It was dark and cold in the cellar, a single candle the only source of light Fenris could see. The walls and floor were damp and the air was chilly, bringing goosebumps forth on Fenris' skin. His tunic was torn down the front and hanging loosely off his shoulders, whip marks slashed across his chest and dripping blood. His arms were above his head and blood dripped down them slowly, soaking his tunic and making the cold more apparent. The nails through his forearms burned constantly and his feet were sore from scraping on the rough wood stool. He'd been here for two days, and was weak, his head hanging, and it was hard to breathe with his arms up for so long. A whimper escaped him now and then. Sweat beaded and coursed down his forehead, dripping off the tip of his nose. The door squeaked, but Fenris didn't even flinch, feeling too weak to do even that.

Danarius picked up the candle as he walked by the table, bringing it to Fenris and casting light on the elf's face. He was cold and distant,

"How do you feel, Fenris?"

"Please... Take me down... I'll do whatever you want..." Danarius clucked his tongue,

"It doesn't work like that. I'm not taking you down until I'm satisfied with how you've been punished. I think I'll leave you here for one more night, just to drive my point home," he stroked Fenris' cheek.

"Please don't... I can't... Can't stand anymore... It hurts..." his voice cracked and he started to sob softly.

"Oh, don't cry, Fenris. I don't have time for your tears. If that's all you're going to do, then I am going to bed. Goodnight. I'll take you down tomorrow. Maybe." Danarius tuned to go. He paused with his hand on the door, and glanced back over his shoulder, a smirk pulling his lips. He turned back, and with a quick sweep of his foot he kicked the stool out from under Fenris. The elf's entire weight settled on the nails through his forearms and gasped and screamed, his eyes rolled back in pain as he flailed in shock, the movement making his pain worse. Danarius shivered visibly from enjoyment, and laughed aloud, turning away and slamming the door behind him.

For half the night, Fenris tried desperately to alleviate the pain by wrapping his legs around one of the posts but he could never quite get a secure grip with his knees, and slipping off only made the pain worse. It was impossible to relieve any of his discomfort. Perhaps Danarius was going to leave him here to die? He hadn't expected getting drunk would get him in so much trouble. He was getting colder by the minute, but the thought of dying right here didn't frighten him as much as it used to. It might not be so bad to just let go... It was better than dying by blood magic. He was bleeding so heavily, he was sure he wasn't only cold because of the cellar any more. And he was still sweating profusely, feeling weak. He closed his eyes. It would be easy, to just let go.

He woke, sputtering and coughing as something warm was poured down his throat. It burned at first, but the warmth spread to his limbs and woke him slightly. He opened his eyes. Danarius was there, holding an empty bottle that had once held whatever potion he'd given to Fenris.

"Master..." he muttered weakly, his chest feeling heavy.

"Fenris. I've decided to take you down, but I wanted you to be awake for it. I shouldn't have to punish you like this, but you've been incredibly difficult lately. And from now on you need to practice with your sword regularly. You're getting weak, and I won't have you getting fat." He stroked a hand down Fenris' exposed torso, his expression still distant and his voice icy. Fenris nodded once,

"Yes, Master..."

"You will not defy me again. You will follow any order without question, you will be polite to Hadriana and all of my guests, and you will be affectionate to me without being prompted to do so. Without wine. Understood?"

"Yes..."

"Good boy. Now..." with magic, Danarius pried the nail free of his left arm. Fenris grit his teeth and grabbed the lintel to keep the weight off his right arm until Danarius freed it too. Fenris collapsed on the floor, coughing, still finding it difficult to breathe, like his lungs were full of water. Danarius healed Fenris' wounds, clipped the chain to Fenris' collar, and tugged it impatiently. Fenris staggered to his feet, clinging to Danarius' robe to steady himself, and followed him out. The Magister allowed him to clean some of the blood off himself at a basin of water and then Danarius took him to a room in the back of the mansion, rather than up to his bedroom, and removed Fenris' elaborately painted collar, replacing it with a simple, thick, brown leather band so he matched the rest of the Magister's slaves.

"This is the slaves' sleeping quarters and you will join them." The room was barely lit, a few moth-eaten blankets and pillows scattered around the floor where the slaves made their beds, though the room was empty now that the slaves were working in the kitchen and keeping the house clean. "You will eat with them and sleep with them. I do not have time for your disobedient behavior; I have a meeting with some of my associates, and I have no desire for my friends to have to deal with an impolite pet."

"I'm sorry, Master..." Fenris was surprised to find he truly meant it, "How long do you want me to stay here?"

