That was it, then. Felix was truly gone. Dorian had been preparing himself for this moment for so long, he had come to terms with this inevitability after all, and yet somehow, now that he held the letter with the news in his hand, it hit him harder than he thought it could. Felix had been his best friend, standing by him through so much and between him and Alexius, they had been the closest thing to a real, caring family he'd ever really had, and somewhere along the line it had all gone so spectacularly wrong.

Dorian couldn't help but wonder why Felix had been the one to die. Why was Alexius the one brought low, currently imprisoned who knows where, only alive thanks to the mercy of the Inquisitor? They were good people, they deserved so much better than this. Meanwhile, Dorian had spent most of his life burning bridges and trying to drink himself into oblivion, and yet here he was, still alive. And now so very alone.

Not that that was an unfamiliar feeling. Dorian had felt alone though much of his life, from a mother's neglect to a father's betrayal. He himself had even abandoned Felix and Alexius eventually, isolating himself instead of standing by them when they needed him. Now, truly, there was nothing left for him, the last person who had really cared was gone and he'd never felt quite so alone as he did in this moment. He was nothing if not stubborn, running on spite alone when necessary, but at least he probably wouldn't have to figure out what to do with himself because he'd probably be dead before all this Inquisition business was finished.

He crumpled the letter and tosses it onto the table, rubbing at his face, trying to ground himself. It wouldn't do for anyone to find the evil magister teary-eyed in the middle of the library. As he did, however, a voice called out behind him and he nearly jumped in surprise.

"Anything interesting?"

Ah, the Inquisitor. He always did have impeccable timing. He gestured towards the crumpled letter, but when he caught sight of Dorian's expression, the smile fell from his face, replaced with a look of concern. All Dorian wanted to do was drink until there was nothing left to feel, but perhaps that should wait. It was too late to deflect and the Inquisitor deserved to know what had become of Alexius' son after everything that had happened at Redcliffe. And perhaps someone should tell Alexius himself.

"A letter regarding Felix, Alexius' son," Dorian said, carefully schooling his expression as he stood to face the Inquisitor. "He went to the magisterium, stood on the senate floor and told them of you. A glowing testimonial, I'm informed. No news of the reaction but everyone back home is talking. Felix always was as good as his word."

"Was?" the Inquisitor asked, his face falling, no doubt guessing what was to come.

"He's dead. The blight finally caught up with him," Dorian said matter of factly.

"Are you alright?"

Somehow the genuine sympathy in Trevelyan's voice made it harder for Dorian to keep his mask of flippancy and self assurance intact, but he pushed on valiantly.

"He was ill, thus on borrowed time anyway."

As much as he appreciated the Inquisitor's kindness, Trevelyan had enough problems of his own without trying to shoulder Dorian's as well. Besides, as far as anyone knew, he was always fine. Let the Inquisitor save his sympathy for someone who needed it.

"That doesn't mean you can't regret his death," Trevelyan urged, always too perceptive, and Dorian knew it was an invitation to share in his mourning if he wished, but there was already enough sadness at Skyhold as it was.

"I know," he said instead. "Felix used to sneak me treats from the kitchen while I was working late in his father's study. 'Don't get into trouble in my account,' I'd tell him. 'I like trouble,' he'd say. Tevinter could use more mages like him. Those who put the good of others above themselves. Even in illness Felix was the best of us. With him around, you knew things could be better."

That's how Felix would have wanted to be remembered. He wouldn't want Dorian moping about and bringing everyone else down.

"You make it sound like he was a better person than you." Much too perceptive. And he still wasn't letting up, damn his compassion.

"What a mad thing to say," Dorian joked instead of giving in. "Few people are better than I."

Trevelyan gave him a look that said clearly that he could see right through him. There was something else there too, however, a pain or sadness, something Dorian couldn't quite place and, frankly, didn't want to dwell on right now. Blast this man, he was making it difficult to hold back the tide of emotions threatening to break through

"Very well, a better person, clearly. Not nearly as handsome." And that was his queue to leave, before he revealed anymore of his hand. Except there was still one thing he felt he should say, wanting to convey his appreciation even if he was stubbornly evading his attempts to help, so Dorian paused, turning back and gave the Inquisitor his most roguish smile. "Thankfully Felix wasn't the only decent sort kicking around Thedas."

"Wait–" The inquisitor said it much too urgently, a hand reaching out, but he let it fall to his side again, clearly unsure if the touch would be welcome and Dorian tried not to notice the regret he felt at the lack of warm contact. "Do you– I mean, if you don't want the company I understand, but I was actually stopping by to see if you wanted to help me finish this." He held up a bottle of brandy and Dorian barked out a laugh.

"You truly are amazing," Dorian said, taking too much enjoyment in the way he blushed at the compliment, turning red up to the tip of his ears in a way that was much too endearing. "How could I possibly turn down such an offer?"

Elden pulled up a chair and the two of them sat at Dorian's little table there in the library, passing the bottle back and forth, talking and laughing, sharing stories of their childhood, of Felix. The next time he looked out of the window to check the time it was well past dark and Dorian couldn't help but speculate that that this was preferable to how he had originally thought his night would end.

"You are a good man, you know," Elden said suddenly and much too soberly for someone who had assisted in emptying nearly an entire bottle of expensive brandy. "I hope you know that. I'm grateful you're here."

His smile was so soft, gentle as he looked at him and Dorian wasn't sure what he had ever done to be looked at that way. Not that Elden would ever accept him disagreeing, and right now all Dorian felt was swell of affection and a strong desire to be worthy of such a compliment, to fight hard to do what was right, to be someone Elden could truly be proud of. They were silent for a moment, simply smiling at each other in a way that Dorian no doubt would have found ridiculous had he been sober. All too soon, though, Elden seemed to remember himself, growing self conscious again as he coughed and looked away, suddenly bashful, and Dorian decided to have mercy on him for a change and not tease.

"Obviously I am the best choice when it comes to possible drinking companions," Dorian deflected, restoring the easy atmosphere that had settled between them.

As Dorian sat there, drinking and talking with Trevellyan, he felt something he hadn't felt in so long. It was a sort of contentment, a break from the ever present melancholy and impending doom hanging over them all. It didn't make sense to feel it here, as he mourned the loss of his friend and attempted to drown his sorrows, but he felt a sort of comfort in Elden's presence. It was an easy friendship they had, something familiar and dependable, something he had only truly ever felt before with Felix.

His friend was gone, true, but there were still good in the world, people worth fighting for. It was hard to lose faith and give up on humanity while watching the Inquisitor fight so selflessly to save it. And Dorian wasn't exactly one for giving up, anyway. At least, not anymore. He was here for a reason and, no matter how things ended, he would see this finished. And Elden had more than earned his support.