Author's Notes:
I know that Magister Pavus gets a bad rap in Inquisition and rightly so; he did a terrible thing by attempting to 'change' Dorian. However, I challenge you to find someone who's a perfect parent and when fear overrides common sense, things can easily escalate out of control. So this one is for the imperfect parents who still love their children, and anyone who's ever made a mistake they wished they could take back.
Fathers and Sons
"You've been staring at that picture for hours…"
Halward Pavus looked up as his wife entered the library. "I didn't think you would miss me enough to notice, Aequinea." He replied with mild sarcasm.
"I didn't." She replied frostily. "A raven came for you. From Skyhold."
He accepted the rolled piece of parchment from her hand and cracked the seal. "You could have sent one of the slaves. Could it be that you're as worried about Dorian as I am?"
"I have worried about Dorian from the second you forced him away. I could have made him see reason, but you had to stuff your wounded pride down his throat."
It was an old argument and one Halward was infinitely wearied of, so instead of replying he perused the document. "Dorian has agreed to the meeting."
For just a moment, a relieved smile lit Aequinea Pavus's face. It lightened some of the bitterness from her expression and Halward was reminded of the vibrant young woman he had married all those years ago. Before the babies. Before Alexius. Before Dorian. "Thank the Maker."
"Yes. Mother Giselle warns us that the Inquisitor is a very honest man. He refused to trick Dorian into coming, but he agreed anyway. She did say that the fabrication of the 'family retainer' is intact."
"Excellent. I'll have the slaves pack my things now…"
Halward cut her off, "You're not coming."
Aequinea narrowed her eyes. "Just try to stop me, Halward Pavus."
"It's not a matter for debate." Halward stated firmly. "I need to move quickly and quietly…two things you aren't capable of. Not to mention that it will be exceedingly dangerous. There's war in Thedas, just in case you haven't noticed."
"Don't patronize me." She hissed. "I'm perfectly capable…"
"Why this overwhelming desire to see Dorian now?" He cut her off. "You were perfectly willing to let him walk away without a word before. Do you think he'll be any happier to see you than he will be to see me?"
Halward knew it was a low blow, and he didn't care. He had his own reasons for wanting to see his wayward son and none of them could happen with Aequinea breathing poison into Dorian's ear. The words had the desired effect- Aequinea shot him a venomous look before turning on her heel and stalking toward the door. She couldn't resist a parting shot.
"At least I didn't use my power to try and destroy him."
Halward deserved that, he knew. It wasn't anything that he hadn't tortured himself with frequently, so he was able to let her stalk away with her supposed victory. Instead, he picked up the picture again. It was painted the day Dorian graduated top of his class from the Academy in Minrathous. Halward could barely recognize himself standing so tall and proud next to his brilliant, handsome son. He ran his fingers over the image of Dorian's face once more before standing decisively. He had plenty of things to take care of without mourning over the past. He placed the picture on his desk and walked out without a backward glance.
.:*:.
It was all falling apart. From the second Dorian walked into the Gull and Lantern, Halward could tell he was in for a fight. He tried to get a word in edgewise, but Dorian was spitting accusations at him like the venom of a particularly deadly cobra. Each word out of his son's mouth struck hard and fast and burned like acid.
And the worst part was- every single word was true.
Halward would never admit it but he was actually glad of the Inquisitor's presence. The Dalish mage projected an aura of quiet strength that Dorian seemed to respond to. "Dorian," The Inquisitor said as Dorian withdrew after his tirade about Halward's sins, "Don't leave it like this. You'll never forgive yourself."
Halward could have embraced the man, elf or not. He was under no illusion that it was by his support alone that Dorian was still there. And for some reason, despite knowing the judgment Halward had passed on his son, he was urging him to stay and attempt to mend their relationship. Much to Halward's surprise Dorian did turn back, his mirror-grey eyes still drowning in hurt. "Tell me why you came." He demanded.
"If I had known that I would drive you to the Inquisition…"
"You didn't," Dorian's voice was saturated in anguish. Halward wanted to reach forward, gather him into his arms just as he did the time Dorian had fallen out of the lime tree as a child and broken his arm. He wanted to soothe his pain, even as he knew that he had caused it, but he didn't dare move. "I joined the Inquisition because it was the right thing to do. Once, I had a father who understood that."
