Cullen did not dare open his eyes to witness whatever would come next. Humiliating tears burned hot on his face while the rest of his body betrayed him entirely.

"Oh come now, don't play coy, my dear Commander." His hands were somehow powerful enough to entrap Cullen, to pin him as he had once pinned the mage. Lyrium wasn't doing anything, the powers wouldn't come no matter how hard he tried to call them. "Though if you want it rough, I've no objections. That is what you like, isn't it?"

"No!"

"Liar." Hands touching him exactly how he did like, lips brushing tantalizingly over the vulnerable skin of his neck. "You've been longing for a mage who would fight back. One that would not cower when the lion bares his teeth." The kiss pressed against flushed skin started sweet before teeth sank into the crook of his neck.

He had tried to fight back, but nothing worked. His strength was not enough, his abilities were absent, and his words seemed to do nothing but encourage the Magister to push further. He was entirely at Dorian's mercy and the bastard obviously knew it.

Soft footsteps approached him, bringing him back to the present with the sharp reminder that it wasn't the Magister at all. It seemed foolish, but he had not realized at first that the man had not been Dorian, or a man, at all. But calling the demon what it was had done nothing as it insisted on maintaining the act.

That is, until another demon came, apparently attracted by the vulgar scene and wanting to take whatever pride Cullen had left for itself.

Cullen firmly told himself that the demons were using Dorian's image because the mage was familiar to him. Cullen knew what Dorian's hands felt like, what his lips tasted like, the small smirks of delight and smiles that covered his uncertainties. It was not because of some lingering affection for the man. It was recent sense memory and nothing more.

"Commander?" this one said softly, kindly, like Cullen was a cornered animal that might lash out.

Cullen refused to give this one anything. He might not have any control here, stripped of power and pride, but he would not give this or any other demon satisfaction. Not again at least, not after his pitiful attempts at begging the other to stop.

"It's gone. I'll make sure it stays away from you."

Cullen kept his lips firmly together, his eyes still shut against the nightmare. But Maker, this one smelled exactly like Dorian, rich and dark and beautiful. The first demon had overdone it a little, too much of something similar to red wine and what he instinctively recognized as cinnamon; though how he knew that, he wasn't sure, considering he could not even recall the last time he'd had cinnamon.

You southern barbarians, he heard Dorian's accent lament in his head.

He had to stop thinking about the man; he was surely doing nothing but providing more fuel for the demon.

Hands were suddenly at his waist, thumbs slipping beneath the band of the pathetically thin trousers. Cullen bit the inside of his lip so hard he tasted blood, unable to suppress the horrific shiver as he waited to be stripped bare. This illusion was far too real, and he did not dare to breathe as his body continued to betray him.

He did not want this. Whatever his bloody hormones or subconscious or whatever it was keeping him so weak in the face of this, he did not want this.

The hands tugged the trousers back up from where they had fallen precariously low on his hips. Cullen was so surprised that he nearly opened his eyes.

A hot hand pressed against his cheek, a thumb now gently brushing over his stubble, lingering tenderly on the scar over his lip. He despised himself for the light sigh that escaped him at the touch.

"Commander? Look at me."

He nearly did, almost instinctively following the command as his eyes opened just a fraction. He caught himself just in time and refused to do more, merely peering through the smallest gap downward.

This Dorian appeared dressed more similarly to Cullen himself. No leather pants, just soft, silk trousers to wear to bed. Cullen's throat threatened to collapse in on itself as he remembered those illusions during the blood ritual, the ones where he was treated kindly, but as a trophy or pet. A hand gently brushing through his hair, the warmth of Dorian's chest against his cheek, the man reading to him in Tevene.

"Sleep well, amatus."

And he'd liked it. But after all the horrors and tortures, of course he would enjoy anything remotely humane. It meant nothing.

So that was this one's trick. Swoop in to save him, to soothe and provide a balm after what that other demon had forced upon him. That first one was rough and demanding, taking without remorse and finding pleasure in making his body react against his wishes. This one would take it slow, would seek to soften and groom him before it claimed its prize.

"Please look at me, ama—Commander." Gentle fingers in his hair, not tugging, just stroking fondly. "I need to know you're all right."

