"Free…" Varania breathed the forbidden word letting it roll off her tongue.
Slaves did not dare hope for freedom; it was a lingering thought at the back of the mind, resurfacing every once in a while before being quickly beaten into submission again until there was no trace of the thought; so as to avoid a harsher beating from their master.
That was the beauty of the system.
But they were free; there was no fear to cage her in. A vastness seemed to stretch out before her that had been previously limited by invisible chains of the mindset of slavery. She breathed in the feeling but felt it slip through her fingers as fine grained sand.
The excitement faded to a dull ache.
Leto… Her brother had bought their freedom at the cost of his own and his life.
Varania had never expected to see Leto again after he swore to the agreement of the competition. She had begged him not to do this; not to leave her but he had only reassured her with an almost nonexistent smile, a small quirk of his lips; a smile only for her that Varania understood. She had seen the sparkle of determination in his eyes as he promised them freedom.
She hadn't understood. Why would he waste his life in a hopeless fight to the death for something so far out of his reach?
Varania was left waiting in the dark. Leto had natural talent with the greatsword he carried, which was how he had earned a place in the guard, but it was not enough. The weeks to come felt like she was holding her breath constantly. Her thoughts were plagued by the image of Leto lying motionless, blood spilling from a wound. It set her heart fluttering in her chest not knowing.
The other slaves gave Varania and her mother a wide berth, and several younger girls took over her mother's tasks in the mansion several times. Varania was gratified for their thoughtfulness, especially towards her mother. She relied on the others to relay news to her when the carts passed carrying those who had fallen in the competition, for she didn't have the strength to see if her brother lay among them.
The papers she had received this morning had been proof of his survival and a thrill of joy had washed over her. It had meant she would see him again against her wildest dreams. Yet the world was cruel to play such a trick on her; to allow Varania to lay eyes on him but to see him stand adoringly at Danarius' side, no resentfulness, no resistance, Leto's identity stripped away… it was a spiteful joke indeed.
His appearance had been altered too. Thin, luminescent tattoos flowed silver across his skin, no, as part of his skin, in fluid graceful patterns. The fine markings started from his lower lip following the lines of his neck and collarbone. His arms also bore the strange yet beautiful lyrium tattoos and Varania suspected that beneath the armor he wore, they traveled the length of his body. She could just see where the markings ended, wrapping around his ankles where he wore no shoes.
Varania almost allowed herself to find his new appearance striking, but then she remembered.
The image burned in her mind. He was the lyrium warrior. He was Fenris.
He was not her brother.
Edeina was a strong willed woman and caring as she was stern to her children. It was dangerous to raise children into the world of slavery.
She had long dark hair pulled in a tight bun; high, soft cheek bones and deep grey eyes. Her appearance resembled little of her children's though they had the same facial structure. At one time it was plain to see she would have been a beautiful woman when the toll of years of slavery was yet to weigh upon her body and her age was not past her childbearing years.
Varania's mother met her with a weathered smile, but a smile all the same. Varania couldn't smile back. Instead she ran to her and let her mother's body fold around her, holding her. A tear trickled down her cheek wetting her lashes as more spilled freely now from her eyes.
Neither spoke for a time; she had no words to say. So they stood in a frozen embrace until her mother stirred. Her grey eyes dropped to Varania's hands, she held them turning her palms up.
"A girl your age should never have to bear the worn, beaten hands of a slave," her tone was soft, but tired. Varania kept her tongue stilled. They stayed like that until the grey light shown through the eastern windows.
"Now tell me what happened." She whispered when Varania's tears were dry leaving salty trails across her cheeks.
Varania drew the folded sheets of their freedom from within a pocket of her apron, watching the relief of a thousand worries spread across her mother's face. Her eyes smiled with too many emotions to speak as they glinted proudly. It killed Varania that the words she must tell her mother next would break her heart; they felt like lead on her tongue. She didn't hear her voice as she spoke.
And then it weighed on both of them that Leto was not going with them.
"Danarius will never allow Leto to go free and he made sure of that…" Varania's voice was barely auditable. "He's done something to sweep his memories. He didn't recognize me when I spoke to him…nothing, even his name..."
Varania could feel the anguish and sorrow that swept through her mother. Edeina pulled her close.
"I knew it in my heart when he left, but I didn't stop him…" she said softly. "He made his choice," Her voice faded into her grief. She closed her eyes.
Listening to the flow of words her mother spoke, Varania snapped out of her stupor. Gently she pulled away.
"We have to leave now, and be long gone from Danarius' estate for he will not provide or tolerate former slaves. We have no coin and must find shelter before nightfall." She found strength in the task at hand to keep her voice from shaking. Whether her mother heard she wasn't certain.
It was acknowledged by the rest of Danarius' slaves that they were free for none met their eyes or addressed them. It left a cold feeling in Varania's stomach as the people she had shared burdens with or talked quietly to at meals; severed the connections they once had shared.
