#dorianweek2025

Dorian — Would you rather I had filled the page with platitudes? Begged you to reconsider? It is as simple as this: I miss you terribly. You know this already, yet you do not come. At this point, I know nothing I write will change this, so I am done pleading for you to act as my lover rather than my penpal. I remember a rare warm morning in Halamshiral, after that wretched ball. I remember the reticence with which you greeted me, how tidily you kept your hands to your pockets despite how you'd clung to me on the balcony. I remember your fears: people will talk, you said. Orlesian nobles are terrible gossips, you said. My reputation was at stake, you said, no matter how I argued. I am realizing, now, that it was your own reputation you sought to protect — you grip it tighter than you ever did my hand. I should have seen it sooner, with you maintaining the professional facade even after I'd sacrificed my name for you, with your abrupt departure, with you forbidding me from Tevinter. But there is no use to these thoughts anymore. As always, it boils down to this: I miss you. You do not come. There is little more to be said on the matter until you decide how much you value my presence in your life. There is a deadline for this appraisal. The Inquisition has been summoned once again to Halamshiral for an Exalted Council to decide our fate: subsumed into Orlais, or disbanded entirely. As I write this, we are preparing the caravan for the journey; the whole wretched affair should be over within a matter of weeks. It should not surprise you that I intend to disband the Inquisition. I assume you will have questions about this. You will have an opportunity to ask them. When the matter is settled, I will be visiting you in Minrathous. I have a rather important proposal for you — an idea that might allow us to see one another more regularly, even with your reluctance to travel. I would prefer to have the conversation in person, even if only for the excuse to touch the hand that pens these letters, irritating as they may often be. A small part of me wishes to apologize for trodding over the line you've drawn between us, but the majority has resolved to ignore it. I am visiting you, and I am not asking permission. I cannot stomach another "no". I will write when I return to Skyhold with my estimated date of arrival. I would appreciate if you could prepare a guest room for me, though depending on the results of your appraisal, an inn will suffice. Despite my tone, the heart of the matter remains unchanged: I love you. I miss you. And I will see you soon. Yours still, Renan