Moments in Time – Realisations
Desperate Acts
Rays of midday sun shone intensely through Hawke's fingers as she lifted her hand to shield her eyes. It had been months since she'd been here in any unofficial capacity.
Looking up at the once familiar sight of the Hanged Man and knowing the true symbolic meaning of the massive effigy hanging by one foot from the outside of the Inn, Hawke couldn't help but consider the suitability of this being the chosen place for Fenris to meet his sister.
The story behind the 'Hanged Man' was about a fool who settled beneath a tree intent on finding his spiritual self. After nine days of starvation and simply watching the world go by, he climbed the tree with no conscious thought and dangled himself from a branch upside down like a child, surrendering all that he was to… well, gravity, Hawke guessed. For some reason hanging upside down offered the man a new perspective on the world and gave him a true sense of clarity.
In this context, it was important to remember that the symbol of the 'hanged man' was not to represent a traitor or being inebriated - though she knew that was the main way people understood it. Nor did it even symbolise anything to do with life or death, disturbing as the image of a man bound and strung up by his ankle might appear. Instead, it was all about suspension. A being caught between what has been and what is to come. It was this idea that she found strangely apt.
Fenris's life was about to change; for the better, Hawke hoped, but right now he was caught, steeling himself to take those last few steps toward the Inn's front door. Until he did, they were held in a timeless moment of just staring at the inevitable path laid out before them, much as the Hanged Man continued to 'hang' above them, weightless as if underwater, observing, absorbing, seeing.
Hawke knew Fenris's undeniable fears of the unknown would not hold him for long, he was too courageous. He will right himself eventually, she assured herself, just as the 'hanged man' in the story.
She still felt exhausted, truth be told, though she was trying to disguise the weight she was leaning onto her staff supportively - not that Fenris appeared to have noticed. Her over-tiredness was possibly why her mind was wandering off on tangents about 'hanged men' so readily. She just couldn't shake this exhaustion. It was infuriating.
Anders had said it would pass, she just needed to give herself time to recover, but that was something she had very little patience for as 'time' in general was not a luxury she could readily afford.
Fenris closed his eyes and began whispering meditatively to himself - in what must have been Arcanum, she couldn't understand a word of it. It was the first time he'd spoken since meeting her in Hightown Market.
She hadn't remained at his mansion long after finishing her drink last night, and upon heading home again had blessedly caught a break in the appalling weather.
Juno had been curled up by the fire in the main hall waiting patiently, not willing to sleep till he knew his Mistress had returned safely, and had nudged his head against her hand apologetically for not having been out with her. He was evidently still worried about her fragile state this morning as he leaned against her leg, trying to provide her further comfort and support whilst they waited on Fenris's momentary indecision.
Blood mages! she cursed inwardly, and rubbed at her temple against the beginnings of a headache; smiling as she thought that was something Fenris might have said with similar venom.
What sleep she'd had in the end had been mercifully deep and restful, but she'd woken only wishing for more. Instead, realising she had slept the early morning away and was to meet Fenris before noon, Hawke had been forced to hastily gather herself together, simply pulling on her most comfortable leathers - that were feeling strangely loose these days - and tying up her unbrushed hair into a messy bun; hoping beyond hope that Fenris wasn't expecting her to dress up for the occasion of him meeting his sister. Thankfully, he had worn the same well fitting, slightly intimidating armour he always did and hadn't looked twice at Hawke's dishevelled appearance.
In stoic silence Fenris finally made for the door and Hawke, with Juno in tow, dutifully followed after him without a word.
"Hawke! Hawke!"
The insistent call seemed far off, floating to her across a sea of infinite shadows. She knew it was her name; knew she should respond, but lacked the will to do so.
It was an eternity before she heard anything else.
"Cei vass anavru! Hawke!"
I know that voice. I'm sure I know that voice. Fenris?
"You're not going to make me carry you to that abomination's clinic are you?"
You sound worried, you shouldn't be worried. You should never be worried... I'm here.
"She doesn't look good, Elf! She's practically delirious and this heat, she's burning up!"
Varric? Is that… What are you doing here?
"I live here, Hawke."
Her mind began to focus again at Varric's response and she realised the black waters that surrounded her were dimly lit with ghostly reflections. Her sight was drawn to the nearest one as she heard her name again.