Suddenly the idea of enduring this strategy was worse. It would take its time, slowly eroding his sanity and grasp of self until there was nothing left of Cullen to remember — so similar to how the mage himself had broken him.

He almost wished the other demon had not abandoned him, now. At least that one was clear in its intent, straightforward with its methods.

"Stop toying with me and get it over with," Cullen growled, lips barely moving as he clenched his eyes tight again to avoid looking at how he was destroying what little dignity he might have had left.

The hand slipped from his face, a moment of silence unbearable until Dorian's voice prompted, "Pardon?"

"I know what you're doing," Cullen ground out. "Sweeping in as a protector, a savior, but you'll not have my gratitude nor consent. So you might as well just get on with it."

But the demon didn't do anything. If not for the whisper of breathing, Cullen might have assumed it had left. Did demons have to breathe? Cullen finally opened his eyes, refusing to look directly at it but instead at the bed behind him. The sight of the bed did not help, but it was better than gazing at the demon straight in the eye. "As your friend seemed patently aware, I have no power here," he admitted, fear mingling with the lingering arousal in his belly.

This new Dorian shifted its weight, a hand briefly brushing over its own throat as it considered Cullen's offer. "I admit we've fucked on occasion," it said finally, "But it's not my friend."

So they could get their pleasures from each other, yet had decided to focus on him. That somehow made it worse, because from what he knew about how demons worked that likely meant there truly was a part of him that wanted it. Some traitorous part, probably some latent command left by Dorian's blood magic, could not let go of the maddening mage. "Didn't realize demons did that," Cullen muttered under his breath.

"Well, not all do, but it is fairly common for desire —." Dorian's voice abruptly halted with a faint gasp, but Cullen still refused to turn his gaze onto it.

A hand took his chin; the touch was somewhat gentle, yet forceful enough to turn Cullen's head toward the mage. Cullen continued to stare at the bed, thoroughly hating himself for the flickers of pleasure the memories of that bed brought back.

"Cullen, it's me. Dorian."

Cullen's eyes narrowed, unwittingly shifting to finally look. The man's eyes were painfully familiar, beautiful and soft and a complete lie. "Your friend said that, too," he sneered back.

Dorian exhaled sharply. "It's not my friend," he said seriously, the hand on his chin moving to cup Cullen's cheek again.

Cullen swallowed, the ghost of intimate touches both real and in nightmares raising goosebumps all over his body. "You said you've fucked him," he challenged.

"I don't fuck my friends," the Magister replied quickly, his hand dropping away from Cullen's face.

Cullen pushed off the wall, now staring unblinkingly at whatever this was. He should know better, but he couldn't help but wonder…. "If you are really the Magister, why have you brought me here?" he asked.

Dorian hesitated, the first to look away as he bit his lower lip.

Letting out a low, mirthless chuckle, Cullen answered for him. "To watch a demon do what you never could? Or let it break me first before you claim what remains?"

"I very much could," Dorian countered sharply, eyes flashing with a dangerous impulse before his gaze softened once more. "But not…not like that."

Cullen huffed. That answer alone was almost enough to prove that this was not the real Dorian. "Oh, you want the lion instead?" he snarled.

"Yes," Dorian replied tersely, but there was something about the small curl of his lips and the glint in his averted gaze that gave Cullen pause.

"So you can break me," he dared press quietly.

Dorian's pupils were blown wide as he met Cullen's eyes, breath rapid as his tongue swiftly darted between his lips. Cullen forgot to breathe at the sheer hunger reflected at him in those dark eyes, terror rising in his throat even as the look reinvigorated what lust the demon had forced onto Cullen.

Even before Dorian answered, Cullen knew this was the real Dorian.

"Yes."

Cullen swallowed as he looked Dorian over once more. "Why have you brought me here?" he asked, his voice tight. "To torture me again? To…to use me?" He tried not to sound afraid, but the fact he was still shaking probably ruined that effort.

"No!" Dorian denied rather loudly before wincing slightly. "No," he repeated more calmly. "Commander, I know this might be difficult to believe, but I did not bring you here."

