Chapter 18

Dorian's hands shook, nervous energy roiling in his gut. A storm threatening to spill over. And it took all he had to keep it from breaking free. He wasn't sure at what point he lost control over his body, but it stubbornly refused to obey. Something as simple as breathing became a chore and his lungs burned from lack of air. He needed to sit. He needed to stand. He needed to move and be still all at once.

The rolling of the ship made it worse. The room spun around him in a dizzying flurry, making him unsteady on his feet.

Not even the table felt solid enough of a support. But at least it was something to hold on to because there was nothing else as 'Rhen carelessly tossed aside his shirt, gesturing at his chest.

"This," 'Rhen choked out, harshly pointing at his scars. "This is your truth! I should have died with them! I should have- I should have been there! Instead, I was herding druffalo and chasing gods know what useless shit for fuck knows who! And for what? A pretty trinket? A thank you? No one gives a shit about anything until it's on their fucking doorstep. And even then, they're more than happy to toss people like me to die by the sword while they sit pretty in their high fucking castles, drinking wine and eating cheese and fuck knows what else, patting themselves on the back for a job well fucking done!"

The venom in 'Rhen's voice startled Dorian. Part of him expected the tirade after their argument. He had asked for it, afterall, hadn't he? He just didn't imagine it would come with such heated rage. He had seen Lavellan angry and upset before, he had seen him furious, even. But it was always on behalf of some poor sod.

This?

His own anger withered under Lavellan's feverish stare. How had he so completely misunderstood?

Moreover, how had he let something as mundane as a door keep him away?

He never questioned Lavellan when he said he was fine because he always seemed so composed, but it was clear to Dorian now that he barely knew the Inquisitor at all. This kind of hatred, it couldn't be just about his family. This kind of hatred was borne from years of suffering and he had a feeling he barely scratched the surface.

The realization forced the last bit of air from Dorian's lungs, flooring him.

He had failed before he even began. He had made the mistake of assuming Lavellan was always Dalish, taking his markings at face value. It never occurred to him that it may not have always been so. In all their time together, through all their conversations, Dorian got so used to Lavellan brushing off personal questions, or giving vague answers and changing the subject that he stopped asking.

Now he wished he hadn't.

Did others know?

And if they did, what did that make him? A terrible lover and an even worse friend. And Dorian had no idea what he could do to make it right. He felt like he cut open a wound he had no business being near and now it was bleeding out.

"Everyone is always after power," 'Rhen continued through bared teeth, voice low, shaking. "Through conquest, through magic, doesn't matter." His hand erupted in a brilliant flash of green, drawing Dorian's attention. 'Rhen moved his fingers, letting the streams of fade magic snake playfully between them. It jumped and arced and the more power 'Rhen expended, the further up his arm it traveled, dissipating into fine fractures at his elbow.

Dorian frowned. He was by no means an expert on the anchor, but he was certain that it wasn't supposed to do that. Was it getting worse? Just how much was the Inquisitor keeping to himself?

"No one tells you the cost, though. It changes you, makes you less of who you were. And it happens so gradually you don't even notice until it's too late, until you wake up one morning and don't recognize the person standing before you in the mirror.

"Power is its own powerlessness. You become nothing more than a slave to its whims. It is a curse. And this- this fucking thing!" The green energy flashed in a bright flare and faded into nothing as 'Rhen curled his fingers into a fist. "It's no fucking different! What good is it if I can't use it to save my friends? My family? Her. All it is now is just another chain around my neck. A fucking leash. One I can't ever escape."

The intensity in 'Rhen's eyes had not wavered, fueled by whatever conviction was driving his rage. His fingers wrapped around his own throat, nails digging into the soft flesh and something about the imagery made Dorian's skin crawl. 'Rhen's words lodged in his chest, coiling around his lungs, poised to strike at his very heart. He felt off about the way Lavellan spoke but Dorian couldn't quite pin it.

"The truth is, I wanted this," 'Rhen voiced bitterly after a pause, letting his hands fall by his sides. "You'll never know what it's like to feel helpless, to feel powerless. And I mean truly powerless. It eats away at you until you believe it's the only way to live. No choice is your own, no thought. You don't own anything but the hate in your heart, and it grows and festers until-"

Dorian stiffened as 'Rhen leveled his gaze on him, direct and unflinching. There was something else there, too. A challenge, like he was daring Dorian to contradict him so he could tear him apart with his own truth.

But then, his defiance melted away and his eyes shifted, focused on something beyond their small confines, something beyond time. This was the most vulnerable Dorian had ever seen the Inquisitor. Visibly shaken, his arms were pulled close to his body and he was rubbing at the skin of his hands in slow, deliberate strokes as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

The nervous energy in the pit of Dorian's stomach turned into full on dread as he watched 'Rhen wrestle with the demons behind his eyes. It reminded him of the summer storms in Tevinter, the way the air stilled after the initial bout and you could almost taste the energy in the atmosphere before it hit again.

Until?

"The first time is the hardest," 'Rhen finally said, eyes cast downwards at his wringing hands. Every muscle in his body was pulled taut, straining under control and it reflected in 'Rhen's voice. He spoke in a low tone, each word said with unnatural composure and purpose. "So much blood. You don't expect so much blood. And it doesn't wash off. Its stink follows you around like a disease. But it's their eyes that you never forget. So. Many. Eyes. Forever frozen in terror. They stay with you long after you become indifferent to it all."

Dorian's eyes widened in shock and whatever strength he had left, vanished. He barely managed to get his chair up before he collapsed into it, the birthright falling soundlessly to the ground. He was not prepared for this. How could he have been? Everything he had known to be true was based on fiction, a fairy tale, a perfect fantasy.

