Chapter Text
“Dorian?”
His name somehow managed to penetrate the fog of alcohol into which he had flung himself, though it took a few blinks before the man standing above him came into focus. As the features of a vaguely familiar man became visible, Dorian smiled and pushed himself away from the divan where he’d been lounging, reaching out to snake his arm around the other man’s waist. “In the glorious flesh, yes,” he said with a sultry smile. “Give me a few hours of your time, and you’ll wonder how you ever lived without me.”
The man chuckled and gently extracted himself from Dorian’s grasp. “That isn’t why I’m here.”
“No? Pity.” Dorian pouted a moment, then shrugged and raised the bottle of wine he held to his lips for one last swallow before starting a new one. When it was pulled from his grasp, he looked blearily at the man who’d taken it from him. “I say, that was uncalled for.”
The man tossed the bottle onto the divan and took Dorian’s arm. “Let’s get something besides alcohol in you for a few hours, hmm? There’s more to life than finding the bottom of every bottle you meet.”
“What could possibly be more riveting than wanton self-destruction?” Dorian protested, even as he was led out of the brothel to which he’d devoted far too much of his time.
Dorian knew he should be angry, furious even, at what Alexius had done. But the man standing in front of them, staring into the fire… Was this truly the same man he’d known? The Herald spoke with passion barely contained, every gesture a subtle threat, but Alexius simply sounded weary.
Unable to remain silent, Dorian finally asked, “Was it worth it? Everything you did to the world, to yourself?”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Alexius said in a broken voice. “All we can do is wait for the end.”
Dorian was rendered speechless. This… this broken shell of a man, how could this be Alexius? The man who had pulled him from debauchery, who’d given Dorian purpose and meaning in a time when he’d never looked beyond the next cock or bottle…
How could it have come to this?
He hadn’t noticed the emaciated figure crouching next to Alexius until Leliana grabbed him and set a knife to his throat, but the shock truly set in when his mentor called out a name in response. “That’s Felix?” A cold sensation sliced down his spine as he stepped forward, the anger now well and truly alive inside. “Maker’s Breath, Alexius, what have you done?”
“I don’t understand.” The ride in Alexius’ carriage - as well as the strong tea with which the Magister had plied his erstwhile guest - had done wonders for Dorian, and his head felt clearer than it had in a quite a while. The very fact that the man knew very well what Dorian had been up to, and still offered Dorian a place in his home, caught him by surprise. “Surely you’ve heard about my long string of failures? Most mages,” particularly my father, “would agree I’m not worthy of anything, much less a mentor.”
“I think you underestimate yourself, Dorian,” Alexius said gravely. “All I had to do was remove you from temptation and scratch the surface to find a remarkably intelligent young man. I could use someone with a mind like yours working with me.”
Praise. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to receive even a mild compliment, accustomed as he was to being his own best, lone advocate. A smile blossomed on his face as his back straightened. “Let’s talk some more about these projects of yours. I admit to being rather intrigued.”
“Oh, you might say that what I’ve been working on may yet change the world.” Alexius smiled and chuckled. “Who knows? I may just save you yet.”
And now Felix was dead, his blood soaking the stone in front of the fireplace, and Dorian was fighting alongside those who only knew Alexius as an evil cultist, a Tevinter Magister who served a terrible god and summoned demons. Their only hope for the world was to ensure this world never happened, and to that end, Dorian used every iota of his strength to bring his former mentor down.
After the final blow landed, however, and he watched Alexius crumple to the ground, he realized that it was a bittersweet victory at best. Even once Dorian figured out how to return himself and Martin back to the proper time, he would still face the same situation. Felix was going to die, and soon; he could no longer deny that, not now. Alexius would probably die, given the nature of his crimes. The Venatori were a rising power, a continuous reminder of the corruption of his beloved Imperium, and no one from Tevinter would lift a finger to stop them.
He wouldn’t be able to stand by and do nothing. He couldn’t. And that meant staying in the south, amidst people who had no reason to love him, and every reason to distrust him. It meant months, if not years, of deprivation and hard work and false smiles and fake cheer, for the dubious reward of doing the right thing.
Feeling a bit numb, he knelt next to Alexius and bowed his head. A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he looked up to find Martin standing nearby, an unexpected look of sympathy on his face.