"Hawke, look at me."
It was a face - a beautiful face. A pair of moss green eyes came into sudden focus, with dark brows knotted in concern beneath a haphazard, white fringe. Fenris? - And with the clarity came burning agony.
A feral cry escaped Hawke's lips as her mind reeled in shock, desperate to return to the cool, dark, unfocused waters Fenris's voice had pulled her from. Her body felt sluggish as she frantically tried to drag herself away from the cause of such blinding pain, but the 'fire' was internal; she could not escape it.
"Hawke, look at me!" Fenris demanded, his aversion to touch completely forgotten as his bloody hands, free of spiky gauntlets, held beseechingly to either side of her face. He looked terrified and lost as she stared helplessly back at him.
"Fenris?" she whimpered, tears escaping to roll down her face and over his fingers.
Within seconds he was standing up; pulling Hawke to her feet, despite her anguished sobs as he did so, and lifted her near effortlessly into his arms.
"Stay awake, Hawke! Listen to me, stay awake!" he growled, repeating the order again and again as the enveloping pain left her convulsing uncontrollably.
True awareness was ebbing away, but Hawke could still distantly feel the breeze in her long hair as they moved; the warmth of the afternoon sun caressing her burning flesh. She faintly recalled it had been a nice day before they'd entered the nightmare awaiting them in the Hanged Man.
Her vision swam, dimming to nothing bar Fenris's face, so close now he must have been able to feel her ragged breaths on his neck. Her last clear memory was of seeing him thrown down a flight of stairs and set upon by several demons summoned by Danarius.
"I, I thought you'd died," she said, her voice cracking weakly, clinging in awe to the sight of him, as if his image was the only thing keeping her from the abyss.
Her hand touched the side of his face tenderly as she spoke, unafraid for the first time that he would recoil, or that she might hurt him. Everything that was prevalent between them felt forgotten in those strange, endless moments between agony and nothing. His smooth, faintly tanned skin glistened slightly under her fingers, she noticed. No doubt with the overexertion of the fight she thought had killed him, to now, with the desperate effort of carrying her as swiftly as possible through the streets of Lowtown.
Hawke's light touch drew Fenris's attention just in time to witness her battle to remain conscious come to an end.
"I'm so... sorry," she whispered as her swollen, blood-shot eyes rolled back in her head.
"Hawke?"
Her gentle hand slipped limply from his cheek.
"Hawke!" Fenris cried out futilely, breaking into a sprint; uncaring of the looks he received from curious passers-by.
"Hey, Elf!" Varric called, realising he was being left to trail behind in Fenris's wake, along with Hawke's injured mabari.
Fenris no longer cared. Hawke was the only thing that mattered. The only person left in the world who truly meant anything to him, and she was dying in his arms all because of him.
Fasta Vass! he cursed, shaking his head angrily. My ridiculous hopes brought her to this. This is my fault. My fault. Still his guilt laden, aching limbs refused to run any faster.
After what seemed to take hours in his desperate urgency to get Hawke aid, Fenris stumbled the last few steps outside Anders's hidden clinic. Growling in ardent frustration when he noticed that the lantern hanging above the secret entrance remained unlit - A sign that the door was locked and the clinic closed.
Resolute, he marched straight up to where he knew the door existed, and after adjusting Hawke's dead weight in his arms, lifted his leg and slammed his foot into the panelling with all the energy he could muster. The wood gave instantly, shattering around the disguised lock and collapsing inward in a shower of splinters.
"Anders!" Fenris called out into the dark space beyond, passing carefully over the threshold and shielding Hawke's body with his own from broken pieces of wood.
The clinic was empty as he carried her through it, beginning to panic in earnest; remembering what she had mentioned on a previous visit to his mansion about the abomination spending a lot of time at her estate.
She won't survive much longer, what if the mage isn't even here?
"Anders!" Fenris called out again, his voice wavering between anger and despair. He gently lay Hawke down on one of the pallet beds, brushing aside the raven hair that had fallen over her face. "Anders!"
"Fenris?" The responding voice was low and ethereal.
He turned to see Anders leaning heavily in the doorway that led to a private room at the back of the clinic, his eyes aglow with Justice's presence. The mage's staff was held out defensively while a pale orb of light hovered above his other open palm casting a dim haze over the room. Their mutual hatred filled the space between them as they stared intently at one another.
