Chapter Five

9:34 Dragon

Kirkwall, Hawke Estate

The erstwhile companions of one Marian Hawke, newly-proclaimed Champion of Kirkwall and right pain in the ass, were sprawled about the study, waiting for Anders's latest report on their friend's condition.

Well, all of them except for Isabela, of course. She was still missing, having run off somewhere after the battle. Whether they admitted it or not, they all missed her brightness, her humor, her rather perky – erm – assets...

But, for now, Isabela was gone. The companions were uncertain if she'd ever return, and so they gathered without her.

Bodahn had, at first, invited them to stay for a few days while Messere Hawke began to heal, which all but Anders declined. He then modified the invitation for the rest of them to "pop in and out as you like, messeres, but please do come for dinner of an evening. It's... well, it's far too quiet without people coming and going."

That had been enough to get all of them there most nights.

Varric, as always, drew people around him like a fire draws moths and pursuers. He was seated in the center of the room (in Hawke's usual chair, naturally), spinning a tale that, like all the greatest stories ever told, began with No shit, I was there. Merrill was seated practically at his feet, wide-eyed and believing far more of the story than she should have (which Varric enjoyed a bit too much). Sebastian, who believed less of the story, enjoyed it nonetheless as he stoked the fire.

Aveline, who was pacing near Hawke's desk, had stopped by for a moment or two on her way to see Donnic. He had apparently insisted on making her dinner that evening, which had caused Aveline to hurt Orana's feelings by turning down a plate of traditional Tevinter cookies. (To be fair to Aveline, though, Donnic was, by all reports, a fantastic cook. This was convenient, since Hawke often called Aveline "the original cordon black chef.")

Fenris, as was his wont, was leaning against the far wall, cloaked in shadow, observing his companions without being observed himself.

This was the pattern they settled into nearly every night.

But tonight, Bodahn said two words that shattered their routine:

"She's awake."

Fenris believed that leaving Hawke was the hardest thing he'd ever done. He would have admitted that to anyone, even Hawke herself, had she asked. And it was still just as true after a few weeks had passed.

Climbing the stairs to see her now, though, handily took the number two spot.

He didn't quite have words to describe what he was feeling. Nervous? Anxious? Apprehensive? None of them sounded quite right. They were but components in the general disorder of his feelings. Concern was also there, of course. But there were other, less paranoid parts of him that felt softer, more gentle things that Fenris couldn't quite identify.

At least thinking about and trying to name his feelings allowed him to avoid actually feeling them.

He stopped at the door to her room, as did the others. They had moved as if of one mind, leaving the study and climbing the stairs in utter silence.

Bodahn slipped into the bedroom ahead of them all, as they awkwardly waited on the landing, and informed Anders that they all wanted to see Hawke.

"I'm not sure Hawke is up to having so many visitors all at once," they heard Anders reply.

"I don't think you'll be able to keep them out, Messere," Bodahn chuckled. "They seem fairly determined."

"A short visit, then," Anders allowed.

When did the abomination begin running Hawke's household? Fenris thought grumpily.

Bodahn ushered them in, saying, "Try not to make too much noise, now. Messere Hawke needs her rest, hm?"

Then he disappeared down the stairs, presumably to give the good news to Sandal, if he hadn't already.

The companions crammed into Hawke's bedroom, all standing stiffly about as if they were unsure what to do.

At least Fenris wasn't alone in that, this time.

Anders, who looked like the Void warmed over, was seated in Fenris's usual chair, which he had only left so that Hawke could have some privacy while Anders and Orana examined her.

As for Hawke herself...

Her arms, neck, and face were all they could see of her. The rest of her body was covered by a warm blanket. Though the room was far too hot, stifling even Fenris (who was used to tropical climates), Hawke's fever would have made her feel cold.

Hawke's arms were heavily bandaged, since they had sustained some fairly nasty bruises. Her right wrist had broken just after the fight with the Arishok, as she tried to catch herself when she fell. Her neck was covered in thick finger marks – one of the Qunari before the Arishok had attempted to strangle her; thankfully he hadn't succeeded.

Her face, though, was a sad sight.

By this time, it was practically purple; it had taken a few days for the bruises to appear, as bruises do, and there were so many of them that she was scarcely recognizable. The swelling had gone down, though. Thank the Maker for small mercies.

But lively, beautiful Hawke was more broken than most of them had realized. At least Fenris had seen her since the battle, but seeing her injured and unconscious was completely different than... this.

Hawke didn't smile when she saw them. If anything, she looked exhausted, drained and inexpressibly sad.

"How is she, Anders?" Aveline asked, not letting her concern show too much.

