Two people forgive me! It seems I'll have to earn everyone else's forgiveness by uploading more chapters.

"...moi j'ai besoin d'espoir. Sinon je ne suis rien."

-Natacha Atlas "Mon Amie la Rose"

Translation: I need hope. Otherwise I am nothing.

17. Lingering Silence

The trek back to my room was a long and silent one; I felt my face grow pale as my mind kept wandering back to the elf on the stone slab. My footfalls made little noise as I climbed the stairs, leaving Danarius in his dungeon to observe his dead experiment by himself; my fingers trembled at my sides, and I had to blink back tears that formed from the dead weight of dread that settled deep in my chest.

Fenris...

I loathed myself for ignoring him - for trying to forget him.

What happened to us? Was it merely the lies? The stubbornness?

I needed him and he turned his back on me.

But did he, really? He did everything for me. He bought my freedom.

But I didn't want it like this.

I envisioned Fenris on the stone slab - paying the price for my sake - and I shuddered, my hands clenching into tight fists at my side. I forced my fingers to relax in order to push open the door that lead back to the heart of the East wing.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself further, making an effort to plaster a serene expression on my face - contradicting everything I had experienced since coming to this time.

I desperately wished that I could forget Fenris - that I could forget his sacrifice, that I could lose that piece of me that wouldn't let me move on and prosper - but that would be a direct insult to who I was.

I am Marian Hawke, and I will never leave a friend behind.

To brush off Fenris' plight was to cut off my own arm - to sever my own artery; for better or worse, he was a part of me.

Feeling empty and exhausted, I finally made it to my room; with a heavy sigh I opened the door and shut it quietly behind me.

Such a long day, I mused, rubbing my face; my eyes burned and my muscles ached - all I truly desired was a hot bath.

I must speak with Fenris, I concluded as I stripped and prepared my bathwater. My clothes were destroyed - I wondered idly what would be done with them. He needs to know what danger he's in.

He needs to know that I'm sorry.

-LS-

The fight with Hadriana was hardly an isolated incident; we were ordered to fight each other at least twice a week in order to put into practice what we had learned.

I learned spells and tricks for combat magic very quickly - but Danarius never seemed to be impressed with my progress; even though I won every match against the young woman, he would merely tsk and order me to study harder.

Prick.

He also sent me down to the courtyard to practice hand-to-hand combat; an odd request, since mages rarely had use for the sword - but my father had trained me alongside Carver as well as Bethany, so I had an affinity for swordsmanship.

That said, I routinely got my ass kicked by my instructor.

Other than a few tricks and a few dagger skills, I didn't learn much; most of my learning capacity was already spent on magic and all the damned studies Danarius forced me into.

Throughout the lessons in the courtyard, I kept a sharp eye out for the green-eyed, dark-haired elf who was prepared to give up his life for a mage girl - but I never even caught a glimpse of him.

Where does Danarius keep you, Fenris?

I wondered if he had ever gone looking for me in the mansion - if he had kept his ears open for my name as I had for his.

He probably hates me, anyway.

I grimaced wryly and dodged a training dagger that had been thrown at my head - I had to keep the reflex to release magic under lock and key throughout the duration of the hand-to-hand combat practices.

"Nice dodge," commented my trainer as he relaxed his offensive position before me. "But you favor your right side when you parry."

"My right side, you say?" That made sense. My left side felt battered and bruised; I prodded it and winced. "I could stand to lose a few pounds, anyway," I declared with a grimace, my mind elsewhere, on elves and rituals and the future. "Feel free to lop my left side off."

My trainer belly laughed, wiping his brow; he had dark skin and a yellow smile. "A plan for weight loss, you say? You might lose more than you bargained for." He straightened himself and stretched, popping the joints in his arms. "Go on, then; we're done here."

I nodded and stepped backwards, out of the baking sun and into the shaded area of the expansive courtyard. The air smelled of honeysuckle and running water from the fountains and creeping vines; I inhaled deeply, briefly laying my fingers beneath my clavicle before removing them, not wanting to draw attention to the spot.

Beneath my robes and pressed against my skin was a rumpled brown flower, old and faded, loved and thumping with the beat of a heart only inches away.

-LS-

Through the endless days of constant strenuous activity, I wore down and cracked. I didn't see Danarius much, be he seemed to have endless tasks for me to complete.

Whenever I saw him, I was usually dueling someone – Hadriana or one of my trainers, or someone else's apprentice.