That was it. The final blow. Halward felt his heart contract sharply at the contempt in Dorian's words. Dorian turned to go, his hand almost on the latch of the door before Halward found his voice.
"Once I had a son who trusted me. A trust I betrayed." Halward was not taught to display his feelings. His own father had been a taciturn man, barely acknowledging his children except to criticize, to push them to do better, or to remind them of their duty. Every word felt like lead on his lips and sounded to his ears like the words of a simpleton but for once in his life Halward Pavus was beyond caring. He could NOT let his son-his precious boy, repository of all Halward's hopes and dreams- walk out that door without letting him know how he really felt. Not again. Not ever again. "I only wanted to talk to him, to hear his voice again…to ask him to forgive me."
He didn't really expect it to work, but to his surprise Dorian stopped and glanced back. The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow, the expression in his ruby eyes encouraging, and nodded before moving toward the door. He set his hand gently on Dorian's shoulder and spoke a word of reassurance before taking his leave. Dorian watched the Inquisitor go, face softened into an expression that Halward knew all too well….
"I'm concerned about Dorian."
Halward looked up from the letter he was writing. "Why is that, Aequinea?"
"He spends far too much time with that new slave boy. Rien, I think his name is. I think there's something going on there."
"Then why don't you confront him about it?"
"I have. He says it's nothing. Besides," Aequinea's expression darkened. "You know far more about that…particular predilection than I do."
Halward sighed. She was correct, even if the knowledge was meant to hurt him. "I'll take care of it." He reassured her.
Dorian was a brilliant child but he was an open book. So sure of his place and abilities, he had never learned to conceal his emotions. Halward spent all of two days quietly watching his son before he decided that Aequinea had been correct. There was a certain…softness…in his son's expression when looking at the slave boy that made Halward wary. It became even clearer when he walked into Dorian's room unannounced one day and found them both in various stages of undress, all exploring lips and roaming hands.
"Father!" Dorian noticed him first and broke off with a gasp of unpleasant surprise. Rien just dropped to the floor on his hands and knees, terrified. He hadn't been with the family long, so he had no idea what to expect. Dorian scrambled to the end of the bed, "It's not his fault, father…I made him…"
"Hush, Dorian." Halward gave a quiet sigh and motioned the slave boy up. "Get your clothes and go."
The boy wasted no time in obeying. Halward handed Dorian a shirt, which he quickly put on. "Let us sit on your balcony for a moment."
"It was nothing, father." Dorian attempted to reassure, but his voice was dangerously close to babbling. "It was just an experiment, I swear..."
"Dorian. You are not in trouble."
"I'm…not?"
"Of course not. Do you think you are the first to gain your experience from a favored slave?" Halward spoke so matter- of- factly that some of the tension went out of Dorian's shoulders. "It's perfectly natural that a boy your age would be curious."
"Then…you're not going to punish Rien?"
"No, Dorian. Rien is safe."
Dorian sighed in relief. "Thank you, father. I'm sorry…"
"Don't be sorry. I'm certain that you will act in a discreet manner appropriate for a man of House Pavus from here on out."
"Yes, sir." Dorian replied automatically. His grey eyes were still shadowed, but Halward attributed it to embarrassment. For just a moment, Halward was reminded of a similar conversation he had had with his own father, but he pushed the thought away. The old bastard was dead and he would make sure Dorian never had to suffer what he had. He patted Dorian on the shoulder as he rose to go.
"Enjoy your dalliances if you must, Dorian, but do take care to let them remain dalliances. I know that you understand your duty to your family."
"Yes, father." It cost Dorian to say those words. Halward felt a pang of remorse for his son, but there was nothing he could do. It was the way it was, the way it had been for him and his father and presumably his grandfather before him. The future of House Pavus rested squarely on Dorian's young shoulders, as unfair as it was. Halward had no doubt that his brilliant son could handle the pressure…
"Father…father." Halward snapped back to the present. Dorian was standing before him, looking at him with questioning eyes, waiting for him to take the lead. Waiting…and hopefully willing…to talk. Halward had to fight the urge to place his hand on Dorian's shoulder; instead, he motioned up the stairs to his room.
They had some catching up to do.
