Metamorphosis - Liryc - Dragon Age II [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1 Chapter Text

Night crept in, coating the Tevinter capital of Minrathous with the deep cloak of darkness. Scattered across the city, tall spires—the homes of the powerful Magisters—loomed over the humble houses, and in the exact center of the city was the tallest tower, the Argent Spire, where the highest rank among the Magisters—the Archon—resided. The smaller towers were carved of dark obsidian, emblazoned with their respective Magisters' personal insignias on both pennants and the front door. Intricate veins of lyrium, making a sort of skeletal tree, were carved into the front door of the Magister Danarius. He was one of the most well-respected mages in Minrathous, along with one of the most powerful. He was a fairly attractive middle-aged man, his neat, brown hair starting to show the signs of graying, his face strong and lean and sporting a thick beard. He always carried himself with an air of superiority that he felt was well-earned.

Chains clashed and rang as the Magister descended the spiraling staircase to the cellar of his spire. His apprentice—a blue-robed girl of about fifteen—followed obediently behind him, slightly fearful of the raucous clamor of metal on stone. A man's furious roar made her jump and reflexively cling to the back of her teacher's long blue-and-white robe, and he chuckled softly.

“Relax. It's only an elf. Hardly a danger at all.”

“But your experiments... Haven't they made him... Well, stronger?”

“Yes, but he is not someone a mage with any small amount of talent could not manage. And he's not much older than you.” Another roar, and the elf yanked on his bonds even harder as the mages entered his line of sight.

“YOU!” he lunged at Danarius, reaching the end of his tether, and snapped back, staggering and falling against the wall. Danarius chuckled again.

The elf was chained to the wall by his waist, a second strand of heavy steel links traveling up the center of his chest clasped to the iron bar that rested across his shoulders. The bar bound his wrists and encircled his neck, forming a sort of martingale that kept his spine bent forward and his head down. Branded tattoos of glowing, blue lyrium twined across his skin much like the symbol on Danarius' door. He couldn't be more than a year older than Hadriana. He glared defiantly at the Magister through his silver hair.

“Hello. How are you this evening?”

“To hell with you, mage.”

“That's not very nice, is it Hadriana?” the girl was still cowering behind Danarius. “How do you feel?”

“Terrible. What have you done to me?” the elf snarled.

“I just added a little lyrium to your skin. I've never been successful in branding it on anyone before now. Does it hurt?” the elf simply glared, as if the answer should be obvious.

“Why did you do this?”

“I want you as my personal slave. My bodyguard. I've seen how you handle a sword, and a man of my importance needs a little extra protection. Tell me, do you remember who you are?”

“No.”

“Not even your name?” Danarius' tone had a sickly sweet, condescending quality to it that made the elf want to wring his privileged neck.

“I said I remember nothing. What part of that is so hard to understand?”

“Don't speak to him that way! You're a slave! Show some respect!” Hadriana finally found her voice, stepping forward to blurt her indignant retort. The elf lunged at her, snarling, his tattoos glowing in his anger, and she yelped and stepped back. Danarius smiled, amused.

“It's all right, Hadriana. I will break him soon enough. I like him feisty, like an untamed wolf...” he smiled a little more, “Perhaps Fenris is a suitable name for you, my little wolf. What do you think of that?”

“I am not your pet!” Danarius simply smiled, which infuriated him more.

“I think that's enough for today. Brace yourself, Fenris. Your training starts tomorrow, and you will not like it. Come, Hadriana.” He gestured to the girl, and the pair exited the room.

“GET BACK HERE AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN, DANARIUS! I WILL NEVER SUBMIT TO YOU!” Hadriana drew close to her teacher as the left the elf to scream and rage alone.

Chapter 2 Chapter Text

The night was long and Fenris got no rest. He had given up on breaking free. He thought the chains would have broken with his newfound powers, but it seemed the lyrium tattoos didn't enhance his natural strength that much. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to use them to his advantage.

Fenris was exhausted by morning, his adrenaline rush from the night before abandoning him in the early hours of the morning. He was dozing when Danarius and Hadriana returned to the basem*nt, and he didn't even have the energy to scowl at them.

“Good morning, Fenris. Did you sleep well?” Fenris said nothing, “Well, that's no good is it? Hadriana, I'd like you to have a go at casting an energy spell. To wake him up for me.”

“Me? But... I haven't had much practice!”

“I think you can do it. Go ahead,” The girl stepped up and Fenris glared at her menacingly. She did her best not to cower under his animalistic gaze. She raised her staff and concentrated, feeling for the Fade, speaking the words necessary for the spell. It flared up at her fingertips and she focused the magic through the staff to amplify it, and cast it at Fenris.

He gasped, startled, when the spell hit him, but the effect was instantaneous. He felt awake, recharged, and a fresh wave of hatred for these mages washed over him. Noticing the change in Fenris, Danarius praised Hadriana.
“Very good. I told you you could do it. Your casting time needs work, but it was a good cast.”

“Thank you, Lord Danarius.”

“So what do you expect me to do? A trick? Perhaps sit up and beg?”

“As fun as that sounds... No. I'm going to untie you, so I can show you exactly why you'll do whatever I say. Take note, Hadriana. I want you to practice some of these spells too.”

“Yes, sir, I will.” Danarius tapped the counterweight at the base of his staff on the floor twice and Fenris's bindings vanished. Fenris rubbed his wrists, finding them uncomfortably raw, and then a vicious glance was cast at the Magister, who was smiling. Hadriana had shrunken back, and yelped when Fenris lunged at Danarius. The Magister simply waved his hand and Fenris's feet crusted with ice, binding him in place. He snarled, yanking on his legs.

“You'll have to try harder than that.” The ice melted, and Fenris lunged again, quicker this time, and was met with a bolt of electricity, paralyzing his muscles, the pain overwhelming him. He staggered when Danarius released him, and howled angrily, his tattoos lighting up brilliantly, aiming to strangle the mage before he could cast another spell. Bars of blinding, blue-white light shot up from the floor, enclosing him, paralyzing him. He couldn't breathe, the cage constricting tightly, crushing him, his bones and joints creaking from the great weight upon him. He didn't even have the breath to scream.

Danarius quelled the spell, and Fenris collapsed to the floor, gasping. He was shaking as Danarius came to stand over him, smiling still. Fenris opened his mouth to spit an insult, but a feeble groan passed through instead, his arms limp and refusing to cooperate.

“Let me show you something else, Fenris. Simple spells are not the only thing I can do.” He waved his staff, and from the floor dozens of arms diffused, bodies following, a group of demons seizing the elf. Fenris recoiled at their icy, tainted touch, his tattoos burning where their foul hands lay on his arms and legs. They lifted him off the floor, to Danarius' eye level, Fenris struggling, crying out in fear as he had no idea what these things were capable of. He had heard mages had access to the Fade and all the spirits inside, but he never knew they could bring them to this world so easily.

“You see, my friends here are always close at hand. If you step out of line, or try to injure me, they will be right here. And with one command... They could tear you apart.” He was still smiling, and one of the demons ripped a great gash across Fenris' chest. He screamed in shock, blood soaking his ragged shirt in seconds. “So you will do as I say. You will listen to no one but me unless I give them permission and you will follow my every order. Is that clear?”

“TELL THEM TO RELEASE ME!” he cried desperately, their claws biting into his skin in a hundred different places.

“Swear your loyalty to me.”

“I SWEAR! I WILL DO WHATEVER YOU ASK!””

“Good.” He smiled wider, and the demons disappeared, sinking back into the floor, dropping Fenris. “Come now. I want to show you around, so you can familiarize yourself with your surroundings. I have other slaves I would like you to meet as well, but you are much different than they are. Much more... Special.” He offered his hand to help Fenris up, and the elf took it warily, standing, wobbling a little, forced to lean against his master for support. This seemed to satisfy the Magister greatly.

Chapter 3 Notes:

This chapter, like many other chapters in the first half, have non-con with Danarius and Fenris. I'll put warnings at the beginnings.

Chapter Text

Late that night, after Hadriana had gone to bed, Danarius escorted him to his room, closing and locking the door behind them.

“As I said before, you are different than my other slaves. Instead of sleeping with them, you will be in here with me. Nice, isn't it?” he smiled. Fenris nodded once, looking around. It was warm in here, the décor lavish and the bedding clearly expensive. Danarius approached Fenris as he looked around, reaching out to touch his silver hair. Fenris twitched and took a step back, but remembered what he was capable of and retook the step forward. There were rules to this game, and perhaps if he followed them he would be treated better. He stiffened when Danarius's hand caressed his stomach, sliding the rough linen tunic up to his chest, baring his flesh.

“Hmm... Lift your arms for me, would you Fenris?”

“Why?”

“I want this off.” Fenris warily did as he was told, and the tunic came off. Danarius threw it aside, sliding a hand along Fenris' naked skin, admiring the way his tattoos lit up. Fenris shuddered and gripped Danarius's wrist, holding tightly.

“Fenris, let go,” he demanded.

“It feels... Strange... When you do that. I do not like the way it feels...” Suddenly, Danarius's other hand clamped around Fenris' throat, squeezing hard. The elf released his wrist, gasping.

“You are mine and you will do as I say, do you understand? I could always bring back the demons again.”

“N-no, don't,” he choked, shaking his head. Danarius's grip loosened.

“I just want to look my newest slave over, so stand there like a good boy and don't speak.” Fenris closed his eyes, trying to take his mind off Danarius's wandering hands and the stinging tingle of the tattoos. He flinched as the mage pulled him close, tracing the curve of his spine, exploring every inch of his skin. He tugged the drawstring holding Fenris' pants up, and they dropped to the floor. The elf gasped and gripped Danarius's shoulders, saying nothing but his breathing had quickened with nervousness. Danarius took a step back to admire him. Fenris blushed and covered himself the best he could.

“Let me fix that for you,” Danarius caressed the claw marks left by the demons on Fenris's chest. They were still oozing blood, but Danarius didn't seem to mind. Fenris's skin warmed when the Magister cast his spell and the wound closed seamlessly. Fenris touched the spot, forgetting he was naked for a moment. He hadn't known that Danarius could use his magic for healing. It seemed unlike him. Danarius pulled Fenris close again, against his chest, and held him tightly, kissing the side of his neck. Fenris shuddered,

“What are you doing?”

“You're my personal slave. You don't think I purchased someone as beautiful as you just to be my bodyguard, did you? You're far too lovely to be left untouched...” his hands traveled down Fenris's sides, pressing him to the wall. The elf planted both palms on Danarius's shoulders, trying to shove him away.

“No! Absolutely not! I will never allow that!”

“I wasn't giving you a choice,” he snarled, shoving Fenris back again. He pinned his wrists above his head, forcing him to stretch out and stand on his toes. Danarius's knee braced against the wall between Fenris's legs and Fenris arched his back, tense as he wriggled to escape. He tried to pull his wrists away, at first confident that he was physically stronger than the mage. For some reason, his limbs would not cooperate, and his strength wasn't there. Danarius was kissing him again, and Fenris struggled. Finally, the Magister released his wrists, and he immediately made to shove him away, but his arms snapped back against the wall. He cried out in surprise, and Danarius chuckled darkly. Fenris panicked, his heart rate spiking, and Danarius tossed him on the bed, pinning him to it.

“Wh-what is this?!” he cried as Danarius moved to suck on his neck.

“When I healed you... I took some of your blood...” he murmured, satisfied with the way Fenris trembled when he stroked his skin, knowing the way his tattoos lit up made him uncomfortable, “Now I can use it to control you... It's blood magic.” Fenris had heard of blood magic. It was a crude and dangerous school that involved dealing with demons, and it allowed the user to take control of the victim's body and absorb life force from both the living and the dead. It was a disgusting aberration to most typical mages, but Danarius wasn't a typical mage.

“No... No, no, no!” he yelled, and Danarius clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Shh,” he purred in his smooth, saccharine tone, “No yelling, or you'll wake Hadriana. If you would do this willingly, then I wouldn't have to force you. When I'm done with you, you'll obey any order I give without question. Now, I have an easier way to deal with this,” he pulled Fenris's arms up and tied his wrists to the headboard. Fenris immediately felt the blood magic relinquish him and he struggled, his tattoos lighting in anger, increasing his strength, and he shouted frustratedly when even that wasn't enough to get him free.

“You know, I had very specific criteria when I chose you. Besides being skillful with a sword, I wanted someone young and untouched. I rather enjoy being the first one to break my new slaves in. I'm the only person you'll ever know intimately. Your first and your last.”

