A/N: Just as a warning, this chapter is not child friendly, and does contain some descriptions of a graphic and violent nature, as well as cursing. If these things make you uncomfortable, I would suggest skipping this chapter.

"Don't leave it like this Dorian, you'll never forgive yourself."

Lavellan looked up at the man beside her, whose knuckles were turning white due to his overly firm grip on the table. She said the words that she knew just by looking at him he didn't want to hear, but she believed that he needed to. He stared right at her for just a moment, eyes flickering as the words he wanted to say flashed through his mind before she caught the tiny nod in her direction. He violently pushed himself away from the table, and towards the man who he once revered.

"Tell me why you came", Dorian demanded, his words snapping harshly through the air.

"If I knew I would drive you to the Inquisition..." his father replied, his voice trailing off while his eyes strayed to the elf standing ramrod straight by the fire. His gaze made it very clear what he thought of the woman and her cause that stood behind his son.

"You didn't" Dorian cried, the exasperation and hurt cracking his words as he cut his father off. She could see his head shake in what she presumed was disgust. "I joined because it was the right thing to do. Once I had a father who would have known that."

"Once I had a son who would have trusted me. A trust I betrayed. I only wanted to talk to him. To hear his voice again. To ask him to forgive me."

An awkward pause settled over the room, making the tension that was already thick even more palpable and heavy.

"I'll be outside" Lavellan said softly, brushing a hand across Dorian's arm in reassurance, and with a final glare at the magister on the other side of the room, she walked out of the tavern, and towards the tree that stood outside.

She leaned against the dark bark, the wind blowing hard through the leaves. Her head thumped hard against the tree, eyes closed and face lifted to the darkened sky. All signs pointed to an oncoming storm.

It was going to be a very long ride back to Skyhold.

There were times when Lavellan hated that she was right, and this was definitely one of those times. It had been a very long, uncomfortable ride back to Skyhold. Varric had tried valiantly to break the silence with some jokes and a story or two, but between the barren silences from Dorian, the glares from Cassandra, and the halfhearted responses from herself, he too became silent rather quickly.

Once they had ridden through the gates of the hold, Dorian urged his horse towards the stables, leaving the rest of the group staring mutely at his back. Before Lavellan could get her hart to follow, Dorian had already jumped off his horse, leaving it with the stable hands. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he turned on his heel, robes billowing behind him in his haste as he went. Lavellan sighed to herself as he went up the stairs into the kitchens, obviously wanting to sneak off to his self-proclaimed nook in the library and avoid the mess of people in the main hall. After settling her horse with Denett, she took off after him.

As she climbed up the final steps into the library, she could see he was already settled at the window, staring out into the distance, eyes glazed over.

"He said we're alike, too much pride. Once I would have been overjoyed to hear that. Now I know I'm not", he said, almost quiet enough to be to himself, with a tone as bitter as the winds that whistled through the keep.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly, walking up and placing a hand on his shoulder, though she already knew the answer that was to follow.

"Not really" he replied, still staring out the window

She stared up at his face, taking in pained expressions "He tried...to change you?" she asked.

Dorian's eyes roared to life at her question, and for a moment, she could have sworn she had never seen a shemlen more angry, though deep down, she knew it wasn't directed at her, but rather at the flesh and blood who hurt him so bad.

"You won't let this go until you know the whole story, will you?" he asked, his eyes turning away from her, and his voice sounding just as harsh and short as the ravens caws that come from above them.

Lavellan reached out with dirt stained fingers, and touched his cheek, turning his face down towards her. His dark brown eyes met hers, and she could see the anger and the watery pain that hid behind it.

"You know I would never force you to tell me anything" she said softly, fingers still resting softly on his cheek. They stood silent for a moment, frozen in a tableau, until he sighed, took her hand in his own much larger one, and gave it a squeeze.

"I will tell you, but not here" he said softly. With that, he strode away from her and toward his room, leaving her to trail behind him, almost jogging trying to keep up with his ridiculously long human strides.

She followed him down the stairs and past Solas working on his mural. They turned the corner past the kitchens to one of the many hallways that housed various Inquisition members. He pulled a key from a pocket in his robes, and opened the first door on the left. With a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes, he gestured to her to enter.

As she stepped inside, she was immediately hit by how...austere... the room was. There was very little in way of decoration or adornment: just a bed and wardrobe, a small wooden table with a pile of books, and two chairs. There was nothing of Dorian in this room, no character or personality. It could have been the room of anyone just passing through. She wondered for a moment why he hadn't decorated in any way, but with a sinking feeling, she realized that maybe he didn't want any place to feel like home after what had happened back in Tevinter.

Dorian closed the door behind himself as he entered behind her, and strode over to the wardrobe. He rummaged around momentarily, and suddenly pulled out a half finished bottle of alcohol–an expensive bottle, by the looks of it. She peered around him and saw the bottom of the closet was covered in bottles of all shapes and sizes. She raised her eyebrow at him, her question not needing to be spoken aloud.

