He had known Hawke was going to do something stupid again. He had seen that look in his eyes. That look of grim, stubborn determination that warned Hawke was going to take a risk again. A big risk. Consequences be damned, he would fight for it, fight for what he thought was right.

And so now Hawke was dueling the Arishok. The most skilled warrior of the Qunari, whose soldiers were already known for their skills in battle. Hawke had accepted the challenge to fight a man who had arms thicker than Hawke's legs and whose chest was at the same height as Hawke's head. A man who wielded two swords as long as Hawke's arms. While Hawke wore those blasted robes.

No protection at all, Fenris thought as he curled his fingers around the scrap of red around his wrist. He clenched his teeth in frustration. He was forced to witness the duel; simply stand and watch, not interfere. No chance to stand by Hawke's side and defend him from deadly steel. His blade hung uselessly on his back, the weight an extra remembrance of what Hawke was up against. He had gotten used to the idea he would always be there to prevent swords to get close enough to Hawke to cut open his flesh. In every battle he kept an eye on Hawke, to make sure no one would get to him. Jumping between Hawke and the Arishok would get them both killed, however. Qunari expected a duel between two fighters to be honored. Interference was against the Qun and would be punished. By death. The only thing he could do was watching helplessly and hoping Hawke would actually be able to win the duel, with Anders at his right and Isabela at his left side. Aveline was standing at Anders' other side.

Dueling was the most honorable solution, with the fewest casualties. Although at the moment there is only one possible casualty I care about. The possibility of a duel had occurred to him. Perhaps he would even have suggested it himself if the Arishok had not offered the opportunity. He was not sure why, only that it seemed the right thing, and fitting for Hawke. Although now that all he could do was stand idly by, he wished he could duel the Arishok himself, in Hawke's place. Steel against steel seemed more fair than steel against magic.

But it did not matter. It had been out of his hands from the beginning. Hawke was basalit-an, worthy of respect. Even if Isabela had not suddenly returned with the tome of Koslun, the Arishok would have challenged Hawke for a duel. Fenris wondered if Hawke would have accepted then as well. Not wanting to let Isabela be dragged off to Par Vollen might play a big part in Hawke's decision.

Whatever Hawke's reasons, he was now dodging the Arishoks attacks, running to create a bit of distance between them, then cast a few spells. In front of all the nobles of Kirkwall, who witnessed the fight with eyes large of fear. Fear for their own pathetic lives. No doubt they would not care whether Hawke died or not, but only for the consequence of that for themselves. Nobles were like that.

If there is anyone who can defeat the Arishok, it is Hawke. But then why was it not over yet? The duel went on and on. The Viscount's throne room was silent. Occasional gasps from the crowd and grunts from Hawke and the Arishok were the only sounds that broke the silence. Whenever Hawke got close to where Fenris was watching, he could see sweat dripping from Hawke's face and hear him panting. He can't keep this up forever. The constant evasive moves and running started to take their toll. The Arishok appeared to be as fit as when the duel had begun.

With all the running and walking we do Hawke should not be tired yet. But walking as a way to get somewhere differed much from the quick jumps and sprints Hawke had to perform now to avoid being hit. Hawke was not used to this way of fighting. Fire, ice and the manipulation of gravity - and Fenris' blade - had made it near impossible for any enemy to get within melee range of Hawke. But the Arishok was only slowed for a short time by Hawke's spells. It never took him long to break out of the grip of ice or wade through air made thick and heavy as mud.

Hawke had reached one of the large pillars that held up the ceiling of the throne room. He turned around, fire burning at his fingertips, ready to launch a fireball. But the Arishok was closer than Hawke apparently had guessed. As the Qunari took a last step to reach his opponent, Hawke stumbled backwards to get away.

The pillar was behind Hawke.

Standing in front of him, the Arishok made Hawke look small, despite Hawke being a tall man. Hawke made a last attempt to dive out of the Arishok's reach, but he was too late. One of the swords swung forward and went right through Hawke's abdomen. Through him. Fenris saw the other end of the blade come out of Hawke's back, colored red. The fire in Hawke's hands disappeared while his eyes widened and a scream resounded from his mouth. The crowd gasped collectively in horror.

Slowly, the Arishok moved his sword, with Hawke impaled on it, up in the air. Hawke's feet were lifted off the ground. And then he was hanging above the Arishok's head, his limbs weakly floundering. If Qunari had been known for their sense of humor, Fenris would almost have believed it was supposed to be a joke. It looked so ridiculous and made Hawke appear to be hopelessly incompetent against someone like the Arishok, his attempts to take him down as meaningless and laughable as when they had come from a child.

Blood dripped on the Arishok's face. Victory could be read from his expression. Hawke's cries silenced to a soft moaning. Then that stopped too. This was not funny.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Fenris saw Anders move. Automatically he held up an arm to stop him.

"Don't touch me!" the abomination snapped. "He needs help!"

"You'll get us all killed if you interfere now."

Anders stared at him in disbelief. "Hawke is being killed right now! Get your hand off me, you heartless bastard!"

Fenris grabbed the collar of Anders' robes and pulled him closer. "Call me that again and I'll make you one as well." He pushed the mage away, so that he bumped into the people standing behind them. "You will ruin every chance of survival Hawke has if you make one move. So. Stand. Back." Aveline looked from Fenris to Hawke, gave a short nod and positioned herself in front of Anders. The statement was clear.

