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Cullen closed the door to the Inquisitor's quarters behind him as quietly as he could and leaned his back against it with a long relieved sigh. He finally managed to catch a break for the day, and it was already well into the night. A few weeks prior, he wouldn't have minded as much and would have actually sought out any task he could help with, urgent or not, but now that his mind was as free from cravings as it had ever been, the promise of sleep was more appealing than anything else. Especially on nights like this one, when he knew he wouldn't be alone once a nightmare inevitably woke him up.
Gathering the last of his strength, he bent down to take off his boots and left them next to the door. The men upstairs would undoubtedly wake up when he joined them inside the warm bed, but it was still better than being awoken from an oaf clanking up the stairs in plate boots. It was highly probable that the Inquisitor had actually already heard the door opening and closing thanks to his keen elven ears and hunter training, but a certain mage valued his sleep and could be quite cranky if woken up at odd hours. Admittedly, a sleepy Dorian was an adorable sight, but his cutting words could be less so if he was in a particularly bad mood. Cullen and Mahanon could both attest to that.
So he made his way up the stairs as quietly as he could, thanking the Maker that there was no one around to see his surely ridiculous posture on each step, elbows up and legs spread to avoid as much noise from his armour as he could. Before rushing to the Inquisitor's chambers, he had briefly considered going up to his own room to change and avoid this predictable situation, but he had feared seeing a bed would drain the last bit of energy he had left and he might have just given in and curled up there instead, regretting the absence of his lovers in the morning. Plus, he never slept in the Inquisitor's quarters without his armour close at hand, in case any emergency arose during the night or in the morning.
Once he was in view of the bedroom, he noticed without surprise that Mahanon was getting up from the bed to meet him up the stairs.
"Did I wake you up?" Cullen whispered. "I'm sorry it's so late..."
"It's alright, I wasn't sleeping very well." Mahanon grasped his face in his calloused hands and deposited a kiss on his lips. "I'd rather be able to greet you properly anyway," he smiled.
Cullen curled his arms around Mahanon's waist and pulled him closer to recapture his lips. "As much as I hate that sleep doesn't come easily to you either, I can't say I'm not glad to receive such a greeting after a long day."
That was an understatement. Just the sight of the gentle elf was always a great comfort to him, but actually having Mahanon in his arms was still a wonder to Cullen, one that had the power to magic his exhaustion away for a moment.
Until a groan from the bed interrupted them.
"I'm cold, come back here..." Dorian whined, and from the sound of it, he was patting the mattress behind him in search of Mahanon.
The Inquisitor pulled back with a low chuckle and disentangled himself from Cullen to walk back towards the bed. "I'll be with you in a minute, love," he reassured the mage as he bent down to kiss his cheek. "Cullen is here."
"How generous of the Commander to finally grace us with his presence," came the reply that still managed to sound pompous even though it was thick with sleep.
"Go back to sleep, you grump," Mahanon chided fondly while smoothing his fingers through Dorian's dark hair. "We'll join you soon."
Cullen padded further into the room towards the couch and started taking his armour off. The Inquisitor was next to him a moment later to help him in this tedious task after dropping Cullen's night clothes on the couch.
"How are you feeling?" Mahanon eventually asked in a worried murmur as they made eye contact half-way through.
Cullen managed a small but sincere smile. "Overall, I don't think I have ever felt so good in my life. Being mostly rid of my lyrium cravings allows me to think so much more clearly. Yet, right now, it's a blessing and a curse."
"I can relate to that," Mahanon agreed as he stacked another piece of armour on the couch. "It's difficult sometimes to stop your thoughts from wandering into unwanted territory or going in circles, especially with all that we're currently going through... If you need to talk about anything, Dorian and I will always gladly listen."
"I know. Thank you, truly. It's just... I'm just worried about Samson, I suppose. Well, not as much about him as about what he represents. I'm disappointed in him, and yet, I can't help thinking that..." Cullen paused as he felt his voice breaking and hid his eyes in one hand. It was definitely not the right time to have this conversation, but now that he had started voicing it, he found that he couldn’t stop. "It could have been me, you know? In Samson's place. I know for a fact that he helped mages in Kirkwall, yet he still ended up as the leader of the Red Templars. I would have been so much worse than him, had Corypheus come to me..."
"Cullen, no," Mahanon interrupted, slowly prying Cullen's hand from his eyes and grabbing his face again to force the Commander's eyes back on his. "I do not believe it for one second. You have too much of a gentle soul, despite all you have been through. You told us you agreed with Meredith when you were in Kirkwall, but that you still questioned her in your heart. You would never have agreed to anything that pathetic darkspawn could have offered you, I am certain of that."
