Spellbound

7. Birthday Celebrations

Lavellan couldn't hide from his new occupation as a slave forever. While he was more than content forging his diabolical plans while under the disguise of a simple kitchen hand, he knew it was downright impossible that he could avoid the house's regulations.

For as long as the guests dined outside, he ducked away. He left it to the other servants to carry out the trays while he feigned work by keeping the fires in check. The nobles of Tevinter chuckled their subdued laughs over barrels of wine. The scent of alcohol overpowered the foul stench of cursed magic and loosened their tongues. Soon, the most unexpected of foes found each other's arms in mutual drunkenness.

Since Lavellan couldn't watch the master of his house from his location, he didn't know if he let loose. Amassing information about false allies confessed in foolish tipsiness could be his most precious birthday present. But perhaps he got drunk with the rest of them and nobody cared too much about thinking thoughts.

Fenris didn't tattle on Lavellan's hideout, but he got found anyway. By the time The Iron Bull dipped into the kitchens with his head lowered so his horns would fit through the passage, most guests outside had dulled to sleepy mutters.

"Where is the Dalish?" Bull wanted to know, not sounding drunk despite the masses of alcohol the maids had lamented about having to bring him.

Lavellan hid behind his hair, but it was no use. He got pointed out and inevitably had to turn around. With a deep breath, he put on a scowl and faced the Tal-Vashoth.

The Bull laughed when he saw him.

"You look like Fenris already. I like that. He keeps up a good fight," the Bull said. When Lavellan grimaced in disgust about what that might mean, the Bull barked a laugh that smelled of booze and meat.

"Follow me. I need to introduce you."

Lavellan trudged behind him, knowing he would get hauled around like a kitten again if he didn't comply. Warily, he watched the main hall.

Most guests had fallen asleep on the table or left for either their homes or the guest bedrooms. The atmosphere was relaxed, and the shining orb of light above had dulled to adjust to the late evening.

Since the room was so cosy and warm, Lavellan's own exhaustion wore on him again. He didn't care about slavery and getting sacrificed to some blood god tomorrow, but he would give anything to collapse into that bunk bed and sleep for a few hours. He hadn't slept since passing out in the cage bringing him from the Free Marches to Tevinter. That nap had hardly been good sleep.

Lavellan hoped that once this conversation was over, he would get to rest. Until then, his attentive facade had to strike a first impression of being no easily tamed slave.

The chair of the Altus was empty, as were those of his close friends. They had assembled near the fireplace with their chalices and toasted in the privacy of the smaller circle to the mage's birthday. On his lap and winding over his unoccupied arm, Pavus entertained a golden snake. Its smooth body looped around his skin as it tested the stuffy air.

Lavellan slowed behind the Bull, apprehensive to get too close to the group and the animal. He respected snakes for their hypnotic daze, followed by lightning-fast strikes for prey. This one wasn't big enough to swallow huge limbs, but it could be venomous.

Pavus caressed the animal's skull as he looked up to greet them. Right away, his eyes fell behind Bull onto Lavellan, who fidgeted with his hands by his sides.

Lavellan hated facing this man without weapons. He wanted to fight for his freedom, wanted to challenge the vain mage and his concepts of slavery. However, his hands were empty. Despite being free of shackles, he felt useless for not having something in his fists.