Maxwell, curse him and bless him, was entirely unaware of the schemes forming around him. He hadn't questioned Leliana's arrival at all, evidently forgetting how Solas had insisted they only trust his word about the state of the castle. He had even gone from believing Dorian and Cullen were still at odds to accepting that they had made up with little but embarrassed surprise.

The fact he had such a large target on his back — and his hand — was truly unfortunate.

It was curious, feeling an echo of his own magic radiating from Cullen. The man took to it shockingly well, giving it a few testing tugs as he worked out how to channel it. Doing something like that was an act Dorian would rather have had a good deal of preparation for and he was not certain how long the magic would sustain in this fashion, but the notion of them going into the lion's den, as it were, with their own lion missing his teeth had seemed more dangerous. Hopefully the red templars would be too far gone to notice that Cullen's powers were decidedly not Cullen's own abilities.

Dorian was grateful for the fact that Cullen did not seem aware of just how Dorian's magic was able to linger inside him. Were he to have any notion that Dorian had used blood magic to do so, it could easily bring the lion back to the surface.

The lion might still be needed, but not now.

Not quite like that, at least. Dorian still intended to make it out of this mess alive.

Maxwell was peppering poor Leliana with questions that the Spymaster was incredibly careful in answering, her words selected so meticulously it was obvious that there were lives on the line should the wrong word slip out.

The Inquisitor was so distracted, in fact, that he missed the dark blood splatter near the walls once they reached the exterior of Skyhold. Dorian dropped his gaze to it subtly, looking over the scene quickly and determining that, while it was a great deal of blood, it was entirely possible the person wounded would have survived with proper care.

But would the red templars bother giving an apostate working for the Inquisition "proper care"? The lack of a body was certainly encouraging, but somehow he doubted Solas was being pampered with the best possible treatment.

Something hummed in the air around them. Dorian first mistook it for an effect of the wind, the way it was falling against Skyhold before rushing about the long walls.

But no, the next instant Dorian realized he knew the feeling from that Maker-forsaken future Alexius had inadvertently caused, and more intimately from the experience of removing it from the Commander's body.

He glanced over his shoulder in time to catch Cullen's shudder. His amatus briefly stopped, leaning a hand against the wall with his eyes shut and jaw tightly clenched.

We won't let that happen to you, he promised.

Cullen took a shaky breath, struggling to open his eyes and look at Dorian.

But at what cost?

It didn't appear to be a conscious thought, rather a latent fear hidden beneath layers and layers of the horrors both suffered and inflicted.

"I've got you," Dorian said, offering a hand. Cullen took it, the leather gloves hiding any potential clamminess of skin but shaking so severely under his touch it could not possibly be from the cold. "I've got you, amatus," Dorian repeated under his breath.

It was an awkward climb to reach a way in, not to mention a cold one. A half frozen waterfall tumbling down mostly hid the path from view, stray mists striking Dorian's face like sand. Eventually they were greeted with the familiar sight of the Undercroft — but neither Dagna nor Harritt was in sight.

Maxwell shivered, foolishly casting a charm to melt the ice from his hair and warm his chilled bones before anyone could stop him.

Leliana stumbled away at once, which indicated that they had mere seconds, if not less, to act.

But if they'd understood her correctly, Dorian shouldn't be the one to make the move. The red templars wouldn't trust him one mite, likely suspecting duplicity before he would manage so much as a 'hello.'

His gaze flicked to Cullen just as the man shut his eyes.

No, no no, the man couldn't retreat now, Dorian needed his lion to bare his teeth and —.

Two things happened simultaneously that sent Dorian reeling.

For one, Cullen was evidently not fighting down any shame or choosing to do the heroic thing after all, instead his eyes closed merely for focus as he gathered Dorian's borrowed magic and shaped it into a monstrous pillar of light. It came crashing down on Maxwell so hard Dorian's heart stopped at the instinctive assumption that the force would have crushed the man dead.

