Chapter Text
Dorian Pavus was the spitting image of his father, not that he would ever willingly admit to it. In his face were his father's sharp cheekbones and high brow, and his eyes were a dark grey without a touch of blue, outlined in kohl. Above them, his black brows slanted upward, cutting a startling oblique line in his rich brown skin-- common in the hot northern lands of Tevinter.
Seated with Flora and Fortuna Sallustius in the cool shade of the peristyle of his father's villa, he made a pretty picture. The left sleeve of his robes was cut high, exposing his shoulder and a hint of chest. Had his father been there he would have no doubt made him change into something more suitable. While no one in Minrathous would bat an eye at his choice in clothing, such a look was far too daring and avant-garde for the country. His choice in attire only belied his reputation. The grey eyes in his carefully made-up face were turbulent, willful, and lusty with life; a lure that many of his young peers had found themselves caught on.
On either side of him, the twins lounged easily against the stone steps, squinting at the sunlight as they laughed and talked. Twenty-two years old, long and lean, with sunburned faces and dark chestnut hair, their eyes were merry and arrogant, and their bodies clothed in identical pink summer dresses, they were as much alike as a pair of wisps. The girls were healthy, high-spirited, and as thoughtless as young animals. Although born to the ease of villa life, waited on hand and foot since infancy, their faces were neither slack or soft. They had the vigor and alertness of country people who have spent all their lives in the open and troubled their heads very little with dull things found in books. Life in the Valarian Fields was a little crude. The more sedate and settled cities looked down on their low-country brethren, who seemed to care for nothing but riding well, dancing lightly, and holding one's liquor like a lady. In these accomplishments the twins excelled, and they were equally outstanding in their notorious inability to learn anything contained between the covers of books. Their family had more money, more horses, more slaves than anyone else in the Fields, but the girls had less grammar than most of their poor Soporati neighbors.
Dorian, in contrast, was city-borne through and through. His manners -- instilled in him by his father's none-too-gentle admonitions -- were impeccable and his love of literature was only surpassed by his love for fine conversation and finer wine. Yet, Dorian had found himself dragged rather unceremoniously to his father's country estate after abandoning his apprenticeship to Gereon Alexius. Dorian had squandered much of his youth as year after year he was expelled from each new Circle. No one had wanted to take him on as their apprentice, at least not until Alexius offered himself as Dorian's mentor. Under Alexius's tutelage, Dorian excelled. He helped cultivate ground-breaking theories, published papers outlining the possibility of time travel, and quickly cemented himself as a rising star amongst the Tevinter elite. His father had been pleased with his progress, believing that Dorian had finally settled and found his place in the world. So it was to his great disappointment when Dorian suddenly turned up at his childhood home in Qarinus without explanation, except to say that he would not be returning to Alexius. There were rumors that he had a falling out with his mentor. No one was quite sure what had happened between the two, but Halward's displeasure at his son's behavior was all anyone could talk about. They had left the city soon after and arrived in the Valarian Fields for a "holiday", as Halward termed it. Flora and Fortuna, who had not willingly opened a book since leaving the Circle of Magi a year before, thought it a fine joke.
"I don't know why your father's so sore about you leaving Alexius," Flora commented carelessly. "You would have had to come home before the year was out anyway."
Dorian looked down at the girl, thoroughly bemused by her matter-of-fact speech. "Why?"
"The war, dummy! It's going to start any day now! Who could stay cooped up in a musty old library when there's a war on?"
"You know there isn't going to be any war," said Dorian, bored. "It's all just talk. Do you know how many of these old god cults have emerged since the fall of the Imperium? Fifty-seven. Now, how many of those have ever succeeded in starting a war? Zero. The Venatori are the same. They have no leader, no resources, and hardly any manpower."
"Not going to be any war!" cried the twins indignantly, as though they had been defrauded.
"Why, of course there's going to be a war," Fortuna insisted. "The Southerners are in a state of chaos. Their mages have finally thrown off their shackles! This might be our only chance. Without a war-"
Dorian couldn't keep from rolling his eyes. "I have never gotten so tired of any one word in my life as 'war'. I'm so bored. It's all anyone ever talks about. I haven't enjoyed myself at any of the parties this spring because of it. If you say 'war' one more time I will go inside."
Dorian meant what he said, for this was one subject that he could do with never hearing again, even if he had not been completely truthful about the reasons he had given. But he smiled when he spoke, consciously deepening his dimple and tilting his head in such a way that it showed off his beauty mark. The girls were enchanted, as he had intended them to be, and hastened to change the conversation to one more palatable to their friend: Magister Carloman's ball.
"I hope it doesn't rain tomorrow," Dorian remarked. "it's rained nearly every day for a week. There's nothing worse than a garden party turned indoor picnic."
"Oh, it'll be clear tomorrow and hot as Matrinalis. Look at that sunset. I never saw one redder. You can always tell weather by sunsets."