I only saw Fenris when I closed my eyes.

Each time my lids slid shut after a long day of training and studying, I would see him; his emerald eyes would flash, the edge of his mouth would quirk up and those long, slender ears would twitch when he met my gaze.

In most of my visions, the Fenris would be dark-haired and unmarked. This Fenris would have a sweet smile; his tough exterior had to be cracked a little, but underneath the mildly hardened surface was the careful protector who would patiently - shyly - wait for me to come to him.

When this vision of Fenris would come, I squeezed my tiny, bruised flower in my palm, holding it close. It no longer held any distinguishable scent - but its meaning was far greater than just a mere smell. The flower was a memory - a memory of my reason for continuing.

Don't forget Fenris. Don't forget, most of all, what he's done for you.

What he will be willing to do for you.

The vision of my young Fenris would nearly cause me to weep with regret and an overburdened heart from knowing what his future would hold for him.

Other nights, I would see Fenris as I first met him - stoic and proud, cutting and with jagged edges that spurned when one approached with ill prepared fingers. This Fenris had ghostly white hair that seemed to glow in moonlight; my fingers would twitch, itching to run through it, to check and see if it felt as soft as it appeared. The lyrium lines on his flesh would glow and simmer, and he remained constantly alert for any signs of betrayal or attackers.

This Fenris would not meet my gaze - would not accept my touch. He would back away, the flesh-piercing gauntlets clenched tightly - unapproachable, prickly and prideful.

When I woke, I would contemplate the differences in behavior between the two of them - because, although they were the same man, they both treated me differently.

The Fenris of the future was a hardened man who seldom let down his walls - almost as much could be said for the Leto of this time, though his walls were much more easily overcome. I remembered doing everything in my power to break Fenris out of his shell - it didn't seem healthy for him to retreat inside himself so coldly, to shut everyone out. I had thought that I was making progress - until that one night.

The night of too much drinking at the Hanged Man, and subsequent rutting in my foyer. Fenris regretted the encounter - he must - but I could never prod him enough to admit why he was uncomfortable with it.

We were adults, we were both consenting - even if we had been a little drunk.

The only answer I could come up with was that Fenris was smitten with Isabela - and I could hardly blame him for that. I had seen her once or twice as she walked out of his bedchambers - but I had never assumed -

Perhaps that was the true difference between the Fenris of the future and the Fenris of the past.

This Fenris cared for me.

My heart ached whenever I thought of it, but I had to acknowledge the fact that he was willing to give up his way of living - and possibly his very life - for me. This Fenris yearned not for his own freedom, but for mine - and I almost threw him away for not telling me about his plans. I felt petty and stupid; I condemned him for not trusting in me enough to speak plainly to me, yet I had found myself unable to have faith in him - faith that he would do all that he could to protect me.

I should have known everything to begin with - I may not know everything that happened between Danarius and Fenris at this time, but I knew it had to happen.

The opportunities that had passed us by sickened me.

We should have escaped months ago.

Where have we ended up, now?

Stuck in limbo, upset with each other and unable to meet - and careening toward certain doom.

When Danarius performs that experiment on my Fenris, I'm going to lose him.

That would be the truth of it. Even though we were on shaky ground now, I knew that there would be no ground once his skin was poisoned with lyrium.

Which would lead me to believe that I would have to stop Danarius - or at least halt him until we could make our escape.

But we couldn't escape until we met up with each other - and he wouldn't meet with me if he was still angry at me.

I'm sorry.

You have no idea how much.

I recalled the acrid smell of the scorched elf on the stone slab of a table and sighed, pressing my fingertips against my mouth in deep thought.

That can't happen to Fenris. Not this time.

The Fenris of the future will never be - and I will make sure of it.

I hoped that I was doing the right thing.

-LS-

"Is there something wrong, Taris?" asked Danarius without looking up from the papers on his desk. A long, finely-engraved staff leaned against the wall behind his desk; I stared at it, looking anywhere but at the man who controlled my life.

"Not quite, ser," I spoke quietly, staring blankly ahead.

"Then what is it?" he inquired a little impatiently, pulling out a quill and inkwell to sign a paper.

"I would like to request that I am not called to assist you with your experiments," I said, ramrod straight.

I can't do that.

I can't see that happen - can't be a part of that.

"Why would you request such a thing?" Danarius finally raised his head to see me; a spark of irritation flashed through his eyes – though I might have imagined it. "You are aware of what you could learn from the experimentations?" Eyebrows rose. "Is my little fox unsettled by the sight of pain?"

