Chapter 6: The Moon
Every day for the remainder of the holidays, Dorian swore he would not go back to Alexius, and yet somehow he ended up there. Then, every day for two years he debated running, and each morning he woke up in his bright rooms in the Alexius household in Minrathous; each day he talked time magic, necromancy, and spirits of the Fade with his mentor. He walked the twisting recesses of the Fade with Alexius, sometimes with Felix, and always with fear.
When he'd turned eighteen, his father had allowed him a respite from the marriage arrangement, "for time to study," Halward had said in public, to the disappointment of many Altus families with eligible daughters. Privately he'd said, "Get your mind right, Dorian. You will not continue to defy me." The problem was his head was on right; and in Dorian's mind, it was the rest of Tevinter that was wrong.
One day shortly after his twentieth name day a courier in House Pavus livery arrived, bearing a sealed scroll for Dorian. "What is it?" Felix asked, sidling up beside Dorian and resting a hand on his shoulder.
"It can't be anything good." Dorian broke the seal and unrolled the scroll. "Venhedis," he swore. "Fasta vass!" He threw the scroll across the room; it bounced off a window seat and landed on the floor in a twisted heap.
"Dorian, please!" Felix said, grabbing him by the shoulders and refusing to let go even when Dorian tried to pull away. He pulled Dorian into a hug and Dorian felt the iron band around his ribs, the choking lump in his throat, the heat in his cheeks and behind his eyes… and then he was shuddering in Felix's embrace while his friend rubbed his back and whispered calming nonsense to him in Tevene. "Are you ready to tell me?" Felix asked, holding Dorian at arms' length.
Dorian blinked away his tears of anger and desperation. "Aurelia Velarias," he said. "My father's gone and done it and arranged for me to marry Aurelia Velarias."
"I'm so sorry," Felix said, gathering Dorian into a hug again. Dorian was grateful, even if he was a bit afraid Alexius would walk in at any moment. He'd never told Felix about his preferences, and yet Felix just knew and never said anything about it. To Felix, he was just Dorian. "What will you do?"
Dorian sighed. "What I have to do," he said. "Meet her family, put on a smile, agree to the bargain." He forced a smile. "We do our duty or we die."
"Na via lerno victoria," Felix said sadly. "Almost makes me glad I'm dying."
Dorian wished he could tell Felix exactly what he was planning, what he had been planning for the last two years. Hiding a secret like this from his best friend was even harder than hiding his preference for men from his father and the whole of Tevinter society. But he would not put Felix in any more of an awkward position. He'd been expecting the arrangement to be official long before now, but seeing it in writing made it a grim reality.
He waited until it was long past midnight, assuring Felix that he would sleep well and worry about things in the morning, and something about Dorian's smile must have convinced Felix. Lying was hard, but knowingly dragging Felix into this would be even harder.
Silencing wards guarded his steps as he stole from the house and into the quiet streets of Minrathous. He walked quickly but proudly; cowed individuals made for easy targets. He kept walking and it seemed the city would never end, but soon he came to the southern gate of Minrathous and slipped the guards some gold to be let out. He left the sizzling streetlamps behind, allowing his eyes to adjust to the moonlight on the road. He walked for hours and realized how ill-conceived this plan was, and just how out of shape he was. He'd never needed to walk like this before.
He didn't want to think what would happen when he needed to truly run.
It only took a day for the novelty of his flight to wear off. As the days went by Dorian kept a low profile, spending long, nervous nights in cheap rooms in roadside inns; walking long miles each day with only his thoughts to entertain him; and with his stomach growling incessantly. In short, the opposite of everything he'd ever known in his life. He kept moving ever south, heading for Orlais. He'd never left Tevinter before; there had never been any need to. Right now he just needed to cross the border. Then he'd figure out what to do next.
He paid a passing farmer for a ride south in his wagon, doing his best to quell his magic. The man was clearly soporati, mundane; but it wouldn't do for him to remember giving a lift to a mage. Dorian said little, knowing full well that his speech would instantly give him away as an Altus, as well.
It took a week to get to Asariel, halfway between Minrathous and Vyrantium, and Dorian ached to go back to the Circle where his life had been so much simpler. But they would look for him there, so he kept walking.
