Dorian must have said something. One last act to ruin him before leaving, probably as revenge for Cullen's reaction when he awoke from those nightmares. Cullen was unsure exactly what he would have said, as the Magister surely did not know anything that was actually important or he would have used it already, yet something must have prompted the Inquisitor's startling accusation and this excessive questioning from Leliana.

Had Dorian figured out that Cullen had gone to Raleigh of his own accord? The Magister had not shown any indication that he had known of Cullen's continued association with his former roommate before now. If anything would prompt such speculation, however, this whole mess could.

"Cullen, honesty is really the best policy here."

"Good. I'm being honest," Cullen countered coolly. If Leliana truly believed him to be an enemy, surely she would have had him brought to the dungeons or some other private room she controlled rather than his own office. She had nothing on him.

Leliana set down some papers as she sat across from him, a hand running over her eyes. "Cullen…I've set aside so much. You know that, don't you?"

Cullen pretended to be confused, possibly for a moment too long. She still had nothing, surely — Leliana simply knew enough about his past to recognize that Cullen had been a questionable choice for Commander. "Okay," he replied hesitantly.

Leliana looked at him like he was stupid. "Cullen," she said sharply. "I wanted you to have a proper chance. I can explain away a lot. But no more."

Cullen said nothing, allowing the chiming song of lyrium to numb his anxiety as he waited for whatever charges Leliana had to bring. Unfortunately it was far less helpful in keeping him calm than he remembered.

"The Inquisitor asked a perfectly reasonable question," she said finally.

"An accusation that I went to Samson willingly, as if I would take red lyrium of my own accord?" Cullen countered, letting his internal panic channel into outward anger. "That hardly classifies as reasonable. It would be suicide."

"And yet you've started taking lyrium again, even after all the Inquisitor and Ser Pavus did for you." Her eyes narrowed. "You took it by choice."

Cullen averted his gaze, annoyed at the shame Leliana's perfectly reasonable words intensified. "I did not have a choice. It's the only possible defense I have against his blood magic."

"That's a poor excuse, my friend," Leliana said, although her expression had softened as she reached out to put a hand over Cullen's. "Magister Pavus is gone. Even if he wanted to, he cannot hurt you."

Her touch made him aware of how tightly his hands had clenched into fists. It took effort to force them to relax, sharp pangs of pain taunting him as his nails pulled free of his palms.

A quick glance revealed that he had drawn his own blood.

"I am…afraid," Cullen admitted. Perhaps showing this weakness would allow more dangerous secrets to remain buried. "I didn't…I did not want to take lyrium again, but I could think of no other shield." Cullen's eyes remained locked on the small drops of blood seeping from his palm. "How long has he been trying to get under my skin, Leliana?" he asked, his voice hushed. "And then the Inquisitor granted him complete…." Cullen lowered his head, regret rising with the bile in his throat. "I didn't know what else to do."

Leliana patted his hand sympathetically. "You still fear magic."

"Who wouldn't?" Cullen muttered. "It's dangerous. Monstrous. Magic gives mages power to destroy with a mere thought. I have to assume they will, because if I don't…." He shook his head, unable to hide his grimace. "I let down my guard, gave a mage power over me — and he took advantage."

"Maxwell did what he thought was best. If he hadn't, you would be dead by now."

"Better dead than in thrall," Cullen muttered bitterly.

Leliana sighed softly. "We have no evidence that Ser Pavus —."

"He tortured me!" Cullen snapped. "He made me —."

Leliana held up a hand to silence him as she interrupted him in turn. "He saved your life. And then he left. Voluntarily."

An emotion Cullen adamantly refused to believe was anything remotely close to sorrow twisted his stomach. It was whatever bloody imprint the man had left with his blood — Cullen did not mourn the man's departure. Not in the slightest.

"Your fears are founded in your past, Cullen. I understand that the world the Inquisition is creating, a world where mages don't need to fear a cage, is most difficult for you." Leliana's hand drifted over the papers she'd brought with her. "It might help you to remember that mages are afraid of you, too."

Cullen huffed doubtfully. Dorian had never feared him. He barely even made the damnable Magister nervous much less afraid. Then again, maybe Dorian had planned this all along. Maybe he had forced his way under Cullen's skin with it all worked out in his head, every possible move on the chessboard already considered.

"And they have a right to be," Leliana added evenly. Cullen's blood ran cold, sensing where she was heading. "We've had a leak for some time," Leliana continued. "Someone was informing our enemies of efforts to protect mages. Supply lines, safe houses, political maneuvers."

Fuck.

"We were able to counter the worst of it. But Samson could not have had such accurate information without it being someone high ranking in our organization."

The soft ring of a blade drawn from its scabbard rang loud as thunder in his ears — but instead of ending him, Leliana dropped the weapon on the desk between them. He focused on the dagger, elaborately decorated with red lyrium.

