BECOMING

"Fenris... please...if there's any kindness in you... kill me."

He wasn't surprised by the words. He'd asked them of the Maker and of his Master, many times over the years. He was surprised by his regret that he couldn't honor Anders' wish.

"I cannot. Our master has warded the lyrium. I cannot kill, with or without the lyrium's power, except by his wish."

Anders began to weep. He prayed. "Maker, please, just take me... oh, Maker... have mercy..."

Fenris felt one of Anders' hands take one of his, and he didn't know how to respond. This hand wasn't dispensing pain, or degradation. It only sought comfort. From a man Anders had no reason to imagine would want to comfort him.

Fenris sighed. He felt sympathy seep into his heart. It was not his hope that Anders should suffer, this way. He had nothing to offer; no promises, no platitudes, no reassurances. This was a life they both had to endure. He lay down, finally, and pulled Anders into his arms. This much-a connection, a gentle touch-he could give. Fenris held him, learned the smell of the man, the sound of his breath, the beat of his heart.

Anders cried himself dry, clinging to Fenris for warmth and the imagined safety that the elf's arms allowed.

The next day, it became clear why Fenris had been sent from Master's chambers. Master wanted to make a Matched Set of them. Fenris was baffled, but it certainly wasn't his place to show it. Matched Sets were slave twins, that acted as a single unit. Usually comprised of actual identical twins, the primary quality was that they look alike. Often, two slaves, similar in appearance, could be made into a Matched Set. Matching face, physique, coloring, hairstyle, clothing, were the hallmark of a Matched Set. He and Anders had several inches difference in height, they were elf and human. Fenris was dark skinned with white hair, Anders fair skinned with golden-blonde. Not to mention Fenris' lyrium markings.

It was the first of a long line of bizarre behaviors that Danarius would exhibit in the coming years.

As a Matched Set, they were no longer to be without the other beside them. They would share one single cell, or both be in attendance of Master. They would learn to mirror one another's movements and speech. That was the other part of a Matched Set. They moved in synchrony, like a shadow of the other. Their walk, movements, expressions, all should match. It was even expected that they speak in unison. Usually, making a perfect Matched Set called for a trainer to come and work with the pair, extensively. Their entire life would become a choreography.

Master started with their appearance. He had Anders' burnished-gold hair cut to match Fenris'. They were given matching leggings and tunic. Fenris was fitted with a decorative collar to match the suppression collar around Anders' neck.

Then, they were taken to a tattoo specialist. Fenris stripped naked and lay on a cot next to an equally naked Anders. Anders' body was then inscribed with tattoos to match the shape and design of Fenris' lyrium markings. His were reddish-gold, the color of his hair; just as Fenris' markings were shining white, and matched the color of his.

It was a painful procedure for Anders, long and painful. Fenris was just grateful that Danarius didn't plan to attempt another lyrium experiment on Anders. As uncomfortable as the tattooing was, it was nothing like the memory-obliterating agony of the lyrium procedure. Master, of no mind to sit and watch the hours-long session, left them there and went to do whatever masters did without their slaves. The tattoo specialist didn't particularly care what they did, or said, except that they not disturb him or his work. Fenris took the opportunity to better explain what it meant to be a Matched Set. Anders was as confused as Fenris by this turn of events, but to his credit, did not belabor the issue. It was simply what would be, from now on.

Anders was still emotionally numb and physically tender from his abuse the night before. Fenris knew that, eventually, he'd become accustomed to Master's depredations. As for the tattoos being inscribed upon his body, Anders succumbed to what was simply another madness to endure. He understood this 'redesign' of his appearance was a testament to their place in the world. They were being matched, like carriage horses, or shoes, or furniture. During particularly painful areas; the hands, feet, genitals-Anders bit back whimpers. Fenris distracted him by talking. Fenris explained that once in a Set, there was no solitary place in life for either slave. If one died, the other would be killed. If one was punished, the other was punished, equally. Everything about their lives was reliant on the other member of the set. They were paired, and their fates utterly intertwined.

Master was thrilled with the result of the tattoos. Anders' body was covered in markings, just as Fenris' was. His were red, swollen, tender, as new tattoos are. Master ran his hands over them, heedless of the discomfort it caused. He spoke of his anticipation of their self-taught synchrony. It was clear, Master would not send for a trainer. They were on their own to become perfectly matched in action and speech.

