Pain.

It was everywhere, inescapable and all-consuming. Every breath, every heartbeat, every movement, every touch burned, as if her blood itself had been set on fire. She couldn't think beyond the crippling agony and she would have done anything for even a moment of relief, but no respite came, just wave after wave of agony. Hands touched her, running across her body, moving her. She tried to scream, tried to beg for them to stop, tried to push them away, but neither her voice nor her body obeyed her. Liquids were forced down her throat until she choked on them. On and on it went until finally the blackness of sleep swallowed her again.

Fenris sat on the floor against the wall, staring up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. He'd lost count of how many times Seren had woken up. He tried to tend to her when she was unconscious, knowing that while she was in a drugged sleep, she couldn't feel his touch. The healing salve was doing its work, helping to close the wounds left from the ritual, but applying it was agonizing, having to be massaged into nearly every inch of skin in order to work. The fever that burned through her left her drenched with sweat, and he didn't wash it away for fear of washing the salve away again and subjecting her to yet more pain.

When she woke, though, that was the worst. There was no comprehension in her eyes, only pain and fever hazed confusion as he forced desperately needed water and broth into her. Fenris wanted to hold her, wanted to tell her it would be all right, but he couldn't, not without hurting her. Not to mention that it would be a lie. All he could do was force her to swallow a sleeping draught and hope the oblivion of sleep provided some relief.

What surprised him the most was how much he hurt. His heart ached each time he heard her cry or whimper. He pressed a hand flat against his chest, unable to understand how or why it was happening. Was this what his victims felt like, as he wrapped his hand around their hearts? Was this his reward for the lives he had taken? Given the choice, he would rather be a mindless killer than have to suffer this each day.

"Fenris?"

Startled from his maudlin thoughts, he looked up to see one of the slaves Danarius had sent to assist him looking at him fearfully. The household slaves were all terrified of him and he'd been afraid their fear would render them less than useless in tending to Seren, but they're done their duties well, responding immediately whenever he needed something. That it was fear that drove them didn't make their aid less wanted or needed.

"What?" he snapped, not bothering to disguise his irritation at being disturbed.

"There's someone..." The slave gestured to the doorway, thankfully shielded by a thick curtain.

Fenris sighed and pulled his feet under him, standing with a bitten back groan. He hadn't slept more than a few hours hours in the last three days, hadn't eaten nearly enough, and it was taking its toll. He knew he needed to keep up his strength, but he couldn't summon the energy to care.

When he slipped around the curtain, he found Seren's sister, Bethany, hovering uncertainly in front of the doorway. Fenris made sure to stand directly in front of the opening, blocking her physically from entering the room. He hadn't had much contact with Seren's family, aside from seeing them around the estate. He did know that Bethany was a mage, and that she was ill-suited to becoming a magister, far too gentle to handle the bloody politics of the Imperium. Perhaps that's why she was here and not her brother or mother, both of whom shared more of Seren's spirit, if not nearly so much.

Bethany took a step back from him reflexively, and then caught herself. "Seri? Is she…?"

"Your sister lives," he replied shortly, unwilling to tell the girl exactly the state Seren—and she would always be Seren in his mind, no matter what Danarius had renamed her—was in.

She drew a ragged breath and nodded, her eyes closing briefly in relief. "We're leaving," she said quietly. "Danarius wants us gone, but we couldn't leave without knowing."

When Fenris said nothing, she licked her lips nervously. "W-We're going to Kirkwall. Mother has family there. Tell her…tell her we'll be waiting for her. And that we love her."

Eyes sliding closed to block out Bethany's desperately worried, earnest visage, Fenris took a deep breath to steady himself. "I will tell her," he said quietly, knowing the words were a lie even as they passed his lips. He couldn't tell Seren's sister that waiting would be in vain because Seren was gone. That she wouldn't remember her family. That it would be as if Bethany, Carver, Leandra and Ferelden never existed.

That he never existed.

"Thank you." Fenris nodded, but said nothing else, opening his eyes once more. Bethany glanced nervously down the hall. "I have to go," she said hurriedly. "Take care of her for us."

"I will." That was truth, a promise he could make with a clear conscience. As much as he'd failed Seren already, he would take care of her as best he could.

