"I am happy you could come, Dorian," Halward Pavus, head of House Pavus, and Dorian's father, said, while attempting a smile. "Your mother will be pleased as well."
"Yes, I'm sure," Dorian said, dryly. His father was making the attempt. He might as well humor the man. It's what Lachlan would want him to do. "It is good to see that you aren't...dead?"
"I...what?" Halward blinked, clearly confused, and a little alarmed.
"Ugh, sorry, that came out completely wrong," Dorian sighed as he swiped a hand over his eyes. "I was worried that my association with the Inquisition might have made you a target."
"Oh...I see," Halward nodded with a slight smile. This time, actually genuine. "I have to say, it has indeed made life interesting. Between the, rather markedly, increased social invitations, and serious threats and angry retorts, I have not had any particular increase in attempts on my life."
"So...standard Tervinter life, is what you are saying," Dorian chuckled.
"More or less, yes," Halward nodded as he swept an arm toward the line of servants that stood to either side of the walkway leading to the doors of the Pavus main house.
A walkway, Dorian noted, that was covered in rose petals. He hated roses….
"Ah, yes," Halward nodded, catching Dorian's glower. "Your mother's idea. She has been fairly pleased in the upswing of her social life. But she does still hold a bit of a grudge about the marriage."
"Of course she does," Dorian sighed as he walked with his father into the house. Not that it was anything like a real house. The main hall would almost give Skyhold a run for its money.
Okay, not really. But it was still extremely large.
"Mother would never give up a chance to have something to complain about," with a dramatic sigh, Dorian looked about. "Besides, she need ammunition when trying to undercut one's self confidence. She would be a horrible harpy in that situation."
"Heh," Halward actually let out a quiet laugh before changing the subject. "I had your things taken to your old rooms. Your mother had ordered them to remain untouched in your absence, as she was in mourning. I, however, made sure the staff kept them clean."
"Mourning?" Dorian blinked incredulous. "She was in mourning? For me? Because I didn't marry that stupid girl from House Sorenn?"
Halward gave his son a noncommittal shrug. "She is a bit melodramatic. You should have heard the wailing when word reached us about the fall of Haven."
"I can only imagine," Dorian crossed his arms. "Let me guess, she was so happy to find out I was alive, that she had the 'vapors' and needed to have a retreat. Complete with minstrels, actors and massage oils?"
"You know your mother well, son." Halward sighed. "You know her well."
Leaning back in his chair, Dorian stretched in the morning sunlight. It was nice and warm here, in Minrathos. The sun actually worked here. It didn't just mock you with the hint of warmth, only to have a wind cold enough to freeze the nipples off a darkspawn.
Wish I could share this with Lachlan, he mused forlornly. He's probably picking elfroot while Dark Templars shot arrows at his head. Again.
"Master?" a rather pretty young girl spoke next to him. "Would you like for me to crack your egg for you?"
"What?" Dorian blinked, taken aback. "No, of course not. I can open my own egg."
"Ah!" the girl flinched back, her eyes dropping to the floor. "Uh...of course! Please forgive me!"
"Oh, for the love of," Dorian cursed quietly to himself as he tapped the sides of the shell of his soft boiled egg. He had forgotten what it was like, having slaves around. Being in Skyhold had made him disgustingly self sufficeint. "No, forget it," he sighed, glancing at the girl. "If you are eager to do things, I would appreciate a refill on my wine, and then be a dear and fetch me an ink pot and quill."
"Yes, master," girl smiled and blushed as she dashed off.
"Really?" Dorian asked the egg as he shook his head. Then he picked up the wine jug and topped off his goblet.
Love,
I can't tell you how uncomfortable it is here. The food is perfect. The wine is amazing. I even have a cat on my lap, right now.
But I hate it because you aren't here.
I really wish I brought you with me, what others thought be damned.
But, honestly, I am more happy that you aren't here. In the week I have been here, I have already had four attempts on my life.
Ah, all by bungling idiots of course. Nothing actually dangerous!
I am terrible at this aren't I?
No matter, two more days, then the great Ball my mother is throwing, in her own honor, of course, then I will return to you Anon.
Anon. That is a stupid word.
Yours in Love,
D
"Dorian!" Aquina Thalrassin, wife of Halward Pavus, and mother to Dorian Pavus, exclaimed loudly as she shuffled daintily into the 'small' salon. Only twenty five of her closest fren-emies and sycophants.
"Ah, greetings, mother," Dorian stood and bowed lightly. "I am pleased to see you are in good health."
