Chapter Text
As she passes by Varric's favourite spot, Cordelia's heart twinges. He left only yesterday, but she misses him already. Kirkwall won't be quite the same without Hawke, he said, but it's still home. She gave him a hug. He extended invitations to visit whenever they want, even Solas, who was as sad to see Varric go as any of them.
Speaking of Solas, he lifts his head from the book he's reading when she enters the lowest floor of the rotunda. She raises a hand in greeting and offers him a small smile as she passes through to the stairs. She needs something new to read; hopefully Dorian can help her find something decent.
"Good morning, dearest," Dorian says from his reading nook, book in hand. He places a bookmark between the pages and sets it aside. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I need something new to read," she says, holding up the novel she completed most recently and wiggling it around.
"First off, you'll need to return that to Helisma." He rises from his armchair and straightens his robes. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you." Cordelia throws her hands up in self-defense and brings the book over to the librarian. "What are you in the mood for? Another magical adventure?" She scrunches up her nose and shakes her head.
"I was thinking something a little more mundane… cozy?"
Dorian purses his lips. "All right." He beckons her over to a shelf and they get to browsing.
"She changed everything." She nearly jumps out of her skin at Cole's sudden commentary. "He has not forgotten the dream."
She turns to look at the spirit boy with a frown. "…What?" His big hat shields his face from view, though she's learned that when he's reading someone, his expression is usually quite blank anyway.
"I love this game," Dorian says in a tone far too giddy for what Cole is relaying to her.
"Pointed comments and questions. Too drunk to filter herself. Too drunk to sense the pain of regret or the ache of love," he continues. "Her smile. Her hands on him. Is this forgiveness?" She shifts on her feet, her heart beating faster. If she's talking about who she thinks he is… "She is happy. I want for nothing else."
Dorian covers his mouth with one hand. "Oh, dear." She shoots him a glare. He raises his brows, waiting for her response.
"Why…" she swallows… "why are you telling me this?"
At this, Cole looks up and makes steady eye contact. "Losing him would break me. Almost as much as losing 'ma arlise would." Her breath catches. It's true. Of course, it's true—he's recalled her own thoughts. That doesn't mean it's a feeling she's fully acknowledged. She thought about it mainly in the days directly following his confession, about how he could have left her with no warning, no explanation. It would've broken her heart. Her heart was still broken, but in a different way.
Her frown deepens. "Cole…" She doesn't know what he expects from her, what his intentions are.
"He wants for nothing else," he reiterates, "but he would want you if you wanted him to." The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She reels back. Cole casts his gaze over her, brows slightly furrowed.
"Cullen and I are discussing marriage, Cole," she says, shaking her head. Whatever she and Solas had is over and done. It has been for over a year now. She loves Cullen more than anything. She doesn't need anything, anyone else. She certainly isn't going to leave him. Cole said himself that losing Cullen would break her. So what is the point of this?
Cole touches her arm. She flinches, but he does not retreat. "He would not steal you away," he says. He looks at her with an almost unsettling intensity. "Cullen is your hearth, the fire lit only for you, your home. To take you from that would be torture. Of this, he is certain. He does not want that for you." Tears prick in her eyes.
"I don't understand," she whispers. Does Solas still harbour feelings for her? He must. He remembers the dream. He thinks of how she does not love him—which is not true, she does love him, but she's not in love with him. Could she be? Could she love them both someday?
Cole's expression brightens, like she's on the right path, like he feels he has succeeded. "Your heart is big enough." It's the closest to a direct answer she's going to get from him.
"Thank you, Cole." The words come out strained, almost raw.
"You are welcome, Cordelia." He strolls off, where once he would have disappeared. She feels Dorian's attention on her, but she can't bear to look at his face, to see what judgement his expression might hold. She exhales heavily and steps toward the railing.
"So, that happened," Dorian says, coming to stand beside her.
Below, Solas is still at his desk. She wonders what he's reading. She could go ask. He would tell her. He always tells her, and he always indulges her questions, no matter how frivolous they might be. He's even more open now that she knows the truth. He doesn't hide behind a mask anymore, at least not with her, at least not that she can tell.
But does she feel how she used to? Could she feel more than how she used to? Does she want to? She's not sure.
Dorian speaks again when she says nothing: "Someone was going to say it eventually, I suppose." She quirks a brow and glances over at him.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean we all have eyes," he says and looks down at Solas, "and Solas looks at you like you've hung the moons in the sky." She blinks and shifts her weight from one foot to the other and back again. She and Solas have a dreaming session later… perhaps she can use it to investigate what she may or may not feel for him. "Let's get back to your book, shall we?"
