A/N: Everything belongs to Bioware. Except, I'm fairly sure this isn't what Bioware have in mind that lyrium poisoning would do...
The lantern was out. Maker, no. This couldn't wait until morning. He looked down at Hawke, lying in his arms gasping for breath, face swollen and distorted.
"I'm going to have to put you down for a minute," he said, "I'm sorry - I need to go and wake Anders."
Hawke nodded, wheezing through her tears.
Fenris banged on the clinic doors as if a horde of Darkspawn were snapping at his heels. It took some minutes before they swung open to reveal the healer, groggy with sleep and looking as angry as Fenris had ever seen him.
"Wha-" he began, before Fenris pointed at Hawke. The mage let out a small cry and instantly swung into action, picking her up and carrying her to one of his examination tables.
"Maker, Hawke. What in all Thedas has happened to you?" Anders cupped his hands around her head, frowning.
Fenris looked embarrassed. "I think it might be lyrium poisoning."
"Lyrium poisoning? But how...?"
That was a very good question.
The night had started so well. He had been down to his last bottle of Aggregio, and had invited Hawke to share it. It was a special occasion, after all - the anniversary of his escape. They sat and drank and toasted his freedom. They'd each talked of their pasts, stories that hadn't been spoken aloud for years. They'd moved closer to each other, the warm heat of their bodies and the sparks in their eyes telling their own tale of respect, of affection, of desire.
He had kissed her, and to his amazement she had responded. The first kiss he could remember, and it was one he would never forget.
He would never forget the first time she made him come, either, but for entirely different reasons.
Oh, but it had been a wonderful feeling. To look down at the most beautiful woman he knew, her soft lips wrapped around his shaft, sliding his length into her mouth and smiling up at him. He had experienced sensations that he'd never imagined possible, had felt truly content for the first time he could remember. He'd cried out as she brought him to climax, releasing violently into the wet heat of her mouth.
And then she had started to choke.
He'd brought her water, thinking that perhaps he'd been too eager, too rough with her. But she couldn't even swallow, her throat closing and whistling as she gasped for air. Her neck swelled, her cheeks were purple and puffy. She couldn't speak, her eyes panicked and pleading. He knew he had to get help, had gathered her into his arms and run, sprinted the entire way to Darktown.
And here they were.
"Fenris? I said, how do you know it's lyrium poisoning? Why would she even touch lyrium... Oh." Anders froze, looking a question at the elf, his expression stricken.
"Yes. Oh. Now, help her! You're wasting time."
Anders sighed and began to cast his healing magic.