SHACKLE BOUND

Hawke tampers with Merrill's eluvian one day and is magically transported to the past, much to her horror and confusion, and ends up in Danarius' mansion with a still-enslaved Fenris. What happens when she is forced into apprenticeship by Danarius? AU.

Rated: M for disturbing content.

Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort

Fenris x Hawke

Welcome back! I was really pleased with the feedback I got for the previous chapter so here's another (: Thank you for the reviews!

Enjoy!

"Words."

'Thoughts, dreams, memories, emphasis, etc.'

"It appears that your friend has been teleported."

Marethari's words shocked everyone in the room. Anders, Merrill, Fenris, Aveline, Isabela and Varric all crowded around the elderly Keeper, creating a half-circle around the tarnished eluvian. Merrill had gone out and retrieved all of Hawke's companions, getting all the help she could get.

"Teleported? How, Keeper? The mirror's still unfinished! It can't be used!" argued Merrill, confused. Marethari shook her head.

"You must understand child, that the mirror is in a very fragile state when being repaired. Like many other eluvians, this one may have been magically connected long ago with another eluvian elsewhere in the world, and now that this eluvian is broken, that connection has been severed. Lady Hawke must have done something to provoke the severed teleportation. We shall need to find out for ourselves where she may have ended up," Marethari explained.

Aveline's palm hit her forehead exasperatedly, whispering under her breath," Maker, Hawke what have you gotten yourself into this time…"

Anders frowned," I think we should be more concerned with getting her back, shouldn't we? To the hells with where she ended up, what happened to the portal?"

"It disappeared, see?" said Merrill, pointing the non-existent reflective side of the mirror.

"So then how do we make it appear again?" asked Varric.

"We ourselves cannot. Lady Hawke herself must provoke the portal again as only she has access to it. We can only hope that the mirror she has access to is fully functional."

"Oohh," squealed Isabela delightfully," just imagine where she could've ended up! I bet she's somewhere in the middle of a palace right now surrounded by strong, handsome servants, the lucky little…"

"What?" cried Anders," You mean, we can't do anything about getting her back?"

"I never said that, young man," said Marethari calmly," I said that we can't make the portal appear. We can, however, still communicate with Lady Hawke, should she happen upon the mirror again. What we must do, however, is first allow Merrill to repair the remainder of the mirror, and then see if we can spark up the connection once more. For that, however, we shall need to read up on how the connection was created for teleportation in the first place."

At this, Merrill made a small "oh!" and sprung up, skipping over to her desk, where a number of dusty tomes and books lay. She gathered what she could in her arms and brought them over to her group members, who were watching her curiously. Grinning, she dumped them at their feet, and Marethari frowned slightly at her carelessness.

"Careful, child. Do not ruin the knowledge we have left of our past." Merrill nodded sheepishly and muttered an apology under her breath.

Everyone bent down to inspect the books. Tomes such as 'Mirror, Mirror On The Wall: A History of Magical Teleportation Devices', 'Eluvians and Their Uses', 'Ancient Arlathan Artifacts', 'Tevinter Tools and Their Usage in Modern History', and 'Portals and the Darkspawn Taint' lay on the floor. Anders crouched down to pick a promising-looking tome, and sat down in a large armchair to flip through. Everyone but Isabela and Fenris, who is unable to read, followed suit.

"Why would poring over these dusty fairytales help us get her back?" asked Isabela, scrunching up her nose and picking up one of the books," we'd be better off banging the mirror and hoping she'd hear us."

"Isabela…" began Merrill.

"Come on, sweet thing, she's a tough girl. I really doubt she's in a load of trouble. Shouldn't we just wait until she gets back on her own? How do you know she's not having a good time?" argued Isabela.

"That is a broad estimation, young woman. Lady Hawke could be anywhere in the world, and even anywhere in history," said Marethari.

"Do you mean to say that Hawke could have been transported to the past?" asked Fenris skeptically.

"Indeed she could. That is why we must find out for ourselves," said Marethari.

"Well I can't stay here all day, I need to get back to the barracks," said Aveline, taking 'Tevinter Tools and Their Usage in Modern History' in her arms and getting up," I'll take one of these and come back tomorrow and tell you what I've found."

"I can't hang around here either," said Isabela," I need to head back to The Hanged Man. Business, y'know? But… I suppose I'll take a look at one of these…" With that, she picked up 'Portals and the Darkspawn Taint' and headed out the front door.

