Spellbound

22. Frayed Vision

Lavellan didn't know how to not tell Fenris about the dreadful news. As he lay in bed and listened to the other slaves' regular breathing, he imagined how this situation would unravel. If Danarius truly came to get Fenris back, as Dorian predicted, Fenris would react with violence. Lavellan had seen enough of his trauma not to underestimate it, and Dorian probably respected it, too.

Could Lavellan hide Fenris? Perhaps Dorian could pretend that Fenris was no longer part of his household while Lavellan restrained the struggling elf down in the basement. Unfortunately, Danarius was a magister, and he probably had some magical seventh sense for smelling out Fenris.

Lavellan shuddered at the imagination of Fenris getting treated as an exchangeable good. Not too long ago, Lavellan had been on the same level, and he had been terrified out of his mind. In Dorian's home, he had learned not to sell himself short and not to hide, but he knew it was a rare luxury. If Fenris' sinister past flared, his survival instinct would have him raging.

Lavellan wanted to help him since he considered Fenris as the closest equivalent of a friend he had made in Tevinter. If Dorian came up with a plan, Lavellan would gladly support the mage.

For a while, he pondered how he trusted a blood mage. Not that Dorian had ever used his dark powers around Lavellan, but he did not differ from the person threatening to take Fenris away. When had Lavellan learned the nuances of trust in Tevinter? He refused to acknowledge they were possible in this country.

His fretting kept Lavellan up long past his bedtime. He concentrated on Fenris' proximity, his peaceful slumber as his eyes twitched behind his lids in vivid dreams. Dorian's taste lingered on Lavellan's tongue even after he had rinsed his mouth and it reminded him of their pleasure shared in blissful ignorance. Now that the spell had ended, Lavellan returned to the spiral of his dreadful thoughts.

Lavellan almost didn't dare to fall asleep since his fierce protectiveness, as he knew it from his clan, kept him awake. Sleep tugged him under slowly and seduced him with dancing fingers on his lids until he couldn't resist any longer.

He slept, and yet he was awake. He dreamt, but in his dream, he lay in his bed with his eyes wide open. Or was he awake?

A person stood at Fenris' bed in Lavellan's dream, but he didn't look like a threatening magister. His body was small, almost the size of an elf, though broad enough to pass as human. He wore a hat with a wide brim that flapped around his head and hid his features from view, but Lavellan sensed no threat from him.

He knew this person from somewhere. When he tried to remember, the memory dodged his seeking eyes like a flighty bird.

"He has been dreaming for a long time. It's about time he wakes up. Not everyone can hide in their dreams."

"Do I know you?" Lavellan asked, his voice like smoke in the dream.

The boy turned his head in Lavellan's direction almost imperceptibly.

"You do, but you can't remember me. I confused you, hurt your spirit. So I made you forget. You are hurting less now. Though it's not because I made you forget, but because of him."

The boy looked back at Fenris, whose face was twisted into a painful grimace in sleep. His breath was ragged and his fists clutched at his pillow while blue lyrium flared under his skin.

Illuminated in the pale light, the boy crouched in front of Fenris' bed. He didn't need to touch the elf, but his expression gradually smoothened out. An angry frown remained, but it was inscribed into Fenris' features.

"He lost a lot. Had he not got selected, he would have lived a very different life. He dreams of freedom and peace but not in the way Isabela does. She wants to be a pirate again, but he just wants to leave this country. I considered leading them to each other so they can find their happiness in each other. But I didn't have to. Someone else took care of that for me."