Chapter Three
9:34 Dragon
Kirkwall, Viscount's Keep
Fenris had no idea how much time had passed when the abomination sat back on his heels and declared Hawke safe to be moved.
"She's not out of danger, not quite yet," Anders sighed, "but it should be safe to take her home now.
Relief crashed on Fenris like a wave breaking on the shore. It overwhelmed him as Anders sent Gamlen off to warn Orana and Bodahn that Hawke would be coming home.
Anders said some other things as well, but Fenris had never been less interested in listening to the abomination's prattle. He only had eyes for Hawke. Fenris carried her to her estate – when had she gotten so light, he wondered dimly – and placed her in the bed in her room.
Bodahn, without being asked, had carried two comfortable chairs into Hawke's bedroom. He placed them next to the bed and said something Fenris hadn't quite caught. Something that involved saying "messere" several times and making clucking noises like a mother hen. He seemed pleased when Fenris finally decided to sit down in one of the chairs, taking Hawke's hand in his again.
Fenris didn't notice that only Anders had followed him to Hawke's estate. He hadn't heard the others decide to try and manage this mess so that Hawke could have a long rest. Aveline had decided to try to rally the guardsmen, Sebastian had gone to the Chantry to help the Grand Cleric comfort the desperate people within, Varric had run to gather more supplies at Anders's clinic, Merrill had left to find more people who needed help in Lowtown, Isabela had simply disappeared, and Fenris hadn't noticed, nor would he have cared.
The rest of Day Zero of Hawke's recovery, companions came and went, bringing supplies or words of comfort and support. Bodahn provided aid where he could, mostly in the form of beverages, and Orana made sure there was plenty of easily-obtainable food for any of her mistress's friends as they rushed in to check on Hawke's status and rushed right back out again when they heard there was no change. Even Gamlen found a way to assist by turning away any visitors.
The fear that they might lose their lady rogue permeated the house and everyone in it. While Anders had said she was safe for the moment, that was by no means a guarantee that she would make it through this.
Fenris had assisted Anders in dressing Hawke's wounds and applying pressure or poultices when asked. Every time someone barged into Hawke's bedroom – which was once an hour or so – to ask how she was, Anders had no choice but to say that her condition was unchanged. At first, he'd tried to be optimistic about it, saying things like, "there's been no change yet, but it's still early," or "she's the same, but I wouldn't expect any improvement yet."
But as the hours dragged on, Anders had taken to giving shorter and shorter answers and then, finally, a resigned shake of the head. Around midnight, Fenris decided to finally bring up the proverbial genlock in the room.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, more courteously than usual.
"No," Anders said. "It's just – Hawke had us working at midnight last night, trying to get the book for Isabela. In-between that and now I've had to fight to save the life of a woman giving birth, to stop the Qunari from taking over Kirkwall, and, finally, to keep Hawke alive."
"Is this going anywhere?" Fenris growled, returning to his usual level of courtesy.
Hawke wasn't dying. She was going to live. She had to.
"I'm trying to say that I'm tired. Not to mention that I've taken far more lyrium than I should have for one day." From one of the many piles of supplies around the bed, Anders pulled a small packet as he continued, "I think we'll give her a bit of this – it will help prevent infection – and then I'm off to bed."
"So you are just going to leave and hope she's still here in the morning," Fenris said. Just like a mage, always thinking about himself, he didn't have to add.
"I can't do much in this state," Anders returned, starting to get annoyed, "and I'm not leaving. I'll be sleeping in the study, and Orana has promised to stay in here with Hawke. She'll let me know if anything changes."
"Let Orana rest. I'll stay."
"Are you... sure? If Hawke wakes..." Anders began. He was clearly surprised at Fenris's decision, not realizing that this wasn't really a choice. Staying was something he had to do.
Hawke would have known. What was it she'd said, some time ago? The smarter you are, the more compassionate you are, the fewer choices you actually have.
"If she wakes, or if anything else changes, I will alert you." Fenris promised.
