CW: While not explicit, this chapter does include non-consensual sexual content.

This is a slightly censored version of this chapter. The full unedited chapter is available on my AO3, username Leila_Data.

"Oh, just fuck off," Dorian said with an overly dramatic roll of his eyes. "Unlike some, I've actually been productive. I doubt you understand what that's like, Erimond."

Erimond sputtered indignantly. "I raised an army, Pavus. What have you been doing?"

Dorian pretended this announcement did not surprise him in the slightest. Raised an army? Perhaps Erimond meant the demon army he and Maxwell had learned about when trapped in that dark future. Bloody Livius was behind that?

"That is a fine question."

Dorian didn't quite make eye contact with the monster looming over them. Based on his limited experience since coming upon the camp, Corypheus did not seem to appreciate being looked at directly, but Dorian did dare to almost look him in the eye. "Situating myself at the Inquisitor's right hand. Quite adeptly, I might add. Or did no one notice how…friendly the mages of the south have been to Venatori interests?" He dared to grin. "Even the so-called Herald has been somewhat swayed."

"You cannot take credit for the reasonable actions of southern mages," Erimond spat. "Of course they would rise up against their oppressors."

"You could say the same of our slaves," Dorian snapped back. "Or perhaps it isn't as simple as you think," Dorian said, leaning against the nearby rocks like a moody teenager. "My work, thankfully, speaks for itself."

"Alexius' work," Corypheus' chilling voice interjected.

Dorian examined his nails a moment longer, taking the smallest of steadying breaths before he looked toward the ancient Tevinter. "I built off of Alexius' machinations, it is true," Dorian admitted. "But not even Gereon dared put himself in the thick of the Inquisition in those early days."

"Betrayed us to the Inquisition, more like," Erimond muttered.

Dorian flicked a thin, controlled whip of violet lightning in the Magister's direction. "Betrayed?" Dorian snarled, pushing up from the rock and taking a threatening step toward the other Magister. "I made myself the sole voice in the Inquisitor's ear. Their Spymaster was running in circles chasing the wrong leads I planted. I had their Commander wrapped around my little finger." He jerked a thumb in Samson's direction. "The Inquisition was mine before this soporati ruined it!"

"Good," the templar snarled. "Cullen is better than you."

Dorian glared at this man he was definitely going to kill, as painfully as fucking possible. "Our lord is generous to allow you to live in his new world," Dorian sneered. "I would not be so kind."

"Explain the value of this Commander?" Corypheus prompted. "Why does losing a pawn cause so much ire?"

The fact Corypheus accurately put his disgusting finger on the true motive behind Dorian's fury was incredibly unnerving, but Dorian did not allow himself to question his plan. The time for uncertainty was gone; he would have run far away from Corypheus in the first place and not maneuvered himself into the middle of his camp had he not been fully committed.

"Commander Cullen was in charge of the largest singular militant faction of Thedas," Dorian declared without hesitation. "He loathes those like us," he added with a small motion toward Erimond, "and would gladly put everyone blessed with such power to the sword." Dorian glanced at Samson, who was glowering at him with similar hatred. "And I had him. After months of effort, I took hold of his strings." Dorian wished that were true. "And then your pet here gave him red lyrium, which allowed him to cut those strings." Dorian threw up his hands and turned his back to all of them, his heartbeat throbbing painfully in his throat. "The Commander revealed how I'd controlled him, and I was forced to flee." Dorian glared at Samson over his shoulder. "All because you could not bear to see him under a mage's control."

"He doesn't belong on your leash," Samson growled.

"You do not get to make such decisions, Raleigh," Corypheus said, and Dorian had to fight down a smile. The ancient Magister was willing to take his side over a longtime ally. That was interesting — although Dorian was certain that was solely due to his bloodline. "But Pavus, I still have to ask — why?"

"Why what?" Dorian said, ignoring the overwhelming fear threatening to silence him.