Danarius knelt, pinning his legs down and started stripping frantically, his excitement clear in the expression on his face and the heavy erection he exposed. Fenris struggled, pulling hard on his bonds, trying to kick his legs but Danarius' weight was concentrated on his knees, making it impossible for him to bend them. Fenris shouted when Danarius pinned him to the bed and pulled his knees up. Fenris struggled harder, making it difficult for Danarius to accomplish anything when he was writhing and bucking, and yelling, so he snapped a hand over Fenris's mouth again and gripped his hip. His tattoos lit up brilliantly and seared across his skin, his muffled cries becoming ones of pain. Danarius impaled him roughly at this point, satisfied when Fenris quivered and yelped, arching his back in shock. He tried to bite Danarius' hand, failing at that, instead digging his heels into the Magister's back. Danarius responded with more of his blood magic, forcing Fenris to lock his ankles together. Fenris gasped as it allowed Danarius better leverage, and he clenched his fists, still struggling to escape as Danarius rocked into him rhythmically.

“Mmmh... Does it hurt, Fenris?” Danarius uncovered his mouth, speaking directly in his ear, licking the corner of his jaw.

“What do you think?! Let me go Danarius!”

“Well, that just won't do. I'm your master, and you will refer to me as such. Don't forget that, Fenris.”

“To hell with you!” he snarled, and yanked on his bonds when one of Danarius's hands closed around an erection Fenris hadn't been aware of. “No. Let go.”

“Don't be ridiculous. I want you to enjoy this too.”

“No!” Fenris hissed, biting his lip to keep any signs of pleasure at bay as the Magister stroked him, refusing to accept that he got any sort of enjoyment out of this. An unchecked moan escaped him when he tilted his head back, and Fenris blushed brightly. Danarius chuckled, sealing his mouth over Fenris's. The elf didn't fight him; it was too hard to focus and keep his head clear with the combined sensation of Danarius stroking his erection and thrusting into him roughly, so he let go, reluctantly letting Danarius have his way. The mage was thrilled at Fenris' complacency and moaned as they kissed, thrusting harder, gripping Fenris tighter. Danarius bit Fenris' lip and cried out softly as he came, stroking him faster, and Fenris cringed as Danarius sighed, satisfied, filling the elf's insides. The blood magic freed Fenris' legs, but his pleasure spiked suddenly, and he moaned loudly and arched off the bed, his feet planted against the mattress, as he came over Danariuss' hand and onto his stomach.

“Uhn... D-damn it...” Fenris was gasping softly and blushing, ashamed of his own behavior, and Danarius kissed him one last time before lying beside him on the bed.

“Mmm, goodnight, Fenris,” he muttered, curling up against the elf's side, pulling the blankets over himself but leaving Fenris bare.

“Aren't you going to untie me?”

“Hm?” Danarius looked him over tiredly, and smiled a little, “No. You'll be fine like this. It might teach you some manners.” His head settled on Fenris's chest and Fenris growled, but didn't retort, knowing it would do him no good, and he didn't need any more shame or discomfort that night.

Chapter 4 Chapter Text

Fenris was shivering by morning, left exposed to the night cold while Danarius was comfortable under his silken sheets, his arms and backside sore. It put Fenris in a foul mood, left him fuming as he was forced to recall every moment of that shameful event last night. Damn this mage. Damn him for planting this seed of guilt and embarrassment! He must be sight, strapped to the bed, his hands numb after so many hours tied up, obvious that he was raped. He refused to admit he enjoyed any part of it, even to himself, as if denying it would change the truth. Danarius was no longer sleeping on him, as he had gone down to breakfast quite some time ago and left Fenris to stew in his disgust. Fenris glared at him in silence when he finally returned.

Danarius made sure to paralyze Fenris as the servants bathed and dressed him, the foul expression on Fenris's face never leaving. They carried him to stand in front of his master and combed and tidied his hair, vicious resentment apparent in his eyes as he stared Danarius down. The Magister looked amused, hardly intimidated by the challenge in his eyes.

“You do not have to do this to me. I would not hurt any of your slaves because they do not deserve it. I cannot say the same for you, however... And I can bathe and dress myself, Danarius.”

“That's no way to speak to me, Fenris. I suggest you shape up,” he growled, “I'm leaving this afternoon and sadly I can't bring you with me... Might make a bad impression. You'll be chained in the dining room, which will be your permanent location when we have guests until I've broken you. I cannot display a disobedient pup in front of my peers.”

“I must be chained? Why do you think I'd try anything after last night?! I'd prefer to avoid that mess again... Why not just lock the mansion?”

“Because Hadriana is in charge of you today, and you're still dangerously unstable. Hadriana lacks the skill and willpower to subdue you, and I cannot be seen with my apprentice until she has been made a proper mage. Do not roll your eyes at me, Fenris,” he snarled, gripping the elf's chin hard enough to bruise and staring him down. Fenris stared defiantly back, his tattoos blazing with hatred. Danarius scowled down at him, and the threat was clear in Fenris's expression that he desperately wished to strangle Danarius. Pain shot through Fenris from the mage's hand, and Fenris defied it all he could, doing no more than clenching his jaw until the pain escalated out of control and overwhelmed him. He screamed, still unable to move, but Danarius didn't let up. He smirked, allowing the paralysis to fade so he could watch the elf fall to the floor and writhe in pain, his hand planted flat against Fenris's chest. He fisted his hand in his plain, rough linen shirt, yanking the elf off the floor, finally relinquishing him from the torture. Fenris fell limp and his hands grasped weakly at Danarius's wrist,

“You should mind yourself, boy. Remember, I've left no lasting marks on you. I could have you subjected to daily whippings if you don't straighten out. Or worse... I could send you into the Fade. The demons would have you in seconds.”

“Liar. You can't...”

“Try me. Mages can always access the Fade, blood mages even more so. I have direct contact with demons, and it wouldn't take much to send you to them. Now come.” He dragged Fenris to his feet and led him to the dining hall, shackling him to the wall. One clamped around his neck, one around each wrist, and one around each ankle, his ankles chained together, all of them anchored to the floor. He couldn't move his limbs more than a foot or so in any direction, and the chain around his neck was pulled taught when he sat up straight, cross-legged on the floor. He wasn't going to be able to move, and had no plans to anyway, still waiting for the after-effects of the spells to wear off. Danarius stroked his hair,

“Very good. Now, I'll be back in time for dinner, I believe, and Hadriana will bring you your lunch whenever she is done with hers. Behave yourself.” Fenris nodded once feebly and said nothing. Danarius left, heading in the direction of Hadriana's room to speak to her first before leaving them.

Fenris didn't see Hadriana for most of the day, content to simply sit and be left alone, examining the room thoroughly. The walls and floor were the same dark obsidian as the rest of the tower—the only exception seeming to be Danarius's room itself, which was grey and well-lit with wide windows, and accented with red and gold furniture, making it rather bright by comparison to this room. The long table could potentially seat twelve people and was made of dark mahogany, set with silver dishes and goblets, all polished to a mirror-like shine. A silver candelabra stood on the table every few feet, and an unlit chandelier hung low over the center of the table, melted wax crusted on the metal. It would be nice to be able to sit at the table and enjoy a proper meal, but Fenris knew better than to expect that to ever happen. He was a slave, after all, and Danarius seemed concerned about maintaining an image in front of his peers.

Finally, Hadriana came to sit at the table to eat her lunch, and had a second plate of food in front of her. It only had a few pieces of bread and an apple, so Fenris assumed it was for him, but Hadriana simply shot glares at him on occasion, purposefully making him wait. He didn't know what he'd done to make her dislike him so, but he ignored her behavior and waited quietly for her to bring him his lunch. He perked up a little when she finished and stood up, carrying his plate.

“Oh, you want this? I'm not sure I want to give it to you,” she snapped.

“Why? What have I done to you?”

“Lord Danarius had been spending so much time on you... Since he got you, you're all he talks about! It's annoying!”

“And why would you be jealous of me? Would you prefer to be his slave? I would gladly switch roles with you.”

“Don't be stupid. A slave does not deserve more attention than an apprentice.”

“Perhaps he's just excited to have new property? It will wear off, and I will not be so important when I have been here for a while.”

“Hmph! I doubt that! He told me you were just his body guard but I know the real reason he bought you! He never gets close to anyone, so he bought you to fill that space. All he says is how perfect and beautiful you are, and it makes me sick.” Fenris grimaced. She was lucky his chains were short.

“It is not privilege I want! By all means, switch places with me! I would prefer to be ignored!” his volume now matched hers, her “spoiled brat” attitude making his blood boil.

Chapter 5 Chapter Text

It was one week of suffering, of Danarius's unskillful bandaging in the morning, Fenris's wounds open and bleeding as he worked in the afternoon, and scabbing over at night as he slept, only to start the routine all over. The pain was constant, and as Fenris expected, Danarius rarely let him go to sleep right away, using his injury to wrestle the elf into submission. Fenris detested kissing Danarius, hating the forced intimacy of it, and hated sex with him even more, but couldn't complain or fight back when Danarius's fingers were digging into his whip wounds through the bandages. He was glad the night he was on top, and even more so when Danarius chose to bend him over his desk because it involved much less touching of his wounds and he didn't have to look at Danarius or pretend he was enjoying it. Hadriana took advantage of his injury too, happy to slap him on the back in an apparently friendly gesture and smirk as he cringed and glared at her. She knew he was unwilling to fight back.

Finally, Danarius took the time to actually heal the wounds, leaving pale pink welts in place—he couldn't heal them any further—and Fenris was fine with that. Wearing clothes didn't hurt nearly as bad, and he knew lying down wouldn't hurt as much either. Not that he would have much time to lie down, because Fenris had to help the other slaves bring the food up from the kitchen and set the table while Danarius chose his best robes and his most expensive staff to bring with him. When he returned, he smiled at Fenris.

“Come, Fenris, I have some things for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes. Better clothes, and... A few other things.” Fenris' mood improved slightly, and he wondered just what he was going to be given. Danarius escorted him to the third floor and to a small room he had never been in. It was a weapons room, and the majority of the weapons stored there were staves for Danarius himself of all shapes and sizes, each one made of expensive wood, metal, and precious stones. Standing upright on a sword rack, however, was a long, elegant blade, a two-handed broadsword that was longer than Fenris was tall and polished to a brilliant, silver sheen. Danarius unlocked his bonds while Fenris was in a transfixed daze, and Fenris stepped forward to touch the blade delicately.

"I thought it suited you as my bodyguard. What do you think?”

“It is... Beautiful... But I do not know if I could wield such a blade.”

“You were a two-handed swordsman before you lost your memory. I think with some practice, you would remember the skill.”

“Perhaps I will...”

“And these are your new clothes,” he handed the elf a stack of black clothing, and Fenris opened them up, looking them over. “Well? Put them on.”

“Here?”

“Of course. Don't be shy; I've seen it before,” he smirked. Fenris scowled, turning away before removing the loose, rough linen, pulling on the form-fitting pants first, then his tunic over that, hooking the toggles down the front. His feet were bare, but he preferred it that way, as did most elves whether they had Dalish roots or not, and most of his upper arms were exposed, crow's feathers jutting up over his shoulders. The clothes were nice. Not silk, but high-quality black linen and soft suede. He buckled his belt, checking the attached pouches just in case there was something there, but he wasn't that lucky.

“You look wonderful in black. I will get you some armor to wear later. I will have to have it custom made... The blacksmiths do not make armor for elves very often, and you're very young.” Fenris gripped the hilt and lifted the blade from its stand, surprised by how light it was when it appeared like it would be extraordinarily heavy. He flipped it upright and gripped it with both hands, looking it over. Having his hands around such a blade felt right, the weight familiar to him. He should give the sword a name. For some reason, the name "Lethendralis" surfaced in his mind. But why? Was that the name of an old friend or family member? No matter how Fenris scoured his mind, he could not remember.

“Later... I would like to practice with it... Outside if I may. I would not want to break anything...” his voice was soft, almost mystified. Danarius smiled,

“Of course. I would expect you to be able to wield it properly if you're going to be my bodyguard. I have this for you as well. Here,” he took a small, wrapped package out of his robe, unwrapping it. He opened the box and produced a leather collar, embellished with letter that were likely Fenris's name in gold, the same twisting, twining white lines that marked his body painted on the leather. Fenris recoiled at this other “gift,” but didn't protest as it was buckled around his neck, resting the point of Lethendralis on the floor and lifting his chin to make it easier. Danarius hummed appreciatively, tracing the leather with gentle fingers. “A lovely new collar for my lovely little wolf. Now, to make this easier to carry... Here,” he retrieved a shoulder strap for the sword. Fenris buckled the black strap in place, and fitted the sword in its sheath.

