Author's Note:

Taking a short break from my Mass Effect fic to write a little something that's been on my mind after my first playthrough of DA II. It exceeded my expectations with how awesome it is, but I felt like putting this scene into writing, basically because this is about as frustrating and difficult as I found this battle in-game, with my rogue Hawke. Although, I have taken a few slight liberties. But then again, a straight re-telling of events we already know would just be boring, right?

Ah, I just love my Daedra. She is my first Hawke, and possibly will remain my favorite. Her laughing sarcasm and Fenris' brooding nature (yet subtle shows of affection) are just too adorable to pass up. I intend to romance Anders on my next playthrough, but I don't know if I can resist that VOICE. Unf.

As always, I welcome reviews, and this was a fairly quick write so there's probably some mistakes. Feel free to offer any constructive criticism. I'm sure I could always use a little improvement. Also, PLEASE let me know if Fenris seems OOC. He's one of the best written characters in the DAII universe, so I want to do him justice.

Enjoy, and thanks for reading,

-i.I

Disclaimer: Dragon Age II and all of its characters are the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts. I could never hope to own something so awesome.

Time Frame: The end of Act II. The duel with the Arishok.

To the Death
Part One: The Duel

I am an idiot.

The thought crashed through her mind as she dodged yet another swing from the Arishok's massive sword. What possessed her to think she, with her measly two daggers, could possibly take on this beast of a creature that stood at nearly twice her height and seemed to command followers with merely a glance? Despite his size, he still seemed to move with surprising speed, and through this entire, excruciatingly long battle, she found herself only fast enough to get two solid hits into his skin before he rounded on her with a swing strong enough to cleave her head from her shoulders.

She cursed Fenris for getting her into this. But she knew better than that, so she cursed her stupidity, instead. The elf had seemed so... confident in her ability when he made the suggestion to duel. Did he really think so highly of her? Did she think so highly of herself? She could have declined the duel, like any rogue in a right mind would have done, but her blasted pride had prevented her from doing so. She'd thought this massive beast couldn't compare to her speed, and it would be a good battle, but a short one.

Oh, how wrong she had been.

Hawke's energy was failing fast and she'd dodged far more close calls than fate should have allowed. Even that was before he'd kicked Alden aside and the mabari collapsed on the edge of the arena in exhaustion and injury. But from what she could see when she managed to spare a quick glance, he was still breathing, and Anders was already moving towards him. Thank the Maker.

The fact that the lumbering Qunari already sported two wounds from her daggers didn't even seem to faze him. Despite her quicker pace and her unwounded state, it was her fatigue that would be the death of her. But she couldn't slow down lest the Qunari destroy her.

And so she fought. She tried her best to budget her strength as she whipped around him, stabbing her daggers in every opening she could find. She managed to duck under his outstretched arm again once he made to attack her once more. She successfully felt her left blade slice into flesh as she came up behind him, cutting her dagger vertically up his back and digging the other into his shoulder beneath his pauldron. Hot blood poured over her hand, and he cried out in a guttural growl. He dropped the enormous axe from his right hand, staggering forward for a moment as Hawke withdrew the dagger from his back, but he slipped away before she could grip her other, leaving her with one blood-slicked blade.

She took the moment to catch her breath, but it lasted only seconds before he leapt at her. He didn't even bother to remove her dagger from his shoulder. His remaining sword came across in a horizontal arc directly for her abdomen, and she threw her arms out before her, using their momentum to push her midsection out of the blade's reach.

Time slowed to a crawl, and it was then that she realized she'd made a horrible mistake.

She'd successfully dodged his sword, but his free hand clamped down on her outstretched forearm with enough force to elicit a cry from her lips. She had enough time to glance upwards into his vengeful glare before he yanked her close. Terror wrapped bony fingers around her heart, choking it, and searing pain ripped into her abdomen and out through her back so strongly that she was sure he'd severed her torso from her legs.

Her vision blurred, and she felt herself being lifted off her feet.

"No..." Someone's voice muttered from the sidelines as her last remaining dagger clattered on ground. A deep intense voice that she should of recognized, but was too ravaged by pain to think clearly enough to do so.