That, was a lie. All around. He most certainly was not pleased to see his mother. And she did not look to be in good health.
She was, of course. But her thick makeup, stooped posture and shuffling gait did all it could to project the air of some fragile beauty, bereft of light and love, estranged from her family….
It right made Dorian sick.
"Oh, dear son," the Harpy breathed as a rather strapping young slave gently assisted her into a seat. The young man looked to, maybe, be over the age of sixteen. And he was oiled.
"I was so lost with sorrow, having heard of your potential death," the Harpy continued. "I struggled to plan your funeral. I had such plans…" she sighed wistfully, while fixing him with a stare that said, How dare you survive and make me waste all that pity!
"Well, I am happy to inform you, that I not only survived, but I am working closely with the Inquisitor, himself," Dorian said cheerfully, ignoring his mother's cold eye. "In fact, we work hand in hand, thrusting through many of the problems facing Thedas. It is my hope we can come to a conclusion soon."
"Oh…" the Harpy said, her false smile faltering slightly. She was not exactly the brightest candle in the Chantry, but she knew she was being mocked, even if she didn't quite understand how. "Well, yes," she plowed on. "And once this business is settled, I am looking forward to your coming home. I am so looking forward to finishing the engagement with the young miss Sorenn."
Dorian's eyes flashed for a moment as he set his tea cup down a little too firmly for proper decorum. Looking at his mother, and her self satisfied sneer, it was all Dorian could do to stop himself from turning her in a gnewt.
"Oh, mother, dearest," he leaned back and grinned at her, foretelling his master stroke. Maker, how I love that little widening of the eyes as she feels the fear….
"I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but I have come to a conclusion that might make that engagement difficult, to say the least."
"I...I see," the Harpy said, haltingly. "And what, may I dare to ask, would that be?"
"Well mother, I have found that I really like Cock."
Bored, Dorian thought to himself as he let his eyes roam the main hall. All around him swirled the social elite of Tervinter. All these people, in their colorful, gaudy clothes, talking, without saying anything, lest they give a rival an advantage. Dancing, but without joy, lest a rival see a moment of weakness.
And Dorian gave no real shits. Honestly, he couldn't even be bothered to put on the fake smile he usually wore. Instead he stood in a corner, drinking a bit too deeply from an over full goblet, swallowing it halfway down in a single pull.
With a sigh, he simply held the goblet out to the side and watched as the pretty young girl, the slave he had taken a bit of a shine to, Rosalie, refilled the goblet, with a smile. And the large bottle of wine that she carried for his personal use.
Bit harder to poison one that way.
Unless the girl was an assassin.
Then he wouldn't have to deal with this damn party anymore.
*BRAWNG* ran the large gong that stood beside the from doors. It was a hideous thing. Supposedly captured from the Qunari is some major engagement or another. His mother had found it charming and simply must have it!
Now she used it to signal when a guest arrived.
The ball had been going for several hours already, at this point. In fact, whomever this was, had to either be very important, enough to be well more than fashionably late, or they were about to be social crushed forever.
Either would be something interesting for Dorian.
"Announcing. Lady Lucille Minerva Astra Trevelyn of Ostwick. Countess Kellend, of Ferelden, and Former First Enchanter for Emperor Flidious the Second of Orlais. Related to the line of Pavus by Cousin-bond, nine times removed."
Choking, Dorian nearly spat wine through his nose as his eyes shot over to the hall's entrance.
At the top of the stairs stood an older woman. The kind of age that hit a certain point around sixty and promptly froze, probably out of fear, until death. The gown she wore would almost put anything Vivienne had to shame. It was cut in the latest fashion form Orlais itself, ahead even, of most of the gathered 'Elite' already here.
The colors though, were those of the Inquisition.
And the man at her arm nearly made Dorian's eye pop from surprise.
"Accompanying her, is Lord Lachlan Delcius Trevelyan, second son of Bann George Trevelyan of Ostwick. Current head of the Inquisition of the South. Dragon Slayer. Related to the line of Pavus by Cousin-bond, nine times removed."
Lachlan's normally wild red hair was oiled back and bound at the nape of his neck with a silver clasp. One Dorian had given him, in fact. His face was cleanly shaven, to Dorian's slight dismay, but the smirk on his face. And the way his face lit up when he caught sight of Dorian. The wink of those violet eyes….
Almost made up for that damned smug expression.
"There is going to be no living with him after this," Dorian attempted to grumble, but he couldn't keep the joy from his voice as he glanced back at the puzzled Rosalie.