Chapter Text
Fenris hated weddings.
Slaves did not dream of such things—especially slaves who were pets of Tevinter magisters. Weddings only served to remind him that marriage was a world he would never be able to enter.
He fidgeted in his new outfit. A black jacket with a high collar fitted over a stark white shirt. The sleeves were carefully tucked into matching black gauntlets. He flexed his fingers slowly and watched the claws curl towards his palm. The metal glistened in the lamplight. Finally, a pair of black leggings trailed down to his usual bare feet. They clung to his muscles in all the right ways, and judging by the appreciative look of the guests in attendance, they also noticed it.
Danarius had praised the tailor for making his favored slave look so good. For all accounts, Fenris could almost pass for a guest. However, anyone who knew Danarius also knew about the scowling elf slave that followed him everywhere like a menacing shadow.
Fenris, “the little wolf”.
He sighed and subtly rolled his shoulders. He had stood in the same place for over an hour now with the expectation that he would maintain his stoic vigilance indefinitely. Danarius had no best man, choosing instead to have Fenris at his side. Danarius stood next to him before the reverend father while a verse of the canticle was recited. The heady smell of incense, the low light in the room, and the drone of the father made Fenris drowsy. More than once, he caught his head nodding to the side as he began to drift off.
Finally, the doors at the end of the aisle opened, revealing a bright light that illuminated a woman in a radiant white dress. All eyes were on her as she slowly walked up the aisle, and in true Danarius fashion, he invited almost all the essential magisters and social elite. Rather than wilt under their gaze, she stood up straighter, her head held higher and approached the altar to stand next to his Master. Her maid followed behind her and took the place at her side. The bride passed her bouquet, crystal grace with sprigs of royal elfroot, to the maid and faced her future husband.
Unlike Fenris, who was dressed in black and metal, she was clothed in white silks and chiffon. Danarius had carefully curated their looks to represent a specific image: She, the naïve, virginal wife who needed protection; Fenris, the blade of death behind her that threatened anyone who would covet Danarius’ property.
Fenris’ cheek twitched in irritation at the idiotic display, and he fought a war not to scowl at everyone present. It was all pageantry for Danarius. Everything was a show to give specific glimpses into his life to provoke either envy or fear. No better example of both lay in the lyrium brands that burned under Fenris’ clothes.
When Danarius lifted her veil, Fenris was taken aback.
She wasn’t a Tevinter woman. Her light blonde hair was twisted into an ornate bun, and strings of pearls encircled her head like a layered tiara. She looked at Danarius with eyes as blue as the spring sky, and she wore just enough makeup to enhance her features but not overpower them. Fenris wondered if her lips really were that pink.
She held her small hands out, and Danarius took them into his larger ones. She was much shorter than him and even shorter than Fenris by a few inches, but that didn't stop her from radiating a confident energy.
‘Master will be sure to strip her of that before the honeymoon ends,’ Fenris thought darkly.
She smiled demurely at Danarius, and her eyes were filled with hope. This was her first time meeting her husband, and until a month ago, no one knew Danarius was getting married, let alone looking for a spouse. However, weeks ago, when Danarius sent a carriage full of riches to Kirkwall along with the bride’s future maid, the rumors exploded throughout the upper echelons of society.
Fenris couldn't help but pity the poor woman and was curious about Danarius' plans with the arrangement.
As soon as the couple held hands, the father began booming out the last verses of the canticle, followed by the wedding vows.
“Do you, Lady Ariana Hawke of the Amell family, take Danarius as your lawfully wedded husband?” he rumbled.
“I do,” she said softly.
“And do you, Magister Danarius, take Lady Ariana Hawke to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the father turned to the groom with an eyebrow raised.
Danarius smirked at her and casually replied with a shrug, “Sure.”
The crowd broke into murmurs and chuckles at Ariana’s expense. She was already being shamed and hadn’t been in the room for more than fifteen minutes. Her hands attempted to retract, but Danarius snatched them back, his fingers digging into her palms. The message was clear: you will stand here and take this.
The father repeated everything in Tevene, and the couple leaned forward for a short, awkward kiss. They then proceeded down the aisle with Fenris and the maid behind their respective master.
Fenris looked at the elven woman. Her name was Orana, and he had only seen her once before when Hadriana obsequiously made a show of gifting a slave from her house to serve her teacher’s new wife. The following day, Orana and a few guards left for Kirkwall to fetch the bride and escort her back to Tevinter.