Her own voice was a mess of gurgled coughing and hiccupped screams as the Arishok held her in mid-air. Out of reflex, her hands clasped the sword impaling her and she felt it bite into the skin of her palms as she attempted to reduce the weight distribution on the blade, to no avail. She was entirely at his mercy... if he had any. Which he probably didn't.

Her vision grew dark around the edges and the cacophony surrounding them dimmed to a low white noise as the terror squeezed her heart again and she struggled for breath.

I don't want to die...

Not like this...

"Daedra!"

Fenris? A detached part of her mind mused as the voice distinguished itself from the noise. The one voice that wasn't family whom she had once allowed to call her by her given name. It almost feels weird to hear him call me that again...

The light glinted off of something metal that intruded in the blackening of her vision, tearing her attention away from the voice and she was angry at it for doing so. A beat passed long enough for Hawke's mind to clear and the blackness to give way to her dagger, still embedded in the Qunari's shoulder.

Wait a second. When did I give up? She scolded as the dagger brought with it a common sense she seemed to have abandoned earlier, When have I ever given up on anything? When did I make the decision to die? By the Maker, if I'm going to die, I'll do it with my damn dignity still intact!

Time sped up again as she removed one of her hands from the Qunari blade and closed it around her own, ripping it from his shoulder and swinging it upwards, cleaving through something as she did so, and whatever it was landed on the ground with a thump. He growled again, distracted, and she felt herself lower a little. But she wasn't finished yet. She took her dagger in both hands and expended all of her remaining strength to thrust it directly into his chest.

He made not a sound as she felt her feet touch solid ground again. His eyes went out of focus, and a cloud of disbelief settled over him. They staggered backwards from each other, the opposite actions pulling his blade free of her abdomen with a jet of blood before it clanked on the marble floor. She collapsed to her knees, her hands pressed tight to her stomach in an attempt to stem the flow of blood, and the Arishok's voice reached her, hampered by laboured breathing as he pulled himself backwards onto the marble stairs. One of his horns was cut to a stump and the remaining half lay at the foot of the stairs beneath him.

"One day... we shall... return..."

And then he breathed his last breath.

It's over... I'm alive... right?

Hawke dared not speak. She didn't trust herself to do so without coughing blood. Whether she did so didn't matter, though, because when she tried to rise, blood sputtered forth from her mouth the moment she got one foot planted beneath her. She felt the world tilt. Strong arms caught her before she hit the ground and another hand joined her own to cover her wound. She wasn't sure what good it would do considering she had another just like it in her back.

She looked up to the face of the one who was helping her. Though her vision was blurred, she could make out a shaggy mess of white hair and dark eyebrows drawn into a frown.

"F-Fen...ris..." Maker, is that my voice?

"She looks bad..." Someone muttered, but it sounded distant.

"Mage!" The elf yelled.

"I'm here."

Fenris looked up for a brief moment before returning his gaze back to her. She wanted to keep her eyes open. Truly, she did. She wanted to focus on those moss green eyes for the rest of her life – however short it was. But the second she felt the tingle of healing magic flow into her bones, relaxing her, the voices of her companions mottled together, exhaustion overtook her and her vision clouded to darkness.

Light stabbed into her eyelids when she later regained consciousness, and she kept her eyes pinned shut against the unwelcome intrusion. She wasn't certain how long it took her to finally open her eyes, but she did know that it took longer than necessary, and a great deal of effort. When they finally did open, and she took in her surroundings, she recognized her bedroom in the estate. The room was empty, as far as she could tell, but she dared not move to be sure of it. Her limbs felt like they were three times their normal weight.

She moved her eyes about the room, and it was then that she noticed the quiet, even breathing of another in her midst. Her neck was stiff, but she pulled through the pain enough to look to her left, where she thought the sound was coming from.

There, lounged in an armchair, with his legs stretched out before him and his lyrium-laced arms folded across his chest, was Fenris, his head tilted back in slumber.

Her lips tugged into a weak smile as she looked on his relaxed form, breathing steadily at the side of her bed. The dark scowl that he tended to maintain while in the presence of others was (almost) gone, and she would (almost) describe him as looking peaceful. Almost.

She tried to move, but fire tore through her midsection with the exertion and she hissed quietly through the pain. It was then that she noticed the pressure under her night shift, so she lifted it to see bandages wrapped tightly around her abdomen from her hips to the underside of her bust, a deep red stain in the middle where she'd been impaled on the Arishok's blade. A cold shiver ran down her spine just thinking about the experience, so she pushed the thought from her mind.

