Chapter Text
"You are too late, Champion!"
There's a mockery to the title, as if Hawke actually picked it out himself rather than having it foisted on him by a grateful and flammable city, and Hawke just rolls his eyes as the leader of the bandits glares up at him from the ground.
He's near death already, bleeding heavily from several stab wounds, but he continues to show an impressive commitment to threats as he crows, "We will be victorious! All of Kirkwall will know the name of R-"
He dissolves into coughs.
Hawke looks at him with sympathy. "Well, you tried."
"I shall succeed!" the leader grits out.
A fireball forms in the palm of his hand, barely strong enough to light more than two feet of the tunnel, and Hawke kicks his arm with a sigh before he can throw it anywhere. The fireball rolls sadly away and Hawke draws his dagger as he says, "This is for the best, really."
He drives it through the bandit's chest with ease and steps back as death finally takes him.
Satisfied that he's dead, he turns around to where Isabela and Merrill are cleaning blood off themselves. "Anyone want to go for lunch? I think Alfonse has some rabbit pie today."
"Hawke!"
He turns around at Fenris' shout. "You do need to eat some sort of lunch, Fenris. I'll buy you all the wine you want later but you'd be missing out on-"
"The fuse!" Fenris cuts in and Hawke glances over his shoulder to see the fizz of fire along the floor of the cave.
Claiming to have discovered the equivalent of qunari blackpowder, the bandits piled a wagon full of the stuff in one of the tunnels beneath Kirkwall with the intention of setting it alight and blowing half of Hightown to smithereens. Hawke managed to foil the bulk of the plan but his heart sinks as he realises that the leader's final fireball caught the tail end of the powder leading to the wagon of explosives.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck…"
The four of them sprint for the wagon at the same time. Still shedding the last of her stone armor, Merrill falls behind but Hawke sees the flare of Fenris' lyrium as he jumps ahead in a fade-powered blur. The fuse flickers as it burns and Hawke slows to a jog as Fenris gets closer and closer to stopping it.
"He's not going to make it," Isabela says, gasping for breath. "It's burning too quick."
"He'll make it," Hawke says as Fenris leaps ahead again. "He's speedy, he-"
The fire reaches the wagon with Fenris just out of arm's reach.
"Shit," Hawke says.
The hiss of the fuse seems to stretch on for an eternity but Hawke grabs Isabela and dives for cover when the wagon ignites.
The explosion shakes through the tunnels, heat bursting from the barrels, and Hawke's eyes widen when the force of the detonation knocks Fenris clear off his feet to send him flying through the air. "Fenris!"
Green smoke rather than black billows from the wagon and Hawke pushes himself to his feet as he looks up at the roof of the tunnel in disbelief. It still looks firmly intact, with Hightown safe and secure above it, and Hawke's attention jumps back to Fenris before he can wonder too much about what the bandits actually put in those barrels.
"Fenris?"
Expecting a grumpy reply, Hawke can't help but be unsettled by the answering silence. He hurries over, shaking dust and soot out of his hair as he goes, but comes to an abrupt halt when he finds Fenris' weapons and armor in a heap on the ground with no Fenris in sight.
"Fenris!"
Dropping to his knees, he paws over the armor in search of clues but pulls back with a yelp when he touches something warm and alive. "What the-"
Something small and dark scrambles out from underneath Hawke's hands, making a beeline for a hiding place behind the nearest crate, and Hawke pushes himself back to his feet as Isabela and Merrill move to his side.
"Did I hit my head or did Fenris just disappear?" Isabela asks.
"Both," Merrill says helpfully. "Did something just run away?"
"It's probably a demon," Hawke mutters. "It's nearly noon and nothing's tried to claw me to death yet. I knew it was too good to last."
"Maybe it's an animal," Isabela says hopefully. "Like that week you got turned into a cat. That was fun."
"You gave me ale and I threw up for a day."
"You stole my ale," Isabela corrects. "And Fenris is still living with you, so dealing with you as a smashed cat obviously didn't irreparably damage your relationship."
"I think Anders is still a little bitter," Merrill says. "Fenris was very protective."
"Quite pussessive," Isabela agrees.
Hawke groans. "Please can we reminisce when we're not in the middle of a new crisis?" he says. "Once we have Fenris back, you can make bad cat jokes to your heart's content."
Isabela beams. "Deal."
"All right." He straightens up, drawing his daggers. "You go left and I go right. If it's a demon, we need it alive until we figure out how to get Fenris back."
"And if it's Fenris in cat form, I get to pet it first," Isabela says.
