"Fenris!"
She put every ounce of command she could into that one word when authority was quite possibly the last thing she felt at the sight of the marked elf, sword rising and tattoos beginning to glow with his own particular brand of battle rage. It must have worked because the slave paused just enough that she was able to plead for her life, ironically enough in the same hardened tone.
"Danarius is dead! For whom are you fighting?"
It worked. Swallowing a sigh of relief she watched him freeze, his grim rage faltering as his eyes ticked from her to the prone form of his master and a myriad of things flash across his usually inscrutable face, all far too fast for her to read. At the realization her words are indeed true, proofed by the slow trickle of blood that was beginning to pool next to where the man lay on his gaudy, expensive rug and the lifeless stare of the Magister's eyes, his face went amazingly blank. Dropping his enormous longsword to the floor with a clatter that made her wince, he fell to his knees and curled into a position of prone acquiescence with his forehead almost touching the floor. This reaction unnerved her as much as his raised sword but the lyrium under his skin still flared albeit much duller than before, giving away that Danarius's bodyguard was far from calm. Her time in Danarius's household had taught her one thing - this particular slave was not entirely tame. But Danarius had seemed to enjoy it that way. Proof of that was the solid and heavy golden collar that encircled the long almost delicate throat of the elf, held there with blood magic and ready to accept any manner of chain that Danarius decided appropriate.
Sighing she regarded the prone elf, her own inner thoughts chaotic. In a sane world she would turn and leave by the quietest route open to her, her task here was completed the moment Danarius's heart had stopped beating. But if her time in Kirkwall had done nothing else it had instilled in her a cynical belief that the Maker had a very sick sense of humor and that this was far from a sane world.
In truth part of her wanted nothing more than to be done with this, to flee to the rainforests of Seheron to the comfort and companionship of the Fog Warriors and wash the corruption of this place off her. But that same base vice she had witnessed caused her to pause over the prone form of this one slave. She knew only too well what would be in store for him. His lyrium markings made him far too valuable to destroy but his inability to protect Danarius when it most counted would brand him further still though those marks wouldn't be visible. And knowing exactly who was set to inherit Danarius's vast wealth should she prove capable of holding it when the inevitable infighting began, she also knew that this man's life would know even more misery than he had under Danarius's hand. She would thank him for his failure but it wouldn't stop her from making him pay for it.
Doing the math in her head she realized that she had been here in capital city of Tevinter for almost a year now while waiting for the perfect time to complete her commission. The job of secretary that had been secured for her gave her access, but Fenris was a complication that had prolonged this little charade. Her friends had thought her suicidal for doing it and maybe in a way they were right. After everything that had happened maybe she had wanted to die somewhere down deep in her darkest places. But after all that time she had come to grudgingly respect this odd slave and bodyguard of Danarius's. For all the cruelty she had witnessed directed at him he had gone about his own commission to protect the life of his master with grim determination and his vigilance had not made this moment easy to achieve. She had thought at the beginning to bribe him with his freedom but it had not taken her long to realize that this would not work bound as he was to Danarius. She hated to admit it, hated that she felt compelled to pause and consider the fate of this man, but something deep inside her forced her to do it all the same.
Sighing loudly this time, she stepped forward and commanded quietly, "Stand." Maddeningly he did not but she did see a tremor run the length of his spine at the sound of her voice. Anger started to boil in the pit of her stomach, a reaction she knew to the stress of the whole situation more than with him but she used it, putting it into her voice when she repeated, "Fenris, I told you to stand. Do not push my patience."
That worked. Slowly he unfolded, standing before her with that oddly blank look to his face and eyes that she didn't trust with his brands still glowing dully. He was refusing to look at her, eyes cast downward and to the side, looking she knew at Danarius. Cocking her head she studied him, her eyes taking in the lines, angles and curves of his face before falling to the collar that she knew had held him to his master's whim, never allowing him to wander too far. Sniffing thoughtfully she looked at it closely, seeing markings engraved into the gold as she circled him studying the blood magic that held the solid metal together. 'Ah-ha, gotcha,' she thought smiling to herself before she shot a hard look at the white haired elf.
"Do not move; do not breathe unless I tell you to."
Waiting until he nodded, his throat working wordlessly, she turned her eye back to the collar as she pulled a small dagger out of a sheath hidden under the loose robes that marked mages in Tevinter, her mind already turned to the task before her.
Fenris flinched slightly at the sight of the weapon but did not move further, instead watching carefully the woman who was now ignoring him as she studied the hated collar around his neck. He was a slave and she a mage, he knew that his life was her's to do with as she should so choose. Looking down at the top of her head as she leaned in to look closer at the collar he dully wondered what she was about. When she loosed a victorious and satisfied sound he was so unprepared that he involuntarily jerked back from her. That was when he saw the blood on her hand where she had deliberately cut her palm, that was when he felt the crispness of magic as it made his lyrium burn and itch and most importantly that was when he heard the sharp crack that had him flinching back yet again. He stared blankly at the collar as it lay against the black marble tile, once again whole and gleaming with its own malicious intent before turning his eyes back on the woman that had freed him of it. She was busy shedding her purple robe, revealing she wore reinforced leather armor and breeches beneath and taking the knife to the hem to cut a temporary bandage from it.