"No, ser; that isn't exactly why I'm requesting my absence from the proceedings." I fidgeted, wanting to rub the flower pinned inside my robes but not wanting to call attention to it, either.

Although, what kind of person isn't unsettled at the sight of pain?

"Why, then?" He leaned onto his desk, peering closely at me. I couldn't meet his eye.

His chin rose; unreadable steel blue eyes stared me down for what felt like hours of loaded silence. "It's because of my warrior, isn't it?"

My muscles clenched and I lowered my head - not giving any positive indication.

A low chuckle sounded in the room and I looked up again to see him rising from his seat. "How intriguing, that after all this time you still remain infatuated with the elf. Do you even know if he still lives?"

He must. My mouth tightened into a grim line.

"You haven't sought him out a single time since you have arrived," Danarius said, walking around his desk. He leaned against the heavy wood, still staring down his nose at me. "You haven't asked of him, his whereabouts, his health. Are you sure you want to throw away this opportunity for basic research? For growth?" He shook his head. "You have never shown hesitation before, Taris - you have studied what I have told you to study, fought who I told you to fight, and learned what I told you to learn." His dry lips quirked. "You have been an exemplary student."

The first praise that I had ever been given from my Lord.

I looked away, at the floor to my right, not trusting myself to say anything.

I've thought about being your apprentice, Danarius. Of forgetting everything else, becoming a magister – living my life as Taris instead of Marian.

But I can't be anything other than myself; to try would be to lose the essence of who I am.

Danarius sighed. "Taris, I'm disappointed in you. You have the ability to become a powerful mage, yet you insist upon fighting me every step of the way."

I remembered scrubbing off the acrid scent of burnt flesh, the hollow feeling of horror in my chest as I saw the dead elf frozen in his last few moments of terror and agony.

"I can't do that," I whispered, lowering my head further. "I can't."

I can't be cruel.

I can't be you.

Danarius sighed again; I glanced up, spying his feathery gray beard before I met his gaze. What I saw there sent a chill down my spine - his eyes were hard, cold, and calculating - as if he were trying to sum up my soul to calculate what would get me to bend to his will.

"I am afraid that I must ask you to reconsider," he said, and held up a staying hand before I could speak. The look disappeared from his eyes and was replaced by his normal unreadable expression - but the ice that crawled down my back from the previous look couldn't be shaken. "I don't believe you quite understand the situation, my dear - you are an invaluable asset to me and I have selflessly bestowed upon you countless opportunities; I bought your freedom and have trained you without repayment." A gaunt face smiled at me, arousing the memories of the days I fought the blood-chilling darkspawn. "I want you to take all of this into consideration; I may yet say the correct phrase to get you to change your mind."

I forced a ghost of a smile to wander across my face. "As you say, ser."

Don't bet on it.

"You may have your leave," he said graciously, nodding to the door. I backed away, an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"And Taris," Danarius spoke, causing me to pause. I cocked my head sideways, spying the tip of his boot and the edge of his blue robes out of the corner of my eye. "Do consider changing your mind. It would be inconvenient to lose a pawn this late in the game."

I nodded, my heart beating faster as I continued through the door as slowly as I could. When the door shut behind me, I allowed myself to tremble and exhale unsteadily in an effort to calm myself.

What the hell did he mean by that?

The bad feeling inside of me festered until I built up a paranoia that would put Fenris to shame.

-LS-

"Again."

I lifted my stiff limbs as quickly as I could, but not quickly enough – a full gust of force magic hit me in the dead center of my chest, knocking me off my feet. My back hit the hard floor with a heavy thunk, and I groaned, stretching my limbs in an effort to try and regain agility. I wiped my forehead, swiping away sweat and sticky black hair.

"Too late again, Taris," chided my instructor; a wrinkled, old elf with jade eyes and a pissy attitude.

"I know," I retorted, peeved. I crawled back onto my legs, hearing every joint in my body protest and pop. I knew when I was at my limit – I had been going full force all day, and my body was finally telling me to quit. "We're done here." I spoke with a tone of finality, irritated and bruised.

"Lord Danarius will be –"

"Lord Danarius can eat it," I seethed, stalking away from the scene. My new magic instructor was responsible for teaching me certain techniques that were hard to grasp with merely the use of a textbook or tome; today, he had been instructing me on how to block a frontal attack with magic alone – and without a focus.