The chill penetrated to his very bone marrow, making him feel numb and he pressed a hand to his chest in a desperate need to clear the thick ache in his throat. There was no need for elaboration. The implication of 'Rhen's words was self-evident. But they were in such violent contrast to Lavellan Dorian knew that his brain simply refused to accept them. It just wasn't possible.

Before him, 'Rhen retreated into his own head, humming words in a foreign tongue, face contorted in agitation.

"Ma garas mir renan, ara ma'athlan vhenas… Ma garas mir renan, ara ma'athlan vhenas..." He had started pacing, footfalls deadened by thick carpeting, hair disheveled from fingers repeatedly dragged through it. As Dorian blinked through the shock, he began to really see 'Rhen. The frenzied movements, the far away stare, the anger and erratic outbursts.

Blinded by his own anger and frustration, he didn't notice it before.

But this was the gut wrenching truth.

Dorian was losing him. Again. This time it wasn't to Corypheus. It wasn't to the Inquisition. It to whatever madness had taken root in his mind. With sudden clarity, everything started to make sense. The stress and burden of leadership, the trauma of family loss, all compounded by whatever happened in the Fade.

This he should have expected. The Fade was an ordeal under normal circumstances, but to be the only real thing there? He wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy. Without thinking, without a hint of doubt, Dorian reached out, heart filled with anguish and body aching to comfort. Scandal and impropriety be damned. He had held back long enough.

"Ma garas mir renan, ara ma'athlan vhenas… Ma garas mir renan, ara ma'athlan vhenas… I- I can't… Evelline… I can't remember- Her voice, her face… It's all gone… I can't remember-!" Face stricken with agony and streaked with tears, 'Rhen fell to his knees, letting out a heartrending howl.

It broke Dorian into a million pieces, filling every gap with indescribable sorrow. He was on his feet and by 'Rhen's side in an instant, collecting him into his arms and crushing him against his chest. He felt so frail, so small in his embrace. How could someone so much bigger than life feel so small?

"She saved me," 'Rhen sobbed, chest caving in. "She saved me and I couldn't do the same for her! I couldn't save anyone!"

It was agonizing to feel so helpless, to not know the right thing to say. And he was still struggling to fully understand what was going on in 'Rhen's head. What if he said the wrong thing? What if he made it worse?

"It was right. I can't win. I can't win. I killed them. I killed them all. It's all my fault!" 'Rhen's body shook, rocked by waves of tremors and shallow breaths, nails digging into Dorian's arm. "And you- You died. I killed you… Oh, gods… I killed you!" His hands wrapped around his head and he collapsed into himself. "What am I supposed to do? I can't - I can't do that. Not to you. You're all- You're all I have left…!"

The floor dropped from under Dorian and he was in freefall. What was he to do? He couldn't even begin to imagine the torment 'Rhen went through and the havoc it wrought on his mind. And he knew that what he felt was only a fraction of what 'Rhen must have been going through.

How could he ever be enough for something so unfathomably deep?

"I'm here," Dorian forced the words out through the knot in his throat, struggling to hold back his tears. "I'm still here. I've got you." It seemed an empty platitude but it was all he could offer in that moment. All the years of schooling and reading and still, no words were sufficient enough to convey the profound grief he felt. So Dorian just held on to him, hoping that, for now, it was enough.

They stayed that way for a while, Dorian refusing to let go until 'Rhen stilled and his breathing came in a quiet and steady rhythm. It was only when 'Rhen's hands fell by his sides and his head rested against Dorian's chest did he loosen his grip. As carefully as he could manage, Dorian lifted him up and carried him to his cabin, putting him to rest on the bed. He searched through the storage under the bed and pulled out a spare cover and draped it over 'Rhen who stirred, curling into a ball, but did not wake.

It was then Dorian noticed it. It was obscured by heavy battle scarring and distorted with time and age, but still there, so obvious now that he saw it.

Just another chain around my neck.

His heart dropped to the floor as the final piece fell into place.

A slave brand.

It was unmistakable. Circular in shape, it contained what looked like initials and a family crest.

A quiet fury grew in his chest. Partly at himself for being so insensitive on the issue. He realized how callous he must have sounded and how he really shouldn't have been surprised by 'Rhen's accusation. Slavery being normalized in Tevinter was a poor excuse.

But mostly he was furious at whoever did this to 'Rhen. One thing Dorian was certain of was that the Inquisitor was neither from Tevinter nor Par Vollen. Their discussions made that much clear. Which meant that whoever owned him, did so illegally. Though he seriously doubted that meant anything. Southerners loved to throw their noses up at his country with their better-than-thou attitude, but so rarely looked to their own borders. Hypocrites, the lot of them.

Knowing what he knew now, he couldn't fault 'Rhen for what he did. All of his pain, all of his anger and suffering, Dorian took it upon himself. He would make this right. He would. Whatever it took.

Rifling through his drawer, he pulled out the sending crystal Mae sent to coordinate resistance efforts in Tevinter and powered it up. Seconds felt like hours as he waited for an answer, but it finally sparked to life as Mae's tired voice came through.

"Dorian? What in the world possessed you to call at such an hour-"

"I need your help, Mae." A short pause followed his request before Mae replied.

"What happened?" she asked, as usual picking up on his distress.

"I need your contacts to dig up some information for me. It's… a personal matter."

"Of course, consider it done. Just tell me what I'm looking for."

Dorian glanced at 'Rhen, jaw tightening.

"Not what. Who."

He relayed as much information as he could and, when he was satisfied with Mae's confirmation, ended the call, still feeling heavyhearted. He sat on the edge of the bed, one leg hanging over the side, and finally allowed himself to process the events of the night. What kind of strength did it take to go through what the Inquisitor did and still stand at the end of the day?

He traced the slave brand on 'Rhen's back with a trembling finger.

I think you're brave.

"No more than you, Amamatus."