Cullen rolled his eyes and went to the bedroom door, daring to try and simply leave. The world outside was but a shadowy hall, a sickly green light glowing in the distance. He took a deep breath, considering whether it was worth the risk, before he closed the door and leaned against it. Better the danger he knew than whatever might await him out there. "I'm not a mage, Pavus. I can't be here."

Dorian almost smiled as he exhaled sharply. "I have no idea how but…you are. I've never brought you to my room."

"Did you forget that amid all the other violations?" Cullen asked coldly, folding his arms protectively over his chest. "Not brutal enough for you, I suppose, doting on a pet rather than —."

"Kaffas!" Dorian interrupted. "I would remind you that I tried playing nice."

"You violated me with blood magic!" Cullen snapped back, taking a threatening step forward. Dorian did not flinch away, but a flicker of alarm touched his eyes. "And when I realized what you were doing you didn't even have the decency to stop." His lip curled as he stepped forward again, now entirely in Dorian's space. "You controlled me, tortured me, and —."

Dorian forcefully shoved him back into the door, breath ragged as he glowered at him. "I saved your life!"

"I should have killed you in Haven's Chantry," Cullen snarled. "You've been waiting for the chance to put me in thrall."

"I didn't—."

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't!"

Dorian moved into his space now instead, so close they were chest to chest. "I didn't bring you here," he said forcefully. Cullen opened his mouth to retort again, and Dorian slapped a firm hand over his mouth, pressing so hard Cullen's jaw ached. "I wouldn't have resorted to blood magic if you hadn't taken red lyrium. You gave me no choice, Commander!"

Cullen tried to bite Dorian's hand, but the mage slipped his fingers away just in time to avoid it. "It was forced on me, just like your fucking magic," he spat angrily.

The mage did not immediately respond this time, shaking his head as he took a step back. "Do you have any idea how difficult it was to get that damned lyrium out of you?" Cullen didn't dignify that with an answer. Dorian had simply used the opportunity presented to him, nothing more. "How many sleepless nights did I watch over your withdrawals, hmm?" Dorian suddenly challenged. "How often did I prevent you from taking a draft, or-or comfort you when your nightmares were enough to make you threaten to leap from the battlements?"

Cullen swallowed the shame those reminders brought with them and turned away. He had let Dorian in long before the mage used his blood. When had Cullen gotten so soft, allowing a mage, a blood mage, to see him at his weakest?

"After all your sob stories about what the Chantry made you do, I cannot believe you would leash yourself again," Dorian continued angrily.

"I didn't take the fucking red lyrium," Cullen reiterated.

When Dorian said nothing, breathing shakily with what might have been a sniff, Cullen finally looked back to him and was shocked to see that Dorian's eyes were wet. "I'm not talking about the red," Dorian whispered.

For a stupid moment, Cullen was bewildered that Dorian knew about his hasty and regrettable choice to take lyrium again after the ritual. Then he remembered that of course Dorian knew; Dorian had control of him, apparently even from a distance. The lyrium was probably an irritant, just a little extra work for him if anything.

Still, the accusation hit Cullen hard.

"That has nothing to do with you," Cullen lied.

The mage's mustache twitched. "You're a bad liar."

Cullen looked away again, his gaze wandering back to the bed. "That doesn't give you the right to force me here."

"I didn't," Dorian insisted. "I don't know how —." Dorian suddenly silenced and again Cullen was helpless but to look and see what the man was thinking. Dorian's brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "When…when you were in that Venatori prison and I came to see you," he started slowly. Cullen snarled, pacing over to the corner furthest from the bed. It was still too close. "I assume you were trying to figure a way out of your…unfortunate circumstances."

"The circumstances you put me in," Cullen reminded him with a snarl.

"Yes," Dorian acknowledged coolly. "You must have thought on how you were going to get out of there."

"Of course I did," Cullen growled, refusing to look at him even as he felt the mage stepping closer behind him.

"And…what solution had you arrived at?"

Cullen shifted his weight, keeping his back to Dorian. He did not want to admit this, but the fact Dorian was asking implied that he already knew. "I was desperate."

"How desperate?" Dorian pressed quietly.

Desperate enough to want you.

"Commander?" A hand came to rest on his shoulder. "How desperate were you?"

