Dorian's office windows faced southeast and overlooked down over the winding streets and crumbling buildings of Minrathous. He'd been home for almost two months. He thrived in the sunlight and warmth of northern Tevinter, and while he hated to admit it, he was getting better with the politics of the Imperial Senate. But the breeze from the Nocen Sea smelled of salt and melancholy and stirred up regrets he wished he didn't feel. Every time he looked at the sending crystal, silent these last weeks, the raw pain grated within him.

Someone rapped on the door and he smoothed his robes. While everyone in the senate knew about his past with the Inquisition, he was in Tevinter permanently now. It would not do to show sentimentality, which was equivalent to weakness. No matter how deeply he felt it.

"Come in," he called, settling in the leather chair behind his desk. He swept the sending crystal pendant into a drawer and slammed it shut just as the door creaked open. "Mae. I'm glad it's not someone else," he teased.

Maevaris Tilani, another magister from Qarinus, slipped into the office and closed the door behind her. She settled into the other chair in the room and crossed her legs demurely. "Did I catch you brooding again?" she asked. Dorian shook his head, but she fixed her blue eyes on him knowingly.

He sighed. There was never any point hiding anything from Mae. "Only a little this time," he said with a smile. "Did you hear from Alcides?"

"He agrees with the Lucerni's position. Taxes are exorbitant, and he believes we can fund subsidies for soporati if we pull funds from the military on Seheron."

"It will never happen," Dorian said. "The Qunari threat provides an excellent excuse for taxing the populace and funding the lavish lifestyle of half the Magisterium. Though they'll never admit to it."

"Half the Magisterium stands to lose their lifestyle if the Qunari take Seheron," Mae pointed out. "The threat's real this time, and we weren't ready. Had you not uncovered the Qunari plot during the Exalted Council—"

"We're not going there, Mae," Dorian said, his smile plastered across his face and a dangerous gleam in his eye. "What's done is done. Did you just come to pester me about brooding?"

"And to let you know about Alcides. But we need more than just his support. Have you met with the Publicanium yet?"

He'd been back in Tevinter two months and had been a full Magister for six weeks of that,and it had been trial by fire from the start. Of course Mae had him embroiled in her machinations right away. He toyed with the quill pen on his desk. "I think they're afraid."

Mae nodded. She twirled a lock of yellow hair around one long finger. "Of course they are. The Magisterium barely gives them the time of day." Sessions that included the entire Senate were few and far between to begin with; when they did happen, the Magisters dominated the floor, passed their motions, and moved on. "Plublicans are too used to being powerless figureheads. And now we're asking them to consider changing that, so they're probably suspicious. I know I would be." She gazed out the window, her mask of bravado faltering momentarily.

The last time he'd been in Minrathous, himself a figurehead ambassador between the Imperium and the Inquisition, Dorian hadn't fully grasped all that was going on below the surface. When he'd been sworn in, Mae arrived at his apartment at sunup the next morning and inundated him with paperwork and briefings before he'd even thought about being fully awake. Now he understood a bit how Theo felt: always at someone's beck and call, always the one expected to have answers when he himself hardly knew what he was doing. There had been no time to settle in, not with his father's untimely assassination.

Dorian shook his head. "Maker's testicles, Mae. I'm not a politician. I can't think like this." He sat back in his chair, conjured a small ball of fire in the palm of his hand and stared into the orange flames. "I never wanted to be a Magister. Especially not like this."

Mae scooted her chair closer and rested her elbows on the desk. "You joined the Inquisition. You've been at the center of Thedas's politics. You've seen things most in the Magisterium have not, regardless of how worldly they'd like to believe they are. You were made for this, Dorian."

There was no convincing her otherwise, so Dorian just smiled and nodded as she got up and left. It was best to just let Mae believe she was right, than to try arguing. Yes, he'd spent three and a half years embroiled in Thedosian politics, deep in the Inquisition. For awhile he even thought he'd stay with the Inquisition forever.

Nothing lasted forever. He knew it going in, and to believe that could change had been foolish. The quiet sending crystal was heavier evidence of that every day.

