Chapter Text
Alexius’ days slid back into monotony without his notice. He received no visitors in the following weeks. No threats from the inquisitor or hesitant, emotional entreaties from Dorian. There was also no appearance from The Iron Bull to take his offer.
That wasn’t to say things around him weren’t changing. Even in his self imposed isolation Alexius wasn’t ignorant to the anxieties of the mages around him. Whispers of ancient elven ruins, Orlesian courtly intrigue, and something about a horse sized nug all managed to reach Alexius and while the horse sized nug did give him pause, nothing could entice him to ask further questions.
Until he heard that the Inquisitor and his party entered the fade. Alexius was pretty sure he had misheard at first, but it was enough for him to turn to the mage nearby who was speaking far too loudly to ask him to repeat himself.
“S-sorry?” The mage was an older man, probably not far from Alexius’ own age. He seemed as startled as Alexius felt to be addressed by the former Magister.
“You said they entered the fade?” He asked, voice coarse from disuse but firm from a lifetime of knowing who he was.
The man glanced over at Alexius’ constant shadow of a guard, but apparently received no instruction as he looked no less sure as he responded, “Yes, The Inquisitor and the Champion of Kirkwall, along with some of the Inner Circle.”
Alexius felt a stirring in his gut. If this mage was right, they were the first humans to approach the Black City since the Magisters of old. Since the Elder one himself blackened what once was gold. Wild curiosity flowed through him with an undercurrent of dread.
“Was Dorian Pavus among them? The Tevinter Mage?”
The southerner scoffed, looking irritated, “Yes, but good luck getting him to talk about it. His royal highness was very rude when we asked.”
There was a pause before the color drained from the man’s face, looking oddly frightened though Alexius had no idea why.
“Uh, not to, er, insult your fellow Tevinter, he is-”
Ah. Alexius resisted the urge to roll his eyes and simply turned from the stammering man, having no more use from him.
Dorian had physically entered the fade. The things he must have seen. With an ache in his heart Alexius thought of a time when he would have been the first person Dorian went to. There was a time when such a discovery meant an evening in Alexius’ comfortable study, glasses of brandy half drank and forgotten to the side as they spoke deep into the night about all the incredible possibilities of the world.
Now Alexius was an old man, tired and worn, crossing the impossible gulf of the library towards Dorian’s current haunt. It was clear Dorian had done the best he could to breathe some life into the space, cluttering it with books and candles and a chair that was probably a respectable piece of furniture once. He had even found an oud somewhere. Alexius wondered idly if he ever found time to play it.
They both seemed out of place here but one of them was making due.
Dorian didn’t appear to be busy as Alexius approached. He was leaning against the cold exposed stone of the wall, looking out the narrow window into the blinding daylight.
Alexius waiting for Dorian to acknowledge him but he either didn’t notice him or was choosing to ignore him.
“Dorian,” he finally said, clearing his throat.
His apprentice startled - not ignoring him then, just lost deep in his thoughts. He turned to him, surprised etched across his expression for a fleeting moment before eased into something more neutral.
“Alexius! To what pleasure do I owe your visit?”
“I heard a rumor that you entered the fade. Physically. Is it true?”
His expression darkened quickly, lips twisting in a way that reminded him of Felix. How many times had he seen that same expression when Felix recounted some gripe or another?
“One thing that connects people across all of Thedas- a love of gossip. Yes. It is true. Yes, we survived. Well, almost all of us. That enough is a miracle," Dorian waved his hand dismissively, stone faced.
“It is an incredible feat, Dorian! No one has accomplished such a thing-”
“Since Corypheus?” Dorian cut off, an ugly sneer tugging on his lips, “Believe me, I know. And it should not be repeated. This is what I was worried about. Others will get it into their heads that this is something to be attempted. And should they succeed, well, last time it happened they released a blight. Who knows what horrors could come next?”