“Now, let's go. We have a lot to do today.” He clipped a chain to the collar, wrapping the leather at the end around his hand. Fenris growled,

“Is this necessary? I will not leave your side, and you know this.”

“I'm making a statement, Fenris. That's all,” he stroked the elf's cheek.

“So you do it to impress your Magister rivals...”

“Don't be so sour. Come,” he tugged the chain and Fenris reluctantly followed, disliking being treated like a pet.

“I am not going to be tied to the wall?”

“No, not tonight,” he smiled, “I would like you to serve the wine to my guests after the servants bring out the food.”

“Why?”

“Oh, no reason... I want to show you off more than anything. I doubt any of them has a slave that can even hold a candle to you.” He stroked Fenris' cheek, and Fenris shrank back from that touch, only to have the chain pulled taut, forcing him to stay.

“So I am little more than an expensive decoration... Wonderful...”

“Mind your manners, Fenris,” Danarius snapped, “Or I'll whip you worse this time.”

It wasn't long before the luncheon was to begin, and all Danarius's best and most important guests were attending. Hadriana was finally included with his guests; even though her official graduation from being his apprentice was three years away, he felt she was skilled enough to eat with him in his own home with his guests present. Fenris took the sword off and rested it against the wall. The guests took their seats, only passing a glance or two in Fenris' direction in curiosity, and soon the rest of Danarius' slaves brought out platter after platter of food and served the guests in silence as the mages chatted excitedly. After the slaves left, taking their serving plates with them, only Fenris was left, standing out of the way, his eyes closed.

“Danarius... It seems you have a straggler...” a woman commented. Danarius smiled, as if waiting for that very comment. Fenris wasn't surprised; Danarius liked to make a dramatic statement.

“Ah, I almost forgot the very best part! I would like all of you to meet my newest and best slave. Fenris, come here, would you? My guests need something to drink.” He smiled back at the elf, holding out a bottle of wine for him to take. Fenris glanced up through his hair, his jaw tightening. Reluctantly, he took the bottle and approached the table, uncorking it, tossing his leash over his shoulder to keep it out of the way as he poured the wine into each of the guests' goblets. He did not look up at the other mages, who eyed him in awe, like he was some sort of prized cattle. The spark of anger that coursed through him was reflected on the surface when his tattoos flared to life, and a few of the mages shrank back. Fenris glanced at Danarius, who seemed satisfied with their reactions.

“Amazing! You managed to brand the lyrium into his skin! I never thought it would be possible!” one of the men piped, reaching out to touch Fenris's arm where the sleeve exposed his bicep. “And to the touch it's just like any other tattoo... Smooth, but the lyrium gives them such a pleasant sensation... I'm impressed, Danarius.” Fenris returned to his Magister's side, placing the bottle on the table.

“Thank you. You know, I think my problems from my first trials came about because I was using humans. Elves are much more resilient. Not as much as dwarves, but I doubt the lyrium would have bound to his skin as well if he had been a dwarf. That, and elves are incredibly beautiful,” he smirked, cupping Fenris's chin in an apparently affectionate gesture. Fenris grit his teeth and said nothing.

“His hair is wonderful... Was it always that color?” a woman questioned.

“No. It was a little side-effect of the lyrium brands. I do not know why, but it turned his hair white shortly after. And he's much lovelier for it.” Danarius cast him an endearing smile, and Fenris sighed softly. “Sit beside me, Fenris,” he said, taking the leash in hand. Fenris sank to the floor, cross-legged, and Danarius pulled him to lean against his side, forcing him to rest an arm across the mage's thigh to stabilize himself. Fenris felt more like a dog than ever, hardly visible around the table. Deciding he'd just rest until Danarius demanded something else of him, Fenris rested his chin on his arm, closing his eyes to doze a little. Danarius rested his hand on Fenris' head and started stroking his hair as he conversed with the guests. It felt nice to Fenris, so he stayed there for a while, finally nodding off at one point. He woke when Danarius rose after his meal was finished and stood beside him.

“Now, I have some things I need to tend to this afternoon. I shall see all of you soon.” He pulled Fenris along, stopping for a moment to allow him to retrieve his sword, and led his guests out, bidding them all farewell at the door. As soon as they were gone, Fenris spoke,

“Where are we going...?”

“I have a... Friend I would like to visit.”

He had never been outside the spire before then, and the brightness of the sun forced him to close his eyes and squint as he let them adjust. Finally, when he was able to open them, his eyes widened. Minrathous was in poor condition. The streets were littered with garbage, once paved with white flagstones, the homes of yellow brick and red ceramic roof tiles smudged with soot, many of them crumbling as if the city had been recently sieged. The tall spires of the Chantry jutted up in the distance and pierced the cloudy sky, once brilliantly white, now just a dark reminder of the city's former glory. It was no better than Fenris had imagined it would be based on the darkness of Danarius' tower. Shopkeepers peddled their wares of silk, armor, and produce on either side of the street and foot traffic and chatter made the streets busy, most of the people slaves of the other Magisters. Fenris grimaced. Some of the slaves were mages too, and it seemed Magisters would enslave their own kind if they refused to follow the rules. Fenris was bright and alert, taking in as many of the sights and sounds as he could, the tension in the streets among the people yelling and all the disgruntled expressions on the slaves' faces making him feel like a war could break out at any second. Fenris snapped back to reality when Danarius tugged his chain, and he realized he was standing and gawking. He fell into line one step behind Danarius.

“That's an expensive toy you've got there, Danarius!” a raucous voice called down the street. Danarius seemed to know the man who owned it, and they embraced like old friends. He was very tall—even taller than Danarius—and startlingly thin, his long, black hair reaching his waist and braided down the sides to keep it off his face, the ends tied off and affixed with a bead made of bone. His robes were black and red, a cloak over that in purple, and on his chin was a neatly-trimmed black goatee.

“Yes, this is my new slave, Fenris, and he cost me quite a lot, but he was well worth it. Fenris, this Magister Lucrystas. He and I were close friends during our training in the Tevinter Circle. He is particularly skilled at necromancy.” Fenris nodded once, caring very little who this man was, but it would serve him to remember Danarius's friends. Necromancy... He'd heard of that before. Wasn't that some sort of demon binding?

“Where are you two headed?”

“Magister Alamara's. I have some business to discuss with her.”

“You should be careful and keep an eye on your slave. She's been known to steal them, you know.”

“Oh, I am well aware, thank you. Next time I have a get-together you should seriously consider opening your schedule so you can join me. It's been forever since I've seen you.”

“Ah yes, that was today, wasn't it? Well, I happen to be free next Wednesday. Perhaps I could stop by?”

“Please do,” Danarius smiled, “Now, we must get going,” he tugged Fenris' chain and waved farewell to his friend, who inclined his head slightly.

Magister Alamara's spire looked very much like the one Danarius lived in from the outside, but her symbol was a silver wolf howling at a red moon on a blue field, and like Danarius's it was etched and painted on the door and hung on banners. Danarius rapped sharply on the door, and moments later an elven slave opened the door. She bowed quickly, and admitted them, scuttling off to fetch her mistress. A blond woman with rouged lips and flowing green robes greeted them. Her stance was elegant, her head held high, and she delicately clasped hands with Danarius in greeting. Fenris looked around her spacious entry all, the color scheme of the walls exactly the same as that in Danarius' spire, but her decor was very different: the paintings and sculptures made her home seem more welcoming, and Fenris examined a close statue on a pedestal beside him. It was made of wood, but not just any wood. It was a statue of smooth, silvery ironbark, which had to be imported from Ferelden or the Free Marches. He was surprised to see it, and wondered how she got the Dalish to produce something like this for her.

In fact, most of the sculptures seemed to be of elven make, though not all were Dalish. City elves had their own crafting abilities as well, and when he put his hand delicately on one of her other statues as she and Danarius conversed in the library, he could have sworn it was made from the wood of an alienage Vhenadahl. The oak wood had a sort of liveliness to it, even though it was long cut from its parent tree, and he could see symbols carved on it that he'd never seen used by anyone but the city elves. The paintings were not of elvish make, but were most likely Orlesian. Her books were most likely just as hard to come by, as Danarius didn't have a collection of them that was this large, though Fenris realized he knew nothing about books, nor could he read any of the titles or author's names. He sighed, frowning.

“Fenris,” Danarius glanced back at him.

“Yes, Master?”

“I have something I need to get. Would you mind staying here for me?”

“Not at all, Master.”

“You'll be a good boy while I'm gone?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” he rose, bowing shortly to Alamara, and exited the room. Fenris took a seat, picking up his chain and curling it around his hand.

“Would you like something to drink? Here...” one of her other elf slaves poured some water into a ceramic cup, and Fenris thanked her for her offer, falling back into silence shortly afterward. He ignored the other Magister, though she looked him over with interest. What Lucrystas had said about her stealing slaves crossed his mind, so he was determined to ignore anything she might say or do.

“Hmm... You're really beautiful. I can see why Danarius likes you,” Alamara purred. Fenris simply enjoyed his cup of water in silence and did not acknowledge what she had said to him. If he reacted it might put him on Danarius's bad side, and that was somewhere he didn't want to be.

“You could leave him and join me instead, you know?” she brushed his arm, his tattoos tingling, and her smile widened, “What do you do for him?”

“I am his bodyguard,” he said simply.

“I'm sure you do other things for him too. You're his personal servant, after all. Do you share his bed with him? Maybe help him relax after a long day?” Her words were dripping with lewd implications, and it made Fenris uncomfortable, but he didn't show it.

“You're not much more than a boy... How old are you?” Fenris was silent, more from not knowing the answer to that question than from refusing to acknowledge her. He set his cup down and leaned back in his chair, a long sigh turning to a gasp when Alamara sat on his lap, straddling him.

“Get off,” he demanded.

“That's no way for a slave to act,” she kissed him and he pushed her away, leaning back further in the chair, “I'll bet you'd like pleasing me more than him. I'd never humiliate you like I know he does.”

“Leave me alone!” he held her back by her shoulders, trying not to injure her, but she was persistent, leaning in again, kissing him, making like she was going to unbutton his tunic,

“If you won't leave him... Can I have a quick one?”

“Go away!” the chair crashed to the floor as it fell over backward, dumping the pair on the floor. Alamara pulled his head against her breasts, and Fenris decided if he hurt her a little, he could deal with whatever punishment Danarius would give him, because it would be far easier than if he caught Fenris having sex with another Magister, whether it was against his will or not. She had the first two toggles on his tunic unfastened.

His next move seemed like second-nature to him; a reflexive response to a dangerous situation, a skill that was tied to the lyrium brand on his skin. He thrust his fist through her chest, the tattoos burning bright and giving him the strength to break through her ribs and out the back, crushing her heart in his hand. She cried out in surprise and so did he, blood soaking his arm and spattering his face. She grew limp as her lifeblood wet Fenris' arm and tunic. He was done-for now. Danarius would surely torture him to death. Or maybe he wouldn't even be so lucky to die.

“Maker... No! No, no!” he didn't know what to do. He was shaking, tugging his hand to try and pull it back through, releasing the crushed remains of her heart, getting caught on the jagged edges of bone. He panicked, trying to wrench his hand free and push her corpse off of him, and it was then that Danarius stepped through the door.

“Master, It was an accident! I didn't mean to kill her! She wouldn't leave me alone, and I... I...” he yanked his hand free finally, shoving her off and crawling back, curling up against the wall. He flinched when Danarius knelt beside him, then again when the mage started stroking his hair.

“There, there, Fenris. It's all right. It's like you said, you didn't do it on purpose.” His voice was soothing, and Fenris looked up at him, his gaze wary and uncertain, “Oh, you expected something horrible, didn't you? I'm not that unreasonable, am I?”

“You... You set this up... Didn't you...?” Horror set in when the smile never left Danarius's face. Fenris pushed away from Danarius's affectionate touch.

“All right, I admit it. I cannot kill another Magister in secret without there being a scandal. Magisters duel to see who is better, but I have no desire to do such a thing, so... I can make her death look like an accident. I can say it was you, and that I handled your punishment accordingly, and then it will be dropped and never spoken of again.”

“But... Why? Why did you want her dead?”

