A/N: My first shot at fan fiction. I named this one "Harvestmere" because I was listening to "October" by Eric Whitacre while writing it. Please give it a listen while you read. Also, I may or may not expand on this story depending on how well it is or is not received. At any rate, I appreciate any comments and/or reviews. This was betaed, but not very well. So feel free to point out any obvious errors.
Harvestmere.
It was raining.
It seemed an odd juxtaposition to the battle that had raged through the city only moments earlier, the world falling still and silent into the aftermath of such brutal, unnecessary , violence. I stood before the blackened husk that had been the Knight-Commander of the Templar order, head tipped back and eyes closed, allowing everything to fade away into the soft touch of water against my face. The chill air was a relief air was blessedly cold against my battle-warmed skin, though the stench of death still lingered in the air.
It was over. Orsino and most of the Circle were dead. Meredith was dead. The Grand Cleric was dead. The Viscount was still undecided. Anders was still waiting on me to figure out what to do with him. The Chantry was in ruins and there were probably a thousand other decisions that would demand my attention eventually. But for now it was over and I could simply stand and breath.
"We should get out of here, Hawke. Meredith's supporters will be out for blood, your blood." Aveline gripped my shoulder in a gauntleted hand, a grim look in her eyes and her mouth set in a thin line. So much for victory. Exhaling a heavy breath, I surveyed my surroundings and made note of my companions. Varric, mostly uninjured except for a nasty bruise forming on his right temple. Merrill had taken a particularly bad hit, but seemed to have emerged unscathed and smiling. Anders, over in the corner, leaning against a pillar and looking down at -
"Fenris…" I breathed. He was on his back at Anders' feet, blood spilling from a gash that stretched from right shoulder to left hip. He wasn't moving and there was so much blood, and he wasn't moving. Fear wrapped its icy tendrils around my heart as my stomach dropped to somewhere below my feet. He looked dead.
"Hawke? What's…Oh, flames." Aveline had followed my line of sight to Fenris, then graciously hooked an arm around me to guard against my suddenly weak knees. I pushed away from the guard-captain, stumbling the length of the gallows to collapse at his side. Varric and Merrill stayed silent and shocked behind me, Aveline following and settling beside them.
The world seemed to slow as I placed my shaking hands near his wound, closing my eyes and reaching deep inside myself, to the discordant harmony that was the Fade. I tugged at what remained of my connection, coaxing mana to flow through me and into his wound. I was not a skilled healer, however, and the battle had left me exhausted and drained. I managed to do no more than stitch together a small artery, and as I felt panic begin to set in, I looked up at Anders' still and silent form.
"Anders." I said softly. He did not respond. "Anders!" I said again, hands balling into fists against Fenris' chest. I heard him sigh.
"No, Hawke." He shifted uncomfortably, turning his head away. I was speechless for a long moment, then narrowed my eyes and glared at him.
"Why?" After everything he'd put me through – lying to me, manipulating me, using me to further an agenda I would have condemned had I known what he planned. He was going to deny me this?
"He hates us. Hates you, no matter how much you try to deny it. I won't heal someone whose entire world is colored by one single experience. Besides," Anders murmured softly, "he is nearly beyond even my help." He turned to look at me, pity in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Hawke, but I won't help someone so closed-minded. Not anymore."
My eyes widened. "You self-righteous bastard!" I yelled at him. "You never took the time to know him. You have no right to judge him, or us, for that matter. What gives you the right?" As my fury grew, the Fade twisted and pulled and struggled to be let loose. With no small amount of self-control, I managed to avoid opening up the earth below the mage. Barely. Anders said nothing in response, only looked at the ground.
"He was tortured and enslaved. Forced to have lyrium cut into his skin! In his shoes, you'd have come out of that feeling the same. In fact, you do. Why else would you have blown up the Chantry?" Anders finally turned to look at me, grief and anger bringing Justice to life. I sucked in a trembling breath, wondering if I had gone too far when Varric gripped my shoulder with a warm hand.
