A Candle in the Darkness (A Dragon Age: Inquisition fanfiction)

This Traitor

2 Justinian, 9:42

Cullen stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the door into the prison, unable to make himself push it open. What had she been thinking, making this traitor, this monster, his responsibility? He didn't want this.

But wasn't it his responsibility? He had known Samson before all this happened; he had seen the change in him from a good man and a Templar who tried to do the right thing to a beggar willing to do anything for more lyrium. He had never stepped in between Knight-Commander Meredith and her harsh methods, and in some ways, that had helped to create this situation. At least, it had left an opening for a Samson to rise, to lead the Templars in the wrong direction.

Sighing, he pushed open the door, walking across the room toward the cell where Samson waited. The man was doubled over with pain, gasping, but he made an effort to straighten when he saw Cullen. "Come to gloat, Knight-Captain?"

"That is not my title."

"You were Knight-Commander for a while, weren't you? Rather I call you that?"

Cullen sighed. "Call me whatever you want; it doesn't matter."

"You look tired, Cullen. Not as easy turning your back on the Order as you thought, was it?"

"I did not turn my back on the Order! I chose to look in a different direction."

Samson grinned. "So did I."

"No one became an abomination because of my decisions; no one turned against their beliefs and vows and became a perversion of themselves. Do not compare yourself to me."

"Oh, but isn't that what we are, the light and dark sides of the coin? A few more nudges in a different direction, and you become me."

Cullen couldn't help the sudden shiver. It was cold down here, but that wasn't the reason; Samson's words struck a chord within him. What would it have taken to send him down Samson's path?

"You know it, don't you?" Samson asked, his voice rasping across the words.

"I want to know what you know. What is Corypheus after?"

"Power."

"That's too simple."

"Is it? What's the Chantry after? It wants power, just the same, only for more people. Corypheus wants it all in his own hands. But they go after it the same way, by using people for their own ends. And neither one of them cares what happens to the tools when they're done with them."

Cullen wanted to argue, but there was none to be made. Samson had been right at the judgment yesterday; the Chantry burnt away the minds of its Templars with lyrium, then abandoned them when the lyrium had taken its toll. In many ways, the Chantry had created the monster that stood before him.

"Did you not think you had a duty to those who followed you?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Duty? Of course I did! I had a duty to let them do something of value with their lives before they were snuffed."

"Value? Following Corypheus was of value? You threw their lives away on a worthless cause! And for what? Stronger lyrium?"

"Don't tell me you don't wonder what it feels like. Next to it the blue lyrium is nothing; I wouldn't even be able to feel it any longer."

"Or anything else, either, I imagine," Cullen said more calmly.

"Yeah. Maybe." Samson closed his eyes and a look of bliss came over his ravaged face. "But it was worth it."

Cullen shivered again, remembering the spreading power in his veins, the abilities at his fingertips instead of something he had to work toward, as they were now. To his eternal shame, he still wanted that power as much as ever, craved it. But not enough to risk the costs, he reminded himself. Not enough to have let it beat him.

"You could have stood up against it, given it up, when you first left the Templars. Why didn't you?"

"Give it up?" Samson stared at him, then burst into uproarious laughter. "So that's why you're all high and mighty, because you've given it up?" He looked Cullen over. "I'm surprised you're still standing. Impressive."

"You could have done the same."

"No. I couldn't. And neither could most Templars. You know what happens to most who stop; they're dead in days. Weeks, maybe. Can't get by without it." He looked down at his shaking hands. "Those who followed me would have kept on taking it until there was nothing left of them, and would have been forced to kill and die by the Chantry all the way to their own damnation. You know it as well as I do."

Cullen shook his head. "And how is that different from what you did to them?"

"It isn't. But at least I'm honest about it."

"You were weak, and your leadership was weak. You led them where you wanted to go; you didn't care about them."

"I gave them hope, that something better lay out there. What difference did it make that the hope was a lie? The Chantry gives hope, and that's all lies, every word. So I gave them truth along with the hope—so do you. But I'm weak and you're a savior? Ha!" Samson's lip curled in disgust. "Get out. I've got nothing more to say to you."

He curled up on his cot, face to the wall. Cullen stared at him for a moment, then turned and walked out of the prison. He felt dirty, grimy, but whether it was because of having been near Samson or because of his own complicity with the Chantry or because at some point he might have been able to save this man and hadn't done so, he didn't know. What he did know is that he badly needed to hit something. Right now.