“He wanted to die, didn’t he?” It was sobering, to say the words and know them to be true. “All those lies he told himself, the justifications… He lost Felix long ago. Didn’t even notice.” Am I guilty of the same crime? Dorian wondered silently. Shaking his head, he pushed himself to his feet. “Oh, Alexius.” The regret was heartfelt, for all that he hoped to ensure that this would never come to pass. He already knew that his former mentor, his one-time friend, had started down this path of his own volition. It would be hard to forget that.
If he ever could.
More arguing. Naturally. It seemed like the arguing hadn't stopped since they'd left Redcliffe and its horrors behind, as everyone both in their party and back in Haven seemed to have an opinion on Martin's decision regarding the mages. It was tedious, really, how these Southerners argued over the 'safety' of mages, when there was an entire nation to the North that demonstrated quite nicely that mages could, in fact, be trusted just as much as anyone else.
Which was to say, not at all, really. But magic wasn't the problem, was it? People were the problem.
His ears did perk up, however, when he heard Cassandra acquire that shut up and listen tone of voice he'd learned to recognize on their way back from Haven. "The sole point of the Herald's mission was to gain the mages' aid, and that was accomplished."
Relieved that finally someone had pointed out the obvious, Dorian stepped forward and inserted himself into the conversation. "The voice of pragmatism speaks! And here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments."
He suppressed a smirk when Cassandra turned to him, keeping his expression affable as the discussion continued. Finally he couldn't hold himself back any more, and stole another opportunity to interject. "Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do. Orlais falls. The Imperium rises. Chaos for everyone!"
The warrior - their Commander, yes, Cullen - scowled. "One battle at a time."
Dorian frowned. He'd seen and heard a great deal about the Inquisition while traveling back to Haven with the Herald, and it spoke of an organization as yet woefully unprepared to counter the threat on the scale they'd seen in that haunting future. Whoever this Elder One is, he is not going to be stopped simply because Alexius capitulated to the Herald. Cults were rarely so easily defeated, as Dorian well knew, and he had no reason to believe the Venatori would be any different.
The information he'd tracked down before returning to Haven to offer his help against Alexius one last time had been more than a bit disheartening. For all that Cassandra insisted that closing the breach was the most immediate concern, Dorian knew, with absolute certainty, that dealing with the Venatori was by far the larger concern facing Thedas.
A pity we don't know who the Elder One truly is, he mused idly.
All those thoughts were mere flashes in his mind, of course. His main attention was on the conversation, and when the Lady Ambassador invited Martin to a War Council of some sort, he couldn't resist butting in one more time and reply as if she'd been talking to both he and Martin the whole time. "I'll skip the War Council, but I would like to see this Breach up close, if you don't mind." He hoped they wouldn't mind - if studying the rift had been so fascinating in Redcliffe, both present and future, he could only imagine what the Breach must be like. A veritable banquet of bizarre magical coincidences and impossibilities, I presume. Those are always the most invigorating to study.
Martin raised an eyebrow. "Then you're...staying?"
Since the prospect of studying unknown magic made him feel a little giddy, his remark was more than a tad whimsical. "Oh, didn't I mention? The South is so charming and rustic. I adore it to little pieces."
He expected either a rolling of the eyes, or perhaps even a shake of the head, so the genuine half-smile that came to Martin's face surprised him completely. "There's no one I'd rather be stranded in time with, future or present."
"Excellent choice!" Dorian replied affably. "But let's not get 'stranded' again anytime soon, yes?"
Martin chuckled silently even as Cullen began talking again, and Dorian eased himself away from the gathering silently.
The whole exchange left him baffled, but then, the Herald was a difficult man to pin down. Stoic had turned into complicated, and complicated into almost friendly - a far cry from the grim-faced man he'd first met. It left Dorian a bit uncertain as to where he stood with the Herald. He'd been perfectly content to offer his services as simply another cog in the Inquisition, a mage in the line to drive back the endless night of the Elder One, when he'd first come to Haven, but now?
You're just being foolish, Dorian. Why would the Herald of Andraste wish to be friends with the pariah of the Imperium? As he considered the notion, a hesitant smile came to his face. And if that were true… perhaps I won’t be so desperately lonely in the South after all.
The thought helped his smile linger even when he emerged into the frigid air of Haven, and he stood in front of the Chantry for a moment with his hands on his hips. Then he nodded.
"Time to do the right thing."