“Because she is one the council may vote to the next Archon, and they even considered following the rest of the Chantries in Thedas and were going to make her the Black Divine... Because all the high-ranking clergy in other countries are women. But we do things differently here in the Imperium. Neither the Archon nor the Black Divine should ever be a woman. I will not allow it, when I have so much influence myself, and plan on taking one of those positions in my lifetime. She only keeps elves as slaves, so I knew she would be interested in you.”

“You used me...”

“Yes, but it was only for a tiny thing, Fenris... And you got to learn what this lyrium is capable of. Isn't that something?”

“I killed her!”

“You won't be in trouble, Fenris. You're my slave, and I won't punish you for doing what I wanted.”

Chapter 6 Summary:

Explicit content here. Also, I emphasize the "graphic violence" tag for this chapter.

Chapter Text

Even though she was a mage, Fenris felt terrible for killing the Magister for nearly two weeks, and even worse knowing that Danarius had been the one who made him do it. He was downtrodden and rather quiet most of the time, even forgetting that he wanted to practice with his new sword. Lucrystas was supposed to be here today, and Hadriana poked fun at Fenris for his lack of control when he killed Magister Alamara. He could do little more than glare at her, certain his master wasn't going to defend him, and he had no intention of being punished again. He started to see some of Alamara's more expensive things in Danarius's spire, like her ironbark sculptures and a rather impressive set of glittering white Halla antlers that Danarius had mounted over the fireplace in the dining hall. It took up most of the space above the fireplace, and the antlers were worked into intricate designs by Dalish hands over a lifetime. It felt wrong to have Alamara's belongings in the house, but he expected no less of Danarius. When he saw an expensive prize, he took it, and trophies were a self-affirmation of his dominance.

Danarius approached him one afternoon as he set the table for dinner, setting his hand on Fenris's hip and surprising him because he was trapped deep in his thoughts. His handful of silverware clattered on the table when he dropped them in his surprise. He hastily gathered the silverware up, and Danarius chuckled softly,

“Didn't you say you wanted to practice with your sword?”

“Yes. I still would. I haven't been able to yet.”

“I have a few soldiers who agreed to be your practice partners. No fatal injuries, all right?” he kissed Fenris's cheek.

“Yes Master.”

“Finish this up, get your sword, and come to the garden in the back. I'll be waiting for you there,” he stroked the collar around Fenris's neck tenderly, pulling on it to bring him in for another kiss, “Now cheer up. I set this up to make you happy.”

“Thank you, Master. I appreciate it,” he tried to muster a smile. Danarius left him to his work, and Fenris finished putting the dishes and silverware on the table, went up to Danarius's room to retrieve Lethendralis, and hurried down the main spiral staircase to the ground floor and pushed his way out the heavy doors to the garden. Danarius was there with Hadriana, Lucrystas, and two other mages Fenris did not know, the mages sitting around a table with a bottle of wine and sliced cheeses. There were two fully armored guards with them. Fenris's own armor was minimal—just a breast plate, gauntlets with spiny fingertips that made it look like he had claws, and bracers encased his forearms. Anything more was too encumbering for him and restricted him too much.

Danarius stood to greet him as Fenris approached them, and introduced the soldiers, but Fenris paid little attention to their names. He was intent on getting to practice with his sword, eager to feel the weight of the blade in his hands. The first soldier that was going to face him didn't seem very threatened by the presence of the elf before him, who was shorter and slimmer, while the soldier was tall and broad, heavily muscled from years of practice. Fenris wasn't even the slightest bit nervous as he drew his blade, and he swung the sword a few times to get a feel for her balance. He smiled genuinely as he appreciated the beauty of his sword.

He clasped the hilt in both hands and sank into a ready position. The soldier drew sword and shield, chuckling, amused as he eyed the elf, his amusem*nt fading quickly when Fenris lunged. Lethendralis sang as steel struck steel, and Fenris deflected the soldier's clumsy attempt to defend himself, knocking his shield and sword aside, planting a foot in his chest and knocking him to the ground, the point of Lethendralis at his neck. Fenris smirked, and stepped back, breathing deeply and taking a ready stance again as the soldier got to his feet.

“Careful, Marcus! My slave is more dangerous than he looks!” Danarius laughed. Marcus got to his feet, mildly irked by how easily an elf had defeated him, and this time he was quicker to respond with sword and shield, deflecting Lethendralis, overbalancing Fenris by shoving him with his shield. Fenris nearly regained his footing, but the second soldier stepped in and knocked his feet out from under him, throwing him to the ground. Fenris growled,

“That wasn't fair.”

“In a real fight, no one is fair.”

“Fine. I'll take both of you on.”

The trio broke into a furious clash of steel on steel as the soldiers employed every trick in the book to make Fenris slip up, one feigning an attack to distract him while the other lunged at him from behind. It only worked the first few times before Fenris began mixing up his responses to these false attacks, sometimes stepping back to get out of both of their reach, sometimes directly attacking the one he knew would attack for real. Other times, he would feign his own attack and at the last second threw one soldier off his feet. Danarius and his guests clapped and cheered for him, and it drove him to work harder, to show all of them how dangerous he could be, to prove he wasn't just a helpless slave. If he could only make a point to Danarius to keep him from thinking he had too much power over him, he would be satisfied.

He hacked and slashed and parried, his movements quickening as they continued, his tattoos starting to glow. He forgot Danarius's order to not kill them, and aimed for the gaps in their armor, lunging forward and kicking one's knee, breaking it and sending him screaming to the ground. Fenris silenced him by beheading him.

“Fenris, stop!” Danarius ordered, he and his guests rising from their seats, all amusem*nt gone.

“Why, you little—!” the second soldier took a step and Fenris thrust his sword into the grass. His tattoos sparked vividly, and he thrust his fist through the soldier's chest, Fenris's expression lacking remorse as he pulled his bloodied hand free. He fixed on the group of mages, all of which were standing now, some of them cowering away from the elf, and Fenris seethed hatred for them, his gaze concentrated on Hadriana and Danarius, pouring his resentment into his expression. Hadriana shrank back from his aggressive stance, but Danarius stared him down, unimpressed.

“Fenris, stop,” he snapped, “This is not how I want my slaves representing me.” He stepped up, standing tall over Fenris, who still held Lethendralis in ready position.
“I am not some weak toy you can toss around as you see fit and use for your entertainment.”

“Is that a threat, Fenris? Perhaps giving you this sword was a mistake. It was a gift, to make you happy, and you threaten me with it?” The blade kissed his neck, pressing to his skin, a single drop of blood dribbling down the silvered surface. Danarius raised a brow, unimpressed.

“L-Lord Danarius!” Hadriana cried fearfully. Danarius's guests sat worriedly at their tables, unsure how to interfere, but Lucrystas was quite calm, sipping wine.

“Silence, girl. He won't kill me. Will you, Fenris?” he smiled, his eyes boring into the elf's. Intending to behead him, Fenris drew Lethendralis back, and just as he did, he felt something. A tingling in the back of his mind, like a fly buzzing, and it made him lose focus for a moment. The sensation worsened, until a hive of bees swarmed his mind, a shock of pain making him gasp and drop his sword. He fell to his knees, clutching his head, trying to fight off the oppressive presence in his mind. He fought hard, and Danarius smirked a little at his effort, kneeling and lifting Fenris with his hands on either side of the elf's head. Fenris's eyes watered with the effort to throw Danarius out of his mind, and he gripped his master's wrists, making a soft, frightened sound.

“Apparently physical pain isn't enough to force you to obey, so... Maybe this will help me make a point? Blood magic doesn't just control actions. I can invade your mind and break you. I think a while confined inside your own head will keep you from ever speaking out against me again. What do you think?” Danarius continued to smirk as Fenris failed to fend off his blood magic, his grip lessening as he went limp. Fenris felt Danarius try to lift him off the ground, though the elf was too heavy for a man Danarius's age, so he cast a levitation spell to lift him instead. Fenris was panicking, though there were no exterior signs. He truly was trapped inside his own mind, unable to move, speak, or see since his eyes were closed. Fenris expected pain and punishment to come when he was taken inside the black spire, but Danarius simply took Fenris inside and deposited the elf on his bed on the top floor. He left then, resuming happy chatter with his guests, who had followed him and calmed now.

“Sorry about this grisly affair... I was certain I'd trained him well enough.”

“A wolf is never completely tame, Danarius,” Lucrystas commented, “Just broken.”

“And I plan to break him for good this time...” their voices faded and Fenris half expected the blood magic to lose potency as Danarius left, but it did not, holding as strongly as ever. He could do nothing but lie there in the darkness, the curtains blocking any sunlight that might brighten his eyelids. So Danarius thought this kind of confinement would break him? He would've laughed if he could; now that he knew he wasn't going to be maimed or killed for punishment, and now that the buzzing had faded and his head had cleared, it wasn't so bad sitting here in the dark and silence with nothing but his own thoughts. It wasn't good, but it wasn't really bad either. He let his thoughts wander, hoping to get some sleep at least. The bed was comfortable and he was a little worn from fighting. He sighed, relaxing further, and drifted to sleep a few minutes later.

He was naked, creeping through a pine forest, a heavy fog settling around him. A full moon was partially obscured by clouds, the bluish, superfluous light shifting as the clouds moved, painting a ghostly landscape before
him. His tattoos added to the surreal scene, their soft, blue glow diffusing into the fog.

A stag dashed by, startling him at first, and it leapt gracefully through the trees. Fenris crept on, straining his ears for anything unusual. The stag squealed in the distance, and was silenced with the sound of breaking bone. Fenris backed away, not wanting to see who or what it was that killed the deer. He turned to go, and the fog swirled black around his feet, the air growing frigid and a huge, spiny, clawed hand closed around his neck and shoulders. Fenris struggled, but couldn't cry out, his limbs feeling heavy as he tried to fight back.

“Where are you going, elf?” a warped, male voice sounded, and Fenris was turned and shoved backward against the rough bark of a pine tree. He cried out as he was released, finding a humanoid figure standing over him. Even hunched over, the demon was twice Fenris's height, its skin a gleaming bluish-purple, a pair of horns curving up from its head. It had a dozen beady, black eyes and was covered in spines, its head almost reptilian in shape. A forked tongue licked a row of fangs at the front of its mouth. Fenris stared up at it, shocked.

“What do you want, demon?”

“My name is Hubris. Best to learn it, I think. We're going to become good friends. And who are you, elf?”

“Fenris... But... What do you want?”

“You belong to me.”

“What...? But, I never agreed to that! I thought demons had to give something in return!” he didn't step away from the tree, however, not wishing to provoke the demon.

“It's only temporary. Unless you'd like to make it permanent.”

“Absolutely not.” Hubris chuckled,

“I thought not. Now... To business.” He sank into the ground, and Fenris looked around frantically. The ground fell away, revealing a black abyss, and he clung to the tree he was leaning against. A clawed hand erupted from the blackness, seizing his ankle and yanking him down, dragging him into darkness. Fenris screamed as he tumbled end over end, striking a black floor with a resounding SMACK, face down. Fenris staggered to his feet, looking left and right fearfully, ignoring the pain from hitting the hard floor. He heard footsteps in the distance, echoing in the black,

“Show yourself!” Fenris snapped, and a light illuminated the lavishly dressed form of Danarius, “Master...?” Fenris's brow furrowed. He knew this wasn't the real man standing before him, and an overwhelming urge to do something he desperately wished he could do to the real man overcame him. He reached back, as if he was going to grip the hilt of Lethendralis, but she wasn't there. The significance of this action was not lost on the fake Danarius.

“What's that, Fenris? Was there something you wanted to do? You want to kill me, don't you?” he smiled knowingly, and spread his arms, “Well, here I am. Do it.”

“But I do not have—”

“Your sword? Why don't you check again?” Fenris reached back again, and she was there, strapped to his back, and he was fully clothed now. Fenris drew the blade, and fell into fighting stance, pressing the tip of the blade to Danarius's chest.

“Do it. I know you want to,” Fenris's confidence waned slightly, and his grip relaxed just a little, “Now, don't be like that,” that smile sickened Fenris, “I've been skewering you long enough. Surely you want to return the favor?” he chuckled, and that statement was enough to set Fenris's anger ablaze, and he thrust Lethendralis home, growling, satisfied to see the Magister's blood coat the blade. Danarius' body sagged as he died, and joy overwhelmed Fenris. He moved to pull the sword free, and the Magister's hand gripped the blade. He righted himself to Fenris's shock, smirking, blood trailing from the corners of his mouth and sticking in his thin, brown beard.

