AN: Sorry I didn't get to reply to everyone's comments last week. Crazy busy. This chapter was up yesterday (a day earlier) on my website (Link on my profile) so you should really check it out! It's super user friendly and got a great facelift and I'm super excited about it. Other than that, though, thank you so much for all your comments and kind words and constructive critisisms. You guys make me want to be so much better all the time and I really hope that even if you don't like some chapters as much as others, that I'm continuing to entertain you guys.

Have a fantastic week! I love you all!

Oh, yeah, and I hope you like the chap!

Lovelovelove

Roarkshop

"He's too strong," Varric growled, wincing as Hawke put up her blades to block another powerful swing from the Arishok and was launched across the room. "What was she thinking?"

"She's trying to minimize bloodshed," Aveline said, repeating Hawke's very words, putting forth effort to keep her voice calm.

Fenris was clutching his hands into fists so hard he could feel his jagged nails biting into the skin of his palms. He was clenching his jaw to the point that his teeth felt like they were grinding into powder. His whole body was tense to the point of pain, and even that did nothing to minimize the agonizing ache in his chest.

Anara was fast. She'd always been so damned fast. What good was that here, though? They were in a wide open space, with only two giant pillars as obstructions. There was nowhere to hide, no ledges to leap onto, nothing to distract her opponent. The light was much too good for the Arishok to lose sight of her, meaning she couldn't even spare time to try and climb up the walls or try to get out of reach. Her stealth was all but useless, her agility was barely an advantage, and her quick feet did little but help her dodge most of the Arishok's attacks. She was concentrating so much effort on avoiding the terrible blows that she rarely got an opening to go on the offensive. Whenever she took the chance, lashing out with a lightning-quick dagger across the Qunari's stony skin, not only did she do minimal damage but she would only barely manage to get her defense up to take the force of the blow coming down on her.

Even if the Arishok's blades didn't manage to hit her directly, just blocking the strikes took great effort. He was slow but his skin was thick, his stamina was great, and his swings were more powerful than anything Hawke had probably ever dealt with alone. Fenris ached to be at her back.

With every mighty swing of the Arishok's sword, Fenris held his breath. With every dodge or misstep from Hawke, his heart felt like it stopped in his chest, only to start up again when she was safely out of reach. She used the pillars brilliantly, ducking around them and using them as shields, too fast for the Arishok to move around it to reach her, and yet not fast enough that she could get a hit in without opening herself up to another crippling blow.

More than once the Arishok seemed to knock her back so hard that she had trouble catching her breath. She scrambled on the floor for her daggers when she would lose them, then would roll just out of reach of the sword and back to the sanctuary behind the pillars.

It wasn't enough. They all knew it. She could dodge the Qunari until sunrise, but it was obvious that she would tire long before him. All he had to do was wait her out until her fatigue slowed her down. All it would take was one direct hit from the Arishok's great weapons and it would all be over.

Fenris' stomach went cold at the thought. He did not come back just to lose her again. He did not spend the last eight months torturing himself only for her to die in front of his eyes. He couldn't let it happen. He would rather kiss the boots of Danarius himself than watch the golden light leave Anara's eyes. He didn't think there was anything he would not do to save her, and yet, there he stood. Powerless.

He knew that if he ran to her defense, the entire Qunari army would descend on the hall. Even if he managed to save her, she would never forgive him for the lives that were lost in the process. He told himself it would be a worthy sacrifice if it meant she lived, but in the end, even with her life on the line he could not bring himself to disrespect her.

Again, Hawke was launched across the hall, grunting in pain as she smacked into a pillar and slid to the floor. The Arishok charged her and she just managed to jump out of the way, stunning the monstrous warrior briefly when he hit the pillar. She retrieved the blade she lost and sank back into her tell-tale crouch, and Fenris started breathing again.

He tried to think of a way to give her an advantage without anyone knowing that he had helped her. If she could manage to get behind the Arishok for a little longer, she might be able to land a few more vital hits before he managed to wear her down, but how? The room was too open, the visibility was too good. She needed an opening. She needed the upper hand…

She needed darkness.

"Merrill," Fenris whispered harshly, but loud enough that it made the girl jump. "The lanterns."

"What?" she asked, wide-eyed. She was wringing her hands together anxiously, looking back and forth between him and the fight.

"The lanterns," he repeated. "Can you extinguish the light without anyone seeing you do it?"

The girl looked at him for a moment before she seemed to comprehend what he was saying. She nodded once. "I can try," she said softly.

"Do not let them see you," he advised. "Else it is all over."