Anders simply nodded, an unreadable expression on his face. He went to Orana for some water and to let her know of the change to the plan.
While he was gone, Fenris looked over at Hawke. He couldn't say her expression was peaceful, but it wasn't pained either. There were several bruises starting to form, mostly on the left side of her face; they would look worse before they got better. The various cuts and scratches had started to heal, however, and only one or two of them would scar.
Anders came back a minute or two later, carrying an iron kettle, an empty bowl, and a spoon. Fenris raised an eyebrow – was the abomination going to be cooking? Making tea? He received his answer as Anders put the contents of the packet – several different kinds of crushed leaves, it appeared – into the bowl, which he then filled with hot water from the kettle. He used the spoon to mash the leaves, which, when combined with the water, made a pulpy poultice.
"When that cools, call Orana or Bodahn. They'll help you put it on the injury on her stomach," Anders instructed, yawning. "I'm off to bed."
"What is... in that?" Fenris asked, looking at the greenish goop with distaste.
"Elfroot, for general healing. Thyme, as an antiseptic. Some comfrey, for the bone injuries. Raw potato."
"Potato?" Fenris asked, incredulous. "Is this medicine or a meal?"
"It'll help with the inflammation," Anders shrugged. "See you in the morning, I guess. Wake me if there are any changes."
And with that, Anders left the room.
As much as Fenris hated the mage, and particularly hated when he was anywhere near Hawke, it was good to know he wasn't going to abandon her when she might take a turn for the worse at any moment.
Day One of Hawke's recovery was less frantic, but still urgently busy. Anders, Fenris, and Orana had to clean Hawke's injuries and change her bandages – and wasn't that just a barrel of laughs – and then they all settled in to much the same routine as the previous day: Anders providing healing both mundane and magical, Fenris assisting when he could, and the others coming in to see if there were any changes – but perhaps a bit less frequently than the day before.
Hawke hadn't woken, even still. Anders said that "wasn't uncommon," but, if it persisted, he'd find out why she wasn't responding. The others trusted his word on that and their fear relaxed somewhat; after all, Anders was the healer. He would know.
Only Fenris saw the tightness in his eyes.
Around tenth bell on Day Two, Anders discovered that Hawke was running a fever. Tension rose among the companions and erstwhile allies, and the fear that had been lessened the day before came back stronger than it had been when Hawke was first injured. Arguments broke out among all the companions, even the non-confrontational ones like Varric and Sebastian.
Hawke's room became a battleground, as Fenris accused the abomination of not doing enough to help Hawke, and Anders retorted that the slave didn't know what he was talking about.
"These things take time," Anders sighed, exasperated and exhausted after three straight days of healing. "Magic can't do everything."
For once, it seemed, they agreed on something.
Day Three, the screaming began.
Fenris had been half-dozing, if he were to be perfectly honest. Anders had gone to Lowtown to get even more herbalism supplies from one of Hawke's contacts. It seemed these injuries were truly severe, since they had run through all of the healing supplies at Hawke's estate and all of the ones the mage could spare from his clinic in just a few days. Anders hadn't returned yet, probably because all the chaos in the city made it difficult to get around.
Hawke's eyes were open and bloodshot, her face contorted into a mask of pure horror.
Normally, Fenris wouldn't have even wondered about Anders's whereabouts, but when Hawke began to writhe and shriek as if in pain, Fenris's concern grew. And, as with most times that Fenris had to feel things, he quickly became angry. Where was that blighted mage on the rare occasion when he was needed? Did he not care that Hawke was in pain? Did it not matter?
Of course it didn't. The mage, for all his doe-eyed looks in Hawke's direction, never cared for anyone but himself and the demon he allowed to live within him. If he had truly cared for her, he'd have sent someone else to Lowtown and stayed at her side to protect her, no matter what.
(The blatant hypocrisy of that thought escaped Fenris for the moment.)
Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana rushed into the room, as if they were one entity. Fenris tore his eyes from Hawke as the three servants practically fell over each other in the doorway. Their mistress was alternately screaming, sobbing, and gasping for air to do the other two. The looks of worry and fear on Bodahn and Orana's faces were identical. Sandal, however, was simply puzzled.
