Chapter 5: Four of Pentacles

Felix was resting in his bed, propped up on bolsters and pillows and looking pale. He waved when he saw Dorian in the doorway. "See? My illness is good for something," he said.

Dorian entered and sat on the bench by his friend's side. "Don't joke like that," he said. "I'd have managed."

"You're barely holding on as it is," Felix said, fixing his glassy eyes on Dorian. "I didn't tell you what last night was because you'd have tried to be too confident."

"It was a dinner party with sacrificial rituals for dessert," Dorian said in a measured voice.

"Urathus and Eremond are part of a subset of Tevinter mage culture called the Venatori," Felix said after looking to be sure no one was around. Dorian understood and went to close the door, and sealed it with privacy and silencing wards. They wouldn't do much in a house full of mages, but it would give them warning that it was not longer safe to converse. "They're supremacists who believe that it's their purpose to rule over all as gods."

"Oh. So a stereotypical Tevinter mage," Dorian said jokingly, even as his stomach turned. "That doesn't sound so different from most any other Altus or Magister."

Felix sighed and furrowed his brow as another spasm of pain wracked him. "So far. But there are whispers. My father talks about what he could do if he had enough power. They all do, really. And yes," he said when Dorian took a deep breath to make another comment, "like any other mage in the Imperium. But I think this could be more."

"So you father is mentoring me because he wants me to join his little cult," Dorian said. "And here I thought he was just attracted to my phenomenal talents and dashing looks."

Felix did smile at that. "Don't flatter yourself too much, Dorian," he joked. "But in all seriousness. He does find your talent fascinating, and you're on the rise in the Imperium. If he were the one to bring you into the Venatori fold? You know how we mages like our trophies."

Dorian nodded. "Only too well. Are you one of them?" he asked. "A Venatori."

"Of course. Honestly, I was surprised your family isn't."

"Me too, now that you mention it," Dorian said. "Supremacy is sort of my father's thing. But so is isolation, come to think of it. He labors under the idea that he's so much better than everyone else, that he doesn't deign to join anyone or anything."

"You know your father well," Felix said. "That's what everyone says about him." They both laughed. Felix reached out and touched Dorian's arm with a pale hand. "You are closer to me than a brother, Dorian," he said. "And I'd be honored to call you a Venatori brother as well. But you need to make your own choices for yourself, and not for what anyone else wants for you."

"Felix… are you dying?" Dorian asked, concerned.

Felix chuckled. "Of course. We all are; some of us sooner and more quickly than others. Why do you ask?"

"Because in every dirty Nevarran romance novel I've ever read, a dying person is suddenly full of sappy as shit philosophy about life." Dorian smiled and dodged Felix's weak slap.

"Vishante kaffas, Dorian," Felix said, but he was smiling. "Get out. And don't come back unless you've found a copy of a dirty Nevarran romance to read to me."

"Tell me about time." Alexius sat across the table from Dorian, leaning back in his chair.

Dorian surveyed the game board. His pieces were in good position, and Alexius looked like he had a poor defense, but one wrong move and Dorian would lose a significant piece. He moved a pawn in the way of Alexius's chancellor, sacrificing it as easily as Alexius sacrificed slaves. He wished there was less at stake with this sacrifice, but unfortunately that was never the case. "We move through it," he said. "We move across it."

"And how is time presented in the books?" Alexius asked, his hand hovering over his pieces.

"As a line," Dorian said. "From point A to point B."

"And that is where they're wrong," Alexius said, making his move. Dorian saw that Alexius thought he'd be safe, but in two moves Dorian could corner a key piece, so he kept his expression respectfully interested. Actually, he was. Felix was recovering from his last bout of illness, and Alexius had calmed enough to return to his research and was just now starting to share his ideas with Dorian. "Look." He took a cloth napkin from a stack at the end of the table, and dipped a quill in the ink. "Here are two points on a line." He marked them. "Now, if I did this on wood or metal, they would be fixed, like the timeline the scholars speak of."

Dorian pulled the napkin closer. The points were fixed on the fabric. But the fabric moved. He made a fold in it, then another, each fold bringing the points closer together. "Fabric can be manipulated," he said and made the first move to trap Alexius.

"Yes." Alexius was excited now, to the point he made a hasty move that left himself exposed on two sides. "Point A is no longer one end of the line, and the line is not a line. Point B is not another end. They are moments that exist. If you can manipulate the fabric, you manipulate the points."

And manipulate time, Dorian thought. He saw Alexius's excitement, how earnest he was in his belief, and realized that just maybe he'd already started work on these things. A mage who could manipulate time could be all-powerful. And terrifying: absolutely terrifying. There would be no objective reality; it would be like the Fade, where things were constantly shifting in time and space. Anyone who could manipulate time could manipulate people and could manipulate the very fabric of reality into getting what they wanted, when they wanted it.

