It took every ounce of willpower to keep up the facade. In using Dorian's loaned power, Cullen had underestimated it and had briefly worried he'd killed Maxwell with the sheer strength of the magic. Even now, he did not know if he had just sent the Inquisitor to his death anyway. His heart was racing painfully in his chest, the leftover magic itching under his skin as if trying to escape him and return to its rightful owner, and, for all he knew, he was walking into his own death now.

Cullen did his best to take note of anything remotely different during the trip to the Inquisitor's quarters, where Raleigh had rather predictably set up his own. There were far fewer people about than he would expect, though it seemed various lower members of the Inquisition — servants, maids, some runners — were free to move about the castle as if everything was normal.

The entire lack of anyone from the inner circle, however, was disturbing, although not exactly surprising. The question was whether their absence was due to imprisonment by the red templars or…or if they'd all been killed during the takeover.

"I didn't see any siege damage," he commented as they entered the hallway to what was once Maxwell's quarters. Cullen would have preferred his own territory, especially as Dorian would not know where they were heading. In that vein, he wondered if he would find Dorian in the dungeons chained up next to Leliana.

It was strange to consider how much he might have once appreciated that idea.

Raleigh scoffed. "Hardly any siege, as you took most of the army with you to Adamant."

"No casualties, then?" Cullen commented as he followed Raleigh up the stairs.

"None of ours," Raleigh answered gruffly. "Nothing serious, anyway."

Cullen pretended that satisfied his curiosity, although surely Raleigh would know that it did not. There was no evidence in Cullen's favor aside from his last minute betrayal of the Inquisitor, after all. Raleigh could easily suspect that Cullen had only attacked Maxwell to get on his good side — which was fairly close to the truth of it.

Cullen was caught off guard by how the sight of Maxwell's room affected him.

He froze at the top of the stairs, eyes fixed on the open floor at the center of the room. It had been so long ago, it seemed, that he'd awoken on the cold stone and surrounded by runes drawn in blood. It had all seemed surprisingly simple in that moment: Dorian was the enemy, and he would kill him if the mage dared touch him again.

Now he wished for nothing more than the mage's presence by his side.

"Come, have a drink with me."

Cullen was not entirely able to stymie the flinch; and unfortunately, Raleigh knowingly looked at him at the same moment. "I'm not slipping you any red, Cullen." He took a bottle of dark liquor from the desk. "Not yet."

Cullen sniffed the drink carefully when he accepted. It did not appear to be anything but whiskey, yet the cider from that meeting in Honnleath replayed in his mind all the same. Would this be dosed with something to make him more docile, or to suppress….

To suppress the powers he no longer had. Cullen cleared his throat as he brought the drink to his lips, not quite taking a taste yet. He could still feel remnants of Dorian's magic beneath his skin, but most of it had been used against Maxwell to simulate a templar attack. He certainly did not have enough power left to properly fight back, if it became necessary. Cullen needed to win over Raleigh, essentially a passionate madman, with words.

"Speaking of," Raleigh said as he settled to sit on the Inquisitor's desk. "How did you get rid of it? I've seen no evidence lyrium — any lyrium — can be removed from the body, and yet here you stand with a general lack of the red."

Cullen tried to hide the way his eyes automatically shifted down to where the ritual had taken place behind his glass, but worried his old friend was watching too closely to miss it. Perhaps the truth would be best here. As he lowered the drink, Cullen carefully said, "I don't entirely remember."

"Oh Cullen, you never were a good liar," Raleigh lamented.

"I know," Cullen replied, forcing what he hoped seemed like a genuine grin. "What you fed me — forced me to drink," he clarified unapologetically. "It was raw. I remember…when it took hold. The power." He flexed his fingers. "The bloodlust. And then…nothing. Until I woke up." He compelled his feet to take him over to where he'd found himself that fateful day, when he and Dorian had become so intimately bonded. "Right here."

And then he waited for Raleigh to ask for more detail, which he most certainly would.

"Here?" Raleigh said finally; Cullen heard him step closer but did not turn around, instead taking another drink of the whiskey. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I woke up here," Cullen said vaguely, motioning to the ground. "Surrounded by mages," he added with a sneer of contempt as he turned toward where Raleigh had come to a stop just behind him.

