her searching and focuses on the family the couple is building. She still struggles with the loss of her arm sometimes but she continues pushing on. She gives her husband a son and they marvel over the tiny boy.
“What should we call him?” Cullen whispers as the baby sleeps.
“Hear me out,” his wife starts. “Dorian Branson.”
“Dorian?”
“He’s like a brother to me and I thought both our brothers’ names would be fitting,” she says defensively.
“Why not Branson Dorian?”
“Dorian Branson just flows better, don’t you think?”
“Try explaining that to my brother,” he chuckles.
“So what do you say?”
“Dorian Branson Rutherford,” he tries out the name, then nods. “I like it.”
“Dorian will be over the moons,” she giggles.
She reaches into her shirt to pull out her sending crystal, whispering the password. A dull light pulses around it for a moment before a transparent image of the Magister is standing beside the bed.
“Hello dear sis- oh Maker, it’s so precious!” He coos, moving in close to look at their son. “Is it a boy or a girl?”
“He’s a boy,” she smiles tiredly. “You’ll love the name we chose.”
“Oooh, what’s that?”
“His name is Dorian Branson,” her voice is light but cautious, studying his reaction.
“I couldn’t possibly have heard you right,” he shakes his head. “I thought you said you named him Dorian.”
“You heard me right!”
Dorian just stares down at this tiny child and places a hand over his mouth. He straightens and lets out a sort of choked sob.
“You have a talent for making me cry, sister,” he sniffles. “I’ve never wanted to hug you more than I do right now.”
“Aw, Dorian, don’t cry!”
“I have to send him a gift, whatever you need I’ll get it for you, just name it!”
“That’s not necessary!”
“You can’t stop me from sending you toys and blankets and clothes and every little thing I think he will need, he’s only just been born and I would protect him with my life.” He’s hysterical.
“Dorian, calm down-“
“-just wait until I tell Bull, he won’t believe it! I’m so honored that you gave your first son my name, I don’t know-“
“DORIAN!”
“What?”
Little Dorian whines and fusses in her arms, and she bounces him gently with a hush. The magister covers his mouth again and chokes down another sob.
“You’re welcome to send us whatever you like, Dorian,” Cullen chuckles.
“Within reason!” She pokes her husband in the side.
“I have to go, but I will send you gifts soon! I love you both!”
“Love you too, Dorian,” she grins and his image flickers and disappears.
Cullen’s siblings arrive the next day, oohing and aahing over little Dorian. They’ve decided to nickname him Ian for ease of reference. Cullen’s brother is also touched by the namesake, his voice becoming strained but wasn’t moved to tears like Dorian was. Cullen’s nephew, Brandon, is 6 now and is excited when he sees little Ian. A month later, a large chest arrives in the village for the Rutherfords with a letter from Dorian.
Lady Rutherford,
As I said, nothing could stop me from showering little Dorian Branson in gifts. Enclosed are blankets, binkies, and clothes. I tried to contain myself when choosing the clothes but I couldn’t resist this tiny monkey onesie, it was too cute. Send for me soon, I’d love to see him in it!
Dorian
The blankets and clothes were the softest Cullen had ever felt, and he knew it must have cost a small fortune for the whole chest. His wife coos over the onesie, dressing little Ian in it and sending for her brother with the crystal to show him.
Two more years go by before they have a daughter, Amelia Evelynn. Ian is the sweetest brother to her, hugging her and kissing her and protecting her from Bairn’s incessant licking.
As the children grow, the search for Solas resurges and the Herald is torn between her family and the safety of Thedas. Reluctantly, Cullen urges her to go do what she does best; save the world.