The other was the bang of a door, not just thrown open but knocked entirely off its hinges, as fucking Raleigh Samson and a cohort of red templars swarmed the Undercroft.

Dorian barely had the wherewithal to realize he'd fallen down, thrown back against one of the tables by Cullen's strike. His backside vaguely ached, his mana skittering nervously under his skin as if to escape the terrible power it knew was so near, as his eyes flashed back to Cullen.

The Commander was keeping his eyes down, probably avoiding looking at Samson and his cronies, as he stood threateningly over the Inquisitor. He didn't say a word as he hoisted Maxwell to his feet, immediately clamping the broken suppression collar about his neck. Cullen's lips moved ever so slightly as he hissed some order into the Inquisitor's ear before shoving the man roughly toward the templars.

Maxwell barely caught himself on one of the workbenches, a hand immediately scratching at the collar as he gasped for breath, his legs shaky beneath him from the effect of the mimicked Silence.

Dorian slowly got to his feet, trying not to draw Samson's attention. Admittedly, avoiding scrutiny was only an afterthought. He was far more transfixed by the transformation happening before his eyes.

Cullen's shoulders heaved with heavy breaths, his mouth twitching before forming into a bit of a snarl. A flash of teeth, a satisfied curl of his lips, a hand clenched so tightly he would cut into his own skin were it not for his gloves.

And Knight-Commander Cullen Rutherford finally raised his head and met Samson's eyes.

"Raleigh," Cullen said, his voice low and deadly, and Dorian couldn't help it when the memories of their early encounters sent a shiver down his back. "I trust my gift finds you well."

Samson stared at Cullen for an agonizing moment, red eyes sweeping up and down the man with the smallest frown of disbelief. He finally motioned to a pair of the more monstrous templars barking some order that Dorian couldn't quite catch. The former templars made their way down to Maxwell, who immediately tried to retreat only to be caught by Cullen's outstretched hand.

"You — you —," Maxwell stuttered as he hit at Cullen's breastplate to no effect, seeming unable to think of a curse that fit the man handing him over like a pig for slaughter.

"You've forgotten your place, mage," Cullen hissed, tugging Maxwell into him when Max tried to move away. "Be a good boy and I'm sure my friends will treat you as well as you deserve," Cullen said, the suggestive malice in his words and tone causing all sorts of confused chaos in Dorian's insides.

Cullen shoved Maxwell toward the incoming templars without care, and the poor lad nearly stumbled to his knees before one of the monstrosities caught him under the arm and dragged him toward the destroyed door.

Samson watched them take Maxwell from the room before turning back to Cullen, his eyes filled with something Dorian almost mistook for affection.

"Cullen," he said finally, his voice gravelly and raw. "It's good to see you."

Or maybe that impression wasn't a mistake.

"But not to see you," Samson added, turning to glare at Dorian. "Couldn't shake the Venatori?"

There was the briefest hesitation from Cullen, one that probably couldn't be noticed by anyone who was not somewhat privy to what the man was feeling.

And the feeling was…quite the surprise, really.

Where Dorian had expected Cullen to feel guilt or fear, there was nothing but malicious fury. Surely he meant to try and take Samson out once the other templars left, seeking revenge for what his old friend had done to him.

But then Cullen's gold eyes flashed in Dorian's direction, and instead of the thinly veiled warmth he had been slowly becoming accustomed to, the pure hatred in his eyes struck like a punch. The look was exactly the same sort that he'd first received from Cullen the first time Dorian had graced the doomed village of Haven with his presence.

"He has his uses," Cullen sneered. "As a messenger boy if nothing else," the Commander added, turning back to Samson with an arched brow. "Seeing as you didn't see fit to send me word."

Dorian's blood ran cold, his mind racing to catch up and reevaluate the situation. This wasn't the plan at all; they had agreed to play up their connection, for Cullen to submit to Dorian's power.