"And…the red?" Raleigh prompted, the suspicion evident in his tone.

Cullen shrugged. "Maybe something was left. I did try to kill them the moment I awoke." That was almost true, anyway. "Eventually they explained away that aggression as a symptom of what you had put me through. It did take some time to convince them of my sanity, however."

"But how?" Raleigh hissed.

"I don't rightly know," Cullen admitted, which was not quite a lie. He really did not know how Dorian had managed it, aside from his use of blood magic in the process. Raleigh searched him for a time, seeming to look for the falsehood that wasn't there. "I was unconscious and they did…something with magic."

"They?" Raleigh pressed.

Cullen frowned, trying to tap into that fear and anger as he called up the memory. "The Inquisitor. Solas, an apostate. Magister Pavus."

"Pavus," Raleigh growled at once, knocking back a large gulp of his drink. "I knew it."

"Knew what?" Cullen asked when Raleigh did not clarify.

Raleigh looked him over carefully as he stepped into his space. Cullen struggled to keep himself from moving away. "Tell me about him. I'm familiar with other Magisters, but him, I don't particularly know."

Cullen immediately realized Raleigh was lying. He did know Dorian, and Cullen was not only certain because Dorian had mentioned talking to him before. That hatred in those ominously red eyes was far too personal for him to be some name he'd seen on a report.

"He's your typical Magister, I expect," Cullen replied. "Arrogant, prideful, used to pampering and overindulgence. He's also a blood mage," Cullen added, dearly hoping but suspecting that was something Raleigh already knew. "I warned the Inquisitor such."

Raleigh did not appear surprised by any of that, nodding his agreement at Cullen's callous assessment. "And his part in stealing the red?"

Stealing the red, like that tainted power was something Cullen actually wanted.

Cullen took another drink, trying to figure out the safest manner to describe it. It would be playing into Dorian's idea, that he'd taken some control of Cullen when given the opportunity, but he did not want Raleigh to assume that there was any strength to that bond when it could still be used as a trick up his sleeve should he be cornered. "I don't know. He was involved, so maybe he used blood magic. Not very effectively, considering how I was able to strangle him afterward."

"Not effective on your part, it seems."

Cullen growled softly, clinging to the memory of the intense desire to throttle the mage he had awoken beside. "Well, no. The Inquisitor is an idiot, a figurehead. The others foolishly stopped me."

Raleigh suddenly grasped Cullen by the chin, forcibly tilting his head to look at him. Cullen tried not to resist, pretending there was nothing disturbing about the touch and no dizziness threatening him at the strong scent of lyrium.

"How do I know I'm talking to you, Cullen?" Raleigh asked after a moment, still keeping a firm hold of Cullen's chin.

Cullen reached up a hand to meet Raleigh's. He didn't force the touch away, but merely settled his fingers on Raleigh's wrist. "What proof would you require?"

Raleigh took a step back, releasing him and going back to the desk. He pulled out a box that looked far too familiar.

"Let me make sure," he said as he opened it, revealing the usual implements of a lyrium kit — but the vials were glowing red. "You're right, we did it too harshly before. I had no idea it would harm you, not you, not my strong captain."

Cullen swallowed, trying to ignore the haunting song that immediately touched his ears.

"Take it."

"That isn't proof," Cullen pointed out.

"No. It's a way to free you, to keep you free," Raleigh insisted, preparing a dose almost absentmindedly. "Join us properly this time, Cullen, and that blood mage will never touch you again."

At those words, Cullen abruptly realized he'd approached the desk willingly, a hand drifting longingly toward the cursed box.

That blood mage will never touch you again.

That was exactly what he'd once wanted. To be strong, uncorrupted, untouchable. When Dorian Pavus had entered his life, he wanted the mage forcibly removed from it immediately.

Now, more than anything in the world, he wanted the blood mage in question.

Why did he want Dorian? Dorian annoyed him, grated on his nerves; everything from his absurd fashion sense to the vile magic in his veins ought to repel Cullen. His very existence was an irritant, his touch…his touch should be repulsive.

It wasn't, not anymore. He longed for it. Even now, Cullen wanted to go to him, to hear his voice, to kiss him breathless.