Merrill looked up at the walls, noting all the different fires burning in sconces or hanging from the ceiling. Aveline, who had heard their quiet conversation, moved across Fenris to stand on the other side of him, the two of them together effectively blocking any view of Merrill from the Qunari.

The sound of Hawke grunting as she was kicked in the chest and sent sprawling across the floor made both he and Aveline flinch.

"Quickly," he whispered.

He heard the mage murmur something in Dalish and felt a cold chill go passed him. When he turned to look, half of the room had gone dark. He saw Hawke's head snap up from where she lay on her stomach. She noted the change in light immediately and rolled onto her back, quickly putting her feet on the wall and pushing with all her strength. Just as the Arishok's axe came down on her, Hawke slid across the floor and into the shadows.

She vanished, and that small feat alone rekindled Fenris' dwindling hope.

"Come out and fight!" the Arishok bellowed.

Hawke came from the opposite direction of where the Qunari had been looking and sliced a gash through his side, but when he turned to strike her, she had already jumped back into the darkness. With the Arishok unable to track her easily, she was able to climb up the walls and extinguish the rest of the light burning around the main floor. All that remained was the light from the sconces on the next level where the Qunari and civilians watched from above. The Arishok was still plainly visible as he stormed back and forth from pillar to pillar, shouting uselessly. Anara was another matter entirely…

She was a shadow.

While she was stealthy as ever, Fenris could tell she had tired considerably. Her speed, usually as quick as flashes of lightning, was subdued, almost dulled. She was still too fast for the Arishok to get a hit on her, but it was a very near thing.

"'Atta girl," Varric praised quietly.

For the first time since the fight began, Fenris felt the coiling tension in his stomach starting to relax. She had the advantage she needed. She could do this. He knew she could. The mood of the crowd was changing like the evening tide. Hope spread as if it were contagious. Whenever Hawke reappeared long enough to slice a gash through the Arishok's skin, only to jump out of reach just in time; the townsfolk would cheer or breathe a collective sigh of relief. The energy in the room buzzed across Fenris' skin, and before he knew it he was gripping the banister, and shouting his support along with everyone else.

In the end, though… her fatigue won out.

He saw her leap from the top of the pillar a second later than she should have, because the Arishok was already turning around, dropping his axe. Fenris swallowed the gut wrenching 'no' that almost shot out of his mouth as he watched the only person he truly cared about falling straight into the hands of the most massive enemy she had ever taken on alone. Time seemed to freeze around him as she descended. He saw the moment of realization in her eyes, he saw her commit her body to the action she had taken even as she acknowledged the fatal error.

Just as the Arishok's hand grabbed the front of her vest, Anara swung her daggers, spearing him through the throat from both sides. The Qunari roared in pain, a sound that shook the halls. The crowd cheered, but it faded quickly because it only took seconds for everyone to realize the Arishok wasn't going to drop.

Instead, he reeled back his massive sword with his free hand and sliced Hawke straight through her abdomen, skewering her on it like a live fish on a primitive spear, holding her in the air over his head like a trophy.

Fenris knew with absolute certainty that he was never going to forget the sound that tore out of Anara's throat. He would never forget the way her blood poured down the blade and covered the hilt and the Arishok's hand. As she screamed — a shriek so agonizing that it turned his stomach — Fenris felt himself begin to move before his mind had even fully accepted what was happening.

"No," Aveline said, putting an arm in front of his chest.

"She'll die!" he roared, pushing her away without taking his eyes off of Hawke. "Aveline!"

Before Aveline could say anything else, Hawke had already sunk down to the hilt of the Arishok's blade, and she jerked her daggers back at an almost unnatural angle before plunging them both into the Arishok's eyes. He dropped the blade — even as she was still suspended upon it — staggering backward until he tripped over the stairs and fell back. Her daggers, still embedded in his skull, gleamed in the dim light.

Everyone seemed frozen where they stood. The entire hall held a collective breath as the Arishok finally went still, exhaling one final, strangled wheeze. Another blood curdling scream tore out of Hawke as she sat on her knees, pulling the huge blade out of herself until it clattered onto the stone floor of the Keep. She fell forward onto her hands, panting and coughing blood onto the floor.

Even in the darkness, even with her life held together by threads, when she looked up her golden eyes shone with all the same fire that had always been there.

"Get. Out."

She obviously couldn't get to her feet, but that didn't affect her title as victor. The Qunari all started to silently filter out of the great hall, and the moment Hawke saw they were going to uphold the Arishok's deal, the last of her strength gave out and she collapsed.