"Alright," said Merrill," I'm going to start fixing the mirror but I need someone to guard the eluvian while I'm fixing it."

"I shall do it," said Fenris, who had been silent throughout most of the entire meeting. He took his place by the side of the eluvian. Despite his apparent dislike for the blood mage, he was ready to help Hawke in any way, even if he could not read. He watched everyone go their separate ways, with Varric and Anders staying at Merrill's house and everyone else leaving, books in hand. Anders grinned at him superiorly across the room as he began leafing through the book 'Magical Properties of Teleportation Tools'. Fenris simply sneered back and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes, knowing that it's to be a long day.

It soon became very apparent to Hawke that she was being followed.

The night shone in through the windows, illuminating the darkened hallways and corridors. Hawke paused to catch her breath behind a wall, and listened silently for any signs of life. She knew that Danarius himself was too cowardly to fight her one on one, so he likely had sent a skeleton warrior or something after her, and she braced herself with her hands up in defense, a powerful spell in mind.

'Give me your best shot,' thought Hawke tauntingly.

She began to hear breathing get heavier and heavier as the stalker approached. Hawke held her own breath and recited the spell incantation in her mind. She would show Danarius that she was stronger than she looked.

Soft, careful footsteps became audible, and Hawke straightened up, hands in the air.

Swiftly, she turned around and muttered her strongest fire spell, her hands concocting the spell to be thrown at her follower. A massive fireball began to brew in Hawke's hands, as she released it in the direction of her enemy, gasping heavily in exertion.

"Take that!" she cried, listening for the 'boom' of the impact of the fireball. A few seconds later, she heard a loud crashing sound and smiled in satisfaction. Soon after, a flame began to form in the middle of the room, consuming all of the expensive furniture and eating away at the curtains. A loud, throaty groan sounded within the room as the targeted man, and Hawke spotted a heap on the ground in the midst of the flames. She stood back and shielded herself from the fire, waiting for the spell to wear out and for the flames to disappear.

A world of agony surrounded him.

All he remembered was a sphere of fire blown his way, knocking the wind out of him. He flipped and turned in pain, feeling the fire scorch his senses and choke the life out of him. He tried to open his eyes, but all he saw was embers, nibbling away at the furniture in the lavish guestroom. He groaned loudly when the fire kissed his already injured areas, inflicted by Danarius or Hadriana. Leto's hands threw up, throwing the embers out of his face, trying to see past the blazing agony and scalding pain.

After a few moments, the spell wore off, vanishing the fire in the room, and Leto lay in a fetal position on the floor, unconscious.

Hawke approached the figure lying on the ground after the flames died, triumphant smile sitting on her face.

'I got you now...'

She crouched down, inspecting her enemy. As she turned the figure's face, her smile dropped.

Jet black was strewn all over his face messily, ruined by the impact of the fireball. Elven features decorated his face accompanied by the olive skin she knew so well. His eyes were closed, and he was struggling to breath. Burns and scorch marks lined his skin, mostly on his arms, and his clothes were rags strewn across his body, eaten by the flames. His face was younger than she remembered, free of lines on his forehead and eyes, looking like a young man just entering his mid-twenties.

Hawke gasped audibly in shock. Was it really him?

He gasped and choked, holding on dearly to what little life was left in him. His eyes flashed open for a split second, and Hawke felt her heart drop.

Forest green.

"Fenris?"

Tears welled up in her eyes as she choked out an apology, her hands scrambling for a healing spell. The incantation was muddled in her brain, mixed with confusion and sorrow, but she managed to blurt out the spell clumsily and pressed her hands to his burnt chest, feeling the soothing waves flow from her hands into his body. The burn marks lifted somewhat, removing the numbing pain away from his body, leaving only scars across his arms and face. Afterwards, Hawke's hands shakily reached into her pack, searching urgently for a healing potion, seeing that her spell wasn't enough to heal him fully. Her hand shuffled past the keys and mana potions in her pack. Finally locating the small vial, she withdrew it and gently pulled his mouth ajar, pouring the liquid down his throat, keeping his head up with her other hand. He choked and sputtered on the unfamiliar liquid.

Hawke held his head guiltily as she watched him take in the liquid, silently beating herself over the head for her impulsiveness, but not before a considerable amount of questions popped up in her head.

