"You're sparing him?" Cullen demanded, "After all he's done? After…after what we witnessed? You are choosing to allow him to live?" He paced, clearly livid, racked by some unseen memory that triggered a hatred and fury Hadiza had never seen in him. It was just the two of them in his office, and Hadiza regarded him calmly, waited for him to stop pacing, and sighed.
"Why, Hadiza?" He asked, infuriated. Hadiza tilted her head.
"Everyone deserves a second chance, Cullen," she said calmly, "you said so yourself that Samson was a good man, once. Perhaps over time he can be again." Cullen opened his mouth then closed it.
"That was before we learned he was complicit in his crimes! That was before we learned that he did not regret a single thing! Maker! All those good men and women in the Order will have died for nothing if we suffer him to live." Cullen paced again, a snarl on his scarred lip. Hadiza tracked his movements with the quiet patience of one who had long since learned its merit. Cullen was ambivalent about his views on mages, despite having argued with her over her decision to side with them during their initial attempt to close the Breach. He was ambivalent about his views on the Chantry, yet still clung to his faith, though he was not so blind as to accept that she was the Herald of Andraste.
He was absolutely certain that Samson deserved to die.
"Cullen, if it were you, if all that you served and believed in had cast you out for a petty mistake…and you were forced to beg and scrape for years after, would you not seek hope and solace wherever you could?" Hadiza asked him. She did not flinch when Cullen's heated gaze turned on her, but she could see his throat working, could hear him turning over the words in his mind, considering them.
"I suppose, but no amount of desperation excuses the depravities placed upon the Order. I simply cannot abide it. My sympathy extends to the life of the Tranquil that was needlessly taken to protect that man. The man I once knew is no more."
Hadiza shut her eyes. So it would be thus. This is where he would draw the line. So be it.
"I won't fight you on this, Cullen," she murmured, "my decision and judgment stand." She turned to leave, and he watched her go, but not before she looked over her shoulder to bathe him in a acidic stare.
"You mentioned not being proud of the man you once were. Be grateful you were afforded a chance to reach a point where you can say that. Is Samson no less deserving?" She waited, but Cullen was silent, turning his head away to avoid her gaze. Hadiza left, then, strangely discontent with the outcome. How could Cullen not see the merit in sparing Samson's life? Not only had Samson agreed to cooperate, but also he was resigned to his fate regardless. He knew he would die eventually, if not by the sword, then by the corruption in his blood. Hadiza felt a twinge of sympathy for the man. Templars were leashed to the Chantry through lyrium addiction, and there were no guarantees for older Templars whose minds were burned away by the continuous use. The Chantry did not bother to take care of Templars who left the Order.
How not, when it was expected most would serve until they died?
Hadiza reached her quarters, and by the time she pulled off her boots, and changed into her satin robe, she was exhausted. Tomorrow, she would take a visit to the dungeons to speak with Samson, she decided. If she were to stand by her word and afford him a chance to redeem himself, then he would need to hear it from her first.
She wondered where this would leave her and Cullen, and dreading an answer, quickly slept.