"Hawke…" He gestured to Fenris, and when I looked I could not see him breathing. Panic replaced fury, which quickly gave way to deep-seated fear. Not another death. Not again. Not him.
He and I had rarely agreed about anything, in the first few years we had known each other we spent more time arguing than talking. But eventually the arguments turned to debates, and the debates gave way to genuine conversation. We had both let down barriers and shared the parts of ourselves that were vulnerable and broken. In one emotional night, we had gone far beyond the bounds of friendship – but that had been a mistake. Fenris had left me, saying that it was too much, but I held on. I was far from perfect myself, and as we navigated the stormy water that was - is our friendship we eventually found our way back to each other. And now…I took several deep breaths, desperately searching my memory for something, anything that could prevent his coming death.
"No…" I grit my teeth together as an idea began to form, born from a faded memory of my father. "No." I said again, my father had taught me a revival spell. It was a dangerous spell, but I had to try it. I pulled my pack around and began rummaging around inside, finally pulling a mortar and pestle, a bundle of elfroot, and my last two lyrium potions from its depths. Raw lyrium would have been better, but the potion would have to do. I combined the elfroot and lyrium in the mortar and began to grind it into a thick paste. "I'll do it." I had to. I wouldn't just let him die, not without doing everything I could to save him. Now who's the crazy mage?
"Are you sure you want to do this, Hawke? You can barely heal a bruise, what makes you think you can bring the brooding elf back from the dead?" Varric spoke from my left shoulder, concern in his normally jovial voice. A sudden sadness gripped me, and I stopped grinding to cover his hand with my own.
"My father was a healer, Varric. He taught me a few tricks." I said softly. What I didn't add was that the spell required a tremendous amount of skill and mana, neither of which I had in abundance. Bethany would have been the better mage for this. But I didn't have Bethany, I had me, and I was going to have to do.
"Hawke, what are you doing?" I had forgotten Anders was there. His eyes widened when he saw what I was combining. "No. Hawke, don't do this. You're – I can't even cast this spell without nearly dying, and you're nowhere near the healer I am." I snorted, but said nothing. He kneeled down opposite me, bringing his hands to rest on mine, stopping my task. I looked up, annoyed. "You are worth far more than this… this slave." He tried to say it gently. Maybe it had been a mistake to hold back my anger.
I glared him a long moment, aware that every second I wasted fighting with him was another second Fenris slipped further from my grasp. I yanked my hands away and continued smashing the pestle into the mortar. Maybe with a little more force than was necessary. Whatever . Anders threw his hands up and returned to his pillar, a mixture of resentment and worry crossing his faceeatures, mixed with a little Justice at the corners of his eyes. I downed the second lyrium potion, the Fade flaring into life inside me as I ignored Anders''s tantrum.
Once the balm was smooth, I began spreading it onto my palms as I tugged at the Fade, gathering mana in preparation for what I was about to do. My palms tingled as I placed one into the wound in Fenris' chest, the other on his forehead. I took a deep breath and held it for a moment, steadying my thoughts. My heart hammered in my chest. Ok...Ok. I can do this. Maker, give me strength…and maybe let me live through this, too.
I began to chant softly in Arcanum, letting myself relax into the song that was the Fade. At first I tugged at it impatiently, but after a moment I stopped pulling and simply let it fill me. Varric shifted behind me, crossing his arms and tilting his head.
"I thought there was no such thing as a 'spell'?" He asked my companions softly.
"Oh, no, there isn't. But the chanting helps us to focus." Merrill replied, equally as soft.
"And Hawke needs all the focus she can get. Got it."
They remained silent after that, content to stand and watch. I felt the Fade begin to pulse with my heart, the song shifting and changing to match the canter of my chant. I took a deep, stilted breath as my hands began to glow, lyrium catching the magic and magnifying it. Careful…I gently began to funnel it through my hands and into Fenris, and noticed that the lyrium in his skin stayed dark. I wasn't sure what worried me more, that he was silent in the wake of such powerful magic, or that his lyrium did not respond to it. That worry gripped me, and as it did the magic began to drown me, rushing over and through me, pulling me along in its current. It was bright and brilliant and so, so hot. Control it! My mind screamed as I struggled to dam the flow, fighting against the current, stubbornly refusing to let it take me. It was at that moment that my father's voice sounded loud and heavy in my head.