Danarius's face split into a wide sneer from ear-to-ear, his teeth growing jagged like a shark's. He chuckled deep in his throat, the sound a demonic and twisted version of his real voice. Fenris yelped and tried to yank Lethendralis free, failing to break the Magister's grasp. The fake Danarius sprouted claws, the blade of the sword cutting his hands, droplets of blood falling upon Fenris's tunic as the monster took a swipe at him, but the sword was so long that Fenris was just out of its reach. The demon grasped the sword with both hands and impaled himself deeper, dragging Fenris closer. Before the elf could let go and jump back, those massive, clawed hands gripped his own, tearing into his skin and drawing blood. Great horns sprouted from Danarius's head and his back split open along his spine and Hubris burst forth, his enormous, fanged jaw gaping as he bent forward and clamped down on Fenris.

"AHHHHH!" Fenris screamed as those teeth closed over his left shoulder, crushing bone, his ribs beginning to give and his left arm going limp by his side. Hubris clasped Fenris's slender body in his massive hands, crushing him slowly, emitting another sinister chuckle as he relished in Fenris's suffering, his voice gurgling with Fenris's blood. Fenris screamed and cried and begged for an end but it was several long, agonizing minutes before Hubris finally squeezed the life from the elf.

"AHH!" Fenris woke, finding himself back in Danarius's spire, on his bed and in the dark. He touched his left shoulder, finding it intact. But the pain had been so real...Tears came forth unbidden and Fenris sobbed in relief. He swore he would never cross his master again if it meant suffering like that, and he almost hoped Danarius was there in bed with him so he could get comfort from the presence of another person, but as he attempted to roll over, he found he was bound in place, his hands and feet bound to an upright frame, very much like the one Danarius had used when he'd been flogged for assaulting Hadriana. He wasn't in Danarius's bedroom either, but in a dungeon, the walls lined with chains used to keep other prisoners, a bloody stretching rack across from him. The room stank of blood, human excrement, and rotten flesh, and the bled-out corpse of a man hung upside down by his ankles from the ceiling. His cause of death was immediately apparent to Fenris: he'd nearly been sawn in half from his groin to his navel, then simply left to scream as his lifeblood left him; the saw was lodged firmly in his flesh.

A woman sat peacefully in the corner, reading quietly. Fenris recognized her instantly, and his previous fear vanished. It was Hadriana in her blue silk robe, her long, dark hair swept back off her face. She was all talk and Fenris definitely wasn't afraid of her, so it made no sense why she would even be here; she loved the idea of Fenris of any of Danarius's slaves being tortured, but was too afraid to witness any of their torture herself. Fenris was certain he was going to be tortured here.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Be nice, Fenris. Lord Danarius doesn't like it when you speak to me like that." She didn't look up from her book.

"Well where is he then?"

"Don't worry about him. It's just you and me for now," she purred, using a voice that was far too similar to Danarius's loving tone. She closed her book and set it aside, rising from her chair. She drew a knife, licking the blade lewdly, and pressed it to his skin, threatening to slit his throat. Fenris glared at her defiantly, doubting she would do him any serious harm, then gasped when she made a quick slit down his chest. She giggled euphorically, smearing the blood across his chest. It was apparent to him then that she was most likely this pride demon that Danarius had tied to him was probably taking her form just as he'd taken that of Danarius. Anything was possible at this point, and Fenris grit his teeth as the blade nicked him again, This time tracing the edge of his shoulder blade. Fenris bit his lip but refused to cry out; it wasn't that bad anyway.

"Not going to make this any fun are you?" Hadriana frowned, "Fine." She fetched a black hood from the back of the room and covered his head, sinching it tight around his neck. The fabric was thick and clingy and made it hard for the elf to breathe, and it muffled the noise from the room, making him nervous. Pain arced up his spine as the knife bit into the skin of his back, cutting deep over his spine. Deep enough that the blade caught on ridges of bone and severed muscles completely. Fenris screamed behind the hood.

Hadriana flayed his skin open from the base of his neck to his tailbone, peeling the flesh back and exposing his rib cage. He screamed and shouted, struggling and squirming, but she'd tied his bonds well. She giggled, a high-pitched and maniacal, and sliced a strip of flesh away entirely, skipping back to her table at the end of the room. Fenris was trembling and still groaning with pain, and heard her set some things on her table, some metal things and something ceramic, but pain scrambled his thoughts too much for him to care what the items she had were or what they were for. Blood was flowing freely down his back and legs, cooling in the dungeon and setting a chill in his skin.

Finally, Hadriana yanked the hood off his head, smiling, and once again traipsed back to her seat, where she had set up a plate and silverware and a wine glass full of red wine. On the plate she had placed the strip of flesh she had cut from his back, and Fenris shuddered, closing his eyes and turning his head away, already knowing what she was going to do, and feeling too sick to look. He never imagined she'd be capable of doing this, and he had to keep reciting in his head that it wasn't real, it wasn't real, it wasn't real. A mantra to keep himself from breaking. This was the work of a demon. A pride demon named Hubris that Danarius had set on him. It couldn't be real; he could still breathe even though his lungs were exposed to open air. Hadriana sat at the table, unfolding her napkin and put it delicately in her lap. Fenris kept repeating the words over and over, and started whispering it,

“...isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real...”

“What's that, Fenris? Not real? You think I'd never do this, don't you? That I'm too afraid to hurt you?” she slunk from her chair, gripping the knife tightly in her hand again, “Tell me, then... How real does this feel?” she thrust the blade into his stomach, and Fenris gasped, his body going taut. She ripped him open, and Fenris' eyes rolled back as he grew light-headed from the sight of his own organs spilling forth. He screamed again, long and loud, until he ran out of breath and his voice grew hoarse.

He snapped into something else then, just peaceful darkness, the sensation of a real bed beneath him. The cool darkness of Danarius's bedroom in the spire. This was it, for real this time. Or was it? He wished he could open his eyes, to see if this was the real world or another tale spun by the demon. The door opened, startling Fenris, and Danarius entered the room. It had to be him; he was whispering to himself, and there was no mistaking the Magister's voice. Fenris heard him removing his clothing, felt the bed give as Danarius seated himself on it, and found he still couldn't move or react, though he definitely wasn't tied up this time, and he was frustrated as he wished he could at least try to fend of Danarius's advances as he removed Fenris's armor and then started unhooking the toggles on his tunic. Surely this was going to become something terrifying too, and Fenris just pleaded inside for it to be over. Danarius stroked the tunic back, and Fenris was embarrassed to admit that he would've moaned if he had a voice, the sudden shock of an outside stimulus after hours of being trapped inside his own head setting his nerves on edge. His breath hitched when Danarius's hand slid down the front of his leggings and cupping his manhood, rubbing and caressing him gently. He leaned in, kissed the elf's cheek, and licked the edge of his jaw.

“Mm, I don't think this will be as fun for me if you're not really involved. I'll let you go in a bit, I promise.” He smiled against Fenris's skin, and inside, Fenris cried out desperately to be released, to get as far away from these demons as possible. His hand closed around the back of Fenris's neck and he sat him up so he could remove the tunic, then he let Fenris lie back on the bed again and stripped his leggings. Fenris's chest was heaving, both from arousal and from fear, and his brow wrinkled when Danarius left the bed. He had a feeling he knew what the mage was getting, and Fenris was just desperate to get on with this so Danarius would release him from the blood magic. He'd even cry and beg at this point, but he hoped he wouldn't have to stoop to that.

Again, the sudden shock of contact after nothing made him suck a deep breath as Danarius lifted his leg and bent his knee, two of his fingers slicked with oil penetrating him firmly. Danarius never spent much time preparing Fenris, only taking enough time to make sure his fingers would glide easily before he withdrew them. There was a pause as he most likely applied oil to himself, then he lifted Fenris's knees and wasted no time in sinking deep, moaning and stroking Fenris's thighs. The blood magic diffused almost immediately, and Fenris arched his back and gasped, his eyes snapping open and his hands grasping at Danarius's wrists.

“Please tell me this is real!” he gasped.

“It's real,” Danarius chuckled, “I promise.”

“Wh-what was that?” Fenris demanded.

“What was what?”

“Those dreams... Did you... Did you put them in my head?”

“No, no, I can't quite do that. I'm not a Somniarus. Remember, I lend my power from demons, and I attached one of them to you to feed off your soul for a while instead of mine. Just so happened he was able to manipulate your mind a little. Frightening, isn't it? It's why I decided to use it for punishment.” Fenris braced his arms on Danarius's shoulders as his master pulled his hips back, nearly withdrawing completely, then pressed back in deeply. Fenris grimaced and whined softly, turning his face away as Danarius bent to kiss him. His slow, deep thrusts were maddening and shamefully satisfying, but Fenris didn't have it in him to be disgusted with himself as he moaned, even going so far as to offer encouragement by hiking his legs up on either of Danarius' hips and clutching his back. He flushed in shame and arousal, feeling helpless. His tattoos burned wherever Danarius lips and hands met his bare skin: on his hips and neck, along his sides and at the base of his ear, on his thighs as Danarius practically folded Fenris in half beneath him, making the elf grimace, nearly smothering Fenris as his tongue plundered the elf's mouth.

Danarius's kissing became a little more demanding, a little more rough, his teeth catching Fenris's lip and drawing a little blood. Fenris gripped Danarius's hair tightly, stroking over his beard and whining softly as Danarius bit the side of his neck. It wasn't entirely painful for Fenris, the bite making his skin tingle. Fenris grimaced as Danarius pressed his knees to his chest tighter, and Fenris whimpered as the position grew uncomfortable. Danarius paid Fenris' reaction no mind, his love bites becoming more firm, more sharp.

“Mmmm...” Danarius moaned, grinning as he held the elf down. His thrusts were still deep and forceful, and Fenris clutched Danarius's arms and back as he shivered through each motion, his head tilted back and his lips ajar as he gasped and moaned his pleasure, his arms pinned in such a way that he couldn't hasten his finish with his hands. He had to suffer through Danarius's lazy pursuit of an org*sm, the Magister enjoying when Fenris squirmed and struggled.

“Uh!” Fenris gasped when a zip of electricity shot up his spine and Danarius chuckled softly, doing it a second time, and then a third when he took hold of Fenris's erection, getting a sharp cry that time. He gripped Fenris's member firmly, but refused to stroke it, even when Fenris writhed and begged him for it, the elf whimpering pathetically.

“Please, Master, just finish me....”

“Why don't you relax and enjoy it? It'll happen when it happens,” he huffed, “I wouldn't rush it; when we're done, you're going back under.”

“Wha—” Danarius interrupted him with a kiss, obviously ignoring the fearful expression on his face. Fenris nearly lost focus in that moment, until Danarius found a new spot inside him that made his back arch. He cried out loudly, his skin coloring brightly, the discomfort of this position fading.

“MMN!” Fenris's cry was muffled in Danarius's mouth and he writhed, almost trying to escape as the mage thrust harder, moaning aloud. “MASTER!” Fenris cried, his nails digging into Danarius's shoulders when he climaxed hard, the sensation somewhere between pleasure and pain, his moans sounding high-pitched and pathetic in his own ears. Danarius followed him soon after, moaning the elf's name, finally allowing him to relax his legs. Fenris cradled Danarius's head in his arms, breathing heavily.

“I understand, Master... I promise... I'll do whatever you tell me...” he whispered.

“Oh, this isn't the end of your punishment, little wolf. We're not even close. I hardy think one afternoon is enough to drive home my point,” Danarius smirked.

“B-but, please, Master, I get it! I don't want to be imprisoned any more!”

“Goodnight, Fenris.” Danarius smirked, kissing him one last time before the blood magic started to take hold.

“N-no, please! St-stop...” Fenris grew limp and his eyes dropped closed, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

Chapter 7 Chapter Text

Fenris couldn't remember if he had gotten any sleep that night at all, only knowing the entire night was riddled with nightmares, Hubris taking tremendous pleasure in breaking the elf down and showing him his worst fears, each vision more repulsive than the last. He turned to his side, curled up, and started to sob as soon as Danarius let him go.

“You have two hours to do whatever you want Fenris, but I suggest starting with washing up and having something to eat,” Danarius said, stroking his hair. Fenris pulled away from Danarius's touch and clumsily stumbled into the bathroom, slamming the door shut, leaning his back against it and sinking to the floor, covering his face with his hands and weeping softly. He didn't know how much more of this imprisonment he could take, but he did know that no matter what he said or did, Danarius would keep him in confinement as long as he wanted and there wasn't a thing the elf could do about it.