Fenris made a mental note to ask Orana about this new mistress of theirs. She had spent nearly two weeks in close quarters with the woman, so she’d be their best expert. He also wanted to gauge if this elven slave was perhaps another spy trained by Hadriana to get information from Danarius’ household. He breathed a soft sigh through his nose.
‘ Please don’t let her be a spy. I am so tired of killing them,’ He thought in exasperation.
—-----
At the manor, there was a clothing change before guests arrived. Fenris was stripped of everything except for the gauntlets and donned a pair of loose black breeches. They hung low on his hips to draw one’s eyes downward. How far down do those brands go? An unspoken question Fenris saw throughout the night as he was ogled like a whore at the docks. His marks were on full display, and they had a golden glow in the autumn sunset. He was just thankful that Danarius didn’t order his skin to be oiled this time. That was always difficult to thoroughly wash off, and he was shiny for days.
The gauntlets remained on as an unspoken threat to Danarius’ guests. It was difficult for Fenris to perform menial tasks with his fingers encased in sharp metal, but Danarius didn’t care. He felt that a show of power that elicited fear from his guests was pleasurable to no end.
“Yes,” Fenris’ presence seemed to say, “I am a mere humble slave. However, I am ready to kill any of you if my master commands it.”
So there he was: a mighty warrior, wearing weapons ready for battle, chest bared for all to see, holding a goddamn bottle of wine like a common waiter.
He stood near the newlywed couple, who lounged on Nevarran velvet couches. Danarius and the guests across from him ate canapes on silver trays while Fenris held a bottle of Aggregio Pavali . His emerald green eyes scanned the room for possible threats from the crowd. Even though everyone was vetted, he could never let his guard down.
Finding no targets for the moment, he turned his attention back to the small group before him. A fat magister, already red-faced from too much alcohol, raised his empty glass to Fenris and shook it as a silent command. Carefully, as if performing delicate surgery, Fenris raised the bottle and expertly poured the chilled red wine without spilling.
He read the glances both women and men cast his way. They did not matter. Any of them who may be so foolhardy as to lust after him were too terrified to make any move. However, he didn’t know if they were stilled by the threat of what Danarius would do or what he might do himself. The barest half smile graced Fenris’ lips at the thought. Despite being a slave, something about him made some magisters quake, even if for a moment, and that pleased him greatly.
He was snapped from his reverie by Danarius, who hoisted his glass up behind the neck of his new bride. Those thoughts must have been too much of a distraction, though, as an errant drop of the cold wine hit the back of Ariana’s neck as Fenris poured. She reflexively shivered and looked up at him. Those mesmerizing blue eyes met him, and he saw fear. Clenching his teeth for a moment, he broke his gaze lest he offend his new mistress. He didn’t know what kind of slave owner she would be, but if she were with Danarius, then it wouldn’t take long for her to be sharpening her claws on any person under her rank.
He focused his attention on the room once again. Watching a room full of magisters and their guests crooning congratulations to the couple for hours was tedious. However, when out of earshot, a very different dialogue played out. Fenris noted that the most unflattering things were discussed in Tevene. Those not from Tevinter rarely knew the language, and the guests preyed on that. Ariana kept giving the sweetest smiles to those who cooed to her in Tevene, even if they called her an ugly sow.
“Who even is she?”
“Well, you know what he does to slaves…it makes sense that no respectable Tevene woman would want him.”
“She is far too pale. She looks almost sickly even next to the slaves!”
“I hear she’s from a noble family that sold her to Danarius to pay their debts!”
“Danarius wanted a woman from outside our families. After all that lyrium branding nonsense, who knows what wild ideas he has now.”
“She’s apparently from Ferelden, where her family all died from the blight.”
“It was her poor uncle that took her in. Such a horrible girl. He just had to marry her off right away!”
“Hopefully, she'll give birth to a child within the year, and he can dump her off as some soporati’s concubine. A Fereldan, really!”
“Bringing a barbarian into our bloodlines? I don’t care if she is a mage. Their children will be mongrels at best.”
Fenris closed his eyes to prevent anyone from seeing them roll—a mage. Of course, Danarius would marry another mage. Usually, Magisters carefully selected their mates based on generations of breeding and careful considerations regarding the desired child's traits. Danarius must have something special planned with this coupling but it was not for Fenris to speculate why.
