A/N: I've had an AU kicking around my head for a bit, and a visual Reddit prompt of a prison cell got me to try writing some of it.
The light was a lie.
It was a strange fact to cling to, but there was little else left that he knew. But he did know that the pale light that shone through the small cell window was not real. It changed over time, angles shifting, varying in intensity, but it was not natural. Whatever was causing the light was magic.
It seemed a poor trick. Perhaps it was intended to make him think he'd been there for months rather than weeks. Maybe it was to trick him into questioning what his own body assuredly knew.
He'd been denied lyrium this entire time. He was the only one, though. There had been multiple former templars in nearby cells when he had been locked away. Their doses were not gifted, but traded, offered as a reward for submitting and switching sides. He had determined the moment he had been captured that he would never take the red.
Yet once pain had started to wrack his body, once he could no longer trust his own thoughts as migraines and hallucinations started wearing away his sanity, he feared the day they would make the offer. He was no longer certain he would have the strength to turn down any source of relief.
But now, he was alone. The others were already turned or dead, and yet still no one came to offer him that choice.
It was ironic, how easily the Inquisition had fallen. He'd set the pieces perfectly, guided Maxwell Trevelyan's hand so that he would rise — and then fall — at just the right moment.
But that moment had never had the opportunity to come. The serpent from the north had been playing the game, too. When in check, he did not retreat and regroup as the former Knight-Commander had anticipated.
He'd simply cheated.
The click of heels on the stone floor echoed as someone strode down the dungeon hall. It was difficult to tell how close he was based on sound alone, but the smell was undeniable.
Dorian Pavus' magic had always been different. Cullen hated it because he loved it — it was attractive, even enticing. Some augmented version of necromancy, merged with blood magic and something else Cullen had never managed to pinpoint — something uniquely and undeniably Dorian.
When the heels stopped outside his cell, Cullen refused to look. He stared at the pale light cast over the floor, determined not to give an inch. Whatever fucking Magister Pavus wanted from him, he was not going to get.
The door to the cell swung open so silently Cullen was not even aware of it until Dorian stepped into the cell and slammed it shut behind him. The templar's eyes betrayed him, briefly flicking up at the sound. Nothing for it, he glared at Dorian instead.
Dorian was smiling and it was infuriating.
"Checkmate, I think, Commander?" he said after a moment, stepping further into the room but notably out of reach considering the chains about Cullen's wrists and ankles.
"You cheated," Cullen growled before he could stop himself.
Dorian laughed brightly. "Don't be a sore loser just because I won."
"You call this a victory?" Cullen challenged, slowly rising to his feet. His legs were unsteady, but he did everything in his power to keep from trembling. "Tevinter fell before, it will fall again. No matter what your master thinks."
Dorian arched an eyebrow at him, a smile dancing in his eyes. "They really have been keeping you in the dark, haven't they? Good." The mage settled himself on the bench opposite, motioning for Cullen to take a seat.
He did not.
Dorian pretended this did not irk him as he adjusted his robes. "You will be pleased to hear that Corypheus is dead."
Cullen did not bother considering the words for a second, instead crossing his arms despite the awkwardness of his chains and continuing to stare. Dorian examined his fingernails before sighing irritably.
"Didn't you hear me? The big bad Magister is dead. The Inquisition wins after all."
Cullen almost rolled his eyes. "I'm sure that's a great comfort to Trevelyan."
"As if you didn't intend on killing him the second his back was turned."
"I'm not you, mage. I was never going to kill him."
Dorian smiled again, so handsome and irritating. "Oh? That's where you drew the line, then?" Dorian did not have to move for Cullen to feel increasingly cornered. "Rumors and sabotage and backhanded deals to destroy the mages from within and without, but actually bringing a blade over his throat — no, that would be dishonorable," he said with a dark chuckle.
"A blade might have been kinder," Cullen admitted coolly. "I suppose we'll never know."
Dorian shrugged and brushed some non-existent dust from his shoulder. "If you'd like another game, I'm always up for a rematch, so long as it's with you," he offered with a heavily suggestive grin.
Cullen's nails dug into his arms, infuriated at the involuntary flush rising up his neck. That had always been part of the game. Dorian would flirt excessively and Cullen would pretend to fall for it — but Dorian had never been fooled, had he? He knew who Cullen was better than anyone.
It had always been dangerous to try beating him at his own game. Never for one second, not when sharing drinks or playing chess, not when conversing about favorite books or sharing hurried moments of passion in shadowy corners, did Cullen trust him. He knew better than that. He had known he was simply another pawn in whatever schemes the Tevinter was weaving. But to think that Dorian would betray Thedas itself — that had not even occurred to him.
He hated himself for that weakness. He should have recognized the Tevinter's intentions all along. He hated himself even more now, considering that he had no idea what the man's current goals were. Dorian did not gloat just to gloat. He was here for a reason.
"Free me from these infernal chains and maybe I'll oblige," Cullen said finally.
The last thing Cullen expected at those words were for the chains to melt away as though they had never existed. While Cullen rubbed his aching wrists, utterly bewildered at the unexpected freedom, Dorian fluidly rose to his feet and stepped closer.
Far too close, until they were sharing the same breath. Cullen was weak from imprisonment, but his eyes drifted to the mage's neck as he wondered how much strength he needed to break it.
"Well, Commander?" Dorian was smiling again, more softly this time, his grey eyes filled with something…almost warm. "How shall you oblige?"
The world was spinning as a hand drifted through his hair, the touch oddly soothing.
Cullen opened his eyes. Dorian was so close, a hand in his hair as he read by a low light hovering overhead. Cullen started so violently he fell off the bed and crashed unceremoniously to the floor.
"Cullen!" Dorian tossed aside his book and hastily shifted from the bed to kneel at his side, a hand drifting through his hair once more but this time seeming to look for any cuts or bruises. Cullen grabbed his arm to push him away, but no longer recalled why he did not want to be touched. Dorian did not resist or retreat, seeming to wait for Cullen.
His mind was foggy, panic and fear clenching at his chest like he was trapped — but he could not remember why.
"A nightmare, I think," Cullen admitted, slowly relaxing his grip. "I must have drifted."
Dorian waved a hand as he got to his feet, throwing open the window to allow summer air and the fresh scent of the nearby sea to drift inside. Slipping back onto the bed, he smiled charmingly and patted the space beside him. "Come here, amatus. I'll make sure you've no more nightmares tonight."
It did not feel possible to resist, though he could think of no reason why he would, and Cullen settled down against him. Dorian resumed playing with his hair as he turned the pages of his book, looking for wherever he had been before Cullen's fright. He started reading aloud. His voice was quiet, soothing, and Cullen did not bother trying to follow the Tevene that he still had trouble understanding.
He was safe. He was always safe with Dorian. When others would have punished him for being on the wrong side of a war, Dorian had protected him. It was only due to Dorian's efforts that he managed to fully get off of lyrium. There was no reason for worry or fear anymore. The Tevinter Imperium was not so bad after all, at least not with him.
The fear that it was all a lie, that Cullen wasn't even really Cullen anymore, slowly drifted away under Dorian's delicate, magical touch.
Cullen shut his eyes against the pale light shining through the open window.