These are seven 350-word drabbles covering Fenris's life before and after the ritual. I'll post one a day, to keep them separated. These take place in the same universe as At Your Side, but the two stories can be read separately.

"Leto! Our master is calling you."

Hearing the strained tone in his mother's voice, he grimaced. Their master undoubtedly wanted to grill him about his training regimen again—if Leto could prevail over all the other slaves entered in the championship to win the honor of participating in Magister Danarius's ritual, it would be a bright feather in their master's cap. But it was an endless source of argument with Leto's mother. For some reason, she didn't wish him to compete. She'd feel differently if she knew what boon he would ask, though, Leto thought with pride. He was doing this for her, after all, and for his sister Varania. They'd know what it was like to have a man looking out for them.

He finished braiding his long black hair as his mother called for him again. "I'll be there in a moment, Mother," he called back. He flexed his muscles confidently. Few other slaves had his native skill with a sword, and his master had been most generous in his training. He would win, there was no doubt about it.

Descending the stairs from the attic room where they slept, he found his mother busy in the kitchen, preparing the master's midday meal.

"Leto," she said, her green eyes surveying him with exasperated pride. "When will you learn not to keep the master waiting?"

"If he wants me prepared, he must wait as long as that takes," Leto said, shrugging.

"Have you eaten?"

"Not enough." He grinned at her.

She smiled back, dishing up a bowl of hot broth. With a careful glance toward the kitchen door, she scooped up a dumpling and a piece of chicken and added them to the bowl. "You'll need protein to keep your strength up," she whispered. She placed the bowl in front of him, her hand softly touching the top of his head. "Leto." Spoon halfway to his mouth, he looked up at her. "Be careful. You don't know—everything."

"Of course, Mother," he assured her. "I will." But her words were forgotten with the first swallow of the rich broth.