‘These are not proper thoughts of a slave, though. Never question your master, head down, speak only when spoken to, give in to their every desire.’ When he opened his eyes, Fenris caught Danarius casting a predatory glance his way and repeated to himself. ‘Every desire.’
Fenris reasonably had no love of mages. In Tevinter, the most powerful ones were in the magisterium, and those in power tended to be horrible people. They claimed it was necessary for their survival, but it seemed a weak excuse to indulge in blood lust. It was hard not to feel that death and pain would always be intertwined with mages.
Even Ferelden had its own strange brand of blood magic. An Arl of Redcliff had the scandal of his son learning blood magic from a tutor. The Arlessa had been so worried about the Circles that she allowed her son to walk the path of becoming an abomination. The child was only saved because the Grey Warden stepped in, but that didn’t bring back those who lost their lives. Ultimately, mages would always justify their actions and claim it’s for some greater good—utter nonsense.
‘Hopefully, this woman doesn’t dabble in that sort of perverse magic, but knowing Danarius, she probably runs her own cult,’ He growled internally.
No, all mages were just as likely to be selfish and destructive as the Tevene magisters, be they from Free Marches or Ferelden.
‘And soon they will breed even more of them,’ Fenris thought angrily, sickened at the idea of a horde of little Danarius spawn running around the house.
The bride did not drink her wine despite its fine vintage. She swirled it absently in her glass while slowly looking around the room. She did not notice the stares that came her way. Some wished to harm her at her audacity for living, and others wanted to take the young virgin for a ride. Her white wedding gown was replaced by one that had thigh-high slits that gaped as she walked and a plunging neckline that reached her belly. She held very still as though not to let any of her most intimate parts be bared to this pit of vipers.
She stood instantly when the gong sounded for the party to move to the dining room for dinner. Danarius gave her a tight-lipped smile, and she froze like a deer pinned by a hunter. Danarius always went first. However, the social damage had already been done, and she waited for him to stand before moving again. Danarius blew past her and entered the dining room with a pair of his magister friends. They shared a joke between them and began a round of raucous laughter. The mistress stood alone now, and she looked helplessly at her glass. Finally, she turned to Fenris and whispered, “Would it be alright to leave this here, or do I take it in?”
Her voice was soft, and Fenris had to strain to hear her, but finally, he replied in a measured tone, “If you leave it on the table, mistress, the slaves will clean up when the guests are in the other room.”
She nodded and cast a grateful smile at him. His eyes locked with hers again, and he saw the fear from before and a deep sadness. He nodded and strode past her to follow his master into the dining room. He heard the clink of the glass being set down as she hurried to match his steps so she wouldn't be late for dinner.
It took a while for each guest to be seated, and she took her place next to Danarius. He sat at the head of the table, and the next highest-ranking magister sat at the opposite head. Fenris took his honorary place behind Danarius, and the service began. Several courses were served while the guests murmured amongst themselves: more gluttony, more words, more deceptions.
It maddened him, the highest rungs of Tevinter society getting stinking drunk and gorging themselves on expensive food until they were fit to burst. Slaves were toiling in the kitchen with barely enough to eat, and here was another Altus consuming in one serving what would be used to feed two slaves for a day. That’s not even getting into the lust that oozed from these people. Eyes were looking all around, sizing up each other’s wealth and prestige based on looks and title. More affairs started at wedding receptions than at any other event.
‘Disgusting.’
He expertly stifled a sneer. An impudent slave did not last long in the good graces of even the kindest masters, and Danarius was no kind master.
At the end of the party, as the last of the guests were making their farewells and well wishes, Fenris watched as Danarius escorted Ariana up a long staircase toward the master suite. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. Watching his master consummate a wedding night was not on his top list of things to do before he died, but Danarius insisted on it earlier that morning when briefing him about the day’s events.
—------
“You wish for me to…be in the room with you…with your new bride?” Fenris had asked, quite appalled at the idea.
“Yes, since I’ve never met the woman who knows what plans she may have in store. Just in case she turns out to be an assassin or a desire demon in disguise, I want my little wolf on duty in case I need him,” Danarius replied while stroking Fenris’ cheek gently, moving a lock of white hair from his eyes.