"You are way too forgiving," Cullen remarked with a wry smile. Something he had constantly witnessed ever since meeting the elf, that he didn't always agree with but respected deeply and made Mahanon the perfect Inquisitor they could have hoped for. But when it was turned towards him, it seemed especially wrong. Although Mahanon had heard from Cullen what laid in his past, they had just been words. Words were too restrictive to do proper justice to a situation and were more easily dismissed than actual memories. The fact that even Dorian, a proud mage, had been willing to forgive him for his past was a testament to that.
"And you are too hard on yourself, vhenan. What matters is what you are doing now, never forget that. It’s very easy to get lost in what could have been, but in the end, it’s just a waste of energy. The past is in the past. We may only use it to strive to be better. Dwelling on it creates people like Corypheus."
Cullen sighed and closed his eyes wearily. "You're right. I know. I'm sorry..."
"It's alright," Mahanon reassured him with a kiss. "I prefer having you talking to us about it than letting it spiral uncontrollably inside your head. It happens to us all. Just don't forget you are not alone."
Cullen's small smile was a lot more heartfelt this time. "Thank you," he whispered warmly. The voice in his head reminded him that he did not deserve these two men in his life, but he knew better than to vocalise it. These particular words had come from each of them quite a few times since the beginning of their relationship, and it had always been quite strongly rebuffed, by him included. And he was starting to trust these two men more than his own insidious thoughts.
"Good. Now, finish changing quickly and come to bed. You will feel better once you have slept."
With that, the Inquisitor walked back to Dorian's side of the bed. As Cullen went back to undressing, he watched as Mahanon carefully lifted the sheets and brought his lips down on Dorian's forehead.
"Move over, love. I'll take this side," Mahanon asked softly while pushing at Dorian's hips to help the mage understand his point.
Cullen's smile widened fondly as the only reply was another groan, followed by Dorian's arm grabbing Mahanon around the neck to pin him in place.
The elf chuckled despite his awkward position. "I know, Dorian. But if you want to be warm again, you need to roll over so that I can actually get inside the bed."
"Always giving orders..." Dorian grumbled. Yet, he obeyed and Mahanon was able to settle back under the covers.
Cullen hurried into his night clothes, driven both by the cold air of the night and by the prospect of a bed warmed by his lovers. When Cullen joined them, Mahanon was peppering Dorian's neck with kisses while one of his hands was running slow and smoothing circles on his back.
"Finally," Dorian grumbled once Cullen was settled on his side facing the mage. "Now, please stop lifting the covers, it's freezing out there..."
Cullen cupped his cheek with one hand and leaned in to deposit a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Plus a few more directly on his lips when he felt Dorian respond.
"I apologise for waking you up," Cullen tried to cajole him. Even though his conversation with Mahanon had been hushed, it had probably been enough of a distracting noise to keep Dorian from truly going back to sleep. Cullen was certain he had heard it all.
Dorian's eyes fluttered open for a few seconds, then he sighed with a smile and snaked a hand around Cullen's back to pull him closer and rest their foreheads together.
"All is forgiven, you silly gorgeous man."
Cullen scoffed with a smile. Mahanon was watching him with an adoring smile of his own, and Cullen couldn't help wondering once more what he did to deserve these two amazing men. "I love you both so much," he voiced with as much sincerity as he could muster in his exhausted state. "Thank you." He pressed ever closer to Dorian, tucking him under his chin, and put an arm over the mage's waist so that his hand rested on Mahanon's side.
"I love you too, Cullen," the elf replied without a moment's hesitation.
"Tell me again in the morning," was Dorian's slurred mumble, eliciting small chuckles from his partners.
Cullen eventually sighed and tried to pull his men even closer. Sleep was blissfully gaining him now that he was comfortably where he had wanted to be all day, but his thoughts were still a loud enough disruptive echo in his head. "I hate this damned false god... I hate fearing for your lives every day... The sooner we find a way to kill him, the better."
"We all agree on that. And there's no one I'd rather have on my side than all of you," Mahanon replied with affection.
"You are both such saps..." Despite his words, Dorian's arm was clutching at Cullen just as tightly, and the mage kissed him above his heart. "Before all that, we need our beauty sleep," he insisted.
Cullen kissed the top of Dorian’s head and Mahanon stretched to meet Cullen halfway when he leaned toward the elf for a peck on the lips, which Mahanon followed by one last kiss on Dorian's neck before settling back on his pillow.
Cullen maintained eye contact with Mahanon, trying to convey everything he was feeling, and gently caressed his side in a repetitive pattern until Mahanon's eyes started drooping shut.
They would win. There was no other alternative to think about. They would put an end to the pretentious Magister-darkspawn bastard, all of them would survive, and they would endeavour to right the wrongs in the world. Because if anyone had a chance to take on this tremendous task, it was these people. And Maker willing, he would stand by their side through it all.