"So how did you end up here?" Fenris was leaning against the wall of her bedroom, watching as she brushed out her hair, sweaty and knotted after a long day in the kitchen.

"Bandits," she said, frowning at the memory. "I had been out picking herbs for potions. I guess I strayed too far from the village. I was kidnapped by five men who had been hiding out in the caves outside Lothering. They sold me on to slavers, and the next thing I know I'm tied up on a ship."

"Did they hurt you?" Fenris' fists were clenching.

"No. They barely touched me. I guess I was worth more to them unspoiled," Bethany rolled her eyes. "I feel so stupid though, wandering off on my own."

Fenris made a noise of disgust. "Do not blame yourself. The fault is with those who took you."

Bethany knew that was true, but it didn't make her feel any less angry at herself for her stupidity. Those first days after her capture had been the worst of her life. She had wet herself in fear and she remembered the men had gagged her with her own soiled smallclothes. She'd not slept a wink, convinced the minute she closed her eyes the men would be upon her. She hadn't eaten, feeling sick constantly. The bandits had forced her to walk until she had collapsed, weak and terrified. Then they'd tied her to a cart and wheeled her along until they'd reached Amaranthine and sold her to the Tevinter slavers who had shipped her to her new master.

Her first master had been a new magister, not the most important or powerful. He had not abused her; rather he had found out what she was good at, and put her to work in the kitchens. She knew she had been lucky; many slaves had a far worse fate. But it was hard to feel fortunate when she ached for her family every day.

So ironic, she thought, to avoid the Circle for all those years and then to end up here.

"You would have been better off in the Circle, among your own kind," Fenris said, making her jump as she had not realised she had spoken aloud.

"My own kind?" She felt a flare of anger towards the elf. "I am human; my magic does not define who I am. I am nothing like the mages here!"

Fenris lowered his head. "No. It seems not. It was a poor choice of words, I'm sorry."

Bethany sighed. She walked over to Fenris and covered the elf's hand with hers. "All I wanted was a peaceful life with my family, to do what other village girls did, work on the land, meet a nice boy and have children of my own. I never had the chance, and I suppose now I never will." She felt her eyes fill with tears. "I often used to fight with my mother for being over-protective. She never allowed me to date boys, never let me leave the village without my twin brother there to keep an eye on me. She was so afraid of Templars. The day I was abducted was the first time I'd disobeyed her. I wish with all my heart I hadn't."

She felt Fenris' arm slide round her shoulders and he supported her as she sobbed, her face buried in his chest.

Eventually Bethany sniffed and pulled away, dashing the tears from her cheeks. She paced the length of the little room before taking a deep breath and looking the elf in the eye.

"Fenris. Would you... will you kiss me? It's just, I've never... and I want to know... what it is like. I don't want to die without ever being kissed."

Fenris' eyes widened before narrowing in a frown. "You're not going to die, Bethany."

"Nobody knows that," she said, sadly. "Slaves go missing all the time."

"I won't -" Fenris began, then stopped and shook his head at the futility of that statement. They both knew that he could not protect her from harm, if their master so desired it.

She tilted her chin as he moved towards her, strong fingers pushing through her tangled hair. His lips were remarkably soft for a man who was all tight muscle and hard planes. She felt his mouth against hers and sank into the kiss, taking her cue from his movements, her lips parting and her tongue touching his as he pulled her close. It was a heady sensation; his scent surrounded her, armour oil, sweat and musk, and he tasted of cloves and the bitter juice they were often given to drink. All her residual shyness melted away as their tongues twined hungrily and the kiss deepened, her arms around his waist, their bodies pressed together. She never wanted to stop, never wanted this kiss to end. It was everything she had ever dreamed it would be, and more.

It was Fenris who broke away, stepping back and panting as he wiped his hand over his lips.

"I'm sorry, Bethany, I shouldn't have..."

She reached out to touch his cheek, flinched when he turned his face away. "But Fenris, I asked you to... I wanted to."