Today, Solas instructs her to bring up a memory of the Dales, and he offers up more information about the Emerald Knights. He speaks of them without the filter he had when they were exploring the Emerald Graves months ago. More than that, though, his passion for their People… or, her People, at least, is evident. He cares. He didn't used to care. There is… wisdom in understanding, in putting yourself in someone else's shoes, imagining what led them to this point. She tells him as much.
He bows his head almost bashfully, and it strikes her just how blind she's been. His feelings for her are obvious. They're all over his face, written in his tone, and mapped in his body language.
"It is not the fault of the Dalish, nor the city elves, that they have forgotten," he says thoughtfully. "The fault belongs to me. I broke the Elvhen."
"You did not break them, break us. We are still here." She gestures to the memory around her. She would keep telling him so until it got through his bald head.
He hums in acknowledgement. "You once entertained the idea of teaching the Dalish the true old ways." One of their earliest conversations, on a walk outside Haven. "You told me that if I knew better, then I should share that knowledge."
"You did not agree with me."
"I was prideful and… somewhat temperamental." 'Was' is presumptuous, she thinks. He has not come so far as to renounce his pride entirely.
"The Dalish did not accept your knowledge in the past," she recalls, crouching down to pluck a stalk of felandaris from the ground. "You told me you'd grown tired of fighting."
"…As I said." She snorts and twirls the thorny stalk between her fingers.
"Are you saying you would now like to try again?"
"'If we don't keep trying, we'll never get it right', or so you astutely informed me," he says with a slow nod. She told him that the same night he told her of her vallaslin. Her lips twitch in to a small smile.
"Sometimes you quote me like I'm some wise ancient scholar," she says. She likes it though. She… well, shit, she likes him, doesn't she?
He tilts his head quizzically. "You are a scholar of sorts, and you are wise."
"But I am not ancient," she says, crossing her arms. "How do I measure up?" He arches a brow. "To the ancient elven scholars you knew." He stares down at her.
"Elven scholars were usually Spirits of Knowledge or Learning, whether they had taken bodies or not. Curiosity…" He trails off, studying her face. She tilts her head. "Curiosity spirits have a more youthful energy. Knowledge and Learning often grew irritated with the lack of focus in their studies, so any Curiosity spirit did not last long as a scholar." She narrows her eyes. He shifts on his feet under her scrutiny. "Traditionally speaking."
"And Wisdom?"
He pauses. "What about Wisdom?"
"Does—Did it grow irritated with Curiosity's lack of focus?" Was that flirting? Did she just flirt with him? Her tone was definitely flirty. This was not part of the plan.
His violet-tinged eyes widen slightly, and he shakes his head a little. "You have a more rare and marvelous spirit than Curiosity, da'hale." He just—he…Well, he caught her meaning. Shit, her cheeks. She's blushing. Great. "To answer your question though, it's fairly uncommon. Wisdom is typically amused by Curiosity." She hums noncommittally and continues walking through the landscape she conjured.
"Your manipulation of the Fade has improved," Solas says appreciatively as they come to a babbling stream.
"That's the goal," she says lightly.
"Your dedication to it is… admirable."
She glances sidelong at him. "Admirable?"
"That is what I said, yes. You could have let the loss of the Anchor stop you from honing your magic, but you have not." There is pride, the good kind, in his eyes. Proud of her. Proud of the work she's put in.
"Did you expect me to?"
"… No." She looks away from the intensity of his gaze and steps into the stream.
"With Morrigan gone, I find myself in need of an arcane advisor," she says, twisting one of her rings around her finger. "Would you be interested in filling the position?" She can feel his surprise, even though she can't see his face.
"If you like, I would be happy to."
She nods sharply. "Good."
Cordelia all but runs out of the secret library when they exit the Fade. She darts up the stairs to find Dorian. She needs to speak with him.
He's exactly where she expects him to be. But he's not alone. Of course he isn't. He's in the middle of a chess game with Cullen. Fuck.
"Hi, vhen'an," she says, rushing through the words in the slight panic that's trembling inside her like a tree in the wind. "Dorian, I need to talk to you."
"What about?" He hasn't even looked up from the board. Evidently, it's his turn and he finds that more important than whatever she's doing here.
"It's, ah, a delicate matter." Cullen frowns in confusion. She tries to offer him a reassuring smile. He doesn't buy it, but how could he? When she doesn't even buy it herself. Dorian looks up with an arched brow.
"How so?"
