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tellmevarricTitle: Mistaken Identity - Part 2
Fandom: Dragon Age
Pairing(s): Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford
Rating: PG
Warnings: N/A
Summary: The Empress has been saved and the night is won. Cullen now waits for the axe to fall. Read Part 1 here.
It was done. Empress Celene had been saved, Gaspard was awaiting the headman’s axe, Florianne was awaiting judgement and Briala and Celene had been reconciled. The ball had taken on a distinctly party air in relief and celebration at all that had been accomplished and more food and wine had been brought out to help with that.
Cullen slipped away from the growing party and walked out onto one of the balconies, closing the doors behind him. He’d seen Bull heading for the balcony the Inquisitor had claimed and knew that there would be no need for him to keep up appearances in the ballroom any longer. He leaned against the balustrade and looked down into the palace gardens, his shoulders slumping as he finally relaxed.
Physically at least. The muscles along his shoulders and back might be finally unknotting themselves now that he was away from the pressure of the court but his mind was in turmoil over what had happened earlier with Dorian. He didn’t know what had possessed him to play along with Lady DeVere’s mistaken assumption that Dorian was his husband. Sheer desperation maybe, mixed in with a lot of wishful thinking seemed the most likely reason. And then Dorian had played along!
He sighed and slumped down a little further. Of course Dorian had played along. Cullen was sure he’d looked like a startled deer, completely and utterly out of his depth. Dorian had played along to help him out because underneath all his bluster, Dorian was a genuinely decent person who helped his friends and didn’t leave them floundering helplessly in the mire. The things he thought he’d seen in Dorian’s eyes before Adaar called him away… they couldn’t possibly have been real. They could only have been his imagination, him projecting what he wanted onto Dorian.
And oh, how he wanted Dorian. He’d tried to deny it but ever since the man had stumbled into his arms outside of Haven, he’d felt drawn to Dorian and it had only gotten stronger at Skyhold. He’d done his best to ignore it. He’d had bad experiences with mages. Not romantically but in practically every other way. He hadn’t been able to see how he could ever be with a mage, how he could trust one that close, with his mind, his body, his heart. But Dorian…
Dorian had just sauntered through his reserve and his worries and his doubts and taken up residence in his heart without ever knowing what he was doing. Cullen could see himself trusting Dorian with everything, could picture placing himself in Dorian’s hands and never fearing that the mage would hurt him or use him. Perhaps he was being overly romantic, perhaps he was seeing things in Dorian that weren’t there but he didn’t think he was wrong.
“Cullen?”
Cullen gave a yelp and turned to see Dorian standing near the doors to the balcony with a very neutral expression on his face. He’d clearly just closed the doors again but Cullen hadn’t even heard them open, so deep in his thoughts he’d been.
“Dorian,” he said hoarsely then he swallowed and licked his lips. This was it. This was the moment when Dorian berated him for putting him on the spot like that earlier.
“Did you...”
To Cullen’s surprise, a look of uncertainty and doubt washed over Dorian’s face and the mage looked down and to the side. He drew in a breath then raised his head and squared his shoulders like he was going into battle.
“Kaffas!” Dorian muttered before closing the distance between them in a few strides. He pushed Cullen back against the balustrade and kissed him.
Cullen made a startled noise then he clutched at Dorian, pulling him even closer as he closed his eyes and returned the kiss with everything he had. He didn’t know what was happening but Dorian was kissing him and even if this ended in a punch or a spell or something else horrible, he wanted to be able to remember this as being utterly perfect.
By the time they were forced to end the kiss in order to simply breathe, Cullen was rock-hard and from what he could feel against his hip, so too was Dorian. He ignored that though and rested his forehead against Dorian’s, his hands still clenched in the material of the mage’s impeccable jacket. He knew he was crumpling the material but he didn’t want to let go, afraid that if he did, Dorian would disappear.
But his mind couldn’t leave this alone and before he could stop himself, he found himself asking, “What is this?”
