Fenris doesn't sleep right away. He lies there for a while, watching Cyril drift off, watching his breathing deepen, his chest rise and fall. Cyril really is quite beautiful, he realises, watching the other elves face at rest. The thought settles on him and burrows into his chest, a fact that scares him more than any of the slavers he's faced, bar one.

Still, he watches Cyril sleep, until he feels his own eyelids getting heavy, as he drifts off himself, into his usual restless sleep.