Headcanon: Marius de Romanus Cannot Dance (in the club)
There is a moment in the opening chapter of Blood and Gold that I do not believe we discuss nearly enough. Marius takes Thorne to a nightclub.
A nightclub. A modern nightclub, filled with flashing lights, loud music, alcohol, body glitter, and mortals making choices they would regret by breakfast. Marius takes Thorne there to dance, observe humanity, and eventually catch dinner.
Anne Rice informs us that women are drawn to both of them in these scene. Naturally, the expected interpretation is that they are captivated by his beauty, his supernatural magnetism, and the general presence of an extraordinarily tall blond immortals. And, to be fair, all of that is probably true.
However, I have a theory.
Those women were not approaching them because they were dancing well. They were approaching because there were dancing terribly. Now, before anyone becomes defensive, let me clarify that I absolutely believe Marius knows how to dance.
Marius can ballroom dance. Marius can waltz. Marius can probably perform every formal court dance introduced in Europe over the past two thousand years. Give him a polished marble floor, a live orchestra, a room full of aristocrats, and a partner who understands exactly where to place her hand, and he will be magnificent.
He probably knows dances that no living historian has successfully reconstructed. He could perform a pavane so beautifully that an art historian would burst into tears. He could waltz with one hand behind his back. But dancing in a nightclub?
Absolutely not. There is simply no way. And we must remember that Blood and Gold was published in 2001.
This is the era of Bootylicious. This is the era of the Christina Aguilera, Lil’ Kim, Mýa and Pink version of Lady Marmalade. This is the musical environment into which Anne Rice placed Marius de Romanus and expected us to believe he was functioning normally. Ain’t no way in hell!
I refuse to believe that Marius walked into a club while Beyoncé announced that her body was too bootylicious and immediately knew what to do with himself. What was he doing? What dance did he select? Did he attempt to find the rhythm? Was he nodding solemnly to the beat?
I know exactly what happened. Marius walked into that club with the confidence of an immortal who has survived empires, religious upheavals, wars, betrayals, fires, abductions, and several extremely complicated personal relationships. He looked around at the mortals dancing and thought, Yes. I understand this. He did not understand it.
He probably began by shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Very slowly. Entirely off beat. There was no dance master. There were no clear steps.
There was only Christina Aguilera shouting “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?” while Marius stood beneath a strobe light trying to determine whether the people around him were dancing or having some kind of collective medical emergency.
And then there is Thorne. Poor Thorne. Thorne has only recently emerged from centuries beneath the ice. The modern world is already overwhelming enough. There are cars, electric lights, modern clothing, and social customs he does not understand. Then Marius takes him to a nightclub. Imagine being Thorne in that moment. I know, I know he was traveling around via outer body experience when he was under the ice, but come on!
You have awakened into a world that feels completely alien. You are trusting this ancient and powerful vampire to guide you through modern civilisation. Marius presents himself as cultivated, experienced, and entirely in command. Then Lady Marmalade begins playing and Marius starts dancing like somebody’s elegant divorced father at a wedding.
Marius has never lacked confidence in his own presentation. This is a man who has spent centuries commissioning art, designing houses, selecting clothing, educating fledgling vampires, and assuming that his aesthetic judgement is naturally superior. He would not think, Perhaps I am not good at this particular style of dancing. He would think, The modern style is rather inelegant, but I have adapted admirably.
He is tall, blond, blue-eyed, impeccably dressed, and probably wearing something that looks absurdly expensive without displaying a visible brand. He is impossible not to notice.
The women saw a devastatingly handsome man dancing with all the natural rhythm of column and experienced one of the most powerful emotions known to humanity: “Aww. Look at him. He’s trying.”
They were not seduced by his dancing. The were seduced by his physical appearance. And I don't blame them. I'd stumble over to him too!