They looked out across the courtyard of Halward's grand villa toward the red horizon. The trees were all in blossom and the air was heady with the scent of citrus. The heat crept into Dorian's bones, making him lazy and stupid with warmth. He was content to watch the slaves crawl around the garden, pulling out weeds with their bare hands. Outdoor garden parties were all the rage this season and his mother demanded that the courtyard be filled with every flower imaginable.
"Look, I know I promised to give all my dances to Damon, but there's no reason why I shouldn't also get a waltz or two with you," said Flora.
"Well, I don't know. It doesn't seem right stealing you from another man," Dorian teased back.
"But you've got to give me the first waltz and Fortuna the last one and you've got to eat supper with us. We'll sit on the stair landing like we did when we were kids."
"And what about all the other girls I promised to sit with?"
"Ha! Like you could find any better than us!" Fortuna mocked.
Flora leaned forward, a sly smile gracing her pretty face. "If you promise, we'll tell you a secret," she said.
"What?" asked Dorian, alert as a child at the word.
"Well, when we were in town yesterday picking up our new dresses from the seamstress, we happened to spot Felix Alexius riding through the thoroughfare. He's the son of your mentor, isn't he? Well, former mentor."
Dorian's face did not change but his lips went white, like a person who had received a stunning blow without warning and who, in the first moments of shock, did not realize what had happened. So still was his face as he stared at Flora that she, never analytic, took it for granted that he was merely surprised and very interested.
"I heard that he had stayed the night at his cousin's and that he'll be at Magister Carloman's ball tomorrow, though I couldn't begin to imagine why. Isn't it dangerous for him to be out in public because of, you know..." Here, Flora looked about conspiratorially, as though anyone was interested in what they had to say. "His Blight sickness?"
"Felix isn't contagious," Dorian snapped, though his tone went ignored.
"Now, Dorian, we've told you the secret, so you've got to promise to eat supper with us."
"Of course I will."
"And all the waltzes?"
"All."
The twins looked at each other jubilantly but with some surprise. They knew Dorian was arranged to marry Livia Herathinos -- and had been since they were both in the cradle -- but they thought if he had been a free man then Dorian would have undoubtedly chosen one of them to marry. He had practically promised them the whole of tomorrow-- seats by him at the banquet and all the waltzes. And they'd see to it that the dances were all waltzes!
Filled with new enthusiasm by their success, they lingered on into the early evening, talking about the banquet and the ball and Felix Alexius, interrupting each other, making jokes and laughing, hinting broadly for invitations to supper. Some time had passed before they realized that Dorian had very little to say. The atmosphere had somehow changed. Just now, the twins did not know, but the fine glow had gone out of the afternoon. Dorian seemed to be paying little attention to what they said, although he made the correct answers. Sensing something they could not understand, baffled and annoyed by it, the twins struggled along for a while and then rose reluctantly, the sun already sunk low in the sky.
They called to their manservant and told him to hitch their horses, before turning back to give one last goodbye to their friend, but Dorian had already gone inside without so much as a backward glance.
When the twins were gone, Dorian let slip the strained smile that he had fixed upon his face and collapsed into a chair like a sleepwalker. He leaned back wearily, his heart swelling up with misery until it felt too large for his chest. A feeling of disaster oppressed him.
Felix was coming here! The twins were mistaken. They were playing one of their jokes on him. Alexius wouldn't let Felix out of his sight. His constitution was too poor. It was dangerous for him to travel all the way from Minrathous to the Valarian Fields on his own. It was too ridiculous to even consider it.
Dorian heard Cyrion's soft tread coming up beside him and he hastily righted himself and tried to rearrange his face in more placid lines. It would never do for Cyrion to suspect that anything was wrong. Otherwise, word would undoubtedly get back to his father and that was one conversation Dorian did not want to have. He would be forced to reveal everything, or think up some plausible lie. Cyrion emerged from the hall, an elvish slave with the bowed and weary countenance of an old man. He had quickly become the mainstay of the Pavus household since Halward bought him some ten years ago. Despite being an elf and a Fereldan barbarian, Cyrion's genteel manner was as cultured as those of his owners. The elf officially served as Halward's valet, but more often his father had him chasing after Dorian like a beleaguered nanny. If Cyrion thought something wrong he would scent it out like a mabari hound.
"Are the young ladies not staying for supper? I already told Korina to set two extra plates for them."
"Oh, I was so tired of hearing them talk about the Venatori that I couldn't have endured it through supper. Besides, what would my dear fiancée think if she found out that I was entertaining two women while out in the Fields?" Dorian grinned cheekily up at him.
Cyrion looked summarily unimpressed. "I am sure no one in Minrathous would think your virtue was in any danger while in their company."
Well, he certainly had a sly mouth for an old man. Dorian stood up, making sure to keep his face turned away with a studied air nonchalance. He brushed off nonexistent dust from his clothes and sniffed. "I think I'll take a walk before supper. Father should be back from town any minute now."
His father would know whether this rumor was true.
