Spellbound

26. Freedom

Lavellan rested in a bed much softer than his usual cot. No harsh sunlight hit his face in the early morning and no bustling from other servants urged him to get to work faster. Silence greeted him in the pleasantly chilly room as a thick blanket kept him warm.

When his confusion about his location replaced his desire to sleep, Lavellan blearily lifted his head. Purple walls with golden accents greeted him. The curtains to the window brightening this area of the room were drawn shut, so the open canopy wouldn't let in too much light. The back half of the chamber was cast in the rich glow of late evening that filtered through the patterned glass.

Lavellan shifted his head. Soft silk cradled him as if he drifted in an ocean weightlessly. It was cool on his skin, but it stored heat as his blanket was tucked around his limbs.

Dorian rested on the other half of the broad bed. He slept on his back and his eyes were closed as his messy hair cascaded onto the pillow behind his head. His features were frozen as if cast in marble.

Once more, Lavellan turned. By the second, he regained his memories of their fight and of his agony. The pain he expected to crash into him never returned, and the incident felt as if it had happened days in the past. Had Cole soothed his mind to make it easier to recover? How long had he slept?

When his eyes caught onto a horned figure at the end of the bed, he froze. The lady in the elegant suit seated on the purple loveseat wasn't the Bull, and her horns seemed to be part of an extravagant headdress over being real. Goldie wound between her dark-skinned hands as she watched Lavellan's slow recognition.

He had seen her before, as a guest by Dorian's side. She smelled of magic, but not of the bitter tang blood magic carried. Dorian had called her Vivienne.

At his awe, she smiled a gracious smile. Her slender fingers caressed the languid snake.

"Good to see you wake. For a moment, you made me question my abilities." Her eyes were refined with their poise, but they didn't lack benevolence. Lavellan sat up slowly. He pressed a careful hand to the scrawny planes of his body to detect his injuries. He felt his touch, so he hadn't numbed, but the lack of pain made him suspicious.

"What happened?" Lavellan asked, confused about how the dynamic had changed after he had passed out. Where were Fenris and the Bull? Was Dorian fine? How had Vivienne found them?

"Dorian's messenger alerted me to Danarius' visit and asked for my help in the aftermath. Varric and I came as fast as we could, but I found you two darlings in a frightful condition. It must have been a disastrous fight," she guessed. Respect laced her voice.

Lavellan nodded along, too caught up in his mind to question Dorian's preparations.

"It was. There were a lot of demons and we got hurt. But I-"

Now, the lady stood from her chair. As she came over with elegant steps on her tall boots, she left the snake by Dorian's side to curl around her master.

The mage sat down by Lavellan's side. When her fingertips touched his shoulder, he flinched in dread of pain. Instead, just a cooling touch infused by healing magic flowed into him. He tried to relax, used to this from the time his hunts had left him injured and his clan's mages took care of him.

"I healed you, but it took a while to recover. You defeated Danarius a day ago."

"An entire day?" Lavellan repeated, astonished. When her touch faded, he humbly tugged his blanket closer to his chest. He was naked underneath it.

"You needed the time, darling, and I am glad you took it. The same goes for Dorian. He woke up in between, but I could convince him to go back to sleep."