"Why this man?" Corypheus did not give him a chance to answer before continuing, "Why avoid calling yourself Venatori until now? Why do I get the feeling your presence is due to a change in the wind?"

Erimond was snickering in the shadows and Samson appeared decidedly delighted. That would not stand. Dorian Pavus was a dangerous and unpredictable Magister and he could not afford to lose that reputation now.

Dorian shrugged insolently. "I was given no promises nor advantage. Why would I choose a side without any benefit to myself?" He grinned despite the red fury in Corypheus' eyes and the fact that the creature was almost twice his height — not to mention quite able to destroy him in seconds. "Why swear myself to a god I'd never laid eyes on?"

"Because that's what faith is," Erimond snapped.

"It's what fools do," Corypheus said over him. "Magister Pavus is in the right here — for now."

Dorian bowed, careful to only almost meet Corypheus' eyes. "Thank you, Elder One."

Thankfully, Corypheus had bored of the intruder. He left, followed by half a dozen servants who had never once dared glance at him and a handful of Magisters who couldn't stop staring at him while his back was turned. Dorian wondered if any truly thought such an ugly creature could be a god.

"I don't trust you, Pavus."

"I'd be disappointed if you started now," Dorian replied with a smirk. Erimond gave him a grudging nod before leaving him be.

And then there were two.

"I cannot believe he fell for that shite."

"No shite involved, which really helps the situation," Dorian said, doing his best to grin at Samson.

"I don't give a fuck if it interfered with your schemes for the Elder One," Samson hissed. "Cullen deserves better than you. I'm glad I freed him."

"I would think taking his life was counterproductive, then," Dorian said with a casual shrug as he gathered up his things in preparation for moving into the main camp.

Samson clutched at his arm, squeezing so tight it cut off his circulation. "What?" he managed.

Dorian arched his eyebrow. "Pardon?"

Samson's face still held all the same hatred he'd shown Dorian thus far, but his eyes betrayed a hint of honest panic. So Samson really did care about Cullen, at least on some level. "I gave him strength," he said slowly, his worry already waning. Dorian could see the moment Samson chose not to trust a word the mage said.

As if Dorian expected anyone to trust a word he said.

"I suppose so. He was able to give the Inquisitor enough to force me into a quick getaway; without your foul form of lyrium, I doubt he would have been capable of defying me."

Samson snarled, but did not reply.

"But he wasn't his stern, mage-hating self. He was obviously mad." Dorian smiled. "They think it was the blood magic, of course; it's always the fault of blood magic. They simply didn't know any better."

"Know any better than to what?" Samson asked quickly; Dorian was surprised at how genuine his concern for Cullen appeared.

All the better to hurt him.

"They can't very well keep him in command. He's been thoroughly compromised," Dorian said, allowing the edge of his mouth to curve into the smallest leer. "He's lost everything now, especially without a master to protect him." If Samson had appeared ready to murder Dorian when he first approached the camp, it was nothing compared to now. Dorian ensured his leer remained as he quietly added, "He's completely and utterly ruined."

Dorian made to follow Erimond's path, but Samson again had the gall to grab him. The most jagged and blistering flash of lightning Dorian could muster at such short notice leapt from his arm and struck Samson's throat. The templar recoiled, one hand grasping his singed neck while the other made the motion Dorian knew from experience preceded a Silence.

"Careful, dog!" Dorian hissed harshly. "Bite and any one of the mages here will put you down." He grinned as the faint glow about Samson's hand dissipated. "That is if there's anything left of you."

Dorian moved his hand just enough to reveal a flash of the blade he had at the ready at his wrist. The templar's eyes widened, and Dorian chuckled. It seemed Samson accurately understood that the blade would not be used on him.

"The Elder One does not suffer liars, Pavus. And you most certainly are one."

Dorian laughed with honest amusement. "All Magisters are liars. I would think you'd have learned that by now."