Cullen spun around and pushed Dorian back, shoving him so hard the mage stumbled a few steps backward and fell onto the bed. Not given him time to recover, Cullen leapt on top of him, pinning his dangerous hands at his sides and pressing a knee threateningly into the man's crotch. "Exactly what you wanted," Cullen growled through clenched teeth. "For me to see you as my savior, to bow to you and be your fucking…your…." He couldn't force the words out and instead released one of Dorian's wrists in order to land a punishing blow across the mage's jaw.

The mage shoved him away with a sharp bolt of lightning, pain twisting and crackling through his bones. Cullen tried to fight through it, striking Dorian twice more before another powerful surge of lightning ripped through him and forced him to fall to his knees beside the bed with a scream of agony.

He had not yet blinked tears from his eyes when Dorian's hand clenched at his hair, holding him in place. Panic rose in his throat, far more overwhelming than the pain as he looked up at Dorian.

The mage's chest was rising and falling with each shuddering breath as he stared down at Cullen, delight twisting the corner of his mouth into a lascivious grin. The templar was right where the mage wanted him. On his knees before his master, powerless but to serve as the Magister willed.

Dorian's jaw tightened, the spark of lust in his eyes no weaker even as he slowly released his hold on Cullen's hair. "That is what I wanted," Dorian admitted, his voice rough as he shifted his legs up onto the bed so they were no longer caging Cullen. "But I never got the chance to offer."

"You did," Cullen countered.

Dorian shook his head. "No. Solas had alerted Max to some of the…unpleasantness I was subjecting you to." What a kind word for some of the worst torture Cullen had ever experienced. "They woke me up. Pulled me out of the ritual midstream. When I came back…." Dorian's hand ran over the soft blankets of the bed, no longer quite looking at Cullen. "You were here."

Cullen slowly rose to his feet, eyeing the bed warily. Now that Cullen thought about it, he could not remember what happened between Dorian visiting his cell and curling up with him in this very bed. One moment Dorian was teasing him, and Cullen thought the man was about to offer the very thing he desired most and also knew he would have to find the strength to refuse.

But there had been no offer. He never got the chance to accept or to refuse.

This was a trick, surely. Dreams didn't make sense as a rule. The fact there was a blur between Dorian teasing him and waking up in bed with him meant nothing.

Or did it? Cullen had no idea what to believe anymore.

"I had been guiding the dream before that, and yes, I wanted to see if you would…well, as you so bluntly put it, bow to me." Cullen growled softly at the admission. "But when I was pulled away…" Dorian continued, "I do not know how you managed it, but you took control of it."

Cullen shook his head incredulously. "Impossible." It could not be true, even if he had thought of becoming a Magister's plaything as an escape. "I've never been to your home," he pointed out, hoping to have finally found a way to avoid the idea that he'd chosen such a path.

Dorian winced. "There do seem to have been some unexpected consequences of the ritual we performed," he said with a motion to the room around them. "Like the fact you're here, again, when I'm nowhere near you." Cullen glanced around with increasing bewilderment. Dorian was right, at least in that the ritual had done something unique in letting him be here just now. Cullen had never heard of such a thing in any reports or Chantry teachings. "No one has done anything like what we did to save you. Not that I've heard of, anyway. Solas warned us that…." Dorian trailed off, looking away almost like he was suddenly shy.

"Solas warned…what?"

Dorian closed his eyes before answering. "Solas warned that it might create some sort of bond between us. Not simply enthrallment," he added hastily. "It isn't one way."

Cullen was about to counter that, because it was so obvious Dorian had used the ritual to bind him — but then he glanced about the room once more. It was so detailed, so real, yet it was a place he had never been to and never even imagined. And he had come here first, at least this time, finding the demon waiting for him.

"Visiting my private escape, on your own?" Dorian said quietly. "I didn't imagine anything like that. But you did."

"I did not!" Cullen scowled indignantly.

"You did," Dorian said, appearing quite perplexed himself. "When I was pulled away, you had imagined that this was your escape. And so it was."

Cullen paced around the room, a great beast in a cage.

But the cage didn't feel nearly as threatening as it should have anymore.

"Prove it."

Dorian gaped at him. "I don't know how to do that."

Cullen closed his eyes, desperately wishing he was somewhere else. The one place he had always felt safe. Where it was quiet and he could be alone, just enjoying the fact he was alive.

