A/N - NFB thanks to Whitedatura ;-)
Moments in Time - Inevitable Conclusions
Fenris had never seen Hawke like this; it made him uneasy more than anything else. Even as blood spilled into the palm she pressed firmly against her middle, she did not waver. The grip on her staff was unyielding while her whole being seemed to shimmer with the lingering intensity of the fight that had drained her of everything. Her face was ashen, made only more apparent by her raven hair sticking to the sweat on her forehead.
The molten remains of Knight-Commander Meredith now knelt before Hawke, a sickening result of the lyrium idol's ultimate destruction and the flames she had been utterly consumed by. Her final feral scream of agony, still dimly echoing off the stone walls of the Gallows and resonating in Fenris's sensitive ears, would be forever preserved in that hollow, shrivelled face.
They were surrounded by Templars and the remnants of carnage wrought in the heat of battle. If it turned into another conflict, Fenris doubted Hawke would survive it - not that he wouldn't try his hardest to protect her. His arms were shaking with overexertion, but he took a steadying breath and adjusted his grip on the hilt of his Blade of Mercy. Quickly glancing at the others, Fenris could see they all looked as tired as he felt, but each carried the same expression of grim determination. They were in this with Hawke to the end, no matter what.
The tension was palpable, but in an instant the gravity of everything that had transpired visibly drained the fight out of the Templars. Though he had stood with Hawke against Meredith's madness, Knight-Captain Cullen physically recoiled from Hawke's intense glare. Fenris couldn't blame him; Cullen had originally planned to arrest her before the Knight-Commander's true intentions had become clear. He looked lost now as he backed away, struggling with how to proceed. The rest of his men quickly followed suit, and without a word Hawke turned on her heel and marched toward the entrance to the Gallows.
Her usually graceful gait was laboured but purposeful. She didn't look at Fenris as she passed, her eyes fixed determinedly ahead, but her expression would haunt him for a long time. The gentle softness of Hawke's features had crumbled away, leaving behind only a mask of stone. Her approachable demeanour, which normally exuded a distinct aura of calm, was gone. She had been pushed to the brink and it terrified him.
The others were turning to follow her, but Fenris found he was unable to move, staring after her, transfixed by his own fears. It was Varric's voice that cut through his growing discomfort.
"Come on, Elf. Let's go while the going's good. I haven't got enough energy to bullshit our way out of this one." Varric's normally light-hearted expression was riddled with warring emotions similar to Fenris's own and a brief understanding passed between them as their eyes met. Fenris nodded resolutely and, with one final glower at the surrounding Templars, he went after Hawke.
At the base of the Gallows steps, Hawke stumbled to the side, dropping her staff and catching herself against one of the pillars. Juno barked with concern, nudging his large head against the back of her leg before turning to grumble and growl at the rest of them as they caught up. His meaning could not have been clearer: Help her. Hawke didn't seem to realize Juno or any of her companions were there, her eyes were closed and her forehead was pressed to the cold stone. Her bloodstained left hand was still clutching her stomach wound.
Merrill was at Hawke's side instantly. "Alright, alright," she whispered softly as Juno continued to whine and whimper. At first she had some difficulty trying to prize Hawke's hand away to assess the wound, but eventually Hawke submitted numbly to the inspection, unable to speak even though Merrill was rambling on about something as she always did when she was nervous.
Fenris scowled, watching the blood mage closely as she removed what torn material she could from the gaping wound. It appeared deep but not fatal as long as they acted quickly. Fenris was certain Hawke would've healed it herself if she hadn't been completely drained. She would never rely on anyone else to tend to her, especially Merrill, unless it was desperately necessary. Unsurprisingly, Merrill was also too weak to use magic, yet Fenris noticed she was physically unhurt.
Strange, he thought, when the rest of them were covered in grazes and minor injuries. No doubt she drained some poor bastard dry. His expression darkened further. Fenris's keen senses had certainly felt the dark rawness of her magic swirling wildly about in the chaos. The memory of it troubled him deeply.
Merrill replaced Hawke's bloodstained hand over the gash. "Keep pressure on there," she said with a soft pat and turned her attention to making a poultice from their remaining supplies.
Silence descended on them, and for a long time the only thing that could be heard was the gentle pounding of Merrill's pestle and mortar as her skilful hands crushed herbs.
Fenris was growing more restless by the second, the reality of the situation settling in fast. He was more than eager to be gone from this place, hoping that distancing himself might somehow mitigate what he had helped achieve here. He began pacing up and down like a caged animal.
