"Not me," he echoes in agreement. "Alti who go to Seheron – those that truly fight, that is, and not those who treat it as a novel way to spend their autumn break – are those who feel they have few options. They're the fourth-in-lines, the afterthoughts and back-up heirs, who stand to inherent very little. They have something to prove and decide killing Qunari and those sympathetic to the Qun is the way to do it.

"I, on the other hand, had my future planned for me. I was to excel at my studies and climb the ranks in the Circle. Then, I was to marry a finely bred woman of my parents' choosing and sire at least one or two little children, whose care would be left in the hands of capable and austere nannies. After that, I'd ingratiate myself to the Archon and become the darling of the Imperial Senate, hoping all the while that the Archon would see fit to declare me his successor."

Dorian falls silent for a second, frowning down at his lap. He's not sure if he's ever admitted this aloud. Maybe to Alexius, maybe to Felix. He's not sure.

"I chose necromancy because I found it interesting. In Tevinter, some spirits are bound and kept as servants – though they aren't tethered to corpses, as they would be in Nevarra – and I was fascinated by it. I knew it was exceedingly difficult to master, having to open oneself up to spirits to pull them across the Veil, having to exert one's willpower over them to obey one's commands.

"And most importantly, I knew my parents would find it incredibly repugnant."