Time seemed to pass by slowly in the ruins. It seemed like eons since he’d taken up residence in the ancient, crumbling relic of a time when Tevinter dominated the world. Only the slow decay of the poor bastard who’d guarded them before reminded him that it hadn’t been nearly that long. At first, he’d felt angry at the beast. It was his fucking fault! If he’d just said something, if he hadn’t snuck up on him, if he hadn’t snarled at Dorian in the dark of night, things may have been different.
He might not have been dead, and Dorian might not have been the curse’s next target. Fuck, he may have even been able to help the bastard, where he just able to travel beyond the crumbling walls. When he finally realized what he’d done, Dorian had railed and screamed for days, throwing himself against the walls until he was bloody and hoarse, and his pools of mana were thoroughly drained.
And yet, it availed to nothing. The walls held, showing no signs of damage under hands that were bound to protect them. He was caught in yet another cage, one he couldn’t talk, charm or force his way out of. Between fits of rage, Dorian dragged his body down the halls, forcing himself not to look down upon the twisted horror of his body. As if he could actually put it out of his mind when he had talons as long as knives and a glittering, dark tail dragging behind him, hissing across the stones.
It was there, in the heart of this ancient temple to a long abandoned god that he found his way out. Or, at least, a way out. It was there, carved into the walls of what he supposed had once been a library, before its contents had rotted away. The stench of decay hung about the place, but the ancient letters looked as though they were freshly carved and still thrummed with magical power as he ran his palm along them.
Deciphering their meaning took time. Many of the words were lost to his people, but he could make out the gist of it. There was no explanation offered as to why this place bore a curse, only that it did, and he’d fallen prey to it by defending himself and killing that poor, unlucky sod. If he didn’t want to die out here, nameless and forgotten like the last, his only option was to break it.
And breaking it was an impossible task. In one of the most horrible and cruel clichés only one of his sadistic countrymen could dream up, love was the cure. Mutual love and acceptance- true love’s kiss. A concept he’d never believed in. Something he’d never find, especially now that the curse had twisted his body and robbed him of his looks.
He’d laughed bitterly when he’d first read the inscription, and he felt his heart break. Dorian still hadn’t managed to pick up the pieces and stitch them back together, months after he read them. Perhaps if he’d been himself, and not some dreadful amalgamation of human and drake, he might have stood a chance.
This place wouldn’t even let him wither away. Every night, the old, broken table bore food-real food, though its origins were lost on Dorian. He wasted hours upon hours trying to glean some sort of insight into the how and why, yet no answers manifested themselves. He still sometimes searched it for answers, even months after magically appearing meals became mundane, but it was more a matter of pride than anything else. He could live with not knowing if it meant getting out of here.
He wished escape was so simple. Ignorance was a small price to pay for freedom from this maddening loneliness. With nothing to do but prowl the crumbling halls, the monster that had once been a man found himself pacing like a dog waiting for its master to return. Even a simple caravan passing by excited him, but the few travelers who passed him by raced away once they saw his drooling maw. Stories spread of the beast, trying to lure people to their dooms, and soon, even the most adventurous caravans gave him a wide berth.
It was then that he understood true loneliness.
