A/N: Sexytimes, finally! This chapter is NSFW.
And that was how Aodhan ended up in his current state of disarray at the Starlit Bower, sitting in the Madame's office in a large, overly plush chair with his feet drawn up into the seat, cradling a glass of wine close to his chest like something precious. Even this room, meant largely for entertaining customers who weren't there for the staff this particular evening and for the Madame's comfort while balancing her books, was decorated in mossy greens and soft browns, the walls covered in a perfect tromp l'oeil of endless forest, the ceiling as a twilit sky flush with stars, which were actually tiny chips of enchanted crystal and in some rooms the only lighting. In here the light level was currently low, the sort of warm glow one would expect around a bonfire.
It was an awkward hour, he knew, but Madame Seren was used to keeping awkward hours with the nature of her business. When she floated into the room from the back door, which Aodhan had always assumed went to her own private rooms, she wore only a thin slip of a blue dress and a silver robe. Floated really was the only way to describe how smoothly, effortlessly she moved, ethereal and graceful as one would expect a true child of Arlathan, her flaxen hair long and wild, blue eyes piercing as the midday sun in her delicately structured face. She offered him a smile, the secret, true one Aodhan knew she reserved for friends, and he tried to smile back.
She settled down into the chair behind her desk and reached across for the glass and wine bottle that had been left with Aodhan by serving staff. "You look like you've had an exceptionally rough evening."
Aodhan nodded, tried to sip-not gulp-his own wine. "Its not very interesting, I assure you. But it made me decide I should get some business over with. The Senate's finally noticed."
Seren's lips twisted into a tight little frown, and she delicately sipped her own wine. "I suppose I should be grateful it took them this long. And this likely means someone has been indiscreet. It shouldn't be too difficult to find out who."
"Reign them in, whoever it is," Aodhan shifted, wedging himself into the chair a little more comfortably. "Now we have to decide what to do to mollify the Powers That Be, turn their gaze away for a while. I could make some issue of a recent scandal of my own that might distract the board."
"The slave?" Her voice was smooth and rich as the wine when Aodhan poured another glass. He nodded. "I hear you've lost as much as you've gained."
"And it's absolutely not worth it." Aodhan scowled down at his wine for a moment, unwilling to look up and find himself surrounded by a familiar shade of green. "I mean to send him off with a friend, but she can't leave until some other business of mine is conducted." This time he failed at taking just sips. Wine wasn't the best way to drown his sorrows, but it would likely keep him in a more manageable state than the half-blind drunk he'd been trying to avoid for months. "The problem is that he's attractive. Not just his body-there's fire in him, and intelligence, somewhere under all his submission. I don't have time and safety to draw that out, so he's a distraction. My friend would be good for him. She has the time and just enough safety."
"You could use a distraction, dear. Or a few. You deny yourself too much. If you're not going to spend time on getting the lovely fellow in working order you should come by more often." Seren stood, came around the desk and grasped Aodhan's free hand with her delicate, slender one, drew him up and led him out of the room. "We've a matched pair now, they started about a month ago. A brother and sister from Antiva-they came highly recommended by a brothel I've been in touch with in Rialto. I think you'll like them."
Every time Seren made this sort of offer Aodhan questioned whether it was right or not. Seren had come by her freedom as something of a minor accident, one Aodhan had a guiding hand in after seeing the woman on display at another Senator's estate. She'd never quite been broken and it was part of her appeal, or so the Senator had told him, gloating over all sorts of horrors the woman had endured and yet she remained wild and beautiful. Once she was out she'd approached Aodhan for a little loan-she knew her talents and knew that she would have to use them to get by. He'd promised her more than a little if she'd accept his help in establishing her business but keep his involvement quiet. Since those early days Aodhan had retreated fully from meddling in Seren's affairs, as she was plenty competent to run the brothel on her own, and he took no cut from her profits. All the employees were free or were working with Seren for their manumission papers. Aodhan knew it shouldn't guilt him as it usually did-those who didn't want to be here left as soon as they had the money, which was relatively quick with how popular the place was among wealthier clientele.
Tonight it guilted him doubly, because he kept thinking back to the shameful kiss he'd indulged in earlier, and worried he might be too worked up for this-or it wouldn't be enough after that kiss, the thought of that sort of shame hounding him just as much. By the end of the all too short trip to the lounge Aodhan was already quaking like a terrified virgin, and Seren stopped just sort of the door to give his hand, still caught in hers, a little squeeze.
"Dearest," she murmured, her voice soft and gentle like an evening breeze, "no one's going to make you do anything if you're truly in such a state. But think about it, please; it might do you some good."
Aodhan took a moment to gather himself together, and drained his glass of wine before setting it aside on a table in the corner near the door. This was, after all, the second most natural thing in the world.