Taking another breath, Hawke pushed herself up on her forearms and slid her hips back until she was (more or less) resting against the wall behind her, gritting her teeth and resisting the urge to cry out from the pain and awaken her companion. How long had he been sitting there? Long enough to fall asleep, she guessed. How long had she been unconscious?

Suddenly, the door opened, and in strode Anders with a tray of medical supplies, followed unsurprisingly at the heels by Merrill. When they saw her, they stopped in their tracks, "Hawke, you're awake! And why are you sitting up?"

"Shh!" She quieted Anders, and motioned to the sleeping elf at her side with her arm, but it was too late. Fenris stirred, and his head shot up to make eye-contact with her. For the briefest of moments, he looked surprised. Relieved, even. But it was gone as quick as it had appeared.

"You're awake." He said simply, echoing the others.

She let a tiny smirk pull the corner of her mouth as she looked over at him, "So are you."

"It's not surprising that he fell asleep." Merrill said cheerfully as Anders placed the tray of supplies on the table beside the bed. She grabbed a couple of elfroot leaves from the tray along with a few other ingredients and set about making what looked to be an elfroot potion, "He hasn't left your side since he carried you here."

She faced him, "You... carried me all the way down here from the Viscount's Keep?"

Fenris was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable, "You were injured. I was the strongest warrior, so I carried you."

"Right." Anders added under his breath, his voice dripping with sarcasm, as he prepared the various healing poultices and bandages, "That's the only reason, I'm sure."

She didn't comment on that, but decided to have a little fun while she could, facing Fenris again, "Strongest warrior? Are you calling me fat?"

She may well have been mistaken, but the elf's eyes might have widened a fraction, "Not at all, I..." He trailed off then, catching her tone and his eyes then narrowed ever so slightly, "You know better than that."

"Do I now?" She responded, her smile not leaving.

"Pardon me," Anders interrupted, "but you realize we'll have to change your bandages sometime today, right? Preferably sooner, rather than later?"

"Ah... yes. Right." She muttered, "Help me sit up, then."

The two mages took hold of her upper arms for support and helped her slowly slide to the edge of the bed, clenching her teeth and letting her feet fall to the floor while she sat upright. She pulled her shirt upwards over the bandages and held it in place with her arms to remain unexposed while Merrill knelt before her, that cheerful innocent smile never leaving her face, poultices in hand. Anders sat beside her on the bed, tending to the wound on her back.

"How—" she hissed through the sting of poultices being placed on her injuries, "How long have I been out?"

"Almost four days." The elf in front of her responded, smearing the gelatine-like substance over her abdomen and holding it in place with bandages while the warm tingling of healing magic seeped into the muscles of her back.

"Four days..." She muttered. And Fenris has been here the whole time?

Hawke looked back over her shoulder, and saw that his gaze was glued to her back, where the blue glow of Anders' healing magic hovered over the sight of an ugly wound that she couldn't see. The elf's expression was unreadable, as usual, but she did notice the muscles in his jaw flexing.

"The Qunari," she turned back to face Merrill, "are they gone?"

She nodded, "The last ones left the city yesterday, in fact."

"Thanks to Kirkwall's new champion," Anders added, "who drove them out after risking her life to kill the Arishok."

"Champion?" She looked over at him, "Me?"

"You're lucky you killed him when you did," He continued, "Otherwise, you might have died first. You were in pretty rough shape."

Hawke groaned, "Don't remind me. What was going through my head when I decided I was strong enough to take on the bloody Arishok?"

"At least you succeeded." Merrill offered.

"But I almost died in the process." She scoffed, "Me and my stupid pride. The next time I consider taking on an enemy like that by myself, will someone smack some sense into me?"

The sound of the chair behind her scraping across the floor drew her gaze back over her shoulder again, only to see Fenris rising and refusing to meet her eyes, "I... should go."

"Fenris..."

He didn't comment further, and her brow furrowed in confusion as the door shut behind him. She looked at Anders questioningly.

"Don't look at me." He replied, "If you don't know what's going on in his head, there's no hope for the rest of us to know. Certainly not me."

"Maybe... he'll come back later."