"We are slaves, Bethany. We aren't allowed to want. I shouldn't even be here. I'm sorry. It can't happen again." His eyes were unbearably sad, and she found she couldn't look at him any longer. She turned away, jaw set and blinking hard, and stared silently at the wall until she heard him moving behind her, heard her door close and his footsteps retreating down the hall. Then she sank on to her small bed, and cried harder than she had since the days after she was taken.

For the first few days after the kiss, he walked her to her room in silence, leaving her there with only a brief goodbye. Bethany was bereft, feeling lonely in a way she had never experienced before. She missed the companionship they had begun to share, the hour or so they had managed to snatch at the end of each day, before anyone had noticed Fenris was not where he should have been.

Then one evening he stood in her doorway almost shyly, producing the pack of cards and raising an eyebrow in a silent question. She laughed, relief and joy spreading over her features as she beckoned him into her room.

"Forgive me," he murmured, squeezing her hand. "I shouldn't have hurt you."

"I understand, Fenris," she said, her heart swelling painfully in her chest. "Can we at least be friends? As much as that is possible here."

He smiled sadly through the fringe of white hair that fell across his face. "Friends."

He had never had a friend before. And this was an odd sort of friendship, forged in stolen moments and hidden glances, but it sustained them both over the long days of that summer. Until the day Fenris was summoned to his master's side.

"Fenris, my little wolf," Danarius' voice was as smooth and slippery as ever. It always set Fenris' teeth on edge.

"Master." Fenris bowed his head obediently.

"I notice you have become rather attached to the young girl we have working in our kitchens. Perhaps you have been spending too much time there?"

Fenris felt fingers of ice slide down his spine. He kept his face and tone carefully neutral.

"I'm not sure I understand, Master."

"Oh, come now, Fenris. Little birds will sing. I suspect you know exactly what I am talking about." Danarius grinned wickedly.

Fenris looked at the floor by his master's feet, said nothing.

"We cannot have some young minx distracting my most prized possession, now, can we? Something will need to be done."

Danarius snapped his fingers and a maid appeared by his side.

"Gardia. Arrange a party. Tomorrow night. I have a new slave to show off. I think this one could be rather special. Do you not agree, little wolf? I feel the pair of you could be quite the draw."

Fenris was silent, eyes wide in horror. The maid curtseyed, disappeared to make the necessary arrangements.

Danarius turned to him. "You will not defy me, sneaking around in secret. We will all see just what you have been hiding. Just what tender fruits are so juicy that you will risk my wrath to taste them. And you will put on a show."

Fenris bowed his head. "Yes, Master."

Fenris watched the preparation of dinner that evening with a cool and detached air. He never once caught her eye, gave her none of the usual secret smiles that they would share. Bethany was distracted by his mood, nervous and worried. By the time he followed her to her room, she was as jumpy as a grasshopper.

"Fenris," she turned to him the moment the door closed behind them. "Something is wrong. What's the matter?"

"Oh, Bethany," he said, voice cracking, unable to look her in the face. "I've been such a fool. I thought... I was lonely. I thought we could be friends."

"But Fenris, we are friends. Aren't we?" Lines of worry creased Bethany's pale forehead as she reached for the elf's hand. He pulled away from her sharply.

"We were. You will hate me, soon enough." Fenris' voice was muffled, his throat thick with looming tears.

"I couldn't hate you, Fenris. You're all I have to look forward to, in this place. Our friendship is far too precious to throw away. Why... why would you think I'd hate you?"

Fenris sank down on to her bed, head in his hands and shoulders shaking as he wept. He'd never cried before, not for the pain of his markings, for the loss of his memories or for his family. But this - this was of his own making. His fault. He should have known better.

"I should never have come here," he said bitterly, wincing at the hurt look on Bethany's face. "I was selfish, and now I've... I've ruined everything. Danarius knows, Bethany. He knows, and he's going to punish us both."

