Dedicated to everyone who has been waiting oh so patiently (and those who have waited not so patiently :) ) for some ass kicking. I wanted to make it awesome, and I hope I have.
This story is FAR from finished, but my husband is having surgery next week & I don't know when I'll have the time & energy to update. I'll try my best, though.
And I've only got a couple of names submitted for the doggie who peed on Anders. Still time to submit suggestions!
Chapter Fourteen: The Beating
Fenris
It had been difficult leaving Hawke this morning. His declaration that they should spend the evening apart had turned into an entire day away from her, as she and Orana had needed to bake for the party. Why she had to make so much food, he had no clue. Could four women really eat that much? They had woken early, and spent the few hours before dawn broke lazily snuggling and holding each other. Fenris found he was loathe to leave her. He tried suggesting they call the night's activities off, but she had laughed and told him that she'd already sent out the invitations and it would be rude to cancel. When he grumbled about his "lousy idea", she had simply smiled, climbed on top of him, and quickly made his mind turn to other thoughts. It was while he was sheathed deeply within her that his thoughts had turned to marriage. She was a vision to behold as she straddled his hips, her head thrown back, eyes closed in pleasure. Her long black hair curled slightly at the ends and brushed over her nipples, hiding them from his view. This woman must always belong to him.
Once they were both spent, she had lain across his chest, kissing his shoulder. Lazily stroking his fingers up and down her back, he had briefly wondered if he had told her he loved her yet. Surely, she had to know…but as he was fumbling in his mind with the words, the exact right words, a timid knock had sounded on Hawke's door.
Orana, looking scared, had poked her head in the room at Hawke's invitation. "I'm sorry mistress, but you asked me to fetch you at 10. No matter what" she added softly.
"Thank you Orana, I'll be down in a bit" Hawke had said, and climbed off him. Instantly his body felt like it was missing it's other half. She dressed quickly, and he watched her bustle about the room, appreciating the way she walked, the gentle sway of her hips. His mouth began to water as he remembered the way she tasted and the feel of her lips against his skin. His skin seemed to burn in the places she had kissed it. He found himself growing hard as he watched her bend over to find her socks. She turned back and saw him, lying on the bed, her sheet covering his bottom half. His obvious desire for her was tenting the sheet, and she had grinned wickedly.
Crawling back onto the bed, she'd kissed him deeply, grasping his hardened cock in her hand. At his sharp intake of breath and low moan, she had smiled against his lips. Pushing him down on his back, she squeezed hard, fondling his balls with her other hand. Working her magic, she had brought him to a quick release. As the hot cum sprayed and dribbled onto her hand, she had licked herself clean, while he watched her with hungry eyes.
"Be a good boy tonight, Fenris. And maybe you'll get a reward."
It is these thoughts that distract him as he stares darkly at his hand.
"So, Broody, do you plan to wager or are we just supposed to guess?" Varric's teasing voice snaps Fenris out of his thoughts.
He has no clue how long he's been staring at his hand, but he shifts uncomfortably in his chair. It would not be good to get aroused in front of Donnic and Varric.
"Seriously, Broody, you look as if you want to bore holes into your cards. I wouldn't mind, as long as the holes show me what your hand is."
"I was…concentrating…on the hand."
"Uh-huh. The hand of a certain woman named after a bird, if I'd have to wager a guess."
Fenris cannot help the slight smile that tugs at his lips.
"Oh ho! So I'm right!" Varric gleefully declares.
"I will not discuss this with you, Dwarf." he grumbles, shooting Varric an icy glare.
"Fine, fine. Keep your secrets. I can make up the details. No one has seen hide or hair of either of you in days, so it shouldn't be too hard. Although I imagine you have been quite hard lately."
"None of your neighbors have complained the past few days, so I would wager our friend here has been staying elsewhere." Donnic chimes in.
Varric's eyes light up as Fenris stares at Donnic. "Perhaps I have merely been sleeping. Or drunk."
The two men laugh as they regard the elf and his dark look.
The hour grows late as the three men play hand after hand, drinking the brandy Varric had brought, and eating from the basket of salted ham, a thick wedge of creamy cheese and fresh bread that Arielle had sent along with Fenris that morning. Donnic's contribution is Aveline's sweet rolls, which she knows Fenris loves.
