Chapter 8: Where Magic Rules

Cassandra wouldn't stay long, but before she left she called Theo into a private meeting. Though they were officially married now, Theo was still the Inquisitor and Cassandra still the Divine, and there was only so much politically that Dorian could be privy to. So he spent the afternoon packing what he could. He had no doubt that once he returned to Tevinter his father would be sending for tailors; Dorian had never fully abandoned his Tevinter style, but even he had to admit there was a bit too much southern flair to his look now. He'd never quite transitioned over to the ridiculous and impractical robes that southern mages wore; but his leather mage armor was soft and worn, and the Vyrantium Samite enchanted robe he regularly wore over it was dulled from his many travels. Perhaps going home would be good, if just for the improvements to his wardrobe.

"Packing already."

Dorian turned to see Theo at the top of the stairs. He looked pale and tired, as if the happiness of the other day had drained him completely. His stubble was bordering on scruff once more, and he kept his left hand clenched in a tight fist curled against his stomach. "You look horrible," Dorian told him, dropping a robe in his trunk. "The meeting with Cassandra did not go well, I take it."

Theo shook his head. He made his way over to Dorian's wardrobe and thumbed through the clothes that Dorian hadn't yet selected. He pulled a few things out and laid them on the bed next to Dorian's open trunk. "Ferelden thinks we're encroaching on their borders," he finally said. "And Orlais wouldn't mind having more of a say in how we run."

"And what did you say to that?"

He sighed. "That Ferelden is paranoid and Orlais can go… well, use your imagination," Theo said, but he wasn't smiling. "Orlais owes us too large a debt to think they have that kind of power, essentially." He stared at the floor.

"Wrong answers, I take it."

"You know me. I've never been the brightest candle politically." He still didn't smile. "After the Frostback Basin incidents… well… Cassandra's been trying to mediate this all behind the scenes for a long time, but if she keeps it up she won't be politically neutral any longer. She took a big risk marrying us. The best she could do was call an Exalted Council, where Ferelden, Orlais, and the Chantry will meet with the Inquisition and we'll decide what happens next." Theo's voice was steady, but strained.

"When?"

"As soon as a fortnight, as far out as two months." Theo fell back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. "I keep running everything through my mind over and over and I can't think of what I did wrong," he said.

"You're powerful," Dorian told him, reclining next to him. He stared up at the beams of the ceiling. "It doesn't matter that you've done everything you can for the good of Thedas. You're powerful, and that challenges some people, and frightens others. I saw it all the time back home. Power requires a certain ratio of risk and caution. Overly cautious Magisters usually get nothing done and aren't remembered. But overly risky ones usually turn up dead of mysterious causes sooner rather than later."

"Is there room in your trunk for me? I don't think I'd take up too much space," Theo said, turning and smiling slightly at Dorian.

"Much as I would adore having you along…." Dorian sighed. "Orlais and Ferelden are essentially fighting over the Inquisition. I'm sure Tevinter is watching, waiting to see how this will play out. It's no coincidence, my being summoned home at this time." He grimaced.

"This is the second time in just minutes you've mentioned Tevinter as 'home'," Theo told him.

"It's where I was born and raised. You can take me out of Tevinter, but you'll never take Tevinter out of me," Dorian told him. He rolled onto his side. "This is also home, Amatus. You're my husband now. Let me go back and see what the situation is. Let's get through this council. And then we can decide on what we truly wish for our future." Dorian ran his fingers through Theo's hair. "I'm putting in my vote now for quiet retirement. Someplace warm, and preferably with a high wall and a locked gate so no one can disturb us."

"I'm loving this idea already." Theo leaned in and kissed him.

"I'm full of good ideas, Amatus."

It had been years since Dorian had been in the Imperium. He'd left without looking back, though he'd long held his homeland in his heart. It made for a difficult journey as he considered what home truly meant to him now, in light of Theo's comment.

His tent was chilly and empty during the nights they spent camping, moving ever north and west with a contingent of Cullen's best soldiers and Leliana's stealthiest scouts. The closer he came to the borders of the Tevinter Imperium, the more he wondered why he'd been summoned now of all times. Dorian fluffed the thin pillow as much as he could and stared at the darkened tent wall, absently twisting his golden band on his left hand. He also knew he'd have to face his father. The last time he'd seen Halward he'd made it clear that he didn't have it in him to forgive his father for all he'd done. He still wasn't sure that he did.

