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The Inquisitor was against it. It was one thing for the red lyrium monster to be chained in the dungeons for Dagna to study, it was another thing for the commander of the Inquisition forces to be flirting with him in his spare time. Still, Samson couldn’t help himself. He stood as straight as he could with the pain in his stomach, and tried not to hold the arm that Cullen had broken in their battle.
He descended the stairs slowly.
The light filtered in from the opening where the falls and the mountains were visible. Not a great idea, in case any of the prisoners ever escaped. But still, it was a long way, and a steep climb. And the only prisoner was Cullen, who was chained against the wall and behind bars. There were runes on the chains and the wall, Dagna had put them there and he wasn’t sure what they did but they probably cut the possibility of Cullen escaping to a number very close to zero.
Thankfully, it was quiet. Dagna wasn’t around, the guards (which had very short watch times because of the fear of being affected by the red lyrium that was starting to spring up in the cells) saw Samson and went to wait at the top of the stairs.
Cullen’s head was hanging and he looked as if he might be asleep. His chest rose and fell slowly, the red glow lit the cell in soft light. There was dried blood in the corner of his mouth and when he picked up his head and smiled, in a way that looked like a threat, it made Samson’s heart beat erratically against his ribcage.
"Ironic,” started Cullen. “I remember the last time one of us was tied up at the hands of the other.”
Memories of Kirkwall came against his will, and Samson found there was a new sort of pain pushing at his stomach along with his battle injuries. How could someone who cared about him so much before be turned against him? It was the red lyrium, Samson had to remind himself. It had poisoned Cullen’s mind, his body, the old Cullen - the one that would steal kisses in the barracks: would never try and hurt him.
"That was a long time ago..." he said. "Cullen, what happened to you?"
"I saw the light," he stated simply. "What has your blessed inquisitor done with the mages? Forced them into a different kind of circle? Taken away their freedom again? I'm helping them, giving them a place next to templars where they can work together-"
"Bullshit, you're taking their minds, turning them into slaves. That's not freedom."
"And what would you know about freedom? The inquisition is using you because you're easy to control, and without lyrium you're weak." He paused to chuckle. "I'm not even sure why they want you."
Samson could see this wasn't going to go anywhere. Cullen would just continue to try and get a rise out of him. "Goodbye, Cullen." The man he had affection for didn't seem to be in there anymore.
"Samson." Against his better judgement he turned, the hard edge was gone from his voice. He sounded like himself again. "When I get out of here, I'm going to pull your hair like you always liked. I'm going to drag you into the gutter where you belong, I'm going to cut your stomach from your neck to that little thing you call a prick and I'm going to rip out your heart."
Samson swallowed, then let out a shaky breath. He turned and walked slowly up the stairs, refusing to run like his body urged him to.