I suffered numerous attacks, only managing to block a few – I parried one and sent it flying back at the attacker – and was, for the most part, pummeled by an array of magic.

If my performance seems a little shitty today, perhaps it's because of all the other projects I'm made to do.

Reading and copying tomes until the early morning – mimicking enchantment runes, even though mages couldn't enchant anything – fighting hand-to-hand in the morning, fighting Hadriana before lunch – skipping lunch to finish transcribing notes from the tomes I didn't finish the night before – and then being forced to withstand an afternoon of getting knocked off my ass until I couldn't function.

"I'll have to note that you disobeyed your instructions," tsked my teacher. I waved my hand, not taking a second glance behind me.

I walked into the building from the courtyard, knocking dust from my robes. After being knocked off my feet so many times, I seemed to be coated in a generous layer of dusty dirt.

It was a rarity that I was granted a lull in between assignments – and I knew exactly how I wanted to spend it.

Perhaps not "exactly" – but beggars can't be choosers.

The walk to the top floor grew longer and longer each time I forced my legs to climb it – why would Danarius put all of the extremely necessary rooms so far up? I sighed when I reached my destination – the healer's room.

I knocked on the door and smiled when a bright faced Pana opened it. She immediately clasped her arms around me in a tight hug.

"Hi, Marian," she said, her face pressed into my stomach. She removed herself and glanced up at me, her blonde hair falling into her eyes.

I pushed her bangs out of her face. "Lunch?" I offered, pointing my thumb over my shoulder.

She nodded and I grabbed her hand, pulling her behind me to head back down the stairs – again.

The things I do for this girl.

I knew that my thoughts were all talk – because when I looked at her youthful, carefree smile, the unfortunate situation I found myself in seemed to melt away.

-LS-

It was a few days more until I saw Danarius again – he sent a slave by my room in the early morning to tell me to be dressed impeccably and lightly, and to be downstairs by breakfast.

I spied an elegant carriage outside the doorway when I descended the stairs in my royal blue robes. "Where are we going?" I asked politely, walking over to Danarius, who was dressed in light gray robes and stood beside another man with a graying goatee.

"To watch a little game of mine," he replied lightly, ushering forward his guest and then myself. "Shall we?"

"Danarius, you're being far too posh," the stranger said, pausing to help me into the carriage. I thanked him quietly for assistance as I settled into place.

"These "little games" of Lord Danarius' have been going on for some time," the man said once we were all seated in the shaded carriage. The sun had yet to rise very high in the sky; the air remained crisp. "They've garnered so much attention that they're now held in official coliseums – they're marvelously entertaining."

"I see," I said, not seeing any point at all. Danarius was taking me out for a public social gathering? It wasn't the first time such a thing had happened, but he usually liked to limit how many people I was around.

Yes, Danarius. I can tell you like to control me.

I wanted to know why I was invited – for Danarius to show me off to his fellow senators? He had mentioned something about a game to me earlier – could that be related?

He said to rethink my decision, and that he didn't wish to lose a pawn in his game. Is he going to give me to another magister?

Do apprenticeships in the Imperium work that way?

I was at such a disadvantage; I hardly knew the culture that I was thrown into – what was that damn antiquarian thinking when he sent me here?

The two magisters chatted idly beside me as the carriage smoothly carried us further along the road; after a few minutes of empty, barren fields I began to see signs of a town; small hovels and dirty children playing in the roads, merchants plying their wares and numerous people corralling towards one place. When I edged my head closer to the window, I could see a massive circular building a small ways off.

The coliseum, then? My interest piqued as the sun slowly climbed across the sky to tower above; Danarius kindly informed the other magister and I that we were to sit beside him in his private box, where he would have a full brunch prepared for our consumption.

When we arrived, I hastily exited the grand carriage to wonder at the magnificent piece of architecture before us; the experience was oddly humbling, to stare up at something so wondrous and gigantic and feel miniscule in comparison.

Danarius entered without preamble – probably having seen the sights of this city far too often – and after a few beats of my heart I followed, wondering just what I would be getting myself into today.

He must be upset with me – I assume this is normally a trip that he would take by himself, I thought as I ascended the cool, shaded steps past the gate of the coliseum. I almost instinctively began to wade into the growing crowd that meandered into the stands, but was called back by Danarius, who glided up several flights of stairs; I trailed behind, slowly growing damp with sweat. He's usually gone from the manor – does he host these fights often?

