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“Magister Pavus?” a servant calls softly, making Dorian look up from the ever growing stack of papers on his desk. “Visitors for you.”
Frowning, he puts down his papers, secretly glad of the interruption. “Visitors? There are no meetings on my schedule today.”
Unannounced visitors are usually not a good thing. It's either someone who wishes the visit be relatively secret, in which case, someone is usually in trouble or about to get him in trouble. Or… well. An assassin.
In either case, he's dying for a distraction, and calls some subtle heat to his fingertips, ready to become a blaze if needed.
The servant offers an almost shy grin, which is unlike her, and only increases his curiosity.
“No, Ser, but I would hazard a guess that you would want to see these guests.”
Before he can ask, Evelyn strides in, smile beaming on her face and her arms opening for a hug. Delighted, he gets up and lets himself be mildly crushed, and only then realizes that Cullen is right behind her.
“Evelyn! And Cullen! My, what a wonderful surprise! To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” Dorian asks, subtly putting his now wrinkled robes back in order.
“We were in the neighborhood,” Evelyn says in a way that immediately tells Dorian that she is either outright lying or, at the very least, finding something about it funny. Narrowing his eyes at her briefly, Dorian instead turns to Cullen, offering a warm handshake.
“Well. Whatever you were doing, it agrees with you,” Dorian says, clutching Cullen’s hand in both of his own. “You’re both positively radiant!”
“Married life agrees with us,” Cullen says, almost bashfully, and sends his usual heart eyes towards Evelyn. Some things never change.
“It does!” Evelyn says. “But, before you ask, no pitter patter of little feet. Just the dog.”
“As if you don’t spoil that mutt easily as much as your first born son.”
“Hey, don’t you call my furry child names,” Cullen says, pulling Evelyn up against his side with a smile. “He’s family.”
“Not that we aren’t working on expanding the family, mind you,” Evelyn adds, and her smile becomes a wicked grin. “Though we’re mostly in the practice stage right now. Lots and lots of practice.”
“Evvie, please,” Cullen begs, and Dorian laughs more than he has in weeks.
“Ah, the joy of being among friends again.”
“I take it there aren’t many of those here?” Evelyn asks in her usual straightforward way, and Dorian shrugs.
“This kind of life doesn’t lend itself well to friendships. Everyone has an agenda.”
Cullen snorts. “So do you.”
“But mine is for the greater good! Not personal gain! Well. Not entirely, anyway.”
“Clearly. You’ll have to pay for all the little trinkets you send my brother somehow.”
The mention of his beloved makes Dorian’s gut clench. It’s been so long. They talk a few times a week through their sending stones, but it’s just not enough. It soothes the ache just enough for them both to carry on, but the distance is a constant background agony.
“Ah. So he’s been… telling you about them?” he says, attempting and utterly failing in his attempt at sounding like he isn’t dying for every tiny scrap of information about his amatus.
“Nah, I snooped. I gotta say, that ankle chain looked expensive as hell.”
“It was! I had it specially made! Thirty sovereigns! Worth every single one, exquisite work.”
“... I knew it.”
Dorian’s entire body tenses at the new voice from the door. He can’t dare believe he just heard what he thinks he did. Cedar is a tenday’s travel away. They talked only two days ago, and he said nothing about being nearby.
Afraid of seeing nothing there, Dorian takes a shaky step sideways to see around Evelyn and Cullen who are both grinning now, and, miracle of miracles, there in the open door is the one person Dorian always wants to see more than anyone else.
He’s frozen to the spot, staring, taking in the marvel happening in front of him, and also terrified. He wants to teleport the five or so steps to the door to get there faster, but he can’t. Not here. Not with an open door.
“You are in so much trouble,” Cedar says, and closes the door firmly behind him with a cheeky grin of his own. “You told me it was just a cheap trinket from the market.”
At any other time Dorian would be the first to engage with the banter and start defending his position and have a jolly old time with his beloved and his friends.
But it’s been so long and the door is closed and he’s among only friends.
“Amatus,” he breathes out, and stumbles slightly in his rush to run into Cedar’s arms, locking him in an embrace with as much force as he possibly can. “You’re here!” he babbles between desperate kisses. “How are you here?!”
“My dear sister and I conspired,” Cedar says, his grin softening to a loving smile which he proceeds to press against Dorian’s quivering lips again and again. “Surprise, dearest?”
“Consider me thoroughly surprised,” Dorian manages with a weak smile, and forces himself to unlock his arms so he can reach up and cradle Cedar’s dear, dear face. “You said nothing.”
Cedar huffs an amused breath, and lays his hand on top of one of Dorian’s on his cheek. “That’s what makes it a surprise.”
“True,” Dorian says, only then remembering they’re not alone in the room. “Sorry, I, uh. Can I offer you-”
Evelyn laughs and pats him slightly too hard on the shoulder. “I know where the guest rooms are. I could use a rest. Of my ears. Far away from my dear brother.”
“And I think I’ll admire the craftmanship of this lovely door,” Cullen says with a barely suppressed grin. “From the outside. And if anyone comes near, I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to answer all of my many, many questions about Tevinter carpentry,” he says, and actually winks. Clearly being married to Evelyn has done awful, terrible things to his temperament, and Dorian will definitely poke at that later.
But right now, the door is closing behind Evelyn and Cullen, Cedar is reaching out to slide the latch closed to lock it, and suddenly he’s alone with his beloved. Alone, with a locked and guarded door between them and anyone who could witness their love and use it against them.
“So,” Cedar says, lounging against the door, looking all kinds of glorious. “Whatever shall we do with all this time and privacy?”
It turns out Dorian doesn’t actually care about wrinkling his robes when it’s for the right reasons.
End.