Chapter Text
My dearest ally,
It has been far too long since I have seen you last in a well-enough state to fully remember the encounter, and of all the misdoings I have committed against you, I think that is the one I hold the most shame for.
I cannot supply you a list of every individual crime I might have inflicted upon you over the last year, for the sole reason that, admittedly, I remember very little of that time. One of the few clear memories I have is of vomiting on someone’s bed of zinnias - I believe they were yours. Sorry about that. They were lovely, I think. Besides that, though, I have only vague recollections of making a fool of myself at your expense whenever you provided me shelter from templars, my father’s dogs, and various others seeking vengeance for the misfortune of crossing paths with me.
And so, I apologize for the entirety of this past year. Deeply, and truly. My behavior was unworthy. I could make excuses about how I was not myself, but then it would sound like my father was writing for me. I can at least promise you that I am now sober enough to write my own letters. Good on me, yes?
I heard about
Dorian’s pen went still, leaving a blot on the page visible when he finally lifted it to think on his words.
It had been months since he had written her. The last time it was to tell her that her insistence upon reconciliation had finally gotten him to give in and seek out Alexius after their fight and seek peace, if only for Felix’s sake. Alexius hadn’t been responding to letters or magisterial matters for some time, and Mae worried that he had lost himself in his cause. When Dorian found the true cause of his silence, he hadn’t sent her a message. Instead, he simply slunk back into the slums and drank, leaving her to discover for herself that Alexius was not lost in his own mind, but in literality - he and his son had vanished.
Since then much had happened in Dorian’s life, and yet very little had truly changed. The only thing different now was that he was no longer free, held under house arrest in his childhood room to keep from bringing the family any more shame.
It was not a totally foreign situation for him. Admittedly, it had never been carried out to this degree; he had never been snatched by mercenaries and hauled onto a boat, drugged out of his mind with magebane and tranquilizers to keep him from killing everyone on that ship and sinking their corpses to the bottom of the Nocen Sea, and locked within his room with sigils and wards so neither he nor his magic could escape. But regardless, it was not completely unfamiliar.
And yet, during his drunken blaze of glory and his subsequent drag back to reality, Maevaris’s entire world had fallen and shattered. He had avoided writing this letter long enough with the excuse he could not think of what to say in the face of such a thing. He allowed himself only long enough to take a sip of his wine before forcing himself to continue.
I heard about Thorald. I wish I could at least say I came away from my time obsessing with Alexius knowing which words lessen grief, but I cannot. He was a good man taken far too soon. I wish I had not allowed Alexius and I’s hopeless endeavor to keep me from spending much time with him - I know he made you happy. The chantry brothers will tell you to be grateful for the time you had together, but to have so little with him and to lose him so suddenly is a kind of agony I cannot imagine.
He hoped she would not relate this to Felix’s sickness, if she replied. It was not the same. He refused to say it was.
I will not speak much upon this subject in case you believe it to be false, and if it is I apologize, you can imagine how difficult it is to judge the credibility of rumors one hears on the street or through locked doors - but there has been mention of the possibility that this was not an accident. It is tragedy regardless whether or not this is the case, but if you believe it might be - I am not foolish enough to think I could talk you out of vengeance, not after how thoroughly you dealt with your father’s betrayers, nor am I callous enough to wish to. All I ask of you is to be safe, Mae. I know you love him, but do not allow this to consume you or sully your reason. I beg of you, do not forget yourself.
I am sorry. I am sorry I did not write as soon as I heard. I am sorry.
Dorian let out a breath that emptied his chest. It did not feel right to speak of himself immediately after giving his condolences, but he knew she would at the very least be curious about his current circumstances. He compromised, and added it as a post scriptum after his signature.
P.S. - I write this from the room I grew up in in my father’s estate. Do not worry about me. I am well, albeit supplied with far less drink than I would like. I am unsure of how long it will be until I am permitted to leave - no doubt my family is desperately searching for some rehabilitation group willing to take in the infamous scion of House Pavus, let alone capable of bending him into shape and making him a honorable citizen of Tevinter and worthy of his future seat in the glorious Magisterium - but I promise that, if you wish to write, I will reply. Be well.
Dorian cleaned his pen and set it aside, screwed the inkwell shut, drained his glass, and with the weight of words unsaid lifted from his shoulders for the moment, he moved to a more comfortable chair to read as the ink dried.