Chapter 8: The Devil
Living a lie festered within him like a poison, but every time Dorian wanted to say something, anything, about it, he remembered his father's threats about an "absolute last resort". Normally Dorian would have thought Halward was bluffing; but if having his son kidnapped and dragged home wasn't a last resort, Dorian didn't know what was. He hated living in fear, and he hated having to look at himself in the many mirrors that adorned the Alexius house.
For nearly a year he'd sulked in these halls under the watchful gaze of Gereon Alexius and his Venatori friends, who seemed to be spending more time gathering together. He always found reasons to be busy during their dinner parties. He had to study; he had spell sequences to practice; he had a date with some Magister's daughter. Alexius always raised an eyebrow, and Felix searched Dorian with a troubled gaze, but he was allowed to go.
There was dancing, there was drinking, there were dinners at Minrathous bistros with candles and flowers and dazzling smiles. He walked the ladies to the gates of their mansions; gave a kiss on the cheek, a deep bow, and no promise of another night out. When he returned to Alexius's house he would draw a steaming bath with frankincense oil in it and soak for hours as if he could wash away what he'd become for the night.
Dorian tried to view it as a necessary evil. It got him out of the house whenever the Venatori met with their hushed whispers and furtive glares; and it made the Pavus guards more relaxed. At first they'd been so observant Dorian could hardly relieve himself without someone standing in the doorway. The more he attended to the young ladies of Minrathous, the more lax his father's guards became.
"You can't escape tonight," Felix said, standing in the doorway as Dorian waxed the ends of his mustache and smoothed his eyebrows in place. Felix leaned against the doorframe, looking quite casual, but his cheeks seemed a bit hollow and his skin lacked the usual glow from the northern sun. "Urathus. Eremond. Julex. Devrenix. And more," he said. "They'll all be here."
"Those names mean nothing to me." Dorian closed his eyes so he would not have to look at Felix and feel the stabbing pain in his chest. He hadn't said more than a few words at a time to Felix since returning to Minrathous; he still felt too guilty for running away, and the circumstances of his return was something he wanted to bury deep in the past.
"Some of the highest ranking Venatori," Felix said, entering and sitting on the edge of Dorian's bed. "Something big happened. There were Grey Wardens at the Circle today." Dorian stared at him for an explanation. "Wardens usually avoid Tevinter. You know, because we started the whole thing," Felix said with a grin. While the rest of Thedas pointed blame at Tevinter, Tevinters thought it was a big joke; if not us, then someone else, Dorian's father had once said.
"Why do I have to be there?" Dorian asked. "I'm scheduled to meet with Lavinia Naxos this evening."
Felix shook his head. "Why do you keep doing this to yourself, Dorian?"
"I was a discredit to the Pavus household," Dorian said, reciting lines that had been forced into his head by his father before he'd come back here. "I'm not a carefree boy any longer, and must behave in a manner befitting a future Magister." The words were hollow and broken and his voice sounded wrong.
"Vishante kaffas. You don't believe a word of what you're saying," Felix said. He sighed and rubbed his head. "You can't hide things from me forever, Dorian."
"I can try."
"I probably know you better than anyone, your own parents included," Felix challenged.
"You probably do," Dorian admitted. He pulled a bench over and sat down, facing Felix. "I… I'm not sure you'd understand, so I don't know where to begin."
Felix shrugged. "You like men." Dorian stared at him, cheeks flaming. Felix took in Dorian's furious blush and clenched jaw. "And you father had drawn up the arrangement with Aurelia. Is that why you ran?" Dorian nodded. "Maker. I thought it had to do with the Ventatori."
Dorian shook his head, unable to find words. Felix held out his hand and Dorian crossed the room and sat next to his friend. When Felix put his arm around him and encouraged Dorian to rest his head on his shoulder, he realized how painfully much he'd missed Felix. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't want to drag you into my mess. And it did become quite a mess." His voice was halting and broke here and there, but he told Felix the story of his flight and subsequent capture, and by the end Felix's eyes were wide and his nostrils were flared.
"Your father did that to you?" he asked in a low voice. "If he were here right now I would hit him," he said, clenching his hand into a tight fist. He wrapped Dorian in a hug. His arms felt bony, but his embrace was sure. "I'm so sorry, Dor. I wish you'd told me."
Dorian's laugh sounded more like the croak of a raven. "It wasn't my brightest shining moment," he said, cursing as he wiped tears from his eyes. It had been a year; surely it couldn't still feel so raw and painful? "And sometimes I still have those feelings in the Fade. The helplessness. The fear."
Felix squeezed his shoulder with one hand and grasped Dorian's hand with the other. "If the rumors are true," he began, his voice trembling with some excitement, "we may never have to fear again."
A life without fear. Dorian had thought that, growing up in a wealthy Altus family, he'd never have to be afraid of anything or anyone; but as he'd grown it seemed that all he did was fear, even more now that he knew what his father was capable of. A life without fear was a huge temptation, and the way Felix looked at him, Felix knew it too.
"It's time to stop being afraid, Dorian," Felix said, and leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Please?"
Dorian took a deep breath. "Only because you asked so nicely," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. His heart fluttered and his stomach knotted up. Felix nodded once and left, and Dorian cleaned himself up again. He was about to descend into a nest of vipers. He could show no weakness.
"Dorian! What a pleasant surprise!" Alexius said, his face lighting up as Dorian entered the sitting room. Bottles of wine had already been opened and aerated, and servants stood around bearing platters of fruits, cheeses, and cured meats. Yellow-orange globes glowed with a soft light. "I was beginning to think you didn't care for our company," Alexius said with his smile pasted on, but his eyes were chilly.