The sight of her crumpling to the floor was what snapped Fenris out of his trance. He pushed Aveline aside and jumped over the railing, hitting the ground with a loud 'thud' before sprinting across the floor.

"No, Anara," he called to her, sounding — even to his own ears — as if he were begging. He rolled her onto her back and pulled her into his chest, pushing her hair out of her face. "Anara, look at me," he demanded, though it was panic, not strength in his voice.

"You… you came back," she said weakly, her lips pulling back in a small smile that revealed her entire mouth was coated in her blood.

"Of course." He swallowed a hard breath, his eyebrows knitting together. "I couldn't stay away."

She coughed, making a sickening gurgling sound in the back of her throat. "Fenris… I…"

"No," he interrupted, shaking her gently. "Spare me your goodbyes. I will not hear them."

"Fenris…"

"Help is coming," he insisted, looking up to see that Aveline had already run out to meet the Templars and the mages. "Stay with me, Anara. Keep your eyes open."

"Why is it that," she croaked, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment before opening again, "… every time I almost die, I end up in your arms?"

He dropped his forehead onto hers and just held her there, not caring that his markings came alight in the darkness. "Because the Maker knows I will never allow it."

His head whipped around when he heard First Enchanter Orsino run through the door, and the mage froze when he saw Fenris, a burning torch of bluish-white holding Hawke in his arms.

"What are you waiting for?" he roared, his eyes and hair burning with his lyrium even as tears streaked down his cheeks. "Save her!"

When Hawke opened her eyes, the first thing she was aware of was the darkness. She spared a moment to wonder if she was dead. The second thing she was aware of was the stiffness in her limbs. Maker, it felt like she'd been lying still for years. She was weak as well, even trying to move her arm proved incredibly difficult.

She blinked hard a few times, trying to clear her vision and not knowing why she couldn't see anything; but as her eyes adjusted, she noticed light in the room. With much more effort than it should have taken, she turned her head to look at the moonlight streaming through her window, but it wasn't empty.

Fenris was standing at the window. She would know his silhouette anywhere. He had one hand on the wall, leaning on it as he looked out into the city. His hair was tied back and hung between his shoulder blades now, but it was that same tell-tale white.

Anara swallowed in an attempt to combat the dryness in her throat so she could speak, but she couldn't think of anything particularly witty to say, so she just said his name. It was weak and quiet, but he immediately whirled around.

There was a moment of absolute stillness as he looked at her. He was silhouetted by the moonlight, so she couldn't see his expression, but there was an incredible tension in the room.

"You're awake," he said, but she couldn't tell if it sounded more like a question or a sigh of relief. He made his way to her side and sat himself down in a chair that she didn't remember being positioned that close to the bed. She couldn't see him that clearly but he put his hand on her arm, holding it through the blanket as if reassuring her that he was there. "How do you feel?" he asked gently.

"Weak," she admitted. "The Qunari?"

"Gone."

"Thank the Maker," she groaned. "Is everyone alright?"

He scoffed. "Varric has barely come up for air from his ale, Bethany and Orsino have come every day to see you and check your health. Your mother has not left her room except to sit by your side and pray. Anders has helped where he could without being seen. Aveline, Merrill, and Isabella have scarcely left your side except to eat and sleep, and the citizens of Hightown seem more concerned with the fact that the Hawk and Anara Amell are one in the same than the fact that you almost died saving them. Besides that? Everyone is fine."

"Wha-How long have I been out?"

She heard him swallow. "Twelve days," he said softly.

"What?"

"You were very badly injured," he explained. "They said… that you might not wake up."

"Who?" she croaked.

"No one of importance, obviously," he said, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. "Your sister assured me that they were morons and you were only punishing me for leaving."

Hawke smiled, or at least it felt like she smiled; she didn't really know if her muscles were obeying her. "Since when do you trust the word of a mage?"

"Since she was the only one telling me what I wanted to hear," he admitted, brushing her cheek with his knuckles. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she could feel his hand trembling. Now that he was close, she could see the unusual gaunt in his face.

"Fenris, you look exhausted," she accused, trying to shake her head. "Have you been here the whole time? Have you slept?"

"Call it making up for lost time," he said softly, trailing his hand down her arm to cover her hand through the blanket. "Call it too little too late."

They sat there in silence for a long time as Anara's exhausted brain tried to catch up. In the end, the only things she knew were that the Qunari were gone, she was alive, and Fenris hadn't left her side for the two weeks she'd been unconscious.

"Thank you," she whispered, "for not leaving me alone."

"My virtues may be few, but no one can say that I make the same mistake twice."