outofthebreach | IC Inbox

Not many, I'll grant you, but yes, years. The Inquisition has been quite busy in that time— their power has continued to grow, so much so that both Ferelden and Orlais feel threatened by its existance.

[He pauses for a moment, frowning as he reaches out across the table to take one of Brennan's hands, because there is a far more personal note he must address before they go any further.]

It gave me no pleasure to leave, and I would not have done so if it had not been necessary. It was always meant to be temporary. I cannot stress enough that I did not leave you.

[Only in a physical sense, and it had been quite difficult for him to do in the first place.]

Dorian. Unless I tagged along with you, leaving the Inquisition is still mostly leaving me.

[ He tries to keep the joking tone light, but there's a true note of sorrow in his voice he tries to cover over. He'd known it was inevitable - he supports what he knows Dorian feels he must do, and has never held that against him. He hadn't realized their time would come to an end so quickly, though. At least in Dorian's time. It now feels looming for him when - if? - he returns to his time back home.

He doesn't want to think about that. It... hurts, even if he hasn't lived through it yet. But he doesn't want Dorian to feel guilt for following where his responsibilities lead. He can't, not when he would do no less. ]

But it sounds as if we've both been busy regardless then. [ He pauses to give a quiet scoff. ] It would just figure that the one and only time Orlais and Ferelden would stop bickering amongst themselves long enough to agree on anything would be to bitch about someone usurping their power.

[It's enough to lead him to sideline any further explanation of the greater situation at hand, even if only for a moment. Brennan may not want to think about it, but the expression on Dorian's own face darkens, openly conflicted. It pains him to know that hearing about that particular facet of the future must hurt, that sharing it may as well have been sliding a knife right between Brennan's ribs— or so he must imagine, given how that single note in his voice makes him feel, despite Brennan's attempt to keep things light.]

Amatus, had I any other option...

[He'd meant to come back. He hadn't wanted to stay away as long as he had; he'd written countless letters, but of course that had always left them both wanting. Seeing one another at Halamshiral should have been a glorious reunion for the both of them despite the circumstance, and yet it had been tainted by loss and deception.

For all of his own sarcasm, for all his insistence that Brennan keep the fact that he even had feelings a secret from everyone else, Dorian would not let it be thought that there was any part of him that intended to stay gone.]

It is not forever. Whatever challenges may arise, here or otherwise, you must know I am ever at your side. There is nothing that could keep me away for long. My work is important to me, but you are even moreso.

Hey.

[ Brennan's voice is quiet as he gives Dorian's hands a squeeze before lifting them to his lips to brush a light kiss against his knuckles. His gaze is serious and warm as he meets the mage's gaze. ]

I know, Dorian. We've talked of this before. And you know I support the changes you want to bring to Tevinter. I always have, and they certainly need a magister like you. Desperately, in fact, even if they do not yet realize it. It's your turn to change the world for the better. I just hadn't realized how quickly that time would come.

Although it seems we've both been given a brief reprieve, for the time being. But Dorian, it doesn't matter how far you have to go. It doesn't change any of this. [ He uses one hand to gesture to the both of them, his tone earnest. ]

[He's quite for a moment, taking several beats to allow all of that to sink in, to convince himself that it's okay to let himself be reassured— that Brennan understands, however much it may hurt the both of them. He exhales, giving his partner's hand a squeeze in reply once his lips fall away from his own knuckles, a faint smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.]

No, it does not change this.

[And whatever is to come, whatever is ahead of them— he won't allow that to change either.]

It's funny that you should mention the magisterium now. I had been hoping to continue working with Maevaris from the outside— there's still plenty to be done even without holding a seat— but it seems that there are others who care little for my plans.

[His tone is light, but thinly veiling something far more somber. This, too, is something he'll need to share, and perhaps sooner rather than later.]

When I last saw you, I had been sent to Halamshiral as an ambassador. It was shortly after that I received the news— my father has passed away.

[His expression darkens slightly, an implication in its own right that it was not of natural causes.]

[ His grip tightens for a moment as he picks up the nuance tucked away both in Dorian's tone and his words. His gaze narrows on his lover for a moment as he picks apart that information.

It doesn't take him long to make a few guesses of his own. And he doesn't like any of them. ]

That was... sudden.

[ But he searches Dorian's face all the same. The mage's relationship with his father was complicated, to say the least, and he wasn't sure how this news had been received. ] I'm sorry, Dorian.

Indeed.