He felt someone lift his head up gently, and a cold, funny liquid run into his opened mouth. He coughed, but soon relaxed and allowed it into his system. It tasted odd, but pleasant. He couldn't remember the last time he had a proper drink. The watery solution ran down his throat, hydrating his parched mouth. It left as soon as it came, and Leto groaned mentally, begging for more. His breathing steadied and he soon leaned back in the stranger's arms, suddenly realizing that the searing pain he'd felt only seconds ago was gone, like dust wiped away with a cloth.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, looking upwards. Sorrowful blue eyes greeted his, and he sat up suddenly, backing away from the stranger.

Her heart rose with joy once she saw Fenris open his eyes, forest green boring holes into her own with an odd expression on his face.

"Fenris!" she cried, latching her arms around his frail body," You're awake!"

He did not respond, instead sitting blankly, dazed.

'Who is this woman...?' thought Leto, confused. He backed away slightly, analyzing the young woman with calculating, alert eyes; the very same ones that she remembered.

She looked rather short and scruffy, he observed, with messy black hair and curious blue eyes. There was hardly anything intimidating or powerful about her, in fact she looked like one of the many everyday country women that he often encountered while on missions alongside Danarius. That, however, was when he noticed her robes.

Mage.

Leto's eyes narrowed slightly as he stared down the young woman suspiciously.

"Fenris?" said Hawke after he pulled back from her embrace. She looked him in the eyes, and that was when she noticed that he had no lyrium markings. Her blue orbs widened as she traced his chin where his lyrium markings would have been. He flinched apprehensively, watching her carefully, calculating her every move. He did not appear to recognize her.

"Who are you, and how do you know my name?" he asked cautiously. His voice was a tone lighter than how Hawke remembered it to be.

"I…I'm Hawke, remember? We're friends. In Kirkwall. I somehow got here through Merrill's mirror while I was at her house and now I'm here in Danarius' mansion. I don't know why you're here. Why do you have black hair, and where'd your lyrium markings go?" asked Hawke, her hands touching his soft black hair.

Leto sat, listening to her list all these unfamiliar names, of which he only recognized 'Danarius', until she mentioned his lyrium markings, to which he furrowed his eyebrows. How did she know about that?

"How do you know that I am to receive lyrium markings?" asked Leto with suspicion.

Before Hawke could answer, the two heard loud clapping at the doorway of the guest room. Their heads turned towards the sound, where Danarius stood, standing proudly and clapping his hands.

"Well now, I could never had imagined that wolves and kittens could get along so well. It seems you've taken a liking to my little Fenris, haven't you," he said, his voice as silky smooth as ever. He approached the two, ceasing clapping.

"Fenris, I was quite sure I specifically instructed you to bring her back to me, not converse with the target, silly lad," he said, smiling sarcastically. Leto hung his head, awaiting punishment while Danarius turned to Hawke.

"As for you, kitten, I'm quite impressed. You've successfully nearly killed my bodyguard and then healed him back to health, clearly with skill. Quite a moody little thing, aren't you?" he asked Hawke, chuckling.

"Touch either me or him and you'll know just how moody I can really be," growled Hawke promisingly. Leto looked at her strangely.

'A mage? Protecting me? The world never ceases to amaze me...'

"Tsk tsk, feisty feisty. As much as I enjoy your games, I do think you need to learn a few manners, kitten. You would do well to learn to bow to your superiors," cackled Danarius, as he came close to Hawke and bent down, looking her in the eyes, smiling cruelly. He outstretched his hand, and then brought it harshly across her face, knocking her unconscious.

"It says here that some eluvians were created in pairs, so that one can travel between the location of one to another instantly," read Anders, his eyes fixated on the book he was holding," when one eluvian is destroyed, however, the other, undestroyed eluvian will have a disrupted teleportation process, and may lead the person going through the mirror back in time to the other mirror at a time when it was still fully functional."

Merrill and Varric stared at him blankly.

Anders sighed," It means that the other mirror that yours was connected with might have been destroyed long ago, so Hawke was sent back in time because it was destroyed in the past."

Merrill nodded understandingly and Varric let out a low," ohhh…"

Anders continued to read studiously, determined to find the answer to why Hawke was gone. They had been sitting like that for over four hours while Merrill worked restlessly on fixing the frame of the mirror, waiting for the other two to come up with an answer. Varric read along with Anders, both sitting on cushions on the floor, with Varric taking a more leisurely approach to reading than Anders. Fenris sat by the eluvian, with his great sword on his lap, alert for anything that could possibly emerge from the eluvian. It was then when he began to notice Merrill looking at him strangely.

"What?" asked Fenris, annoyed.

