"It appears that Kirkwall has a new Champion."

Fenris watched Knight-Commander Meredith declare Hawke Champion of Kirkwall, olive eyes taking in the woman's tight smile and clenched jaw. The Knight-Commander's hand was so tight on the pommel of her sword that he could hear the leather wrapping creak, even with the celebrations. It was obvious to him, if no one else, that if she resented the praise and adulation that was preventing her from dragging Hawke to the Circle. His gauntlet creaked in response as his hand clenched, then released slowly. If Hawke went to the Kirkwall Circle, she was guaranteed to be Tranquil within days, if not hours of passing through the Gallows.

If anyone had told him when he came to Kirkwall that he would ever believe there was a mage that deserved to live outside the Circle, he'd have laughed in their face. If that person also told him the same mage would hold his heart in her hands and he would wish to actively prevent her being locked up in a Circle..., he honestly didn't know what he'd have done. Torn their heart out of their chest for lying to him, most likely. Nobles were crowding around her, and her eyes locked with his. A desperate 'help me' was mouthed in his direction, and he straightened from the pillar he had been leaning against. Hawke pushed her way towards him, attempting to play nice with the nobles by nodding to the ones shoved out of her way, a pinched smile pasted on her face.

Fenris frowned, ignoring Varric's comment about him brooding over a victory. To anyone who didn't know Marian as he did, the pinched look would be a little thing, as would the way she was holding her halberd to her side instead of placing it in the sling on her back. Was the dark gray fabric of her mantle darker there on her side? It was hard to tell where the red wrap belt (the very one he had torn the scrap that wound around his wrist from) crossed her stomach and hips. In a way that would appear carefree to the casual observer, she flung her arm over his shoulder before gasping out, "Send someone for Anders."

Without her arm blocking it, he could see the tear in Marian's side. The Arishok's blade must have cut her near in half and her supply of potions and the Heal the abomination had taught her had kept her from dying during the fight.

Aveline's panicked shove gave Donnic a five-stair head start on the trip to Hanged Man, their agreed-upon meeting place in case of trouble. Fenris supposed that if a horde of rampaging qunari didn't count as trouble, nothing would. If the abomination wasn't there, he would be at Hawke's estate. Marian was leaning heavily against him on her uninjured side, halberd banging around as he hustled her down the stairs and her grip on it became weaker. Aveline grabbed the halberd away and snapped, "Fenris, carry Hawke before she falls and makes it worse."

"I wouldn't. I only make things worse in unexpected ways. Falling is totally expected." Her voice was sing-songy, and she stumbled on the last stair. He caught her, then scooped her up as Aveline had suggested. Varric, serious for once, muttered, "She doesn't look so good."

He was right. Marian's normally tawny skin was turning ashen. He picked up his pace, running as fast as he could, Varric and Aveline hot on his heels, praying to the Maker he still wasn't sure he believed in that he wasn't tearing the wound more. "Marian, stay with me."

Her breath was warm against his neck as she whispered, "I hear Father and Mother calling my name. And Bethany."

"No! I will not allow it!"

Orana let out a terrified shriek as Fenris kicked the door of the Hawke estate open. Bodhan brandished a frying pan at him, then shrank back, "Oh, Messere Fenris! Mistress Hawke!"

"Not enchantment."

"Not now, Sandal! Mistress Hawke is hurt! Help Orana boil water, Messere Anders will be here soon."

Fenris ignored them while he raced up the stairs to Hawke's room, taking them two at a time. Valor charged up after him, barking and whining. Gently, he laid Marian on the bed, pressing his hand to her side. Hot, wet, too wet. He shoved the crying mabari's nose out of the way as Valor whined louder. Tearing his gauntlets off, Fenris began unbuckling and unwrapping what he could with trembling fingers to see the actual wound. The fabric belt went sailing, and when the gray fabric of the coat parted… "Varric! Get the abomination here now!"

"The 'abomination' is here already, now move." Anders shoved Fenris aside, crate of lyrium potions rattling as it skidded to a stop next to the bed, and called to Bodhan for hot water and bandages. He went pale when he saw the wound, and the ashen tone of Marian's face. "No, don't you dare!"

Fenris stumbled back, torn between snarling at the mage and hovering over Marian. Aveline decided for him, pulling him out of the room and dragging him to the library. "Give him room to work, Fenris."

He slumped into the chair in front of the fireplace, silver head falling into his hands. Valor set his large, square head on his knee, whining and pawing at his armored shin. Fenris set a hand between the mabari's ears, feeling the prickle and burn of tears in his eyes. After all Marian had done for him, he had abandoned her, and he still didn't know how to explain himself. What if she died? The red scrap he'd taken from her belt mocked him. Valor whined again, earning a gentle sat there, elf and mabari, until Sebastian's soft brogue cut in. "Do you wish to pray for Hawke with me, Fenris?"

"I… yes. Yes I do." Fenris knelt next to Sebastian, not paying attention to the words, but his friend's presence and the cadence of his voice was a comfort. If… when Marian recovered, he would take Sebastian up on his offer to visit him to talk. Anything to be worthy of her, after mucking it up as he had, no matter how long it took. He heard Merrill clatter in with Carver, who made his presence known with a bellow for an update on Marian's condition, followed by a yelp and Orana scolding him to keep his voice down. Brave girl, slapping a templar. Eventually, most of them ended up grouped around Sebastian, heads bent. If they weren't praying, they were at least thinking of Hawke, Fenris hoped. Donnic and Aveline held hands as they knelt, Carver fidgeted next to Merrill, and Varric ran up and down the stairs in shifts with Bodhan, bringing hot water or clean rags from Orana to Anders, and taking down pots with the dirtied rags.

"It's done, Hawke will live. I need to rest." Anders stumbled out of Hawke's room and wove into the guest room. Fenris shot up and hurdled over Sebastian, only slowing when he stopped next to the bed. Marian was asleep, black hair fanned out on her pillow and comforter pulled up to her shoulders. He gently worked her hand out, trusting the others would give him a few moments to be alone with her. Resting his forehead against the back of her hand, he ground out, "I will not let you fight alone again for as long as I live, for any reason, Marian Doraline Hawke."

"Don't."

"Hawke?" Fenris looked up in surprise. Marian's eyes, the green of spring leaves, were cracked open, and she had a grimace on her face.

"Don't ever do that again."

"I-what?" She didn't want him to fight at her side?

"I hate my middle name, and I don't know how you found it out, but if you use it ever again, Fenris, I swear by my pretty floral knickers, I will end you."