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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.
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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He doesn't really reply to this verbally though, allowing them both to fall into silence again to enjoy the night. It's still unusual how comfortable he is with silence around Fenris.
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Finally, he seems to think it's time to tuck in. "I suppose I ought to try to sleep. This time at a decent hour..." He still feels embarrassed at everything he had admitted that had been causing him to not sleep.
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"That would be wise," he offers a smile. "I will sleep near you, if that still helps you."
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"Then for that, I am glad."
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"I hope you have sweet dreams, Fenris."
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"Sadly, that is very unlikely to happen, but I appreciate the sentiment, my friend."
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He settles down, and turns so that he can still look at Fenris. "If there is anything I can do for you, I want to do it. Please ask."
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He moves to lie down, on his back, hands folded on his chest, staring up at the sky. He lets out a slow exhale.
"That is good of you, but...I doubt there is much you can do. My nightmares lie deep. I doubt there's any way of cutting them out now."
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"I suppose some scars will remain."
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"They do. Some will never leave us, no matter how hard we try."
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"Largely? I do it out of my own spite. To prove to those who once imprisoned me that I am more than an animal with a collar. That I can't, and won't be cowed."
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"And I should stop keeping you awake with chatter. We have a lot of walking to do tomorrow."
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"...Right. Until morning, then."
i'm gonna fast forward a bit? let me know if you want me to change anything!
This village turns out to be large enough that it has an alienage and Cyril opts to go there to help learn some information about what might be happening. There are stories of merchants and travelers disappearing along the roads, which everyone thought were simply bandits or rouge templars or mages at first. The war had made everything more dangerous, so it had been accepted that was what was going on. However, when one of their caravans had turned up with goods intact but no sign of the people, the fear that something else was going on had taken hold.
It's a lead at least, and when it comes time for them to go out and find those behind the disappearances, Cyril hesitates to come along. He still thinks he'll be more harm than good in a fight so instead, he finds an elven family willing to keep him at their home for a few days in exchange for help around the house. He doesn't like the idea of being separated from Fenris, but is desperate not to seem too clingy, so he wishes his savior good luck, makes sure he has all of the supplies he needs, and asks him to try to come back in one piece.
While he waits for Fenris to return, he helps out the family as best he can. He helps the father patch up part of the house, he helps with some needed cleaning that they couldn't get to while working their jobs for humans, and he even uses his time to hunt again - eventually bringing food to the family that they share with their neighbors.
Mostly, though, he waits to hear news that Fenris is back.
it's totes ok with meeee
Worse still, he'd made a name for himself out on the road. Slavers knew he was there, hunting them- they'd invested in more goons to protect their precious stolen cargo. More heavy hitters and silent, stealthy assassins to try and do away with the elf that moves like a ghost.
They were goons Fenris dispatched all the same- left their bodies cooling around the camp perimeters in the darkness. He'd taken more than a few hits himself, the worst being a rather ugly gash along one leg. But he'd done what he gone there to do. He'd slaughter the slavers and their men, and sent the captured travellers on their way- to somewhere safe.
When he arrived back to the farm and sought out Cyril's room, he was exhausted. Normally, he would find himself another bed, or a chair, or even a spot on the floor to sleep on, but he forewent it. Tiredness clung to him like a shroud, and he bypassed his usually trepidation towards closeness and instead collapsed on the bed next to Cyril, exhaling heavily as he sank into the mattress.
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"Fenris?" he asked. "I... Let me clean you up. You're hurt." There was more than a little concern in his voice. "You don't have to do much. But that means I'm going to touch you." He had to get at least a grunt of permission before he tried anything.
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"If you wish. I have dealt with worse," a pause. "...But I would not push you away."
Because honestly, as stubborn as he is- this really needs looking at.
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"You know, you telling me that you've dealt with injuries while alone just makes me want to be even more sure to help you with them," he comments lightly. "To make up for it."
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"You do not need to make up for anything. My battles are my own, you need not feel blame or guilt for them."
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He brings everything over. "Can you show me?" He wanted to see the wound but he didn't want to force Fenris to be more exposed than he was comfortable.
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Still, he does as asked, pulling up his leggings, showing the nasty gash running up towards his thigh.
"It looks worse than it is."
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Once he's done, Fenris is cleaned and treated. He stands up to go toss out the water and clean his hands. "There you go," he explains. "You can go to sleep now. I'll be back once I have everything cleaned up."
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