Before he became my master, I had no reason to speak. I had gladly sheltered my eyes from evil, abiding in the shadows where I could be kept safe by the Maker and His Beloved. I remained mute most days. Silence granted me a freedom most others did not possess with sharp tongues and fearful eyes. Those who speak have their voices taken away. Those who step into the light - they are dragged into an unspeakable place. A place where the Maker is all but absent, and their pleas can no longer be heard.
He had arrived a week ago. Boarded in a secluded nook of the pub, he holed up in the corner every night, surrounded by the shadows of his companions. Occasionally, they would shift in their seats or hold hushed conversation, reminding me that they still lingered. I was well aware of their presence, for he had been watching me. His eyes penetrated across a room full of drunken men and slave-maids like myself. At least a dozen of my fellow workers danced past his predatory gaze, yet he never wavered.
After a week, I grew accustomed to his eyes and continued my work undisturbed. On occasion, I could feel the needle-thin pressure of his gaze stabbing me in the back of my head. Once, he requested I bring a round of drinks to he and his men. My eyes flashed briefly to his own - the color of amber, and of fire. I had out of some unconscious need refused to look him in the eyes since his arrival. An expression of understanding and curiosity passed between us both as I set down his glass and stepped away. He had smiled at me.
The next day I found his seat empty where a shadow should have been hiding in the corner, watching the others but never joining. An immediate sense of urgency pressed against my chest when I noticed the absence, then quickly vanished when I reminded myself of how foolish the notion was - there was no reason to think he was in danger. Travelers came and went like the shore tides in my Antiva, and he was certainly no exception to such a rule. Yet, a part of him lingered in my mind well after he left. I couldn't help but feel a swell of anxiety each day I stepped down into the flickering lamplight of the evening crowd to find his seat ever-empty.
That night a great warmth filled the air; company was sweet, and the ale even sweeter. The well-remembered slop of drinks spilled over their happy cups. Seductive melodies strummed through the night air. The men were happily drunk, and their sweet rosebuds for the evening perched adorningly on their welcome laps. A celebration had come under way, and everyone was to rejoice! Another victory for the Crows, drinks all around! Bring in the women, bring in the music!
It was nights such as this that I took a moment to admire my brief but beautiful Antiva - that of lavished affections and perfumes, and of heavy-laden night air that danced with the song of a lover. The crowd was thick but happy, and decorated with the laughs of strangers bound together by their own company.
Though it was a beautiful sight, I stayed to the shadows where I belonged. Tray hugged to my bodice, I stood and smiled at the festive crowd as they rose into a crescendo on the floor, tables quickly shoved aside, and began to dance with one another. Another of my own stood alongside me, her nervous eyes darting a quick but kind smile in my direction before returning her attention to the floor. One of the brothel whores stumbled our way before taking hold of the elf girl's wrist and pulling her into the massive crowd. The whore didn't seem bothered by it, laughing at the maid's slapping hand as I watched them submerge into the growing crowd. The noise and light began to press in on me.
I scoped out a small break in the crowd leading to the stairs. I took a deep breath in and ducked my head low before making my way past a group of celebrating guildsmen. Before I could reach the stairs, I felt an arm entwine my waist and was forcibly dragged back. I relented to it, swallowing the lump in my throat, and looked up.
"What a pretty whore," he commented. I winced, feeling the heat creeping up my neck, and smiled back at him. The others laughed.
One of the men dressed in warrior's armor nodded and pointed his pint at me. He turned to his dark-haired leader with a frown. "Oh you're scaring her, Seb!" he laughed, waving his drink and sloshing it on the floor. "Leave the poor creature alone."
I began to try and lean away, but instead felt his grip tighten on me with alarming ferocity.
"Nothin' of the sort, 'tis you that's scared her!" he defended before turning his attention to me. My heart jumped into my throat as I stared him in the eyes, my body frozen in fear. He had striking blue eyes, and scars barely visible under the light brown of his skin. I began to crumple into my body out of instinct. His eyes traveled the length of my bosom.
Before the conversation could go any further, one of the others, a leather-clad elf to my left, shoved him hard and released his grip on me.
"Leave her be, Sabine," he smiled, though his tone carried a warning as he stared at my captor. I turned to the elf; his dark eyes smiled at me.
"Forgive my friend," he chuckled. "He is a bit… how we say-" he paused, trying to conjure the word with his hand, "well, a bit drunk is the best way I could describe." I felt eased by his kind laughter, and bared a small but thankful smile to him before bowing and scurrying back to the stairs.
I took shelter in one of the vacant rooms upstairs. Though we were forbidden to stay inside without a patron, I could not stomach the thought of facing the same men to sneak my way back to the servants' quarters for the night. The room was dark and empty, a welcome relief from the thick crowd downstairs. I sighed, and slumped down against the bed post to sit on the floor.
As the evening wore on, I listened with twitching, nervous ears as footsteps grew louder, as did voices, then passed by and faded down the hall. Happy soldiers and drunken men were led back to their rooms by accompanying whores, and through the splintered wood door I could hear their hushed murmurs pass by me.
Only when the noise downstairs had faded and the last footsteps receded from earshot did my frantic heart slow to a calm thrum. I breathed deep and shut my eyes, pressing cold fingertips to my chest to listen. I prayed to Andraste to wrap her arms around me, and to protect me by the shadow of her hands.
The door burst open suddenly, breaking me out of my thoughts to witness a shadow looming in the doorway. My stomach lurched and blood ran cold as I made out the face of the elf from earlier - the one who had helped me. His eyes were cold with a hunger I dare not learn. I struggled for breath as I clambered to stand, fearful eyes never leaving his approaching figure.