Alexius frowned, studying his former apprentice. There was a time when Dorian would have been excited by the very concept of accomplishing such a feat. Of pushing such boundaries. He wasn’t sure he recognized this more cautious, cynical version of his pupil.
“But you did not release a blight,” He pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest.
“No, instead I fought horrors plucked from my deepest nightmares and watched a good man sacrifice himself to a painful, lonely death so that we may live. Forgive me if I wish to spare others such a journey.”
“There is no progress without loss, Dorian.”
“True. But who are we to decide who most lose? And even if I did feel comfortable making that choice, I surely don’t wish that knowledge to get into the wrong hands. It is better this dies with us.”
“By keeping it a secret you are making that choice. All discoveries come at a risk. There is comfort in safety but at the cost of progress, knowledge, a whole future of possibilities.”
Dorian stared at him for a long moment, longer than Alexius was comfortable with. Finally he looked away, shifting in a nervous way that was rather unlike him.
“Yes, there was a time when the thrill of exploration and discovery was paramount for me. There was a time when I believed that morality didn’t enter the equation - power was power and who held it made the difference. If a good man wields such power, then it was for the good of all.
I have since learned that there is no such thing as a good man. Good isn’t a… who you are, it is a choice you make every day. And even those who I considered to be the best of men are susceptible to making bad choices.”
Alexius felt his cheeks grow hot at the implication. Anger flickered like flames up his spine, an old friend welcoming him home. He should have known better than to approach Dorian. Everything would always come back to this.
“You dare make a judgement-”
“-It’s not about you, Alexius,” Dorian cut him off, looking older and more tired than Alexius thought he had ever seen him, “Not just about you, anyway. In some ways I feel like I’ve lived ten lives in just the past few years. I’m not judging you, not anymore. If anything, I feel like I understand you more than I have in a long time. And that’s why I choose caution.”
Just as quickly as it appeared the anger was doused and Alexius was left with nothing but the cooling embers of regret. Dorian was right, he had given up on being a good man a long time ago. He never questioned if his choices were good or bad - it was simply a matter of what had to be done. How many times had he thrown Dorian’s youth and naivety in his face? Could he fault the young man now for learning Alexius’ lesson?
The youth he knew was so quick to claim to be selfish and careless. Words he heard over and over from his family, his instructors - any who spent a moment’s time with him.
But Alexius knew the heart of him. It’s why his betrayal had hurt so badly.
“If there are no good men, then where does that leave you?” he asked.
Dorian’s stricken expression told him he had hit at the heart of his fears, fleeting as it may have been. Replaced quickly with a sharp smile and artful tilt of his shoulders.
“I never claimed to be a good man. Now I just know I’m not unique in that.”
Alexius looked around the small nook Dorian had carved out for himself in this drafty tower. The narrow design of the window meant for protection from the elements but did little to keep out the icy draft of the Frostbacks. Dorian’s clothes were impeccable as always, neat and fashionable, but signs of wear and tear were beginning to show. Patched, not replaced.
“Then what are you doing here, Dorian?”
Dorian’s mouth thinned and he looked away, “What I can, I suppose.”
Making a choice.
Dorian glanced back at the window, looking for something Alexius couldn’t see from where he stood.
“There was a time when I envied you. You had everything I wanted.”
Of course he had. Alexius had everything. A wife who was his best friend, who made waking up every day worth it. A son he loved more than life itself. The freedom to research and explore to his heart’s content, respect from his community, a life of luxury.
“I envy that man as well,” he said, words tired and slow.
How simple it all seemed, back then. There were struggles, of course. It was Tevinter. There was no shortage of problems laid at his feet but nothing had felt insurmountable then, not with Livia at his side.
“A pipe dream, for someone like me,” Dorian said with a humorless laugh, looking back at Alexius.
Who knew what he saw when he looked at him. A sad old man in hand-me-down robes, whatever fine features he once had eroded by the weight of a cruel world. Whatever Dorian saw made something in him soften.
