Dorian had honestly not had a plan when he had decided to run away, it had been an unexpected opportunity.

He'd gotten up at the dead of night to take a piss and while searching for the privy, he had realised just how quiet the Chantry had been. And how empty it had been. As soon as he had realised this, something in him had guided him to the grand doors leading to the outside and a careful push had shown that they were open. And more unexpectedly, there was nobody outside.

Before he had even gotten the chance to truly think about it, Dorian had run, not caring if anyone spotted him.

It had been a poor plan, he had not thought through it for one second as he dashed through the stone-gates. He had nothing with him save from the clothes he was wearing, which had happened to be his regular outfit because he had refused to strip down and sleep while sharing a room with the others. He also had a small coin-purse tied to his belt, but there was little money inside it. It had mostly been used for gambling with the other students in the tower and while he could probably get a meal or two, it would not get him much more.

He did have one thing going for him though, which was hanging from his neck from a thin, golden chain: the Pavus birthright.

In all honesty, Dorian had never really thought about it until he found himself on the streets of Minrathous with very little coin on him, but the boy was nothing if not crafty. He had seen others flash their birthrights when accompanying his mother and father into the city, and that seemed to be enough to get them whatever they wanted, at least as far as Dorian had observed.

He wasn't foolish, he knew that they would need to pay later, but having a birthright was as good as signing your name to a piece of parchment: you find what you want, you show them who you are and you pay later. It was easier in many ways as walking in the bigger cities with a fat coin-pouch was asking for trouble.

Dorian was no lord yet, because of his young age he was still referred to as "master" until he reached adult-hood, but his family was well-known and there was no mistaken the symbol that was hanging around his neck, hidden underneath his shirt. Surely he would be able to get a favour or two by flashing it at the right places.

Problem was, Dorian had no idea exactly where the right places were.

One thing he did know was that he was extremely out of place.

While he had seen Minrathous several times, he had always been accompanied with his mother and father and it had always been in the light of day, in the more respectable areas of the city.

Now he was alone, uncertain about where he was and he had no idea how late into the night it was.

He could hear music from the different taverns in the air; the sound of singing, laughter and various instruments.

Dorian wasn't sure how far away from the Chantry he was or even how long he had been walking, but he knew that nobody would miss him until the crack of dawn, when they would be rudely jerked from their beds to pray. It was late and Dorian's head was spinning with fatigue mixed with adrenaline and the only clear thought he had was finding a place to stay for the rest of the night.

His legs carried him over to one of the taverns he could hear music from and as his hand touched the door, he felt his heart beat even harder.

Inhaling deeply, Dorian tried to straighten himself up to look as tall and old as he could before finally pushing the door open.

He was almost expecting to be ambushed the second he went inside, but nobody even gave him a second look. The air was thick with the smell of wine, ale and herbal smoke. Scantily clothed women were busy serving drunken men and women beverages, and Dorian could immediately tell that this was a very different side of Tevinter that wasn't talked about.

Robed men and women were acting out, and while Dorian didn't know many Magisters by their face alone, he recognised the signet-ring they were carrying as hands waved around. He could feel the hairs on his arms and neck stand out as the familiar feel of magic washed over him, and he had to duck as a tankard of ale swooped past him and into the hand of a fat, well-robed man in a corner, fingers gleaming with magic and big, jewelled and golden rings.

Dorian couldn't help but grin.

This... This was something he could get behind.

Nobody was behaving here, no fancy dinners and polite talk. Here and now, people were raunchy and non-caring.

They were free from the bonds that tied them to their positions in life, trusting and knowing that if anyone ratted them out, then they in turn could point a finger at them and say "well, how would you know that unless you were right there with me?".

After taking another moment to take in his surroundings, Dorian wandered over to what he guessed was the innkeeper, giving him a nod. "Greetings," he said, figuring he could at least show he had manners. "I assume you are the owner of this... establishment?"

The innkeeper, a tall, rather fat man with a beard that would make even the most hairy dwarf weep with envy, gave Dorian a look-over, clearly not impressed with what he saw.

"You would assume correctly," he grunted out, placing his hands on the wooden surface of his counter. "And what brings a young man such as yourself here?"

"Room and board," Dorian replied, trying to keep his voice confident. "For a couple of days, I am not staying long."

The innkeeper just looked at Dorian, obviously sizing him up, which made Dorian feel even smaller on the inside. Thankfully, he was becoming a rather skilled liar when it came to the mask he was wearing on the outside and with an elegant movement, he fished his amulet up from underneath his robes and held it up.

"I am sure my father, Magister Pavus, would appreciate it if his son was kept safe. Or would you rather have a Magisters son stay outside, sleeping with the common people?"

The change was almost instant, the judging look replaced with something more humble. "Not at all, young master," the innkeeper said, his voice dripping with honey.