"So, Broody, what finally made you crawl out of Hawke's bed?" Varric's eyes light up as he draws the Angel of Death, but his face remains a mask of stony contemplation.
"I had spoken with Donnic a few weeks back to see if he could get off work to play some night and this was the only night he had free." Fenris furrows his brow as he draws yet another Serpent card. Where is that blasted Angel of Death?
"So what's Hawke doing tonight, since she's not doing you?" Varric draws another card, confidently building his hand around the coveted Angel of Death.
Fenris glares at Varric, who just shrugs his shoulders, replying, "I've got a million of 'em Broody. It's a gift, it really is."
"She, Aveline, the whore and the blood mage are doing…womanly things."
"Like painting their toenails and having pillow fights?"
"I have no clue, Dwarf. Maybe you should ask them."
"Maybe I will. I wonder why Bianca wasn't invited." Varric lovingly pats his crossbow, resting against his legs.
"What is the deal with that cross bow anyway?" Donnic asks.
"Ah, my good man, get me drunk enough and I may tell you."
"How about we win the story from you instead?" Fenris asks, knowing Varric can rarely pass up a bet.
"Deal" Varric agrees, smiling smugly as he thinks of his winning hand, and knows his bluffing skills are unbeatable.
A couple of hours later, Fenris sits before a large pile of gold coins, and a scrap of paper that Donnic witnessed Varric writing. It is the IOU for one tale of how Bianca got her name. Fenris makes sure Varric writes "True" story, as he knows the dwarf will lie if it is not specified.
Varric is still scratching his chin in amazement, wondering how on Thedas the elf managed to bluff his way through so many hands.
"Well, I've lost all the money I came with. Time for me to go home to an empty bed." Donnic chugs the last of his brandy, standing up to shake hands with Varric and Fenris. "Thank you Fenris. Next week perhaps? I'll ask the Guard Captain for the night off." He grins as he mentions his wife, and walks out the door, a slightly drunken stagger to his walk.
Varric pats Fenris on the back, winking at him as he walks out the door. "Thanks for taking my gold, Broody. I have to go home and work on that new story of you and our fearless leader. I think I'll call it 'Broody Lovers'."
Fenris stares after the men for a moment, and then looks at the pile of money on the table. He needs to buy Hawke a new set of clothes, and he knows exactly what he wants. But what else to do with it? He mulls it over for a few moments, before a slow, lazy smile forms on his lips. He finds a wooden box and deposits the money inside, locking it with a key. He hides the box under his bed and the key inside of an empty urn next to his fireplace. He sits in his favorite chair, intending to read, but his thoughts continue to stray to Hawke. He has to see her face before he goes to sleep. His lips are craving her kisses, and he knows crashing her party is rude, but he also knows he will not be able to sleep until he kisses her goodnight.
He steps out into the cool night air in just his black leather breeches and a long-sleeved black cotton shirt. He does not feel the chill as others do, having been hardened to the elements from years as a slave.
His step is light as he nears her house, the anticipation he feels of holding her in his arms making his heart beat wildly.
He knocks lightly on the door, pleased when Bodhan greets him warmly. "Messere Fenris! We did not think we would see you tonight. My lady is with her guests in the study."
Fenris nods his head in thanks, making his way to the cozy room off the main hall. As he nears the closed door, his ears pick up their conversation. He halts when he hears his name, smiling as he realizes she is bragging about him in bed. Feminine giggles in four different voices fill the room and his grin widens, his chest puffing out. He knows he should not eavesdrop, but he cannot help himself. The conversation turns to Anders, and his grin falls to a frown. His eyes begin to darken as he realizes what she is saying. As the words hit him, about what exactly transpired that night, he cannot stomach to listen to any more. The rage darkens his soul-knowing now that Anders took advantage of her while she was impaired makes his head spin with disgust for the man. He spins on his heel, his lyrium beginning to glow. He pushes past Bodhan, not noticing the stunned look on the dwarf's face.
