Dorian couldn't really remember exactly what had happened. The last couple of days has been a blur, a mix of alcohol, fine food and sex.
Oh, there had been so much sex.
Lord Braxin had truly upheld his end of the "agreement" and treated Dorian to everything and anything. Dorian had suspected that the man was experimenting, perhaps testing the waters on what he preferred gender-wise, and Dorian certainly wasn't complaining. In fact, he was more than happy to let Braxin explore, encouraging him with sweet words and moans of passion. Calculated moans, of course; Dorian didn't want to be loud. A habit he had picked up long ago that he found was hard to get rid of.
The explorations became an almost regular thing as Lord Braxin's father was often away and when he was, Braxin often invited Dorian to their estate for "pleasant company" and "discussion" which simply translated to wine, food and fucking.
It would be the closest thing to partnership that Dorian had had since his failed adventures with Cassien, but Dorian was careful to not bring emotions into it. It was purely physical and he made sure it stayed that way. He wasn't going to let himself get hurt like that again.
He probably should have realised that their relations would be noticed. Or to be more precise, he should have cared about it. They weren't exactly subtle about it, not really.
Every time Lord Ulia Abrexis left his estate, Braxin would come to Minrathous to pick Dorian, letting him stay for a few days before returning him. They didn't speak about it, but Dorian had become careless in his flirting with Braxin, his intentions clear in his not-so-carefully selected words.
It had only been a matter of time before someone from his family was going to find him.
The last thing he could remember with somewhat clarity was being in Braxin's embrace, riding him hard, kissing him, feeling him, taking him all in as he was filled up from the inside, high on sex and on alcohol.
The rest was a bit hazy, but he remembered shouting… He remembered pain. And he remembered blood… Maker, there had been so much blood and he couldn't tell who it belonged to.
He had been kept in the dark, literally and figuratively, gagged and blindfolded as rough hands had manhandled him from one place to the next, only letting him free when he needed the privy or needed to eat. Or rather, when they forced him to eat. Those actions alone told him that whoever was behind this wanted him alive and somewhat well, but he couldn't for the life figure out who could be behind it.
Thinking, he discovered, was hard, as his hands were chained in mana-draining cuffs and there was a constant scent of flowery incense surrounding him, keeping him unfocused and drowsy. He couldn't fight and he was too drugged to even care about it.
Time blended together when he was forcefully removed from whatever room he was kept in, transported from one place to the next. He knew some of the trip had been at sea at the very least. The sea had never agreed with him and a classic tell-tale sign of just how poorly he did at sea was his stomach. Or rather, he had thrown up and almost choked on his own vomit before his captures had found him and cleaned him up.
In a way, he wished they hadn't. If he had died, then he didn't have to worry anymore.
Dorian had no idea where he was, how much time had passed or even what time of the day it was when he finally woke up. His body was aching, he felt weak and sore, and just the simple task of opening his eyes left him groaning in pain.
That is when he noticed how… Soft his new location felt.
Soft and it smelt nice… Familiar.
"Oh no…"
Dorian didn't need eyes to see it for himself. He knew where he was. The question was for what reason. Had he been sold back? Rescued?
There was a bad feeling gnawing in his stomach and he felt unsettled. Trapped. He wondered if this was how a caged animal felt like or if this was merely him.
Time slowly went by and he remained alone in the room. The curtains were drawn so he did not know if it was day or night, and he still felt too weak to move. So he slept, trying to regain a sense of self as he did so.
When Dorian next woke up he was greeted by the appearance of his father, but there was no relief on the man's face. No kindness. Only stone-cold anger.
"Dorian."
"Good morning, father," Dorian replied, his voice rough and hoarse from sleep. "I will be honest; I did not expect to see you here."
Dorian had no idea how he managed to sound so calm, so cold himself, when on the inside he was freaking out, but there it was. The carefully crafted Pavus mask. It was like he had never left it; it still fitted perfectly over his face.
"I suspected as much," Halward replied, his voice still cold. Still calm.
It unnerved Dorian to no end.
"Do you know what you have done, Dorian? Do you know what vile rumours are going on now?"
