A Candle in the Darkness (A Dragon Age: Inquisition fanfiction)

Orphans of the Inquisition

17 Justinian, 9:41

Morning found Cullen determined not to give way to his fears like that again—at least, not in Antonia's presence, certainly. She had enough to worry about without having to talk him back to strength and sanity in the middle of the night.

He left her sleeping, not without a backward glance at her lovely face. The temptation to rejoin her in the bed was strong, just to lie there and hold her for as long as he could ... but the fears and the shadows within him wouldn't let him lie there quietly. He needed to hit something.

The Iron Bull was already in the training ring as Cullen came out of the keep. He smiled at the big Qunari as he came closer. "How did you know?"

"That the closer we get to Corypheus the more you need something to fight? That one's not hard."

"No, I suppose not." He hesitated for a moment, and the Iron Bull's one eye scrutinized him closely.

"We fighting or talking this morning?"

"Let's start with fighting." Maybe once he was thoroughly worn out he could put his thoughts into words that would make sense.

The Iron Bull set himself, shield up, and Cullen attacked with all his strength. After an hour, he still hadn't managed to budge the Iron Bull more than a couple of inches, and those had been hard-won. The Qunari looked at him with respect, nonetheless. "Not many people can push me around, even a little. You feeling better?"

"Some."

"Good. Let's go get an ale."

For once, Cullen didn't worry about the thousand things he had to do. Corypheus was coming, which made any work other than training the Inquisitor seem almost unnecessary—and certainly impossible to concentrate on. "Good idea."

They took their ales to the Iron Bull's room, which was surprisingly neat. "You should have been a Templar," Cullen said, looking around.

The Iron Bull gave a half-smile. "Ben-Hassrath. You keep your things put away or you reveal entirely too much about yourself. Besides ..." The smile widened. "It gives Dorian something to do."

Cullen narrowed his eyes. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the details of their relationship, and the almost challenging look on the Iron Bull's face confirmed him in that suspicion. "You two are very special to Antonia."

"Mutual. She's done a lot of good work for a lot of people. Us included."

"She worries about you; less so than before you got together." Cullen found the whole experience of sitting here discussing relationships with a Qunari mercenary odd, but decidedly pleasant. For one of the first times in his life, he felt normal.

"Yeah, that took some time. Not that you have any room to talk." The Qunari fixed him with a look from that single eye.

"No. But you two are ... Well, I wouldn't pry, but—" He couldn't quite explain why he wanted to know.

"We're fine. If he insists on going to Tevinter and telling that elf story, the Chargers and I will go with him, whatever it takes, but I hope he won't. Tell the boss if she can keep him here ... Well, that's a problem for another day, isn't it?"

"I tend to forget that Dorian is a man without a country, so to speak."

The Iron Bull chuckled. "The orphans of the Inquisition. He's left Tevinter, I've left the Qun, you've left the Templars, Cassandra's left the Seekers, Varric's left the dwarves ... Cole's left the spirit world." He gave an exaggerated shudder. "Still not used to that guy. Blackwall's left the Wardens, or the Orlesian army, however you want to put that. Solas—that elf has left something, but what, it's hard to say. Sera's left her sanity, Leliana herself, Josephine her fancy parties. Vivienne's the only one with something to go home to."

Cullen frowned. "I suppose I hadn't thought of it that way. How do you feel about leaving the Qun?"

"How do you feel about leaving the Templars?" The Iron Bull shrugged. "I did it on purpose; the Chargers mattered to me more than the Ben-Hassrath, in the end. Doesn't mean I don't miss it, sometimes, that certainty of knowing who I was and what my role was. Don't you find that?"

"Yes." Cullen nodded. "There was a comfort in the sameness of the days, the rituals involved, the knowledge that we were doing what was right. But ... we weren't, either, and so the comfort was illusory."

"I guess I get that. Yeah."

"This is better; more to do, more ... challenges."

"So you don't regret it?"

"Leaving the Templars? No. Do you?"

The Qunari grunted. "It's hard to give up a lifetime of thinking one way and learn to think another—to put people above place, emotion and thought above duty. But—" He looked down into his empty mug. "I look at Dorian, at everything he's capable of, not just with magic but his intelligence and his drive, and I know what my people would do to him, chaining him up and forcing him to be only one of the things he is, and I wonder—is that what we do to everyone, forcing them into one box, telling them to be only one thing? I mean, I'm good at hitting things, and I like it, yeah, but I'm good at people, too, knowing what they need and what they're thinking. The Ben-Hassrath allowed me to use both of those things, but in Par Vollen it wouldn't have been that way so much. So ... no. I don't regret it. I'd rather be here than part of the Qun."

"I'm glad to hear it. We'd rather have you here, too." Cullen smiled at his friend.

"And for what it's worth ... we haven't made a pact, or anything, but—you can count on us. Whoever's with her against Corypheus ... the boss is the top priority. We'll bring her back if there's any chance at all. No matter what it costs." The Iron Bull's eye was directly on Cullen's now, and there was no mistaking his sincerity or his determination.

"Thank you, Bull. It means ... everything."