Dorian swallowed and made a move that would not trap Alexius, and would possibly cost him the game. "That would be useful," he said. It was an understatement bigger than the Grand Proving Grounds in Minrathous.

Of course Alexius won the game; but Dorian figured that when he had that manic, almost desperate look on his face, it was better to let him win than find out what happened if he lost.

Dorian never thought he'd be glad to go home, but when the high holidays drew near he began to long to return to Qarinus. He would have preferred Vyrantium, but that wasn't an option yet. He still felt leashed to his position of privilege, and was still a month away from coming of age. That was another issue. Halward and Desdemona were certain to throw a grand ball in his honor, and the very last thing he wanted was to be the center of attention in a society he was starting to despise.

"You're certain you won't stay with us for the holidays?" Alexius asked. "Our family is small, but we have a wonderful celebration."

Full of sacrifices and blood; some celebration, Dorian thought, but his smile was bright. "Thank you for the invitation; but my parents have been writing nonstop, and I fear that if I don't go home of my own volition, my mother will show up and drag me home by my ear." At least that wasn't a lie.

Felix was up and walking around again a few days later, and he sat out in the gardens while Dorian waited for a coach from his parents. "I wish you were staying," Felix said. He handed Dorian an orange from the trees in the gardens. "My father's been happier since you've been here."

"He's teaching me some very advanced subject matter; I'm grateful for the opportunity," Dorian said.

"Just for the opportunity to study?" Felix asked. He looked a bit sad. "You're like my brother, Dorian. You know how rare that is amongst our kind."

"I do." Dorian sighed and ran a hand through his wavy hair. "I'm glad I'm a credit to your father, and I'm glad you think so highly of me," he said. "You've become quite dear to me as well," he said, turning his eyes away from Felix and fiddling with the orange in his hands. "It's lonely growing up in Tevinter, isn't it," he said with a sigh.

"Because our parents are too busy being all mighty Magisters to remember to reproduce more than once," Felix joked. "Dorian, please, smile. You used to smile." He scooted closer to Dorian. "It will be Satinalia; and if there's any time worth smiling, it's then."

Felix was so earnest and there was concern in his voice and Dorian couldn't help but smile even though he felt tired and conflicted. "Fine. But only because you requested so nicely," he told Felix. "What would you do if I didn't come back?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"You mean stayed in Qarinus? Or went back to Vyrantium?" Dorian nodded. "I'd be disappointed, of course," Felix said. He rested a hand on Dorian's thigh and Dorian tensed. "I've grown used to having you around. But you need to help yourself, too, and I would understand."

Dorian hesitated before resting his hand on Felix's. He couldn't look at him, for fear of what he'd see. But Felix turned his hand over under Dorian's, and clasped it. "Thank you, Felix," Dorian said, finally glancing at Felix. "I'll let you know what I decide. Please don't tell your father that we've spoken of this?" he asked.

"Of course," Felix said. They stared at one another for along moment, quiet but for the trilling birds in the gardens. "Take care, Dorian," Felix said at last, getting up to leave Dorian alone to wait for his coach.

Left alone, Dorian rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands. He'd just thought about potentially leaving when Felix had sat down with him. But his father would never hear of it, and Alexius was powerful enough even without his powerful friends. There had to be a way out, something Dorian wasn't seeing. He tried to picture his life like a chess board; but his opponent was the whole of the Tevinter Imperium. How could he hope to win against that?

He'd hoped to sleep on the long ride between Minrathous and Qarinus, but his thoughts kept him awake. He stared at the folds in his robes and wondered what Alexius would hope to use time manipulation magic for. And then he spied the orange on the seat next to him and he felt a twinge in his chest. Of course, Felix. But if he went back in time to prevent the attack that had left Felix ill, what would that mean for others with whom Alexius had interacted? What would it mean for Dorian?

It all made his head throb.

He didn't think he would be as happy to see home as he was. The Pavus estate sprawled over the countryside, encompassing a grove of citrus trees, a stable filled with horses with bloodlines as old as Dorian's, and a view to the harbor. His chest swelled and he almost felt giddy. When the carriage pulled up, the slaves formed two lines, and Halward and Desdemona Pavus walked through the lines to meet Dorian.

Dorian wanted to leap out of the carriage and throw himself at his mother, but he was seventeen, too old and too well-bred for such behavior. So he stiffly climbed out of the carriage, adjusted his robes, and bowed deeply. "Dorian," his mother said, approaching him and taking him by the shoulders. She held him at arms' length; he was quite a bit taller now than she was, and she looked up to meet his gray eyes. "You've grown, my son. You seemed like such a little boy when you left for Vyrantium, and now I hardly recognize you."

