Spellbound

8. Golden Pillows

The bustling of the slaves early in the morning roused Lavellan from his sleep. He was used to getting up before the sun so he could use the last twilight of the night to catch animals sneaking back to their caves with exhausted legs from a long night of hunting. By the time it was noon, he usually had food for the entire clan on the table, but he wouldn't do any of that today. The slaves of Dorian's household could easily buy their ingredients in the markets of Minrathous and prepare food at home.

When Lavellan lifted his head from his pillow, he blearily blinked against the bright room. Someone had opened the shutters cruelly and the first light of day fell directly onto his face, giving away why this bed had been the one vacant. The maids were busy yanking their corsets shut and layering their skirts, unbothered by the men in the same room.

Fenris was up already, too, and he tried to get his unruly white locks into shape while Lavellan swung his legs over the side of the bed.

He had slept like a stone despite his unfamiliar surroundings. He remembered having talked to someone in his dream, but he didn't recall the message the conversation had conveyed.

Once Lavellan got dressed in his clothes from the prior evening, he joined Fenris' side. At seeing him refreshed after his rest, a gratified smirk slid over the elf's features so fast that Lavellan nearly missed it. It looked conciliable on his surly features, even when the hard lines of his face were not used to the expression.

"Good morning," he greeted Lavellan in his gruff voice that was still scratchy from sleep. With the same hopeless brush of his hand through his hair as the fellow elf, Lavellan eyed himself in the little mirror the dozen of slaves in the room shared. His eyes were sunken with paranoia and discomfort, but he looked less pale than the day prior. Surrounded by such amounts of dark energy, he had expected to shrivel like a leaf in autumn.

"I slept surprisingly deep."

Fenris grunted as he shook his hair out, giving up on any order as he stood. When he beckoned Lavellan to follow him, the Dalish trailed after him. The massive tables in the main hall had disappeared. Order had returned to the large space now used to welcome guests and nothing remained of last night's party. The orb resembled a warm sun and lost the alluring hue of its dimmed version.

None of the important people from last night were in sight, but Lavellan guessed they were still asleep. After that much drinking, no sane person would leave for the forests in the night. Robbers of all kinds waited for unwise nobles like that.

"Yes, this place does that. I had insomnia before coming here but slept peacefully ever since. I'm convinced Pavus puts a hex on this house at night that keeps everyone down under," Fenris grumbled to himself. A muttered curse about mages followed, and Lavellan agreed to the discomfort of that thought. He didn't dislike mages per se, but he disliked being enslaved by one. Especially a Tevinter mage. Their power was beyond Lavellan's ways to defend himself, and the loss of control made them scary enemies.

"Pavus told me to send you to him right after you woke up today so you could start your job. It seems he sees a warrior in you." Fenris' searching eyes disclosed he had noticed the same; as Lavellan had the other way around. When he nodded, Fenris shifted his gaze at the kitchen door to open it. They dodged the bustling servants as they prepared a tray of food.

"Is that good news?"

"It could be worse. It might put you in danger, but it's something you are used to doing. Back when I arrived here, he offered me work as his secret second bodyguard. A spy, somewhat. Someone who has his back while the people out to exploit him think they only have to get past the Bull's stubborn but admittedly intelligent head." Fenris made for the door once he was done shoving a light meal onto the tray. Lavellan opened it for him and they stepped into the hall again.