He had just finished his brutal training as Danarius' bodyguard the first time he saw her. He was standing stoic and watchful, the perfect slave, at his master's side at one of his many hedonistic evenings. She only stood out from the other dancers (body slaves) by the quality of her clothing-it was clean and impeccable, standing out starkly from the shabby clothing the other slaves wore. When the song came to a close, Danarius clapped his hands twice and she strode over to where he sat, hips swaying.
Fenris gave her only a cursory glance when his master introduced her. Some Fereldan mageling his master had acquired as a body slave; the most valuable piece of property besides Fenris himself, his master said. The master took great pleasure in animal names, apparently, calling the new slave his hawk as she danced and spun for the master's pleasure.
"Isn't she beautiful, Fenris?" the master asked him. Fenris only nodded, knowing Master didn't really want his opinion. Master was too busy watching her swaying hips to notice, anyway.
Fenris knew the hawk was a near-permanent fixture in the master's bedchambers; it wasn't as though his master was discrete with his pleasures, and it was Fenris' duty to see to his master's safety at all times. Unfortunately. Still, Fenris never really looked at her. Not until the second (in terms of really seeing) time he saw her.
He was granted (blessedly granted) time to bathe in the chambers set aside for the master's favorite slaves. He paid the others no mind, letting the streaming water wash away his filth and sweat in this sweet moment away from his master's (unwanted, disgusting) touch. Perhaps he was complacent in this brief moment of relative solitude, for he paid no mind to the raven-haired figure waltzing towards him-at least not until he felt the sting of a slap upon his face.
His markings flared to life almost without thought, but the woman in front of him did not back down. He forced himself to calm when he recognized her, the hawk looking every inch her namesake.
"So," she said with false charm, looking at him from under her lashes with practiced seduction, "I hear you're our master's favorite new fuck-toy."
Fenris did not know how to respond. The master often took pleasure in Fenris' body, true, but it was not as though Fenris welcomedthe attention. She stepped closer to him, water trailing in rivulets down her naked form.
"Listen closely, elf," she said, dropping the facade of charm. "My position is only held because I'm Master's favorite, and I won't have some little upstart taking that from me. Understand?" He nodded, confused. "Good." She smiled again before turning on her heal and walking out of the bathing room, practically oozing sensuality the whole way. This hawk was a strange one, of that Fenris had no doubt.