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No, no, nonononono...
It wasn't fair. He hadn't been back in his cell for more than an hour. There was still fluid leaking out of his ass from last time, they couldn't possibly expect him to-
The guards dragged him along by the elbows, uncaring of the way his legs were still too weak to support his weight. It wasn't fair, Maker, why didn't they just kill him and be done with it? They'd killed everyone else, he was the last one left, there was no one left for him to betray even if they were still asking him questions-
The guards threw him down on the floor. Erimond took him by the hair and drew him up on his knees.
"You've gotten quite skinny, haven't you Dorian?"
Dorian used what little strength he had left to turn his head away.
"Never you mind. I've got just the thing to fill you up." Dorian didn't have to look at him to be able to tell that he was leering. Erimond retreated to his throne on the far side of the room, sending a box skittering over the floor towards him.
Dorian wondered, without caring one whit as to the answer, what it would be this time. Last time, it had been the Bull, or rather, several desire demons wearing his face. The Bull was dead. He'd seen the body, unmistakable even with red lyrium growing from every orifice. It had remained in the cell across from his for a very long time after the Bull himself had gone.
Why was he still alive? Why couldn't he just-
The box seemingly melted into a puddle of black goo which shimmered sinisterly on the floor before beginning to sprout appendages of some sort. Tendrils. Tentacles.
They reached for him, wrapping tightly around his middle. He felt his ribs creak, and there was so little between them and Dorian's skin that he felt like one wrong move would cause them to splinter and open him up. He was hauled bodily into he hung over the epicenter of the goo, and then more tentacles began wrapping around his limbs, holding him spread-eagle. Dorian couldn't help but sob as he felt another probe at his entrance: he'd been torn rather badly during the last session, and even the feel of the tentacle pressing against his hole was agony.
When it thrust in him, the sensation went far beyond agony. He would cry, but he hadn't been allowed water for far too long to waste it like that; he would scream, but he had worn out his voice long ago.
The tentacle scraped dryly inside of him, catching against his insides as though it were covered nettle-hairs, blood and spend from the previous session not nearly enough to ease its way. Yet another tentacle wound it's way around his neck, not squeezing, just positioning.
The end of the tentacle butted against Dorian's lips. Dorian grit his teeth, and that's when the tentacle started to squeeze, until he couldn't help but open his mouth. The tentacle thrust inside, Dorian's gag reflex triggering uselessly as it plunged deep down his throat.
The thing came then, possibly. It expelled something, at least. Dorian could feel the bulge of it traveling the length on the tentacle fucking his mouth, pressing into his windpipe and then nearly cracking his jaw open. He could feel the burst of cool fluid hit his stomach shortly thereafter. At first he wanted to be ill; then he realized that he could feel himself healing somewhat, the pain in his arse flaring up bright and hot for a moment before fading away.
The thing came, again and again, until Dorian felt full to bursting. The tentacle withdrew, and Dorian managed to not throw up. Then it joined it's fellow in thrusting up his arse, and he screamed.
That was apparently within his power once again. Whatever the creature had deposited in his stomach had healed him enough for that, it seemed.
For a long, immeasurable, agonizing moment Dorian remained suspended, screaming, the tentacles sawing away as the creature's spend sloshed inside of him. He was well on his way to losing his voice once more, when yet another tentacle shoved its way down his throat.
He gagged, choked, throat moving fruitlessly in an attempt to dislodge it. Dorian bit down, but he couldn't even break the skin.
He should be suffocating. He felt like he was suffocating. But somehow or another, his lungs kept being filled with air and he didn't black out.
A third tentacle pushed into his ass. He couldn't even cry. It would take time, for whatever fluid had been pumped into him to work its way into his system: and that time apparently had not yet passed. All he could do was take it, let himself be taken, Erimond's pet abrading his passage even as whatever it had spent inside of him healed the damage.
It might have been hours, before the creature spent itself into his stomach again. It might have been hours before it happened a third time. Time stretched out, meaningless, until Dorian became aware that the tentacles in his ass were fusing together.
It wasn't long after that when he felt it: blunt, unyielding, solid, and being forced inside of him.
He still couldn't scream. He still couldn't cry. There wasn't a damn thing he could do.
Dorian felt like he was being split in half, slowly, the dull blunt thing the tentacles were depositing in him was too much, it wasn't possible, he couldn't-
The tentacles withdrew, the shock of air between his buttocks a new kind of pain he had little time to process before the creature dropped him unceremoniously on the floor and slithered away to Maker only knew where. Dorian sagged in on himself, curved around the bulge in his stomach, sobbing dryly.
"And so the cycle of life continues," Erimond said. Fuck, fuck, venhedis, it was an egg, it was-
"I suppose your father will get an heir out of you yet," he continued.
Dorian moaned, unable to summon the willpower to much more than that.
"Nothing to say to that?" Erimond drew closer, his feet appearing on the edges of Dorian's peripheral vision mere seconds before he was kicked.
Dorian grunted, and then straightened up just enough to glare at the man. The egg- the fucking egg, Andraste have mercy- shifted uncomfortably inside of him.
"Why don't you just kill me?" He rasped. There had been too much screaming and too little speech since he'd been captured (Maker, how long had that been now? Months? Years? It felt like forever.) for him to manage anything else. "You've killed everyone else."
"None of them were traitors," Erimond said. "None of them had ever claimed to love Tevinter while raising a staff against her. You did."
The guards dragged him back to his cell with the egg still inside. Dorian tried to find a way to curl up that didn't make it compress something painfully, but couldn't manage it. He passed out instead, which he supposed amounted to the same thing.
He dreamed of Skyhold, back when there was a sky to hold back, back when he was loved and protected and going to save the world.
The Bull was there. He wasn't really there and he wasn't really the Bull, but at the moment Dorian couldn't care for anything that wasn't the feel of being wrapped in his arms again.
"You can have this again, you know," said the demon wearing Bull's face.
"I really can't," Dorian said, though he didn't- couldn't- pull away.
"You wouldn't know the difference," he argued.
Dorian remained silent.
"Just give yourself to me, instead of having no choice about being taken," the demon pleaded. "Please, kadan. I could make you forget we ever lost. We could be so happy together."
Dorian sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed. If he wasn't awake when his tears ended, he could already feel the capitulation on his tongue.