#v.magisters and dragons

[altusofhousepavus]

continued from here , @fadewalking

"One has to commend the commitment to the act. It is quite unfortante those elvhen apostate hobo rags did not protect you from your emotions. " Dorian pointed out. He was not sure if the hint of bitterness was stemming from regret, resentment or something else entirely. "However, you may want to know Vivienne owes you some royalties. She put out a line of and I quote chic hobo dread wolf clothing. It was a summer hit." he gave the other man, god? , a smile.

At the striking figure, he did put a hand on his hip, maybe posing a bit. One could not chase his nature. Dorian chuckled. "In over a decade, all you can come up with is my hair ? My, my , my dear handsome wolf, mark me flattered of such words. " he sratched his beard. "Though, I do agree, progess is not linear. " He looked up at the sky. "Otherwise, we would already know the ending to all of this, I suppose. "

[altusofhousepavus]

@frigiddetective

Breaks. A word that neither of them really knew how to apply to their life. Yet, sometimes they were necessary. Even more so, when you were facing a world ending threat, and an internal fight for a city that did not want to save itself, but had become the center of the Tevinter Imperium.

As he handed the fried fish on a stick to Neve, he had to smile. As much as his house and himself were known here, as soon as he changed clothes for something more humble, no one paid much attention to him. Sometimes, he missed that. Being unknown. The whole appeal of the south, that and fleeing his family. "So, detective, what news - non veilguard related - do you bring ? " and by news, he meant the last gossip , may it be fashion, who slept with who or otherwise.

[altusofhousepavus]

The masses had gasped, he had been the center of attention for months, the funeral of his father reconnected him with what felt like all of the Imperium. He had escaped the Venatori and had claimed his seat as Magister. That was 8 years ago.

Feared, despited, envied, admired , eyes were constantly on him when he walked the halls of the Magisterium. He just commanded the respect and space , not only because he was a Magister, not only because he was a Pavus, but because he was a determined man. Many had a lot to lose to the mage who would defy them all.

The halls were quiet on this late evening , the session at the senate was mostly about city security and most had agreed on different measures. He had stopped to watch the city below. From up here , its flaws seemed non existent, from up here the suffering was muted , it was just a strange and beautiful mixture of ancient architecture going into more modern and modest abodes. His eyes went on the horizon and he allowed himself to feel the longing , there, in the south, was his found family. He could feel the sending stone on his chest, safely tugged away. However, as he heard footsteps near him, he put it all away and turned his head, only to see another magister. "Cousin @bloodofoldtevinter" he greeted, the term used loosely as they were some distant relatives. "still at work at this late hour ?" he asked.

[altusofhousepavus]

@reining-disaster sent : "What do you mean it's not good?!" Rein looked down at his outfit. He thought he looked nice. The royal green did bring out his skin and hair colors, but the suit was baggy and the fabric was cheap, "What's wrong with my outfit!? You said green, I got green! How high brow is this stupid place we're going, anyway?" Rein was a funny thing. Sporting a posh, upper class accent with such crude language.

***

Dorian was mid pose, a hand on his hip, the other held by his face. "The color choice is not the problem here . " On that he did agree, the green suited the young man - the rest was the problem. He looked him up and down and down and up. "You look like you took someone's curtains and made a mock of a suit out of it. What even is that fabric. " The distaste could be seen on his face. Despite being more mature, he could not tolerate a fashion faux pas. It made his soul die inside every time his eyes were attacked by someone who could not fathom simple clothing concepts.

"You will be introduced to those with the most interest to keep the Imperium afloat. May it be noble as it is, you need funds for your little adventure party to save the world. No pauper has ever done so. " He sighed and took a step forward. "I'll see what I can do to save..." his hand made a motion. "this. "

[altusofhousepavus]

@theredconqueror liked for a starter

The flames were dancing peacefully before his eyes. A perpetual motion , at times disturbed by a breeze . However, the erratic reaction eventually vanished. This dance projected into the room its warmth and another play of light and shadow. Dorian was truly lost in his thoughts. He rarely let himself reflect on past decisions, past events. It just hurt most of the time when you had a tendancy to focus on all that took a piece of your heart. War, it seemed, was also a never ending cycle. Sometimes justified, sometimes just cruel, but always forcing a change, for the better or the worse.

By the Maker, why did it have to be worse than when they started. For one Venatori killed, for one magister turned, 10 steps were taken away from them. The magister sighed and rubbed his neck. He knew that his break would come to an end as his late afternoon appointement would eventually make himself known.

