Just a few notes... ok a lot of notes for this chapter!

1. There was a bit of a shit-storm of drama in my life yesterday. The point is, that I am so grateful for all the lovely comments you people have left me because it made it so much easier to deal with... thank you

2. Much thank-you's must be given to a lovely lady called Kreebby who helped proof read this chapter

3. I've tentatively decided to re-join the tumblr community. If you are interested in following me, you can find me here as brelakor

4. There is mature content (consensual sex) in this chapter!

5. There is also implied non-con in this chapter

Chapter Thirteen

They'd picked what should have been an easy target. It was a far away mansion, secluded from the rest that was owned by one of Andruil's followers. It may have been foolish of him, but Fen'Harel targeted her people deliberately to infuriate and ridicule her, and, in some ways, to weaken her as well because the more her rage grew, the more she was blinded by it. Regardless, they'd broken into the mansion, found the slaves and made to leave when they'd been ambushed in a courtyard. They were outnumbered, the master's guards were surrounding them and Lavellan placed herself before the slaves, her arms held out to try and shield them. But the guards did not move, and as a single, robed figure stalked down a set of stairs and came before them, Fen'Harel realised why. The master's ugly features were twisted into fury at their actions, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared Fen'Harel down. Then, his gaze flickered behind the god to his slaves and trailed over Lavellan. He paused, his eyes widening ever so slightly before fixing them back on Fen'Harel with a glower.

"You have my property, wolf," he sneered.

"They are not your property, they are people," Fen'Harel replied and his voice tinted with a growl that betrayed his wavering control.

"I was not speaking of them."

A crack of lightning seared through the air but the master deflected it with an easily summoned barrier. It was then that Fen'Harel heard Lavellan hiss; in a fury he had never heard grace her voice before, "You."

He turned and saw Lavellan stalking towards them, her eyes shining with such rage she ignored him entirely and sparked lightning from her fingertips again at the master. He deflected it once more, years of practice and training easily outmanoeuvring her but it didn't stop her.

"I always knew you were particularly powerful, but it will be no difficulty to suppress you once again," the master replied and he flicked his hand lazily, summoned a force of magic that slammed her ruthlessly into the ground. She gasped and Fen'Harel moved to assist her until he saw the guards move in around the slaves, their weapons poised to execute them at a moment's notice and he paused because he couldn't sacrifice them. "Did you think you would stop being my property simply because Mythal gave you to this dog? Did you think you would stop being a slave simply because he erased the brands on your face? They can easily be replaced."

"Figures that only Andruil would take you after Mythal disavowed you," Lavellan spat as she pulled herself from the ground, but even as she made to stand, the master forced her down again with a second spell and it tore a low, bestial growl from Fen'Harel's throat as he watched him stalk towards her and kneel beside her.

"Does your new master appreciate you?" the master sneered as he grabbed at her chin roughly. "Do you pleasure him as you did me, or do you not interest him in favour of prettier girls who wouldn't spout wretched things from their lips and try to resist him?"

"She is not my slave," Fen'Harel growled and the guards hesitated when they heard the poorly concealed rage in his voice, and saw the sharpening of his nails.

"No?" The master laughed in her face as he forced her to stare at him. "Pity. She made a good one when she didn't have her magic. The things she would do for me in bed... she may not have been as attractive as the others, but you would never want for another so talented once she slipped-"

His voice was cut off by a burst of raw, poorly controlled magic that sent the master flying into a wall, his body cracking and breaking at the impact. Lavellan scrambled to her feet, span around to stare at Fen'Harel and her eyes widened in horror as he doubled over and succumbed to the beast.

"Fen'Harel," she started, pleadingly, as she made to approach him but he growled, throaty and guttural. He knew, even as much as she meant to him, that the wolf would not discriminate. That in its bloodthirsty craze it would attack everything in its sight, even the slaves, and even her.

So, with the last of his willpower before transforming completely, he managed to spit out a deep, insistent, "Go."

And he was lost to it, his rage blinding him as he lunged at the guards. They scattered before the wolf but he was faster, deadlier and he pinned them, bore his fangs and sank them into their throats. Their screams and their blood spurred him on, fuelled his anger and the last thing he saw before his mind was clouded entirely in his frenzy, was the sight of Lavellan desperately herding the slaves out of the courtyard and to safety. And with them gone, the last shreds of his humanity disappeared and the beast roared in triumph.

Hours later Fen'Harel staggered back into his home an exhausted, broken man. It had turned into a massacre and he was drenched in the blood of Lavellan's master and his guards, his hair matted with it and staining his skin and soaked into his robes. He'd lost control, completely and utterly, mauled them to death and ravaged in each scream he'd torn from their throats. And she was there waiting for him when he returned home. He prayed she wouldn't have been and he tried to ignore her, tried to slip past her but she saw how defeated and lifeless he was and she reached out for him. He fell into her arms, his strength failing him but he tried with everything he had to pull away from her.

"Fen'Harel," she whispered.

"They're dead," he gasped even as he tried to push her away and pulled away from her.