The abomination's eyes blazed with anger, but he did not move from his spot. Fenris turned back to the duel as the Arishok swung his sword back, then forth to let Hawke slide off it. Hawke did not move when he heavily hit the ground with a loud thud, nor did he make sound.

He can't be dead.

Fenris exchanged a worried look with Aveline. Hawke is not dead. He tightened the grip on the red sash around his wrist.

The Arishok raised his blades above his head once more, a gesture of triumph. Nobles whimpered, Qunari soldiers nodded in content, not surprised their leader had defeated the human.

Move, Hawke. Move!

Isabela took a step back. She looked like she was planning to make a run for it. Knowing what the Qunari would do with her, he could hardly blame her. On his other side, Anders finally came forward again. Fenris could feel the demon's magic lick his markings. "If he is dead now while I could have saved him..." he hissed from behind.

Fenris intended to snarl back, but then quickly returned his gaze to Hawke. Did I just see..?

Hawke moved. He turned his head in the Arishok's direction. Quietly, he got to his feet with the support of his staff, although he could not manage to stand fully upright. He leaned heavily on his staff while flames lit up around the fingertips of his free hand. The fire got brighter and brighter, until Fenris could no longer look directly into it and had to avert his eyes.

The Arishok, who had been standing with his back to Hawke, looked over his shoulder at the wave of excited whispers the foolish nobles suddenly produced. His eyebrows went up a fraction in surprise when he saw Hawke standing.

Just as he turned around to finish what he thought had been finished already, the concentrated ball of fire escaped from Hawke's hand. It hit the Arishok straight in the face, knocking him off his feet and sending him flying. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. The heat of the fire stroked Fenris' skin.

For one moment, everyone, Qunari and human alike, was silent. All eyes were directed at the burning body of the Arishok, with the expectation he would pull the same trick as Hawke had and suddenly get up again.

He did not. He raised his horned head a little; flames licked on his cheeks. "One day..." he grunted, "we shall return." The Arishok's head fell back.

When the realization hit that he was dead, the crowd burst into cheering. Hawke smiled and straightened his back somewhat while the people shouted his name and applauded for him. Fenris could not do anything but stare, still trying to process what had just transpired in front of his own eyes. He is not dead, was about all that got through. He almost fell to his knees in relief, had to force himself to keep standing. I thought he was dead.

Tumult at the entrance of the throne room drew his attention. Knight-Commander Meredith burst into the room, followed by a group of her templars. The First Enchanter followed suit. They all looked bewildered, trying to determine the current situation.

It did not take long for Meredith to find Hawke standing in the middle of the hall, leaning on his staff.

"Is it over?" The burning remains of the Arishok behind Hawke answered her question.

The nobles increased the volume of their cheering, now that everyone was completely certain they had been saved. The grin Fenris had come to know so well crept up on Hawke's face. With the room full of nobles, templars, and Qunari who were already taking their leave, Hawke was grinning at the Knight-Commander while she was forced to put her sword on her back now that there was no purpose for using it anymore, although her angry frown made it clear she would very much like to use it against a certain person. It was good to see that grin again, even though Hawke was flashing it at the leader of the templars. It had been absent since Leandra had passed away.

Within a few seconds Meredith had her face under control, and even managed something that could pass for a smile.

"Well done." Her eyes went to the staff before she looked at Hawke again. "It appears Kirkwall has a new champion." She could not prevent her mouth twisted a little when she spoke that last word.

The joy of the crowd was complete. People clapped their hands and started chanting the word "champion" over and over again. Some even stomped their feet on the ground to create even more noise.

Despite everyone's enthusiasm, Hawke's grin faded fast. Instead, his face turned alarmingly pale. He bent further over and lost his balance. Had Anders not jumped to his side to catch him, he would have fallen flat on his face. Blood that welled up from the wound in Hawke's abdomen was sucked up by the fabric of his robe, resulting in an expanding dark spot, both on his abdomen and back. What the fabric could not absorb dripped on the floor in front of his feet.

There was not that much blood a moment ago.

Anders hoisted Hawke's free arm over his shoulder to provide extra support and started to guide him towards the exit.

Fenris intended to follow them, get closer to Hawke to help him, but every other person present seemed to get the same idea at the same time. Before he could take one step most of the crowd had grouped around Hawke, blocking any way to get nearer. People smiled at their Champion, patted him on the back to show their admiration and gratitude, tried to get his attention by talking to him, offered their arm to lean on.

The more Fenris tried to push bodies out of the way and move towards Hawke, the more people appeared to block his path. Just as he had been forced to watch the duel without having a chance to lend aid, so was he forced to see the distance to Hawke grow.

Trying to avoid being touched by people was impossible. With every inch he got forward, arms brushed by and impatient people behind him bumped against his back and stepped on his heels. Fenris decided he could best focus on ignoring all this unwanted contact and simply getting out of here.

A hand was placed on his shoulder. Immediately Fenris reacted by spinning around and grabbing the person by the throat.

He stared into the wide, startled eyes of a middle-aged noble woman. Her mouth opened and closed in shock a few times before she managed to speak. "I... b...beg your pardon, messere. All I wanted... you are with the Champion, are you not?"

Fenris released her from his merciless grip and continued his struggle to leave without answering.