Once Fenris had calmed enough to actually get something done, he crawled across the room, reaching the metal tub in the center. Since Tevinter was one of the richest nations in Thedas—even now when the city was a ghost of its former self—it had had heated, running water. The magisters had their own private plumbing, while the common city folk had public baths. Fenris was glad he didn't have to walk to get to one of those; he doubted he had the strength. He also thanked the Maker for his master's jealousy, and that Danarius wouldn't have sent him to use the public baths to be cruel because he didn't like anyone else to see Fenris naked.

Fenris dragged himself up the side of the tub, turning the faucets and filing it. Once it was full, he sank in deep, finding that the water was perhaps a bit too warm for his taste, but he needed it to clear his head. For the first time since he was first subjected to Danarius's desires, he felt disgusted. Danarius's sexual advances had always been unwanted, but it had never sickened him like the memory of last night's encounter. He couldn't believe his own behavior, and he knew there was more to come after this. Danarius wasn't going to let him get away easily this time, and the elf feared he was going to have to spend the rest of his life in this dreadful cycle; in truth, even though Danarius had hired him to be his bodyguard, Fenris was now more of a living sex toy. He didn't need Fenris to be awake and active most of the time to satisfy that need.

Fenris had to prove that he would obey any order he was given so he could earn the trust of his master back. He scrubbed himself clean after a while, getting out of the tub and drying himself off, dressing and trying to regain some sort of composure before going downstairs to get something to eat.

Fenris slunk warily into the kitchen, wishing it wasn't so glaringly obvious that he was Danarius' personal slave; his tattoos gave him away instantly. The other slaves eyed him, wondering what he was doing in the kitchen when he was ordinarily at Danarius's heels.

“D-do you... Happen to have something I could eat?” judging by what they were doing, they were in the middle of meal preparation, though whether it was lunch or dinner he couldn't tell.

“It'll be ready in a few hours,” the head chef commented. He was a tall human, a mage who refused to follow the rules of the Imperium, and he was caged for it. The only reason Fenris knew he was a mage was the engraved, silver cuffs around his wrists; they had been enchanted with spells similar to what the Templars used to drain mana and deflect spells, making it impossible for him to use magic.

“W-well... Is there something I can eat now? Some fruit, raw vegetables, or something? I... I am not allowed to join my master at the table tonight and he sent me here to get something quick to eat...” he responded meekly. The chef's brow wrinkled, and Fenris was certain he knew why. He must be quite the sight, behaving like a frightened child, his back bent and clutching his arms like he was cold, dark circles under his eyes. He could see pity on the chef's face, and it made him feel even worse.

“Yes, I think I can help. Come,” he put his hand on Fenris's back and guided him around the bustling slaves who were working hard at making sure every course was perfect. Fenris wished he had the focus to admire their work, but his stomach was growling and all he could think of was getting some food in him before he had to go back under.

The chef made him a plate of a few slices of bread, half a dozen lightly-seared asparagus spears, some cold, salt-cured ham, and a goblet of water. He snuck Fenris a glass of wine from a half-empty bottle, but he had to finish that before he left the kitchen; it was Danarius's favorite wine, after all, and since Fenris was being punished, there was no way that he was going to be allowed to drink it. He bowed shortly, thanking the chef, and padded off to the dining room to sit at the table to eat, hunched over so he was as small and insignificant as possible.

He just got a few bites into his bread when the chair beside the elf made a horrid squeal on the stone floor, making Fenris flinch, and Hadriana flopped down in the chair, slapping a bottle of wine down on the table. She was grinning from ear to ear, rosy-cheeked and sitting lopsided in her chair.

“How was your time in the dark, doggy?” she giggled, slurring her words a little.

“It seems you've had a little too much to drink, Mistress...” Fenris said softly, picking at his food and eating parts of it slowly, as if moving too fast might provoke the intoxicated Hadriana.

“Oh, acting all proper now, are we? Finally decided to use the right titles when talking to your betters? It's about time,” she took a deep swig of her wine, “Why are you sitting at the table, anyway? Dogs don't eat at the table.”

“Master didn't specify... Never said I couldn't...” he mumbled.

“Don't talk back to me,” she slurred, making Fenris flinch when the wine bottle hit the table, “Is Lord Danarius here right now?”

“W-well... No... I don't know where...”

“Then you have to do what I say,” she snatched the plate away from Fenris, and he grabbed for it feebly,

“All right, I get it! I'll eat on the floor! Whatever you want! Just please give it back!”

“Get on the floor and beg for it then!” she smirked gleefully, and unlike the last time she'd taunted the elf, he was in no shape to fight back. He dropped to the floor on his hands and knees, and he flushed with embarrassment that he was actually stooping to begging.

“Please, Mistress, I haven't eaten since yesterday... Please give me my food back...”

“Not good enough.” Fenris gasped when she planted her foot in the back of his neck, forcing his face to the floor. He cringed, closing his eyes, wrapping his arms around his head in an effort to protect himself if she decided to hurt him. Her foot dug in harder, straining his neck.

“I'm sorry! Please let me have my food! Please!”

“Hmmm... I don't know...” she looked the plate of food over, “A lot of this looks awfully good. Too good for a slave.” She picked up an asparagus spear and made a show of eating it by tilting her head back and lowering it into her mouth slowly, biting off the end, in full view of Fenris when he uncovered his face. He didn't want to have to sit here and watch her eat his only meal, so he closed his eyes and tried to block it out, which was entirely the wrong thing to do.

“Not going to watch, are you? Do I need to teach you a lesson?!” her voice was still slurred, but it made her no less intimidating, and brought back images of the Hadriana that Hubris had conjured, which made him cower in fear,

“No, no! I'm sorry! I'll watch you eat the whole plate if you want! AH!” his fists clenched on the floor and his heart rate spiked when Hadriana lifted her foot and stomped down on his neck. He could swear he felt something give, and at this point feared she was going to break his neck. Would Danarius be able to fix something like that...? “Stop... Stop, please...” he pleaded softly.

“Aww, is it too much for you?” she laughed, and her laughter was cut short when footsteps could be heard coming down the hall. Hadriana collected her wine, and she was gone a second later, taking Fenris's plate of food with her. Immediately his hand went to his neck to feel around, finding that nothing seemed to be protruding and he could move his neck just fine, but he was still afraid. When Danarius came to stand behind him, he gasped in surprise, looking up at his master fearfully.

“What happened, Fenris?”

“Hadriana was...” he paused and sighed, not thinking Danarius was going to take his side, “I... I fell... I think I hurt my neck... Perhaps... Master, I must've blacked out for a moment... I haven't gotten to eat yet...”

“I'm sorry, Fenris, but it's time to go back upstairs.”

“N-no... C-can it wait until tomorrow?”
“Absolutely not,” he clipped the leash to Fenris's collar and tugged on it to get the elf to stand up. Fenris frowned and followed behind the magister obediently. Once they got to Danarius's room, Fenris crawled up onto the bed, refusing to look at his master and folding his hands in his lap.

“What were you going to say about Hadriana? You can tell me anything.” He turned Fenris's face to look at him by clutching his jaw. Fenris only met his gaze for a moment.

“Nothing... Never mind... Just put me under...” Danarius seemed satisfied with Fenris's behavior and did just that, laying the elf down as he lost consciousness and sank into the demon's grasp.

Every day after that got worse, every day bringing on new kinds of pain and suffering, and every day Fenris begged Danarius to release him. The magister refused every time with a smile on his face and gave the elf a mock-loving goodnight kiss just before sending Fenris back into the abyss. Fenris thought Hubris would eventually run out of things to do to him, but he did not.

Fenris was lowered slowly, feet first and hanging by a chain around his wrists, toward a lake of... Something at the bottom of a deep, cylindrical pit. At first he was certain that it was only water—the fluid was clear and he could smell nothing—but as he neared the surface, he could feel a burning in his lungs. He coughed forcefully, jangling his chain as he struggled. His toe touched the thick, oily surface of the liquid, and his skin seared and burned, blood gushing forth as his skin liquefied. He screamed and yanked his foot back, bringing his knees to his chest, then attempted to climb his way back up the chain, but Hubris would have none of that. The beast sprang from a hidden spot high above Fenris and landed on the chain, jerking the elf roughly and causing both feet to drop into the acid. He screamed again and yanked his feet back, the flesh eaten down to the bone, turning the surface of the acid to a frothy, bloody mess.

Fenris was glad he had the physical strength to pull himself up the chain, though his grasp was shaky and he slipped again when Hubris growled and shook the chain, his massive weight swinging Fenris wildly. Fenris swung up to grab the chain again, and Hubris snarled a retort, snapping his teeth around the chain, breaking it, dropping Fenris with a splash into the acid below. He broke the surface with a gasp that became a scream, his flesh boiling and dissolving. The pain was overwhelming, mind numbing, and he closed his eyes and screamed, unwilling to look. It seemed an eternity, but it was only seconds before the world went dark and he vanished beneath the surface forever.

His eyes snapped open, and he was on the bed in the dark again. He hated that he always woke in the magister's bedroom, whether it was the end of the nightmares or not, and the only way he could tell that he was back in reality was when Danarius came to tell him to eat or when he woke to find himself naked with an equally naked Danarius on top of him, but so far that had only happened twice. He didn't know how long it had been between those times either. He made a note to ask the cook next time he was able to have a meal. Danarius entered, smiling, sitting on the bed and leaning in to claim a soft kiss. Fenris' eyes started tearing up before he could stop them,

"Please don't send me back this time, Master. Please... I'll do anything. I promise.” He clutched the magister's robe feebly.

“I know you will,” Danarius smiled, and started to open his tunic. Fenris didn't fight back, hoping that maybe this time he wouldn't have to go back to the demon. He was determined to prove that he would be cooperative, trying to be excited, or at least pretend to like this, eagerly stripping Danarius's robe. The mage chuckled, shoving Fenris back on the bed, devouring his mouth, practically stifling the elf's breath. Fenris was just grateful to be out of the dark, so he didn't complain, helping remove both of their clothing. Danarius was even more eager than Fenris had initially thought, because he didn't take the time to prepare him at all this time, and Fenris gasped, struggling a little when Danarius penetrated him dry. His nails clutched at the magister's shoulders, and he lie there grimacing, gritting his teeth as Danarius moved and his insides burned, but he didn't dare complain.
Fenris cried out when Danarius bit the side of his neck hard enough to draw blood, and reflexively tried to shove him off. Danarius crushed the elf to his chest, and blood magic took hold of Fenris, making his grip weak and paralyzing his lungs. He gasped, kicking his legs weakly, trying to tell Danarius he was suffocating. A scream was caught in his throat as his nose started to bleed and he coughed and spat blood, finally able to take a breath but finding his lungs were full of blood. His nerves burned and Danarius' hands turned to claws that ripped the flesh from his back and he bit into Fenris' shoulder with a mouth full of fangs. The elf's vision grew dark around the edges when he was still unable to take a proper breath, and he grew limp, hearing Hubris' laughter in the distance.

Once again, Fenris woke in Danarius's bedroom, and he cried out and leapt off the bed, tumbling clumsily to the floor and struggling to get to his feet, taking refuge among the silk robes in Danarius's wardrobe, slamming the doors shut, leaving a startled Danarius on the bed. Fenris hugged his knees, hiding his face, sobbing uncontrollably, sticking his fingers in his ears when he couldn't stop the demon's laughter.

“Fenris?” Danarius came to the wardrobe.

“Go away! Leave me alone!”

“It's all right, Fenris. It's over. I'm not going to put you back under.”

“I don't believe you!” the last vision he had came to mind, where he thought he was back in the real world and it turned out not to be true. He didn't know how to differentiate any more. The wardrobe door opened and light spilled in from the bedroom. Fenris flinched and tightened his grip on his legs when Danarius' hand came to rest on his arm.

“Come out, Fenris. It's been two weeks. I promise, we're done. You haven't eaten in days. Come downstairs and have dinner with me.” Food was tempting... But what if it was another trap? What if Hubris was luring him in, trying to get him to be comfortable, and then destroy him again? But even if that was the case, there was very little he could do about it. He supposed he had no choice but to try and hope for the best. He glanced over his knees, seeing Danarius's extended hand, and he eyed it warily for a moment, sniffing to clear his nose before reaching out to take his master's hand. He stepped out of the wardrobe, standing, refusing to look at Danarius as he followed him down to the dining room.