The sun waned directly overhead when we broke through the dark stairwell and back into fresh air; we were high above the coliseum, perfectly aligned to see every detail of the "game" that was certain to come.

As promised, there was an outlandish feast of a brunch prepared – only the finest for Lord Danarius, I thought sarcastically, looking over the banisters and down at the sandpit and crowds below. A dull roar of chatter echoed through the stadium and I shrugged uncomfortably in my dark robes, wishing I had chosen a lighter color to endure the heat with.

I shielded my eyes from the glare of the sun, still guessing at the game Danarius was playing. This must be some form of punishment – or a way to persuade me. I couldn't shake the feeling that told me that this wasn't a normal trip – or game, for that matter. He has something to say to me, or I wouldn't be here.

Just what do you mean by all this, Danarius?

A bell rang, startling me; the guest magister laughed at how I jumped, and I turned to give him a bashful smile before immediately returning my attention below. Men clad in glinting metal armor entered the sand pit, and the crowd released a mighty, piercing roar at their presence.

I squinted, trying to pick out the different figures on the sand. One fought with a sword and shield; another with a mace – and another with two short swords. The one with two swords seemed shorter than the others – but stockier.

Finally, another tall, lithe figure strode onto the sand with a humongous axe strapped to his shoulder. A small quiver of fear tingled down my spine, along with a creeping sense of realization.

I narrowed my eyes, peering down at the men on the field. The one with the biggest weapon turned, and though he wore a helmet, I could tell exactly who the man was.

Fenris. My eyes widened; I had to freeze my limbs to keep myself from turning to stare incredulously at Danarius. This is what he wants me to see? Fenris competing?

Upon seeing the sinister weapons, I had no doubt as to what kind of "games" these were – and I hoped the mortality rate wasn't as high as I feared.

I nearly smirked; the joke is on you, Danarius. Fenris was an impressive swordsman; there would be no downplaying his abilities in combat – seeing him fight would only bolster my courage to fight back.

I could see as he measured the abilities of the other men, deciding which one to go at first; he looked over his shoulder once and did a double take when he spotted me.

I tried to hold his gaze, but we were too far away – he noted me, and that was enough.

Perhaps there is hope for us after all.

This is one lesson that will backfire, I thought, relaxing. Danarius took his seat, sipping on a full glass of chilled water. I had to force myself to pay attention to the fight so I wouldn't sass my Lord; I watched as Fenris gripped the handle of his weapon and swung it around to face his opponents.

The crowd screamed when the first leap was given – at some invisible signal – and the warriors converged on each other; the sight gave me an unexpected rush of feeling and my heart pounded at the excitement.

Two men went straight for Fenris – one kicked his legs while the other dealt a heavy stroke with a mace against his (thankfully guarded) chest, sending him sprawling backwards – the third man bashed him with a shield while he was down, and a frown plastered itself onto my face.

Surely they don't generally gang up on one competitor…? That hardly seems fair. I finally glanced back at Danarius, waiting to see when he would acknowledge the injustice and call them off.

He wasn't watching the fight; only my reaction. When he saw my face, his lips twitched indiscernibly.

I whirled immediately back around to watch the fight when the crowd chorused together in shock; Fenris' helmet had been beaten off and an arc of red splattered the sand. His weapon rose as he pushed himself away from the other fighters; he parried one blow and sliced heavily through the shoulder of his attacker in retaliation before kicking away and returning to shaky feet.

I leaned forward and gripped the banister before me, wanting to cry out with the crowd but restraining myself. His head bled profusely, and I worried that the blood would interrupt his vision.

I could do nothing but watch as the three men – the one Fenris had struck returned to his feet as well, though his wound seemed to be far worse than Fenris' – converged upon Fenris once more, raising weapons to attack him all at once.

Fenris tried to dodge and parry the first few attacks, but he didn't seem to be too adept with his own weapon; I wanted to glare back at the infuriating Danarius because I knew that he would be responsible for the uncommonly bulbous blade choice for an elf. There was no way that Fenris could be swift enough with such a hulking claymore; with one thrust of another's sword he went down, a stab wound at his hip.

Even though he went down, he didn't give up – Fenris continued to block with the sword, keeping the hulking piece of metal between him and his attackers as he attempted - in vain - to get away and regain his fighting stance.

I winced at every attack that landed; bile rose in my throat as the crowd roared and laughed at the unfair display.

