Chapter Text
“LeT me iN CulLen!” The demon taking the form of Amelia chortles with a broken voice that is unnatural and distorted, seemingly coming from all around him and yet still somewhere inside of his mind.
He has only heard her once and yet the abomination in front of him, whispering in his mind, is tearing her voice from his fantasies and memory. He refuses to open his eyes and see the face of a mage who betrayed him and the Circle. Cullen will not let this monster tempt him again. Never again.
He kneels in prayer to hold the standing vigil as his brothers scream around him and bow to the blood mages, giving in to their words or torture whether through death or becoming abominations. The demons pluck their desire or rage or despair and one by one his brothers leave him to the vigil alone. The demons call to him and still he holds fast and still he resists the calls they whisper or scream to him. Cullen refuses to give in and fall to them, even one taking the form of Amelia. Especially one taking her form.
“WhY do YoU reSiST me?! Do yoU nOT cArE FoR me AnyMoRE?” The demon screeches.
He cared too much and that is why he turns his heart to the unnatural voice that echoes through his soul. Cullen left his heart to open to the whims and whiles of the mages, giving them compassion when he should have had an iron fist. There can be no grey area for mages for there can only be a compliant mage or a blood mage and all mages should be suspected of evil. All mages scheme, all mages desire to hurt the Templars no matter what they say, all mages are schemers and the only line is whether or not they comply with the Templars.
“Your prOMisE,” the demon whispers in his soul with a voice that sounds nothing like what Amelia should.
There is no more left of the promise that Amelia dragged out of him, not a sliver of the unquestioning compassion or understanding. He made that promise as a foolish boy and Cullen refuses to be used like that anymore. He will not be tricked again. With those words fading, he hears no more unholy screeching or whispers tugging on his bones and soul.
“Maker preserve me. Maker protect me,” tumbles from his lips as the silence stretches on.
There is no drastic noise except for his prayers and breathing. No more screams from below and the minor screams from above as Uldred does whatever he desires in the Harrowing Chamber. Cullen is left alone in his prayers and refuses to acknowledge the passage of time. It simply does not exist outside of his prayers and the hunger and ache and pain does not touch him as he prays. If he lets those things reach him then he will be undone entirely.
“Dear Maker,” a voice calls out to break the silence. It is familiar and comforting, which must mean it is a trick.
Cullen raises his head to only barely catch himself from falling down as he stands, taking in the sight before him. No longer is she in the mage robes she left in, no, she wears traveling pants and a tunic with leather armor covering the important vital areas. Her hair is still braided back as it used to, but it is tightly instead of loosely braided. Swords rests in sheaths on either side of her hips and they seem so natural yet so out of place on the girl he saw what could be only a few weeks ago. Blood covers her face which wears a worried frown, it is another trick. It must be.
Cullen takes a step back to fall to his knees and hands twitch back into prayer, eyes refusing to look at her. “This trick again? I know what you are and it won’t work. I will stay strong.”
“The boy is exhausted, and this cage…I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Wynne, how desperate the demons and mages must be to drag up the motherly Enchanter to weaken him. He barely spoke to her before now and a false vision of her will not crack his will now.
“He has been starved of food and water! I can tell…” An unfamiliar woman’s voice says and brings confusion to him.
Who are these women? Who is this other man that speaks- wait, that is a dwarf? These are not twisted images of his siblings like Cullen thought they were for one delirious moment, so why are the demon’s taking these forms?! Are they trying to trick him with sweetness and platitudes? The woman, the one with short red hair and a bow, stepping forward with the water skin affirms this and Cullen will not admit to the small flinch.
“Stay away! If you are demons just kill me already and end this game,” he chokes out with hands still grasped in desperate prayer.
“If he won’t let us help him then-“ The dwarf starts to say..
“Auducan-“
“Oh don’t start-“
“Enough you two! We will not leave this boy to wither away while we help stop Uldren upstairs.”
They all begin to argue and Cullen bites his lip with enough force to split it open once again, eyes closed so tight he swears he sees the stars behind them. The arguing fades into the background just as the screaming and pleading and laughing did. He will not stare these demons in the face and give them the satisfaction of seeing his will crumble under the pressure. Cullen wishes he were dead; why will these monsters not simply kill him?!
“I close my eyes and open them and you are all still here! Begone! Leave me visions and demons, please stop these cruel jokes and games.”