But she grabbed his hand and wouldn't leave him be. He wished so dearly she would. He didn't need her to see him like this, to see his shame and disgrace so etched into him like the blood drenching his body. He stared at her with a pained expression, his once clear blue eyes murky and dark to reflect the turmoil raging inside him.

"Lavellan, please," he begged but even as he pleaded, she took his face in her hands, pulled him down to her and pressed her forehead against his. He tried to resist the embrace at first because he didn't deserve it, but he folded after a few minutes and curled his arms around her.

After several moments she pulled back to stare at him with sad, pitying eyes, and ran her thumb over his lips, over the blood that was drying there. He couldn't handle the look she was giving him, it was like a dagger twisting in his chest and it shamed him, but she didn't care. She sighed as her gaze travelled over the blood that was drenching his clothes and drying onto his skin.

"All of this for me..." she started gently. "Why?"

"He deserved it for what he did to you," he replied and she sighed.

"And what about you? Do you deserve the guilt?"

He was silent for several long moments and then, bitterly, said, "Yes."

"You don't," she chided and her hand slipped into his once more, tugging him gently. "Come with me."

He didn't have the strength to question or argue with her so he let her lead him back through his eluvian. She took him to the river where he'd freed her magic and then she paused, turned around and slipped her hands under the collar of his robes.

"Let me clean the blood from your hands," she said as she pushed the fabric off his chest and let it fall to the ground. He gazed at her for a long moment before bowing his head slowly in defeat.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek and told him to get in the water. He obeyed because he was shattered and defenceless, completely submitted to her and the way she took control over the situation. She made him sit in the shallow part of river and, carefully, slowly, she washed the blood from his skin. Her hands ran over every inch of him, every muscle, easing the red staining his skin away. Water ran down his body in tainted crimson streams and he couldn't watch, only capable of staring into the distance. He didn't even care when she pulled off the rest of his clothes to reach the blood that had soaked through his leggings. Ordinarily he would have been hesitant, at best, of being completely naked and exposed before her, but in that moment nothing mattered other than his guilt.

When she finished, she knelt down behind him and pulled his head down into her lap, letting his hair soak in the water and easing the sticky mass of blood out. He stared up at her until she was done, and then she leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

"You're more than the monster you think you are," she whispered as her hands cupped his face, caressed his cheek and her hair fell around them both like a curtain to block out the rest of the world that he loathed so much. And then she whispered it, those three words he wished she'd never uttered because it made her his irrefutable weakness, his choke point, the one they could use against him to make him suffer. "I love you."

"How could you?" It came as barely more than a whisper because she couldn't, she shouldn't have and yet... she did.

Her touch slipped from his face and she moved around him as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. She faced him, straddled him, linked her arms around his neck and gazed at him for several long moments, before leaning down and kissing him. His hands fell to her thighs as she gently, but insistently, pushed for entrance to his mouth and he let her. When she broke away from him and undid the ties at the front of her dress, the fabric falling from her shoulders and into the water, he paused. Whether this was right or not, he still was unsure. It nagged at him that no matter how much he freed her, she'd still been a slave once. And yet she was offering herself to him now, completely of her own volition, and he would have been lying if he denied that he wanted her.

Slowly, gently, he leant forward and kissed her neck, let his tongue run over her collarbone and grazed his teeth along her skin. When he sucked and palmed her breast, she moaned so gently in his ear he swore he'd never heard a more beautiful noise in his life. She guided his hand between her legs, telling him what she wanted, giving him permission without letting a word slip between her lips. He felt her through the fabric of her clothes but they were soaked from the river and stuck to her skin so tightly he couldn't undo them fast enough for her.

"Ruin them," she breathed and he obeyed with a jolt of magic that ripped the material apart and cast it aside. She bent over him, pressed her forehead into his shoulder and sighed against his skin when he ran a finger over her sex and then slipped it inside her.

He was gentle with her, careful and he never forgot it was her choice, that he had her permission and he whispered a soft promise into her hair that he wouldn't treat her as the rest had, that he couldn't use her. When he coaxed her to release, she dug her nails into his back and moaned, deep and throaty against his neck as she shuddered and pushed against his touch desperately. He drew out every last tremble of pleasure until she was gasping for breath because he knew no one had ever cared about her enough to worry about her satisfaction before, and he would change that. It didn't matter he was aching for her because this was not about him.

Eventually she pulled away, her violet eyes dark with desire as she pressed a hungry, desperate kiss against his lips once more. Her fingers wrapped around his arousal but he refused to let her touch him at the expense of her own pleasure and he stopped her, as much as it ached him to do so, with a hand gently clasped around hers. She stared at him, confusion evident on her features until he whispered, softly, "Don't, not this time."

She understood, because instead she pressed against him, guided him into her hot, wet entrance and bit back a gasp as he filled her. He let her set the pace, gave her complete control over the situation and ignored his own desire as she came to her climax a second time. The shallow waves of the river lapped against their thighs as he held her in his arms, cradled her and kissed her neck softly as she clenched around him and it drove him to his rapture, made him buck and tremble against her as he spilled himself in her and breathed her name.

It was then, holding her quivering in his arms, that he returned those three, dangerous words. And he prayed that one day they wouldn't be used against him.