When he reached the Orlesian border nearly ten days since leaving, Dorian was disappointed at how unimpressive it was: a few tired guards in Orelsian heraldry, an ornate but useless fort, and a few garishly painted statues on either side of the road. Still, it meant freedom for him. For the most part, that was. Orlais was southern territory, and that meant templars. He'd heard that most Tevinters enjoyed safety by virtue of their Imperium birthrights, but still he needed to be careful.
The first thing Dorian did when he'd set up in a small inn in a tiny village just over the border was take a bath. He didn't realize how much he ached, how badly he smelled, how exhausted he felt. But it felt good, too. It felt like he'd finally done something for himself rather than waiting for things to be decided for him. He slept well that night, the best he had in quite some time. He even managed to stay out of the Fade, and woke feeling far more refreshed.
There was no hurry now. No agenda, no studies, no parties or games of chess that were so much more than just games. It was just Dorian in his tiny room, not far from the Imperium, but still just far enough.
"The girls here keep looking at you," the pretty little barmaid said to him two days later. "You're not looking back. They're absolutely beside themselves," she said, leaning on the bar, displaying a fair amount of milky cleavage. She didn't wear a mask, and her accent wasn't quite Orlesian. Possibly some soporati Tevinter, or maybe a little Nevarran?
Dorian glanced around. The inn, he'd learned quickly, doubled as the local brothel for soldiers on guard at the border crossing. Several young women, and a few older ones as well, stood around the room. The inn seemed to be a good stopping-off place between Orlais and Tevinter, which made him nervous, but he wasn't under Imperium law now. And he'd heard that certain things in Orlais were less frowned upon than they were at home.
"They are lovely ladies," he said. "Any one of them is a gem. Though not to my… personal liking," he said, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.
She glanced down at her ample bosom on display. "I see," she said with a smile. "Luckily I can take care of that as well. Human or elf? Half? Does it matter?" she asked. "Young or old?"
"Truly, I've never had so many options before," he said with a grin, playing it smooth even though it was true.
"If you have coin, I'll show you," she said with a grin, but making it clear that he was going to have to pay if he even wanted a look.
Dorian dug into his purse and dropped a few Imperial sovereigns in front of her. "I have coin, my dear," he said. "And I would be most grateful if you'd show me who you have."
As it turned out three Imperial sovereigns got him a handsome and flexible elf named Cacelma, who gave Dorian a night he couldn't have even hoped for in Minrathous, and would probably give Ophelia plenty to torment him with later on. He didn't care. It had been so long since Dorian had felt like himself. "Thank you," he said softly after they were finished.
"You paid me," Cacelma said, lying naked beside him. His blue eyes surveyed Dorian. "You ever go this far before?"
Dorian shook his head. "It was that obvious?" he asked with an embarrassed smile.
"I get lots of first timers," the elf said with a shrug. "Can I do anything else for you?"
"If I say yes every time you ask me that, I may well be out of coin within a day or so," Dorian teased. He rolled over and stole one last kiss, then watched the elf dress himself and walk out of the room, hips swaying slightly. Dorian sighed and sprawled in the tangled sheets. They were rougher than anything he'd ever slept on and yet he was more comfortable and relaxed than in any bed in Minrathous.
Dorian began spending more time down in the bar, talking with Imogen, who as it turned out was from Nevarra and had quite a few good stories to tell, and who even uncorked a bottle of Tevinter red for him one night. "You're not like most Vints," she said, watching him sip. "And don't try to tell me you're not a Vint. You couldn't be more of a Vint," she said with a giggle. "No Orlesian would drink that wine that slowly."
"Orlesians' ideas of taste are a pale imitation of Tevinter's," Dorian said with a smile. "So it was the wine that gave me away? Not my stunning northern looks or ridiculously self-important arrogance?" His grin spread and he held out his wine glass for more.
"All of the above," Imogen said. "Do you do magic, too?"
"I'm Tevinter, my dear," Dorian said with a shrug. He conjured up a trio of small wisps and juggled them. Imogen giggled; he waved them away to circle around her head. "We're full of tricks," he said.