Fenris knew this had more to do with Danarius wanting to show off another display of power. He wasn’t willing to deflower the woman in front of the whole of the magisterium. No, that would be like sharing a new toy. Danarius wanted to claim his prize in front of the one piece of property that he valued more than others.
Fenris felt like throwing up but instead gave a short bow and said that servile phrase: “Your will is my own, Master.”
—------
Danarius led Ariana to his bedroom. A massive four-poster bed was against the far wall, covered in white silk sheets, and the blankets were turned down. Fenris saw her shoulders tense from behind at the sight of the bed.
To the right was what could be construed as a miniature study. It boasted a well-stocked bookcase, a writing desk, and a fine leather high-backed chair next to a lamp that one only needed to use a simple magic rune to light. Strangely, Fenris noted that a bottle of Starkhaven brandy with two glasses was on a serving tray on the writing desk.
To the left, on the floor, was a low table with several Antivan silk cushions surrounding it. Danarius occasionally ate breakfast there as he read over various letters or a new book on questionable magical practices. He guided the lady to sit on one of the cushions before he sat down himself. Danarius nodded to Fenris, who shut and locked the door with a resounding click. Then he took his place in front of it. The mistress was utterly trapped, and from the tremors, Fenris saw she knew it.
“Now, my lovely bride,” Danarius began. “I know this is all overwhelming for you: finding yourself in a new land, with a new husband and position. Let me put your fears to rest, my dear. So long as you do as I say, you will live a life of luxury you couldn’t imagine.”
‘Not many can imagine a life in Danarius’ household. Not many want to,’ Fenris thought bitterly.
“So,” Danarius said with a small clap and smile. “Why don’t you serve us some of that fine Starkhaven brandy up there?”
Both Fenris and Ariana were confused about who he was speaking to. Ariana looked at Fenris behind her warily.
“If you could please -” She began before Danarius struck her hard across the face.
She crashed onto the cushion with a yelp, and he grabbed the ornate bun her blonde hair was wound into and lifted her head.
“When I tell you I want you to do something, you do it yourself!” He hissed before slamming her head back down onto the soft surface.
She lay there momentarily before his commanding voice snarled, “I’m still waiting.”
She scrambled to her feet and hurried to the table, where she picked up the tray, and Fenris saw that her left cheek was already swelling. Her hands shook as she set the tray on the table, and she almost spilled the brandy as she poured. Danarius acted oblivious as he took a long drink from the crystal cup and eyed her hungrily.
“See, my dear, as I said, so long as you obey me, you can enjoy life's finer things. This brandy is from Starkhaven, aged 50 years in only the finest oak casks,” Danarius said with a dark smile.
She nodded her head but did not fill her glass. For several long minutes, Danarius studied Ariana and twirled the glass in his fingers. The edges of the crystal winked in the light and cast colorful fractured rainbows around the room. Ariana sat silently with her small hands balled up in her lap.
“Take off your clothes now,” he ordered, cutting through the oppressive silence.
She paused only for a moment before standing; she was already learning. He stopped her as she was unlacing her dress.
“Stand in the light,” he commanded.
As she moved towards the desk, she glanced at Fenris, and her eyes grew wide with shock. She had forgotten he was still in the room. She paused, still holding the laces in her fingers, when a warning growl from Danarius set her moving again. Fenris looked to the back wall, partially from respect and pity for what his new mistress was about to endure.
She dutifully stripped down to her small clothes, which Danarius also chose, so they amounted to little more than narrow bands of fragile fabric. A primal hum of appreciation came from Danarius, who leered at her openly. She resisted the urge to cover herself from his burning gaze. She had accepted that she could not deny the inevitable.
“I’m told you are a virgin, is that correct?” He asked as casually as if he were asking about the weather.
“Y-yes, ser,” Ariana said in a soft voice. “I’ve never laid with another man or been touched by one.”
“Good,” he murmured before standing and approaching her. “Because if you’re lying to me, you will not leave this room alive.” Ariana squeaked in surprise, and Fenris looked over to see Danarius stroking her throat almost affectionately. Her body was tense, and she trembled at his touch. “I’m a man with unique tastes, my dear. I expect you will satisfy your marital duties by fulfilling my desires,” he murmured.
Her large blue eyes were trained on his, and she nodded without speaking.
“Good,” he said before giving her a chaste kiss.