Cyrion opened his mouth to reply, but Dorian was already going down the steps and back out onto the peristyle. He crossed the courtyard and exited through the gate, picking up his long cream-colored robes as he hurried down the driveway. The lemon trees on either side of the cobbled drive had been knotted together to create an arch overhead, turning the long avenue into a dim tunnel. As soon as he was beneath their gnarled arms, he knew he was safe from Cyrion's sharp gaze and he slowed his swift pace. He eventually came to the end of the drive and sat down on a stump to wait for his father. It was past time for him to come home, but he was glad that he was late. The delay would give him time to calm his face so that Halward's suspicions would not be aroused. He looked out across the fields and plains, now cast in a blood-red light as the sun was swallowed by the earth.
It had been cruel of him to leave so suddenly without saying goodbye to Felix, but his friend would have demanded an explanation and what could Dorian have told him? "I'm sorry, I know you love your father, but I can no longer work for him. He's crazy and wants to join an evil old god cult." How could he tell him that? Felix was his best -- his only -- friend. Alexius may have his faults, but he cared for his son. Felix was the only thing that kept him anchored to this world after the death of his wife. There was nothing he wouldn't do for him, including, apparently, turning to heathen gods and forbidden magic for help. It was tragic. Alexius was brilliant. He had wanted to change Tevinter. But now...
Dorian just wanted to spare Felix the pain. He had already lived through so much. He couldn't bear it if he caused him any more hurt. Felix meant too much to him to do that.
He saw his father riding up then. Halward Pavus looked like a black shadow outlined in red against the sunset. He was fairly short for a human, but the way he held himself made him appear much taller than he was. His back was stiff and straight in the seat of his saddle and he held his chin cocked upward, evidence of his breeding. When he walked, he moved like a man with purpose. There was no idleness to him or unnecessary fidgeting. He was what Dorian aspired -- and failed at -- to be. Halward was a voice of reason and moderation in the Magisterium, one that many people looked to for guidance. Dorian doubted if anyone would ever seek his advice the way they sought his father's.
"Dorian, what are you doing out here?" He asked as he came to a stop, sliding down from his black mare in one graceful movement. Dorian stood up and went to his father as the man led his horse down the drive by the reigns. He tried to ignore the suspicious tone in Halward's voice. Things had been strained between them since Dorian left Alexius's employ. He knew that if he just explained what had happened his father would understand, but Dorian didn't want him to think badly of Alexius. He was a good man, just pushed into desperation by grief. Alexius would eventually come around. What else could he do? The Venatori had no future. In time, they would fade away like so many cults before them. Dorian saw no need to bring Alexius's misguided views to public attention. Not only would it harm a father who simply wanted to help his son, it would bring ruin to Felix as well and his position was already precarious due to his illness.
"I was waiting for you. I just wondered if you heard any interesting news while in town. It's so dull here."
"You're asking after Felix." It wasn't a question.
Dorian cocked his head like the matter meant little to him. "Oh? Has something happened to him?"
"He's in town for a few days. Staying with a cousin, I believe." Halward took Dorian by the arm, turning him so that he could peer sharply into his face. "And if that's why you came out here to wait for me, why didn't you say so without beating around the bush?"
Dorian could think of nothing to say, and he felt his face growing red with annoyance.
"Is Felix the reason why you abandoned your apprenticeship? Have you been making a spectacle of yourself -- of all of us -- by dallying with him?" Halward demanded, his voice rising. "Have you been running after a man when you could have your pick of girls?"
Anger and hurt pride drove out some of the pain. "I haven't been running after him! We're just friends!"
"Do not take that tone with me," his father reprimanded, but then, looking at his stricken face, he added a bit more kindly: "You are still young. You will grow out of these diversions and settle down soon enough. I will take you to Minrathous next month and you'll be able to spend some time with Livia. You'll soon forget all about Felix."
"Will you stop treating me like a child!" cried Dorian. "I don't want to go to Minrathous or marry Livia. I don't want-" He caught himself but not in time.
Halward was very quiet and he spoke slowly, as though it was taking all of his willpower to hold back the force of his words. "Would you just turn your back on everything then? Tradition, responsibility... do they mean nothing to you?"
"Tradition is what is holding Tevinter back! If we want to become great again then we must change!"
"Without tradition this land wouldn't be Tevinter anymore," Halward countered. "We must preserve our way of life. It is the only thing in this world that lasts, the only thing worth working for-- worth dying for."
Halward sighed then and started to walk once more. "It'll come to you. There's no getting away from it, you were born of Tevinter. What do you know of the outside world except for the things you've read in books? When you are older you will see. There is nothing like Tevinter. Our cities were old when the rest of Thedas still squatted in straw huts. All this Southern business of marrying for love, like servants! I'm sure it sounds very romantic to you, but that isn't love. Just lust, hardly a solid foundation for a marriage. A marriage is a business. It doesn't matter who you marry so long as she is a Tevinter with good breeding and can bear you children. Love -- real love -- will come after."
Dorian wanted to point out that even after thirty years of marriage neither of his parents held any affection for one another, but he had already pushed his father's patience far enough for one evening. They walked together, side-by-side, underneath the avenue of lemon trees, feeling very alone in each other's company.