Chapter Text
"Dorian," the elder Pavus called out to his retreating son. "Please don't go."
"Why should I stay?" Dorian said, not turning around. "I'll never live up to your expectations, father."
Halward sighed. "It's not about that anymore, Dorian. Please. Come home. If I had known that my actions would hurt you like this…" his voice faded.
"Had you known," Dorian raised his voice, turning on his father. "Father! You tried to change me! You tried to make me something I'm not! All for your fucking legacy! How the hell is that not supposed to hurt?"
The elder Pavus hung his head, another sigh escaping him. "Please allow me to make this right."
"There is nothing to 'make right'," Dorian replied. "Actions speak louder than words, father. Yours say that I will never be good enough for the mighty House Pavus." He spit the title out, all the venom of his pain and anger lancing through those two words. "I do, however, have a lover that has proven time and again that I am all that he needs. That I am more than good enough, though the Maker knows I don't deserve him. So if you don't mind, I would rather go home to him. The Inquisition is my family, now."
"Then at least take this with you," Halward said in resignation as he held out a heavy, ornately tooled scroll.
Dorian looked at the offered stack as if it were going to bite.
"It's a copy of the ritual I had used…"
Dorian took a step back, outrage and betrayal on his face. "How dare you!" he raged.
"Hear me, my son!" Halward protested. "I do this not to hurt you. There is a reason the ritual failed. Something was wrong with it. It was designed to fail," he said having finally gotten Dorian's full attention. "Or to do something else."
"What was it designed to do?"
"I don't know. I've discretely had the best scholars I can find looking in to the matter. But they have found nothing, nor do I trust any of our scholars back home. I bring this to you, in hopes that maybe you, that the Inquisition, may have better luck. I cannot say what was done to you."
"You don't know? How the hell can you not know?!"
"The blood mage that performed the ritual was blackmailed by Magister Erimond and has since disappeared. I fear he is dead," Halward answered.
"Erimond?" The name brought Dorian to a terrifying halt, his mind spinning in sudden fear.
"He attempted to recruit me for his little Tevinter supremacy movement," the elder Pavus continued, oblivious to the true implications of his words. "I can't remember the name. I refused. Somehow he found out about my decision to perform the ritual on you and found a way to gain his revenge for the slight."
"The Venatori?" Dorian gasped in realization. "He asked you to join the Venatori?"
"Yes," Halward nodded. "That was the name."
Dorian paled. Before their connection to Corypheus was revealed, the Venatori had been slowly building momentum in Tevinter for years. Many in the Magesterium had thought they were little more than crazed traditionalists until they suddenly gained a strong political standing just before the Conclave. Alexius had been among those that were the most vocal in outright refusing them. Then Felix had mysteriously fallen ill with the Blight and Alexius joined their ranks in hope of a cure for his only son. Dorian always thought the coincidence was a little too convenient. Trembling, the young man reached out for the scroll still held in his father's reaching hand.
"Father, what have you done to me?" he asked in quiet terror.
"I don't know, my son," the elder Pavus answered sadly. For the first time, Dorian actually looked his father in the eye and he saw the truth of the man's pain and regret. "I don't know. All I know is that I am truly sorry, and I must fix this."
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