Instead, Cullen was behaving as if this was the plan all along.

"And where would I have —?" Samson paused, halfway down the steps as he looked back at Dorian. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, sliding from the mage to Cullen once more. "Let's speak privately. One of his people can deal with him. Alexius ought to be creeping about."

Samson motioned for Cullen to come to him, his other hand held out as an invitation through the broken door.

Dorian detested the idea of being separated from Cullen, especially so soon, and in particular when he had no idea what Cullen had decided when planning out this maneuver in his head. Cullen's hesitation was momentary, but long enough this time to earn a little scowl from Samson as the red templar turned his glare onto Dorian again.

"Unless there's some reason you can't," the templar said softly.

Dorian fought the urge to swallow, refusing to flinch even as he felt Samson's power gathering in his fist. He had to trust that Cullen had a plan and that said plan was not to throw Dorian to the dogs.

"You couldn't open the door like a civilized man, I see." Dorian had never felt so relieved to hear his old friend's voice as Gereon stepped into the room. The Magister shook his head at the broken door, looking at Dorian out of the corner of his eye. "I suppose you expect me to clean up the mess."

"It's what you're good at," Samson sneered.

In the brief instant of distraction as Samson looked to the newcomer, Cullen shot Dorian a far more familiar look. Whatever hatred he'd tapped into when attacking Maxwell was gone, replaced by what was probably meant to be a warm nod of assurance.

Dorian only felt fear instead.

But the meaning was fairly clear. Cullen did have a plan, and while he was obviously concerned about leaving him to go with Samson, he meant to do so anyway. Yet Dorian did not understand why Cullen had changed the board from beneath him; this could be the perfect moment to reveal their bond as planned. Removing the blood magic from play could only make it more likely Samson would try to turn him again.

Cullen made the smallest motion with his hand as if tucking a playing card into his sleeve.

Oh, amatus, you brilliant fool.

Cullen did not say a word to Dorian, instead striding confidently up to meet Samson. "My office, then?" Cullen offered.

"I've a better idea," Samson said with a small smile. "We need to get you warmed up after that climb." He motioned to the entryway again. "Shall we? Oh, and Alexius, be a dear and chain up the redhead."

Gereon's jaw clenched, but he nodded.

Dorian watched Cullen for as long as he could from his vantage point, swallowing down his fear. He grimaced as Samson's hand, overly large from how he was affected by the red lyrium, settled on the small of Cullen's back as if to guide him.

His Commander knew what he was doing. He was strong, and he certainly would not willingly allow Samson to turn him.

But what if he doesn't have a choice?

"You're in no position to fight," Gereon said. Dorian looked over to see that Leliana had started edging back along the dangerous path they recently climbed. "Come along, now," he urged, his voice shockingly kind considering the situation

Leliana hesitated, glancing anxiously at Dorian before she stepped forward and held out her arm.

Gereon sighed, shaking his head and mouthing Not yet. He looked at Dorian and motioned for him to follow before holding a finger over his lips.

Dorian followed obediently, more than a little concerned that perhaps his old friend was about to lock him up too — but if Leliana had a sending crystal, perhaps Gereon was worried about who was on the other end. Even if Samson was distracted, he was hardly their only enemy. Someone was assuredly still listening.

Although, if she did have such a thing, why could they not be rid of it now? The templars had Skyhold, they had the Inquisitor, and they even had the Commander.

The prisons of Skyhold were not as Dorian remembered.

Many of the cells were lined with red lyrium, and he realized with horror that more than one contained people, Inquisition agents trapped within the growing crystals. He put a hand over his mouth, both desperately needing to look and see who had been so consumed and being entirely unable to stomach it should he recognize any.

Gereon did not look either way as he led them all the way back, into the hall that had been found partially collapsed when the Inquisition had discovered this castle. Leliana had said nothing the entire journey, her face determinedly blank, but her breaths quickened as they came up to their destination.