His dagger.

"You were the leak," Leliana said without a trace of doubt.

Maybe the lyrium was working after all, considering how little the charge alarmed him. But he had not seen this dagger outside his time in the Fade in years. How could it possibly connect him to Raleigh? "I lost that dagger in Kirkwall," he said truthfully, ignoring her serious allegation. "Where did you get it?"

"Honnleath. Where you were evidently not visiting your sister."

Pieces fell into place at once, filling the previously shadowed corners of the board. Leliana had not asked to come with him to coo over his baby nephew. She had been testing him, maybe even giving him a way out: one last chance to prove his loyalty to the cause.

And she'd had him followed, surely. How else would he have been found so quickly after taking the red lyrium?

That didn't explain the dagger, though.

"I didn't—." Then he hesitated. She obviously knew of his treason. But if she thought him nothing more than a traitor, she would have had him killed already. It would have been easy for her agent to slit his throat upon finding him in Honnleath instead of bringing him back. Letting him die would have been easier than turning to blood magic in desperation to keep him alive.

She still held onto hope for him. The king had not been checkmated yet.

Perfect.

"I have been in contact with Raleigh," he confessed, keeping his eyes focused on the dagger between them. "Not for the reasons you think. He wanted me to join him, and I refused. I wanted him to join me, but…well, obviously he didn't. He didn't give up on me, nor I on him. How could we?" Cullen's fingers traced along one of the decorative curves of the dagger's hilt. "We worked together under Meredith for years. She gave me this, you know."

Leliana said nothing and Cullen did not dare to look up at her as he tried to escape the trap.

"He and I shared a room. Shared beliefs, shared…." Cullen closed his eyes, vividly recalling intimate moments to force a blush. The fact the memories that readily came to mind were not with the templar was beside the point. "Much more. I did not want to believe he could be so lost." Cullen exhaled heavily as he opened his eyes. "I suppose I paid for that. I only expected to meet him, you see. Not an entire legion." He let out a low chuckle under his breath. "He played me. The man I knew is gone."

When he finally looked up at the Spymaster, he was greatly annoyed to find her expression entirely inscrutable.

Had the feint worked?

"I'm so sorry," Cullen breathed. "I am a fool and I've…I've gone and done the stupid thing again. Please don't let me take lyrium, Leliana. Please."

Leliana stared at him in deafening silence for a long time; Cullen's blood thundered in his ears as he wondered if he'd managed to blur the truth enough for her to doubt her conclusions. Finally, she nodded. "Of course. I'll do what I can to help you with this." She glanced at one of the papers she'd set on the desk. "You'll understand if we restrict your duties. Even if it was not your intent, clearly your association with Samson was damaging to us."

Cullen nodded, pretending it didn't annoy him to know how closely he'd be watched in the future.

Leliana pushed a paper across to him. "The dagger was found pinning this to the Chantry door. I can only assume he's referring to you."

Cullen pulled it closer, startled to see it was in Raleigh's familiar hand.

I think it's time Meredith's finest had this back. I could never be such a man. Let it be my apology to my dearest Captain.

It was vague enough to be read either as earnest words from a broken man or a less than clever attempt to provide Cullen a cover. Raleigh was cunning. He knew the Inquisition's Spymaster would see right through such a charade, so he made it just obvious enough that the implication must be genuine.

Cullen took a deep breath, forcing his eyes to water just enough for a blink to send one tear down his cheek before looking back up to Leliana.

"I expect you'll want Dagna to study the dagger," Cullen said thickly, like he was trying not to cry.

"Yes."

Cullen nodded and lowered his gaze to look at it one more time, letting his fingers trace fondly over the familiar design. "Thank you," he whispered, letting it be up to Leliana to decide whether he was showing her gratitude or the man who'd written the short note.

Leliana was true to her word when it came to restricting his duties. Cullen was no longer invited to the War Room. Any reports with just the slightest reference to mages was kept out of his reach. The excuse rumored among the general population of Skyhold was that Cullen was recovering from a wound sustained while he had been on a secret mission. That may not have been the reason for the lessening of his duties, but it was surprisingly accurate gossip.

He never should have touched the damn lyrium. He could not go through withdrawal, not again. Combined with the constant fear that Dorian would manage to do something to him despite the distance, and worse, the twisted emotions that made him ache for the mage, it took mere days for him to break and gather a small supply from the storeroom to keep in his quarters. And Maker, he needed sleep but he could not dare. The only times he drifted off were from sheer exhaustion, and he would catch glimpses of the alternate reality and had to force himself to get up.

Maxwell finally visited him about a week later. He was clearly on edge, leaving the door open behind him and putting as much distance between them as possible as he inquired after new recruits' training and asking Cullen's opinion about some evidence of Samson's men found in the Emerald Graves. Cullen kept his answers short and professional, willing Maxwell to leave soon as he felt an oncoming migraine.