"I'm progressing at an exponential rate—magically as well as socially," Dorian said with a wink, pouring his own wine. The action drew the attention of the many high-born Magisters and Altuses in the room, but Dorian didn't care; the last time he'd taken a drink from another person, it had been magebane. He didn't have much reason to trust the Venatori, besides. "The young ladies of Minrathous have kept me occupied."
"I'm sure your father is pleased," said one Magister, whom Dorian had not yet met. "It's odd for a young man of your years to still be unattached," he said with a wink.
"He's not the only one," Felix said, jumping to Dorian's rescue. "Honestly Servis, you're making me feel quite left out." He was grinning, but his stance clearly said that the subject should be dropped. Servis nodded once politely, and Dorian averted his eyes from Felix, even though he was grateful to his friend. Gratitude meant he owed Felix, and he could not show that there was a debt in front of these men.
Dorian sipped his wine and listened to the conversations around him. They were more animated than any other meeting he'd ever been to of Alexius and the Venatori. Much of the conversation centered on a discovery in the Vimmark Mountains out in the Free Marches. Dorian hadn't heard anyone talk about the Free Marches so favorably in… well, in forever. Kirkwall was a failed port of a bygone era; and everything around it was uncultured southern land. The way they talked now made it sound like an exotic holiday location.
Halward Pavus's liveried guards lounged on the outskirts of the room, a constant reminder to Dorian that he must behave, or else. In the past weeks their presence had decreased, so it made him nervous about what tonight may hold. He had no doubt that his father was in constant contact with Alexius.
Fortunately, whatever had been discovered in the Vimmark Mountains dominated conversation and no one spared much attention to Dorian. He tried to eat; the duck was perfectly cooked, just rare enough; but his stomach was in knots. He considered feigning illness but the guards were stationed at the door and one glance told him that he was going nowhere. He clutched his napkin in his lap.
Felix was seated next to him, and he reached over under the tablecloth and patted Dorian's hand. The whole time Felix was smiling and nodding at something Eremond was saying. Dorian closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Then he forced himself to smile and eat and drink another glass of wine.
The manic conversation and sparkling eyes of each person around the table were enough to tell him what was next.
The lemon tartlet served for dessert was almost a sick joke.
When the table had been cleared by some very nervous servants Alexius bid them adjourn to his den. Again the floor was strewn with overstuffed cushions, and a pedestal filled with lyrium stood in the center of the room. Dorian felt the raw power surging around the room, like a beautiful and terrible song. He wanted to cover his ears but the music was inside of him, vibrating in his bones.
Alexius waved his hand and the globes around the room dimmed and the pool of lyrium was the only illumination. Eremond and Julex stood on either side of him. Three slaves were brought out and Dorian felt nauseous. They all stood unaware of what was happening; Dorian noted the blank stares and realized they must be drugged, possibly on lyrium. All three Magisters took out their gleaming sacrificial knives at the same time. The room pulsed with magic and rang with the daggers.
Dorian closed his eyes.
All three died silently, and when he opened his eyes again more slaves knelt before the dead collecting their blood in golden chalices. Then each Magister took his own chalice and poured it into the basin of lyrium.
The room went silent; Dorian could hardly even hear his pulse thrumming in his ears. Strange reddish light emanated from the basin and Alexius dipped his hand into it. He began to trace runes in the air before him, and where his hand went, he left behind a trail of glowing red. "We are the Venatori," he said. "The chosen ones, gods on this earth."
Everyone repeated the words. Except Dorian.
"We give ourselves to the Elder One. Our power is his power. His power will give us dominion over this world and in the Fade."
He finished his rune tracing. Then he dipped his chalice in the basin and, holding it reverently in both hands before the glowing rune, he tilted it back and drank some. The other Venatori lined up as the other two Magisters filled their chalices. Felix went first. He knelt before his father, who touched his head with a bloody hand and chanted a blessing in a language Dorian did not recognize—which in itself was frightening, for he was quite good with languages. Alexius handed his son the goblet. Dorian watched as Felix tipped it back and drank of the mix of sacrificial blood and lyrium.
Felix staggered away and found a place to lie back. His eyes were wide open, unblinking as he descended into the Fade. His body was rigid: he looked ready to run, even though he was prostrate. Mixing blood into the lyrium must have had a different effect.
The high-ranking Venatori were in various states of ecstasy in the Fade, their eyes wide open and their mouths smeared with blood. This was the future of Tevinter. Not overcoming the Qunari, not properly funding schools or allowing Laetans to have representation in the Magisterium; but bloody-faced men desperate to become gods. Dorian closed his eyes. He couldn't do this.
He opened his eyes to the ruddy light and the fainting Venatori. He saw the glowing bloody rune traced in the air. And he saw that there were no guards posted at the door, so he took a deep breath and quietly walked out. When he got to the hallway he broke into a run, headed for his rooms, one thought in mind.
Alexius was going to regret teaching Dorian what he knew about time manipulation magic.
Author's Note: Thank you for the new follows and favorites, and to everyone who's stuck with me! I appreciate the support so much. A huge thanks to everyone who has said so many kind words about my portrayal of Dorian. He's such a fascinating, deep character, and I've only been working with him for a few weeks (as opposed to Cailan, with whom I've been working for about three years!) so it's humbling and gratifying to hear that people enjoy him. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Unlike Dorian, I don't live in Tevinter, and I'm cool with having a debt of gratitude :)