"Fenris, when did you get those burn marks?" she asked, putting down the arulin'holm and pointing to his face. Fenris ran a hand down his face, confused. Varric put down his book and crawled close to Fenris, inspecting him.

"Yeah, Elf, when did you get those marks? You sure as hell didn't have 'em before," commented Varric.

"I have many scars. I do not see why this is of importance to both of you," snarled Fenris, his hand still on his face.

"You might want to take that back, Broody. Take a look in the mirror," said Varric. Merrill walked over to a pile of clothes and from underneath, she pulled out a small mirror. Wordlessly, she handed it to him, while Fenris looked himself over, his eyes widening.

Dark brown burn scars marred his olive skin, among the many other battle scars that already were on his face. Fenris frowned and brushed his fingers against the burn marks tentatively. As he lifted his hand up, he noticed numerous more unfamiliar scorch marks lining his hand and arm.

'I do not remember these…' thought Fenris.

Merrill and Varric watched him frown to himself, then looked to each other, exchanging skeptical glances.

'What's going on…?'

"Wakey wakey, kitten," a snake-like voice interrupted Hawke's pleasant dreams. She scrunched up her face, disappointed at the rude interruption, and blinked her eyes open, finding herself lying down, staring up straight into Danarius' face. Immediately, her mouth opened to yell at him.

"Not so fast, little one. I've made quick work of that loud, ear-splitting voice of yours," said Danarius, smirking," I did say that I would teach you some manners, did I not?"

Hawke's eyes widened as she tried to say something, anything. She attempted to force her voice out, but no sound came out, save for the quiet whoosh of air with which she inhaled. It was as if her vocal chords have been completely torn out and discarded. She glared up at Danarius with all the hate she could manage. He only chuckled loudly at her vain efforts.

'You bastard! You son of a bitch!' she wanted to scream, but no sound came out of her mouth, no matter how hard she tried.

"Now now, kitten. Despite the fact that you've ruined my guest room, I have taken quite a liking to you. Your skills in magic are, no doubt, impressive. Clumsy, uncontrollable, but impressive. I believe if I tame the little tiger in you we can make you into a fine, submissive little sorceress. Therefore I am taking you under wing as my apprentice," explained Danarius, his smirk widening as he watched Hawke's expression unfold.

Hawke saw red. She was furious. This disgusting… fiend had taken away not only her voice, but also forced her into apprenticeship? Hawke's hands scrambled up to throw a fireball at him, but she soon found that she couldn't move them. Looking down, she saw that Danarius had bound her hands tightly. Danarius cackled, thoroughly amused.

"Oh little one, you are far too predictable! Do you even realize just how much? We shall have to take care of that soon as well."

"Since the guest room is in shambles, thanks to your work, that is where you shall be staying when you are not studying with me. You are to be locked in here, and given food and water twice a day. Free time is given to you one hour per day to roam at your will, but my slave shall be keeping close watch over you," explained Danarius. He then came up close to Hawke, his steely eyes gazing into Hawke's coldly.

"You are to behave yourself, kitten, around myself and around guests. If you do not, you shall be sent to the dungeons. Not a very nice place for a defenseless kitten. Understand?" he said threateningly. Hawke had no choice but to nod grudgingly.

"Good girl. Now, I know you've already gotten acquaintanced with my slave, Fenris. Lovely lad, no? He has… the softest hair," commented Danarius, watching Hawke flinch delightfully from the tone of his voice.

"He shall be the one to bring you food and water every morning and evening. He has already been… taken care of for not fulfilling his previous task properly, but shall still come bring you dinner tonight. I shall also have him take you later for a tour of the mansion."

Hawke's rage bubbled up again, and she glared up at Danarius. How she wanted to hurt him, hurt him badly. Her teeth grinded as she attempted to restrain herself from throwing herself onto him. Danarius noticed this and smiled, pleased with himself.

"Now then, shall we go introduce you to my other promising apprentice? I'm sure the two of you shall get along simply fabulously. She, like you, is very enthusiastic," said Danarius fondly. Hawke did not respond. The magister then untied her hands, and she let out a breath of relief, massaging her hands gingerly. She looked down and realized that she had been stripped of her ragged robes and instead dressed in a flowy white gown, feeling her temper bubble up again when she realized that he himself probably took the pleasure of changing her. Her fists clenched tightly.