"The finest Marana's Pell scotch" he said with a smirk, his eyes lighting up with mischief. "I have a tendency to buy every bottle of liquor that passes me by from the homeland and hide it away for a personal use".

Lavellan watched Dorian's eyes cloud over once again, awash in a faraway pain.

"One never knows when one might need to forget the world around them" he said, looking right through her as he was drawn into his own haunted memories. Lavellan reached out and placed her hand on his arm. She shook him gently and he started, blinking wildly for a moment, before flashing her the smallest of smiles and fetching the glasses that were hidden behind the books. He poured them both a generous amount and gestured to her to sit in the small chair across from his.

They sat in silence for a moment; he seemingly lost in his own thoughts while she studied his expression carefully. A moment turned into several, and Lavellan began to lose herself as well, thinking of what happened just a few days earlier and how much the man before her seemed to have changed.

He began out of nowhere, making her jump from her thoughts of the past to the present. "I always knew we were different from other Minrathos families" he started, taking a very large sip from his glass. "I never thought my father would resort to the measure he chose to employ, because he had raised me to be different." His voice turned sour. "But it turns out he was just like the rest of them."

"How so?" asked Lavellan.

"Well, there was the fact that we treated our slaves differently," Dorian responded. "We had slaves of course, because that is what is done in Tevinter, but ours were relatively well taken care of. They were punished for misdeeds, but usually the Denantus would dole out any punishment, usually in the form of... extra chores... rather than corporal punishment."

Lavellan knew her face was pursed in confusion, and Dorian quickly caught on.

"Demantus was a sporati: a member of the class of people who are unable to do magic, but who aren't slaves. He was hired by my family to be in charge of the slaves. My father was too busy prostrating himself before the Archon to 'raise the family name' to run a household, and my mother often said that dealing with those of a lower class gave her the most horrid rash." He gave a wide smirk in remembrance, pausing for a moment before continuing, "So Demantus was left in charge, and from what I remember he treated them well. They never had the scars on them like slaves from other houses did. If you walked into most magisters homes, the slaves would be covered in welts and marks. Some were from blood magic, though usually if a magister used blood magic, he would just kill the slave. No–most slaves would have lashings on their back and arms, and sometimes burns... ours never had either. I think I had heard once that Demantus' family almost sold him into slavery to pay off their debts, but avoided it due to some inheritance. I think the idea of being a slave scared him in its own way, and he made it a point to be kind to those he could have been." Dorian took down the rest of his drink with on long, slow swallow. "There was one time, when I was young and my father was away for the night at a magister named Denarius' mansion, and he told my mother and I the next day about the horrific experiments Denarius was performing on his slaves. He had a viewing party to watch as he branded lyrium directly into one slave's skin just to prove he could. Father was so disgusted. I recall him saying something along the lines of 'if he truly wanted to show how powerful he was, he should have branded himself, to show he is more than human.'" Dorian sighed heavily, and refilled his glass, tipping more than a generous amount of the amber liquid into the crystal. "He was different, my father. Not as simpering and spineless as the rest of them. I never knew him well, nor did he make any real effort to spend time with me, other than to make sure I, his only son and heir, was up to standard. But I respected him. One such reason was that he abhorred blood magic. From the moment I first conjured a flame in my hand, he taught me that blood magic was for weaker men–men who weren't smart or capable enough to manage on their own."

Lavellan watched him drown a few more sips, his eyes fluttering with each swallow.

"He never allowed my tutors to discuss blood magic. So many mages in minrathos practice it, and he refused to allow me to be taught by anyone who might encourage the practice. He fired more than a few tutors because they insinuated that I may become stronger by using such magics." Dorian paused for a long while, staring off into nothing. "What a fucking hypocrite."

"How...?" asked Lavellan, though she had a sinking feeling she knew exactly what was coming.

"I was to wed," said Dorian, eyes glassy and hard from the alcohol and the anger. "They had it all arranged. I had been apprenticing under Alexius for four years, and was nearing my thirties. So while I was still at Alexius' home, they met with the Talerio family and came to the decision that I was to marry their eldest daughter. When I came home for Satinalia, they held an elaborate banquet and decided that that was the perfect moment to tell me that my future had all been planned out. Three hundred people watched as my parents informed me that I was to be a husband, and that life as I knew it was subsequently over. Then they introduced me to my bride to be. Her name was Delphine, and she was a talented mage, stunning, beautiful–and from the moment I laid eyes on her I utterly loathed her."

"Was it just because she was a woman?" Lavellan inquired.