"You mean I'm not still a little boy?" Dorian asked her. "May I have a scribe copy that down, so I can use it against you the next time you insist on treating me like one?" But he was smiling, and finally broke ceremony to give her a hug. Then he looked up and saw his father standing a couple feet away. "Father. I'm pleased to be home," he said.

Halward surveyed Dorian until he felt like a child once again, even after what his mother had said. But at last his father nodded in greeting and offered his hand. Dorian took it and they clasped hands for a brief moment before heading inside.

His mother had redone the house yet again, though Dorian hardly remembered what it had looked like from before he'd left home. His rooms were in the same location, but they'd been redone as well; they may as well have been guest suites, though Desdemona insisted that Dorian would grow to love what she'd done. "Why bother?" he asked. "You'll just change it again when I leave."

"You're too cynical, my son," she said. "We'll have the slaves bring your things in, and then there's an appointment with the tailor. For your coming of age robes," she said in response to Dorian's blank look. "The invitations went out last week and replies are pouring in."

Dorian ignored the way his chest tightened up, ignored the tingling in his legs that made him want to run away. "It will be an event to remember," he said with a bright smile that made his mother beam.

He found his father in the library, surrounded by books and scrolls, likely studying a piece of legislation that had come up in the last Magisterium session. "Dorian," he said. "Come in. Tell me about your time with Alexius. What's he been studying?" Halward asked, setting aside his quill.

"I didn't want to bother you while you were working," Dorian said.

"No worries. This can wait. What has he taught you?"

Dorian didn't know where to begin. And he didn't know if he even trusted his father enough to tell him. Everything Alexius was researching was perfectly legal under the Magisterium's rules, and yet it chafed at Dorian's sensibilities like rough spun southern cloth might chafe his skin. "He's looking at time manipulation," he finally said when he could think of no other half-truth, and his father's expectant stare made his skin crawl.

Halward laughed. "He would be. Of course… what Magister wouldn't? The idea of controlling time? Can you imagine going back with the knowledge you have, and changing the course of history?"

"All in the Imperium's favor, I'd assume?" Dorian asked.

"We'd be the most powerful nation in Thedas," his father pointed out.

"Father. We still are," Dorian said with a grin. It felt good to have these sorts of conversations, where there were no expectations, no trying to impress; just a father and son, joking around.

Talk turned to Dorian's impressions of the Magisterium so far, and how he found Minrathous. "I also hear you met Urathus's daughters," Halward said casually. "Lady Titania showed quite an interest in you."

"She was a lovely and well-bred young lady," Dorian said, careful not to wince visibly. He knew the topic was bound to come up sooner rather than later. "She is a credit to the Urathus house," he added. "Father. What else do you want me to say?" Dorian asked, when Halward kept staring him down. "We had dinner. We ate grapes. We lounged around and… talked about the Fade and demons," he said, the memory of that night still uncomfortably vivid in his mind.

"Did you think to arrange for another time to see her?"

"No! I… I've been so overwhelmed with the new things I'm learning from Alexius, and from learning my way around Minrathous. It's been a lot to take in," he said. He felt his cheeks flaming under his father's scrutiny.

Halward stared at him for a very long, uncomfortable time. Dorian felt paralyzed, and as if everything about him was being laid bare before his father. He tried to keep his mind clear and his face blank. As far as he knew his father had always eschewed blood magic, despite the powers it granted him. But for all Dorian knew right now, Halward had sacrificed a slave in hopes of reading his son's mind. Nothing would surprise him after what he'd seen lately.

"I'm glad the apprenticeship with Alexius is working out well," he finally said. "It's exposing you to areas of society you'd probably avoid otherwise."

Like women? Dorian thought, but said nothing. It wouldn't end well, and contrary to popular opinion, he did know when to keep his mouth shut.

Luckily his family was too busy with the holiday preparations to focus too much on him, and he spent much time sneaking out to the orchards to avoid his parents and their slaves. He'd so looked forward to being way from Alexius's careful watch, but now he felt like a stranger in his own home and didn't belong here, either.

The morning of Satinalia dawned cloudy, but the bright northern sun slowly broke through the cloud cover as the day wore on. The slaves had decorated the estate with bright, festive colors, so different from the usual somber shades most Tevinters chose. Today each of the slaves wore garish masks, a mockery of those worn by Orlesian nobles, and brightly colored clothing. They were far more props than people, though, and while he'd usually enjoyed Satinalia as a child, Dorian wasn't sure what to make of it now. After seeing how easily Alexius had killed Charmion, just to bind a Desire Demon for a little fun, Dorian couldn't help but question the place of slaves in his homeland.