Theo had forgiven Bann Trevelyan; so much of the gulf in their relationship had been the result of mixed communication and expectations and religious politics. Halward Pavus, on the other hand, had completely betrayed his son. There was nothing mixed about understanding that. But after facing his father two and a half years ago, Dorian no longer felt the seething bitterness of betrayal; just a wariness and a weariness about the inevitable reunion.

Dorian knew it the moment they crossed the border from Orlais into Tevinter. Only once had he come back this route, and the experience hadn't been pleasant. But somehow, this time he knew. The air was warmer, with humidity drifting in from the Nocen Sea. He breathed deep and the warm breeze brought the scent of a nearby citrus grove. A funny pang lodged deep in his stomach as he thought of growing up, wealthy and privileged, in a land where magic ruled. He was home.

Minrathous was old. No one could say just how old, but it was well-documented that some of the very oldest buildings still stood at the very center of the city. The city had been built up and out and now stood as the glittering jewel of the Imperium. Even if Tevinter wasn't what it once had been, it was still glorious, and it was still Dorian's home. Coming here, after nearly four years away, made him realize just how much of himself he'd left behind. Of course, he'd found more than he'd ever hoped to find, he thought, feeling the alien weight of the gold band on his finger. But in truth, he'd missed being in Tevinter.

Dorian tried to remain relaxed and poised in the carriage as it bumped up and down over the uneven cobblestones, but he felt a tingling in his pores that he'd not felt since leaving the Imperium's borders. Even places of magic and power in the south of Thedas hadn't had the same draw or strength as the Imperium did. It was a gentle thrum that sang through his veins, reminding him that magic had made the city, and that he possessed magical ability. Magic brought everything together.

Of course not all was this sense of magical joy. Soporati beggars clustered in crumbling alcoves, dusty rags draped over their frail bodies. Ten, twenty years ago he probably wouldn't have given them a second glance, but that was before seeing the things he'd seen with the Inquisition. He'd been in a place where mages were treated not much better than these beggars. He dug into his pockets and pulled out a fistful of coins. The Inquisition's coffers were deep, after all. He slid open the shutter of the window and tossed the coins out. He sighed; the problems caused by the social stratification of Tevinter ran deep, and showed no sign of improvement. He had to wonder if he'd been charitable to make himself feel better, or because he truly thought it would help.

It wasn't long before the carriage rolled up before a massive building with shining marble columns and a bright awning over the noticeably better sidewalk. The horses halted and the carriage door opened. Dorian tried not to squint in the sudden bright sunlight as he climbed out and officially set foot in Minrathous. He thought he was prepared for this. But looking up at the marble buildings, feeling the magic flowing up through the very ground and through his boot soles and into him…

Dorian swallowed a lump in his throat and blinked back the moisture gathering in his eyes: they were tears of joy, yes, but tears no less, and he was determined not to show any perceptible weakness in his first moments back in the Imperium.

He smoothed his wrinkled travel clothes and ran a hand over his hair. He should have been nervous; whose brilliant idea had it been to make him an ambassador? But he felt in his element. This was where he belonged. He strolled into the lobby of the building, adjusting his Pavus family amulet. Down south he had privileges because of his association with the Inquisition, and his relationship with the Inquisitor himself; otherwise a Tevinter mage would never be so tolerated. He didn't kid himself. At least here his position as an Altus mage was truly advantageous.

"Dorian."

His heart skipped a beat at the sound of his name, stated so matter-of-factly in that cultured, almost weary voice that he knew so well, and could make his blood turn cold. His eyes adjusted to the darker interior and he focused on Halward Pavus. "Father," he replied, out of habit, and instantly felt angry with himself. Halward would have been a better greeting, or even Magister Pavus.

"Thank you for coming, Dorian," Halward said. He still hadn't come any closer or made any move, for which Dorian was glad. He was still processing the fact that he was back home; being greeted by Halward himself hadn't ever figured into any of his equations. "I've had rooms prepared for you."

"Here?" Dorian asked, because he didn't know what else to say. His father nodded once, slowly, as if afraid Dorian would lash out. But the way Halward spoke, it sounded as if he had been the one to procure Dorian's new appointment. "Very well then," he said breezily, even though he felt like he was walking into a trap. How far had word of his marriage spread? Would Halward try once again to use blood magic to control his son, or had he learned better?