"You couldn't have taken slower steps?" a voice drawled from within the cell. The red templar turned around, a wicked grin over what might have once been a handsome face. "I'm not quite ready to part with this one."

"The Spymaster returned," Gereon said coolly as he unlocked the door. "You knew the replacement was temporary."

Much to Dorian's surprise, Leliana willingly entered the cell without any prompting as soon as the door was opened. The templar rolled his eyes, grabbing hold of her arm as she made to dart by him.

"Yes, yes, don't get your knickers in a twist. The red hasn't touched her." He leered as he looked over at Leliana. "You, however, have been offered no such protection. You certain you want to trade places?"

"I did as asked, Denam," Leliana hissed.

"Oh, you remembered my name. How kind," he sneered, shoving her toward a corner of the cell. He then slapped whoever was hidden behind him, eliciting a small cry. "Wake up, dear. Relief has arrived."

"No, Leli…you didn't…."

Dorian's heart leapt into his throat. The accent was unmistakable, but he had never heard it in such a ghastly manner.

Leliana tried to go to her side, only for Denam to shove her away again. "It's all right, Josie."

"What did you do?" Josephine asked with horror.

The templar moved behind her, a large dagger in hand.

Dorian struggled not to react, desperately trying to pretend the sight did not touch him.

But when he saw the way those fancy clothes were only perfunctorily held to the skin by blood, the violet bruises on her cheeks and throat, the cuts on her arms and legs, all that came to Dorian's mind was how ardently Maxwell adored this beautiful woman. She was always kind, trying to hold the Inquisition together with her will alone as Dorian and Cullen and the rest of the world kept threatening to tear it down.

She was probably the last person in the world who should suffer such treatment.

The templar took no care as he tore through the bindings holding her to the wooden pillar, and Josephine screamed as the dagger ripped her flesh anew.

"Oops. My fault entirely," Denam said impassively before shoving Josephine toward Gereon and Dorian.

The Ambassador collapsed before even managing to gain a footing, only kept from falling face first into the stone by Gereon's quick reaction. Dorian was ashamed at how he remained entirely frozen.

"You said she wouldn't be touched!" Leliana snarled as Denam tugged her over to the same post that was drenched in Josephine's blood.

"By the red," Denam clarified. "And she wasn't. Just as promised."

"Where is Max?" Josephine asked, blinking away tears and blood from her eyes as she tried to look up at the two mages. "Where is he?" she sobbed.

"It'll be fine," Leliana tried to say. "Josie, listen to me—."

Denam decked her across the mouth and something clattered sickeningly over the floor. "And here I thought you learned to keep your mouth shut. Do you want Alexius to remove the crystal or not?"

"It was a part of the bargain," Gereon said calmly, gently moving Josephine into Dorian's arms instead. Dorian only realized he was trembling when he noticed how amazing it was that Josephine was not. "Her arm, please."

Dorian did not have the wherewithal to look away before Gereon accepted the dagger from Denam and plunged it into Leliana's arm. Morbid curiosity was the only thing keeping Dorian's stomach from heaving straight up his throat as he watched Gereon dig around in Leliana's arm before pulling out a bloodied sending crystal.

Leliana somehow kept her lips tightly shut during its removal, a few tears rolling down her cheeks as the sole indication of pain.

"She'll need a potion to heal as well," Gereon said as he sealed up the wound. "Keep her alive, Denam."

"For now," Denam said with a shrug, kneeling down to a small chest nearby him and digging around. "Let's see…oh, you remember the cat, I take it? Women like cats, don't they?"

"Leli," Josephine said weakly.

"I'll be fine, go on," Leliana said through clenched teeth.

"Let's get her out of here. She'll need proper healing," Gereon said softly as he helped support Josephine. "Come on," he prodded when Dorian failed to move. The way back to the main area of the prison was too slow to avoid the sound of the cat o' nine tails meeting its mark.

