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Darkness had been a constant in Dorian’s life for as far back as he could remember. Even now, in his adult life, he was still plagued by nightmares of his old life in Tevinter, the dreams at night made worse by the events he had seen and been a part of with the inquisition. No matter how many months passed between what happened in Redcliffe it was more often than not that when he closed his eyes at night he would see red—a dark future that had happened, but at the same time had not.
It was that same dream that had pulled Dorian from his slumber, startled, but not leaving him frightened as it had done in the past. It had been getting easier as time went on to convince himself that it wasn’t real, that whatever he had been subjected to in his dreams were only figments of the Fade. It took him a moment to recognize where he was, eyes scanning the ceiling until he found the familiar hole that allowed starlight to spill in. Beneath him, the mattress was soft, blankets surrounding him reminding him he was in Skyhold. At least there was some comfort in Dorian’s life.
He turned his head slowly, eyes still heavy as he took in the sight of his lover. Cullen lay fast asleep next to him, undisturbed by Dorian’s dream. It was surprising, considering he knew that Cullen was not safe from the nightmares either. He had witnessed them, had consoled him through them, but as if there was an unspoken rule between them, they dared not ask what plagued each other at night.
Instead, they were content to hold one another, the comfort of each other’s arms and bodies enough to stem the pain. At first, for Dorian, it had been a fling, a dare to himself that he could chip away at the mighty walls the Commander had put up around himself. But civil allies turned into a friendship, and as Dorian learned more and more about Cullen, the more he hesitated to pursue any form of intimate relationship.
Before he could even recognize what was happening, he found himself in love, a fling the last thing on his mind. Dorian had to wonder if Cullen knew what was happening either. If he were to give his heart to this man, it would be for the long run. How simple it seemed now, friends turning into lovers, but it had not been an easy transition.
He wondered when he had fallen so hard—when he had allowed himself to become so vulnerable. The Inquisition was never meant to be anything long-term, and yet the prospect of leaving when, and if, this war was over left Dorian conflicted. There was nothing for him in Tevinter, not now. Yes, the Inquisitor had helped him reconcile with his father, but that bridge had been burned, so to speak.
Here, right now, he felt that he had the whole world ahead of him, that he was so lucky to have such a man to love and to love him in return. It was something out of those awfully written fairytales that he had read as a child; his heart became aflutter when he looked at Cullen and the world around him fell away. Cheesy, yes, and Varric would never believe him when he said it was like looking at the sun for the first time. In intimate moments like this, in the quiet and calm of night, nothing else really mattered.
To think his life could have led him down a different path, one that didn’t allow for him to feel so happy. Dorian shook the doubt and ‘what-ifs’ from his head. Instead, he reached out with his free hand, pushing his fingers along Cullen’s temple. A few golden curls had come free, and no matter how many times Dorian tried to push them back into place they sprung free. Not that he minded; there was something satisfying about seeing the Commander with a little bit of bed-head.
“C-crumb cake.”
Dorian had to bite his lip hard to stifle his laughter—this was another thing he was still getting used to when he came to sharing Cullen’s bed. The man talked in his sleep, giving a clear view of what was on his mind. Dorian ghosted his fingers from his temple to his cheek, running a thumb over the space under his eye.
“Cake?” He whispered back, wondering if he’d get a response. Some nights, he could carry a small conversation, and Cullen wouldn’t remember a lick of it come morning. It was something special just for him. “What kind of cake?”
“Lettuce…boots.” Cullen mumbled next and Dorian couldn’t help but chuckle, needing to slap his free hand over his mouth. Cullen’s body shifted slightly, his head turning in Dorian’s direction. He calmed himself, reaching back to hold his lover’s face.
“Lettuce boot crumb cake.” He clarified. “Right. Delicious.”
“You’re…delicious.” Cullen responded, before a loud snore echoed from his throat. Dorian felt his heart warm at the words and took a moment to lock the memory away for later. Already he knew he’d be able to tease the man relentlessly for saying it.
“Do you have anything else to say for yourself?” Dorian whispered, trailing his fingers to brush along his jaw and chin. He was very tempted to close the distance, to kiss him, but knew that would only lead to activities that would leave them more sleep deprived than they already were. Cullen didn’t respond with anything other than soft snores, so Dorian was content simply watching him for a few moments longer.
In the quiet his eyes started to droop and the hand propping his head up started to slip. Dorian caught himself a few times, blinking the tiredness from his eyes before realizing he had stirred Cullen awake. He stretched a little, arching his back and shifting his legs across the bed. Dorian watched, waiting for him to wake up.
“Mmm…Dorian?” Cullen didn’t even bother peeking open his eyes, only raising an eyebrow as he shifted beneath the covers. Dorian laughed under his breath, reaching out with his free hand to rest his palm against Cullen’s chest. He would be denied seeing those amber eyes until morning, but it was easy enough for him to imagine their shine, even in the darkness.
“Amatus, I’m here.” He softly spoke, sighing at the small smile that curled Cullen’s lips upwards. His arms shifted, reaching out for Dorian, one hand curling around his back as he pulled him to lie back down. Finally Dorian relented, stretching himself alongside his lover. “Festis bel umo canavarum.” Death, maybe; but a good death caused by how fast his heart continued to race.
He rested his head in the crux of Cullen’s shoulder, sighing as protective arms wrapped around his torso. It didn’t take long for the Commander to fall back into his slumber, the steady sound of his heartbeat echoing in Dorian’s ear. He was content; more than he could ever dream to be. Out of all the people in the world, the odds had finally tipped in his favor and he had found the light.