He guided her to the bed, where a large, black box was nestled against the footboard. He opened the clasps and displayed the contents to his new bride. Fenris recognized the box and knew what was inside. He knew why she suddenly stared at Danarius in horror. Fear was the most potent aphrodisiac for Danarius, and Fenris knew it all too well. He shut his eyes, but he couldn’t shut his ears to what happened over the next several hours.
What felt like an eternity later, Fenris heard Danarius calling to him. His eyes snapped towards the bed, and he saw Danarius languidly reclining on the pillows in all of his naked glory. Ariana was beside him, on her side, and curled up into herself. Fenris had to look twice to see if she was breathing at all.
“My bride is quite tired from our activities. Please get her maid and have her taken to her room at once,” Danarius said airily.
Eager to leave the hellish room, Fenris turned on his heels and exited quickly. Her room was down the hallway and on the opposite side of the stairs. Danarius valued his personal space and set her up with her own suite. She was close enough to summon when needed but not so close that she was privy to his other activities.
Fenris didn’t bother knocking before entering. The room was dark except for the bright moonlight outside. A large vase with the crystal grace bouquet sat on her vanity, giving the room a sweet smell. It almost washed out the smell of blood, brandy, and sex—almost, but not entirely.
Fenris crossed the room, went behind the dressing screen, and knocked on a hidden door in the far-right wall. It opened slowly, and Orana's wide eyes peered out at him. Her main quarters were downstairs with the rest of the slaves, but she also had a small alcove in the mistress’ room to be on hand if needed. Danarius had a similar nook in his room, but, fortunately, he never demanded that Fenris use it.
“Yes, ser?” She asked softly.
“The mistress requires assistance to return to her room tonight,” he replied gruffly.
Orana’s eyes widened, and she nodded. “Right away, ser!”
Turning to leave, Fenris was struck by a thought and said over his shoulder, “And bring the poor woman a robe.”
Orana quickly followed him while holding a silvery silk robe in her arms. When Fenris pushed open the door, he heard her audibly gasp.
‘She’ll need to work on that.’ he thought grimly.
Fenris took his place at the side of the door, and Orana tiptoed to her mistress’s side. Danarius hadn’t bothered to cover up and flashed Orana a satisfied smile. With soft words, Orana coaxed Ariana to stand and draped the robe over her shoulders. Unable to stand straight due to the pain in her belly, Ariana took Orana’s offered hand and allowed herself to be guided back into the hallway. When she left the room, Fenris looked at the bed again and noted the blood in the center that Danarius proudly lay on. Danarius saw his gaze and slowly followed it down.
His eyes were filled with cruel glint, and he chuckled, “Virgins can be such messy business.”
Fenris did not acknowledge the statement. He merely continued to stare forward until Danarius tutted from how boring his little wolf was and waved him away. “I am tired, little wolf. Have one of the new slave girls bring me a late breakfast. I will expect you to meet me in the library afterward.”
Fenris nodded once and eagerly fled the room. His steps down the hall were silent as a ghost. When he reached the slave’s stairwell near Ariana’s room, some unseen force pulled him to her door. He wouldn’t dare intrude or even ask if she was okay, but he still felt the need to look in.
‘I’m just checking on things to ensure the floor is safe before retiring for the night,’ he tried to convince himself.
The door to her room was ajar, and he saw a strange green glow coming from the edges. He peered in to see her on the edge of the bed with her injured back to him. Orana knelt on the floor with a bloody washcloth to clean Ariana’s legs. Ariana’s hands covered her face as green tendrils of healing magic washed over her skin. The tendrils grew like vines and twisted around her, protecting her from the world. When the magic subsided, he was disquieted that the bruises and welts on her back were gone. What kind of power did she have? As she lowered her arms, Orana gave her a small smile.
“That’s wonderful, my lady. You can’t even tell anymore… would you like me to get you a mirror?”
“No, thank you, Orana. You’ve been wonderful to me. I think I can handle it from here,” she replied softly, reassuringly squeezing Orana’s hand.
Orana looked unsure but stood anyway. Her eyes flicked up to see Fenris standing at the doorway. He gave a solemn nod, which she returned, and he shut the door.
He went downstairs to his quarters in the slave’s hall.
‘I pray he does not make that a regular occurrence,’ he thought, disgusted as he laid down in his bedroll for the night. It had been a long day, and Fenris fell into a dreamless sleep where, fortunately, her screams did not follow him.