"I know. Cacelma told me," she said with a wink that made Dorian's focus falter, which was embarrassing; he'd been able to conjure and control wisps without even thinking since he was a small child. "And don't look now, but I think you're catching the eye of the new guy." She jutted her chin in the direction of a table to Dorian's left. He glimpsed a man his age, possibly a bit older, with pale southerner skin and a mop of wavy golden hair. "He's looking at you. He seems quite interested," she said, smiling and biting on her lip in excitement.
Dorian looked down at the scuffed bar counter. "Send over a glass of the Tevinter red," he said at last without looking up. His pulse pounded in his ears, but after his tryst with Cacelma, and half a bottle of red wine, he was feeling bold. Imogen nodded and poured a glass, then walked it over to the man. Dorian tried to watch them without really watching, something that seemed to happen a lot in dirty Nevarran romance novels, but was harder in reality.
Imogen was over for a long time, and when she returned she handed Dorian a small scrap of parchment. He unrolled it. "Laertes. Meet me for a drink," he read, and looked up at the man in the corner. He was smiling. Dorian returned the grin, glanced at Imogen, then headed over.
"Laertes?" Dorian asked. "Is that Nevarran?" he asked, taking a seat at the table and folding his hands in his lap to keep them from shaking.
"It's whatever you'd like it to be," Laertes said. His curly blond hair flopped over his forehead. He wore a loose white chemise, open slightly at the neck, and fitted breeches with dirty riding boots. "Just passing through?"
Dorian shrugged. "Unless I find a reason to stay."
Laertes gave him a lopsided grin. "You're a Vint. What are you doing so far from home?" he asked.
"Finding fame, fortune, and adventure," Dorian said. "Though I've had little luck with the first two. As for the adventure, walking is quite adventurous to us Vints. Especially anything further than the next room over. Walking down the street is practically scandalous," he added, and Laertes laughed.
"I saw you doing that wisp thing to the barmaid," he said. "Aren't you afraid of being a mage in Orlais? That someone might see you?"
Dorian shrugged. "I'm Tevinter. They won't do anything," he said. "We're not bound by the same rules as these southern mages."
Laertes nodded thoughtfully. "True."
Dorian sighed. "Can we pretend, at least for the time being, that I'm not Tevinter, and just enjoy one another's company? Can you play chess?" he asked. It felt nice to talk with someone again, someone more… his sort. He didn't realize just how much he missed having Felix around, and felt a pang of regret when he thought of what Felix was doing at this moment. Or if he was even still alive.
Dorian brushed the thought aside. Felix would be the first to tell him to think about himself. So he did.
Laertes did play chess, as it turned out, and he was a good opponent. Dorian enjoyed the game far more than he ever had before, because it wasn't a visual metaphor for everything happening around him in the Imperium. It was just a game, and Laertes actually beat him once. Between games Laertes got the drinks, insisting that it was his treat. By the end, they were both laughing, and Dorian was more than a bit drunk. He stood and swayed a little bit, instinctively grabbing Laertes's shoulder for balance. "I'm sorry," he said, pulling his hand away, but Laertes had grabbed hold.
"Don't be," he said with a half smile that made Dorian slightly giddy. His hand was warm on Dorian's, and he squeezed it. "If you're not busy later this evening, feel free to come to my rooms," he said in a low voice. He trailed on hand down Dorian's chest and grinned even more widely when he glanced down and saw Dorian standing to, pressing against his breeches. "Even if you are busy, you should probably come to see me," he said, and turned to leave.
Laertes's attentions made Dorian delirious. Cacelma had been wonderful, but he was a whore, paid for this sort of thing. Lepidus was gone, Felix was off limits, and Dorian wasn't sure where either them stood with regards to this anyway. But Laertes? A dashing stranger, offering Dorian a night with him?
Dorian headed to the bar without stumbling, a trick he'd picked up after many a ball, dinner, or house party back home, and one he was quite proud of. "Thank you," he said to Imogen, leaving her another Imperial sovereign on the counter.
She looked at him, almost sadly. "Don't thank me yet, Vinty," she said, but she took the money anyway.
Author's Note: A sincere thank you to those who've read and reviewed! I appreciate the interest and support for this story. I am fascinated by Tevinter culture and by Dorian's reactions to being trapped in this society.