.xvii.
Master is returning.
The estate is a flurry of activity. Alba stands above it all, upon the balcony, watching. All is progressing well. Barring and unforeseen hitches in the preparation of the mansion, all is ready in time for his arrival.
She descends the stairs, making her way to his quarters a final time to ensure all is as it should be. He had sent word ahead to prepare for a new slave. As she read his brusque alert to the other slaves, her heart dropped. Not Fenris, she'd hoped. Even after all the years since he had escaped, he was still a legend to the others. But she had known him before he had become the ruthless, obedient warrior Master had transformed him into. It had been hard enough to watch him go from the spirited, strong young man he had been before Danarius's ritual, burning lyrium in to his bronze skin, to empty vessel he had become. And when she'd next seen him, his hair was no longer black like ravens wings but snowy white, matching the white lines that ran, pulsing blue over the expanse of his arms and neck. Worst of all, his customary ebullience was gone, replaced with unquestioning servitude. Emptiness, as if all he was had been scooped out like melon rind. It had been a terrible, terrifying thing to witness. She imagined it was akin to the 'Tranquility' that mages in other countries had to undergo, in some cases. It was a fate she would not wish on anyone.
Another slave girl, a new elven one she is not completely familiar with yet rushes by, stumbling under her own anxiety. Under her eyes are heavy dark circles and her mouth is perpetually drawn into a frown, concerned and scared. She dips in a quick curtsy, awaiting orders. She makes sure to send the girl somewhere where she will not be harassed too much.
"They're h-h-here!" Balazs whispers, gesturing meekly from his perch at the window. Already he is quaking in the fear that Master inspires in him. Upon his face still lie the scars from when he had been beaten so badly that he laid unconscious for a week, and when he had woken, rare were the times when he was able to utter a sentence without stammering.
All she can do now is glance around the grand foyer one last time. All looks to be in order. She hopes it is, if it not, and Master is in an unkindly mood after all of his travel... Brushing the thoughts away, she goes to stand by the staircase, hands folded behind her back, and head bowed.
The door creaks open, and anxiety presses down on her lungs.
"Home, sweet home," a familiar voice says with flourish, brushing through the doorway, hot, dry air wafting in behind him. She dares a glance. Indeed it is Master and the one who must be the new slave spoken of, thankfully not who she feared it would be. Strange that he would see to escort her personally. The girl, no, woman walks just a few paces behind him, arms crossed, face guarded, but curious as she looks around eyes wide. Around her neck is one of Master's collars, and he holds her chain.
"Salutem, Dominus meus," she says with a deep curtsy. When she draws herself back up, she's noticed the new slave woman has tensed, looking at her like one looks at a person they might know. Alba herself does not recognize her, though. Her skin is warm brown, and hair as dark and lustrous as her eyes. She is wearing the robes of a battle mage. She does not break the gaze once, but rather keeps her eyes and chin up. She is obviously not a slave by birth.
"Alba, you've seen to it all is as I would have it?" Danarius draws her attention away form the slave, who is still looking at her, brows furrowed. She nods. It is odd that he is speaking Common. Perhaps it is for the benefit of his new slave.
"Yes, Master. I am glad to see you've returned." She answers in Common to the best of her abilities.
"Thank you. This," he turns to the girl in the collar, pulling her chain to usher her ahead, "is..." he looks her up and down smugly, hunger in his eyes, "Ava."
"Ava?" the woman echoes, face contorting in confusion, turning to look at him. "My name is-"
He grabs her by the collar, yanking her up off the ground to meet his eyes. She is a head shorter than he, and her feet scrabble for purchase where there is none to be had, fighting his grasp. "Ava," he repeats, dragging out the word, his face turning to hers with a serpentine movement.
He allows her to hang for several moments, face reddening, eyes squeezed shut, feet kicking at empty air, and Alba feels for the girl. She knows what it is to earn the Master's displeasure, but she knows it would only make it worse to interfere, so she watches quietly, trying to think of more pleasant things. When he finally drops her, she drops to her knees on the marble floor, drawing in precious air with heaving breaths, shoulders bent. But she does look back up at Danarius, with a glint in her eye and a set to her jaw, a look she knows so well, one Balazs used to wear before...
"Ava," Danarius speaks again, chiding her and defining her all at once.
"Ava," she affirms with gritted teeth, after a long silence, turning her eyes away.
This woman is strong. It will take a long time to break her in the way the Master wills. It is shameful to think, but she hopes that the Master will ignore her and Balazs now that he has something else to pay attention to.
"Ava, this is Alba. She oversees the household, and ensures that all proceeds as it should."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Ava says with surprising respect, drawing herself to her feet and holding out her hand, though still avoiding Master's gaze. She looks questioningly at the dark haired woman, and then at Danarius, who chuckles in response.