"Danarius," I said thinly, my voice stressed and high. "Do you plan to let them kill your pet so unfairly?" My hands shook as I spat out the derogatory word; it took all of my willpower to keep myself from leaping down there to defend my comrade, my Fenris.

"Ah, but as you say," he said benignly, sipping calmly on his goblet of water. "He is a pet – quite replaceable."

My teeth clenched, and I averted my gaze; I wished that I could obliterate my hearing, as the bloodthirsty cries from the crowd penetrated my brain to the point of nausea.

"Please," I said, my voice shaking. "Lord Danarius, please." I clung to the banister, trying to force the incessant yelling, the cries of pain and the harsh sounds of impact from below.

"Yes, my dear?" my Lord asked amicably, rising lazily from his chair. "Is it a favor you ask of me?"

I bowed over the edge of the box, knowing my lesson. I am not the only one he is willing to punish – Danarius could hurt Fenris, or even Pana. My heart leapt in my throat. He didn't want me to watch a game – he wanted me to understand the power he holds over me through my loved ones.

"Yes," I rasped, opening my eyes. Fenris had finally fallen, his weapon knocked too far away to be of any assistance to him. "Please, stop this."

Danarius sighed, assuming a contemplative countenance. "I suppose I should lend a hand to my outmatched warrior below," he said regretfully, placing a hand on my arm in a faux comforting manner. I had to steel myself to keep from shying away; my eyes were glued to the scene below. Danarius raised his hand and a bell rang, signaling the end of the fight. "Perhaps my favor will persuade you to reconsider your earlier decision."

What a fancy way to say "you owe me".

I expected a healer to rush to the pit to heal the wounded, but no such thing occurred; the warriors slowly ambled out of the pit, leaving behind the beaten, bloody, lifeless Fenris – one of the other fighters glanced over his shoulder at the fallen warrior, as if contemplating dealing a final blow, but continued in his path out of the pit.

A panicked sound erupted from my throat when no one went out for him – until a few seconds later, a couple of men entered and slowly approached the fallen warrior. I watched anxiously as they grabbed him by the arms and drug him off of the sand.

I flew to the stairs in the beat of a bird's wing, Danarius be damned.

I whirled around a corner and heard the roar of the crowd surge again – the remaining fighters must have resumed their place.

My pace became frantic as I searched and couldn't find him. Fenris. Fenris. Fenris. Fenris. Where are you?

I ran down a narrow passage and my shoe splattered against the floor – I looked down and spotted a trail of blood and took off again, following the spotted trail until I found him, abandoned in the warrior's pit on the edge of the arena.

"Oh, Maker," I whispered, stepping closer and wishing desperately that I possessed the skill needed to heal him. Every inch was bruised and battered, and blood ran out of him at an alarming rate – through stab wounds, slices, and the gushing cut on his head. When I cast my gaze around me, I found a few guards – and I could see the remaining warriors as they resumed fighting out in the arena – but I found no healer. I rushed forward and clamped my hands over the biggest wound that I could find whilst trying to rouse him to consciousness.

"Fenris?" I tried, speaking directly into his slender ear. "Can you hear me?" I received no response – so instead, I called out for help, trying to yell above the crowd.

"Help!" I yelled, panic rising as more blood coursed out of the elf. Not like this, Fenris. "Please! Someone help!"

A few of the guards turned my way; one of them chuckled at my display. I glowered harrowingly at him and his laugh cut short.

"He's alive?" a man with a beard asked, appearing from the door behind me, an elegantly carved staff in hand. "Good morning," he greeted me, coming to sit beside the unconscious Fenris and I. "I'm the healer here."

"Thank the Maker," I cried, "can you please help him?"

The man tutted and extended his hand over Fenris. "The outmatched warrior," he said to himself, acknowledging Fenris. "I will do what I can," he allowed, propping his staff against the wall and using his bare hands to focus the magic that slowly began pouring from his fingers.

"Anything will help," I said desperately, running my fingers through Fenris' hair. He lay so limply, so still.

"Such an unfair fight," the mage said as a calm blue light emanated from his palm. "Danarius must be displeased with this one, to let it happen."

"No. No, it was my fault." I curled myself around him, pressing my lips to his temple. "It was all my fault."

"There you are, Taris," came a familiar voice from the doorway. "My, you do move quickly when you wish to." I didn't raise my head to see Danarius; the worry clogged every thought I had. "That is enough healing for now, I'm afraid," he relieved the mage and signaled to a few men to enter the room.