"What are you doing he..." Anders began with disdain, but the question died on his lips as his eyes found Hawke's outstretched form lying deathly still behind Fenris. The power of the Fade Spirit drained away, along with all remaining colour from Anders's face.
Shakily he made his way forward, propping up his staff against the wall whilst whispering Hawke's given name despondently. The healer's instincts took over then and he softly placed the back of his hand to her forehead.
"Maker," he uttered in shock, feeling at the feverish heat of her skin. The orb of light shifted helpfully to hover overhead, and to his evident horror, Anders was able to see her face clearly for the first time. "Who did this?" he asked, gently probing the swelling about her eyes.
"Danarius," Fenris cursed in answer, not looking up from the sight of Hawke's tortured face.
"Danarius? As in your former Master?" Anders asked concernedly.
Fenris simply nodded once in response, watching intently as the mage's well practised hands went to work, glowing brightly as he assessed the damage the Magister had done. He lifted Hawke's arm into the light suddenly having noticed the faint spiralling scars covering her skin.
"These are new," he said in disgust. "Did Danarius do this too?"
Fenris could barely respond, lost in a sudden wave of unbidden jealousy. That Anders was somehow familiar enough with Hawke's body to know which scars were fresh…? Gods knew she'd accumulated countless injuries over the years. Most of which she'd had to treat when they were away from the city, but, perhaps she always had the abomination check them over on her return? Perhaps he simply took such opportunities to see as much as he could?
Asinu, Fenris thought fiercely.
"He didn't heal this. What would be the point?" Anders continued, pondering to himself. "If Hawke had the strength to do this... "
"It was Varania," Fenris managed finally, though his voice was hollow and weak.
Anders looked up irritably. "Who in the Maker's name is Varania?"
"My... sister," Fenris answered, pained to admit it, especially to the abomination.
"Your sister?" Anders paused, letting that piece of information sink in completely. "Your sister's a mage?"
"Elf? Blondie? Anyone left alive in there?" Varric called out from the Clinic entrance, possibly the instant he was confronted with the remnants of the once secret door.
With a sharp shake of his head Anders focused his attentions back on Hawke. "You're a bloody hypocrite, Fenris," he remarked scathingly.
Varric appeared seconds later cutting short any reply Fenris could have thought to make, but he couldn't summon the will, his attention briefly caught by the sight of Juno limping heavily to Hawke's bedside to rest his head by her hand, nudging her fingers with his nose hopefully. She didn't respond.
Silence fell as dread consumed them, left only able to watch as Anders cast spell after blighted spell. Each appearing as ineffectual as the last whilst Hawke remained unconscious and to all the world, dead.
"What's wrong with her, Blondie?" Varric asked at length, apparently unable to stand the wait any longer.
The mage didn't answer at first, too lost in concentration as beads of sweat began forming on his forehead from his efforts.
"Blood magic," was his strained and breathless answer. "It's... blood magic. I've never come across anything deadlier. I'm struggling, to stop the effects... spreading... further!" The healing glow emanating from his fingertips suddenly faded as he took a shaky step back, sighing with exhaustion.
"How is she?" Varric asked as Juno whimpered concernedly beside him.
"Stable, if still critical." Anders covered his face with his hands as he spoke, taking a steadying breath before letting them slide away. "It looks like he, Danarius, began augmenting her powers." He lifted Hawke's scarred arm into view once again; frowning deeply.
"Shit, that doesn't sound good," said Varric, running his hand through his hair nervously.
Anders looked down into Hawke's face and closed his eyes. "It isn't," he replied gravely, resting her arm back at her side.
"But you can heal her right? She's going to be okay?"
"I don't know, Varric," Anders answered. "She was already weak."
"Verimas!" Fenris snapped, his own exhaustion and undeniable fear for Hawke's life sapping his remaining, minimal patience for the abomination. "What do you mean 'you don't know'? Can you heal her or not?"
"I mean just that," Anders replied agitatedly. "I don't know."
"But she was talking only a few minutes ago Blondie, and Danarius," Varric looked fleetingly at Fenris, his eyes wincing slightly as his hand reflexively covered his throat, "well, let's just say the guy isn't going to be blowing any wind instruments any time soon. How can his magic still be affecting her?"