[altusofhousepavus]

@nekrotisch

After Varric's death, Neve had reported that Varric was dead. Being in the north and , Dorian being the closest to handle this, he had. He had planned to bring Varric back home, to Kirkwall, where the dwarf had made a name for himself and a home - given the stories he had told - however, this had soon not been possible, as Kirkwall had bene evacuated.

A choice then had to be made. As much as Varric was a grandiose narrator, he had not really left what to do after his death. Dorian had sent letters to all of the Inquisition, but also those Varric spoke fondly of when he ventured with Hawke. Not everyone was there at the pyre , when they let him go. They would erect a proper memorial for him once this was over, for now, Bianca marked the spot he had died , and where people could come should they wish.

That is where he had brought Rook when she had asked about Varric. The ceremonial site was quiet, the sun was out and showed the colors of the stone and nature. It all was such a serene picture, in stark contrast of that night. He stared in silence at the broken crossbow and the flowers put around it. "I have not asked, but how did you and Varric meet? "

[altusofhousepavus]

The title made him cringe and die a bit on the inside. Even after a decade of this, he was still not used to it. It did not diminish his love for the little girl now grown a wonderful woman, but still , he never thought in a million years to be a father - especially with the one he had had.

He welcomed the hug and held her back. A rare smile was painted on his lips. One only the Inquisitor had the priviledge of seeing. It was warm, genuine. And it disappeared as soon as the hug was over. He was not about to be caught being soft . He listened to her, looking at how neatly organized all was. His glance came back on her.

"Don't be. " he objected. He came closer and put his hands on her arms. "Follow your instinct, make mistakes, discover things about yourself so grand and so gross that you question all of it. What is important, is that you are gentle with yourself and show strength to face consequences when needed. Other than that, have fun - even if it's the end of the world , what better time to do so, mh ? " he put a kiss on her forehead. "Shall I give you a hand with your baggage , cupcake?"

@altusofhousepavus sent: “ you were going to leave without saying goodbye? ”   to his daughter from Dorian (cause you know you live for that you said) from 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

Her Papae had given her a job to do and she was going to do it. She was to help Rook and the group working with Rook to stop the Evanuris from destroying the world. Elera knew it was a lot but she was more than happy to help be a bridge, along with Harding, to the Inquisition. She had her aunt's notes and information, as well as other important documents from the Inquisition which would be of assistance—

"Papa Dorian!" She exclaimed as she was pulled out of her thoughts. She had been so focused on packing, even though she had hoped to see him when they came to Minrathous, she had completely forgotten. In a flash, she had thrown her arms around him in a hug.

"No, of course not!" She told him. "I just had to make sure all my items were in order, organized by the date found as well as the historical date and..."

She trailed off, amber eyes looking up at him with warmth. "I'll be careful, you know."

[altusofhousepavus]

Dorian gave him a small smile. "Something like that. " he whispered. The smile soon left his features, as he just observed the kindness Jaskier was giving him. The kiss, it felt like a feather on his knuckles. It brought back memories of - not simpler times - but a high - that's all he could describe his youth to be a high of everything but mostly self soothing destructive behaviour.

He also thought he had done a good enough job to push Jaskier away, to be hated and forgotten, another altus of Tevinter. However, it seemed he was not as cruel as he thought he could be. His time with the Inquisition showed him as much.

Because of his behaviour he had let so many people down, out of spite, willingly or not. At the mention of Meav, a wave of pain washed over him, not because of his injuries, no , it was reality. The reason he was there in the first place : his father was dead, he was now a magister. Something he swore to never be. And , also he had not come back for Jaskier , but that he did not tell the other man. "Well..." he swallowed. "It is the second time you help me escape a prison. It's starting to be a pattern it seems. " he joked. "Thank you. "

He took a deep breath. There would be time to talk, but he did not feel like doing that now. "We're ...on a ship ? I hate sailing...." he did have to rant as he felt the vessel move.

He had hovered over the care of Dorian the entire time, helping where he could, but he was no mage himself. He wasn't even really a fighter of any sort, but he was good at getting people in and out of places. He'd done it for the occasional Thread here and there looking for a quick escape, he'd helped a few slaves here and there to finding freedom, but he was not a fighter.

Thank the Gods that Dorian was.

When Dorian squeezed his hand, Jaskier's bowed head shot up with eager eyes looking to the other man, searching over his face, his own fraught with deep worry. A relieved, shaky sigh escaped from his lips when the other man spoke and he gave a small laugh, trying not to let the heartbreak in his voice come forward to quickly.

"What, just because you ran away to the South and broke my heart, becoming a hero, and then didn't even write me once, you think I'd leave you to rot in a Venatori prison?" Jaskier's words were a mix of sarcastic teasing and a hint of forgiveness in there as well. The smile on his lips was sad, melancholic, but it was there nonetheless, and he couldn't help bringing the mage's hand gently upward to press a tender kiss to his fingers.