Fenris timidly climbed onto his chair, sitting directly to Danarius's right, and the mage called for food. A human female slave brought out plates of food. Fenris was a little surprised at first; there was a sizable steak and boiled potatoes, and beside that a bowl of sliced strawberries. A goblet of wine was there too. It wasn't Danarius' favorite wine, but its flavor was strong and fruity when the elf tasted it. He set the goblet down and eyed the food.

"It isn't poisoned, Fenris. Relax. You've had enough punishment."

"Forgive me, Master... That demon... He lured me in and have me false hope before. I am... Not convinced I am free just yet." He didn't look up from the table, and picked up his fork and knife, cutting a slice of the steak. It was wonderfully seasoned and juicy, possibly the best he'd ever tasted. He couldn't help himself, and he devoured his food ravenously. Danarius chuckled, reaching out to stroke Fenris's hair. Fenris pulled away with a gasp at first, expecting pain, but muttered an apology and didn't flinch again, even leaning against that hand when Danarius touched him again; it was pleasant to receive affection when he'd been trapped in darkness. The magister was pleased with the outcome of Fenris's punishment so far.

Later that night, Danarius had the slaves run his bath and the pungent scent of roses filled the room as they added oil to the hot water. Once the tub was near full, he dismissed the slaves before they could help him undress, and he turned to Fenris as the door closed behind them. He caressed the elf's cheek, and Fenris flinched at first, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow, his heart rate spiking dramatically.

"Help me undress, Fenris," he ordered. Fenris reached out with shaky hands and started unfastening the buttons on the front of his robe. He pulled the garment aside, and took it off both of his master's arms, hanging it on a hook by the door. Then, he unlaced the front of his trousers and Danarius pulled off his shoes, smiling as Fenris knelt to pull the trousers down. Fenris bit his lip when Danarius's hand settled on top of his head, afraid that he was going to ask for something else, and Fenris knew he wouldn't be able to keep his nerves in check if his master requested any such thing from him. Danarius made no such request, however, and allowed Fenris to rise again.

"Thank you," Danarius said with a smile, stepping into the steaming water. He sank down with a sigh, and extended a hand to the elf, "You should undress too. The water's lovely."

"You... Want me to join you?" he looked skeptical.

"Of course. You deserve to relax after all that. Now undress, and get in."

"Yes, Master..." he muttered, and unbuckled his belt, following that with his tunic. He looked up to see Danarius watching him hungrily, a lecherous smile on his face, and Fenris shivered, hesitating before removing the tunic, feeling like he might burst into hysteric tears. He didn't want to be naked in front of Danarius right now. Despite that, he peeled off his leggings and undergarments apprehensively, folding his arms across his chest as his skin chilled. Danarius gestured for him, and Fenris climbed into the bath. As soon as he sank down into the water, his nerves loosened and he sighed, leaning against the back of the tub, Danarius' feet on either side of him, his own legs extended around his master. Danarius caressed his legs,

"Feels nice, doesn't it?" Fenris nodded, "Come here. I'll wash you, and you can wash me. " Fenris reluctantly pulled himself out of his relaxing position and took the bar of rose-scented soap that Danarius offered. Fenris wet the soap and rubbed it between his hands to lather it, running it over Danarius's chest and under his arms, making circles on his skin as he massaged the soap in. Danarius hummed happily. He lifted his chin as Fenris worked up his neck, rubbing his graying beard and hair, then down his arms and to his hands, cleaning between his fingers. Danarius stood up then, and Fenris swallowed, staring down at the surface of the water.

“The rest of me now, Fenris.” That salacious grin worried Fenris, but he stood too and continued his washing, down his master's back and stomach, hesitating to go any further, but only for a moment, assuming he would be punished for hesitating. He washed over his groin and backside quickly, fearing arousing him, and was quick to move on to his legs, kneeling again, rinsing his hands and the bar of soap when he was finished. He stood up again, and Danarius took the soap from him, surprising Fenris when he dumped a bucket of warm water over the elf's head to wet him better before continuing, starting at the top of his head, washing his hair, pointed ears, and shoulders. Fenris closed his eyes. It felt good until Danarius' hands passed over his chest, his tattoos tingling uncomfortably. He grimaced and tightened his jaw as Danarius continued, gasping and gripping his shoulders when Danarius took a firm grip on his member, stroking just enough to make his tattoos react. Fenris hid his face against the side of Danarius neck, a tremor seizing him.

“Please don't...” he pleaded, “Please, I just... I want to finish this and go to bed... It hurts. Everything hurts...”

“You're my property. I'll do what I want with you.”

“I know. I know...” his voice grew softer, “That's why I was asking... Begging...” He stifled a soft sob when a soapy hand slid down his lower back and between his cheeks and pulled him closer, Fenris's last experience with the demon coming to mind. There was no way the soap was going to be enough lubrication, and there was an exponential increase in pain without it. Even though it was just a fabricated vision, all the pain he'd felt seemed real enough. “Please... Just leave me be tonight. I'll do whatever you want otherwise. Just not tonight, Master.”

“Oh, all right,” Danarius sighed, “I'll leave you alone tonight, but tomorrow you will do whatever I want without question.”

“Yes, yes...” Fenris nodded frantically, “Anything you ask for, I will do it tomorrow.”

“Lucky for you, I'm feeling merciful tonight,” he refilled the bucket with water and rinsed himself, then rinsed Fenris, “But you can't go to bed yet,” he sat down in the tub again, taking Fenris's hand and pulling him down too, against his chest, “I haven't had you lucid when you were in my arms for days.” His arms wrapped around Fenris's chest when he leaned back against his master, and he tilted Fenris's head up and to one side to kiss him. Fenris felt sleepy as he rested in the warm bath, returning the kiss, relaxing finally, happy to curl up to Danarius, and when they finally went to bed, Fenris curled up to Danarius's back, slinging an arm over his side, spooning with him, which he knew satisfied the magister. He was asleep before Danarius got completely settled.

Chapter 8 Notes:

This chapter contains explicit content.

Chapter Text

Fenris sat at the table, eating his meager lunch, glad to be out of confinement for his actions against his master and the soldiers. He sighed, sipping his water, flinching when he saw Lucrystas come to stand beside him, leaning against the table. “What do you want?”

“I don't think Danarius would appreciate you speaking to his guests like that...”

“Sorry, my Lord...” but there was still little feeling in it. The Magister laughed,

“I don't care, but Danarius wouldn't hesitate to slap you around if he found out, would he? You're still a little shaky from confinement, aren't you?” Fenris said nothing. Lucrystas continued, “I've heard some of the other slaves talk about how lucky you are, being Danarius' personal slave and bodyguard. They think it must be quite luxurious, spending all your time going where he goes, sleeping where he sleeps, and eating what he eats. They think it's a great privilege they would like to have. So what do you think? Spending your time with him... On your knees for him. Do you feel... privileged?” His tone was dark and serious.

“No.” Fenris never looked up to meet his eyes, only focusing on his food, “I would prefer to spend my time in the kitchens, cleaning the spire, anything but what I do now. Might be a waste of my swordsmanship, but I'd prefer it.”

“You're not the first, you know. Danarius has had many slaves just like you over the years, except when he takes on an apprentice. He hasn't had a personal slave since Hadriana came here at the age of five. Do you want to know where the slaves go?” Fenris didn't answer, because he was already sure he knew, “Being a blood mage has its perks. You get extra power and it allows a magister to use other peoples' life force to bolster his spells without exhausting himself. I know he's used it on you. He did the other day. But, it has its downsides as well. With age, it gets harder for a mage to control the strength of the demons he lends that power from, and over time it will consume him. Danarius is no exception to that, and sometimes loses control. Sometimes loses so much control, he kills his poor slave. He's never been able to keep them for more than five years. Has he started to slip with you?”

“No... Not that I've noticed.” Fenris had stopped eating, “Why are you telling me this?” he glanced up finally. Lucrystas shrugged.

“I thought you should know. You're different than the others. Maybe you'll get away?”

“You use blood magic too, don't you, my Lord?”

“Oh, no, no. Dreamers don't need to use blood magic. They can enslave people's minds, control their actions, kill them with ease...” Fenris had heard so little of them from Danarius, it made him curious.

“What exactly is a Dreamer?” Lucrystas smiled, “The original Dreamers, the Somniari, were able to communicate with the Old Gods. They can enter the Fade whenever they want and shape it to their liking. They can affect the dreams of sleeping people and enslave them. Most blood mages can intrude on people's minds and control their bodies, but Dreamers can truly break them. It's also rumored the Dreamers became the first Darkspawn when they set foot in the Maker's Golden Kingdom. When the Imperium switched to Andrastian worship, most of the Dreamers that were left were killed, and so the old families that used to have Dreamer blood were elevated to high society Altus status. Two-thirds of the Magisters are descended from the original Dreamers, but only one has shown the actual ability itself.”

“And you are that one...”

“Yes. I don't need to practice blood magic, and I don't abuse my slaves either. They know better, they know what I could do, and so they work hard to stay on my good side. I also don't want to end up like Danarius. Eventually his magic will consume and destroy him, or his slaves will. I can resurrect the dead, but that doesn't require dealing with demons under most circ*mstances. Enslaving them against their will, but not bargaining. And no, Danarius isn't a Dreamer. You'd know if he was. He can use blood magic to imitate what I do, but it isn't the same,” he stood behind Fenris, setting his hands on the elf's shoulders, leaning in to whisper to him,

“Be happy he's not a Dreamer and all he can do is force you to do his bidding with blood magic or kill you. You'd go mad. He'd turn you into a babbling, paranoid fool with as often as he loses control over himself. Dreamers are often killed by demons, so they must be vigilant and strong. Don't tell him I said this, but it's something your master lacks. He's always been too eager to increase his power,” he chuckled and righted himself, “And I have discovered the ancient Elvhen secret of preserving one's youth by resting in the Fade, though it's not immortality like you elves used to possess, just a temporary solution. Danarius and I are the same age, and yet I look considerably younger, yes?” It was true. His hair was dark and glossy as raven feathers without so much as a hint of gray, not a wrinkle painting his face, and his steps were spry and lively, while Danarius was showing the obvious signs of graying and age, some of which were hastened by his use of blood magic.

“So... You do not use magic on your slaves...”

“Not usually, no. I don't have to. I save my talents for things that benefit me."

“Being your slave seems easy when compared to this.”

“Don't think I'll save you. I don't just purchase slaves out of pity, and Danarius is a good friend of mine. I'd rather not destroy that. You're his favorite, after all, and wouldn't surrender you to anyone.”

“I know.”

In the months that followed, Fenris began to expect Danarius to want sex regularly, and even caught himself feeling sad the nights they simply went to bed. When he realized he'd grown to expect and even anticipate a rough f*ck before bed, it made his stomach flip. He threw up that night, disgusted with himself for ever craving Danarius's touch. Danarius often put Fenris's mouth to work, usually during the day while the Magister was in his study so Fenris could sit under his desk and suck him off. He showered the elf in compliments on how good he was, and in that Fenris took a small measure of pride. It might have been a little thing, but it was some sort of power over Danarius, and it satisfied Fenris to tease him until he demanded that Fenris finish him. Some days, however, Danarius was rough with him, gripping his ears and pulling too much, forcing himself down the elf's throat. Fenris had nearly vomited on more than one occasion during these assaults, but after six months, Fenris was able to muscle past his gag reflex entirely, which saved him some grief from Danarius.

Fenris eventually accompanied his master and Hadriana on a trip south to Danarius's vacation home in Kirkwall, their travel taking more than a month. He wasn't allowed to bring his sword or his armor, and he missed both of them before they had even left Minrathous. Fenris tucked his overgrown hair behind his ears and looked on in awe as they entered Kirkwall, stunned by the tall, expansive, white walls, stark and cold compared to the warm color of the surrounding terrain. The enormous bronze statues of captive slaves made him shiver and touch his collar, which was far too much like the ones the statues wore.

“This used to be the central trade hub for the Imperium when it was at its peak, Fenris. Hundreds of thousands of slaves have passed through this city, until the Free Marches became its own independent nation and outlawed slavery.”

“Slavery... Is illegal here?” Fenris had thought it was a normal thing, in every corner of the world, and it made him wish he was born in a different region of Thedas.

“It's illegal everywhere as far as I know, except in Tevinter, though that doesn't mean people still aren't sold as slaves here. Since I'm only a temporary resident of Kirkwall, they cannot stop me from bringing you. So stay close, little wolf,” he smiled, twisting Fenris' leash tighter around his hand. Hadriana smirked,

“Don't get your hopes up. Lord Danarius' reputation gets him respect in every region of the world. No one would even dare to try and 'save' you.” Fenris rolled his eyes at her.