Anders looked between them quickly, his eyes marking Varric's nervous gesture and narrowing in disapproval. "If you drop a pebble in a pond, Varric, the effect doesn't end with the initial impact, the ripples spread," he explained.
"Right now, Blondie, slightly less articulation would be appreciated!"
"Just because the caster isn't able to receive the 'benefits' of his augmentation spell, that doesn't mean the effects aren't still active."
His explanation only served to make Fenris snort in disgust. "If you let her die, I'll kill you," he promised vehemently.
"Wonderful incentive, Elf!" Varric sighed under his breath.
"I said, 'I don't know' meaning: I don't know if what I can do will work - not that I wouldn't try you infuriating bastard!" Anders retorted, his jaw clenching. "What in Thedas was she doing fighting against Danarius anyway?"
Fenris refused to meet the abomination's accusatory glare.
"You knew didn't you?" Anders fumed. "You knew what you were potentially leading her into. Did you even tell her?"
"Don't think to know my mind mage," Fenris snarled, looking up at Anders dangerously. "Hawke is stronger than you give her credit for and in full awareness of the facts which you are not!"
"But you took her alone you bloody imbecile!" The insult was offered with all the contempt and scorn Anders could summon as he hunched in on himself again, desperate to keep control over Justice when Hawke needed his healing skills so badly.
Juno growled, showing his frustration at both of them for choosing now to have this argument.
"Did it escape your notice how fragile she was already?" Anders asked disparagingly. "Did you even care?"
Fenris's eyes widened as the mage struck a blow to the guilt already threatening to drown him. He had noticed. Of course he'd noticed. She was pale and drawn, slighter than was healthy for her, but it had not stopped him selfishly asking for her aid. She was the only one he trusted.
"You stand there threatening me, Fenris, but I'm not the one who put Hawke in danger."
"And the fact that she lives in constant danger whenever you're close by, whether from Templars, other mages or just perhaps yourself, abomination, escapes your notice does it?"
"That's rich. Whose clinic are you stood in?" Anders asked angrily. Fenris grimaced. "It seems magic is good enough for you when it serves a purpose like saving your life! That's why you had her there isn't it, to shield your unworthy ass?"
There was so much more to it than that. There was, but right then Fenris couldn't see beyond Anders's words, remembering his own when he'd asked for her help.
"Come with me, Hawke. If this is a trap I need someone who can fight to back me up."
He gripped the edge of the pallet bed, fingers aching, trying to control his frantic urge to throttle the mage who was Hawke's only chance of survival.
"Well think on this, Fenris," Anders continued, near delighting in the fact that Fenris was showing cracks in his usually stony demeanour.
He looked away, closing his eyes tight as if Anders was about to punch him.
"There's no way Hawke would have fallen prey to an augmentation hex if she had been concentrating on her own protection at the time. She's potentially dying because of you!"
"You think I don't know that!" Fenris roared, his control snapping and lyrium brands flaring to life.
Anders was momentarily stunned by the outburst of raw emotion; left staring dumbly at the glowing elf who fixed him to the spot with a hollow glare.
"Venhedis!" Fenris yelled, pushing himself away before his near-overwhelming desire to kill got the better of him. He stormed back to the clinic entrance, hammering a large, empty storage crate into the wall as he went. With that, Fenris was gone.
"Good riddance," muttered Anders, swiftly collecting himself again and briefly looking at Varric's astonished face before turning his attentions back to Hawke.
"Remind me to ask you if that was completely necessary once Hawke's kicked your ass, Blondie. I mean... shit." Varric looked warily over at the wreckage Fenris had left behind. "Didn't you hear what I said happened to Danarius?"
"Yes, I heard you. But after seeing that elf rip a man's beating heart from their chest, I am wondering why you're so surprised?"
"Who said anything about being surprised?" replied Varric. "As far as I can see the Magister had it coming, but excuse me if I've got enough warmth for my own innards not to antagonise the elf who could readily deprive me of them."
"My 'innards' are the least of my worries right now, but if you're so concerned about his feelings, you're welcome to follow him."