"I came to your aid because it's you, Dorian..." Jaskier said softly, pursing his lips a moment before bringing his hand up to brush his scraggly and unkempt hair from his eyes, his beautiful eyes that Jaskier never thought he'd see again. "Maev came to me, she asked for my help, how could I say no?"

[altusofhousepavus]

"You have the honor of first discovery. " Dorian lied. He lied because he had already combed through it, understood most of it. He studied it , and found it too fascinating. However, as stated, he was here to escape his role, the city, the duties. He who had fled the cage, was now forced to be in it to destroy it from the inside. He feared that the task he had taken upon himself might be too big.

So he just needed to be a nobody. After handing the book, he stayed at arms length and let Emmrich discover the book. His gaze wandered on the shelves. So much knowledge. School books. Memoirs. Old registers. Artefacts. Quite the collection that he brought with him. He dared to explore a bit, not far, a hand went over a skull. He felt the frizz of the spirit world on it, his fingers shimmered with a green hue, as he seemed to caress flesh that was not there anymore. He continued the motion until he felt peace and an energy lean into his hand. The mage brought his fingers together to a fist. The motion so delicate , second nature.

He remembered being a boy, and being taught by Emmrich. He was so impatient, saw the spirits as tools. Things had changed. "I'm sorry for the troubles I gave you as a student. " the worlds left his mouth before he could decide against it. He turned to glance at Emmrich. " Your patience and calmness was a welcome shelter from the harshness of exceptations. " he admitted. "But I realise I was a total twat. "

The name drop made him pause. Somehow, he had almost forgotten that Dorian knew Solas personally—a detail that seemed almost too strange to reconcile with the man of such incomprehensibly grandiose myth.

Briefly, Emmrich wondered what the elf had been like—his personality, likes and dislikes, if he ever told any jokes and if they were actually funny. Yet, it felt intrusive to press Dorian for answers, especially if those memories carried the sting of betrayal. Such a subject would be best approached delicately, if the moment ever allowed.

For now, his attention returned to the book. He offered a polite chuckle at the jest, careful to mask his curiosity beneath the veneer of casual amusement.

As the grimoire emerged, his brow lifted, drawn to the intricate patterns pressed into its leather cover.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, taking the book in hand and bushing the tips of his fingers thoughtfully over its surface. “Have you yet attempted to decipher its secrets, or is the honor of first discovery mine?”

[altusofhousepavus]

The mage could see the storm of thoughts behind those eyes. He could push and crack this porcelain doll and probably sway him to not do it . He could feel it. The imposed composure. What a tragedy. What a disaster. The smile that Dorian gave to Solas as he thanked him was a sad one. "No you haven't. " he agreed, his voice much softer than before. "Things really are dire, if you admit I am right." he joked and chuckled .

He sat back, his hands in front of him , his eyes going from Solas to a point in front of him. He needed a minute to digest what was said. The Veil had to come down. It was true, that Solas would not be doing this without having a plan to control its fallout. For all the lies he had told, he had not lied on his objective. Maybe the way to break the little wheels of tyranny and misfortune was to redestribute the cards, reestablish the world as it was and see what would happen. In the 8 years of fighting for what he thought was the right to do, the resistance was always coming from how things had been established. He detected no malice in what Solas wanted to do. Dorian lacked the perspective the other had, he did not know what had been lost. "Okay." he breathed out. "..okay..." he repeated.

His eyes met Solas' again. "Then you need to know this. They are planning to trick you with an identical dagger to yours and bind your life force to the veil." To many what he had just said , made him a traitor. To him, he made a choice to even the odds. He stood up. "I will find a way to delay them, but I cannot keep them from trying to stop you. " he stopped . "I do hope to see you on the other side of this, so we can rebuild a healthy future as allies ...friends... family. " he stated and nodded. "May you find the strength you need, Solas. " and as he walked away, the decor started to crumble around him. None of this truly existed. It all was a dream, a dream he walked into and shaped for a single conversation.

The touch was unexpected. Solas’ fingers twitched with the instinct to retreat, but he resisted, letting the motion die before it began. His eyes dropped to Dorian's hand. The gesture seemed platonic, but something about it still felt... complicated. Even after all this time. Oddly, he found that complexity comforting. That even in the face of horror on such an apocalyptic scale, there could still be room for something as simple—and as tangled—as whatever had existed between them.

Hindsight had always been sharper for Solas, though that was a convenient excuse. He had not been oblivious. He remembered the lingering glances—some of them shared—and the double entendres dressed up as clever quips.

