Dorian felt that his lover had spent far too much time in the rotunda. Their investigation into the Imperium's most prominent and ancient families had progressed well, but even that seemed not to lift his spirits or soothe his frayed nerves. On occasion he would catch him deep in thought, and he thought he saw the end written in the lines of his forehead.
A storm had blown in soon after their return. The outpost was all but drowned, and the researchers had been forced to store their more delicate equipment in the cave itself. The soldiers were on a mission to build rudimentary shelters, their materials sent and provided by Josephine, while their lookouts attempted to battle through the sudden low visibility. Each shred of news that Fabriel heard seemed to draw his expression a touch more grim. Dorian feared that, if not for himself, his lover would have withdrawn further and further into his studies, until he found himself in the pit on an obsession.
"Oh, I forgot to warn you," Dorian said while he and the rider sat in the library, "A dowager from Orlais is visiting Skyhold, keeps saying she wants to introduce you to her daughter. I told her you'd taken a vow of celibacy."
Fabriel's smile was small but genuine. "Has she not heard the rumours?"
"I hope not. Asking me where you are doesn't seem so malicious then."
The Dragon-Slayer chuckled and returned to his notes. Dorian had narrowed down the list to three potential families, and provided reasons for his suspicion; ancient ties to Old God priests; presence of family members that were confirmed Venatori; and even examples of their assumed blood magic practice. It was enough to start examining their accessible records. He was at once eager and apprehensive to learn the truth behind the research site. Dorian noticed the two emotions at war on his face.
"Fabriel," he said after a beat. The mage leaned closer to him, as though eager to avoid listening ears. It caught his lover's attention. "I…About the future."
The rider paused, and soon set down his notes to turn fully to his lover.
"I plan on returning to Tevinter, once this is all said and done. My homeland won't change until people like me start to demand it. I'm…not certain where that will leave us."
"Where do you want it to leave us?" he asked. There was a pause as Dorian thought.
"I'd like what we have to continue, if that's what you want. I wouldn't be any less dedicated to you in the Imperium than I would here. But the distance could prove difficult, especially since our work will often have us called away."
Fabriel's mouth seemed unnaturally still as he stared at his lover. His eyes were carefully blank, and for a moment Dorian wondered if he had somehow offended him. Then he dived into his pocket and produced a small, crumpled note, which he offered to the mage.
"Perhaps we won't be so distant, Dorian."
The mage took the note from him, bewildered and uncertain. Once he opened it and read what was inside, he was only more confused.
"A deed?" he said. Fabriel nodded.
"To land in Minrathous."
"Where did you get this?"
Fabriel paused. There was a moment in which Dorian thought he would not answer, but then the rider sighed and leaned closer in.
"That letter I received," he told him, "The one I wouldn't discuss. It was from Tevinter."
"You contacted the Imperium?"
"I wrote to the Herathinos family." He said, and was met by a shocked silence. "With all that's happening, I felt it necessary."
"Why?"
"I wanted…answers, I suppose. I wanted to know if any of them regretted what happened to my mother, what they did to her. I didn't get that. Mother's parents – my grandparents – have extended an invitation to their home, and offered me lands in exchange for my silence."
Dorian did not know how to react – not immediately. Fabriel's face did not reveal much emotion, and he felt as if, were he to say the wrong thing, he would close himself off entirely. But as his lover stared at him, he realised he was waiting for him to speak.
"Are you alright?" he asked softly. The rider shook his head.
"No, not really," he said. "I expected—well, I don't know what I expected. I'm not even sure why I felt such a need for them to be sorry. But these lands provide me with an opportunity."
Fabriel rested his hand over his lover's and sighed.
"After the dragon is dead," he said, "assuming, of course, that I live, I want to retire from service."
"Retire?" Dorian replied, and his voice was gentle, almost disbelieving. "That will be quite a controversial decision, Fabriel. People look to you for support in desperate times."
"The Chantry is led by a new Divine, one who is more able to attend their needs, protect them where it's necessary. My necessity will soon be at its end. I've given enough."
He kissed Dorian's forehead, and the mage thought he could hear a quiet sigh on his lips.
"I love you, Dorian," he said. "Once this is over, I want to retire to Tevinter – with you."
There was quiet. Dorian could feel the hammer of his heart, heard the blood beating in his ears as he stared at the Dragon-Slayer, his expression one of shock and disbelief. He had thought about their future quietly to himself at times; but he had never thought that Fabriel would relinquish his position, even if he had no love for it, and quit the south for his mother's homeland. The very idea was almost blasphemous. He found himself releasing his hand from Fabriel's grip, and with a slow shake of his head he stammered:
"N-no, I don't want that."
Before his lover could react, the mage stood and hurriedly left the room. Fabriel was left to watch after him, confused and hurt, as he disappeared out of his sight.