Unfortunately, Samson's templar abilities were not his only bite, as it turned out. "If you'd really had Cullen, why was he working with me?"

It took everything for Dorian to show absolutely nothing, even as his mind reeled to understand Samson's words. He was suspicious of Cullen, certainly, but had trouble imagining that the man would betray the Inquisition in such a manner.

"You didn't think we just stumbled in each other's paths, did you?" Samson said with a mocking sneer, quite comfortable with his new power over the conversation. "He came to me."

Dorian forced a small smile, but it was difficult. He could not be certain that Samson was not lying. He also could not know if it was the truth. That made his next words liable to either solidify his position in Corypheus' camp or give Samson ample proof to get him killed.

"Why wouldn't I let my pet help the Elder One?" Dorian deflected.

There was a beat where Dorian was certain he'd signed his own death warrant, but then Samson's cool gaze faltered. "He's not a pet."

Dorian shrugged, starting off once more and hoping Samson did not push further. "Not anymore, I suppose."

"Never was," Samson countered as he followed.

"Of course he was," Dorian said cheerfully. "I couldn't have chosen a finer man to defile."

Now that they were closer to other mages, Samson held his powers at bay — but not his tongue. "I'll bet that's what you wanted, but you never got it."

How annoyingly accurate.

"Does he still have that scar on the left leg?" Samson chuckled as he motioned to a spot just beside his own crotch, his change in demeanor so startling it threatened to throw Dorian off balance. "All the dangerous mages we fought and that from a fucking bar fight; did he tell you?"

Dorian very firmly shoved away the horror that somehow Samson knew such an intimate wound. He instead focused on all the times he'd seen Cullen naked, or mostly such, searching every tiny detail his memory could conjure. The fact that he soon felt a wave of overwhelming relief was more than a little disturbing, truth be told.

"Must have finally faded," he said confidently before turning to look Samson directly in the eye. Without blinking, he added, "Unless you're mistaking it for the burn on his inner right thigh." Dorian smirked as the feigned laughter disappeared from the red templar's face.

"Before this is over," Samson said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper, "You won't be so pretty. Whatever you did to him, you will pay for it tenfold, maleficar."

Dorian's glee did not falter in the slightest, and this time there was no act behind it. "Careful. For a moment there, you almost sounded like my favorite pet." Dorian rushed off before Samson replied, but was pleased that he'd so shaken the man that he was delayed at least that much.

With the help of some poor servants that the Venatori had dragged along, Dorian was provided an almost comfortable place to rest. For hours he stared at the inside of the tent, unable to force his eyes shut long enough to even think of sleeping. Every hushed voice he heard was the sound of an upcoming threat, every echo from wherever some of the red templars were sparring was an imminent enemy, and every thought in his own head threatened to betray him.

He was still wide awake when Erimond dropped by pretending to just be delivering some rations. Clearly he had not been expecting Dorian to still be wide awake, probably hoping to use his exhaustion against him. "It did occur to me, Dorian," he said, voice oozing kindness which surely meant whatever came next would be decidedly unfriendly. "When you were abandoning your former cause, why did you not bring Alexius with you? I thought you two were friends."

Dorian stole a moment with a sip of reasonably good wine. "It was not as though I had time." Erimond pointedly looked at Dorian's packs. "I never unpacked," he lied. "But no, even if I'd had the time I would have left him."

Erimond arched an eyebrow. "I know we haven't spoken in years, but even the reckless Altus Pavus I knew wouldn't have left such a close friend in the lurch."

"Hardly," Dorian smirked. "It might not have been his plan, but Gereon is in a good place now."

Erimond's eyes widened with an honest flash of surprise. "Wait…he's dead?"

Dorian laughed heartily, reaching for some of the cheese the other Magister had brought. "No, no, he's not dead. He's been press-ganged into doing research for the Inquisition." Erimond did not fully relax at this assurance. "Everyone knows he's happiest with his research; better, the Inquisition has been increasingly lax with his security. He can make his move when he's ready. My cover may be blown, but he's still building his."