Do not fight it, Kat, let it flow through you. Healing magic is not about control, but surrender.
So I closed my eyes, tipped my head back, and surrendered.
The sudden rush of unbridled magic overwhelmed me. It swept me up in its current, completely and utterly out of my control. White-gold light suddenly, and violently, erupted from my hands, reaching up my arms to envelope me in its song. I let it, breathing deep and slow, no longer having to pull it from the fade. There was no turning back, now. I would either heal Fenris or die trying. My father's voice sounded in my head again.
That's it, my child. Surrender to your desperation, to your need, to your…desire.
Magic ripped out of me as I sank deeper into the Fade, eyes squeezed shut against the brilliance pouring from my body. I heard someone shout, maybe someone crying. I did not care. I was a conduit for the magic, a vessel to channel it into the elf I loved so damn much. I willed his flesh and bone to knit, his heart to beat, and forbid his spirit passage from his body. There was another blinding flash of light, and Fenris' wound began to glow with the magic.
"Maker's breath…" Aveline swore. Then a gasp.
"Oh…how beautiful." Merrill sighed .
"Wow." Breathed Varric.
I don't know how long I was like that. It could have been seconds, it could have been years. All I knew was the magic, all I was, was the magic.
Give yourself to me.
I gave myself up, and when I did, the lyrium began to light. Hesitantly, at first, just a small glimmer that started at his chin and worked its way down his tattoos. Then faster, rushing down the length of his body and growing, pulsing, shouting with the magic. He glowed with me, and just when I thought I could not take it anymore, just when I felt like I was about to fail… Fenris coughed and opened his eyes.
Elation, and joy, and love quickly replaced the fear as he looked up at me. Confusion lit his eyes as I let the magic fade, feeling somewhat empty at its absence. The world returned in a rush.
"Hawke…" He muttered. I only put my palm to his jaw, letting my thumb stroke over his cheek. Tears stung at the corners of my eyes.
Suddenly, darkness overwhelmed me and the world lurched sickeningly beneath me. Something…was wrong. I was not alone. I was not alone! I pulled in one ragged breath and felt the world fall away.
Then…all went dark.I let the magic go, sucking in a sharp breath as it retreated back into the fade. I lowered my head, opening my amber eyes to stare into the emerald depths of the elf that lay before me.
"Maker's breath, Fenris, I thought I'd never see you again." I wasn't ashamed at how my voice cracked, wasn't ashamed of the tears that tracked down my cheeks and onto his ruined breastplate. He didn't say a word, only grabbed the back of my head roughly and brought me down to him. I nestled into his neck.
"Hawke." He murmured, and I felt relief wash over me at the sound. "What did you do?" I pulled myself back and stared at him again.
"I…saved you. Cast a…healing spell." I narrowed my eyes and gripped my head. Something was wrong.
"Hawke?" Fenris winced as he pulled himself up, gripping my shoulders as my breathing quickened. I reached a hand forward, blindly searching for him as a thick, pulsing blue cloud began to cloud my vision. Suddenly…
Come, my pet. I have kept my end of the deal, time to keep yours.
Andraste's ass, I wasn't alone. I wasn't alone! What had my father said? Something about powerful magic and strong wills leaving a mage vulnerable to a demon's call...
"Fenris….demon…" I strained against the personality struggling to take control of me, and felt his hands tense on my shoulders.
"No…No!" He cupped my face in one hand, his green eyes drilling into me.
"S…sorry. I…love you." I needed to say it, had to say it, while I was still myself. He only stared at me, his face twisting as I began to lose.
"Hawke, fight this. Do not bring me back only to leave me." He whispered, bringing his forehead to mine. I tried to fight, but I had so little fight left. I felt myself slip.
"Hawke?" He shook me, gently. "Hawke!"
I fell into oblivion as the demon took control.