"What?" I cried – why couldn't he just let Fenris be healed?

"It's time to head home, I believe," Danarius said to me, then turned to the helpful mage with the beard. "My apprentice seems to be no longer able to conduct herself with much formality," he said conspiratorially to the other mage, who chuckled in understanding.

Rage steamed inside of me, but I reeled it back and focused only on what I could do for Fenris – I felt so helpless, unable to heal or even rouse him. The men who entered the room grabbed the edges of the plank he lay upon and lifted him, carrying him away from me – but I was by their sides in an instant, stroking whatever inch of Fenris I could find, trying to hold myself back and failing.

I vaguely noticed that a cart was hooked up behind the carriage that we arrived in – but I also hardly noticed that we had traveled back outside. Fenris' wounds went largely untreated; the men set him down on the cart and I climbed in straight behind him, pulling him into my lap and pleading directly into his ear.

I heard someone speaking beside me – the driver? – asking if I would be more comfortable in the carriage, but I didn't acknowledge him. Eventually, the cart began to move – I did what little I could to keep Fenris from being jostled by the movement of the carriage on the cobblestones.

"Fenris," I spoke, my voice shaky. "I'm here – I'm so sorry, Fenris." I shuddered when I inhaled, rubbing down his arm with my hand.

The hot sun beat down upon us both; I expended a few bursts of magic to keep the heat and dust off of us, trying to keep Fenris comfortable and his wounds as clean as I could.

"Fenris, open your eyes – can you hear me?" I asked, my lips bumping the curves of his ear when the cart wobbled. "I'm so sorry, Fenris."

Somewhere in my mind I knew that Danarius wouldn't let Fenris die.

He can't die – he's Danarius' favorite. Perhaps not yet, but Danarius must show favoritism in him because he chooses Fenris for the experiment – and he can't die yet because he's alive in the future.

But another part, a distinctly different part of me, whispered that I could be actively changing the future while I was in the past. If I kill him now, there would be no Fenris of the future – I would have never met him.

Would I remain here, in that case?

I ran a hand down his hot, bloody face, wanting nothing more than to see his bottomless green eyes open.

I didn't even care if they would be full of hate – I just wanted him alive. I hated seeing him like this – broken and wrecked, gushing blood over my robes. His breathing was shallow and forced; I heard it hissing and rasping unhealthily through his lungs.

Pana can fix this.

I closed my eyes, holding him close; I tried to staunch the blood flow of some of his wounds, but the mage in the coliseum managed to hold them closed temporarily, so I directed my attention elsewhere.

We aren't too far away; these wounds can still be healed.

"Fenris…" I swallowed the lump in my throat, thinking of something – anything – that might soothe or wake the battered warrior. An old melody came to mind, and I leaned down to press my lips to his sweaty forehead.

"You are my sunshine," I shakily whispered, "my only sunshine –" I choked, inhaling sharply to rid my throat of the tight feeling that constricted my ability to speak. "You make me happy…"

I bit my lip, unable to continue. "Please wake up," I whispered. "I'm so sorry."

My fault.

Forever passed before we entered the gates of Danarius' estate; I continued stroking and whispering and singing to the beaten Fenris until the healers were ushered downstairs to retrieve him – and even then, I followed them directly up the stairs and to the healer's room, feeling empty and petty.

If he dies…everything I'd hoped for means nothing.

My entire reason for being here is reduced tonothing.

Oh, Maker – would I forget him? Would Fenris cease to exist as I knew him?

I hung back as they carried him into the healer's room, unable to follow them the few steps more.

The door slammed shut in my face, and I stumbled until my back hit the wall behind me. I sunk to the floor, my back pressed to the wall outside the infirmary; I wondered if Danarius had been subtly using Pana and Fenris against me since I had arrived at his estate; it was ludicrous to believe that Fenris was meant to be used against me since the beginning, because Danarius had no knowledge of me prior to that day – the day I begged for Danarius not to take Fenris away from me.

If I could just go back – if I could speak to Fenris again, tell him what my life would be if he had made me leave without him – how could he have ever thought that was a good idea?

I held my head in my hands, trying not to feel too pitiful for myself. Moping about this gets me nowhere, I told myself sternly. The only thing left is to act.

Random fact: "Lingering Silence" is a Templar attack. I stole it for a chapter name because I couldn't think of anything. C; That's me, always original.

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