'I wonder how he'd like a taste of some good ol' Ferelden fists in his face,' thought Hawke sarcastically as she glared up at Danarius, who ignored her, instead taking Hawke's hand in his gently, who pulled away immediately in disgust, to which she earned a sharp slap. Tears sprang to Hawke's eyes from the stinging pain on her cheek, and she cradled it with one hand while Danarius took the other and led her out of the ruined guest room and into the main hallway with a blank expression on his face, as if nothing had happened.

After the pain in her cheek had subsided, Hawke looked out into the main hallway and her eyes widened with wonder. She had never had the time last evening to truly appreciate the beauty of the mansion. As she walked with Danarius, her eyes darted from wall to wall, taking in the breath-taking scenery. All around her, the color white was displayed. White marble floors, white stainless walls, white cushions, white fireplace, white tables, white chandeliers.

The main hallway was huge and rectangle-shaped, with the main doorway on one side of the room, and the grand staircase, also white, on the other. They walked, hand in hand (reluctantly on Hawke's part) to the staircase from one of the many elegant guest rooms adjacent to the grand staircase. Hawke saw numerous armchairs gathered around the fireplace, made of very expensive white leather, with beautiful orchids decorating the top of the fireplace. Above them, brilliant chandeliers decorated with countless of diamonds glistened in the light. Hawke could see her reflection from the pieces of glass that hung from the chandelier.

'How ironic, that such a gorgeous mansion could belong to such a cruel guy,' thought Hawke to herself observingly, admiring the chandeliers that hung above her black halo of hair.

Hawke looked to the front of her and saw a number of other doors, presumably leading to the kitchens and dining room. As they approached the grand staircase, Hawke strained her eyes to see a figure shuffling across the room. Leto limped across the main hallway, his hands shaking as he carried a platter filled with food over to one of the tables near the armchairs and fireplace. His raven hair covered his face, but Hawke noticed how his frail arms shook as he walked.

"Little Fenris!" called Danarius cheerfully. He looked up and stopped walking, staring at his master in the eye. Hawke's mouth hung ajar when she saw his face.

In addition to the burn marks from last night, he sported numerous cuts on his arms, including a large, open cut. He was breathing heavily, and his voice weakly responded with a "Yes master?" quickly making it clear to Hawke that he hadn't drunk or eaten in days. Her heart broke, and she longed to run to him and stuff him with the most delicious foods in the world. She knew however, that Danarius would quickly harm both him and her if she were to do that, so she refrained, making a mental note for herself to later pass him some food when he would visit her to bring her dinner.

"Straighten up, lad. I will not have you slumped like a shriek to our guests," said Danarius, scolding. The thin elf trembled as he attempted to hold his head higher, feeling pain shoot to his joints as he continued his way to the tables. Hawke stared at him in disbelief. Danarius smiled, satisfied and grasped Hawke's hand once more, leading her up the staircase, to where the master's and apprentice's bedrooms were.

Inside the apprentice bedroom, Hawke saw a tall, woman sit atop of a large bed, her backside facing Hawke. Danarius knocked on the door loudly.

"Hadriana! Come! You have a new classmate!" he called. The woman turned, her dark hair swaying as her icy blue eyes met with Hawke's. She was beautiful, a young twenty-something with high cheekbones and pouty red lips. She sized Hawke up, looking her over, then scowled jealously when she noticed their intertwined hands, but quickly plastered on a fake smile for the sake of her master.

"Is that so? How precious! Very pleasant to meet you, my name is Hadriana. To whom do I owe this pleasure?" asked the woman in a sugar-sweet voice. That was when Danarius piped up.

"Ah yes, we haven't even given you a name, have we, kitten? What do you believe, Hadriana?"

"Well, master, as you so tastefully call her, 'kitten', then why not allow her that as a name?" said Hadriana, batting her eyelashes flatteringly at Danarius. Hawke turned slightly, hiding the face of disgust she had on her face.

"Right you are, dear girl. Hear that, little one? Your name is now Kitten. Do be a good girl and respond to it, yes?" said Danarius, brushing the hair out of Hawke's eyes. She pulled away slightly, turning her face in the other direction.

"Well then Hadriana, how go your studies?" asked Danarius, ignoring Hawke. The young woman hopped up enthusiastically, skipping over to her bed, and showing the magister a small booklet with writing in it.

"I have finished all of the exercises in the chapter, front and back master!" piped Hadriana. It soon became very clear to Hawke that she was trying extremely hard to please Danarius.

"Good girl. I expect you to finish the book by nightfall, dear. Don't forget the chapter about summon spells," said Danarius, as he waved goodbye to the eager young apprentice and led Hawke back down the stairs, where he paused and let go of her hand.