"Messere!" Bodahn cried, "What is going on?"
"I am uncertain," Fenris said, trying to maintain his weakening composure, "but she needs Anders. Now."
Bodahn nodded, sputtering out "I'll see what I can do," before running out of the room as quickly as his short legs would carry him.
The screaming began again, growing louder and more desperate than before. She called for her father, her mother, Carver, Bethany – anyone who could hear her, be merciful, Maker, please.
It became something less than human: the call of a terrified, trapped animal. It was the sound of suffering.
Fenris knew it all too well. He had hoped never to hear it again after leaving the Imperium.
When it subsided a few moments later, Orana left the room, murmuring something about making tea and gathering more bandages.
Sandal, however, stayed. He stepped up to the bed and the broken woman in it, his eyes full of curiosity and pity.
"Nice lady hurts," he said soothingly, placing a hand on Hawke's forehead. "Nice lady is scared."
Fenris was shocked; he hadn't been aware that the young dwarf could say anything more than "enchantment."
Oddly enough, Hawke seemed to be... better for the dwarf's small attention. She was no longer screaming, but the sobbing continued. Sandal was right; she was terrified. What was she seeing?
Sandal looked over at Fenris for the first time since entering the room. The dwarf seemed to look through him, rather than at him. It was unsettling.
"Help?" the dwarf said. He made it sound like a question.
"What do I do?" Fenris asked in return.
Sandal took his hand away from Hawke's forehead, and stared at the elf with that unsettling look again.
This time, Fenris understood. He began to stroke Hawke's hair, as he had done before. It seemed to help somewhat. Hawke relaxed a bit further, but still seemed frightened.
"Talk," Sandal whispered. Then he turned and left the room.
Of all the things the dwarf asked him to do, it had to be this. Talk? About what? Fenris didn't like to talk to people in general, having had little practice with it before his escape. He wasn't good at talking. How was he supposed to talk to someone who couldn't respond? And why, if she needed someone to talk to her, was Varric somewhere else? Varric could have told her a story, but Fenris couldn't think of any at the moment.
He moved his hand down to stroke her cheek in a slow, steady, comforting rhythm.
Feeling incredibly foolish, Fenris said, "Hawke. I am here. You are safe."
He didn't even know if she knew he was there. She was clearly delusional – probably from her fever. Was she hallucinating? If so, could she see anything but the hallucination? Could she hear and understand him? Could she feel his hand on her cheek? It seemed like it – she was visibly more relaxed than she had been – but the panic might be fading for other reasons.
Fenris began to sing. It was a haunting, melancholy melody. He could never recall having heard it before, but he knew it by heart. His voice was gentle and low as he softly sang for the often infuriating woman next to him.
Dormi, mi fili, dormi –
sunt qui dicunt
vitam beatam esse:
dicunt, dicant, nesciunt.
Dormi, mi fili, dormi –
veniet dies
quo tibi erit
larga, largissima quies.
Dormi, mi fili, dormi –
aderit mox
mihi, tum tibi
ultima, optima nox.
As he finished the song, he noticed that Hawke was truly asleep. She looked peaceful now, though still feverish.
He whispered, "Do not fear. I will be here when you wake."
A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you like the story so far!
Fenris doesn't belong to anyone – except Bioware. And so does everything else; I'm just playing with it.
The song Fenris sings at the end is called "Canticulum," and it's by composer Johannes Alexander Gaertner. I haven't been able to find a recording of the song, but the text is beautiful and perfect for a slave's lullaby, I think.
(For those of you looking for texts for Tevinters in general and Fenris in particular, is a great resource, and it's where I found this song.)
Translation:
Sleep, my dear child, sleep -
There are those who say
that life is blessed:
They say, let them say, they do not know what they say.
Sleep, my dear child, sleep -
The day will come
where you will know
a long, a very long rest.
Sleep, my dear child, sleep -
soon there will be
for me, then for you
the last, best night.