I can make you strong again.

But Dorian had used blood magic on him. Oh, certainly the act of saving his life might be forgiven, but it had gone further than that. They shared a dreamscape, one haunted by that troublesome desire demon; Dorian left his own impressions as easily as breathing, and could easily compel Cullen to do whatever he wanted. He'd proven that he was able and willing to use Cullen, and for reasons he could not currently fathom, Cullen let him.

You will never be touched by such villainy again.

"He has you, doesn't he?" Raleigh whispered, moving to stand beside the desk as he took Cullen's hand between his own. "Maker, that bastard. You didn't even know, did you?"

Cullen met Raleigh's inhumanly red eyes with bewilderment — and worse, doubt.

He had hastily jumped to take lyrium again right after the ritual, fearing that Dorian would be able to exert his influence. It hadn't been enough to prevent Cullen from being pulled into the Magister's little corner of the Fade, but Dorian himself implied that removing the red had been a painstaking and draining effort — his condition after the ritual somewhat proved that.

And Dorian did assert his control. Possibly more horrifying, Cullen wasn't entirely sure Dorian was always aware of doing it; it had become something of second nature, hadn't it?

Or was it? What if Dorian was fully conscious of how he affected Cullen? He claimed he wouldn't abuse that power — yet he had. No matter how hard Cullen tried to shrug the mage off, Dorian always managed to slip his way back under Cullen's skin, taking a stranglehold of the heart Cullen long thought cold.

Was it possible that Raleigh was right?

Cullen set down the glass of whiskey, surprised to find it shaking so hard in his hand the alcohol sloshed over the sides. Raleigh pressed a dry kiss to the back of the hand between his own. "You see it now, don't you? I knew you would. You were always the strongest of us."

Cullen's heartbeat was like thunder in his ears as he stared at the dose of red lyrium. He was strong. He was strong.

My strong captain.

Raleigh held out the vial. "You can do it, Cullen. I believe in you." He gave it to Cullen, handing over the power to take for himself, to free himself from that damnable mage's grasp. "Let me help you, Cullen." Fingers drifted along his brow, rough yet soothing. "Trust me."

But it wasn't Raleigh's voice Cullen heard just then.

Let me make you feel good, Commander. Trust me.

He didn't trust Dorian. He never had and probably never would, but he had handed over control to the mage that night. And it had been the first time Cullen had truly felt adored. Felt loved.

And he'd finally allowed himself to love in return.

I am yours, amatus.

Raleigh was right after all. Dorian did have him, completely.

Maybe Cullen was irredeemably corrupted now; but he was certain he preferred whatever he had with Dorian, blood magic or not, over the supposed freedom Raleigh was offering.

Commander, take this as an order if you must — do not take lyrium.

The dangerous urge to smile prodded at him. None of that really mattered when it came down to it. Cullen had made the choice long before Dorian forced his way into his life.

It was simply a remarkable happenstance that Dorian managed to give Cullen enough strength to fight for his choice.

"No," Cullen breathed, letting the vial slip through his fingers. It didn't break when it hit the carpet, instead rolling under the desk and out of reach. "I am sorry, Raleigh. I can't take it."

Raleigh's eyes flashed with fury. "I knew it. He's taken you completely."

"No," Cullen countered, grabbing Raleigh's arm when the man made toward the stairs. Raleigh was surely strong enough to pull away with all the red coursing through him, but miraculously the man did not resist the touch. "No, this is my choice."

"And how can I trust that?" Raleigh snapped. "This is the only way to protect you, to keep you safe from his interference — and he would know that. He would stop you."

"This is me, Raleigh!" Cullen insisted. "It was you once, too!"

Raleigh arched an eyebrow.

"Have you forgotten all those petty arguments we had under Meredith? How I insisted the lyrium was worth the risk and you said it was a leash!"

"The red isn't controlled by the Chantry," Raleigh countered.

"No," Cullen admitted, his jaw tightening. "It's controlled by you, isn't it?"

Raleigh scoffed, shaking his head with disbelief. "So your refusal is…what, fear that I'd use you like the Chantry once did?"