Nothing happened.

He couldn't be alone now, though, could he? Even if he had some control, if this bond somehow affected Dorian too…it still meant Dorian was involved.

Cullen heard Dorian moving off of the bed, but ignored him as he focused inward. Pushing aside all worries of thralldom, of being tainted by blood magic, he pretended he was a very different man, one without all the weight of his past. Just Cullen — no lyrium, no Chantry, no blood mages — and the Magister he had….

No, the mage he was….

The man he….

Cullen couldn't do it, couldn't even think it. It was impossible to separate himself from that rage and distrust, no matter what warmth might be buried beneath.

"Fine," he said, giving up on that attempt to shift their surroundings. "Prove that you're still our ally, then." Dorian snickered, the sound absurdly youthful. Cullen shot a glare at him. So he had been right not to trust this Magister from the beginning. "I knew it."

"That's not it," Dorian chuckled. "It's a strange thing for you to demand. Who, exactly, is our ally?" Cullen's brow furrowed, and Dorian smirked knowingly. "The Inquisition? When you were working with Samson all along?"

Cullen's blood ran cold. So Dorian did know about his association with the red templar. He must have had something rather spectacular planned to keep that secret, at least until he was leaving the Inquisition.

Dorian was still smiling as he approached Cullen, though he stepped a little carefully. "I've had quite the chat with your old lover." The way he announced it was casual, yet his tone was laced with possessive fury. "Strange you never mentioned him before."

Cullen gulped, and Dorian's gaze noticeably dropped to watch his throat. "You're…so you are with Corypheus," Cullen managed finally.

"Funny, all this time dancing around each other," Dorian deflected, not addressing the accusation. "You so certain I was a traitor to the cause, when that role was taken by you all along." His smile had not faded in the least as he stared into Cullen, reading him like a book. "At least tell me the templar was once handsome," Dorian added with a small wince. "Surely your taste is better than that."

"I think it's been thoroughly proven that he and I are not on the same side," Cullen said weakly, ignoring the bait.

"So you wouldn't mind if he came to an unpleasant end, then?" Dorian commented flippantly.

Cullen couldn't help when his eyes widened. "He's…Raleigh's dead?" How did he feel about that? Grief, anger? Relief? Raleigh certainly was not the man he remembered from Kirkwall. The red lyrium had brought some level of madness to an already emotionally unstable man.

"Not yet," Dorian replied lightly, though notably after letting Cullen struggle with his reaction. "But I doubt he'll last long."

Something dark shifted behind those beautiful eyes, and Cullen instantly recognized the threat. Or…the promise, perhaps.

Who did this to you, Cullen?

Cullen's lips parted uncertainly as he recalled Dorian's second demand before leaving the Inquisition. Surely the Magister didn't actually care enough to seek revenge on Cullen's behalf.

But that fury…Maker, maybe the Magister truly would make Samson pay for it.

A painful tug suddenly jolted from somewhere behind his navel. Cullen put a hand over his abdomen as he hunched over, the pain weak but throbbing unpleasantly and persistently.

Was it withdrawal? Was his body all right?

Dorian was instantly against him, hands holding him up to the wall as he stood so close Cullen felt his breath on his face. "You're waking up," Dorian informed him. "Have Leliana send scouts through Gherlen's Pass. Do you hear me, Commander?"

"So they can be ambushed?" Cullen said with a weak sneer. "I'm not that much of a fool, Pavus."

Dorian exhaled impatiently. "I doubt they trust me. We'll probably be on the move by tomorrow — but it's an army, the signs will remain." He hesitated only a second before adding, "I hope that's proof enough for now, Cullen."

Cullen met Dorian's gaze suspiciously, and the mage took the opportunity to lean forward and steal a kiss. Cullen did not have the wherewithal to resist or protest.

It was greedy, hands holding his face in place, Dorian's tongue licking into his mouth and curling against Cullen's, faint moans trapped between them. Unlike anything the demon had done, it felt perfect. It felt right.

He slowly opened his eyes, finding both Maxwell and Solas hovering over him. The Inquisitor fussed while Solas observed, silent and unblinking.

Cullen could still taste the Magister on his tongue.