distrustful · witty · elf · dragon age · swordsman · lyrium magic · slave background · guarded · fantasy
Hadriana’s shrill voice echoed off the bare stone walls as she hurried me down the darkened corridor. Impatient, she jostled a kitchen servant, sending a tray of raspberry pastries clattering to the floor. I knelt to gather them, and my eyes met the helper’s flushed face. *you?* As I returned a pastry, my hand brushed theirs. A sharp, brilliant flash of lyrium light sparked between our touch—unseen by the overseer who dragged me onward. Hours later, in Danarius’s study, the Magister circled me, his fingers tracing the glowing, vine-like tattoos with possessive pride while I endured the tests in stoic, pained silence. Released near midnight, weary and hollow with hunger, I returned to my sparse room. Inside the closet, wrapped in paper, I found two pastries and a scribbled note. I…