Erimond did not appear to fully believe him, but that was no surprise. A few mundane minutes of chitchat later and the Magister excused himself to return to his own tent.

After finishing the small meal, Dorian's eyes finally forced themselves shut as the stress and exhaustion finally began to overcome the adrenaline. Dancing on the edge of an abyss was normal for him. He had become far too comfortable with life in the Inquisition, allowing himself to believe he was surrounded by friends when they were no less dangerous to him than the Magisterium. As his mind slowly edged toward sleep, his mind wandered down the path laid out by the conversation with Erimond.

Dorian, I say this with honest affection, but your scandalous impulses are going to get you killed. Gereon had told him that when Dorian informed his former mentor of his intentions to wheedle his way into this budding Inquisition.

The observation had not discouraged him in the slightest.

My dear Gereon. My scandalous impulses are the only reason I'm still alive.

Well, they hadn't failed him quite yet.

Dorian did not need to open his eyes to know where he was. He could smell the sea drifting in on the light breeze, the surrounding air was pleasantly warm, and the slight bite of spice tickled his senses. He would be perfectly content basking here in the mild, comforting atmosphere of home all night.

He only got about two seconds of that peace.

"Please stop, I don't — please!" a familiar voice gasped.

Dorian's eyes flew open, his heart skipping a beat.

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't want it," an even more familiar voice replied, low and rough with salacious desire. "If you didn't want me."

"St-stop!"

"No."

Dorian couldn't move, too taken aback by what he was witnessing in the low light of the room. This might turn out to be one of the best dreams he'd ever experienced.

A rather flattering version of himself had an entirely flustered Commander pinned to the wall just beside the door, the latter clearly having made a run for it only for not-Dorian to overpower him. Cullen was wearing nothing but trousers; the pretty mage had a hand slipped beneath them, making the light silk shimmer in the moonlight. Even as Cullen clearly attempted to push him away, the mage dragged his teeth along the man's ear and elicited an unwitting moan.

Cullen gasped as the mage pressed hard kisses down his neck. "Dorian, please!" Cullen sounded completely terrified, but there was a clear hint of desire slipping into his tone and it might have been the hottest thing Dorian ever had the pleasure of hearing.

Dorian jerked his head side to side, shaking himself of the dreadful lust the vision fueled. "Pardon me, but I do believe the man said stop."

The other Dorian did not stop, turning slowly to appraise the new arrival. He kept the Commander pinned to the wall, a hand still in the man's trousers as Cullen trembled. It was an almost perfect copy of Dorian, albeit with longer hair and slightly smoother skin, but the flash of violet in those eyes gave the creature's identity away. "Care to join me?" it purred. "He's quite delightful," it continued, voice smooth and sultry as the creature slipped a thumb into Cullen's mouth. "I'm sure he can take us both."

Cullen's full body shudder just then did nothing to help Dorian's resolve, but he wasn't about to let the desire demon enjoy this fantasy. Whatever the form, the Commander was his.

"Please leave this place," Dorian requested firmly. The demon smirked skeptically, dragging the damp digit from Cullen's mouth and along his stubbled jaw. Dorian swallowed, his eyes surely betraying him as he could not help but drink the debauched Commander in: the flush of tearstained cheeks, the blush blooming over a scarred chest, the teeth sinking into a lower lip to stifle another moan. "Now," Dorian added when the demon made absolutely no move to leave the Commander alone.

The desire demon huffed, but still did not leave Cullen's side. Instead, the creature threaded a hand through the man's beautiful hair, tugging on those curls and drawing a sensual gasp as it licked a stripe up the exposed throat. The Commander flinched, eyes firmly shut.

"I've always been welcome here, lover," the demon sighed with a wicked smile, dark violet eyes slowly drifting down Dorian's body. A tongue, a little too long, swept suggestively between parted lips.

