Dorian Pavus

re: his father

Headcanon: Dorian tries to send letters, but they never make it past the fireplace. He doesn’t know what to say, how to say, “I’m still hurt, still angry at how you tried to change me, but I know you’re sorry. I know you know you did wrong. I know you want to fix things. I want to fix things, too.” 

Halward Pavus has only thought his apologies, not quite capable of writing them down because that would mean admitting he was wrong in every way to treat his son like a spell. He tries to talk to his wife, but she hasn’t quite forgiven him either. She doesn’t talk to her husband, but she sends birds to her son: he doesn’t always respond, and when he does, he snaps. She drinks. Halward doesn’t ask. The house is silent. Dorian drinks a lot, but he doesn’t talk about his family with anything but biting derision. 

No one has any idea how much this hurts. Not until he lets them know.