Cole had seen it too. He had practically begged Solas to let him help, to let him reach deeper and share the pain so Cole might soften the edges of Dorian’s confusion. He never did. Maybe Solas had been right to spare him the agony of this moment, it was painful enough without the burden of a deeper intimacy. Or perhaps it had been easier to build a wall from the sins of Dorian’s ancestors than to let himself see the man behind it.

Who was he to judge Dorian for lingering on past regrets? Maybe the truth was that Solas avoided that particular mirror because he knew he would not like the reflection. It was too easy to see his own flaws. Cowardice. Like with so many other things. Dorian deserved better. He had proven it, not that he ever should have needed to.

But none of these confessions mattered. Not anymore. Maybe in another life, something brilliant might have existed between them. Solas had ruined this one.

Yet here Dorian still was, hand on his, offering him comfort when, if anything, the roles ought to be reversed. Who was he to be soothed? Much less forgiven.

The sentiment was kind but hollow to him. Forgiveness was not Dorian’s to give, nor Solas’ to grant himself. These regrets were meant to be carried, borne like millstones around his neck until they crushed him. It was only right.

If he could not atone, he could at least suffer.

Here, again, was the mirror Dorian held up to him. This time, Solas did not look away. His eyes found Dorian's again. Solas remembered the conversation, of course. And he had been right then—nostalgia was pointless. As was wallowing when it was time to act. He would carry his regrets, but he could not let them sideline necessity.

He was almost reluctant to give up the comforting weight of Dorian's hand, but he offered no protest. His fingers curled inward slightly, a gesture to self-soothe, as he pulled himself back to composure.

"Thank you, Dorian. I... have never made anything easy for you. I would acknowledge that, at least." He dipped his head in a vague motion, as if nodding to words unsaid.

"But I have always admired your resolve for change, your defiance against what others deem immovable. And you are right, as you often have been. It is a mistake to walk forward while looking back." He pressed his lips into a thin line, a tense, tired smile. The best he could do.

"The Veil must come down... and it is my sincere hope that whatever comes after does not break that resolve. This world needs you. And for all my plans to restore what I have broken, I would hate to see it bear losing you."

[altusofhousepavus]

There was something quite pecular about the rest of a wounded man. It was so similar to death that one had to see if the other was even breathing. Dorian rested , cuddled by the sea . Ironically, he hated travelling by sea. It took almost all the potions brought to stabilize him physically. Undoing damage was a craft and care that required patience. Bandages, cleaning the wounds, there was an acute care to give to make sure Dorian would survive until they got home.

The mage woke from his death like sleep to feel a hand holding his. He instinctively squeezed it. Forcing himself to consciousness was not easy. He swallowed with a grimace of pain. He could feel the weight of his body, and how even the slightest movement caused discomfort. His last thought came back to him. That face. Older. Longer hair. Caring and frightened blue eyes who wanted them both to be brave. Dorian opened his eyes.

The world was a blurry mess at first. However it came slowly into focus and as he turned his head, there he was. Sitting by his side. Jaskier. Temptively, Dorian tried to talk. "You came - " he said in a hushed and raspy voice. "- to my aid...why?" Why would he put himself in harms' way after all that had happened between them.

Dorian thought that he would be glad for this punishement, mostly because he knew deep down how much he had hurt him. He didn't deserve this kindness, and still, despite Cole's best effort, did not believe he was worth saving or good enough to even have the hope that someone would come for him.

Jaskier was deciding very quickly that this rescuing business really was not for him in the slightest. If it wasn't for the fact that it was Dorian he was rescuing, he wouldn't have even been there. He still had been tempted to not be there, their last conversation hadn't gone over the smoothest. The bard had been so heartbroken over it all that he'd even written a song about it, and regretted that it had grown mildly popular among the other buskers in the city.

When they returned home, if they returned home, Jaskier vowed to pen an entirely new piece, one that spoke of the daring rescue. But first that rescue had to be completed. At least Dorian was drinking the potion, and Jaskier was right, it was just enough to give him the strength so that Jaskier could get them out of there.

"Come on, Dorian, just a little further... almost there..." Jaskier tried to encourage him, tried to keep the fear out of his own voice as he half-dragged Dorian outside and towards the waiting boat. The mage stumbled, nearly taking Jaskier down with him, but he caught Dorian as best as he could and looked down at him with desperate worry and urgency. "Don't stop now, we are so close, just stay with me, Dorian..." Jaskier said softly, his bright eyes darkened by the worry held there for the mage, his mage. And suddenly there was that recognition from the other man, and Jaskier's breath catching his in throat as he nodded with a slow smile, reaching his own hand out to brush straggled hair from Dorian's face.