Varric lifted his palms defensively. "Alright, Blondie, I hear you. As much as Elf means nothing to you but a pain in the balls, and I find him, for the most part, approachable as an angsty porcupine, he does mean something to Hawke. I accept that curiousness about her, really! It's endearing. I think for your own sake it's time you accepted it too. It's obviously not one sided." He gestured slightly to Fenris's sudden absence. "Else you'd have been on the wrong end of that magical fisting thing he does years ago."
"You think I care?"
"No, but I think you should perhaps be a touch more aware of just how much Hawke sticks her neck out for you with him."
Anders glanced up from her face to look at Varric questioningly.
"What, you think their friendship is easy?" Varric asked.
Anders didn't respond. He didn't want to think about it.
"You know the other thing about Hawke, Blondie? She's got her head screwed on. A little too tight sometimes, and I'll be a son of a nug if she didn't know exactly what she was doing there with Elf today, despite the risks. I'd wager my family's cast pin on it."
Anders sighed, defeated. He leaned forward, cupping the side of Hawke's face in his hand tenderly. For a long moment he simply studied her, his eyes distant and disturbed. "Oh, Marian," he whispered softly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to calm his jealous mind.
Eventually Anders straightened up next to her, his hands glowing with the summoning of the strongest healing magic he knew.
The Fade bent and shimmered, struggling to contain the mass of imagery Hawke stirred to life about her. She stood motionless in the chaos, directly impacting but no longer influenced by what she saw, like the eye of a storm that continued to grow in ferocity the closer she came to the void.
Only one thing was certain, when the world sporadically faded, all she could recognise in the nothing was Fenris, her essence clinging desperately to that last memory of his face and the knowledge that he was miraculously alive.
"I will not let you take him," Hawke growled through gritted teeth, her will clashing against Danarius's continually as she fought back his binding dark magic.
"How touching," came the Magister's sneering reply, "yet you're in no further condition to help him, or yourself though you continue to fight," he paused, looking down at her struggling, indifferent for a moment. "Admirable, but… it's over."
The sheer truth of his words seemed to crush all Hawke's remaining strength and defences, the dregs of her mana vanishing to nothing. She was left numb and disoriented as Danarius's spell of paralysis washed over her; morbidly transfixed by the slightly feminine sway of his hips as he confidently walked forward.
"Such a waste," he said, stooping down in front of her and bringing his face and piercing grey eyes into view. "Something so... delectable. You have the purest magical talent I have ever come across - untainted in any way." His expression was almost hungry as she felt him trace a well-practised caress down the exposed skin of her arm. "And strong," he continued in response to his findings.
Though she remained unable to recoil as she wished, Hawke suddenly had a great affinity for Fenris's aversion to touch.
"I'd wager you came into your power very young." Danarius looked over her palm as if able to read the answer to his pondering there. "It would be worthy of augmenting," he added in afterthought, letting her hand drop back into her lap.
Suddenly, cold, unyielding fingers clasped Hawke's chin lifting her face unwillingly closer. "And you owe me!" he spat in a venomous whisper. "For years you've kept him from me. He was mine, body and soul. Do you truly think he wouldn't have returned to me otherwise?"
Hawkes mind rebelled even if the words could not be spoken aloud.
'He's had a true taste of freedom, Danarius. There's no way you'll have him now,' she thought victoriously, but sudden doubt claimed her heart in spite of her seething conviction.
Fenris was speaking to her after having drunk himself into a near stupor. Apparently, he'd been celebrating the anniversary of his escape from Danarius; feigning cheerfulness as he recounted the tale at length to her, until the gruesome admission of what his freedom had cost came out.
"I had grown fond of the rebels. They refused to let Danarius take me when he returned. He ordered me to kill them, so I did. I... killed them all."
Danarius unsheathed a dagger from the belt at his waist. Its sharpened edge glistened menacingly as he held it before Hawke's face.
"Now, I can't promise this won't hurt, Champion," he grinned evilly, enjoying her eyes noticeably flinch at what she knew was to come. "You made your choice," he drawled, before chanting the beginnings of the augmentation ritual.
He was right, too, she had.
It had been a desperate moment.
Fenris and Hawke were side by side, endlessly fighting to hold the stairs and their only advantage against the numbers that assailed them. Forcing their attackers to bunch closer together left them vulnerable to the mighty swings of Fenris's great sword while Hawke's chain-lightning coursed through their ranks continuously.