"I don't belong on a leash," Cullen said carefully, knowing he was dangerously close to slipping about his abstinence from the substance. "You told me that once. I was foolish not to listen."

Raleigh was breathing heavily as he looked Cullen over, seeming to search him for the truth once more. "So instead you let the Inquisitor hold it?" he accused. "Or maybe that's not it at all. Maybe you like being a Magister's whore."

Cullen swallowed, absurdly worried that somehow it might be a lie to deny it.

"Perhaps you're right. It certainly isn't ideal — but there is freedom in choosing who holds the leash," Raleigh said firmly. "Take the red, and Magister Pavus won't be able to take hold of you. Take the red, and I will protect you."

Cullen bought a moment by kneeling down to search for the lost vial. His heart was throbbing painfully, his throat tight and dry, his head spinning as he reached for it. He pretended it took a bit longer to find than it did, trying to regain some of his fortitude as the damned lyrium started to sing to him again.

And then Cullen set it back in the box and shut it.

"I understand the risk, Raleigh. And…I am sorry, but I can't."

Raleigh said nothing and Cullen did not dare to look. He had no idea if his words had done anything to placate the man he once knew so well. Cullen knew the reasoning probably seemed weak, but hopefully it sounded enough like the man Raleigh remembered for him to accept his decision. Please, let it be enough.

"There's nothing you can say to convince me this isn't that fucking blood mage," Raleigh suddenly snarled. Cullen winced before looking over his shoulder to see that Raleigh was seething, furious at his refusal — or perhaps at what he was so sure was the reason for it. "He's made you his whore and now he's puppeteering his prize like —."

It was utter madness, the inspiration that came to mind. It was certainly something Cullen didn't want, but he recognized that rage and knew Raleigh was ready to find Dorian and rip him apart, and Cullen couldn't, wouldn't, allow that. Cullen stepped forward at the same time as tugging Raleigh to face him again, reaching to cup the man's scruffy cheek to guide their mouths together.

The chapped lips felt like sandpaper, rough and harsh. He desperately thought of his mage, of Dorian, pretending he felt the tickle of his mustache, tasted the dark spices on his tongue, all while urgently deepening the kiss.

For a few long seconds, Cullen was certain he had gravely miscalculated.

But Raleigh seemed to overcome his surprise as suddenly he was kissing Cullen back, with no less urgent but far more honest need. He didn't taste like Cullen remembered, sweeter and sharper, hotter and yet so incredibly wrong. A gauntleted hand twisted in his hair, gripping his curls and tugging him more firmly into the man.

Cullen again urged his mind to think of Dorian. He wanted Dorian, he adored kissing the mage, relished the taste, grew high on the feeling. He was kissing his old friend for Dorian and nothing more.

Raleigh was breathing heavily when he finally pulled away. "Cullen," he gasped, still appearing rather astounded.

"Unless you told him, Magister Pavus doesn't know about that," Cullen said with a forced grin. "And does he really seem the type to share?" He desperately hoped this façade was enough to placate the man.

Raleigh ran his tongue over his lower lip slowly, eyes sweeping Cullen from head to foot. "No. I don't think he would be so generous with his prize."

Cullen's blood ran cold at the wicked glint in the man's eyes as they snapped back to Cullen's. Raleigh pushed Cullen a step back toward the desk, his hand already at work on the straps of Cullen's armor. "Another little trip down memory lane should be proof enough, wouldn't you agree?"

No. Cullen really hadn't thought through where opening this door might lead. The two had been close back in Kirkwall, and he had always suspected Raleigh was more invested in the fun the two sometimes indulged in, but he didn't expect him to so eagerly….

"Raleigh, you don't have to," Cullen said quickly, but the man was already falling to his knees.

"It's a good suggestion, my old friend. And I certainly don't mind getting…reacquainted," Raleigh responded with a lecherous grin as he worked at Cullen's belt.

Cullen felt like he strained a muscle in his attempt to return it before letting his head fall back as he slumped against the desk. He should consider it a small mercy that the two had always been casual, never anything close to as intimate as he and his mage.

It didn't feel like mercy at all when Raleigh pulled his length free.

Cullen shut his eyes, bit back a wretched sob, and thought of Dorian.