"You can... and you will..." His head snapped up, though, when the voice of their ally reached his ears, and he felt Dorian slump against him, seemingly out cold.

"Hurry! And be careful, he's in bad shape. I managed to get a potion in him, but he'll need more than that..." Once they were all finally on the ship, with Dorian tucked safely into a cot in the hold, Jaskier sat by his side and held his hand. He'd stay there at his side the whole sail home if he had to, he was just relieved to have Dorian safe and away from the Venatori.

[altusofhousepavus]

Dorian listened, and while he listened, he could not hide the surprise in his eyes at the first relevations. Solas? A spirit ? All elvhen were spirits? Made physical through Titan's might. He understood now what Solas meant with the danger of such knowledge. However, it made much more sense with ancient scripture he had read. Where time had forgotten part of History and filled it with things that did not make sense.

As he was listening to a tale that had made Thedas what it was, he noticed how vulnerable Solas was, from the eyes down, from his hands so tight he thought he was going to break the table. This was not the man he had first met 10 years ago. This was someoen who never had a chance to live, only served and tried his best to fix behaviours that weren't his to fix.

There was a beauty in the tragedy that was spoken before him. His heart tightened. Old longings were coming back. He wanted to hold him, he wanted to show him that he was not alone , in a way he knew how. Dorian , however, did not move. Scared to scare a delicate creature away. And he did not hold Solas' heart. As Cole told him - in passing - Dorian did not have the right ears. So he never pursuit whatever brewed in his heart, despite longing to . So , he simply always engaged in highly technical magical questions and debates. So he could enjoy how animated and with a hidden excitement Solas explained his views of the world.

There was no excitement at all now. Only a bitterness for all involved. At the end of his explanation, Dorian rached a hand to put it on Solas'. " Solas, you were faced with impossible odds, and tasked to find a way to fix it. You did the best you could with what you knew at the time. " The mage licked his lips. "Do you remember, when I apologized for Arlathan...what you said to me ? " he asked. His blue eyes were still on his friend, warm, still not seeing him as an opposing force. "Empires rise and fall. Arlathan was no more innocent tan your own Tevinter in its time." he repeated, Solas' voice echoing in his mind. " Your nostalgia for the ancient elves, however romanticized, is pointless. " He paused. "Then you told me that if I wisehd to make amends for past transgressions, to free the slaves of all races who lived in Tevinter...I wasn't sure I could...and you said...how sorry was I ?"

A small smile painted itself on his lips. "I did ...free the slaves. " He squeezed his hands. Yes Solas had put him on that path. He wanted to share this with him. However, he also wanted to remind him of his own words. " You were gone for a 1000 years , you never had a chance to live your real life, Solas. What mankind did , what the elves have become , those are the choices of past generations - not yours. If you think like this, then the creator of all things should be blamed to have created all - this realm - the fade- the spirits. "

He let go of his hand. "Solas, I forgive you - I know you can't forgive yourself. If you must tear down the veil, then please do it for the future, not for the ghosts forming the shadow of your guilt behind you. "

Banter referenced in DAI:

Dorian: Solas, for what it's worth, I'm sorry.

Dorian: The elven city of Arlathan sounds like a magical place, and for my ancestors to have destroyed it...

Solas: Dorian... hush.

Solas: Empires rise and fall. Arlathan was no more "innocent" than your own Tevinter in its time.

Solas: Your nostalgia for the ancient elves, however romanticized, is pointless.

Solas: If you wish to make amends for past transgressions, free the slaves of all races who live in Tevinter today.

Dorian: I... don't know that I can do that.

Solas: Then how sorry are you?

Solas sighed deeply. He was stalling, that much was true. But it was clear now that he would not shake Dorian's resolve. His gaze fell once more to the untouched tea, its rippling surface offering no solace. After a long pause, he finally spoke.

"As you wish it, then. I suppose my first and greatest error was... choosing to exist." Already, he hated this. This vulnerability. Closing his eyes for a long moment, he drew a slow, steadying breath, feeling as though he were a sinner confessing sins 10,000 years overdue, knowing full well no absolution awaited him on the other side. He could not be entirely honest. There were some truths too raw, even now. But he could skirt the edges, speak around the sharpest pain. It would still hurt, but he could bear it.

“Physically manifesting, leaving the spirit I was, happily, in the Fade. I had a reason, of course—to more directly challenge the tyranny that Elgar’nan and the others sought to impose on my people.” He shook his head. “But the cost was terrible. The bodies we formed, we crafted from the blood of the stone; the Titans, and naturally, they defended themselves. The Elvhen were powerful, but against giants of pure lyrium? We stood little chance. My people would have been eliminated for my lapse in judgment." Solas' brow furrowed, keenly recalling the memory despite the ages that had passed.