"Please, Dorian," she says, hoping her desperation is clear in her eyes. "I need to speak with you alone." He considers this, then sighs dramatically.
"Terribly sorry, Commander." He rises from his seat. "Your lovely partner wishes to steal me away." Cullen snorts, though he still eyes Cordelia with concern. "We'll pick this up later? I'll know if you cheat." Cullen rolls his eyes.
Cordelia takes Dorian's arm and drags him down the stairs. She releases her hold on him once she's certain he's following. He remains silent until they reach a quiet stretch of the battlements and she leans on the wall, looking over the edge. That's not helping the sick feeling in her stomach from the voice that's telling her she's going to lose Cullen over this. Over this revelation. She squeezes her eyes shut.
"Fasta vass, take a breath, sweetling," Dorian says as he gently touches her shoulder. "If you want this conversation to remain uninterrupted, you'll have to stop looking so distressed." Right. Guard patrols.
"I think I have feelings for Solas," she blurts.
Silence. Only the winter wind howls softly. He pulls his hand away. Fuck. Her hands dig into the stone before her.
"Is this because of what Cole said this morning?"
She turns to face him. "Yes. No… sort of?" She shrugs helplessly. "I hadn't thought about it until he brought it up." Dorian hums and looks out at the mountains. She swats at his arm, temper rising to replace her anxiety. "Stop that. You have an opinion, so spit it out." He swats her right back before crossing his arms.
"Can I have a moment to process what you're saying?" He pinches the bridge of his nose. "I mean, Maker's tits, Cordelia, this man confessed to you, what," a vague gesture with his hand, "five months ago, that he's the trickster god of your people?" She bristles.
"He's not a god—"
Dorian rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes, it was a role he played and other such explanations." She sucks on her teeth. "The fact remains that he is a powerful, immortal mage who lied to you for a year and a half."
"He's never harmed me," she says. It comes out less firm than she wants, but it gets the job done. Even if it makes Dorian laugh.
"Because he's in love with you! Sweet Maker," he grasps her upper arms gently, and her eyes widen, "he's been in love with you the entire time. He gave up his mission for you." He sighs. "That is not my point." He releases her and turns away.
"If you're trying to convince me not to pursue him, this is not the way to do it," she says with skepticism. Not that him being in love with her is a reason to pursue him, but it certainly isn't a detracting factor. Dorian groans.
"I just think you need to be careful," he says as he faces her again. "He may never have physically harmed you, but he's caused you plenty of emotional turmoil. I would sooner see him turned into nice wolf furs for Orlesian nobility than see your heart broken at his hands again." His earnestness makes her deflate, and she links her arm with his.
"I would expect nothing less." He pats her arm and lets her lean her head on his shoulder as they begin to stroll.
"Unfortunately, he's probably fantastic in bed," he says ruefully a few moments later. Cordelia laughs, surprised as much as she is amused.
"How is that unfortunate?"
"It would be easier to dissuade you if I thought him a poor bed partner," he says like this is a perfectly reasonable line of thinking. "But the man is millennia old. I'm sure he knows all the tricks in the book. Even more than Iron Bull." She snorts, and he squeezes her arm. "Not that I think you should be jumping into bed with him right away. No, no, you're much too romantic for that… even if you do want him to pounce on you." Cordelia's cheeks heat. She hasn't thought about that since before their first kiss. "You and Cullen waited far longer than anyone gave you credit for."
His name is like a bucket of ice dumped over her head. It sobers her mood in an instant.
"I can't lose him," she says over the lump in her throat. "Not for Solas, not for anything. I cannot. I will not." She needs to speak with him, however. That's the next step. And she needs to do it soon, lest all of this get bottled up and explode down the road.
Dorian shakes his head. "You won't." He says it with such certainty, she almost believes him. She hopes he's right all the same.
Cordelia slips into her room that evening and sags against the door.
She's faced hundreds if not thousands of demons, several dragons, an ancient Tevinter magister, but now, apparently, the most stressful aspect of her life is the fact that she maybe, possibly, definitely has feelings for her friend. Not just any friend, the one who only a few months ago revealed himself to be the man behind the figure she would have protected her clan from.
Once faithful, she now has no higher power to pray to, to ask for guidance, to use in expletives. All she can really say is fuck and hope for the best. It's not that having more than one lover or partner is completely foreign to her; there is a trio of people in her clan who are together, and at Arlathvhen, it was clear that some people had a lover in their own clan as well as in another. She can't say it's common, but it's far from unheard of. She just never expected that she would find herself in this situation.