"Thank you," she said again, and then stepped forward and wrapped him in an impulsive hug. Fenris went rigid, but before he could break the hold himself, Bethany was stepping back and wiping at her amber eyes with her hands. Then she turned and fled down the hall, leaving Fenris alone in a room with the woman he loved.

And who used to love him.

The first time she woke up, and wasn't overwhelmed by pain, she managed to open her eyes and look around. She didn't recognize the room she was in, all featureless tan stone with a few cots set against the walls. Light from a few high windows illuminated the space. Not seeing anyone else, she tried to push herself up, unable to bite back the whimper of pain the movement caused. In an instant, there was someone coming toward her and she instinctively flinched away, throwing an arm up in front of her face. She heard a quick, indrawn breath and the person stopped their advance, remaining utterly still. Slowly, she lowered her arm, cautiously looking at the stranger.

He was tall, and strange looking. His skin was tanned, but his hair a brilliant white, the pointed tips of his ears poking through the strands, and he was covered in strange white markings. Similar markings to the ones she could see on her own arm, though his looked long healed while the skin around hers were still red and swollen, tender to the touch. She frowned down at them. She had no idea why she had them or how they had gotten there. Struggling to think, to put the pieces together to figure out what was going on, she realized there was a lot she didn't know.

Starting with her own name.

Her head snapped up to look at the stranger. She didn't know who he was either or where she was or what she was doing here. She could name all the objects in the room, knew that the stranger was an elf, but anything specific was...gone.

Her breath started to come faster, the air jerking in and out of her lungs as panic set in. "Who am I?" she whispered, terrified that she couldn't remember. "Where am I? What happened to me?"

The stranger must have seen how close to breaking she was because he came forward quickly, dropping down next to her cot and gently grasping her shoulders. It hurt, but the pain was distant, unimportant. "Be calm," he said firmly. "You are in no danger. Calm yourself."

His touch was steadying, his gaze even more so, and her breathing began to even out. He nodded when she relaxed, sagging back into the cot, every muscle in her body aching. "Good," he murmured. "Rest is what you need now."

She gripped his wrist before he could pull away. "Answer me."

His lips thinned, but he settled back down, kneeling carefully by her cot. "Do you remember anything at all? About yourself? About this place? About me?" The hesitation before the last question was slight, but she noticed it.

Her brow furrowed as she racked her mind for anything that seemed familiar, but came up blank. She shook her head. His eyes closed for the briefest of moments and his shoulders sagged slightly as if he was disappointed. Then he straightened himself and nodded. "Your name is Leto. My name is Fenris. We are in Minrathous. We are slaves in service to the Magister Danarius and we serve as his bodyguards. Our markings are lyrium and were given to us in a ritual. That ritual is what caused your memory loss, but your skills should remain intact."

She turned the information over in her mind. Her name was Leto? She tested it silently. It didn't feel right, didn't seem to...fit. Even if her memories were gone, shouldn't her own name be familiar? But with nothing else to go by, the name would have to suffice. Leto frowned as she considered what else Fenris had said. Ritual? Magister Danarius? "I don't remember any of that."

Fenris's frown deepened and it made Leto sad, though she didn't know why. All she knew was that she didn't like seeing him frown. "It is a side effect of the ritual. I am sorry. You will learn all you need to once you're well. Maybe…."

Fenris shook his head, not bothering to finish his last thought. "You need to rest." Carefully, he pried his wrist out of her hand and urged her to lay back down. Leto wanted to resist, to ask more questions, but she was tired and she still hurt. Reluctantly, she let Fenris press her back down onto the cot and took the cup he offered her. It tasted slightly bitter and she began to feel the effects almost immediately. As she started to fall asleep, she reached out and managed to catch a couple of Fenris's fingers in her hands. She didn't want him to go and leave her alone. She didn't have the strength to do more than hold them weakly, but Fenris didn't pull away, staying right where he was as she fell back asleep.

As soon as Seren was asleep again, Fenris fled the room and raced back to his own cell. He stood, shaking, in the center of the small space, feeling his eyes burn as his vision went blurry.

He had hoped. Even with his own experiences, knowing what had been done to Seren in the most intimate way possible, he had still hoped that it would have been different for her. That somehow some of who she had been would have remained. That when she saw him, she would have remembered something.

