Spellbound

17. Resignation

Lavellan's promise to drink with the Bull got rescheduled to a later date since more festivities took demanded their time first. Dorian drowned the household into preparations for visitors yet again, and this time, Lavellan would play a larger role during the arrangements. Some friends of Dorian's extended family came by, and the mage was paranoid about the information about his life they would communicate to his parents.

Lavellan didn't pry, but he got a feeling Dorian dreaded nothing more than disappointing his father.

Throughout two days of preparation, Dorian was in a flurry. He zipped left and right, had the furniture moved, decorations strung up, and transformed the threatening entrance hall into one Orlais could be jealous of. Flowers decorated every surface, colourful curtains framed the stained glass windows, and Dorian had dragged out his most costly golden statues of various animals to match his pillars. The colour scheme was a soft lavender mixed with gold and white and it was unlike the gothic home Lavellan was used to.

On the day of the celebrations, Lavellan woke up to a white uniform folded at the foot of his bed. He stuffed his tired limbs into it, surprised to find that other than his regular clothes, it wasn't too short on his legs. While stiff and forcing him to stop slouching, the fabric was merciful enough that it wouldn't torture him all day. Once he had tied the golden sash around his narrow waist, he emerged into the festive foyer.

The other servants were dressed similarly orderly as him. Everyone with long hair had braided their curls with great care, and Lavellan had to double-take Fenris, whose messy fringe was pushed back into a refreshing new look. Suddenly much less dull and rather dashing, the elf kept his back straight as he helped adjust the last few statues.

Awed by the transformation the house had undertaken, Lavellan smoothed out his lapels. The uniform was framed by golden accents and embroidery on the front, so he was careful not to touch it with dirtied hands.

As he joined Fenris, Lavellan spotted Dorian across the room. He was dressed properly compared to his usual fashion, though he lost none of his dramatic flairs. His heavy robe was a deep black, and the billowing cape made him look bigger. No wide collar gave insight into his tanned skin, as his fitted black clothes clung to him like a second skin. He looked modest and yet extravagant, with the purple waistcoat whose tassels sparkled in the same gold as his heavy necklaces.

He looked like what Lavellan would imagine a magister to look like. Scary and imposing, dark in an otherwise mellow surrounding.

Fenris nodded at Lavellan once they joined forces.

"This suits you more than expected. I had assumed you would look out of place, but your face is handsome enough you could charm any court," Fenris noticed with a scoff. Lavellan chuckled with him. Fenris' new hairstyle bothered him, and his shifty eyes couldn't hide behind his fringe anymore.

"Good for sneaking, isn't it?"

They dusted off the already clean statue and sorted the books on the shelf so none laid askew. While Lavellan finished up with another round of dusting, Fenris checked that the vases in the lower cupboard were in order in case some curious visitor peeked inside.

When a person cleared their throat behind Lavellan, he glanced over his shoulder. Dorian looked at him with eyes stormy as the sea and Lavellan's hands froze in their movement. Fenris noticed the stiff turn of his body and stood, too.

"Fenris meus, Lavellan meus. May I interrupt you for a moment?"

Fenris crossed his arms, displeased with the name.

"You rarely hesitate. Practising your script for the guests?" Fenris retorted while Lavellan tried to calm his racing heart. It was startled to speak to Dorian again for the first time after their shared night. Nervous anticipation mixed with dread.