Not even the Tevinter Imperium could last forever, not this way. It had clung to its former glory like scraps of skin on bone for centuries. It had to change if it wanted to avoid collapsing under the weight of its own decadence. Dorian always knew he would be the one to change it. He'd thought, during his time with the Inquisition, that his role was there; but the longer he stayed, the more he saw worldwide change happening under his watch, the more he longed to return home to Tevinter.

He'd also longed to balance his return with his marriage to Theo Trevelyan; just one year, he'd told him, hopeful that Theo could understand, could give him the time he needed. He knew the circumstances were less than ideal. He'd told Theo that. Theo hadn't spoken to him since, and it ached deep within him, in a place he didn't know existed, for reasons he couldn't put words to.

He once swore he would never be a Magister, and now here he was. Most days he barely kept his head above water, and was always both surprised and relieved when he retired to his Minrathous apartments at the end of each day. He put back a couple of drinks and had a light dinner and wished he had Theo's arm around him, holding him close; his voice in his ear, telling him it would be alright, that he was doing the right thing. If he were to affect change, to make his promises to himself and the Inquisitor mean something, this was where he had to be.

The last thing he needed was to undermine what they were working for. That was something Theo had never quite understood. Theo created expectations; Dorian had spent most of his life falling short of them. Granted, they were expectations he'd never wanted to meet in the first place. But now, the expectations were ones he not only wanted to meet, but to exceed. He'd never minded being in Theo's shadow during the Inquisition, but this was the Tevinter Imperium, and this was Dorian's job.

The tall buildings of the capital city cast shadows as he walked the winding streets, though when he looked upward the sky was still rosy with the sunset. The scent of roasting meats and spices wafted out of cafes with sidewalk seating, and Dorian nodded his acknowledgement as he passed a diner he recognized.

"Care to join me for dinner, Pavus?" asked Catullus as Dorian walked by. He leaned over the iron railing separating his table and chair from the sidewalk. Catullus hadn't joined up with Dorian's cause, but he sometimes seemed open to suggestions of reform, even if he did sit on the military finance committee. "The red is well-aged here," he added as he gestured to the empty seat across from him. He was already holding up his wine glass, gesturing to the waiter and holding up two fingers with his other hand.

"I suppose I don't have a choice now, do I," Dorian said over his shoulder as he headed for the gate. He just wanted to go home, maybe mope a bit. His crystal weighed heavy in his pocket, its silence mocking him. Perhaps dinner with Catullus would help. He was vapid enough to be entertaining, and it couldn't hurt to plant more seeds of reform.

Dorian sat and sipped his wine as Catullus went on about his own vineyards in Perivantium. "It's a good deal of work around the harvest time, but well worth it," he said. "Almost as good as this," he added with a sip of his wine and a wink.

"I hear there are many looking for work," Dorian said. The waiter set down a salad of mixed greens with a light oil dressing. "Selling themselves into slavery to settle debts, even." It was one of the more troubling things he'd discovered since his return.

Catullus raised an eyebrow and chewed his salad. He looked like a druffalo. "Are you suggesting that I hire and pay workers?" he asked. He had a strange half smile on his jowly face, as if he couldn't decide if Dorian seriously meant it.

"Well, there's work to be had all over the Imperium, if one were to just look beyond the surface of matters. This is what the Lucerni party encourages," Dorian explained. He pushed his greens around on his plate. Dinner with other Magisters was never a purely social affair; it was always a business meeting with food, as he'd quickly learned as a young enchanter. Politics tended to make him lose his appetite. Though he had no issue drinking, and finished off his wine and called for another.

Catullus chuckled. "You're an idealist, Pavus. Your father did all he could to fit in, and you've done all you can to stand out." He met Dorian's gaze. "Standing out can be dangerous."

"So can complacency," Dorian said with a pleasant smile. He rose and left a few coins on the table. "For the wine I won't be drinking. Enjoy yourself, Catullus." He knew Catullus smirked and chuckled behind his back; he knew that this would cost him in the senate, and he'd probably hear from Mae.

She'd been a Magister for years. She knew the Magisterium, and the Senate as a whole; knew how to maneuver and manipulate. This was her life, her world. The world of Halward Pavus.

Dorian was sworn in as a Magister, but this wasn't his world. He didn't know what his world was anymore.