"So, I devised a plan. With the ritual dagger—the very same that Rook came to possess—I severed the Titans’ connection to their dreams, to the Fade itself. And in so doing, I…” He faltered, shame dripping from his words, his gaze still fixed on the tea before him. He could not meet Dorian’s eyes.

"You have met those they call Tranquil? It was not too unlike that, only far more insidious. Death would have been kinder compared to what I achieved. It won the war, but the consequences were... unimaginably worse. The dreams I severed became corrupted—twisted by fear, grief, and anger at what I had done. They blighted everything they touched. We thought we had sealed it away underground, but once again, I was wrong.

Somehow, Elgar’nan unearthed it and, in his arrogance, believed he could control it. He convinced the others of its power, and slowly, it transformed them into the corrupted monsters you have seen them to be. They would have spread that corruption not just across my empire, but the entire world. The very stakes they threaten today.

And just as action is necessary now, so it was then. I had to stop them in the most permanent way our immortality allowed. And thus, another mistake in a long, repetitive line: I constructed the Veil, but in my haste, I miscalculated its intricacies. I had only meant to imprison them within it, not...." He trailed off, not wanting to revisit the part Dorian already knew.

He scoffed, bitterly and full of a guttural self-reproach. "A wicked irony. All of the forces that threatened my people... And it was I who ended them." A tear fell, unbidden, and it splashed into his tea. "All of the evils I had saved them from... yet I was powerless to save them from myself." He brought a hand up to wipe his tears, forcing them away.

"The toll of the Veil's creation sent me into a sleep so deep, I did not see the full extent of what I had wrought for thousands of years. And when I woke…” His voice cracked. "My people... gone. The Elves that remained—husks of what they were meant to be, wrong and unnatural. Disconnected from the Fade. If that seems harsh to you, understand that it would not, if you could know what it was like to be so tied the magic of the Fade.

It was not something we drew power from, it was a part of our very being. Like air in your lungs or blood in your veins. If you had to go without, could you?"

His fingers curled tightly on the table as his voice hardened with a sound that was more accusatory than he'd wanted it to be, but he couldn't help himself. Dorian had asked for his truth, and this was part of it. No matter how difficult it was to hear. "And the horror did not end there. Your people hunting and enslaving mine, nearly to the point of extinction. Appropriating the remnants of my culture, turning it into a mockery of a mockery, and claiming it a sacred invention of their own." Though he still looked down, his eyes narrowed, anger threading through his words.

"Mages are now a rarity to be born at all, and those with the bad fortune to be born outside of your Tevinter are feared and treated as demons themselves. Spirits are bound, abused, and tortured when all they seek is connection. All of it, Dorian, because of me." His voice trembled and he paused, letting the weight he felt hang heavy between them.

"How could I stomach that? Could you? Could you stand idle and watch everything you have ever cared for be choked out before you, knowing it was your hand that pressed them under heel?" His other hand gripped his thigh tightly, nails digging into flesh, though he didn’t notice the pain.

"And now? What am I to do? When I know the cost of restoration—and I do. You, and those we journeyed with, have made me understand it. But every move I have ever made has carried an unforgivable cost. That truth does not grant me the right to inaction. I must still answer for my mistakes, for my people.

What would I be if I accepted every cost that came before, except the one to undo my greatest failure? To restore the natural order I ended?" Again, he shook his head, finally lifting his eyes to meet Dorian's.

"I cannot stop. Whether you understand it or not, I cannot… just… stop. Not for anything."

[altusofhousepavus]

"The pleasure house will up for sale, if Madam is a title you want to add to your resume. What better nest to gather information and protect. " he suggested, although it was not serious talk. Just an idea in the wind. Maybe that idea could get back to the Shadow Dragons. However, even here on this rocky beach, he could not talk of the resistance openly. Everything had eyes and ears. Him, being here in Dock Town - well it was only a matter of time to be watched, attacked, stalked or called back.

"That my dearest Neve , is not for me to decide. " he admitted. "It is the Archon's choice. The Viper and I are trying to curate chosen candidates - but it is a fine and tricky dance. If the Archon's sees that the scale are not in his favor, we might lose more than just a favorable seat. " That is what happened to Mae. He felt responsible for that, but his friend assured him that it was not, that she was of better use that way.

Dorian nodded. "It is addictive, the game that it is to operate up there. " he pointed at the circle in the sky. " It is a perpetual chess game , and an ever ending prison to be in. " He smiled at the detective. "No you couldn't, but I am glad you can't, I would not wish this on anyone who has a free spirit and desire to protect the people. " He finished his fish. "But I have hope that we can change."