[It certainly had been sudden— and the timing of it had been all too convenient. His relationship with his father was strained at best, but that alone made processing it even more difficult. He frowns, just a touch. Even now, he's not certain how to feel, but Brennan will be able to catch something resembling sorrow in his gaze, regret despite his efforts to remain neutral.]

I suspect he knew what was to come, and arranged for me to be made an ambassador to protect me. The fact remains that his seat in the magisterium has become vacant.

[And while Dorian has fancied himself a consultant until now, a lesser political player who let Maevaris do all of the official speaking for their party... the magisterium itself wants much more from him now, and it's an opportunity he would be remiss to squander.]

It wasn't an accident. Was it.

[ That's also not really a question. His voice is quiet and subdued as he searches Dorian's face, his heart aching for the mage.

But that also paints a much clearer picture of the state of things in Tevinter. ]

...How much danger are you in back home, Dorian?

[A fair question— both of them, really— and likely inevitable as well.]

No, it was not. He was assassinated.

[There's a darkness that moves across his gaze; he is not worried for himself, though perhaps he should be. Anyone in their right mind would, most likely, but that's not the sort of thing that worries him regarding his taking over his father's seat. He's convinced he can take care of himself, knows that he and Maevaris have already done a great deal to protect themselves from those who might disagree with their unwanted opinions, but there is always the chance it won't be enough.

Instead, he's worried about Brennan.]

Whatever danger I am in, it is not nearly as much as you are, amatus. The Inquisition has been compromised— the entire council at Halamshiral was derailed by the involvement of Qunari spies.

[ He winces at the mention of assassination. Something he'd suspected, yes - it was hardly unheard of in Tevinter - in any of the high courts mired in intrigue, honestly. But that this had touched so closely to Dorian... that sent a shiver of dread down his spine for more reasons than he can even name at the moment.

But of course his lover tries to deflect this back and away from the threat he himself faces - that surprises him little either. Although the news he brings is... not at all what Brennan had expected, honestly.

Still, he reaches out to give Dorian's hand a warm squeeze in understanding, even as one corner of his lips tips upwards in a wry expression halfway between amusement and exasperation. ]

Me being in danger is nothing new, love. I think that may pretty much be a given on any day ending in 'y' at this point. Although the Qunari is... hmm. I'm guessing this isn't as simple as them still having their horns twisted over the whole Bull thing, is it?

When have we ever been so fortunate as to have something be simple?

[His response carries as much levity as he can manage; it's quick and sharp and seeks the humor in a situation where there is, honestly, very little to be found. Regardless, his fingers twitch beneath Brennan's touch, grateful for the offer of comfort and understanding. Even without words to draw attention to it, he knows what it means, and he deeply appreciates it.]

It has to do with the magic of the mark you bear, and the orb that came before it. There is also the matter of Solas.

[There's no mirth in his voice now, not even a half-hearted attempt at it.]

He returned long enough to help rout the Qunari threat, largely unseen, but he is no ally of ours.

Ever trying to be the mysterious elvhen, even after everything, I see.

[ There's a note of exasperation in his tone as he shakes his head. It had been no secret that his friendship - as it were - with Solas had often been complicated at best and fractious at worst. Granted, the scholar had been inordinately fun to annoy on many occasions, even if that often led to his ear being bent over this mundane historical lecture or that.

He would not deny the help the mage had been along the way, however dubious his motivations and ambitions may have been. Brennan is quite certain the Inquisition never would have gotten as far as it had without the apostate. At the very least, the aftermath of Haven would not have led to the sanctuary and safety it did, let alone the events of discovering the means of Corypheus' downfall. ]

The fact that he returned to rout such a threat when we needed him to might belie those words, Dorian. You know he's far from my favorite person but Solas' purposes have ever been his own. It did not keep him from being what we needed, when we needed it.

[For as complex and often confrontational as his own feelings regarding the supposed hedge mage were, Dorian would never deny that he had been a critical member of the Inquisition, that they would never have come as far as they had without him. He exhales slowly before nodding in response, his lips pulling into a tight and mirthless smile for a moment.]

It is more complicated than even I have words for— and you know full well that I never run out of those— but I will concede on that point. I know there are many obstacles we would not have surmounted without him, and in this particular instance... it is entirely possible that he saved your life where I could not, and there is a large part of me that is grateful for that.

[Whatever else he may feel, that much remains certain.]

That said, you did not part well, though I will say I do not think it brought him any joy to turn his back to you. He has an army, amatus, one to rival the Inquisition’s own, and his true identity has come to light.

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