The Enchanter and The Lion

Chapter 34 - Confessions

Maeve's night was restless, so she was up early, and in her wanderings, she found Cassandra in the training yard. They had a sparring match; first with sword and staff, and then Cassandra had her practice sword on sword to try to hone her spirit blade use. 

After that they went and ate breakfast, and then Dorian cornered her in the library as she was heading up to check in with Leliana. 

"So," he said nonchalantly, "how was the chess game?" 

"I'm pretty sure he let me win, although he denies it," she replied. 

"Annnnnd?" he pushed. 

"And then a messenger called him away."

"Festis bei umo canavarum," Dorian groaned in Tevene, dropping his head into his hands. "You'll be the death of me," he translated, seeing her puzzled look. "Maeve, you're about to be gone for more than a month. That necklace all but declares his feelings for you, so Maker's breath, just tell him how you feel!"

"It's not that simple, Dorian," she tried to explain. 

"And why not?" he sputtered. 

"Because..." she sighed and confessed what had happened in Ostwick with Andrew. When she was done and he had finished cursing a blue streak in Tevene, he looked at her soberly. 

"I understand better, my dear, but surely you can see that this is different? That's he's different?"

"I know," she said quietly. "But Templars are taught to hate us and fear us. How can I believe he doesn't still harbor those feelings, too?" 

The pained expression on her face almost broke Dorian's heart. "Perhaps because he severed ties with the Order...at great personal risk and suffering. If that isn't a sign of a changed man, I don't know what is." He stepped forward and hugged her tightly. "Talk to him, Maeve." She nodded mutely against his shoulder. 

"And," he added as she started walking down the stairs, "if I'm wrong and he does hurt you, I'll kill him, shove a spirit in his corpse to raise him from the dead, and then kill him again." She huffed a small laugh and shook her head, continuing downward.

She crossed the rampart that connected the main keep to the battlement that Cullen had made his office and quarters. The door was ajar, but she knocked anyway. "Come in," he called. She took a deep breath and entered. 

He was seated behind his desk penning a reply for a waiting messenger with a second runner waiting his turn. "Maeve," he smiled, glancing up at her, "Give me just a moment." 

She nodded and let her eyes wander around the room. Several of the walls were lined with bookshelves containing topics ranging from history and geography to tactics and philosophy. There was a training dummy in one corner full of throwing knives, and Cullen's armor hung neatly on its stand in another. The desk was well organized into piles of papers and a few books. 

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he apologized as he approached and the messengers left. "We're in the process of securing new siege equipment to replace what was lost at Haven."

"I thought we agreed not to drop any more mountains on me? Or are you still sore about my chess victory yesterday?" she couldn't help but tease him. 

"We did, and I'm not," he replied, "Although, I still expect a rematch."

"It may have to wait until I get back from the Approach," she said, "but you'll get it." 

He nodded, "Of course. Did you need something?"

She willed her heart to slow down before saying, "I was hoping we could talk...alone?"