“I am glad you had it, Alexius. Even if for too brief of a time. And I am… forever grateful. That you shared a bit of it with me. I would have died without you, Alexius. And maybe you regret it now, to me-” he cut off then, bottom lip wobbling.
Alexius couldn’t move, could barely breathe, Dorian once again having mastered the magic of time with just a few words so that he could freeze him in this very moment.
“I will always, always respect you.”
And Alexius knew when he said that, what he really was saying was I love you.
Oh, it burned. How it seared him to his very soul.
He ached to say the words.
I do regret you. I regret that I ever walked into that whore house. I regret recognizing you. Dragging you to my home. Welcoming you in like a son. Teaching you. Learning from you. I regret the hours Livia and I spent worrying for you. I regret the way you made Felix laugh. I regret seeing you grow into an incredibly capable young mage, more gifted than any I had ever seen. I regret shielding you from your Father’s fears. I regret shutting you out. I regret the things I said to hurt you. I regret betraying you. I regret loving you.
What he said instead was, “I see.”
Time restarted, the busy hum of the Inquisition around him marched on as ever, taking no mind of the two men standing just one step too far apart.
Dorian ran a hand over his face, fingers smoothing and re-curling the end of his mustache in a way that was so familiar to Alexius it brought another ache.
He remembered a breakfast out on the terrace, the Ferventis sun bright and warm. They had fresh juice from Alexius’ own orchards. As the memory flitteres through his mind the citrusy bite of it felt so strong. Dorian had been growing out his mustache and Felix was teasing him. Livia’s laugh was musical and light when she told Dorian that it was very handsome and maybe Felix was just jealous because of how he had struggled to grow his own.
As if from beyond the veil he felt a nudge from Livia.
“There was a time when I wanted that for you too, Dorian. I never wanted war for you. You deserved, deserve, something more fulfilling. Perhaps from whoever it is you keep looking for outside that window.”
Judging by the slight flush to Dorian’s cheeks Alexius had struck true. He frowned, thinking of the visit he had anticipated and had yet to get.
“Just tell me it’s not the Qunari.”
Dorian scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, shifting into a defensive posture, “I don’t see how it’s any of your business, or anyone’s, but yes. The Iron Bull and I are-”
Some things hadn’t changed, for all his puffed up posturing Dorian still struggled with any semblance of putting words to the emotional.
“We are exploring things. Together.”
Alexius sighed heavily, “This is one area of your life where I wish you were more cautious. He is-”
“He left the Qun.” Dorian cut off whatever it was Alexius was about to say.
Left the Qun? Qunari don’t do that. The ones who do become near feral. Alexius had read any number of reports about damages done on Sehreon from those not working with the Qun. Many in the Imperium believed they were still acting under the Qun but in claiming they weren’t gave the Qun some plausible deniability.
Alexius had never believed so, seeing how they operated so differently and often did just as much damage to the Qun forces as the Imperium’s.
“Again, not that it’s any of your business. But he left the Qun and I happen to know a thing or two about feeling disconnected with your homeland and having to leave it behind. We are both learning that we were raised with some incorrect assumptions about the world and each other-”
“Dorian,” he cut off the ramble he knew came mostly from trying to fill an uncomfortable silence.
He tried to protect Dorian and the Qunari didn’t take the offer. Apparently because he was no longer a Qunari. Alexius wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with that.
The awkward silences that had become a hallmark of their relationship returned once more.
“Was there anything else you wanted to discuss, Alexius?”
No. Yes. Everything and Nothing.
“No. I was simply curious about your time in the fade,” he paused, “perhaps, Dorian, you could put your cynicism on hold sometime and discuss with me your thoughts on it. Or other magical explorations you may be entertaining. No need to worry about it falling into the wrong hands, after all. These days my hands are conscripted to a very narrow area of study.”
“I would like that,” Dorian said slowly, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he heard.
“I would as well. You knew where to find me.”