Neve could only roll her eyes at the term, face scrunching up in disgust immediately after. The word was...gross and she held no respect for the man in the first place but if that hole of disrespect could be dug any deeper it would have been. To hear of his short comings didn't even bring her joy though it did bring some change which was positive at least.

"If I can make a suggestion maybe find someone more...charitable? Or who at least takes more care with their 'employees'." Neve knew she was not in the place to really make suggestions or demands but that wasn't going to stop her. Most Magisters weren't exactly the best people and they certainly didn't feed stray cats or give food to the poor. Having someone that paid fair wages and saw their employee as more than just mindless workers was an ask that, while not impossible, would be a little bit of work. But Dorian was charming and Maevaris was smart, together they could easily find someone that was suggestible and could be pushed to being more fair, more human, and over time might be able to apply more pressure for the legal changes needed to make that the standard. Honestly Neve couldn't think of any two people better suited for this.

"The patience it must take to deal with all the politics, I admire you and Maevaris I mean it." Neve's voice was low and sincere, maybe even a twinge too serious for gossiping over fish. "Maker knows I couldn't do it."

[altusofhousepavus]

"That is true. " Though the words came out in agreement, he did not really believe them. Deep down, the guilt remained , and also the truth that no one could have saved either of those men from their choices.

The magister smiled. "Yes, keep his memory, feed it , share it to those you have to inspire. You'll need full convinction and unwavering support to win this war. No doubt."

Dorian chuckled. "Ah, well, he did. Cheated - and lost to the Inquisitor ...what a day... what a day." he recalled the memory fondly. "Don't be too harsh on yourself, he's a Kirkwall man, a sly old fox, you couldn't stand a chance. Try Emmrich if you haven't. I remember playing an evening when I was under his tutelage. The man has a mean game , fair play though."

"Hindsight is always crystal clear, who could have forsaw everything would happen? If it was a book it'd be declared implausable." She offered the comfort, if they knew what would have happened would she had let Solas complete the ritual?

"I guess. I have to remember everything that Varric, or rather Solas, said, came from Varric's infinite fount of wisdom. He always knew what to say to pick someone up to keep the fight going." Remembering the memory of when he gave her the mirror that still was among her most prized possessions. At least that memory was true, wasn't soiled with Solas's blood magic.

"Did Varric really get the Inquiition to play a game of Wicked Grace? He kept tell me I played worse than Curly."

[altusofhousepavus]

The fog around his mind, his perception , was maybe what was enabling him to continue. How long ? That was another question. He was still slipping between thinking this was happening, this was him going to his death and this was just another round of torture in another room. He could hear noises, but mostly he just felt the pain.

It did not stop. As they stopped, he closed his eyes again, feeling the pull to sleep. His name was spoken again, and all he felt was some kind of hard glass against his cracked lips. Thirst. He was thirsty yes. Automatically, he swallowed and coughed up half of the thick liquid of the potion. The dry irritated throught burned. Although it did so with a welcoming warmth.

He coughed, some blood came out, some spit and the motion of putting his chest forward almost made him fall forward. Then he felt it , the cold. He felt so cold. The shivers started to take over his body. It numbed the pain, not enough for clairty of mind, but he would endure.

He lifted himself from the wall. He still had not taken the time to look at that face or to truly hear that voice. The command was to go, for once he was doing what he was told. He moved a bit faster than before, less stumbling, but nausea was making the world spin around him. As they got out, the fog welcomed him and his savior. The fresh air filled his lungs. He cooler air was like a caress on his warm face. He could hear shouts, and saw motion, but it was all just a blurr of things too far for him to understand. His only certitude was the man he was holding on to. The man who had not left him yet, and seemed to want him out of there.

As the terrain changed, he lost his footing and fell. The muck and mud greeted him as the exhaustion took its toll on him. However this time, when the man coarsed him to get up, to move, he lifted his head. Blue eyes meeting blue eyes. There it was. Recognition. Dorian lifted a hand to the other's cheek, to make sure, it was real. His fingertips touched skin, real. He had not thought that face would be seen by his eyes ever again. His mouth opened, though no sound came out. His eyes did tell the other that he couldn't , he couldn't. A tear came running down his cheek.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone approach. More out of muscle memory than anything else, he lifted a hand, but no energy came out of it. Nothing and Dorian fainted. Not able to tell if this was a foe or friend approaching. "Jaskier ! By the gods, you've found him , let's get him on the ship. " a man came to Jaskier's aid, one of the trusted men Maevaris had sent to retrieve Dorian.