"Until I say otherwise. Perhaps forever. I haven't decided. Perhaps you can earn your way back into my favor? We shall see. Make yourself useful with the other slaves. If I find you slacking off, you will be punished," he turned to go, but paused for a moment, and looked back over his shoulder, "And you may not touch yourself. No matter how often you think of me, I will have none of it. And I will be asking the others to keep an eye on you so they can report back to me. If you step out of line, I will know." He left and closed the door. Fenris sighed, staring at the door, sitting cross-legged on the floor to rest; he'd had no sleep and had endured an ordeal of pain and suffering. He supposed he should go to help in the kitchens... But even the floor was so inviting... He pulled a pillow close, and lie on his side, deciding to just close his eyes for a moment or two, to catch a small bit of rest before going to work...

He woke with a foot digging into his side, and he found the cook Danarius had borrowed for his stay in Kirkwall looming over him; he was an elf too, and balding, not the human mage Fenris had seen in Minrathous.

"Get up, boy, I don't have time to whip your lazy arse into shape! You've missed breakfast. So, since you're so keen on skipping out on chores, you'll be cleaning up the kitchens alone. And you'd better have the mess cleaned up in time for lunch preparation! The Master's told me why you're here, and don't think you'll get special treatment just because you're his body guard!"

"O-of course not, sir... Forgive me..." Fenris got to his feet, shaking his head. Well, at least he felt somewhat better. Though he didn't have the slightest idea how to clean... He tied his overgrown hair back, and trudged to the kitchen, finding complete destruction in the kitchen: used pots and pans were scattered around the room and crusted with old food, dirty porcelain plates stacked high in the sink, and the counters were scattered with discarded bits of chopped vegetables. Did they ever clean in here? Danarius must not have known, or he would certainly have stepped in to enforce better cleanliness. It was impossible that all this had appeared over night or after having prepared only one meal. Fenris sighed. He might as well get to it and do the best he could.

The dishes were first, so he took all of them out of the sink and piled them along the dirty counters, washing out and filling the sink with hot water and obtaining a bar of lemon-scented soap and the cleanest rag he could find, and started washing the terrifyingly high pile of dishes. He was certain he wouldn't even finish this much before the cooks returned to make a mess of the place again—not that it wasn't already—but the washing and putting away took much less time than he had thought. Then, he moved on to the surfaces and counters in the room, tossing out the dirty dish water and the old, dry, and moldy remains of chopped vegetables. He grimaced the entire time, but this was marginally less disgusting than being covered in his own blood and suffering in a cold, wet basement.

Before he could even think of looking for a broom to tackle the floor, the cooks returned, and the head chef took a look around, scowling.

"You didn't finish." Fenris opened his mouth to comment on how horrendously dirty the kitchen was, and closed it, re-thinking his words,

"Sorry..." he muttered, though there was little conviction in his voice, "I will try again after lunch is served."

"Good. And you'll do better next time or the Master will hear about it! Go on, I don't want you spoiling my food. You obviously can't clean so I have doubts on whether or not you can cook. Make yourself useful somewhere else." Fenris nodded once and left. Now what was he to do? Danarius had said something about being in better shape... It might give him something to do if he were to work out.

Fenris took Danarius' demands to heart and in his spare time he would exercise, finding that it cleared his head and he was almost /happy/ when he was doing it. He would run up and down the main stairway that led to Danarius' room until he tired, and after a few weeks when he grew bored of that he snuck out to the courtyard in front and coaxed a passing city guardsman to spar with him. The guard laughed at first, but agreed nonetheless. Fenris had forgotten that, although Lethendralis was light for a greatsword, Fenris tired quickly during practice. It had been such a long time since he'd killed those guards at Danarius' spire, and he was, in fact, getting weak. Fenris grumbled in frustration but refused to give up, asking the guard if he would be willing to return when he had free time to help Fenris practice. He agreed.

Over time, Fenris learned to move just as quickly as he opponent, even though the guard used a sword and shield, and soon the elf could overtake the human effortlessly, which put the guard in a foul mood every time, the guard muttering something about elves and how there was no way a human should be defeated by an elf. Fenris took pride in that, but was sad when the guard grew fed up with losing and stopped slowing up all together.

The time approached when they would return to Minrathous, and Fenris was happy to be going home. Danarius hadn't so much as looked his way since he had demoted Fenris to a standard household slave, but it hardly bothered him. He contemplated cutting his hair off short again because it was becoming annoyingly long, but he wasn't sure if that would draw Danarius' wrath or not since the Magister had told him he preferred it long, so he left it alone and just tied it back to keep it out of his way. Fenris lie on his bed that evening after dinner service was done, actually content with the way things were going for once. He dozed off with the tiniest of smiles on his face...