"I am sure you are about to enlighten me, father," Dorian drawled, still fighting the feeling of fatigue.
"Master Dorian Pavus, the whore. The drunkard. The loudmouth. The… The vile sodomiser. Pervert. Degenerate. The list goes on, Dorian!"
Dorian couldn't help himself. He let out a snort and grinned lazily towards his father. "And?"
"Your actions have had serious consequences," Halward said strictly. "Do you know what we have lost? What I have had to do to try and contain this? Our reputation- "
"Our reputation," Dorian sneered as he sat up on the bed, feeling a wave of nausea go through his body. "Is that the only thing you care about? Our reputation? What about me, father?! What about how I feel?"
"You have no right to speak," Halward barked back, his voice hardening. "You are the one who brought the mess to the family name!"
"Bullshit," Dorian yelled, then let out a strangled gasp as he felt a tremor go through his body. He quickly wrapped his arms around himself, feeling as if someone had just dunked cold water over him. That's when he felt it. The hard metal pressing against his upper arm as his hands clenched at his own biceps.
Still trembling, he lifted his hand up so he could see the cold steel that gleamed in the faint light, the traces of glowing runes winking at him. "… you didn't."
"You are out of control, Dorian," Halward replied, his voice back to the calm, icy tone he'd had when he first came into the room.
"And we need to fix it. You are not to leave this house until we find a way to clean up this mess."
"So you are going to keep me here," Dorian asked, eyes wide and his chest heaving after air. "You are trapping me?"
"I am doing what must be done," Halward replied, looking away from his son as he turned to head out of the room. "I am doing what is best for you, Dorian."
Dorian felt something snap inside him as he watched his father leave the room. He let out a yell as he lunged from the bed, his hands flailing as he desperately tried to cast a spell, only to feel that cold surge inside him from the cuffs. He landed on the hard wooden floor with a thud as his legs refused to support his weight, gasping as he felt his body tremble with fatigue and pain.
"Y-you can't do this," he managed to gasp out, lifting his head so he could look at his father's retreating back.
Halward didn't answer; he didn't even look at Dorian as he opened the door and slipped outside. The sound of the door locking almost echoed in the now silent bedroom, leaving Dorian gasping for air as he stared at his bedroom door with an almost bewildered look. Then he let out a yell of anger as he got back onto his feet, stumbling, then crashing into the door before he started slamming his hands hard against the wooden surface. "You cannot do this!" he yelled, his voice hoarse and desperate. "Father! Father, you cannot do this!"
There were no answers to his desperate cries and knocking, but he didn't give up. Instead he looked around, feeling desperation fill his mind. He had to get out of here.
He stumbled over to the bedroom window and yanked the curtains up, placing a hand over the smooth glass surface. He tried the lock first, pushing, tugging and even hitting it hard enough to draw blood from his fingers. When that didn't work, he pulled away, eyes wide with desperation as he looked around the room, trying to find a different solution.
It was hard to think, he was still trying to wrap his mind around the situation and he just felt… Empty. Trapped. He felt robbed, betrayed and there was nothing he could do about it.
With an angry yell, Dorian grabbed the chair that was by his dresser, tossing it towards the window. He didn't care if it was a long way down, he would crawl to safety if he had to or die trying!
When the chair bounced off the glass, he felt the last of the fight just drain out of him. Of course… Of course his father wouldn't forget something so simple as the window. As he approached the window in almost disbelief, he could sense the enchantments and he cursed himself for not noticing before.
Trapped. He was trapped; a prisoner in his own home.
Sinking down to his hands and knees, Dorian let out a sob, feeling the tears as they started pouring from his eyes. Then he screamed. It was raw, desperate, from the heart. He hugged his arms around himself and started rocking back and forward while on his knees as the vails tore themselves free from his throat, his cheeks wet with salty tears.
He cried and screamed until his head hurt and his throat felt raw before the reality finally sunk in. And with reality came all the thoughts that he had desperately tried to suppress by drowning himself in worldly pleasures.
He had lost.
He had finally gone too far and he had lost.
He had lost everything and now… now he had nothing left.
And it was all his own fault.