She had been gathering her will, momentarily distracted, concentrating solely on the swirling powers she summoned from the Fade when she felt Fenris's arm across her middle pushing her back into the corridor behind. She stumbled, falling over scattered debris and looked up just in time to see a great eruption of dark magic explode not feet away from where she had been stood seconds before.
Danarius, she realised furiously.
The blast passed through Fenris ineffectually as he allowed his body to phase completely, but the remaining Tevinter hirelings on the stairs before him died instantly.
A deep stillness filled the space about them.
Danarius had vanished.
Hawke found her feet, leaning heavily on her staff as Fenris re-solidified his being, staring anxiously about with his sword held out before him. She could see his battered body was bloodied from more than just the wounds he had inflicted on his enemies; it was a wonder he remained standing. He needed healing, but as their eyes met all she could see was the same concern for her mirrored in his expression. He shook his head fractionally and pulled a health potion from his belt pack, refusing to drain her mana further.
Fenris barely had chance to bring the phial to his lips when the air became heavy about them, pounding like a pulse in their ears.
"Maker," uttered Hawke. "Fenris!"
He looked at her, eyes widening.
"He's torn the Veil!"
Even as she called out to him the floor, walls and ceiling began to visibly swell, bruising purple and black under the constant hammering of the many demons summoned; now seeking to cross the threshold of the Fade. Fenris ran toward her, but he never made it.
Hawke had no chance of deflecting the Magister's attack. He reappeared so fast, gathering his will with such incredible speed, it left her only enough time to turn and watch the pile of stone come barrelling toward her. Her mind recoiled, readying for an impact that never came. Juno leapt seemingly from nowhere taking the brunt of the spell into his side. With a yelp, he was sent careering into the wall where he slumped to the floor and did not stir.
"Ferelden dog!" Danarius cursed, summoning another spell instantly, but Hawke was ready this time, anger fuelling her depleted will as with a flourishing spin she brought the end of her staff hammering down into the ground at her feet raining fork lightning upon the Magister. His summoned shield barely deflected her fury. She had him.
Horror then.
Her eyes strayed to her companion. Fenris had been forced to un-phase again, his seemingly endless stamina finally having failed him. It was his deadly skill alone that had beaten back the Shades now hovering unnerved at the foot of the stairs. She swiftly realised the spectres had retreated for more reason than fearing to meet his blade. The floor gave way at Fenris's heels as in molten fury a Rage Demon roared up behind him. Fenris turned to fight, but before he could swing his sword he was enveloped within a swirling torrent of flame.
Hawke could sense Danarius's dark will gathering another spell before her, she knew she was about to feel his wrath in earnest, even as terror gripped her at the sight of Fenris being burned alive, and there was the choice.
Protect herself or protect her friend?
It was never really in question. She could not let Fenris die.
With no care for her own defence, Hawke summoned the greatest healing spell she could and let it wash over him. Revitalised, Fenris rolled clear of the flames, swinging his sword defiantly as he found his feet again.
The hope she felt at the sight was short lived, however, as a sudden brutal swipe from the Rage Demon sent Fenris crashing down the stairs out of sight and into the waiting horde of Shades.
Crippling agony gripped Hawke then as Danarius's unchecked spell was unleashed. She was lifted several feet off the floor and unceremoniously crushed before her limp body was dropped in a heap.
She sucked in great lungful's of air, feeling her ribs protesting with every breath. Some were broken, she knew. Her heart raced uncontrollably on adrenaline and fear as she tried to right herself again, gagging on the taste of blood in her mouth and wincing with every attempted movement. She had no idea whether her healing spell had been enough. It had cost her everything, but she found in that moment all she could think was how she had failed her friend.
The quiet Arcanum chant that Danarius had begun faded as the images shifted again.
"We may not have been friends in the beginning Hawke, but you must know, we are now."
As Hawke found herself looking down at a very different blade to Danarius's dagger, she finally asked herself the question she had never spoken: Just friends?
The sword owner's face was in deep shadow while the sharp point of the massive sword, hovering just below her chin, shimmered in the rays of moonlight. Fenris's deep, guarded voice came to her out of the darkness.
"There are few mages I know able to look down the blades edge without a trace of fear. You truly are more dangerous than I first thought."