With each step toward Darktown, his rage grows. He rushes to his destination, not noticing Varric outside the Hanged Man, his arm around a plump, pretty dwarven lass. He does not notice Varric's look of worry and does not hear Varric calling out to him. The blood pounds in his ears and his eyes see red as he makes his way to the clinic. It will be closed this time of night, but even if it weren't, Fenris would still kill Anders. This way, there will just be less people to try to stop him. Not that they could stop him anyway.
He stalks through the door, fury darkened eyes searching for his prey. Anders, his back to the front door, is bent over his desk, mixing potions. Fenris is behind him in an instant, and as Anders turns, too late, Fenris has him around the throat. He lifts him by the neck, slamming him against the wall. His hand grips Anders' throat like a vice, his fingers like cold stone. He squeezes, making Anders' face turn purple. The blonde man gags, truly frightened by the intense rage on Fenris' face. The air is vibrating with the fury seeping from every pore in Fenris's body. His teeth are bared, and there is a purely feral look on his face.
The first blow comes and knocks Anders' face to the side. The second and third blows land square in the middle of his face. There is a sickening crunch of bones as Anders feels his nose break. Fenris' fist lands in the middle of Anders gut, and as he gasps for breath, it feels as if a sledgehammer slams into his side. The snap of breaking ribs is heard.
Fenris continues smashing Anders' face and assaulting his body until Anders can no longer stand, and slides to the ground. He curls into a ball, shielding his face with his arms. Fenris kicks him a couple of times in the stomach, dealing one kick to the groin. Then he grabs Anders by the front of his shirt, hauling him up. His face is inches from Anders', and the look he wears is vicious and savage.
Fenris' hands are slick with blood and he grabs the mage's head in his hands, smashing the back of his skull into the wall. He spits in Anders' face and jabs his knee into Anders' groin, before letting him drop again to the floor. Bending, he makes a move for Anders again, but a noise behind him halts his actions.
Fenris turns his head to see her in the middle of the room, her daggers drawn. As his breathing slowly returns to normal, he takes her in. Her eyes are wide with fear, mixed with some other emotion he cannot place, and a look of horror is on her face. He turns back to look at Anders. Anders' face is a bloody pulpy mess, and his eyes are already starting to swell shut. A couple of teeth lie next to his head. Fenris turns to look at Arielle again, and for the first time, notices the rest of the group.
The women are all in their nightclothes, weapons drawn. Merrill looks as if she is about to be sick, and Isabela is staring at Fenris with a look of pure, blatant desire on her face. Aveline, usually so calm and composed, wears a look of both shock and awe. His eyebrow raises slightly as he notices the fluffy white bunny slippers she wears. The door flings open and Varric rushes in, huffing and puffing.
He bends over, trying to catch his breath. "I…saw…Broody…rushing and I…followed." Isabela pats him on the back. His short, stumpy legs fail him and he coughs as he slides to the ground. After a few moments of loud air gulping, Varric stands and looks from one woman to the other, raising his eyebrows at Aveline. "Nice bunny slippers, Guard Captain. They standard issue?"
"I couldn't find my boots, and as a matter of fact, they are, Varric."
"Donnic ever see you in those?"
"All the time, Varric."
"Lucky man, that Donnic."
"He seems to think so, yes."
A wheezing and gasping noise on the floor draws their attention back to Fenris and Anders.
"Oh, Anders" Merrill sighs sadly.
Arielle crosses to Fenris, shaking, tears streaming down her face. He turns to her, his body rigid with fury, but the hands that reach for her are gentle. She takes his face in her hands, kissing him softly. "Stop, my love. Stop. He has suffered enough. I am yours." She kisses his bloody and bruised knuckles, resting his hand against her cheek.
He turns once more to Anders, his growl making the mage cringe.
"Touch her again, mage, and I will show you your heart before I crush it. " The mage, already curled into the fetal position, nods slightly, whimpering softly.
He pulls her to him, burying his face in her neck. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asks.
"Because I knew you would kill him."
"Let's go home," she whispers. He nods against her neck and she pulls him out of the clinic, using the cellar passage back into her home.
Aveline, Isabela, and Varric, after a few stunned moments, follow silently. Merrill remains behind, crossing to the battered and bloody figure of Anders on the floor.
"Oh, you poor, stupid fool." she whispers.