He turned then, ready to be done with this encounter. How frail he had become, that a simple conversation could drain him. He felt like he could sleep for years.
That night Alexius’ dreams were pleasant, with the smell of citrus and laughter like bells.
***
The world did not end. The defeat of Corypheus spread through the keep swiftly, some jubilant with cheers and large smiles, others whispering as if they couldn’t fully believe it was true. The Inquisitor and his companions had done the unthinkable and their reward was tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
Alexius had no idea what it meant for him.
He had been ready to give those tomorrows away in the exchange for the sweet bliss of nothingness, but even that would be denied to him.
He kept to his room, having no desire to witness the celebrations. He knew of the return of the Inquisitor and his party from the sounds of cheers from his small window. That evening he watched the splashes of colors against the stone walls of the keep and heard the pops and fizzles of fireworks from his grey.
Dorian came to him in the warm oranges of afternoon light the next day.
Since their fraught conversation in the Mages’ tower they had several meetings over tea. Conversations varied from stilted discussions of their past to flowing excitement of the twists of the fade.
So it wasn’t his presence that surprised Alexius as much as his timing.
“I would think you’d still be celebrating your victory,” he said, watching Dorian carrying in a tray as usual.
He sat up straight then, the scent reaching him was not the usual spiciness of tea.
“Is that-?”
Dorian gave him a bright grin, pouring dark, fragrant coffee into the two cups he brought, “Antivan coffee. A gift from the lovely Ambassador Montilyet. She had been saving it for a special occasion and offered me some. I’m sure I owe her quite a bit now, but it’s worth it.”
Alexius took the cup, feeling the warm seep through to his aching fingers. He took a deep breath, smelling the rich roast. He hadn’t had such a luxury since he left Tevinter. There had been no time for sourcing coffee while chasing a miracle in the South.
“I owe you and her my thanks, then.” He doubted the Lady Ambassador would be interested in his thanks, but he offered it freely anyway.
“I knew there were few in this castle that could properly appreciate this with me,” Dorian said, a glint of conspiratorial mischief in his eyes.
“Ah, so that what brings you here instead of celebrating with your fellows?” He asked before taking a slow sip of the coffee. The rich bitterness seemed out of place in this dank room but matched his young companion.
“I assumed you had heard but thought you might wish to hear details.”
“You wanted to gloat, you mean,” after all, Alexius had once again been wrong while his pupil had backed the right horse.
“A little. It’s not everyday you defeat a blighted dragon or ancient Magister.”
He set his cup down, crossing his hands over his lap as he took in Dorian. A bandaged hand, a bruise on jaw, what looked like a bite mark on his shoulder, but no real signs of what he had just accomplished.
“You seem to have survived no worse for wear.”
“A credit to the potion makers and healers of the Inquisition, I assure you,” He winced, rotating his shoulder.
“I see. Well. Congratulations on your success, Dorian,” he said mildly.
The world wasn’t ending and Alexius didn’t know what to do with that.
“Thank you, I appreciate the enthusiasm,” Dorian rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee before making a pleased noise. He seemed to be in a good mood, one good enough to not pick a fight over Alexius’ reticence.
“And what now?” He asked. He wasn’t sure what he was asking. What now for the world? For the Inquisition? For Dorian? For himself?
“There’s still plenty of work to be done. Fereleden really has been turned upside down these past few years. And there are still some rifts to repair.” Dorian repeated as rote. Ah, so he had been considering this as well.
“So the Inquisition will remain for now. But surely it can’t be a permanent fixture - Fereleden and Orlais will never allow that. Standing army with a large contingent of mages? They must be shitting themselves.”
Dorian laughed at that, “They are rather nervous about us, aren’t they?”
You’re not one of them, Dorian. You never will be. Alexius thought to himself, watching Dorian fidget.
“The Inquisition or the mages?” he asked instead of voicing that thought.