Dorian gave a soft huff of a laugh. “You tell me... husband.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. He could almost feel Dorian start to withdraw mentally and emotionally and he wrapped his arms around the mage and drew him tight against his body. “No! Not that! They were... so relentless and I didn’t know how to get them to stop and when Lady DeVere called you my husband, I grabbed at it. Partly to make them go away but mostly because I...” He faltered then but he looked at Dorian and saw the doubt and fear in his eyes and forced himself to finish the sentence. “...I wanted it to be true.”
Wonder and hope and something he thought might be joy replaced the doubt and fear in Dorian’s eyes and the mage smiled at him in a way he’d never seen before. It was soft and sweet and melancholy.
“You do?” Dorian asked and there was a faint thread of disbelief in the question that Cullen suspected had less to do with him and more to do with Dorian’s past.
“I do,” he said firmly then he blushed and chuckled.
Dorian frowned at him then realised what he’d just said and smiled. This one was much closer to his normal smile. “Aren’t we supposed to be standing in front of a Chantry priest when you say that?”
“I’d like that,” Cullen said before he could second-guess himself. He blushed. “I mean, not now but maybe... someday?” He hurried on before he could blush enough to spontaneously self-combust. “But I... I’d like to court you first? If you’d allow that?”
Dorian had been chuckling softly at his blush but he stopped at that last bit and stared at Cullen in wonder. “I’ve never been courted before,” he admitted hesitantly, though there was a plaintive hope in his eyes that made Cullen’s heart ache. “In Tevinter, anything between two men is... superficial. A bit of pleasure, nothing more. Anything more would be a scandal.”
Suddenly the reason for Dorian’s doubt and uncertainly became plain. He’d accepted the superficial because he’d thought that was all he could have but he wanted the more. Wanted it more than anything.
“We’re not in Tevinter and I would very much like to court you,” Cullen said firmly enough to make Dorian blush.
“The things you say,” the mage said with a melancholy whimsy that made Cullen swallow against the sudden lump in his throat.
He stepped away from Dorian then bowed and held one hand out. “May I have this dance, Dorian?”
Dorian’s lips curved in a smile and his face was alight with happiness as he replied. “I would be delighted.”
Read Part 3 here. Note: Part 3 is rated Explicit
Fandom: Dragon Age
Pairing(s): Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford
Rating: PG
Warnings: N/A
Summary: The Empress has been saved and the night is won. Cullen now waits for the axe to fall. Read Part 1 here.
It was done. Empress Celene had been saved, Gaspard was awaiting the headman’s axe, Florianne was awaiting judgement and Briala and Celene had been reconciled. The ball had taken on a distinctly party air in relief and celebration at all that had been accomplished and more food and wine had been brought out to help with that.
Cullen slipped away from the growing party and walked out onto one of the balconies, closing the doors behind him. He’d seen Bull heading for the balcony the Inquisitor had claimed and knew that there would be no need for him to keep up appearances in the ballroom any longer. He leaned against the balustrade and looked down into the palace gardens, his shoulders slumping as he finally relaxed.
Physically at least. The muscles along his shoulders and back might be finally unknotting themselves now that he was away from the pressure of the court but his mind was in turmoil over what had happened earlier with Dorian. He didn’t know what had possessed him to play along with Lady DeVere’s mistaken assumption that Dorian was his husband. Sheer desperation maybe, mixed in with a lot of wishful thinking seemed the most likely reason. And then Dorian had played along!
He sighed and slumped down a little further. Of course Dorian had played along. Cullen was sure he’d looked like a startled deer, completely and utterly out of his depth. Dorian had played along to help him out because underneath all his bluster, Dorian was a genuinely decent person who helped his friends and didn’t leave them floundering helplessly in the mire. The things he thought he’d seen in Dorian’s eyes before Adaar called him away… they couldn’t possibly have been real. They could only have been his imagination, him projecting what he wanted onto Dorian.
