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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A smile tugs at the corners of Fenris' lips.

"I don't believe that will help you all that much, my friend. Not in the long run."

Cyril rubbed his face. "I suppose if this is a dream, and this is the end of it... I should probably face that. Living in a fantasy never ends well."

"It absolutely doesn't. Reality is the only healthy option, in the end, though I do understand where you are coming from, honestly."

He'd done his fair share of that- thinking he was living a fantasy, that if he wasn't careful, he'd wake up, collared and chained to Danarius' side.

"But, when you wake, I assure you things will be as they are now."

Cyril considers Fenris for a moment before speaking. "I wish I could believe you," he says after thinking it over.

After a moment, he pushes his body up, forcing it to stand so he can head to the room they booked. "I'm not even sure this will work. I can't turn off my mind long enough to relax. The idea that I'm not really tired, that my body aching is something else, something he's doing to me, that I'm going to have to wake up too... It's..." He trails off, not sure he can even find words to describe that fear.

"Nevermind," he settles on instead. "I suppose I should give it a try."

Fenris stands with him. Hesitant, he raises a hand, resting it on Cyril's arm. Touch, never anything he gave freely or gladly, it truly cemented the important of the moment.

"I will help you, if you so wish it. Would you like me to...remain there? To keep an eye out while you sleep? It is of no great burden to to me do such a thing."

Cyril seems surprised, but very grateful. He offers Fenris a smile in return.

"Yes. I'd like that," he admitted. "You being around always manages to make me feel safer."

That's...nice to hear, perhaps even a touch surprising, that anyone can find safety and comfort in his general presence. Mostly, it gave him some comfort of his own, that he could do something to help Cyril with his problems.

"Alright. I can do that. Come on, let's go up to the room."

Cyril nods, accepting that. He goes willingly knowing that Fenris will at least be there. Then they just have to get ready for bed. By the time he's settling in, he seems anxious but at least he doesn't look like he's going to fight it.

"Is this the part where I wish you sweet dreams?" he teases lightly.

Fenris could be truthful. He could tell Cyril that he hasn't had any sweep dreams since the Lyrium brands- that, in all honestly, he can't even remember a time he had sweet dreams. He doesn't though, the aim is to settle Cyril down, not make things worse.

So, instead, he moves to get into bed, a soft smile crossing his lips.

"I suppose. I wish the same to you."

"A tall order for us both," Cyril replied. There was a tinge of sadness to the sentiment, though he didn't see as if he really wanted to dwell on their reasons.

Instead, he settled into bed and tried to get his body to relax. It was much easier than he would have thought it would be. It helped that Fenris's presence ensured he felt protected, even if he couldn't quiet the fear that this would be the last he'd see of him.

Despite that, he drifted off not too long after. His body was too ready to embrace slumber to let him hold back for long.

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.

Cyril sleeps much more soundly and for longer than he would have thought given how much anxiety he had felt about it beforehand. If he dreams he doesn't remember what they are were about. If left alone, he sleeps for nearly sixteen hours, having been much more exhausted than he thought.

When he wakes he still feels groggy but much better now that he's managed to sleep. He doesn't move for a while, though, as he takes a moment to process what he's seeing and experiencing.

He isn't back with the magister. He's still in this inn. He still doesn't have a collar on. This has to be real.

By the time Cyril awoke, Fenris had been up for a while, never one to sleep for long. He'd remained in the room, however, keeping his word. He smiled, as the other elf woke up, from his place watching across the room.

"You slept well. And as you can see, I am still here, and very much real."

Cyril offers Fenris a gentle smile as he pushes his body up. His hand moves to his neck, double checking that it is indeed bare. Then after a moment, his smile turns into a chuckle, which turns into a bit of a laugh.

"Yes, I can see that. And that makes it slightly mortifying that I basically called you my dream man..." he shares, explaining why he might be laughing - even though the pure relief in the sound of it is clear.

"I hope you can forgive me that bit of sappiness."

A smile flashes across Fenris' lips at the confession. He dared not admit it, but it made his chest feel a little tighter in the knowing of it. He hadn't allowed himself to feel like that for a long time- even his time with Isabella had been a dalliance, nothing more. He noticed the subtle touch at the neck, knew what it meant, and knew not to bring it up unless prompted.

"Well, that is something I think I can certainly forgive you for, it's an honour."

He stepped a little closer.

"How do you feel? You look better rested."

"An interesting side effect of sleeping," Cyril points out, still smiling as he teases Fenris gently. He moves to get out of the bed. "How long have I been asleep? Did I delay your journey for too long?"

He smiles at the teasing comment, a soft rumbling chuckle leaving his chest.

"It's fine, you haven't delayed it by that much- far more important you got some decent rest. Please do, let me know if you need this again, I'd rather you be at your best, than exhausted and frightened."

Cyril smiles fondly for a moment. "Thank you, but I'd rather you stab some slavers," he replies, still meaning it as a bit of a tease, even though the desire to get revenge is strong in both of them.

"So I'll get ready and we can head out, take up the mission once more."

"That much, I can absolutely promise you, my friend."

He nods, standing.

"Good, I can wait downstairs for you."

Cyril nods and lets Fenris go. Then he gets himself back in order and packs up anything remaining. He feels more awake and better the longer he moves. By the time he comes downstairs he seems energetic and ready to begin their journey again.

Fenris is, as promised, already downstairs, packed and ready to go. He's lost a little extra daylight, it might mean camping out after dark- but the weather is warm enough and there's no immediate threats that he's caught wind of. It's all worth it for Cryil to get the extra rest he so desperately needed.

He smiles at the sight of the other elf, shouldering his pack.

"All set?"

"Always," Cyril replies with a grin. He has to admit to himself that knowing that he can wake up to a world with Fenris in it makes him feel incredibly cheerful.

As they head out, Cyril looks around to get a sense of the time of day. "We'll have to camp out tonight, won't we?"

Fenris looks up at the sky, his head nodding briefly.

"We will, but it should not be that big of a concern. I have camped out in worse places than this."

Dingy alleys and fish-soaked brigs of boats spring to mind. Those were particularly unpleasant. Especially the boat one.

Cyril nods at that and concedes the point. He still feels pretty energic though, so when they head out he's able to keep up much better than he had been. The day goes by normally, with their travels keeping the same normal pace. They talk about nothing in particular but Cyril still can't help but enjoy being with Fenris, even more so now that he's certain he's real.

When they stop to set up camp, Cyril starts gathering materials around them. "With my Clan I would make traps that would catch small animals. I could try to make one again," he explains. "I.. I might be out of practice though. It has been eight years."

He still wants to find a way to contribute and he isn't sure he fully trusts himself with a bow yet. All of the muscles he had built up in his arms had faded from the strength of an archer to the soft, lightly muscled tone that the Magister had preferred. He doesn't think he could aim or be effective at all, but he can try to remember how to capture food.

The trap making idea is a way to bring something to Fernis that isn't gold made in a way he disagrees with.

Fenris was sitting, starting up a fire for the night. He glances up at the offer- it would be a damn sight better than trying to hunt something. They could rest and leave the trap do all the work. Far better to save their energy for any trouble they might come across.

"Certainly. That would actually be a very big help, thank you."

He offered a smile. He knew Cyril was looking for ways to be useful. Ways to justify his being there- hell, to justify him being anywhere. It takes a while...for that feeling to go. To let oneself just...be. He allowed Cyril this small thin without complaint.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

oh no fenris <3

here to break your heart :3

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject