Transitions (Twelfth Night, Orsino/Cesario)

The Duke Orsino had often imagined betrothal to be a time of romance – of long walks hand in hand, stolen kisses, and time spent in company as much as their lives would spare. His betrothal to Viola held little of that. There was some, but it seemed that from the moment the Duke placed the engagement ring on Viola’s finger, he began chasing her. She disappeared at the oddest times, for the oddest reasons. He’d given up sending his men to search for her. Her time spent as a page had given her a squirrel’s knowledge of the keep and the lands between.

Orsino glanced absently around the kitchens as he made his rounds of the castle in his last, desperate search for the day. So far he’d checked her chambers, the gardens, the courtyard, the stables, the cliffs, and the fencing yard. Once all the usual haunts were exhausted he’d give up and return to his room to read. He turned, moving through the halls absently, his thoughts drifting to memories past. When Cesario – Viola as Cesario – had been with him, they’d been inseparable. He paused with his hand on the wooden doorframe to the music hall. Not long ago, they’d sat here long into the night, smoking and playing cards while the piano played a love song. At the time he’d thought nothing of it beyond how enjoyable he found Cesario and how much of a pair of like minds they were.

Perhaps she was merely having difficulties adjusting to the change in station. A lot was different between then now, due entirely to the revelation of Viola’s gender. Much of what they used to share was bared to him, at least formally, by the terms of society. He certainly wouldn’t mind if Viola wanted to smoke, though she had never seem much inclined towards it, and was perhaps rather glad the chance of her sex excused her from it, but he was certain Cesario – Viola had begun to look forward to their fencing matches and riding with Orsino’s troops.

Many of his men had already made it clear, subtly, that they considered Cesario part of them, and that they would be willing to overlook certain social improprieties in his name. The thought brought him no small amount of comfort.

Perhaps that was what they needed. Orsino smiled and moved on, leaving the music room and its memories behind. He still wished that he wasn’t heading to his room alone, that perhaps for once he could catch Viola alone for something more indelicate than a kiss, but this revelation was a huge step forward. He’d broach the subject to Viola, the next time he saw her.