"Kitten, my guests are to arrive in a matter of moments, and you are to go to your quarters. I shall have Fenris come to your door with your dinner and then take you on a tour of the mansion once you have finished eating and once the guests have left. Now then, off you go. I am watching you. Do not leave your room," said Danarius, the threatening undertones seeping from his words.

Hawke glared at him as she stalked off back to her scorched guest room. Once she was inside, she gave him once last, hateful glare at the doorway before slamming it shut, the sound echoing in the hallway. Danarius chuckled, and sat down in one of the armchairs, taking a branch of grapes from the platter that Fenris had placed on the table and helped himself.

Leto slumped onto the ground after he'd finished serving Danarius' guests in the kitchen, exhausted from the exertion, his muscles aching for a hot bath and some food. He managed to sneak an apple to eat when the chef or Danarius weren't looking, and felt somewhat rejuvenated. Now, all he wanted was to sleep. His mind quickly made a run through all of his duties in the day, checking off what he had done. He relaxed, satisfied when he realized that he'd done all his duties that day. His hand rubbed the wound on his arm accidentally, and he hissed, sucking in his breath from the shooting pain. Checking the wound from underneath his shirt, Leto swore when he found that the cut had opened up again. His mind traveled to how he got that cut in the first place.

After Danarius had knocked out the stranger last night, Leto was sent immediately to the torture chambers for punishment. He remembered it clearly, and in great detail.

'Little Fenris, I do recall telling you what I wanted from you tonight, have I not?' asked Danarius impatiently, circling the elf around the dungeon.

'…yes master…' said Leto weakly, feeling the handcuffs digging into his skin painfully. Danarius had specifically picked out handcuffs too small for his wrists, and smiled as he saw Leto's discomfort.

'You understand, that I asked for the girl to be brought back, knowing your skill. Instead, you were cut down so easily by one mage. A WOMAN, at that. What manner of nonsense is that?' said Danarius loudly, as he slapped Leto in the face. A loud clap echoed from the impact, and Leto shut his eyes tightly, anticipating the additional pain that was sure to come. A small pause ensued, before Danarius spoke once more.

'Now then. I want you to undress. Take off your top,' said Danarius slowly, watching Leto pull his top off compliantly. He placed the shirt in a heap beside him. Satisfied, Danarius nodded to the assortment of daggers hanging off the dungeon wall.

'Take the sharpest one.'

He did.

'Now drag it across your skin. Do so until I tell you to stop.'

Leto paused at this, bracing himself for the pain, looking at the tip of the small, razor-sharp dagger. It glared at him like a beacon. Closing his eyes, he took one last breath before he plunged the edge of the dagger across his arm. Shutting his eyes tightly from the pain, he felt the blood seep down his hand and onto the cold floor. Again and again, Leto brought his hand back up to slash his skin apart, howling painfully and grinding his teeth. Sweat poured down his forehead in small streams, while the blood poured from his chest and arms in copious amounts. He stopped abruptly, unable to will the strength back to his hand to bring it up again. His vision became blurry and he could scarcely recognize his surroundings. Leto swayed from side to side, feeling extremely lightheaded, and could barely hear his master's voice.

"That is enough. I hope you have learned your lesson well, little wolf."

Danarius turned around and exited the dungeons, leaving Leto a bloody heap on the ground, until he eventually passed out from blood loss.

Leto laughed bitterly at the irony of it all. His master nearly killed him for being nearly killed by the target. Leaning back against a counter, he allowed himself a few winks of rest as he closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling that he was done for the day, and had the entire night to himself to catch up on sleep. That is, if Hadriana let him.

Suddenly, his eyes opened wide nervously, as he remembered that he had yet to feed the stranger, who Danarius had specifically instructed him to feed at sunset. Briefly, he looked out the window, and saw that it was not yet sunset, and let out a breath of relief. Slowly, gathering his bearings, Leto went to the cabinet and pulled out a platter and began to collect food to give to the stranger.

His thoughts lingered on her. Who was she, and how did she know him? She seemed so happy to see him, a rarity that only happened when he saw his mother or sister. He supposed that he should ask her when he got the chance. She did not seem like she would hurt him for speaking out of turn.

Leto finished gathering the food on the platter, looking at it longingly. Stomach grumbling, he shuffled out of the kitchen, carrying the platter in his hands, towards the ruined guest room. Just one more task, and he would be free for the night.

Well, there you go (: hopefully you've enjoyed that last chapter!

Cheers! R&R!