Trying to appear unconcerned about the slave's reaction when nothing could be farther from the truth with his markings now glowing bright silvery blue after his start, she wrapped the cloth she had freed from the robe around her hand several times before tucking the end in and replacing the blade in a hidden sheath on her vambrace. She could have easily healed herself but didn't see the point. Out of the corner of her eye she watched carefully as Fenris froze in place, nothing moving but his eyes as he tried to take in the kindness that she had done. Once again calling on her reserves of authority though it felt wrong to be commanding this man she casually and without looking at him ordered, "I want you to gather whatever it is you wish to take with you. Do it fast because we must be well gone from here before what I have done is discovered." When he stood still frozen and trying to comprehend she let the anger that had been festering in the pit of her stomach loose on him again, snarling haughtily, "I said move dammit!"
When he still didn't move she began to reconsider her hasty plan but before she could say anything else his head dropped and in a low voice replied, "I am a slave, I have nothing."
Shaking her head she bent to retrieve his forgotten sword, marveling at how Maker-Be-Damned heavy it was and thrust it at him.
"I didn't say what belonged to you I said whatever you wish to take. Some things don't count where they came from, it's the use you put them to that matters." She paused to look at him a moment before throwing an exasperated look at the still glowing markings. "And Maker's breath will you control yourself? How do you expect to get past the guards glowing like firefly?"
Fenris did not know what a 'firefly' was, nor did he take the sword, instead looking at this woman through the curtain of his bangs and refusing to acknowledge the dim light of hope that that flared in his chest. "You intend to take me? Why? I failed."
Cocking her head at him she suddenly understood. He was expecting her to kill him; maybe even wishing for it for all that she could read of his expressions. Snorting derisively she once again pushed the sword at him, "You didn't fail you were bested. There is a difference and there is no shame in it." Noticing that the muscles in her arm were beginning to tremble under the weight of the weapon she snapped, "Take this thing before one of us ends up losing a toe."
Reflexively he took the weapon but otherwise did not move, still regarding her through his hair and trying to decide what to do. His master, no his world hated as they both were lay dead, his own life and the lives of all Danarius's slaves were now forfeit. It was not unusual for the slaves to all be killed whenever there was a change in power. His own fate he knew would not be the sword unless this woman did it. No death would be a relief. Danarius had no family so his fortunes would fall to his one apprentice and Fenris had no doubt that under her kind touches he would wish that this woman had killed him. As if reading his own thoughts the woman sighed impatiently with him.
"Do I need remind you who will be your new Mistress if you remain?"
With a quick shake of his scruffy head he turned and disappeared through a door she knew lead to what was laughingly considered his room. A closet really that barely held a chest and a rough nest of hay and threadbare blankets that he slept on. Glancing after him, satisfied that he was finally doing as he was told she went to the door, pushing it open enough to reassure herself that no one outside Danarius's chambers had heard anything and to retrieve a satchel she had stowed behind one of the huge old god statues that flanked the doors. Back inside she pulled a fine example of the long flowing cloaks that were preferred by the Magisters of the Imperium out of the pack and tossed it unceremoniously across a high-backed chair. Turning from that to one of the huge wardrobes that lined one wall of the room she yanked it open and began hunting for something similar to hide the elf. Several minutes and several wardrobes later she found one that would work and turned to see Fenris watching as she pilfered Danarius's things. Blinking furiously as she took him in, she was truly amazed at the change.
Fenris regarded her a moment before explaining in a quiet, neutral voice, "The armor Danarius had made for me when we went to Seheron to fight. He wanted nothing untoward to happen to his favorite… pet."
Noting the tinge of bitterness that sneaked into that last word as she strode to him and inspecting the black and form fitting armor with a jaundiced eye, she had to admit it suited him better than the tunics that he wore while in the household. He seemed taller, back straight under the weight of the armor. Looking up she was surprised to see him staring back, finally willing to meet her eye directly and blinked at the tinge of defiance she saw there at her inspection. Cocking her head she couldn't help but feel just a little triumphant that she had finally gotten even that much out of this inscrutable elf. Twisting her mouth wryly she turned to grab the cloak and toss it at him.
"Well you now qualify as the best dressed 'pet' I've ever seen then. Wish that my armor was as nice."
Fenris's eyebrow rose silently as he inspected her own armor, seeing nothing wrong with it except that it was far too light which was not at all to his liking but kept his thoughts to himself as he shrugged into the cloak she had unceremoniously thrown at him. She was busy pilfering through the rest of Danarius's things, looking for any small valuables that could be sold and ignoring him completely. Glancing down at the clawed gauntlets now covering his hands he lost himself in thought, contemplating this entire situation. Not that Danarius was dead as much as her actions since. He had no frame of reference for what was happening and her motives had been a mystery to him until it occurred to him as he worked to calm his inner turmoil and don the expensive and showy armor that undoubtedly her motives were profit. He was no fool, his markings made him valuable. He had seen the envy in the eyes of the Magisters that came to attend to their connections with Danarius, a powerful man in the senate. Although the thought of being sold to who knows who caused a knot in the pit of his stomach, the sure knowledge that he had worked out the motives of this woman had soothed the boiling emotions and calmed the lyrium under his skin.
"Ready?"
Snapping out of his reverie Fenris nodded once and pulled his hood over his head, hiding more than his pointed ears and white hair in the shadows thrown over his face, it also hid the lingering resentment he felt at knowing he had no choice.