There was no hope anymore. Seren was gone.

His knees buckled and he fell to the floor, jaw clenched tight against the pain that welled in his chest, greater than any physical agony he had ever known. Fenris had lost her. He had lost the only person he had ever loved—and he knew now that he truly did love her, now that it was too late to do anything about it.

And he had never told her.

Fenris knew that on some level Seren had to have known how he felt. She saw parts of him that he hadn't been aware he had, let alone shown to anyone else. She knew he had cared, but she was the one who said the words, who admitted how she really felt. In the end, he been been too unsure, too afraid to give voice to his feelings. Now it was too late and he would regret that until the day he died.

Slowly, he calmed himself, wiping the few tears that had escaped from his cheeks. Seren was gone. He had to accept that. In her place was Leto and she would need his help more than Seren ever had. She would be lost and confused and helpless until she learned what she needed to and Fenris would not allow her to go through that alone. It would be his last gift to Seren, fulfilling the promise he had made not to leave her alone in this wretched place.

He put away the memories they had made—training together, letters and words traced in sand, the sound of rain as they kissed for the first time, and so much more—where they couldn't hurt him, tucking them beside the fragments of a life that he only saw in his dreams. That was two lives he had lost now, both to the cruelty of Danarius's need for more power, and there wasn't enough blood in Minrathous to pay him back for all the pain he had caused.

Fenris rose to his feet. He would eat and bathe and rest. And then he would begin teaching Leto what she needed to know to survive.

After a few more days in the healing room, as Leto learned it was called, she was feeling stronger. She still hurt, the lyrium strange and uncomfortable in her skin, but the most acute pain was fading as her flesh healed. Fenris spent most of each day with her, teaching her what she needed to know—how to treat their master, his apprentice, other magisters and the rest of the slaves in the household. Several times, she found herself wondering why he had to teach her these things. Everything else came as second nature; dressing and feeding herself, handing the small weapons and bits of armor Fenris let her familiarize herself with, even speaking both the common tongue and Tevene. If she were a slave, then shouldn't this come as naturally to her as the rest of it did?

She asked once and only once. Fenris's already impassive face had shuttered so completely that she knew better than to ask again.

One morning, Fenris entered and motioned for her to rise. "Where are we going?" Leto asked, curious.

"Danarius wishes to see you," he replied. "You need to be made presentable."

Seren looked down at herself. The short, sleeveless tunic she wore was threadbare and showed having been worn for a few days and she knew her hair was probably a mess. Washing off with a towel and lukewarm water did a fair job of making sure she wasn't filthy, but the chance to be truly clean again was something she looked forward to.

Silently, he led her through the halls until they stepped into a room, a large tub of steaming water set against the back wall, a few benches set around it. Fenris picked a basket off the floor and handed it to her. Leto peered inside, grinning when she saw the soft washcloths and bar of fragrant soap. Fenris showed her how to draw pails of water and wash up outside the tub, in order to keep the water clean. Leto scrubbed herself down as hard as she dared, sighing as she upended buckets of hot water over her head. Fenris stayed by the door, though he kept his eyes averted as she bathed herself. Leto felt the brief, fleeting urge to get his attention, but it vanished almost instantly. Fenris didn't seem like the type to be amused by such an antic.

Taking the largest towel from the basket, she dried herself quickly. She glanced down at the tunic she'd set down on a bench. "Am I supposed to put that back on?" she asked.

Fenris just shook his head and took a bundle from another basket, handing it to her without comment and while still keeping his eyes away from her. Leto bit her lip, wondering at his behavior. He'd tended to her and had seen her naked. Why look away now? Shaking her head slightly, she set the bunch down on a bench and began to sort through it. She slipped the smallclothes on, stroking over the soft linen for a moment before shaking out the other thin linen garments. There was a low-cut shift and a pair of pants. She pulled both on and tucked the shift into the pants before lacing the pants up. Though the material was thin, it was close-fitting. Not enough to bind, but it definitely wasn't loose or baggy.