“Both. I’m not sure what’s going to happen with all that, everything is so fluid right now. I suppose it depends on who is voted the new Divine. She’ll have a lot of say in what happens.”
Alexius frowned, “The Inquisitor will have his influence as well. I can’t imagine mage freedom is at the top of his list.”
Dorian blinked, seemingly taken off guard by that, “Well, yes, the Inquisitor is very influential. And from my understanding has been supporting his own choice for the Divine, however much that will affect things. He certainly isn’t anti-mage, though. He had an opportunity to subjugate the rebel mages after your interference in Redcliffe and offered them an equal say in their own fate. It’s half the reason I chose to stay with the Inquisition.”
“Indentured servitude with the promise of full citizenship was a far better offer than they would get here in the South. Even after all of this, do you really think these barbarians will respect that ‘equality’?”
“Indentured servitude, is that what you are calling it? Seemed far more like the opportunity to be twisted by red lyrium and serve as fodder for an army of an insane darkspawn,” Dorian said hotly, glaring, “Do you still really believe all that nonsense?”
Alexius searched himself for any of his old sharp anger or defensiveness and found none, “Mm. Perhaps you’re right. Based on my own interactions with the Inquisitor I still find it unlikely their future is any brighter here.”
“Maxwell isn’t fond of mages who try to kill him, that much is true. And yet he still had the grace to spare you.”
“He did so for your sake, Dorian. Not out of some magnanimous sense of mercy.”
Dorian fell quiet at that, a childish scowl still on his face. So he knew then. Or at least suspected.
“He needed them for this battle. He needed you. What happens now that he no longer has such a need?”
“You don’t know him. And you don’t know me. Not anymore,” Dorian said churlishly, glaring down at his cup of coffee as if it had personally offended him.
“No, I suppose I don’t,” Alexius admitted, “War changes us all.”
“Some for the better, I hope.”
Alexius suspected that might be true, for Dorian.
“You believe it changed him as well? That you changed him? You’ve been in the South long enough to know how they see us, Dorian. Even if you hate me for my interference, as you put it, I did not create the situation these Southern mages were in. Your Inquisitor may not have created it either, but he is a part of it.”
“Yes, well. Benefitting from a cruel system isn’t unique to Maxwell, as I have come to learn. What you choose to do about it once you’ve been made aware is what really speaks to your character. I like to think we’ve had a positive influence upon each other. Encouraged each other to get our heads out of our asses, so to speak.”
Alexius’ mouth twisted into a skeptical scowl.
Dorian mirrored the expression, though his brows knitted upwards with a concern unique to him, “You’re scared of him.”
“I left fear behind me a long time ago, Dorian.”
It had died with Felix. Whatever emotion he had felt for Dorian was something else. If he couldn’t name it, that was his own business.
“The Inquisition still has need of mages, especially those capable of the sort of research you can do. Even if some day it does dissolve, there are still many institutions south of the Imperium that could use your skills.”
But would his mind be his own?
“I won’t leave Skyhold without securing your place, here or elsewhere,” Dorian said it with such a look of determination on his face.
Alexius wanted to scoff. That was his responsibility, not Dorian’s. The man before him was so far from the young man he found, drunk and despondent in a house of sin, needing direction, needing boundaries, needing a father’s love.
As Dorian's mentor it was Alexius’ duty to secure Dorian’s place. To set him up for success, for a position where he could flourish.
It occurred to him, then, that perhaps he still could. There was still one task left to him in this phase of his existence. Maybe this was Livia and Felix’s doing, from across the veil. They would not see him join them until he fulfilled the promise he made to this young man years ago.
“You do not intend to stay in the South, then?”
Dorian bit his bottom lip, picking up his cup but not drinking it. Looking for something to do with his hands.
“I… there are things about Tevinter that I would see changed. I spoke to you before of the sickness that burdens our home. I can’t turn a blind eye to it, no matter how easy it would be.”
“You are to leave right away?”