Dorian was sure that if the man could, he would lick his boots. He was almost tempted to stick them out and test his theory.

"Right this way, we should have a room that fits a young man of your stature just fine," the innkeeper continued, gesturing with his hand towards a set of stairs further inside the inn. "Would you like something to eat as well? Something to soothe your throat?"

"Yes to both, please," Dorian replied as he followed the man, grasping at the railing as he followed the innkeeper upstairs.

After a minute or so with more obvious grovelling, which was starting to get more tedious than it was amusing to Dorian, and a promise to have food and drinks delivered to his door in just a few minutes, Dorian was left to his own ministrations inside a very luxuriously decorated room. The bed was large and when he ran his hands over the cover, Dorian could feel the soft cotton threading. There was a bath as well as a basinet in a corner along with a large mirror. By the window was a table and two chair and when Dorian walked over to it to peer outside, he could see the darkened market-place outside.

In total, the room somewhat reminded him of his room back home, but a bit smaller.

As promised, the food and drinks were delivered, and as Dorian sat down to eat, he all but wolfed the food down with as much elegance as a drunken dwarf. The school, while generous with the amount of food, did not serve most tasteful food, and this was a meal fit for kings after spending three months eating that swill.

The food was soon gone and Dorian was nursing a glass with fine, red wine, feeling himself grow drowsy as the alcohol mixed with his exhaustion, creating a rather pleasant buzz in his mind.

He had no idea what would come next and at the moment, Dorian couldn't have cared next.

All he knew that right now, he was free.

Free to explore, to see things without being told what to look at and in what way.

And he was planning on making the most of it.

xoxoxo

Alcohol, Dorian discovered, was as bad as it was wonderful.

He had had alcohol before; wine, ciders, ale and the sort. He was a boy on his way to man-hood, the son of a Magister, upper-class: of course he had shared many a drink with other boys when the opportunity had been presented to him.

He had experienced intoxication, that pleasant tingle inside him from the different types of alcohol.

Wine created a pleasant buzz in his head, made him feel warm on the inside.

Ale made him feel equally warm and the sour taste as it went down his throat made him feel like a man.

Cider was a drink of comfort, a little treat if the weather was bad or if he was freezing.

This, however, was anything but tasty or cosy.

What he was drinking now made him feel extremely hot, extremely brave and extremely stupid. Everything was a brilliant idea, especially the offers of "more".

More was an extremely good idea.

Especially if others were buying.

He had been free from his last prison for four days and he had already woken up three times now, late in the afternoon, with a head-ache that threatened to split his head open, his body aching and his stomach threatening to reject everything he had eaten.

The first night he had started on this new adventure, he had actually woken up in a puddle of his own vomit, arms around a brass-bowl and with bloody knuckles. Exactly what he had done the night before was unknown to him, but aside from the obvious, he seemed to be in one piece and with nothing taken from his person.

So, naturally, he had not learned a thing from it and proceeded to do the exact same thing again the following nights.

Yes, he hurt the day after and wowing to never do it again as he dry-heaved over the brass-bowl, but in the moment, it was exactly what he needed.

The more he drank, he discovered, the less he felt. The alcohol dulled the ache and pain he couldn't do anything about on the inside, it made him relax and it made him feel good.

He also discovered that he was, for one reason or the other, extremely desirable. Men and women that were twice as old as him, if not more, were more than happy to provide him with drinks for just a moment of his time, something that Dorian was only too happy to provide.

He had his looks with him, he knew that, but Dorian had not expected that despite his efforts to make himself look more dangerous and unapproachable, people were still calling him the loveliest things.

Alcohol probably helped in loosening their tongues all the more, but Dorian did not care. It made him feel good and that was all that mattered to him at the time.

He was getting attention and for once, he did not need to act out in his usual ways to get it. He found, in fact, that he rather liked this attention because it was not something that had been the biggest focus for him in the past.

It had been a focus, certainly: he had learned quite early that one could say a lot by the way one dressed, but he had been more focused on his skills as a mage, rather than how he looked most of the time. At least until he turned old enough to care about how he wanted to look.

And while out here, Dorian discovered, looking and acting the part could get him exactly what he wanted without him needing to show the Pavus birthright or empty his coin-purse. With the flutter of his eyelashes and the right compliment, the older men and women were all but eating out of his hands and were more than happy to buy him drinks and food.

The fact that he was young didn't seem to matter to the people he encountered, and the more attention he got, the bolder he became.

It was obvious that some of the men and women tried to butter him up enough to get a proper evening with him, but Dorian never allowed them to go that far. Most kept their hands to themselves when Dorian removed it from his back, his leg or his arse, but a couple had gotten rougher with him.