"I am not your lover and you're confusing tolerance with hospitality," Dorian said, silently cursing the way his voice had slipped a notch higher. "You're an amusement, nothing more."

The demon's eyes narrowed. "Oh, come now. No one's in danger from me here." As if it would prove it, the creature startled the Commander with an intense kiss.

A supremely arousing kiss, one that asked for nothing and took everything.

Dorian awkwardly cleared his throat, his resolve eroding dangerously fast. "I've asked you nicely. You'll want to leave before that changes."

The demon pouted, one hand returning to Cullen's trousers as the other flattened over the man's muscled chest. The trousers accidentally-on-purpose slipped lower. "What happens in the Fade stays in the Fade. Pretty sure you're the one who told me that," it said with a grin.

"I was establishing barriers," Dorian replied dismissively. Hopefully his real body wasn't reacting as obviously as his current one. "Can't have you trying to possess me, can I?"

The desire demon sighed irritably, but still did not heed Dorian's request. It was apparently unable to keep its hands off of the Commander, now slipping the other hand down to grope Cullen's buttocks. The Commander let out a whimper through bared teeth, squirming as the demon pressed another kiss against his ear. A visible tremor rolled through the Commander as he turned his head away, still caged against the wall. His eyes remained shut, but fresh tears slipped down his face.

Dorian's mouth was very dry, and those tears were deliciously enticing.

Like the demon knew exactly what Dorian fleetingly considered, it lapped the tears up with a pleased hum before looking back to Dorian. "If you wish, I can ensure your Commander recalls nothing."

Understanding crashed into him brutally, leaving Dorian feeling similar to the times Cullen had used his Silence to cut him off from the Fade. The air felt punched out of him, his legs went weak, and the world — well, the Fade anyway — seemed to shift beneath his feet.

This wasn't just a dream. That man the demon was assaulting was no trapped spirit or figment of the Fade — he was real. It was surely impossible, but this man was actually Commander Cullen. Dorian's mind reeled as it scrambled to grasp this, that somehow Cullen had been pulled back to Dorian's mental getaway, despite the distance, the lyrium, everything.

It was the Commander being violated before his eyes.

The desire demon had not stopped its assault in the least, taking Dorian's silence as consent as it licked and nipped along Cullen's collarbone. The man managed the smallest, "Please," a mere sigh turned to a strangled gasp as the demon sank its unnaturally sharp teeth into the Commander's neck.

"Get out," Dorian demanded, drawing on the Fade around him to conjure flames at his fingertips.

The demon languidly looked him over as it raised an elegant eyebrow in challenge. Dorian's blood ran cold as he abruptly realized Cullen had no defense. If he had, clearly he would have already fought off the demon before now. And if the demon was truthful in that it could affect his mind, make him forget, it could do serious harm before Dorian would be able to stop it.

But miraculously, the demon stilled, slowly withdrawing its hands before finally stepping away with a put out sigh. "Bit greedy, keeping such a pretty pet all to yourself." It stalked toward Dorian, leaving Cullen panting and shivering against the wall. "You and I can have fun later," the demon purred as it shifted into the shape of the Commander instead. "Now that I know what you prefer," it added in a whisper, running a hand over Dorian's chest before continuing on and disappearing through the wall behind him.

Dorian's heart was surely trying to escape his chest, his apprehension skyrocketing as he turned to look at Cullen. The man had not moved, his eyes still tightly shut as his shoulders heaved with either silent sobs or efforts to keep from vomiting — possibly both. Dorian could not help but glance down and confirm that, despite Cullen's patent fear and aversion, the demon's efforts had been quite successful.

Dorian found that he could not move. He was entirely torn, desperately wanting to continue what the demon started more than he'd ever wanted to ravish a man — and yet he also had the bizarre urge to comfort him.

Perhaps doing nothing was the safest option. Then again, Magister Pavus never took the safe option.

And with Commander Cullen, there was no such thing.