Bethany's chin rose defiantly. "It's my fault as much as yours, Fenris. Whatever he does, I can't regret anything. I care about you too much."

Her words pierced deeper than any dagger. Fenris let out an audible sob.

"Oh, but Bethany, he's going to make us... make us perform at his party tomorrow night," he said, his voice almost a whisper.

"Perform? What do you - oh," she broke off, her hand rising to her face and eyes widening. "No, no... he can't... I can't..."

"I'm sorry, Bethany." Fenris sounded completely broken.

"But Fenris, I've never... I wanted it to be special..." Bethany was panicking, pale and shaky as she thought about what the magister expected her to do.

Fenris closed his eyes, struggling to rein in his emotions. He knew nothing could stop Danarius from holding the party tomorrow, nothing short of a miracle would allow them to escape the spectacle he was planning. But the thought of Bethany - sweet, pure Bethany - being stripped bare and touched for the first time in front of half of Tevinter's ruling classes was enough to make him feel violently sick. Maker knew how she must feel.

"Bethany," he said, softly. "Will you let me try to make it special for you now? Here, just the two of us."

She pressed her fist into her mouth, wanting to scream. She had dreamed of this moment, but not like this. In her fantasies they were free, Fenris telling her how he'd always loved her, had waited for her. Not in a cramped cell, with the elf speaking as if he was doing her a favour.

Yet the thought of being taken for the titillation of the party guests... They could have her dignity, but they would not have this. She sat down beside Fenris on the bed, lay a hand on his arm.

"Fenris," she said, her voice strong and unwavering, and kissed him.

His arms went around her as he returned the kiss, pushing against her until she fell backwards on to the bed with a giggle. Fenris loomed over her, his eyes burning into hers as their kisses became suddenly serious, exploring each other's mouths with an intensity which made her feel weak.

Fenris pulled back to look at her, leaving her lying on her back with her dark hair spread across the pillow, her mouth puffy and pink with kisses, lips moist and tingling. She was breathless, wanting more, tugging him back towards her with a desperation she did not recognise.

"You are beautiful, Bethany," he whispered in her ear as he pressed his lips against the curve of her jaw, his breath hot on her skin. She felt the trace of his tongue as he dragged it along the delicate line of her neck, nibbling softly as he moved his head slowly down her body, down to the starched fabric of her collar.

"Is this OK?" he asked as he began to fumble with the ties of her tunic, hands shaking.

"Yes," she almost sighed as she raised herself up from the bed just enough that he could slip the clothing from her body, her skin pebbling in the chill of the room. She lay back on the bed, tearing off her breastband as she watched him hurriedly strip out of his own armour. His body was firm and lithe, skin smooth and tanned under the pale lines of lyrium which curved and ran over his muscles. She caught her breath as he stripped off his smallclothes, standing naked in front of her, his cock hard and erect and already shining with his need.

He stood at the foot of the bed, pulling down her breeches and underclothes in one swift movement, pausing to run his eyes the length of her body, a shy smile on his lips. He looked as if he couldn't quite believe this was happening, and his surprising bashfulness made her want him all the more. She stretched out a hand and pulled him down to cover her body, his skin warm against hers.

As she felt his mouth on her breast, she closed her eyes and could almost imagine that they were somewhere else, in their own cottage perhaps, warm in front of a roaring fire, loving each other without shame or restriction.

She ran her fingers through the silvery sheet of his silken hair; breathed his name amid stuttering gasps as his lips closed over a nipple and tugged it gently between his teeth. Her back arched and heat pooled between her legs as she felt his delicate yet strong fingers caressing her, trailing patterns across the softness of her belly and thighs.

Then he was touching her centre, one finger dipping into her core. She gasped at the contact, her body writhing beneath him as he brushed against her clitoris. Magic sparked and fizzed in her veins as his lyrium-striped hands danced over her, pulling sensations from her body that she had never believed possible.