Why can he not die? Is it simply entertaining for them to watch a Templar fall to pleading, for a Templar to drop to his knees and beg for death? It is too cruel and Cullen is losing the will to stand it anymore.
“ Cullen .”
His name cuts through the haze of panic and pain, of the denial and will to refuse, and strikes to his soul. It is rough where the demons were unnatural and stilted, the voice is uncertain while the demons twisted it to false confidence and pleading. Despite his wishes not to, Cullen raises his gaze to meet Amelia’s as she kneels in front of him with worry heavy in her gaze.
“Stay away from me demon,” he spits out with as much vitriol and force that he can manage.
Amelia winces back and even through the delirium he knows that it is not fake, but what if it is? What if the demons or his brain is giving him these more real visions?
“I will, I promise, let us just give you food and water. Please,” she begs with a voice that cracks and wavers in a way that the demons could not replicate.
He had only heard her voice once and nothing he imagined sounded like this, nothing the demons have said sounded like this. Is this real?
He lets one crack show and whispers, “Amelia?”
“Hi,” she whispers back with a sad smile before reaching back with slow movements to grab a skin of water and traveling food from the dwarf.
“I will set these down in front of you and it is your choice to take them. Please consider.”
“How…how did you survive the tower? Why are you back?”
This must be a trick, no one could have survived the abominations and demons and blood mages that were left below. The screaming has stopped for what seems like awhile, but that does not mean there are no enemies. He almost falls back into believing these are false visions and voices when her face falls and she takes a few seconds more to answer.
“This is my home, no matter where I go. I heard from Greagoir that there was trouble and I am here to help. What happened…what happened before was not the tower’s fault, I will not let innocents suffer because I hold undue anger.”
Then as the last words leave her mouth her face twists in pain and she coughs into her hand for far too long. The coughs are guttural and tears well up in her eyes, showing Cullen how painful talking is. Does it have to do with the scar on her neck? It must, but he never found the courage to ask. Amelia pulls her hand away after agonizing seconds of coughing and there are specks of blood, which she just wipes on her armor with the rest. Quite obvious how she made it up the tower, with bloody fighting and maybe luck.
“What are you going to do?” He asks after a few moments, eyes at her hands to try to key her in to signing now.
Amelia doesn’t, she won’t sign and he is confused why. Is she a trick?! No she cannot be for the voice and pain that comes from it was never used by a demon before, never even conceived that talking could hurt her.
Her voice is much softer with pain laced throughout it, “I’ll go stop Uldred and save the First Enchanter. Uldred won’t get away with this.”
Cullen wants to reach out and grab ahold of her hands, to sob into her shoulder and be hugged as best as she could like they used to. This is not the past though, he is no longer a foolish boy, he is a man who will not falter to mages ever again. Right now he has to convince her, convince them all that the mages above him are all lost. There is not one left that could be considered worth saving, not a single Maker cursed one.
“Kill Uldred, kill them all if you have to,” he spits to her face with rage building. “None of them deserve mercy. Not a single one.”
“I can’t do that. I will not condemn the innocent for the actions of the guilty.”
She stands back up and gives him a sorrowful look, hands clenched at her side. He stands to speak his next words, to look down into her eyes and convince her to believe him, to listen to his advice and reasoning.
“By not killing them all you will be. None of them can be trusted and you letting even a single soul up there live would kill us all!”
Amelia shakes her head at him and finally looks away, hands unclenching with shoulders dropping down in defeat.
“I am sorry Cullen.”
With those words ringing in his ears she turns to her companions and ignores him entirely, her back to him and his pleas. Why will she not listen?! She refuses to understand that this is what must be done to save them all and how dare she.
Her and the four others, and a dog he did not notice before, turn towards the stairs and all out their backs to his growing shouts and pleas.
“Amelia!” He screams as they go up the stairs. “You are making a mistake! You will have the blood of us all on your hands.”
She doesn't even turn to him, gives him no answer to his logic and begging. Amelia and her companions just walk up the stairs in the room where the end of Cullen’s world began and Cullen is left alone. He is left alone again. She turned his back on him again. Cullen grits his teeth and falls back to his knees in prayer with even more ferocity and fervor to them. Cullen will no longer let mages into his heart or give them any compassion for they do not deserve an ounce of it. He does not hold out that Amelia will come to understand his reasoning because she herself is tainted by magic, she has been tainted since birth and nothing can change that.
He will not let himself open his heart to a single one of them. Never again .