The next garment was a pair of black leather breeches. She carefully tugged them on, stopping to smooth out the linen pants as she went, and laced them. Then came a vest of the same black leather. She shrugged it on, carefully doing up the numerous small buckles that pulled it tight across her torso. Lastly, Fenris handed her a pair of socks and boots that she slipped on, stamping her feet a little to settle them before looking up at him.

"Sit," he instructed, pointing at a bench. She sat, wondering what he was doing as he moved around behind her, and then started at the touch of a comb against her scalp. Fenris combed her hair, patiently working out all the tangles, and then pulled it back high on her again, arranging it in some sort of braid. When he stepped back, she reached out with one hand to touch it. It felt perfect and she looked at him for a long moment, noticing the way he refused to meet her gaze, busying himself with gathering up all the dirty linens.

Leto might not know much, might not be able to remember anything from her parts, but she could tell the difference between someone doing something because they had to and doing something because they wanted to. Whatever it was that Fenris wasn't telling her—and she guessed that it was a lot—he knew her. They knew each other, and more importantly, he didn't look at her as just a duty or a burden.

With everything all cleaned up, he gestured to the hall. "Follow me," he said curtly, leading her up into the mansion. Leto looked around as they went, trying to hide her awe at the riches displayed. Danarius had to be quite wealthy and powerful to live like this. They stopped before a set of ornate double doors. Fenris hesitated and glanced back over his shoulder at her. "Follow my lead," he instructed quietly. "Danarius is your master, remember that."

Leto barely managed a nod before Fenris knocked and then opened the doors. She followed him inside, waiting as he closed the door, and then over to stand in front of an even more ornate desk. Leto glanced over at Fenris, mimicking his posture; back and shoulders straight, but head bowed slightly, hands clasped behind her back. As they waited, she surreptitiously glanced around the room. If she'd thought the hallways and rooms they'd come through before had spoken of wealth, they paled in comparison to what she saw now. There was enough wealth in this single room to provide a life for her family for years, if not decades.

Before she could wonder at the strange thought, the man seated behind the desk shifted, finally looking up at them. Leto glanced up at him and fought the instinct to recoil. Danarius was old, hair and beard gray. His skin had a sallow tone to it, his cheeks were sunken, and his ears were oddly crumpled at the tips. She jerked her gaze away before he could notice it and her reaction to seeing him.

"So, she's awake." Danarius pushed his chair back and rose, coming around the desk to inspect her. She held still while he circled her, fighting down her revulsion at having him so close. "She's healing well. She should be ready to resume training, correct?"

Fenris hesitated only briefly before nodding. "Yes, though I would advise waiting for her to heal completely before she learns how to use the lyrium."

Danarius smiled indulgently. "Of course. Your expertise in this matter is most appreciated, my pet."

He waved his hand, dismissing them. "See that she's ready then, and let me know when she's ready to use her new abilities. I want to be present for that."

Leto flicked her eyes over to Fenris. New abilities? He didn't look at her, and she knew that he wouldn't say anything now, but later, when she could get him alone, he was going to explain what was going on.

Fenris bowed, shooting her a sharp look, and she quickly followed suit, following him out of the study. Once the door closed behind him, he relaxed just a bit, a small fraction of the tension falling from his shoulders. Leto was about to ask what they were going to do when he shook his head faintly and looked at her. "Come. We've neglected your training long enough. You need to be in proper form is Danarius is make use of you."

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she didn't want Danarius to make use of her, but she held the words back. They would do no good, not now. She would have to wait and…. Her thoughts trailed off. Wait for what? She barely knew her own name; she was hardly in a position to protest what happened to her. So why did she feel like she should be doing something? That now was finally her chance? Her chance to do what?

A touch on her wrist startled her and she jerked her head over to stare at Fenris. He watched her, almost sadly, for a moment before he drew his hand back. "Come," he said again, softer. "Some fresh air will do you good."

He turned smoothly on the ball of his foot and walked down the hallway they'd come up. Her heart clenched at the sight of him walking away, and before she could think about what she was doing, she hurried to catch up to him, falling into step beside him. They didn't speak as they walked through the halls and outside, and Leto was glad. The thought of Fenris walking away from her, of leaving her, filled her with anxiety. She wanted to ask why, but she already knew he wouldn't answer if she did.

For now, she needed bide her time until she could figure out what exactly was going on, and how to make the best of it.

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