samahl | for fenris

for fenris

Magister Anguis had once belonged to an impressive Tevinter household. Once upon a time, the name had had weight and power behind it. Now, though he still had the title of Magister, it was widely known that his house was deeply in debt. He had sold most of his estate and slaves in effort to save face, keeping only a small house close to the edge of the Starkhaven border and three slaves; one young maid, a footman, and his most prized possession, a Dalish elf whom he kept close to him nearly every moment.

The Dalish elf was called Cervi by the Magister but that was not the name given to him by his Clan. It had been years since he had been called his given name and though Cyril kept it in his heart he was rather protective of who knew it. The two other elven slaves who tended to the house were teenagers, Cassia and Viridi, and even they knew him only by the name their master had given him.

The summer of 9:40 Dragon had been remarkable so far because the south had been plunged to chaos since the Nevarran Accords had been annulled. They were at war, with mages and templars bring death and fire every where they went. That and the tensions between the Empress and her cousin had boiled over into a Civil War that ravaged the Dales.

Chaos in the South brought profit for Tevinter, and Master Anguis had wanted to take advantage of that. He had been so desperate to regain his family's standings that he had even crossed the border into Starkhaven. He allied himself with mercenaries turned slavers and preyed on those caught up in the chaos. He was so set in the idea of finding a fortune by selling the disenfranchised that he had even brought Cassia, Viridi, and 'Cervi' with him - ignoring the fact that technically once they crossed the border the three were technically no longer in bondage. To him they were property, and always would be.

The night was warm, but not nearly as hot as it would have been north of Vyrantium. Cyril was finishing up setting up a bath that he and Anguis would have shared. Cassia and Viridi were cleaning up in the kitchen after creating a modest meal for their master. The Magister was in his study going over papers that tracked the transportation of the slaves his men had found.

He had no idea that those men were now likely dead, nor that the one who had attacked them had found information on him and his location. No one in the house would have dared to believe that the Magister would not make it through the night.

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At the suggestion of the clans, Cyril feels a odd ache in his heart. A part of him wants to suggest they find his Clan, but he can't really bring out those words, not yet.

Thankfully, he doesn't have to. A young boy, no more than sixteen, peeks through a door to find them.

"Ah, Cervi. Here you are. I have clothes. They might be long on you, but you can roll up the sleeves." The boy is indeed much lankier than Cyril, but he doesn't seem to mind.

Instead he thanks the boy and crosses over to get the bundle.

Viridi can't really bring himself to look at Fenris, so instead he mumbles about going back to Cassia and then disappears.

Cyril gives Fenris an apologetic look. "They'll get more comfortable, but everything is pretty scary right now. The unknown always is." Then, after a moment, "For now, I should get dressed. Did you have plans for what we should do with the house? Should we burn it or just leave it?"

Fenris doesn't smile at the boy, nor reach out. He just keeps still and quiet, looking off at some middle point in the distance. He only speaks again when Cyril talks to him once more.

"It's understandable. He's being thrust into a world he's never known. I cannot blame him for being cautious. That will likely keep them both alive in the days to come."

He shifts his gaze to the house.

"Leave it. Let them find him, let them know what death is coming their way and let them be afraid."

Cyril looks for a moment as if he might say something else, but instead he disappears to go get dressed. It doesn't take him long and he does have to roll up the legs and sleeves for the outfit to be usable.

After that, he checks to make sure both of the young elves are packed. Now that they're ready, he takes them to go find Fenris again so they can lead the way.

Fenris might notice that while Cassia understands others speaking, when she communicates she does so with gestures of her hands and that Cyril and Viridi both understand the sign language well enough to have a conversation with her. Cyril doesn't bring it up though, and either does Viridi.

"I think we're ready to go," Cyril tells Fenris. "Do you have horses? There are a couple in the stable that I don't think Viridi would want to abandon..."

Viridi nods at that. "We should at least set them free too, if we're not taking them."

That does get an arched eyebrow, but Fenris keeps his peace...at first. He shakes his head.

"No, I don't. If you wish to bring them with you, you can do. Might as well, they could end up being of use to them, in the days ahead."

A horse brings a good price anywhere. Or, they could find good work, with a horse. It's a helpful bonus many don't have. He just hopes they won't be more cumbersome than helpful. He gestures for them to go to the stables, lagging behind a little to have a quiet word to Cyril as they go.

"The girl doesn't speak?"

Cyril looks at Cassia for permission before he answers Fenris. She gives him a nod and then leaves with the boy to get the horses.

Still, Cyril presses his lips together before he starts speaking. There's still too much guilt in this story. It isn't a good one to tell. "When I was first taken, it was shortly after I got my vallaslin. I was barely sixteen. The first week, I attempted to run. After I was caught, the magister took this little girl into my room and promised me if I tried again he'd keep hurting her. Then he cut out her tongue."

Fenris' lips curl into a sneer. He can feel the anger bubbling in him, the dark shadow of his memories with Danarius looming up around him. How many other slaves had he seen suffer for the whims of a magsiter? When one wants to make an example of them.

"I wish I could say I'm surprised. Magisters know no limits to their barbarism- especially when they can disguise it as discipline."

He wishes he could kill men like that twice. Unfortunately, the once will have to do.

"I will see to it that she is not shown prejudice against her for that. My contact will make sure she will still gain good employment."

Cyril is quiet for a moment. It's difficult to read the emotion on his face. He tilts his head a bit, considering Fenris carefully.

