Night crept in, coating the Tevinter capital of Minrathous with the deep cloak of night. Scattered across the city, tall spires—the homes of the powerful Magisters—loomed over the humble houses, and in the exact center of the city was the tallest tower, the Argent Spire, where the highest rank among the Magisters—the Archon—resided. The smaller towers were carved of dark obsidian, emblazoned with their respective Magisters' personal insignias on both pennants and the front door. Intricate veins of lyrium, making a sort of skeletal tree, was carved into the front door of the Magister Danarius. He was one of the most well-respected mages in Minrathous, along with one of the most powerful. He was a fairly attractive middle-aged man, his neat, dark hair starting to show the signs of graying, his face strong and lean and sporting a thick beard. He always carried himself with an air of superiority that he felt was well-earned.
Chains clashed and rang as the Magister descended the spiraling staircase to the cellar of his spire. His apprentice—a blue-robed girl of about fifteen—followed obediently behind him, slightly fearful of the raucous clamor of metal on stone. A man's furious roar made her jump and reflexively cling to the back of her teacher's long blue-and-white robe, and he chuckled softly.
"Relax. It's only an elf. Hardly a danger at all."
"But your experiments... Haven't they made him... Well, stronger?"
"Yes, but he is not someone a mage with any small amount of talent could not manage." Another roar, and the man yanked on his bonds even harder as the mages entered his line of sight.
"YOU!" he lunged at Danarius, reaching the end of his tether, and snapped back, staggering and falling against the wall. Danarius chuckled again.
The elf was chained to the wall by his waist, a second strand of heavy steel links traveling up the center of his chest clasped to the iron bar that rested across his shoulders. The bar bound his wrists and encircled his neck, forming a sort of martingale that kept his spine bent forward and his head down. Branded tattoos of glowing, blue lyrium twined across his skin much like the symbol on Danarius' door. He glared defiantly at the Magister through his silver hair.
"Hello. How are you this evening?"
"To hell with you, mage."
"That's not very nice, is it Hadriana?" the girl was still cowering behind Danarius. "How do you feel?"
"Terrible. What have you done to me?" the elf snarled.
"I just added a little lyrium to your skin. I've never been successful in branding it on anyone before now. Does it hurt?" the elf simply glared, as if the answer should be obvious.
"Why did you do this?"
"I want you as my personal slave. My bodyguard. I've seen how you handle a sword, and a man of my importance needs a little extra protection. Tell me, do you remember who you are?"
"No."
"Not even your name?" Danarius' tone had a sickly sweet, condescending quality to it that made the elf want to wring his privileged neck.
"I said I remember nothing. What part of that is so hard to understand?"
"Don't speak to him that way! You're a slave! Show some respect!" Hadriana finally found her voice, stepping forward to blurt her indignant retort. The elf lunged at her, snarling, his tattoos glowing in his anger, and she yelped and stepped back. Danarius smiled, amused.
"It's all right, Hadriana. I will break him soon enough. I like him feisty, like an untamed wolf..." he smiled a little more, "Perhaps Fenris is a suitable name for you, my little wolf. What do you think of that?"
"I am not your pet!" Danarius simply smiled, which infuriated him more.
"I think that's enough for today. Brace yourself, Fenris. Your training starts tomorrow, and you will not like it. Come, Hadriana." He gestured to the girl, and the pair exited the room.
"GET BACK HERE AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN, DANARIUS! I WILL NEVER SUBMIT TO YOU!" Hadriana drew close to her teacher as the left the elf to scream and rage alone.