"O Maker, hear my cry."

Cullen was shivering. He didn't try to figure out whether it was just the cold, or withdrawal as well. The question had become interesting about three days before, but only for a few minutes.

"Guide me through the blackest nights."

His knee was sore from kneeling. Everything was sore, but his knee was getting his attention. A few stanzas ago it had been his tightly-clasped hands. Now he was back to his knee.

And the damned voices had started up again.

"Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked. "

This is not a negotiation, Cullen, or a punishment. It's on your face every time you have to walk into that room. You need to get away from this tower.

He tried to keep his focus on the candle flame and the Chant. It wasn't working.

"Make me to rest in the warmest places."

What a joke that was right now. To be fair, he could have holed up in a room with a fireplace, to pray, shake, hallucinate and scream – occasionally – in peace. The war had torn through this Circle with the brutal indifference of a winter storm, and when Seeker Pentaghast had claimed squatter's rights for her band there had been no-one to argue except various vermin.

But he hadn't taken a room upstairs. He'd come down to the windowless punishment cell instead.

Please, messere, no!

"O Creator, see me kneel."

They'd put people in here. He'd put people in places like this. Children, some of them. He'd always said he was doing his duty, that he took no pleasure in it...

You know the last thing Orsino said? "Why not just drown us as infants?"

"For I walk only where You would bid me."

It wasn't about power, Cullen. It was about despair. A prison full of humans and elves buried alive with no hope of it getting any better – how could you possibly expect it to end any other way?

For six years he'd struggled to reconcile so many things. The teachings of the Chantry, Meredith's increasing paranoia, the real threat of corruption, the brutal sadism of some of the other templars – his own terror and rage and his complete inability to stop seeing mages as people.

"Stand only in places You have blessed."

Yes, Alrik, I was at the Ferelden Circle. Thanks for the reminder. I still say this Tranquil Solution of yours is too much. Now leave me alone.

Could he really have changed anything?

"Sing only the words You place in my throat."

What if he'd stood up to Meredith sooner? Conversely, done a better job of hunting down Anders? Maybe he could have stopped it before it began. Or maybe he could have got himself blown to bits in Darktown, or shipped off somewhere else.

Maybes enough to fill half the graves in Kirkwall...

She'd been right about that, at least.

"My Maker, know my heart:"

My own Knight-Captain falls prey to the influence of blood magic.

How... hurt she'd looked.

Idiot boy!

And what was it all for, Cullen? What did you achieve?

"Take from me a life of sorrow."

Can you say you've saved a single life, in Ferelden or Kirkwall? Can you?

Well, this was new. Meredith had never stepped out of his memories and started berating him before.

"Lift me from a world of pain."

Years, Anders was running around Kirkwall – and where were you? Polishing your armour and waiting for me to do everything myself, while the true men like Karras and Alrik died in the line of duty.

That wasn't right. But he still had his head together, enough to not go arguing with a figment of his imagination. He forced his thoughts back to the Chant.

"Judge me worthy..."

Yes, beg Him for that – nobody else will, believe me.

She was there, just outside his sight; if his gaze wavered from the flame it would meet hers, red as blood and fire.

"Judge me worthy of Your endless pride."

Roars and screams. The smell of flesh roasting inside armour.

Pride. That was always your problem, Cullen. Too good to stay with your family, oh yes, the world needed you to put it to rights. And how did that work out?

"My Creator..."

Caged and helpless, a plaything for demons; beginning to hope that lack of water would kill him before his will buckled.

You were their eldest son. You should have been there to look after them, not off in a Circle doing no good at all!

"Judge – judge me whole."

You failed your family, you failed me and you failed everybody else.

A heartbeat of sheer disbelief as the thing wearing Wilmod's body dropped its masquerade.

"Find – find me..."

You think this time's going to be any different? You think you can make up for the past?

"Find me well within..."

You're going to fail again. Even more people dead because of you.

"Within your grace."

You dare speak to Him? You don't deserve Him to listen – you don't deserve anyone to listen.

"TouchmewithfirethatIbecleansed."

You shouldn't leave this room.

"Tell me..."

Ever.

"Tell me..."

Tell the Seeker to wall the door up and let you die down here.

"Tell me I..."

You won't hurt anyone else. You won't be hurting any more either, not that anybody cares about that.

"Tell me I..." He couldn't get the words out.

Better for everyone.

"No."

Wouldn't you say?

He clapped his hands over his ears, squeezed his eyes shut.

This is where you finally stop running from your responsibilities.

The sobs tore their way out of the very centre of his being, every one wracking his lyrium-deprived body with agony.

But at least they finally drowned her out.


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