Not to mention Cullen doesn't have that experience, hasn't witnessed that kind of love. He's plenty open-minded, but this is… they are so deeply devoted to each other, she can't imagine he'll take this well. Will she be able to reassure him of her own commitment to him? What's more, Cullen does not like Solas, not since he revealed the truth, though they'd never exactly been friendly. At least he isn't moments away from killing Solas anytime they're in the same room anymore…
She changes into her pajamas and silken dressing gown and washes up in the adjoining chamber. After, she paces the bedroom, teasing the knots out of her hair.
It isn't long before she hears the door below open and the sound of Cullen's boots on the stairs. She halts in her tracks and waits. He smiles softly at her as he reaches the landing. She tries her best to return it. He approaches her and leans down to kiss her sweet and quick. Her stomach twists with guilt.
"Cullen, there's something I need to tell you," she says when he turns away to begin removing his armour. "And we need to... talk about it." She crosses to the sofa and sits down stiffly.
He sets his chestplate on the stand. "It must be serious if you're talking with that voice," he says. He sounds like he's smiling, but she can't see it from here.
Easily distracted, she asks, "What voice?"
"Your serious conversation voice," he says, twisting to flash her a smile. She rolls her eyes. He takes off his boots, and she runs her trembling hands through her hair.
"Can you stop taking your clothes off?" Not a sentence she's ever said. Well, unless she wanted to take over. But that's said with a very different tone. He raises his brows at her. "Please? I can't—I can't tell you this if you're standing in your underwear, so just pause for a minute." He heeds her request, standing and watching her with his hands on his hips.
"Before I tell you, you need to know that it changes nothing between us," Cordelia says, gesturing for emphasis. "I love you endlessly and eternally."
Cullen frowns. "Cor, you're scaring me a little." He starts to come to her, but she holds up both hands to stop him from getting any closer. They tremble. She retracts them, balls them up against her abdomen.
"I think—fuck—" She fights the urge to hide in her dressing gown, makes herself look her partner in the eye. "I think my feelings for Solas have returned." He straightens.
"Your... feelings," he says neutrally. She can practically see the cogs turning in his head as he tries to process the information.
"Yes, my feelings. Romantic feelings," she clarifies, perhaps unnecessarily.
Cullen sits down in the armchair, rakes a hand through his hair. "Has anything happened between you?" She wills herself to remain calm, not to panic. This is a perfectly reasonable question given what she's just said.
"No! No. I would never." The thought of something transpiring behind his back sickens her. She's sure he knows that, but he did ask so maybe he doubts…
He nods, still thinking. "Is it—do you—" He cringes. "Maker's breath, forgive me, but I'm… surprised." His hands clench and flex and clasp in front of him.
"Me too." His brow furrows in concern before he looks down at the floor.
He remains silent long enough that that panic she's trying to suppress starts gnashing its teeth in her belly.
"You've done nothing wrong, vhen'an," she says, desperate to reassure him. "Loving you and being loved by you is the light of my life. So, I'm confused, too." He leans forward like he might stand and reach for her, but he stays in his seat. "I don't… understand. Anything I felt for Solas was gone before you and I started. But now it's back."
"How did you realise this?"
"Cole." Cullen sighs, somehow long-suffering and fond at the same time. "He told me that Solas… still remembered our kiss."
"Well, he's been in love with you ever since," he says, a hint of snark creeping into his voice. Has she really been so blind to it? Dorian had said something similar.
"I…" She wants to protest, but he's not wrong, according to Cole. She steadies herself with a deep breath. "He told me that Solas would never take me away from you, but that… that if I wanted him to, he would pursue me."
"Am I to understand by your telling me of these feelings, you are interested in that? In… being with him?" Suspicion, doubt, and anxiety all line his voice as he speaks.
"I don't know!" She shrinks back from her own outburst. "I don't know. I never considered I could have feelings for anyone other than you. Not since early on in our relationship. I'm confused, and I didn't want to keep it from you." She wrings her hands. "I wanted to be honest. Working through it together seemed like a better plan than spiralling in silence."
"I appreciate that," he concedes. "And I agree that it's better to work through this together." She nods, adjusting and readjusting how her dressing gown falls over her lap.
When she looks at him again, he's staring off in thought. "I understand you're upset…" His gaze darts to hers, focused again.
"I… I don't quite know how I feel, but I do not think 'upset' is entirely correct." He rubs his chin. "May I finish undressing now?"