“Eventually. Not right away. There are things here I need to wrap up. And… people that I’ve become very fond of.”
Alexius thought of the hulking figure that had stood just behind where Dorian sat now. How he never darkened Alexius’ doorstep again.
“Ah. Your Qunari. He can’t go with you.”
“No,” Dorian said firmly, as if it were a conversation he had already gone through, “He can’t. And he won’t.”
Alexius tapped his fingers on his desk, thinking to himself.
“I spoke to him, once.”
Dorian startled, coffee splashing over the rim of his cup. He cursed and stuck his fingers in his mouth, a habit Aquinea would no doubt scold him for.
“When did you talk to The Iron Bull?”
“He didn’t tell you then? Well, secrets are his work, I suppose that shouldn’t be a surprise,” he couldn’t help but get a little dig in. A reminder. Even if he had truly left the Ben-Hassarath, he was a danger.
Dorian rolled his eyes, setting his coffee down, “Alright, Alright. You brought it up for a reason, tell me what it is you discussed with him.”
“I offered him information on the Magisterium. All of my knowledge from my years as a Magister. In exchange for staying away from you,” he said, keeping his tone conversational and light, watching Dorian for any reaction.
He needn't look so closely, Dorian was hardly subtle with the way his jaw dropped, staring at him dumbly.
“You offered up Magisterium secrets. To the Qunari.”
“I offered them to the Ben-Hassrath agent who was insinuating himself into your life.”
Dorian stood up in an explosion of movement, gesturing wildly, “Why would you do that? You hate the Qun! You know what they could have done with that information! It makes no sense, you- you love the Imperium!”
Alexius settled back in his seat, watching Dorian pace in the small space, “The Imperium means nothing to me these days. What did it matter to me? Corypheus was going to bring in a new age anyway.”
“Then why do it at all? I don’t understand,” Dorian stood still then, arms crossed over his chest in a manner that looked almost more like a hug.
“I wasn’t sure, honestly. When I made up my mind to do so, even as I spoke with him. I was so angry with you. I hated you, even. Truly, in my heart. And yet… the idea of your future being brutally ripped away from you by them was something I couldn’t abide.”
Dorian snorted, “Oh, so you can try to kill me, but no one else can?”
Alexius laughed then, a raspy rare sound, “Something like that, yes. Childish, I know. It took me some time to really understand.”
Dorian stared at him for a long moment before he started to laugh as well. He let himself fall back into his seat, loose limbed with all the tension of the prior moments gone.
“What a pair of fools we are, Alexius.”
“Another conclusion that took me some time to accept,” he agreed.
“Why did you tell me about this? One last attempt to get me to break it off with The Iron Bull? I already told you that I’m going somewhere he can’t follow. I’d think you’d be satisfied with that.”
Alexius inclined his head, staring down at his hands, “During this conversation I’ve come to another realization, Dorian. I offered the information to the wrong person.”
“What do you mean?”
He forced himself to look up, catching Dorian’s gaze, “You’re going into hostile territory. It will be an uphill battle. I’ve always told you that knowledge is more powerful than any weapon. And I can arm you with that knowledge.”
Dorian blinked rapidly against a mistiness appearing in his eyes. Alexius was grateful he was able to hold it back. He didn’t think he could continue this conversation if he cried.
“Ah. They aren’t allowed to kill me either. Quite possessive of the right to my death, Alexius.”
He shook his head, “No. It’s not that this time, Dorian. My offer to the Qunari wasn’t about him, but this… this is about you. About who you are.”
“And who am I?” He asked, the hope and fear threaded in so tightly it made Alexius’ chest ache.
My son.
“A man who makes good choices.”
Dorian laughed again, the tension thankfully breaking, “Now that’s something I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone call me.”
“Everyone else are idiots,” Alexius replied easily, picking up his cup to drink leisurely.
“Now that’s the Alexius I know,” Dorian grinned at him.
And for the first time in a long, long time, Alexius knew that man as well.