Thankfully, as the son of a Magister, he had that leverage and he had no trouble using the Pavus name to his advantage when the men or women became more threatening. Just the mention of "I do not think my father, Halward Pavus, would like it when he hears about it" were enough to make people back away, making Dorian smirk in satisfaction.

He felt powerful. He felt almighty. He felt desired and absolutely wonderful.

Perhaps that as the reason why he decided to wander into an area that had a more ill reputation in search for thrills.

It certainly hadn't been planned, but encouraged by several tankards of ale and the blind bravery that only an immature boy on his way to manhood possessed, Dorian found himself in the first building that seemed like fun.

That bravery almost left him when he saw exactly where he had ended up, but the alcohol was still burning strong inside of him and that was all the encouragement he needed.

Besides, the sight of the handsome men were doing something to him that he had not quite expected.

Dorian was well aware that he had felt... Something, when he had kissed the Magister's boy some time ago, even if it had been a ruse by the other boy. He had also felt attraction to other boys while in the different Circles as he grew up, but he had never acted upon it because, as far as Dorian knew, it wasn't supposed to be like that. Boys were not supposed to feel attracted to other boys.

He had tried looking at girls his own age, had tried to look at his betrothed when his father and mother had forced him to spend an eve or day with her, but Dorian found that he appreciated her mind and wicked tongue more than he did her body. She was pretty, he supposed, but he found no desire what so ever for her.

Maybe it was because it was forced, he figured, and left it at that.

Here, however, he was able to look and even touch as much as he wanted.

"Are you lost, little boy?"

The sharp voice cut through the alcoholic haze like a knife and Dorian's eyes looked around until they landed on a older woman of human origin that was standing by the counter, arms crossed and eyes fixed on him.

She reminded him of one of his nannies: short, stocky build, arms easily as wide as Dorian's entire head, but the way she carried herself, despite the strict look on her face, left Dorian with an impression that you did not pull a fast one on this lady.

"Hardly," Dorian spoke, mentally wincing as his voice naturally chose that moment to break, making the word come out more as a squeak.

"I am here with a purpose, I assure you."

"And what purpose would that be?" the woman replied, the gaze turning more intense.

"Companionship, of course."

The words left Dorian's mouth before he could stop them, leaving him feel terrified and excited all at once. "Companionship and some good drinks."

"We can provide both here," the matron said, though her expression showed no hint of emotion or gave Dorian any inclination on what she was thinking.

Not that Dorian could really trust his own head right now, with the alcoholic fog still clouding his judgement.

"But you need to provide the coin for it."

Dorian licked over his lips before nodding. "I have the coin for it," he said, trying his best to sound confident. As it to prove it, he fished up a gold-coin from his purse, silently hoping that he would be able to pay for his own bravado. He wasn't sure if the Pavus birthright would do him much good here.

"So provide me."

The sight of gold was enough to make the matron turn her entire demeanour around, giving Dorian a rather pleased smile. "I think we have come to an agreement, young master," she downright purred before gesturing towards the brothel.

"Perhaps you would like to take some time in the sitting-room? Take a look at our lovely personnel while enjoying a drink?"

"I would very much like that."

The lady nodded before snapping her fingers. "Liandra. Please take this fine, young man to the sitting-room," she ordered as a scantily clothed woman came walking, gesturing towards Dorian with her hand.

"Please see to that he has everything he need. He is a first-timer at our establishment. We want to ensure that his stay is a good one."

"Of course, mistress," the woman replied before smiling sweetly at Dorian. "Come with me, young master," she murmured, bowing her head as she gestured for Dorian to come with her.

Dorian took a moment to look her over, taking in her appearance. While her clothes were revealing enough, he noted that she was dressed a little different from the more obvious prostitutes. The cleavage was there and the skirt was short, certainly, but the way she handled herself showed that she was a mere appetiser; someone to get the heat up before the clientele was handed off to someone else. It was obvious in the way she refrained from actually touching Dorian as she guided him to a more comfortable area of the brothel, but adding just enough sex-appeal in the way she swayed her hips when walking.

Not that it mattered to him as the swaying hips did nothing more than making him feel a little bit queasy, his brain not able to keep up with his eyes and feet at the same time.

"Tell me," she murmured as she made sure that Dorian was seated, giving him a warm, sensual smile that Dorian could not even start to appreciate. "What can I fetch a young man such as yourself?"

"Ale," Dorian managed to squeak out as his nerves started acting up, feeling his heart pound with the excitement of being at such an -bad- place. "The strongest you have."

"And do you see anyone you would like to... Converse with?" she asked.

Dorian took a look around, letting his eyes roam over the different people that were there as he tried to find someone he liked. Someone forbidden. Someone he wasn't supposed to have.

It took him a moment to decide before he pointed in the direction of his goal.

"Him. I want to converse with him."