"Yes." She rises and goes to stand on one of their balconies, placing her hands on the railing. She clenches and unclenches them as she looks down over the fortress she's called home for so long. Her unbound hair and silk dressing gown stir in the mountain breeze.
Her love comes up behind her, engulfs her in his arms. Tears well up in her eyes. He hasn't bothered with nightclothes; it's rare that he does. He drops a kiss to her shoulder, then behind her ear. She sighs, some of the tension seeping from her muscles.
"You don't have to be okay with it" she says, barely above a whisper. "'Working through this' can just be about reaffirming our love and commitment to each other." He sighs and shakes his head.
"I am not opposed to that, obviously, but I think…" he begins, tracing shapes on her abdomen. "If you're interested in exploring this, which I believe you are, we should talk more about what that would look like before we make any decisions." Very practical, as always.
She agrees with the sentiment but says, "Not right now." It was hard enough to tell him about the feelings part.
He chuckles warmly, and the tightness in her chest loosens. "No, not right now. Tomorrow, over breakfast, perhaps?"
"Mmm, gives us time to sleep on it." They both could benefit from time to mull things over. What they want, what they don't want, what they're concerned about. She lays her arms over his, leans into him.
"I trust you completely, you know that, right," he murmurs into her ear. She nods and reaches up to touch his face as she turns her head to kiss him gently. A few tears slip from her eyes. He presses his forehead to hers and lifts a hand to brush away the fallen tears. What did she do to deserve this wonderful man?
Wrapped in her fuzziest robe, Cordelia munches on hearth cakes on the balcony the next morning with Cullen across from her, eating scrambled eggs and toasted whole grain bread dressed with jam.
"I cannot lie to you: there is certainly a level of… jealousy—possessiveness, that I feel at the thought of you with someone else," Cullen admits, a perfectly vulnerable statement to start out their discussion. "Anyone else, not just Solas. But also… he, in particular, is…" He sighs. "You know how I feel about him."
"I do," she says. "I said it last night, and I will keep saying it, but I would be okay with letting these feelings fade. You are my priority, Cullen."
"I know that. Logically, I know that, but I… I do feel better hearing you say it." He blushes a little and looks down. They each take bites of their breakfast.
"I want you to be as fulfilled as you can possibly be," he says after taking a sip of tea to wash down his food. "I don't want to get in the way of that."
She sits forward. "You're not getting in the way."
"Cor. You're trying to downplay how much the idea of…" his brows pinch as he searches for a word… "this excites you for my benefit." She blinks and sits back again. She's become a book written in giant letters for him, apparently.
"I don't want you to think you're not enough. Because you are." She sighs and rubs her hands over her face. "This intrigues me, yes, but it also confuses me. Until yesterday, I never thought I could ever…" She meets her love's gaze. "I am so unbelievably happy with you that I feel… ungrateful? For wanting something else in addition to the beautiful thing I already have."
He doesn't say anything. So she keeps talking to fill the silence.
"There are some Dalish who are… they have multiple romantic entanglements. Multiple may be an exaggeration, I don't know that I've seen one person have more than three partners. Doesn't matter. My point is that… it… exists. And Cole told me my heart was big enough. He seemed to think I was entirely capable of being with you both."
"I see…" He mulls over her words, and she stuffs pieces of hearth cake in her mouth. He rubs the back of his neck. "I'm afraid that in developing something romantic with Solas you may lose feelings for me," Cullen says. His next words are barely more than a whisper. "I don't want to lose you." She doesn't want to lose him either.
She reaches across the table and takes his hand in both of hers. "'Ma vhen'an. 'Ma arlise. I will not leave you. Not for Solas, not for anything. Shivasan na [I swear to you.]" He covers her hands with his free one and squeezes. "I do not make promises I can't keep. I will continue telling you, continue promising you, as long as you need me to."
"You're going to get butter on your robe," he says when she tries to lean closer and bring their hands to her lips. She freezes and looks down. He's right. She's dangerously close to bumping into her food. She chuckles softly as she releases his hands and gets to her feet instead. His brows raise in question. She rounds the table and takes his face in her hands.
"Ar lath ma," she says and leans down to kiss him firmly. He sits up straighter to meet her, and his hands clutch at her robe, holding her close. She can taste remnants of jam on his lips. His tongue traces her bottom lip. She moans softly at the caress and has to resist crawling into his lap and staying there for the rest of the day.
With considerable effort, she pulls her mouth from his and presses their foreheads together. "Let's take a break from our discussion. We can reconvene this evening. I just…" She strokes her thumbs across his cheekbones. "I just want to enjoy breakfast with you now."