As was the custom, today the King of Fools would be chosen, and the parties would rotate from noble house to noble house throughout the week. Tonight would be the party at Maevaris Tilani's; the Pavus party would be later in the week, and would run into Dorian's name day and coming of age celebration later in the month of Umbralis.

"It's customary for a Tevinter man of your breeding and reputation to at least be in an arrangement by eighteen," his mother said one morning in the middle of the week, as he stood stiff and straight for the Antivan tailor who had been brought in.

Dorian sighed and winced when the man pricked him yet again with a pin. If he didn't know better, he'd have sworn he was a blood mage. "Really?" he asked. "I wasn't aware of our customs in the slightest. Thank you for bringing that to my attention."

"Dorian, darling, must you be so disagreeable?" his mother asked. "You are the envy of the Magisterium, but the way you neglect your duty to your family… it raises questions," she said, averting her eyes.

He snorted. "What sorts of questions?" he asked. He'd heard the whispers too; it was impossible to be deaf to them while living with a Magister in Minrathous. But his mother remained quiet, instead watching the tailor measure and pin, drape and pin some more. "And you wonder why I don't write," he said, instead looking at himself in the mirror. No, he didn't hate what he saw, not yet.

"I didn't love your father," she said at long last. "But I loved my family, and I was willing to do my duty to them. Sometimes I still don't think I love Halward, but I do love you, and love my duty to you as your mother."

It wasn't surprising to hear her confess that she didn't love Dorian's father. He'd be surprised if many couples in the Altus echelon did love one another. "We don't ask you to marry for love, Dorian; at least, not for the love of your bride. But for the love of your family and the Pavus legacy."

"Maybe there's more to life than the legacy," he ventured. It was a stupid thing to say, stuck with pins as he was, and his mother staring at him in stony horror.

"Has living with Alexius taught you nothing?" she asked, her voice breaking and her eyes filling with tears. "His son is dying, Dorian. His wife is dead. Felix was like you, planned to perfection, the glory of the Alexius house, and now Magister Gereon has nothing to look forward to. His line will die with Felix. Would you do that to your father? To me?" Tears rolled down her cheeks, and as much as Dorian wanted to say yes! He couldn't bear it.

He sighed. "I apologize, mother," he muttered. He sighed and straightened up, to the relief of the irritated tailor. Desdemona Pavus gave her son a long, sorrowful look before leaving. Dorian closed his eyes. He couldn't look at himself right now. He'd not agreed to his mother's unspoken request, but he'd not denied it, either. It kept the peace in the family, but it made him feel dirty.

Every party that week he danced with any willing young woman—and there were plenty. He put on such a show that his father was bound to be pleased, and maybe leave him alone. Dorian knew each dance perfectly; he'd always been light and graceful, and dancing was little different from spellcasting, when you got down to it. And he did cast a spell, enough that when they returned home each night his father was actually smiling. It's a test, like everything else in Tevinter, he thought when he tried to fall asleep each night. I just have to pass this next test. Then the one after that. I can do this.

However, his desire to fit in drew the attentions of the Fade denizens, and when he slept and wandered in that wavering wasteland, he felt the demonic influences on the edges of his subconscious.

"So what do you want, Dorian?" Ophelia asked one night. "Do you want to fit in? Or do you want your true desire?" She morphed, face, body, voice and all into the shape of Lepidus. Even though Dorian hadn't seen the slave in months, he still melted at the sight of him and had to hold tightly to his grip on reality. Ophelia had even gotten down the wide, liquid dark eyes, staring at Dorian. No, more-into him.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. All around him he felt the Fade spirits about which he'd spent time learning and understanding, and their presence gave him comfort. "What I really want is for you to leave me alone. Good night, Ophelia."

"You're never any fun, Dorian," the demon pouted, morphing into her true form, which held no interest for him. "Maybe you'd like my brother more?" she teased.

"Leave me be," he said with willpower he didn't know he possessed. He pulled himself up and out of the Fade, and after a moment he was staring at the moonlight filtering through the sheers on the windows. He had to go somewhere, anywhere other than here or Minrathous. He feared above all else that some night he was going to be so desperate that he would give in to Ophelia's cunning demands. He would become worse than a blood mage: he'd become an abomination. Whether it was Felix or Lepidus, or any other young man; or whether it was the prospect of fitting neatly into Tevinter society, no temptation was worth becoming that.

Author's Note: As always, thank you so much to all for reading and reviewing! A special shout-out to Karebear, for the RP sessions that are helping me get more acquainted with Dorian's history, thought process, and views, as well as with discovering Tevinter (as I see it). The next chapter is one I'm very excited to write...