"You know that no one can stop her from facing prejudice, but it means something that you would think to include protecting her as much as possible. She's very capable, though I'm not sure how either of them will handle life outside of slavery."

He looked down at the ground for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "I'm not even sure how I will, and most of my life was before bondage."

"It will likely be difficult," Fenris will never sugar coat anything for as long as he lives. "There will be times when you will lapse. When it is all to easy to find someone who you can follow blindly- who you will allow to lead you because following is easy."

He'd done it with Hawke, for too long. He could have left the city at any point, but he stayed, because it felt better to have an anchor than to be left adrift without anything or anyone with which to focus on.

"Eventually, you learn to cope. I find taking each day as it comes a good way of learning."

"You.." Cyril began, uncertain. Then he stopped, realizing his wording was a little rude.

"The way you talk about this... You have personal experience with it, don't you?"

Fenris' whole body tenses for a moment, his hands opening and closing- trying to decide how mugh he wants to speak of. The old wounds had not completely healed, he doubted they ever truly would, but they were at least in a better state than they had been in Kirkwall.

"I was kept by a magister by the name of Danarius," Fenris' tone is clipped- stating the facts, the venom is hard buried. "He's the one who engraved lyrium into my flesh. He's dead, and has been for a long time."

"Were you the one to do it?" Cyril asks, voice very delicate. He doesn't want to upset the man who saved him.

"Yes"

It's with no small amount of pleasure that Fenris says that. There are times when he feels frustrated, that the killing of Danarius didn't remove the shadow that the man had left behind to haunt him. That he'd never truly be free of everything that was done to him. But the job had still been done. He had not baulked.

"With the very power he put into me, no less."

Cyril nods at that. "I'm happy you were able to have your revenge," he said after a moment.

"I was glad to have it. Happiness was a little harder to attain. Hopefully, it will not be so difficult for you."

He doubted it, but perhaps Cyril could drag himself out of this slightly less broken and bruised than he did. Perhaps, for once, the Maker would smile down on them. Or...whoever it was the Dalish had faith in other than the Maker.

Cyril wasn't so sure how to respond to that. Instead he just sort of looked down at the ground and wrapped his arms around himself. He really didn't want to think about anything other than the process of escaping.

Thankfully, the teenagers reappeared with two horses. Cassia was riding one, likely at Viridi's insistence that she not walk the whole way, while Viridi lead the other one. They had placed their packs on that one and secured them in place, giving them the supplies they needed for the trip as well as any belongings they wanted to keep.

"Everyone ready to go?" Cyril asked, once he saw them come into view.

Fenris took note of Cyril's reaction, brow furrowed. This would make or break the man. He would either emerge stronger for it, or he would become ever more broken until there were too many pieces of himself to put back together. Sometimes, Fenris wasn't sure which of the two he was- but he hoped Cyril would pull though it all the same. To have one of them win for a change.

"Sooner we move, the better. We have lingered here long enough."

Cyril can agree with that. He really wants to put distance between himself and the body of the magister who had tortured him for years.

The two teenagers don't seem to complain either. They all seem ready to set out under Fenris's guidance. It's time to head to Starkhaven.

And lo, off they headed to Starkhaven. Strangely enough, Fenris leads them through the city, once they get there- heading towards the palace itself. He stops at the gates, speaking to a guard in a low murmur, before they are waved through to the courtyard- where servants milled around, going about their business.

"You can dismount here. The housekeeper will see to your needs and get you into rooms for the time being."

As always, Viridi seems content to fuss over Cassia and make sure she's comfortably and safely brought down. He also takes the task of explaining Cassia's situation to the servants, letting them know that she signs to speak in an efficient way that doesn't bring too much attention to her disability.

Since he has handle on all of the unpacking that leaves Cyril to talk a bit more with Fenris.

"You weren't kidding about knowing someone who could help us," he comments.

Fenris watched them for a moment, milling about, quiet. Seeing how they adapted, nothing them interacting with the castle staff. They were fine, it would be alright. A tension slips from him- not completely gone, but a spring is unwound. He turns to give Cyril a wry smile.

"I spent many years in Kirkwall with the Prince, before he returned to his birthright. When I am near Starkhaven, he is only too happy to help any freed slaves in need to get onto their feet once more."

"He sounds like a decent man," Cyril commented. "And that's hard to find among the human nobility."

"He is, or at least...he tries to be. As much as he can. Which is about as much as one can ask for, from anyone."

He stands, watching the young elves settle, turning back to Cyril.

"What about you? Would you like me to try and help yo locate your clan? If not...Sebastian would welcome you here, I am sure."

Cyril felt as if every muscle in his body tensed at the idea. He wanted to go home, but the idea of facing everyone who once loved him was terrifying.

"I..." he started, but he wasn't sure how to continue. He couldn't say that he wanted to stay because he saw no live here, but he wasn't sure he could bring his damage back to his family either.

Fenris watched him, quiet, not pressing him one way or another.

"You do not need to decide right away. I will be moving off westwards tomorrow."

There's a pause, he tends to travel alone, he usually prefers it, but-

"...You may travel with me, for a while, if you wish. Until you have made up your mind."

Cyril looked up at Fenris, and for a moment seemed a little stunned. "Honestly? That wouldn't trouble you?" He really liked that idea, because Fenris made him feel safe. But he didn't want to impose on Fenris's mission or sanctuary.

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