That night, in their cell, Anders gazed at the ink covering his skin. He was still dazed by the transformation, made without his consent or desire. It was certainly no worse than being taken to Master's bed, but it was constant. The tattoos could not be forgotten. They were there, ingrained in him, in his vision. He said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Their gruel portion was enough for two, but served in one bowl. They shared it wordlessly, passing it between them, carefully drinking only their fair share. Fenris taught Anders about Danarius' particular preferences in regard to following on a leash, or serving him. They practiced movements-kneeling, rising, reaching, bowing-performing them in sync. They rehearsed speech, replies and intonations.

"Master will expect us to pleasure him, together."

Anders' eyes filled. "No... please, no."

"Let me tell you of his preferences. And, the ways to make it as painless as possible. It won't be ever be painless. He wants it to hurt. But, sometimes, it can hurt less."

Anders drooped, but listened.

"He will want us to perform for him, as well."

"What kind of performance?"

"Depending on Master's desires, of course. He may have us fight... he will expect blood. He will have one of us punish the other... he will expect pain. He will want to watch us couple... he will expect us to be aroused."

"Fenris... I can't get an erection on command."

"It won't matter. He will give us lust potions."

"Lust potions are dangerous. Use is likely to result in injury to the victim."

"Is there anything that leads you to believe that is not exactly what Master wants?"

Anders' stared at him in disbelief. "I won't rape you, Fenris."

"You will if Master wishes it. And, if he wishes it, I expect you-I will rely upon you-to do it. You know this, Anders. We must obey."

Master did wish it.

Fenris could see the relief on Anders' face when Master did not command them to attend his own body. Master instead called Anders to him, petting him, and speaking sweetly. He wished to reward Anders for looking so beautiful in his new tattoos.

He said he had a surprise for him.

He produced the vial of potion from his robes, tilted Anders' head sharply back on his neck, and poured it down his throat.

Anders choked and coughed, eyes wide in disbelief. Master pushed him toward Fenris and commanded them to attend each other's bodies while they waited for the potion to take effect.

Anders hesitated, confused, looking at Fenris with despair. Fenris simply grabbed his head and pulled him into a deep, open kiss. He felt the whimper of fear that Anders tried to bury, and briefly closed a hand snugly about his throat in warning. Then, all the things that he'd instructed Anders to do to Danarius, Fenris did to Anders, as though the mage were a proxy for their master.

Anders finally began to participate, touching the elf in return, kissing and licking him as he'd been told. It was a parody of desire unfelt by either. Fenris knew the potion was kicking in when Anders began to sweat, then tremble, then gain a hard, painful erection. He saw Anders trying to fight it. He wouldn't have been able to, regardless, but with the acts they were performing on each other, he didn't stand a chance.

When Anders suddenly growled in fury, and shoved Fenris to the floor, the elf allowed his body to be positioned however Anders manhandled him. On his knees, face pressed into the tiles, he bit back the cry of pain that Anders' brutal invasion brought to his lips. Anders was at the mercy of the potion, all base instinct, violence, dominance and desperate, painful lust. The potion lasted about half an hour, most times. Climax didn't stop its effect, and Anders continued using him repeatedly. He thrust, scratched, choked, bit. Fenris bled, he hurt, he was exhausted, but he didn't cry out. Master preferred recipients to be silent during their use.

When the potion ran its course, and Anders collapsed in a gasping heap, Master smiled happily. They both struggled to their knees, and expressed a perfectly practiced gratitude for their reward. Master sent them to their cell. Both of them exhausted, they leaned on each other as they made their way out.

Anders' tears fell silently. Fenris held him, again, and relearned his scent, his heartbeat, his breath.

"Shhhh... shhhh... you did well."

"I did well? I fucking raped you, Fenris..."

"I know. That's what you were ordered to do. You took the potion, you followed the command, and you will live another night."

"Fenris..."

"We will both live another night." Anders understood. If one of them was displeasing, both could be killed. There cannot be only one of a Matched Set.

Fenris cupped Anders' face in his hands, made sure the mage heard him. "One night, I'll be drinking the potion. Another, we both might. You are not doing this, you understand, Master is. Tonight, it was not you that used me. It was Master Danarius. You were simply his tool to do it. Do you understand?"

Anders nodded, pulling Fenris tightly against him. "I won't survive this..."

"You will. I will. We will see each other through."

"You don't even like me, Fenris."

"That life is dead. What we were to each other... that's dead, too. We have no choice in this. This has been thrust upon us, but regardless, this is what we are. As a Matched Set, Danarius is our master, but we are responsible for each other, now."

"Maker... Fenris... I won't let you down. I won't."

"I know."

tbc...

Author's Notes:

I know it's painful. Stick with it...