“Not every region, my dear,” Danarius chuckled, “But thank you. I'm meeting some friends for a few drinks at the Blooming Rose, so we need to get going.” Fenris followed obediently, keeping far away from Hadriana, taking in the sights and sounds of the city, only stopping and pulling back when he discovered the location of the Blooming Rose was the Red Lantern District.

“It's... A brothel.”

“Relax, Fenris. I'm not going to give you to anyone else. They couldn't pay me enough for the chance to lie with you for a night, but stay close. A lovely thing like you might go missing in a place like this. You can be quite intimidating sometimes, but these people love something new and different. Come.”

“Yes, Master...” he mumbled, and followed Danarius inside. It was warm inside, welcoming where the city was not. Though the walls were grey, there were red velvet carpets and red furniture, the wooden chairs finished with gold edges. The people were lively, the workers of the brothel easy to spot as most of them were half-clothed, and Fenris felt surprisingly more at home here than he had anywhere else; there were elves, dwarves, and humans alike, both men and women, and it made him not feel so alone, knowing there were other people that were like him. Even though they were not slaves, he hardly felt there was much difference. They may get paid for their services, but they were still obligated to do whatever the paying customers wanted of them.

Danarius found his companions in a private room, six of them gathered around a fireplace, sitting in luxurious chairs and couches, bottles of wine and half empty glasses before them, some of them being entertained by a whor* here and there or eating fine bread or cheeses. The group greeted Danarius upon entry and the Magister introduced Fenris to them before leading the elf to one of the couches, close to the fireplace. There wasn't enough room for Hadriana on the couch with them, and she was forced to sit in an armchair across from them, alone. She folded her arms across her chest and sat in silence; she didn't know anyone in Kirkwall.

“It's been a long time, Danarius,” a red-haired woman smiled at him. Danarius chatted with her, and Fenris stared into the fireplace, ignoring most of the people in the room, watching the flames dance and twist. He glanced at the bottles of wine and licked his lips.

“Master...” he tapped the Magister's shoulder, “May I have some wine?”

“Yes, you may,” he said with a smile and returned to his conversation. Fenris took the bottle closest to him and poured himself a glass, downing it quickly. He poured a second and sipped on that, deciding he needed to take it slow and not get too carried away. He didn't know what Danarius would think of him getting drunk. Hadriana followed Fenris' example, getting some wine for herself, not asking Danarius for permission. Not that she needed it, but she was clearly unhappy with being overshadowed by a slave. Fenris's thoughts wandered as he took to staring in the fire again, and he imagined what it might be like to live somewhere else in the world. Anywhere else. Even here in Kirkwall, as long as he was a free man, able to come and go as he pleased. He doubted that was ever going to happen, and that he was going to be Danarius' slave for a very, very long time. Perhaps if he outlived his master he could go free... But Lucrystas's words came back to him. Danarius tended to kill his bodyguards, and after only five years. Fenris had been here one-and-a-half. Four more years would pass in an instant. He shivered, and poured himself more wine. Fenris finished a bottle and a half by himself, and was slouching on the arm of the couch, the warmth of the fire bringing a lazy smile to his face, his mind pleasantly blank as he watched the fire dance. The conversations in the room fell on his ears as a very uniform drone, sounding strangely muffled to him. He also grew tired in addition to being comfortably warm and he stretched and yawned, gasping in surprise when Danarius's arm draped across his shoulders and pulled him close. Fenris chuckled softly as he nearly fell over into Danarius's lap, meeting the Magister's eyes with a lopsided grin on his face. “Hm, perhaps you should stop drinking, little wolf,” he smiled, “I don't want you to get sick.”

“I've already stopped,” Fenris slurred, finding it was much easier to be affectionate when he couldn't think clearly. He fell into Danarius's lap then, scoffing as he had to sweep his hair back off his face, which had grown past his shoulders now. “Master... I do not like my hair this long... It gets in the way...” He frowned. He wouldn't have voiced displeasure about anything without having a drink in him. Danarius ran his fingers through Fenris's ivory hair, smiling.

“Well I do like it this way. You won't be cutting it.” Fenris nodded, accepting his statement. He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering, feeling more like a dog than ever as he pressed close to Danarius and the Magister's hand settled on his shoulder and pet him.

“It's cold over here...” Fenris mumbled.

“Grab my cloak from the rack.” He gestured behind him. Fenris spotted it, and jumped over the back of the couch, staggering as he landed and falling on one knee. He grabbed the cloak and pulled it down, the fabric falling around him, and he slung it across his shoulders as he stood up and returned to his master's side. He only glanced Hadriana's way for a moment, noting the disapproval on her face but was far too inebriated to care. He pulled the cloak off, feeling like he was wearing thick gloves as he clumsily manipulated it to lay over himself when he got back on the couch, but Danarius tugged the back of his tunic and pulled him into his lap, wrapping his arms around the elf and planting a kiss on his cheek. Fenris pulled the heavy, black velvet cloak close, snuggling the soft, fur ruff to his neck and face, leaning against the arm of the couch, one arm behind Danarius's shoulders and the other splayed across the arm of the chair.

“Hmm, you always have such beautiful slaves, Danarius,” the red-haired woman purred, reaching out to stroke Fenris's silver hair, surprising the elf as he wasn't used to being touched by anyone other than his master. Danarius smiled and his hand rested on Fenris's thigh under the cloak,

“I'm a privileged man. Mothers trip over each other to apprentice their children to me, and slavers line up to show me their wares with a snap of my fingers. I was lucky to find this one, though. He's quite special to me.” Even in his inebriated state, Fenris didn't like being talked about like a possession, and he sighed and frowned, knowing that was exactly what he was.

“I'd pay you well if you'd consider letting me borrow him for the night.” Fenris' eyes widened, and he looked up at Danarius, hoping he wasn't going to change his mind about loaning him out.

“I suppose that might depend on how much. And probably not tonight.”

“I'd pay a thousand Sovereigns.” Fenris held his breath. The most expensive whor*s here only commanded two Sovereigns. He didn't know what Danarius had paid for him initially.

“Well. It's hard to say no to that kind of price, Maude...” Danarius seemed to consider it for a while, and Fenris looked up at him, worried. Danarius took in the fearful expression for a moment, “In any case, it won't be tonight. We only just arrived and I haven't had much of him to myself lately. I'm here for a few weeks, and you know where I live.”

“Well, just let me know if you reconsider.”

“I will.” They left the Rose a short while later, Fenris putting his hand on Danarius's shoulder to help himself walk straighter. Hadriana scowled in silence as they found Danarius' mansion, and the Magister unlocked the door and led them in. It was much more spacious than the spire back in Minrathous, the entryway high and the main hall lengthy and cavernous. Everything was neat and orderly, the rooms sparkling from top to bottom. “Hadriana, you can pick whichever room you like. Mine is straight up the stairs here. Now, I'm going to turn in for the night. I think Fenris needs to lie down. He's had too much to drink.”

“Hmh, perhaps just a little...” Fenris muttered, his mood spoiled by the possibility he might be sold like a whor*. Hadriana sulked off down the hall to the other rooms, and Fenris followed Danarius up the stairs to the master bedroom, flopping face down on the bed and hugging one of the pillows close, disliking the way the room seemed to tilt when his eyes were closed. Danarius undressed for bed,

“You were in such a good mood, Fenris. What happened?”

“You... You aren't going to sell me, are you?”

“Sell you? No, of course not.”

“But she offered a thousand Sovereigns...”

“To borrow you. Not to buy you. And I don't see what the fuss is about. As I said, you're mine and I'll do what I want with you, and she's a woman. Why are you afraid of a woman? There are some things I can do that she can't.”

“I'm certain she's just as capable of humiliating me, even if it isn't in the same way,” he grumbled.

“Watch your tone, Fenris,” he sat on the bed and turned Fenris over, pulling him to sit up by the front of his tunic, “I could give you back to the demon if you'd prefer it.” Fenris cringed, his hand closing around his master's.

“No, no... I'm sorry...” he said meekly.

“All right, good,” he released the elf, and Fenris fell back on the bed again, “Don't worry about it, Fenris. I'm not going to give you to anyone,” he leaned over, cupping Fenris' cheek and kissing the other side, sucking on Fenris' neck, “I'm a jealous man. I wouldn't want anyone else to touch you.” Hearing that was a relief to Fenris, and his mood improved slightly, the fuzzy, warm feeling instilled by the alcohol returning to him. Fenris stretched as Danarius's hands wandered his body languidly, and he found that it wasn't so bad with the wine. Danarius sat up and tugged one of the toggles open on Fenris's tunic, “Take it off,” he demanded, and with clumsy fingers, Fenris obeyed, tugging his belt off and his tunic open, lifting his back off the bed to slide his belt off and toss it on the floor, working his arms out of the shirt, the sudden motions making his head spin a little. He stretched out with his arms above his head, a short laugh escaping him when Danarius grabbed his sides and planted an open-mouthed kiss on his stomach, sucking on his skin, the sensation tickling the elf a little. Danarius grinned, picking a new spot, satisfied when he made Fenris squirm. Danarius dragged his tongue from his spot on his stomach up to Fenris's neck, pulling his leash taut and devouring his mouth. Fenris sighed through his nose when Danarius stripped him completely bare, resting his weight on the elf and gripping Fenris's wrists, holding them to the bed. He plundered Fenris's mouth possessively and Fenris kissed back meekly, arching his back. Danarius released his wrists but blood magic held them to the bed.

“Mmhm... Master...” he mumbled, trying to pull away from his master's lips for a moment to speak, “I won't go anywhere.”

“I know. I'm doing this because I want to. Lie still.” He spent only a moment lubing the two of them, and Fenris gasped when Danarius forced himself deep with a throaty groan. Fenris clamped his eyes shut and bit his lip, finding his brain was muddled enough for him to feel and not think, allowing him to forget Danarius was the one here with him. He pictured someone younger, and he arched and moaned deeply. Danarius turned the elf over, so he was face-down against the blankets, repositioning his arms so the blood magic bound them behind his back, his hands clasping his own forearms. Danarius pulled Fenris upright and thrust deep, one hand clutching Fenris's hip and the other resting on his stomach. Fenris groaned, bucking back against his master, and Danarius chuckled softly, his hand creeping up Fenris's chest. His hand gripped the elf's throat lightly, just beneath his jaw, making him tilt his head up and stretch his long neck. Danarius sucked on his skin, forcing him to hold his position while the Magister thrust into him roughly.

“Unh!” Fenris grit his teeth and hissed, his eyes rolling back, a thin trickle of saliva issuing from his mouth. Danarius slid two fingers in the elf's mouth, his nails leaving marks in Fenris's hip as he gripped tighter. Fenris groaned, sucking on those fingers gently, wrapping his tongue around them, licking the webbing in between, and Danarius moaned in his ear, biting the pointed tip. Then, he grabbed both of Fenris's shoulders and shoved him down, planting a hand on the back of his head, and Fenris's moans becoming breathless gasps. Fenris managed to turn his head to the side so the bedding didn't suffocate him, and heard Danarius' moans escalate. The mage pulled Fenris's hair as he climaxed and Fenris whined, not wanting it to be over because he wasn't finished, and for a moment he feared that Danarius wasn't going to undo the blood magic and let him finish himself either. Danarius took a moment to regain his breath, humming in a self-satisfied manner and kissing the back of Fenris's shoulder, then flipped the elf over, muffling his gasps with a kiss, a hand closing tightly on Fenris's erection. Fenris moaned, arching toward his touch, trying to pull his still-bound arms out from underneath himself so he could clutch his master. “Mmmh... Mmm!” Fenris knew it satisfied Danarius when he was loud, and Danarius stroked him faster in response. Fenris writhed when he came, wrapping his arms around Danarius's neck when the blood magic faded, stroking the mage's hair affectionately as he gasped and twitched as the intense pleasure faded. Danarius rolled to his back, tossing Fenris a handkerchief to clean himself up, and he pulled the blankets up. Fenris wiped his stomach clean and tossed the handkerchief to the floor, pulling the blankets up to his waist and staring at the ceiling. It was a shame the drunkenness wouldn't last. It might help if Danarius changed his mind about loaning him out to people, and it definitely made Danarius more tolerable. He hoped he could get some more wine tomorrow.