She watched, breath hitching, as he settled between her thighs and leaned into her, and she cried out wordlessly as she felt the warmth of his mouth against her. He was slow, sensuous; alternating between soft stroking licks and firm yet gentle flicks of his tongue, delving into her folds and circling her nub until she was coming apart beneath him, fingers digging into the bedspread and head thrown back, panting and whimpering.

Just as she felt she couldn't possibly take any more, he raised himself up on whipcord-strong arms and moved over her, a question in his deep green eyes as she felt his arousal brushing against her.

"Oh yes, Fenris."

It was all he needed. She gasped as he shifted his hips, the tip of his cock slipping past her folds and sliding into her. He groaned as he sank slowly into her tight, wet heat, the feeling of being inside a woman as new to him as the experience was for her.

"Oh, Bethany. You feel..." He couldn't complete the sentence, left speechless by the soft velvet grip of her body around him. She was whining softly, each gentle thrust filling her a little more until he was buried deep within her, his eyes tightly shut as he fought for control.

She heard herself saying his name over and over, her world condensed to this room, this bed, this man who was making her feel the most incredible sensations. The friction of his cock as he moved inside her was like nothing she could ever have imagined, and her heart swelled as she watched the passion on his face as he lost himself within her, thrusting harder and faster as he found his confidence, their bodies in perfect rhythm.

The room began to crackle with electricity as she felt herself begin to spasm, clenching tightly around him as pulses of energy rippled over her skin. She heard him inhale sharply, his eyes flying wide as he experienced the feeling of her magic blending with her impending orgasm, his shaft coated in her juices and tingling with the potency of her involuntary spells.

One last sharp thrust from Fenris and she was pushed over the edge, wailing as she came, blue light surrounding their bodies from her magic and his lyrium. The strength of her climax brought him to his own shuddering peak, cock throbbing almost painfully as he released inside her with a yell and collapsed against her chest, trembling.

"Oh, Maker, Fenris," Bethany said almost in wonder, her skin thrumming with energy as her abilities reacted to the lyrium within Fenris and the sensations of her own body. Her hair was wild around her face, sparks of icy radiance flickering about her fingertips. She had never felt so powerful.

Fenris slid out of her body with a gasp, sitting back on his haunches and gazing at her with a mixture of fear and adoration.

"What... What was that?" he said, dazedly.

"Ah… I'm sorry. I couldn't seem to help it," she said, her eyes still stormy and dark. "I've never felt my magic like that before. It felt like… well, it felt like I could do anything." It still did, but she didn't want to admit it to him.

Fenris was silent, biting his lip thoughtfully. Bethany began to worry that she had gone too far, that the magic he hated had damaged him in some way.

"I've lived among the magisters all my life, as far as I can remember. I have never seen any look as you did then," he said.

"Did I hurt you?" she blurted out, desperately.

"No! No," he shook his head. "It was the most wonderful thing I have felt in my life, hard though it is for me to admit it. It's just frightening, the amount of strength you seemed to have, there at the end."

"I'm not going to use magic, Fenris. I can see the harm it does," she said earnestly, willing him to believe her. "It's calming now, slowly. I am sure I will be back to normal soon."

"Perhaps." Fenris looked thoughtful. "Just what do you think you could do, with your magic like that?"

Bethany shuddered. She had felt as if she could have brought the entire estate crashing down around their ears, that she could have cast spells more dangerous than any she had ever imagined. She looked mutely at the elf, not wanting to explain just what she had experienced.

"Bethany, look, this is important. Whatever happened then, could you… do you think you could match a Magister, if you tried?"

She frowned. "I don't know. Maybe." Yes. "But for it to happen again, I'd need to…"

Her voice trailed off as she remembered the party, the plans Danarius had for them. She turned her eyes to Fenris, hope beginning to sparkle there.

"Tomorrow, at the party… just look at me. Pretend we are here, in private. And then… we fight back." Fenris' eyes were afire with a strange and deadly light. Bethany thought she had never seen him look more beautiful.

She nodded, a smile stretching across her face.