He said nothing, and instead slammed the door behind him and stalked across the room to where I stood. I felt the wood of the bedpost press painfully between my shoulder blades. I couldn't back away any further, and relented to wrapping my shaking hands around the frame of the bed. I looked into his dark eyes and found a vicious predator.
Without warning, he grabbed me by the jaw and forced his mouth on mine. I gave a muffled yelp, and instinctively shoved him away. He stumbled back across the room and stood there, waiting. Prowling. I made my way around the bed and backed up against the far wall for protection. Brief anger surfaced in his eyes, then pleasure as he regarded me with a dark grin.
I saw him advancing towards me, but never the moment when he reached me. Instead, I raised my shaking hands in terror and squeezed my eyes shut, praying that the Maker would forgive me. Light flashed behind the dark of my lids, and my attacker let out a shout of pain, followed by a tremendous thump! I opened my eyes, vision blurred by the start of tears, to find his body crumpled on the ground and limbs twisted at unnatural angles. A blue glow surrounded his body - his empty eyes stared up at me, questioning and lost.
"Andraste forgive me," I trembled as the sobs began to bubble in my throat. The door swung open once again, and I knew then that I would die. There is no mercy for those that speak. If you should step into the light, your retribution would be in your death - a slow, painful, and tortured journey into the dark. There lies a place where the Maker does not hear your screams.
I fell to my knees, eyes filled with obscuring tears, and looked up to the one that would kill me. I raised my shaking arms, palms pressed together as I awaited for death. I had done wrong, and I was to be punished. I had taken a life, and so - in exchange - I was to give mine. I awaited the steel of a blade to my neck. Instead, he reached out a hand and touched my face. His fingertips were rough and cold against my skin. I did not feel afraid as I had before, but instead - comforted. I shut my eyes and let the air rush out of my lungs, and with it all of my fear and doubt.
"Hush now," he told me, and so I did. I rose to my feet, led by the gentle urge of his hand until I leveled with his gaze. A hood obscured his features, and in the veil of shadows his face was all but impossible to find amidst the darkness.
He chuckled and a sharp sensation struck my chest. I felt winded, though I had not run, and my nerves stood on edge, though I did not fear him. Trust swelled in my chest; I did not know this man. I felt my heart tugging towards him, as if he held a string attached through my bodice. In that moment, I felt completely alone in the shadow of his gaze.
"What do you want of me?" I asked; I had remained silent for six months. Though I did not understand why, this man, this creature in shadow produced from me a longing for acceptance I had not known before. I swallowed the hesitation in my voice and stepped forward, needing to prove my worth to him. I bowed, low and graciously, before rising once more to my feet. "I am Kaidasa Surana, il mio salvatore," I spoke with respect, nodding my head.
"It is an honor to hear a slave tell me their true name," he answered. His voice was deep and harsh, yet warmed my chest with each word spoken. I blinked, breathing in deep, and tried once more to shape out a face from the darkness. In that same moment, he flashed his hand in front of me and a light sprang awake. I jolted and spun around to find a lit candle sitting on the nightstand. Startled, I turned back to find his hood gone, and his fire-bright eyes looking directly into mine. Behind him stood the lingering eyes of his followers in the dark. My heart leapt into my throat as I realized that my savior was none other than my smiling patron - the man of shadows.
"Andraste's grace-" I said breathlessly, "forgive me, ser." I dropped immediately to my knees and pressed my forehead against the floorboard. I felt a hand, again, gently touch under my chin and guide me back up to my feet. I stood and - breathing shallow and light - dared steal another look.
His amber eyes were fierce, but filled with a mysterious wisdom; he looked at me not with the eyes of a wolf, but of a creature of understanding, perceiving the inner workings of a counterpart. I felt naked before his eyes, yet protected.
His dark brown skin was decorated by blackened ash and red markings strewn over his face and arms. His hair, though shaved on either side, crested across his head in a clawing, ink-black wave that draped just shy of his jaw. He wore various fangs and small bones in his ears and as jewelry. He along with his men were dressed in crude leather armor and covered in fur. I looked back into his eyes with a small intake of breath.
"Y-You're Chasind," I whispered. He stepped forward into the candlelight, further magnifying the image of his face. I was tempted to step back, but instead remained frozen to my spot, both fearful and captivated. My eyes stayed locked on him for the singular reason I rested between the spaces on either side of his head.
"You're an elf," I added, as if not believing it myself. He was far too tall and broad to be an elf, and had skin thick like leather hide. He smiled at me then, and for a moment I forgot my fear. His fingertips brushed the side of my face.
"And you are a mage, as am I," he said. Fear returned as I was reminded of my crime, and quickly filled with a deep dread that settled in the pit of my stomach.
Before I could conjure up a possible plea for his protection, for anything he might do to help me, he spoke in my stead. His eyes spoke an intimate conversation between us both so that no others could hear.
"I have watched you, Kaidasa," he murmured into my ear. The others stood in the doorway, absent of our exchange but wary. I let out a trembled breath as the heat of his voice stung my ear. I clasped my hands to my chest. "You now belong to me," he whispered.
"My Kaidasa…" he smiled, leaning away.
And without a single murmur of respite, I knew it to be the truth. In that moment, he became my master, and I found a reason to speak. I found a purpose. From that day he carried me away from my Antiva, and deep into wilds I had never known, and I became his. I became Kaidasa the light, slave of my savior - the beloved of Mahiel the Devourer.