There were others in the lounge, actively enticing clients or chatting with each other and each of them looking the perfect Dalish noble savage, but he knew the two newcomers immediately, not because he'd met everyone else previously but because they were presented in a different fashion. They sat together in a luxurious nest of pillows against one wall, the woman sitting up and the man reclined with his head in her lap. They were elven, yes, as everyone else here, but dressed as travelers or merchants, their clothes of fine cut and rich colors but not too rich in appearance. Aodhan wondered what they were supposed to be, and whether they were well-received here in Tevinter where the lines were so much more heavily drawn between the races. They were twins, certainly, not identical but similar enough that he could tell, their hair the same just-off-black, their eyes rich and chocolatey brown, the same broad cut to their faces and the same rich gold in their skin. That they were Antivan was beyond question. They looked breathtaking together.
Seren made introductions: the woman was Iliana, the man Celio, and Seren simply introduced Aodhan as, "A very dear friend of mine, and a very important man. We are all better off if you do not ask his name."
"Sit with us for a moment," Iliana said, her voice bright as a jewel in the sun, her accent only just detectable. They drew apart, made room for him, and he sat as invited.
"You look like you have had a rough day." The man's voice was deep and sensuous, and it sent a shiver down Aodhan's spine, his eyes nearly fluttering shut for a moment. It wasn't the gravel he'd grown so fond of lately, but it was a strong voice, the sort of voice he could melt into.
Aodhan nodded slightly, and Iliana began running her fine, strong fingers through his hair, an affectionate repetitive motion, setting it back in a more reasonable state and soothing him. "I've spent too much of the past month wanting things beyond my reach." Which was as close to an admission as he'd given anyone, somehow more shameful because it was more than lust. What he wanted wasn't right to ask of one so recently a slave who likely didn't understand; what he had been offered little more than an hour ago wasn't quite enough to satisfy, and too much to take.
"Then do not think." Iliana shifted and drew him back to lean against her bosom, and her warm breath brushed his ear just before her lips. "We will do all that for you."
Aodhan nearly grimaced, because they'd read him so very well-but it was a whore's job to know what a person wanted, what role they preferred to play. Celio straddled him, strong and nimble hands finding the catches on Aodhan's shirt, fingertips trailing skin when they found it. "No-name." The man smiled down at him, as if this were a clever joke. "What can we call you?"
"Shay." When he needed a name in the seedier parts of Minrathous, it was what he went by-the right people knew what it meant, and the wrong people just saw some Fereldan.
"Shay," he repeated, deep voice full of lust. The very last catch on Aodhan's shirt undone, Celio's fingers traced up along his collarbone, and the man leaned in to kiss him.
It was nothing like the nervous kiss earlier this evening, and if anything Aodhan was passive this time. It was enough to light a fire in his loins, and when Celio pressed against him, feeling the other man's hardness against his own growing ache, Aodhan decided that Seren was right.
He didn't come here nearly often enough. With Iliana kissing and nipping her way around the back of his neck, hands wandering freely, Celio's lips locked with his in what was probably the most sensuous kiss of his life, Aodhan was quickly falling to Iliana's suggestion.
Celio began kissing his way down, lips and tongue finding every sensitive bit of skin between the little spot just beneath Aodhan's ear, leaving a love bite or two on the way, soft marks that would fade before the evening was out, and Aodhan's nipples, where the whore lingered for a while, nipping and teasing, hands still wandering. For a moment Aodhan was aware of the lusty stares they were drawing from other patrons, the admiring looks from some of the whores, and the thought that he was being made a spectacle only made Aodhan harder, more vocal in his pleasure.
By the time they led him upstairs Aodhan was half-undressed, pants unlaced, hair mussed again, and not really sure how he'd ended up this way. It didn't much matter, because he wasn't the one in charge here, and he needed that. Things seemed a little muzzy, but it was the alcohol, the lust for intimacy-because that was what he really wanted, just to be close to someone for a while, guiltless.
He wasn't sure about all the steps in between-everything seemed to be happening in a pleasant jumble, a haze occasionally punctuated by soft lips, a caress, a sweet word, and Aodhan decided he'd probably drunk far more than he realized tonight-but Aodhan ended up fully naked, on his knees and elbows over Iliana on a plush bed, one hand tangled up in her beautiful hair and kissing his way across her full breasts. He'd only been with a woman once, but Iliana was so very sweet and this seemed so natural, Celio's hands stroking down his flank and that lovely dark voice whispering encouragement. For an instant, somewhere in his mind they were other people, familiar and loving, but the thought fled quickly under his haze.
One of Iliana's hands found his chin, fingernails trailing gently through the light scruff already growing back from this morning, and she drew him up into a kiss, twining her other hand into his hair. She tasted like exotic spices and wine, and this was somewhere very close to bliss.