And oh, how he wanted Dorian. He’d tried to deny it but ever since the man had stumbled into his arms outside of Haven, he’d felt drawn to Dorian and it had only gotten stronger at Skyhold. He’d done his best to ignore it. He’d had bad experiences with mages. Not romantically but in practically every other way. He hadn’t been able to see how he could ever be with a mage, how he could trust one that close, with his mind, his body, his heart. But Dorian…
Dorian had just sauntered through his reserve and his worries and his doubts and taken up residence in his heart without ever knowing what he was doing. Cullen could see himself trusting Dorian with everything, could picture placing himself in Dorian’s hands and never fearing that the mage would hurt him or use him. Perhaps he was being overly romantic, perhaps he was seeing things in Dorian that weren’t there but he didn’t think he was wrong.
“Cullen?”
Cullen gave a yelp and turned to see Dorian standing near the doors to the balcony with a very neutral expression on his face. He’d clearly just closed the doors again but Cullen hadn’t even heard them open, so deep in his thoughts he’d been.
“Dorian,” he said hoarsely then he swallowed and licked his lips. This was it. This was the moment when Dorian berated him for putting him on the spot like that earlier.
“Did you...”
To Cullen’s surprise, a look of uncertainty and doubt washed over Dorian’s face and the mage looked down and to the side. He drew in a breath then raised his head and squared his shoulders like he was going into battle.
“Kaffas!” Dorian muttered before closing the distance between them in a few strides. He pushed Cullen back against the balustrade and kissed him.
Cullen made a startled noise then he clutched at Dorian, pulling him even closer as he closed his eyes and returned the kiss with everything he had. He didn’t know what was happening but Dorian was kissing him and even if this ended in a punch or a spell or something else horrible, he wanted to be able to remember this as being utterly perfect.
By the time they were forced to end the kiss in order to simply breathe, Cullen was rock-hard and from what he could feel against his hip, so too was Dorian. He ignored that though and rested his forehead against Dorian’s, his hands still clenched in the material of the mage’s impeccable jacket. He knew he was crumpling the material but he didn’t want to let go, afraid that if he did, Dorian would disappear.
But his mind couldn’t leave this alone and before he could stop himself, he found himself asking, “What is this?”
Dorian gave a soft huff of a laugh. “You tell me... husband.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. He could almost feel Dorian start to withdraw mentally and emotionally and he wrapped his arms around the mage and drew him tight against his body. “No! Not that! They were... so relentless and I didn’t know how to get them to stop and when Lady DeVere called you my husband, I grabbed at it. Partly to make them go away but mostly because I...” He faltered then but he looked at Dorian and saw the doubt and fear in his eyes and forced himself to finish the sentence. “...I wanted it to be true.”
Wonder and hope and something he thought might be joy replaced the doubt and fear in Dorian’s eyes and the mage smiled at him in a way he’d never seen before. It was soft and sweet and melancholy.
“You do?” Dorian asked and there was a faint thread of disbelief in the question that Cullen suspected had less to do with him and more to do with Dorian’s past.
“I do,” he said firmly then he blushed and chuckled.
Dorian frowned at him then realised what he’d just said and smiled. This one was much closer to his normal smile. “Aren’t we supposed to be standing in front of a Chantry priest when you say that?”
“I’d like that,” Cullen said before he could second-guess himself. He blushed. “I mean, not now but maybe... someday?” He hurried on before he could blush enough to spontaneously self-combust. “But I... I’d like to court you first? If you’d allow that?”
Dorian had been chuckling softly at his blush but he stopped at that last bit and stared at Cullen in wonder. “I’ve never been courted before,” he admitted hesitantly, though there was a plaintive hope in his eyes that made Cullen’s heart ache. “In Tevinter, anything between two men is... superficial. A bit of pleasure, nothing more. Anything more would be a scandal.”
Suddenly the reason for Dorian’s doubt and uncertainly became plain. He’d accepted the superficial because he’d thought that was all he could have but he wanted the more. Wanted it more than anything.
“We’re not in Tevinter and I would very much like to court you,” Cullen said firmly enough to make Dorian blush.
“The things you say,” the mage said with a melancholy whimsy that made Cullen swallow against the sudden lump in his throat.
He stepped away from Dorian then bowed and held one hand out. “May I have this dance, Dorian?”
Dorian’s lips curved in a smile and his face was alight with happiness as he replied. “I would be delighted.”
Read Part 3 here. Note: Part 3 is rated Explicit