"Get up, Fenris." The elf woke and snapped to attention a little too eagerly, surprised when he found his master standing over him. Fenris nearly smiled, happy to be paid attention, but he stamped his feelings down, refusing to admit that he desired Danarius' attention.

"Master... What time is it?" he asked. Danarius removed the plain leather collar and brought out Fenris' usual blue-and-gold embellished one, and quickly fastened his leash to his collar and wrapped it around his hand, pulling him down the hall firmly.

"Almost midnight. I tire of sleeping alone, but I've become bored with our usual routine."

"Forgive me... I shall endeavor to do better, Master."

"Oh yes. Yes you will." Danarius pushed him into the bedroom and closed the door. Fenris leaned against the wall as Danarius loomed over him and he put his arms around the Magister when he latched onto the side of his neck. Fenris gasped, clutching the mage's shiny, silken robe. He didn't know why he enjoyed this so much or why he wanted Danarius' hands all over him like they were now, making short work of the toggles on the front of his tunic and sliding it back off his shoulders and lighting his tattoos. The moan the elf emitted was more desperate than he wanted it to sound.

"Yes, yes... Much better..." he crooned, the saccharine affection back in his voice as he admired Fenris' more sharply toned body, "Beautiful. You've done such a good job..." Fenris braced himself against the wall, sighing deeply. Danarius leaned in and whispered in his ear, "You looked beautiful when you were tied up..."

"O-oh...?" His voice quavered. He wasn't certain what this could mean.

"Undress, and get on the bed."

"Y-yes Master," he nodded once and Danarius pulled away to watch as he removed his clothes. Fenris stripped down quickly and knelt on the bed. Danarius pulled him close again by his leash, smiling as he untied and stroked Fenris' silver hair. Fenris closed his eyes, leaning into that touch. He gasped when Danarius hooked the leash over one of the bed posts behind him, which pulled the elf's head back. Then, he bound Fenris' wrists together with a long strap of leather and tied that to the post at the foot of the bed diagonal to that, pulling his arms out taut and making him sit up straighter than was comfortable to keep the collar from restricting his breathing.

"I like it so far," Danarius smiled, "I'll have to think of something more creative when we return home." He petted Fenris' hair and kissed the side of his neck, wrapping his arms around him. Fenris sighed as his hands wandered over every inch of his skin, leaning his head back on Danarius' shoulder. Danarius tied leather around his legs, forcing him to keep them bent, but Fenris didn't move as Danarius' hands wandering over his skin made his tattoos burn in a way that seemed almost pleasant. He moaned when Danarius stroked over his hardening flesh tenderly, and Danarius kissed along his jaw and ear.

"Are you happy to be back in my room with me, little wolf?" he breathed, his voice soft and sending a shiver along Fenris' spine.

"...Yes..." he admitted.

"I missed you," he kissed Fenris' shoulder, and sighed deeply. His hands drifted away, "Unfortunately, I am far too worn to take this further. I suppose I underestimated my own stamina..." he extinguished the lamp at the bedside.

"Are you... Going to take these off, Master...?"

"No. I'm... Exhausted..." he yawned widely, and whether he was faking it or it was real, Fenris wasn't sure, and he was glad the room was dark so Danarius couldn't see the glaring, seething expression on his face, but his tattoos flared in the darkness, surely giving him away; they always reacted to strong emotions. Wait... Was that a chuckle from Danarius that he heard in the dark, or his own imagination? He couldn't be sure, and couldn't ask if this was some sort of cruel joke, so he raged in the darkness, wishing he could do to Danarius what he did to Magister Alamara and punch his fist through his master's chest.

An ache settled in his groin, growing stronger as time passed, and Fenris growled about that, tugging his wrists to see if there was any way to loosen his bonds. Nothing budged an inch, and the leather was too strong for him to break no matter how hard he pulled, it seemed, and he couldn't really relax either with his leash looped so high on the bedpost, lest he strangle himself.

He grew sore and cramped and eventually the anger diffused, exhaustion wearing him down. Tears started dripping slowly down his cheeks from the strain, and at dawn he was nodding off, only to jerk awake when the collar cut off his air and threatened to suffocate him. Danarius shifted beside him, and finally woke when sunlight filled the room, and knelt on the bed, kissing the tears from his cheeks and releasing his bonds. Fenris flopped like a dead fish onto the bed and Danarius was on him as soon as he hit the blankets. Killing the mage never crossed Fenris' mind, relief flooding in when his muscles could relax, and he was content to let Danarius do as he wished.