Corbin shook his shoulders as Dorian propped up by the bar. He told him that he had to settle a game of dice with Damien, and then he left him. His warning to Dorian not to get himself into trouble only made Dorian smirk.
As he settled alone and asked for a whiskey from the bartender, Dorian took in the familiar scene: the drinking and the terrible dancing, the haze of the smoke in the amber-lit room, the boasting and laughing, the drunken brawls over games of dice or darts.
Fucking Mons, he loved this place.
It was a closeness and freedom he'd discovered he craved from his first visit. To not have to project such a royal face here. Somewhere he could just...Be. Without the worry of a kingdom in ruin. Without fear of the war on their shores and the treachery of his brother and his people.
There were moments when he contemplated giving up every thought of the war and simply living out his days there in peace. When he considered going to the Umber, kidnapping his sister, and bringing her back there, desperate to keep her safe while the rest of their world fell into servitude and squander.
At least they would be okay. At least they would live.
But every time such a thought entered his mind, he remembered what all he'd accomplished in his time there, and he knew he couldn't give all that up when he'd come so far.
His gaze continued to wander around the room to the groups of men and women, all laughing, some dancing. Giggles and slaps from the women when men they knew would grab their asses playfully and whisper sexual banter in their ears. The women would do the same, each as aggressive as the person they were bringing back to bed with them.
Dorian caught a glimpse of Hagen on the stool at the opposite end of the bar with Katla pushed between his legs, her head dipped in front of him. Hagen squeezed the backs of her thighs. His mouth brushed Katla's jaw, and Dorian didn't miss the whirl of her dagger suddenly pointed at Hagen's jaw for whatever it was Hagen had just said. But Hagen didn't seem to care, not then, not with the smokey haze and drinks in them. He grinned at Katla, dare in his gaze, and then he kissed her hard.
Dorian took a long drink upon the bartender setting his whiskey down in front of him.
"Congratulations on your victory, Prince," Smyths said, wiping out a cup with his rag. "That last trial was quite a feat. I think I speak for most of us when I say we are glad to see you back on your feet."
Dorian raised his cup. "I appreciate that," he said sincerely.
"What will you do now?"
"I think I'll stay for a bit," Dorian replied as his eyes washed around the room once more.
"Not eager to get back to the war, are you?"
"Is there a reason I should be?" Dorian asked.
Smyths smiled at him. "I'll keep your drinks coming."
Dorian thanked him again with a raise of his cup, and then he knocked back the familiar nyghtfire. A couple of women came up to him after a few minutes, and Dorian pulled his usual flirtatious banter up, making them giggle and swoon. Until the pair gave him directions to their home, and Dorian told them he would find them later in the night.
After a while, he made his way back outside to still in the night air, allowing the chill over his bones. He'd just sat down at one of the tables by the edge of the square and pulled his pipe from his pocket when he heard the noise of Reverie's laugh.
He recognized it because it was so rare that he'd committed it to memory.
She was laughing at a Blackhand's joke over by the tavern door. He had his arm pressed over her against the wall. She swirled the drink in her cup and shook her head when he whispered something in her ear.
Dorian felt his jaw stiffen, and he started packing his pipe a little more ravenously than before.
He didn't bother looking away, not even when she looked over and caught his gaze. A knowing smirk spread over her lips, and he continued to watch her. She pressed on the Blackhand's chest after a few more laughs and then turned to join Dorian.
"You should guard your gaze," she said as she approached. "Or at least your form."
"I wasn't aware you were seeing a Blackhand," he said, voice a little more snappy than he meant it to be.
"Neither was I," she countered. "You have a problem with my flirtation?"
"Nope," he assured her, lips popping the ‘p.’
But even as the conversation seemed to be over, Reverie smiled and sat on the tabletop.
"I'm curious, Prince," she said. "If we weren't going to the Bryn, would you have decided it was time to go to my village?"
"Are you really so desperate to get back to whatever life it was you had before this?" he asked, head tilting.