Pain tore through the haze, blinding white and razor sharp, from Aodhan's lower back and angled up. He cried out, tried to draw away, but Iliana held him close, kissing him passionately, Celio touched him, spoke soothing words, but it wasn't the first time Aodhan had been shivved with a stiletto-a pair, actually, and that was a first-and when the blades drew free he knew exactly what was going on. Iliana was strong, her grip a threat that she'd snap his neck if he tried to draw away, and as he realized he was well and truly fucked Aodhan started to panic.
And then he started laughing into the kiss, a great, heavy laugh that shook his whole body and Iliana had to draw back. Of all the dooms the Maker could've chosen for him, this was probably the most ironic and fitting, but he surely wasn't going to make it any easier. His hands were still on her breasts, and it was simple enough to channel magic, the very first thing that came to him, the elemental gift from his mother's blood.
Iliana screamed, wailing like the whore she was, begging her brother to help, but it stopped quickly enough when the air in her lungs grew scarce, her heart froze solid in her chest. Celio stabbed at him again, but it was in vain; Aodhan relinquished control of his magic, and the cold spilled out as surely and swiftly as his heart's blood. When Aodhan gathered enough of his strength and senses to reel on his assassin, the man was clutching an arm pale and stiff with frost to his chest, staring at him in horror for only a moment before running for the the room's only window. Apparently, risking the fall was better than sharing his sister's fate. Aodhan agreed, and began tottering for the door.
When Aodhan grasped for the door handle his hand slipped, leaving a bloody streak that quickly began to crystallize. It was cold, getting colder... He tried again, though the handle was fully frozen now and brittle metal creaked when he opened the door. He stumbled to the head of the stairs, the rug crackling under his bare feet. For a moment it wasn't a brothel in Tevinter, it was Korcari in winter, his breath coming in weak little puffs of smoke and the marsh an endless field of slush... Mother had told them not to go exploring, that the shadows in the sky had only been birds, not the dragon Carver swore he saw winging through the pale morning. Carver had been insistent, and Aodhan said he'd take his younger brother. Father had just given him an approving nod, affirmation that he thought Aodhan was capable. Now when he looked back Carver wasn't there, and he wondered dimly when they'd gotten separated. It was cold, so very cold, and perhaps he should just lay down... Father had said that when you're lost, if you know someone is looking for you, you should find a safe place to wait for them, and maybe a nap would be just the trick...
There were stairs again, with a grass green runner trailing down them, the area just beneath his feet stiff with ice and slick with blood. He needed Seren, needed to tell her... tell her they hadn't been what they seemed, and he was sorry about the room, and the carpet here. He only slid twice, and by the time he managed those last few stairs and ended up on his knees leaning against the wall at the base one of the workers was standing there watching, hands to her mouth, eyes wide. She stepped back daintily from the blood and creeping frost, nearly nipping at her perfect bare toes.
After blinking Aodhan was on the floor somehow, face down, his arms pinned under his chest and he couldn't move at all, the weight of his life far too heavy. In a moment of clarity he thought, I need Anders. But Anders was lost to him forever, lost in Vengeance's mad quest, and Aodhan wasn't sure there'd ever been anything true between them anyway. So barring Anders here to magic him back together and berate him for being reckless before telling him everything would be alright, Aodhan wanted his siblings. If he were to die, it should at least be with his family, not alone in a whorehouse. Not like Mother... that was who he wanted, Mother, who despite her utter lack of magic would somehow make everything right, or at least make it seem like it was going to be alright.
But when darkness found him it wasn't his family Aodhan dwelt on, but a single, sinful kiss, and the thought that if he made it out of this Maker strike him down but it couldn't get any worse, if Fenris was worth dying in a whorehouse for—because this had to be Danarius' doing—then he was worth the months and years it would take to teach him how to be a free man, and worth waiting for.
Somewhere in the darkness there were hands on his back, a hand on his neck, slick and warm despite the cold. "I'm sorry." A familiar voice, soft and comforting as an evening breeze.
He woke up sitting on Kirkwall's Chantry steps, blinking at the sudden light and shivering despite the warmth. The square was full of people as usual, including a chanter silently posting notices to the board, but they were all strangely faceless, features melting from memory as soon as they passed. "Master! I have him!"
Aodhan jerked around to see Feynriel standing behind him on the steps, but not the scared half-elven child from Kirkwall, instead the young man with strong features in stately Magister's robes. He smiled gently, beaming confidence, and it washed over Aodhan more warmly than the bright sun. "Its going to be alright, Hawke." Feynriel stepped down and sat next to him. "Just stay here with me, and we'll be alright." Feynriel opened his arms as if offering an embrace, and Aodhan felt strangely compelled to accept it, so he did. He laid his head against the young man's shoulder, and there was only an offer of solace here, of overwhelming calm. And warmth; the cold was seeping out of him finally. Some part of his mind struggled to analyze what Feynriel was doing, but mostly he didn't care. After all, he could think of much worse company to have during his dying moments in the Fade.