"Servants will bring your things to your quarters. You must be tired and hungry after your long journey," Halward observed. He started toward Dorian, who reflexively called up his mana, and then he stopped. He stood in a beam of sunlight slicing through the shadows from a high window. The lines of his face were more deeply etched, especially around his eyes and on his forehead, like all he did was worry these days. "Dorian, you will never trust me as a father ever again. I understand that. But as a political ally, I'd like to extend my greetings to Minrathous and ask that you accompany me to dinner."

It was a rehearsed speech, one given begrudgingly as if Halward hadn't wanted it to come to this, but Dorian didn't know how, after all these years, his father could still hope for a relationship. "Thank you Magister. That would be lovely," he said instead and stepped aside to let his father lead the way.

He knew the streets of Minrathous with his eyes closed. He'd grown up in Qarinus, across the sea, and had shuffled between various Circles as a child, and had finally started to feel settled in Minrathous before Alexius had tried to entice him to join the Venatori. For months after finally leaving Tevinter, Dorian had dreamed of Minrathous. Sometimes, the Fade took on the appearance of the capital city. Indeed, he almost had to pinch himself to be certain that he truly was back.

They ended up at a small cafe off the main plaza, and were seated at a secluded table toward the back. "Ashamed to be seen with me?" Dorian asked, looking at the menu rather than at his father.

Halward sighed. "You've made your feelings abundantly clear on many occasions, Dorian," he said. "The last time we spoke, I thought I'd made mine clear as well. While I know you'll never forgive me-"

"I'm glad we're both in agreement on that," Dorian interrupted.

"I thought I might propose a diplomatic partnership between the Magisterium and the Inquisition." Halward held up his wine glass and a servant hurried over with a carafe of red wine. He filled Halward's glass and then Dorian's before stepping back, eyes on the tiled floor. "I only intend to oversee the inception of this. After you are instated you may never need to see me again."

His tone was measured and calm, and this time he did meet Dorian's gaze. There was no challenge there, and if anything, only a touch of regret. "There are things happening in the Magisterium that would be of interest to your Inquisition," Halward said after a moment of silence. "And I'm sure the Inquisition interests the Archon himself."

"I can't see how it wouldn't," Dorian admitted. He sipped at his wine. He took a deep breath. "I would be happy to speak with you and your contacts to find out how the Imperium might be interested in the Inquisition, and then bring my findings back to the Inquisitor and his advisors."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Halward's lips. "Are you not privy to your Amatus's concerns, my son?"

Fucking Halward Pavus. Dorian's cheeks grew warm but he kept himself as relaxed as possible. "Theodane Trevelyan is my Amatus, Magister. Inquisitor Trevelyan is, as his title suggests, my Inquisitor."

"And you've convinced yourself that there is a difference."

"I believe, Magister Pavus," Dorian said, forcing himself to smile pleasantly, "that such information has little bearing on my position as an ambassador of the Inquisition. I've come in good faith to extend the Inquisition's hand to the Imperium, as requested." He took a bite of the delicate salad that had been placed before him.

After that talk drifted to home; Aquinea Thalrassian, Dorian's mother, remained overseeing the manor in Qarinus, while Halward stayed in his Minrathous apartments, and according to Halward, the arrangement suited them well. Dorian didn't doubt it; he'd never seen two people detest each other more than Aquinea and Halward. The Magisterium had a full senate session coming up toward the end of the month, and until then it was a flurry of committee meetings to prepare. "You wouldn't be required to sit in on any of them," Halward said, which Dorian surmised meant that he wouldn't be gaining access to the Magisterium's chambers.

It was just as well. The politics of the Imperium only interested Dorian in so much as he saw the apathy and corruption for what they were. Tevinter could be great, truly great once more: a jewel of Thedas, rather than masquerading as a cheap Orlesian knockoff, but only if it could recall the vibrant days of the past before it started making excuses for itself. Tevinter was the one place in Thedas where magic truly ruled and was not feared. If it collapsed, magic as they knew it could die out.

Dorian wasn't sure which was more unsettling to him: the idea of Tevinter collapsing upon itself at long last, or having no safe haven for magic left in this world.