Without a trace of fear? she wondered. Is that truly what he saw? She had been terrified at the time.
A vapour of blood swirled about the length of the blade Danarius brandished. It was his own, something to begin the augmentation with and bind Hawke's life energy inextricably to his own. The Magister's eyes glowed with the dark power that coursed through him; his expression equally crazed and exultant as he leered over her. Then, as a painter might stand reflecting upon an empty canvas, wondering at that initial stroke of a brush, Danarius deliberated over Hawke's body where to carve the magic into her flesh, dragging the point of cold steel over various parts of her anatomy thoughtfully. His eyes found the pale unblemished skin of her outstretched arm and he smiled wickedly. Of course, she could not be allowed to die too quickly.
She barely felt the initial bite of the knife as the Magister began to cut a pattern along the length of her forearm. It was gruesomely familiar. A series of elegant, gracefully swirling curves soon lost behind a thick coating of red as her blood ran in earnest, pulsing in a steady rhythm that matched the pounding of her heart. His fingers coiled round his gory masterpiece then, and she could only watch in mute terror as her blood stopped seeping into her lap and - with an intense glow of his hand - began being drawn into Danarius instead.
Excruciating pain seared through Hawke's body; her mind screamed in anguish though she could give no outward sign of the agony. Her terrified eyes watched dark red tendrils crawl beneath the skin of Magister's hand and disappear behind his robe sleeve. Mere seconds later she noticed they appeared above his collar, creeping up to his jawline as he rolled his neck at the sensation of her powers being added to his own.
Her body was going into shock, she could feel un-consciousness claiming her, and was only numbly aware of Danarius's whispered euphoria. Her eyes strained to look in the direction of where she had last seen Fenris fighting for his life. Where was he now? Was he truly dead?
Reliving the fear she had known for him at that moment forced her mind to react defensively. He was her focus now, her head filling with brief, insistent flashes of him from differing times. All the while her heart repeated its soothing mantra over and over. No, he's alive. Fenris is alive.
He loomed up dark and silent as a wraith behind the unaware Magister, terrifying and glorious as his anger set him on fire with a blue glow. Only when Danarius felt the subtle contact of Fenris's gauntleted fingers about his neck did his eyes show the panic. He knew then what was to come.
With a brutal pull, Danarius was gone. Fenris sent him flying across the space behind him into a stack of barrels and crates that disintegrated beneath the mighty impact.
Hawke knew she was released from the Magister's spell, she could sense her body able to stir, but she could only stare up at Fenris as he stared down at her, and time slowed between them - his dark green eyes lingering on hers with more than just a furious lust for revenge. He cared about her, more than she'd ever realised. She watched as he took in the sight of her maimed arm. His lip curled in a snarl as he turned away.
She panicked, thinking him leaving her there, but soon understood he was stalking over to where Danarius was stirring to life out of the settling dust and shattered wood.
"Fenris, I am your Master. I order you to stop!" His voice was shaking with undeniable dread as his creation, undeterred by the command, mercilessly reached down and grasped him by the throat, lifting him easily into the air with the one hand. "Fenris," Danarius gasped, clawing madly to find purchase on Fenris's iron grip.
Spiky gauntleted fingers pierced Danarius's skin as Fenris held him there for a moment, clearly relishing the fear he had waited so long to bestow upon the bastard who had tortured his life and refused to let him be. He glared up at his former Master with cold, resolute eyes.
"You are no longer my Master," he growled fiercely, cleanly ripping out the Magister's throat in a red haze of arterial spray. Danarius's body slumped to the floor, his last bloody breaths gurgling out of the torn hole in his neck with sickening pops.
Fenris turned to look at her again then, stepping away from the pooling blood at his feet. His body hunched with a thousand hurts both mental and physical, and Hawke watched the warring emotions blazing through his eyes in an instant. The last was outrage.
"Get away from her!" he roared, rushing back.
Having eyes only for him in that moment Hawke hadn't noticed Varania at her side, holding her damaged arm in hand. The elf was trying desperately to stem the flow of blood that had resumed the moment Fenris had torn Danarius's grip away. She determinedly continued her efforts despite her brother's anger. Hawke barely cared, her mind remained blissfully unfocused, though as Varania began to speak she desperately tried to listen.
"I'm sorry it came to this, Leto."