The way Dorian slumped against him had Jaskier faulter for a moment, but he caught him and held him up the best he could. He knew the others would be able to hold the Venatori off and buy them just enough time to get to the prison docks where a boat would be waiting for them, but the urgency was still great. Greater than Dorian was capable of, he worried.

"Shhh, it's all right, I've got you, and I'm getting you out of here..." Jaskier said quietly, determinedly, holding on to Dorian the best he could as the sounds of the fighting behind them faded away. Just a bit further now...

He stopped and helped Dorian with every stumble, with every heavy footstep that he had to drag the mage along to make. He had health potions, and if he could just get him to the boat...

He stumbled again, and Jaskier looked over his shoulder behind them. It was quiet, quiet enough he was willing to risk it. He paused their slow and painful pace enough to lean Dorian against a wall and pull a potion from his pocket, uncorking the bottle with shaking hands and bringing it up to the mage's lips. "Dorian... Dorian, drink this, please... it'll at least give you enough strength to get to the boat, then we can get you home..." He hoped the mage would take it of his own free will, but he would force it down his gullet if he had to. A loud bang behind him made him jump a bit and he looked back before his bright blue eyes were on Dorian again.

"Come on, love, drink up, it's time to go..."

[altusofhousepavus]

"I know. " Behind his cup of tea, Dorian was slurping the tea a bit more loudly than he should have. No, he had not forgotten. It was a subtle way to make Solas uncomfortable in this space he was allowing them to have. It was only fair. As he quietly watched him, he could see the tea had the desired effect. He was about to ask if something was wrong with the tea, but maybe it triggered Solas too much.

He knew Varric an unreliable narrator, had his ideas and values. He also knew why Varric had gone after Solas. Dorian had warned him that it was too late, that the path Solas chose , he would walk no matter what. Varric did not listen. Yet Dorian did not feel any ressentment towards Solas for this death. He knew it was torturing him as much as all the others, especially because it had been preventable yet inevitable given the characters. Looking for a reason to justify his death was only a lure to get Solas to talk.

All he had set in motion came to an abrupt halt with his fist on the table. Dorian , quiet up until that moment, set his cup down. The mage let him recover before speaking up. "I know of you what you were willing to share. So I know you are stalling and conflicted and truly sorry and so afraid, but most of all, you're exhausted. I am no holy warrior, nor am I judge or executioner. I told you what I seek. "

Some stories were not about heroes and villains, some did happen because of the hand that was dealt. One choice that could define History itself. He could relate as to how mistakes not even coming from bad choices could snowball into something bigger. He did not think there was any victory possible here. Not for Solas should he succeed, not for the Veilguard should they suceed. "Tell me what you are willing to share, truth or lie, it does not matter. Tell me about your mistakes and let me understand why this so important for you to suceed in it. "

Solas could not help but make a face at the tea. He couldn't tell if Dorian’s choice was meant to needle him, or if he had he simply forgotten his distaste. He stared at its surface, watching as the ripples offered him his faintly distorted reflection. The sight of his own weary, desperate eyes unsettled him, and after a moment, he had to look away. With Varric's name mentioned, Solas' gaze sharpened. He should have expected that, yet hearing the name aloud carried a physical pain to it. He flinched, his features twisting from the memory.

"Dorian... You must know... I never intended—" He sighed, unable to finish the thought. "None regret what happened more than I." He hadn't meant to kill Varric, only to wound him enough to stop his meddling. But intentions mattered little now. Varric should never have tried to stand in his way. It was foolish. Brave, loving, and foolish.

"But Varric made his choice, as have I—as will we all. Perhaps, to you, my success renders his death meaningless, and that is a wound I cannot salve for you. But for me, it is yet another reason why I cannot withstand failure. If I falter now, after all I have sacrificed, all who have sacrificed for me?" His voice wavered before he drew in a sharp breath. He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the table as his eyes shut briefly, trying to cope with a weight that always threatened to crush.

"If I am not strong enough to prevail, his death will have been for nothing. Can you not understand that?" He opened his eyes again, his voice hardening as his gaze snapped back to Dorian’s. "In all our time together, Dorian, do you truly think me so unfeeling that I would resort to such extreme measures if it were anything less than necessary?" His fist punctuated his words, as it came down on the table with restrained force, the sharp impact accompanied by the trembling clink of teacups. After a pause, he continued, his tone slightly more controlled. "I will give you my history as briefly as I am able, if you are determined to learn it. But heed this warning: If it is some measure of closure or justification for my actions you seek, you will not find it in my histories. I am neither a monstrous god seeking power at the cost of destruction, nor a hero fighting for a righteous cause. I am only a man—one who has made far, far too many mistakes. That is all there is to see in hindsight."