"No, it wasn't," Dorian said softly, "It was more than that. It was partially because she was a sour bitch with a stick rammed so high up her backside it sticks out of her nose and I wanted nothing to do with her. It was that my family was forcing me into a marriage they knew I was destined to be miserable in. It was that I would have to hide who I really am for the rest of my life. I found that to be..." Dorian paused, breathing in heavily, eyes hardening as he said, "I found that intolerable, and I told them I was not going to play the part of the perfect son any longer. They knew though, Lavellan. My parents always knew that I did not prefer the company of women. I had always been a rather vocal person, if you can imagine, and I told them of my preferences rather early in life. They disagreed with it, of course. My mother kept saying that it was just a phase and that I would eventually grow out of it. My father meanwhile would often look darkly on me and say that it was fine if kept in the shadows, and I put my duty before any petty sexual desires." Dorian scoffed. "They said this all while knowing I had a lover in the house–one of the slaves who I had known since birth. He name was Talid. We were actually very good friends during my youth, as he was often assigned to entertain me. As we grew older, our interactions become one of a more sexual nature. Whenever I came back to the house, we would spend most nights together. My parents knew about it almost immediately, but ignored it. I suppose they thought it was better because at least I was just fucking a slave, and not someone who really mattered. But it did matter, and he mattered."

"Mattered...or matters?" asked Lavellan, though she already had a fairly good idea of which it was.

"Mattered, and it is all my fault," Dorian whispered.

"What happened?"

Dorian stared right into her eyes, and Lavellan could feel the hairs on her neck stand up.

"They decided to change me" Dorian bit out

"What did they do?" she asked, not wanting any pity to shine through her gaze.

"After I told them I no longer wished to be their political pawn, I went back to Alexius to study and avoided any interaction with my parents. But after several letters from my mother, begging me in her own distant way to come back, I agreed to come for another one of their balls."

He looked into his glass, swirling the contents around, and gave a large sigh. "I had no chance to seek out Talid, as I arrived fashionably late so I couldn't be hounded by the father at first sight. But all the slaves knew I was back and I expected that he would come seek me out that night, so I waited. But hours passed, and he still hadn't showed, so I ventured down to the slave quarters to find him."

"I expected him to be in his room, but when I went inside he wasn't alone. Rather, he was there, bound and gagged and lifeless with two other slaves on the floor. And there was my father, and my want-to-be father in law Magistar Talerio standing in the corner, daggers dripping in both their hands."

Dorian stood up and began frantically pacing around his small room, while Lavellan sat in horror, hands tightly gripping the glass, trying to ground herself in the sensation.

"My father cut off their genitals, sliced off their balls, then carved runes into their flesh and bled them dry. There was blood everywhere; the floor was slick with it and the whole room reeked of the Fade and of the death. He mutilated those poor men, one of my closest friends all to force me to follow the path that he deemed best."

Dorian stopped in the middle of the room, tears falling freely from his eyes.

"I threw a fireball across the room and stopped them from completely the ritual. I remember my father looking furious, trying to seek out who exactly stopped their spell, and his own look of horror when he realized it was me. One of the men, he was new to the house, was still alive, and I sliced his bonds, shot what little healing magic I knew at him, and then..." Dorian looked off, shame emanating from his features, and Lavellan could see the hatred of himself in the lines on his face. "And then I ran. I put barriers up behind me, gather some clothes, a few books, and money, and I ran from my home, and from Minrathos. While on the road, I researched the ritual he used. It gave me something to do while on the road to this charmingly rustic land you call home. His ritual may have worked; the theory behind the magic was sound, but extremely experimental. It could have successfully put me under his thrall, but it also could have left me a drooling vegetable."

Dorian's voice cracked with emotion. "He would have rather had a brain dead son, than one that wanted the freedom to choose who and what he wanted for himself." With that final statement, Dorian collapsed onto his bed, holding his head in his hands.

Lavellan rose in one fluid motion, and knelt on the floor in front of him. She slowly pried his hands from his face, and held them tight in her own.

"You will never be the man he wanted you to be" she said, her voice tight. "And that makes all difference. You are better than anything he could dream up for you, and you deserve to live the way you choose. You are here, and can make whatever decision, good or terrible, all for yourself."

Dorian gave her a small smile. "Thank you" he said softly, and they sat there for a moment, hands entwined, simply enjoying the others presence and peace for another moment.

Eventually, he hauled her up next to him on the bed and put his large human arm around her slight shoulders.

"It is a good thing the ritual failed. I wouldn't be the person I am not, and I rather like this Dorian." His tone was teasing, and she could tell his spirits were lifting.

"You are not the only one" she said back, smiling up at him.

"At any rate, I think it is appropriate to get even more spectacularly drunk, wouldn't you agree?" he asked.

"I do, though I will say that I think we should leave the expensive, depressing, imported liquor for another time. Maybe something cheaper?"

"Well I do have an obscene fondness for Ferelden beer" Dorian said, looking both horrified at his own admission, and excited at the prospect of drinking his guiltily pleasure.

"The Heralds Rest it is!" cried Lavellan.

"After you, my darling Inquisitor" Dorian stuck out his arm, and off they went to round up Bull, Varric, and possibly Sera, and drown out their sorrows in cheap beer, and the company of those who, if only for a while, could help to chase the demons away.

A/N: I have always wondered the specifics of what happened to Dorian in Tevinter. It is hinted at in the game, but I would have loved the gory details, so I just made some up myself. Hope you liked this, and please let me know what you think! Kudos and reviews are fantastic, and thanks so much to those who have done so already :) Also, if anyone has any suggestions/ideas for future chapters, I would love to hear them!