Even with the crack of the whip echoing behind them, Leliana still did not scream.

The way to Gereon's chambers was littered with red templars and lower level initiates of the Venatori. Dorian was surprised to see that some of the lesser members of the Inquisition were living among them, evidently entirely unharmed. He wasn't sure whether that was due to Samson simply not thinking them a threat, or if these young men and women had willingly switched sides when the wind changed. Considering the state of the prison below Skyhold, Dorian would entirely understand the survival instinct that would drive them to such a decision.

Josephine fought against Gereon's ministrations for a time before finally allowing a few sips of potion down her throat to ease her into a restful, dreamless sleep.

She never said anything directly to Dorian at all. He wondered if she even recognized him.

"Gereon, what the fuck has been happening here?" Dorian asked once he was certain Josephine had fallen asleep.

Finishing up with the wound on Josephine's arm, his mentor sighed heavily as he leaned against the table that had once been covered in items of study; now it was covered in medical implements. "I was hoping you could tell me," Gereon finally replied. "I know the red lyrium brings madness, but Samson has been ruling with an iron fist and clearly expected that I knew the plan already."

Dorian scowled. "Fucking Livius. He probably had information that would have proven useful in this situation."

"I've been keeping them alive as best I can," Gereon said wearily as he pulled over a stool to sit. "But Samson seemed…incredibly irked that Commander Cullen was not here when he arrived. He killed the first three agents who told him that."

Dorian's heart lodged in his throat. "Cullen's with him now," he managed, silently cursing the images that forced their way to the forefront of his mind: Cullen being punished for his betrayal, perhaps like Josephine or Leliana, or having lyrium shoved down his throat. Or even worse, being rewarded for his attack on the Inquisitor and his supposed loyalty.

It was an entirely selfish thought, but Dorian couldn't help but wonder if, without the Magister in the way, Samson might try to stake a claim on an old flame.

Gereon nodded. "I suspect Samson has a great deal to discuss with him. He'll want proof that you were lying, you see."

"About the blood magic," Dorian muttered, recalling how he'd teased about Cullen's thralldom. "Of course."

"Which you were," Gereon said with a hint of a smile; Dorian did not bother to correct him. "That's good. Knowing Cullen isn't under your thumb will certainly calm his rage."

Dorian pretended not to notice the emphasis on Cullen's given name. "It doesn't help mine," he growled as he looked back over toward Josephine. Even with all the delicate healing and care, she was a terrible mess. His heart ached at the thought of Maxwell seeing her like this.

"Max — the Inquisitor, what will they do to him?"

"I imagine that is somewhat up to all of us," Gereon said with a shrug. "Now that you're here, the Venatori present have more than the one failed Magister as a leader. You bring additional authority."

"Just what I wanted," Dorian murmured, settling at the edge of the worktable. Ironically that was what he'd wanted, once. Strange how swiftly ones priorities could change.

"But Samson — all the red templars — are mad," Gereon advised. "It'll be a delicate act, trying to keep them appeased enough while they wait for the Elder One."

"And everyone else is in the balance so long as they have control of Skyhold," Dorian agreed. "Yes, I do understand that much." His gaze drifted back over to Josephine. She was breathing slow and steady, the potions doing their work as the bruises started to fade. "So it's to be a power struggle with Samson." That was not a novel idea, considering that Dorian had been planning the man's death for quite some time. Still, he had assumed there was more time to play the game, to corner the man so he could be removed safely.

"One that may very well end your life should you make the wrong move," Gereon advised.

Some facet of Dorian might have been concerned about the future of Thedas. He might even had wanted to save the Inquisition, to protect the Inquisitor and his people. If he was a good man, perhaps that's all this would be about — protecting innocent people from a dangerous, power-hungry asshole.

He didn't bother lying to himself. This wasn't about Thedas.

Dorian took a deep breath. "Not without taking him down with me."