Fenris stood helpless behind Hawke's barrier, not sure what he would do if he were free. She had offered to make a deal with Danarius. But had she meant it? Danarius didn't seem to think so. When the barrier first went up he thought she was entrapping him. He was enraged, defeated. He wanted to kill her, but knew he never could. She was the closest thing he had to a friend. He remembered his cowardice and knew that if she betrayed him now, he would have only himself to blame. He felt miserable.
But that was nothing compared to what he felt when he saw Danarius's ceremonial knife slide into Hawke's belly.
Fear was a living thing inside of him, insisting that he do something, anything to save her. But he did not fling himself at the barrier, much as every muscle demanded that he do so, and he did not cry the force field would probably only hurt her more, drain her magic further and lower her chances of survival. And his cries of protest would goad Danarius on.
Both actions would also incite a riot in an already panicking population trapped behind the barrier with him. Someone was crying and someone else was being sick. Fenris studiously ignored both.
"Not long now, my little wolf," Danariusturned his back on Hawke, giving Fenris a lazy smile. "Your protector's blood will be your undoing."
And Fenris could see that he was right. Hawke had been trying to protect him. Trying to stall for time. Trying to come up with a plan. She was going to die, and Fenris had asked her to come. He'd asked her to put herself in this danger.
The barrier flickered around him, failing like an oxygen-stifled fire. It would blink out soon, and he would have to face Danarius alone. He tightened his grip on his sword, determined to make it to Hawke's side the moment the barrier fell. To save her. Or at least ensure she didn't die alone.
He levelled cold eyes at Danarius, filled with the years of hate he had for this man. And that's when Danarius's head jerked back and his neck burst open. Hot blood poured down his fine magisters robes. Someone screamed.
"Can't hope to defeat you with this, huh?" Hawke muttered from behind the fallen magister. Fenris stared at her, open-mouthed. One hand wasknotted in his former master's hair, the other held her small knife. There was a fierce look of determination on her face as she glared at her fallen opponent. Not disgust. Not triumph. Just determination. He realized nothing and no one was going to stop this woman. Ever.
And he was in love with her. Had been in love with her since the moment he met her. The truth hit him in the chest like a blast of winters grasp. It was terrifying. And obvious.
Over the last three years he'd told himself again and again that the attraction between them was just physical. A stupid lusty infatuation.
He'd been lying. He knew that now.
Yes she was human.
Yes she was a mage.
And yes, he was in love with her.
How those three things could be true simultaneously, he didn't know. But they were. That could not be denied anymore.
The barrier failed as Hawke's knees gave way. Faster than thought, Fenris activated his lyrium and slammed through the cluster of demons, scattering them in his wake. He caught her before she hit the ground.
"Hey," she mumbled, "what happened to my barrier?"
"It failed," he replied curtly. He could hear the demons gathering behind them. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, knowing what must happen next. "I apologize" he said softly, as he gently lowered her to the ground.
She raised her eyebrows in confusion, obviously not knowing why he was apologizing.
"This will be. . . unpleasant" he offered by way of explanation and turned in a blur, slicing through the advancing demons that he had scattered as he charged towards her. He heard a startled cry of pain ripped from her lips as he tore through them, and cringed inside, knowing he was the cause.
This was the part of blood magic that no one ever mentioned. Demons called by blood were tied to that blood. Killing them inflicted pain on the original source. Another reason why magisters preferred not to use their own blood when casting.
Every blow her landed brought her screams to his ears. In his peripheral vision he could see her body convulse and twitch as fresh blood gushed from the deep stomach wound. He set his jaw and vowed to make every kill clean and swift. No woundings. No glancing blows. Where his sword fell it brought death. He could offer her that much.
It was over in moments. It felt like hours. When Fenris finished he stood, panting, gathering his breath. He heard Hawke's gasping whimpers and something else. Low, and soft. Chanting.
Varania.
She crouched under the table she'd sat at when he'd first laid eyes on her. She was casting, using the power of her freely flowing blood from a small nick in her wrist. He knew this spell. He remembered it from Tavinter.
A security spell.
He strode over and upended the table, sending the tavern patrons who had taken shelter there scrambling and screaming out of the way. He paid no attention to them, hauling his sister up by her red hair and striking her across the face. As spell died on her lips the back door burst open. Varric came charging in ready for battle. He could hear splintering wood out front and knew Aveline was coming as well.
Varric froze at the top of the stairs, his eyes resting on Hawke's prostrate form. "Maker have mercy," he whispered, dropping Bianca and rushing to Hawke's side. He pressed down over Hawke's right hand, adding pressure to the stomach wound.
"Hey, Varric," Hawke whispered through lips devoid of colour, "I'm on the floor of a tavern. Never thought that'd happen."
"Cheer up," Varric soothed hoarsely, "today the floor smells more like whiskey than vomit." His voice sought for levity, but didn't quite achieve it.
Aveline burst through the front door and paused, taking in the carnage. "I'm sorry," she said to Fenris, "I couldn't get the door open."
"Security spell," Fenris said shortly, pushing Varania back down, "no one could get in or out."
"Aveline," Varric cut in, "we need Blondie. Now."
Aveline noticed Varric and Hawke for the first time. She paled, but nodded sharply and dashed out the way she'd come.
Fenris turned on his sister, still lying where he'd dropped her, staring at him like a mouse cornered by a cat, a trail of blood dripping from the corner of her mouth.
"You did this," he spat. He could feel the rage building and absently noticed his tattoos engage without any memory of choosing to activate them. It would be a clean death. Cleaner than she deserved. But he had no stomach for torture, and he wanted it over.
He bent over her as she ineffectually tried to back away. He seized her by the shoulder, holding her still, preparing to drive his fist into her heart.
"Don't," the voice was no more than a whisper, but it stilled him instantly.
Without moving, he replied "she would have killed you, Hawke." she still might succeed, he thought, if the Abomination doesn't hurry. "This is kinder than she deserves."
"I don't care about her," Hawke answered. "Fenris. . . she's you're sister. " The blue tint of lyrium faded as Fenris considered her words. She'd lost her whole family. She had killed her own brother in the deep roads to prevent the blight from taking him. But this, this was different.
This was revenge. His tattoo's blazed to life again.
"She's right, broody," Varric called out. "Trust me. After Bartrand . . . I think I know what I'm talking about. You do something like this. . . it'll change you. Not for the better."
Fenris turned to look the dwarf in the face and saw weariness and pain there. No mocking. No joviality. For the first time, he suspected, Varric was telling the truth without embellishment or hyperbole. He nodded, shoving Varania away from him again. "Get out of my sight," he snarled at her, turning his back on her and moving back to Hawke.
"You asked for this, you know," Varenia called out. "You competed for it. You wanted those tattoos. When you won the competition, you were given a boon. You asked for our freedom. But I think you got the better end of the deal."
"I think you'd better go now before broody changes his mind," Varric remarked casually, unholstering Bianca and training her on Varania. "Or before I get a bit trigger happy. I've already killed my own sibling. What's someone else's?"
Varenia blanched, then turned and scampered off.
"Okay, now that she's gone," Varric said softly, turning his attention back to Hawke, "you still doing alright, Champ?"
Hawke mumbled a reply. It was barely audible even to Fenris's keen elven ears. A fist of ice settled in his stomach when Varric met his gaze, despair written all over the dwarf's face.