"She means to shake your hand, Alba," he explains, and while his amusement is only slightly better than his wrath, she is glad that he is no longer choking anyone.
"That is not permitted, Master," she ducks her head, hoping that her answer was correct.
"I will allow it, for our new foreign companion." She's not sure if that's permission, or if it's all a trick.
"I-" her hesitation is the wrong move. His face darkens, and he slaps her, sending her reeling backwards, marble stairs jabbing into her bony back as she falls.
"I gave you an order," he says, towering over her, voice cold.
"My mistake," Ava interjects, bodily throwing herself in between them. She holds out her arms, facing Danarius. "It's not her fault, she didn't know. How do you greet new acquaintances in Tevinter? A kiss on the cheek? No, that's Orlais-" He slaps her too, with far more force, and she staggers under the unexpected blow.
"I have allowed enough of your interruptions for one day, whereas once they were amusing, I now grow tired of them." Ava stumbles back in front of her, holding out her arms, shaking her head slightly, not daring to meet his eyes. "Alright, my mistake again. Just- please. Leave her alone. Master." She dips her head as she makes the request, with a strong jawed defiance. Alba is amazed. She has never seen any slave act with this level of courage to the Master, not since Balazs, and it showed what that got him. Foreign indeed!
"The journey has been a long one," Danarius says, letting his hand fall back to his side. "I feel my good spirits waning. Alba, I am retiring to my room. See to it that she is properly taken care of. I want her at evening meal. Understood?"
She nods quickly, standing again, to move out of Master's way. He ascends the shining stairs and disappears.
"Blighted, humorless bastard," mumbles Ava after a beat, rubbing her swelling, livid cheek. Her eye is already darkening with the force of the impact.
"I will get you something for your face," Alba says, her voice so very quiet compared to this woman's, she notices, but she's stopped with a little wave.
"No need, I think I can..." She squints, her fingers curling as blue healing magic flickers in her palm. It isn't much, nothing like the incredible spells Master weaves, but it is enough, and the bruise fades.
"You are a mage!" she breathes, her outlandish attire suddenly making sense. How is it that Master has acquired another mage, like himself, to be his slave? The woman shrugs, rolling her neck in the collar, wincing at the metal digging into her skin.
"Yes, I am. And..." she looks up the stairs, eyes scanning the empty air, "My real name is Hawke. Pleased to meet you." She offers her hand again with a smile. Alba backs away.
"Did I say something wrong? I'd use Tevene but," she laughs a little, shaking her head, "I only ever learned the bad words."
"You are a slave? Not an apprentice?" She remembers the beautiful and cruel Hadriana. Is this woman, who has done nothing but smile, and even protected her from Master's wrath, supposed to fill that role?
"Slave," she confirms. "Long story. Not a very good one, thus far, I must admit."
"That does not make sense."
"Like I said, long story. Alba was it? Sorry about that, earlier. Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" Her back twinges when she breathes in too much, but aside from that, she is fine. Things could have been much worse, considering. She shakes her head. Odd that this Ava-Hawke would ask after her health. Stranger still that she would risk herself in the way that she had.
"Well, that's good. I'll endeavor not to throw you under the wheels again, though you can never tell which way the wind is blowing with that one. Now, is there a bath here? I am in desperate need of one."
Alba is completely and utterly confused by this mage woman, dressed like the arcane warriors of old, serving as a slave, serious and brave one moment, and laughing with ease in the next. She regrets that such a person should be stuck under service to a man such as the Master. Her laughter will not last long.
She leads the strange woman to the baths, listening to her comment scathingly on the 'gaudy décor'.
Author's Note: Another chapter for my wonderful readers. Have I told you guys lately how great you are? It's something that should be oft reiterated. I liked writing this one a lot, though the two things in this story I've been agonizing over are the time span in which this would have to take place to be canon, but still be realistic (in terms of travel and what have you), and the language barriers. I figured it was pretty safe to let most slaves have a basic understanding and grasp of Common. If you disagree, please let me know!
Nezumi: That is exactly how I feel about him. He's going to get what's coming to him, just you wait. With any luck, it will be far more satisfying than what the game gave us.
Avatarfan444: Thank you! I actually wrote the greater portion of this story in advance so I could get a chapter up at least once every two days. I hate waiting long for updates, it can really break up the flow of a good story. I'm really glad you guys all hate Danarius with a passion. Must mean I'm doing something right!
MC: I can't even convey in words how spastic your reviews make me. My head is actually swelling up right now with the inflation of my ego...
Soon to come: The merry band is getting very close to the answer of Hawke's disappearance. Tempers flare, fists fly, and Tevinter better watch out! Stick around!