"Easy, Elf," said Varric, lifting his hands in a placating gesture.
"This is taking too long," Fenris growled, taking the opportunity to scowl at Merrill once more.
"It'll take as long as is needed to get it right," Merrill retorted irritably. "Of course it'd go quicker if you would help me rather than prowling back and forth like the Dread Wolf!"
Fenris huffed indignantly and then surprised them all by stooping down, holding his hands out for the tools that Merrill was using. For a moment, she was too stunned to move, and then she handed the mortar over wordlessly. Fenris quickly copied the crushing technique she'd been using, desperate to occupy himself before he ran mad on ebbing adrenalin and worry. He wasn't really angry at the blood mage, at least not right now, though he couldn't help but frown as she flustered about in her pack looking for bandages.
Fenris's anger was masking the great discomfort he felt at Hawke's silence and stillness. She hadn't moved since leaning back against the pillar after Merrill's inspection of her injury. Her eyes were skyward, her face unreadable, her pale skin looked ghostly in the twilight, like she might suddenly fade from view; his chest ached at the thought. Fenris wasn't the only one who felt uneasy, both Varric and Aveline began approaching her cautiously.
"Hawke?" Varric's tone was concerned but easy, like they'd all be in the Hanged Man getting rat-arsed soon enough. She didn't acknowledge him.
In the end, Aveline grabbed her by the shoulders and physically forced Hawke to look into her face. "Hawke!" she barked, as if about to discipline a member of her guard.
"Aveline?" Hawke's voice and expression were distant. She appeared lifeless, like all the spirit had been leached out of her, but after a moment something in her visibly stirred. "Aveline," she said again with greater clarity. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to ruin your life."
"You do push loyalty to the Maker-damned limit," Aveline agreed flatly, but her tone was angerless. They regarded each other for a long moment, both reading the other's eyes. Aveline seemed resigned to whatever she saw in Hawke's; Fenris watched her nod slightly before speaking again. "Hawke... You lead, we follow."
No matter how frail she seems right now, Fenris thought.
"What now, Hawke?" Varric asked, obviously relieved at seeing her finally respond.
"We'll need to leave, tonight. Kirkwall isn't safe anymore... for any of us." Hawke's eyes drifted to Fenris then. He wasn't prepared for it and found he was unable to look away. "Fenris is right," she continued, her expression sorrowful and apologetic, trying to convey more with the look than she could put into words, but before he could comprehend she abruptly turned away. "If we take too long, we'll be meeting the blighted Templar reinforcements as they cross the harbour. We can't be here when they do!"
"Looks like Anders is going to get his revolution after all," Varric murmured, his expression falling on seeing Hawke's face turn stony again. She didn't respond verbally to Varric, but Fenris marked the brief look of disquiet she gave her own right hand, her fingers flexing under the scrutiny. The abomination's dried blood still stained her skin.
"Argh, Fenris!" Merrill's sudden outburst made him jump.
"Vishante Kaffas - what?" he snarled.
"You're going to break the bowl if you keep holding it that tight." Fenris looked down, confused, not realising till that moment that he held the mortar so firmly his hands were shaking. "I haven't got another one, so unless you want Hawke to bleed to death?" Merrill let the question hang.
"Of course I don't want that!" Fenris spat back incredulously, placing the dish down with an audible clunk in front of Merrill. "Here, take it, witch. I doubt your leaves could get more crushed." The blood mage gave a long disparaging sigh to his back as Fenris stalked away.
When he was some distance apart from the others he paused, staring darkly at a wall. Resting one hand against the stone, Fenris allowed his head to tip forward, a testament to his exhaustion. A curtain of white hair fell around his face, helping to shield him from the world. The abrupt weight of everything that had happened threatened to crush him.
This was all a terrible mistake. He had said as much, but Hawke had been resolved to protect those she deemed innocent, and he had helped her do it. Aveline was right, she really does push loyalty to its limit.
"Mages," Fenris cursed quietly, his clenching fist dragging armoured fingers over the stone surface with a satisfying scrape.
Does Hawke not know what she's done? Does she not understand what will come of her actions when word spreads across Thedas? Whether she meant to or not no longer matters. She started a war.
Fenris thought he could feel the weight of Hawke's stare on his back, but when he turned his head she was blocked from view by Merrill finally tending her wound.
That look she gave me a moment ago though... It was sad, contrite even. She knows, he realised, closing his eyes with a bitter sigh and turning away to face the wall again. It was inevitable.