"Better than I thought she'd be, to be honest," Anders said with a reassuring, if tired, smile, "but we still have quite a way to go yet."

"Do you expect that she'll make a full recovery?" Sebastian asked, moving to lean on the wall near the fireplace.

"It will take some time, but I expect she'll be back on her feet and getting into her usual trouble eventually," Anders replied with a nod.

"Have you found out what caused her coma?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

Anders shook his head, "It could honestly be one of any number of factors. I'm not sure which it is."

Are they just going to continue to address Anders? Fenris thought as the others asked more questions about Hawke's condition and treatment. He was starting to get truly irritated. What is the point of coming up here to see her if no one will acknowledge that she is present?

Fenris felt something touch his arm.

Sharply, he turned to engage whatever it was – and saw Aveline. She jerked her head toward Hawke.

"Go on," she muttered. "She needs you."

"What are you..." Fenris began.

He looked Aveline in the face. Her eyes were filled with warm, friendly sympathy for him as well as Hawke.

Venhedis.

She knew.

Before he could focus on that thought, argue with Aveline, or leave, she nudged him with her shoulder.

"Go on," Aveline commanded quietly, pushing him forward.

Fenris stumbled, trying to maintain his balance and composure. Everyone's eyes – except Anders's – were on him.

Thanks, Aveline, he thought dryly.

He took a step or two forward, to make it look like he'd moved on purpose. He stood next to the bed for a moment before sitting down.

Clearing his throat and taking one of Hawke's hands in his, Fenris asked, "Hawke? How do you feel?"

Hawke looked over at him, astonished. Her eyes darted down to their hands, then snapped back up to his face, as if she doubted Fenris's presence.

Fenris couldn't help the low, rumbling chuckle that escaped him. (Not that he had exactly tried, of course.)

"She shouldn't speak," Anders said shortly. "She needs to conserve her energy."

Deciding to ignore the mage, Fenris asked, "Are you in any pain?"

Hawke started to shake her head, but winced as she moved her neck too far. A collective sigh went around the companions. She was so stubborn.

"Hawke..." Aveline warned from her post near the door, "we can't help you if you don't let us."

Their friendly female rogue heaved a dramatic sigh and, with her comparatively good hand, gently touched her temple, her neck, and her right shoulder.

"Can you help her with that, Anders?" Fenris asked politely.

Hawke stared at Fenris, eyes wide and an eyebrow quirked in disbelief.

"Don't read too much into it," Anders said from Hawke's other side, "it won't last."

Fenris shot Anders a cold glare as the mage's hands began to glow with blue-white light. Anders positioned one hand just above her head and the other above her chest, without touching her. The light gushed from his hands and sank into Hawke's head, neck, and shoulder, just where she had indicated. She sighed contentedly, her eyes closing as she relaxed further into her pillow.

All of Hawke's friends noticed how drained and tired she looked.

"I think we should leave you be for a bit," Sebastian said, standing up from the wall.

Aveline said, "Hawke, I'm going to Donnic's for dinner tonight. I'll bring you some leftovers."

Merrill, who hadn't said anything the entire time, walked up to the bed and gently put her arms around Hawke's neck, much to Hawke's surprise and Anders and Fenris's annoyance.

"I'm glad you're getting well," she whispered, her voice thick with tears. "Rest, lethallan."

Clearing his throat, Varric said, "Yeah, we should really let you rest up."

Hawke gave them all a small, grateful look as she closed her eyes and relaxed.

The group began to move toward the door the same way they had come in – all at once. Varric, however, turned back before any of them left.

"And, um, Hawke?" he coughed.

Hawke's eyes opened slightly, meeting Varric's.

"This is as close to your funeral as I ever want to get," he commanded, trying to mask how uncomfortable he felt. "Don't do this again."

"I'll second that," Sebastian responded.

"I agree," said Aveline.

"Yes, refrain," Anders replied.

"I agree as well. Please don't," Merrill chimed in.

Fenris squeezed Hawke's hand and assented with a look that was clearer than any words.

"Motion carries," Varric said with a nod.

Hawke covered her mouth with her good hand. Her shoulders began to shake, and she made gasping noises that honestly could have been laughing or crying.

"Are you hurt? What's wrong?" Fenris demanded.

She wiped a few tears from her eyes before croaking, "Nothing. Everything."

No one spoke for a long moment as Hawke continued to laugh and cry. She took several shuddering breaths as she vainly attempted to compose herself.

"You blighted bastards," she said, her voice cracking from disuse, "that's the first time you've ever agreed on anything."

And as she kept laughing, Fenris thought that Hawke, even bruised, beaten, and broken as she was, had never been more beautiful.