But Maxwell had many failings, and one was that he was nothing if not overly kind.

"Are you feeling all right, Commander?"

"Of course, Inquisitor," Cullen lied coolly.

Please leave, please. The world was out of focus, but Cullen pretended to be distracted by a paper on his desk.

"Are you sure? I…I can't imagine what you're feeling, honestly." Maxwell twisted his fingers. "I am sorry we had to do that without your consent."

Cullen clenched his hand into a fist, centering himself with the pain of nails digging into his palm. "You've said."

The man still did not leave. "Have you heard from Dorian?"

Cullen coughed, choking on nothing but air in his astonishment at such a question. "No!" Cullen snapped irritably, looking up to find the Inquisitor strangely…sad? Why would he be sad?

"I'm sure he will. Don't lose hope," Maxwell said, forcing a smile.

Cullen's brow furrowed both against the migraine and his confusion that the Inquisitor seemed to think Cullen wanted to hear from Dorian. Far from that, Cullen never wanted to hear that fucking Magister's name again.

Except, of course, for the part of him that must surely be under the influence of blood magic. That desire to verbally joust over chess. That yearning for his touch, so hot there must be magic involved. The longing to taste him, his lips, his blood, his magic. The insane idea of reading in bed together, all but cuddling.

None of that was real. Pavus had left some sort of imprint with his magic, that was clear.

"I have no need for any such hope," Cullen grit out, a hand covering his eyes as the light became blinding. "Now, if you'll excuse —."

Cullen did not make it back into his chair before his legs buckled and he fell to the floor, heaving although there was nothing for his stomach to expel. Was this exhaustion, withdrawals, or simply panic? Whichever it was, he needed lyrium, now. His philter was up in his room, but he could not imagine making it up the ladder.

"Commander? Cullen?"

Cullen wanted to tell Maxwell to fuck off, but he'd apparently lost the ability to speak as Maxwell conjured some ice to cool his brow. "It's going to be all right. Stay with me, Cullen."

After Cullen had proved to be a traitor, this kindness was somehow more painful than the migraine.

"Leave me, Inquisitor," he finally managed. "I can handle it."

"You are on the floor, pale as snow, and sweating like this tower isn't even colder than the outside," Maxwell said firmly. "Tell me what's wrong. You clearly know."

Cullen thought to lie that it had something to do with their damned blood ritual, but that would not give him any relief.

"I need lyrium. There's some —." His body tried to expel a non-existent breakfast again. "Some by the bed. Upstairs."

Maxwell's cool hand left Cullen's forehead as he stood, but then the man froze.

"Wait, but…Commander, you stopped taking lyrium."

He knew about that? Not that it really mattered now that Cullen had ruined his chances to break free of it. "Please, Inquisitor."

There was a brief moment of silence and Cullen began to wonder if he had imagined the entire conversation with Maxwell. It might be considered justice if all this made him lose his mind.

"No."

No?

Maxwell knelt by his side again, returning a cool hand to his head. "You don't need it."

Dorian used to tell him that. A lion doesn't belong on a leash, he'd say. Dorian had obviously left out the desire to be the one holding Cullen's leash.

"Tell me how to help, but I'm not feeding your addiction, not when you've been doing so well."

How did the Inquisitor even know? Leliana, of course she would have told him.

Or perhaps…perhaps Dorian had.

"Please, what can I do to help? What did…what would Dorian do?"

What would Dorian fucking Pavus do? Really?

Cullen opened his eyes, his heart lurching painfully in his chest as he looked around.

He was in an all too familiar bedroom. Warm air drifted in through the window, the sound of gentle waves filling the silence. The room smelled of exotic spices that prompted desire to automatically curl low in his abdomen. He instinctively turned to look at the bed, thankful to find it empty.

He couldn't be back here; he had to wake up.

Cullen's hands clenched into fists in his hair as he shut his eyes against his surroundings. He did not know why or how, but Dorian still had power over him and he could not hang around to find out his plans. "Wake up, wake up, wake up," he commanded. He opened his eyes, hoping to find the Inquisitor being a mother hen and instead finding an entirely different mage.

Leaning lazily against the door, bare arms crossed over his chest, stood Dorian Pavus. His hair seemed longer, partially tied back with small braids, kohl around the eyes a little heavier than usual, and nothing but an open black vest and formfitting leather pants to cover freshly oiled skin that gleamed alluringly in the moonlight. Cullen struggled to swallow as he drank in the beautiful mage, furious at the heat pooling in his core.

The man's eyes twinkled, clearly knowing just how fucking gorgeous he was and the unwelcome effect he had on the Commander.

"My dear Commander," he purred with a seductive smile that made Cullen's heart skip a beat. "Welcome home."