Hawke scowls as he inches closer to the crate. "You do remember that Fenris and I are together?"
"Yes, I've given it lots of thought," Isabela says, unashamed.
The creature doesn't move as they approach. It's curled up smaller than the crate, pressing itself against the wood and keeping very still, and Hawke comes to a halt when he makes out tiny brown toes poking out of the dark bundle. "What in the…"
Merrill's brow creases as she gets nearer. "Is it a very small demon?"
The maybe-demon whimpers at the question and Hawke readies himself when the bundle uncurls itself enough to lift its head. The mop of dark hair nearly obscures half its face but Hawke blinks in shock when he finds himself looking into a pair of familiar green eyes. "Fenris?"
Even as those eyes grow wider in fear, there's no mistaking their owner. Fenris' features are softer with youth, his skin unmarked with lyrium and his eyebrows slightly less impressive, but it's definitely his face that Hawke is staring at. He's tiny, swamped in Fenris' normal black tunic and covered with soot from the explosion, and Hawke's heart clenches at the silent tears which roll down his cheeks as Fenris watches him nervously.
"Maker, Fenris…"
Fenris flinches back when Hawke drops to his knees in front of him. His voice is soft and higher pitched as he stammers, "Obsecro te, obsecro te, please-"
"Holy shit," Isabela says from behind Fenris.
"He's a child?" Merrill asks. "Creators, how is that possible?"
"Holy shit," Isabela says again with feeling.
Hawke scowls at both of them and tries to school his face into a non-threatening expression when he looks back at Fenris. Given the amount of blood on his clothes and hair, he's not confident he succeeds but he sheathes his daggers and holds his hands out to Fenris as he says gently, "I'm not going to hurt you. Do you understand me?"
"V-Vero," Fenris stutters. "Yes, ser."
"Great," Hawke says. "That's really great, Fenris." He grins. "You always were smarter than me. Do you speak Common?"
Fenris nods, pulling his knees up closer to his chin.
"All right," Hawke says. "We should introduce ourselves. My name is Hawke. Like the bird."
He flaps to demonstrate. Fenris watches, suspicious.
"This is Merrill," Hawke says, pointing behind Fenris to where Merrill is giving a wave. "And this is Isabela."
Isabela stares blankly until Merrill grabs her wrist and shakes it in a makeshift wave.
"We're your friends," Hawke continues. "Do you remember us?"
The tears keep falling as Fenris shakes his head. "Friends?"
"We're going to look after you," Hawke promises. "We're going to keep you safe until we put things right."
Fenris swallows hard, visibly bracing for a hit as he asks, "Did I do something wrong?"
"No!" the three of them say at the same time. The noise seems to scare Fenris more than a blow and Hawke lets Merrill be the one to speak up.
"You didn't do anything, sweetheart," she says gently. "There was just a small explosion which caused a little time distortion. Definitely not your fault at all."
Fenris stares up at her, lost. Hawke knows the feeling.
"You landed pretty hard," he says, inching closer to Fenris. "Are you hurt?"
Fenris' hesitation is as good as a 'yes' and Hawke ducks down to meet his eyes. "Can you show me where it hurts?"
More tears spill down Fenris' cheeks and he catches his lip between his teeth as he holds his arm out.
"Shit," Isabela says with sympathy.
His arm is badly swollen, the wrist bent at a worrying angle from where Fenris landed badly on the ground. While the bone hasn't broken the skin, his wrist is darkening where the blood is pooling beneath the surface and Hawke cringes at the lack of movement in Fenris' fingers.
"No wonder he's crying," Merrill says sadly. "You made much more noise than that the last time you broke your arm, Hawke."
"I think all of Darktown learned at least eight new curse words by the time Anders finished patching you up," Isabela says. "'Chickenfuck' was my personal favourite." She peers down into her cleavage. "I think I might have something to help with the pain in here somewhere…"
"I'm not drugging him," Hawke says. "He's so small -- I don't want to give him too big a dose by accident." He looks back at Fenris again. "We're going to get you to a very nice healer -- do you think you can keep being brave until then?"
There's something familiar about Fenris' expression when he nods. Hawke's seen it often enough when he asks Fenris to accompany him to the Bone Pit or the sewers or anywhere that Anders will be but it's more than a little heartbreaking to see it on a child with a badly broken arm.
Fenris wipes at his nose with his good hand and Hawke pats him on the shoulder. "Thank you. Can you stand up for me?"
It takes a bit of assistance from Hawke and Merrill but Fenris makes it to his feet, holding his injured arm to his chest. His tunic is awkwardly large, sagging around him and catching under his feet, but Isabela draws a knife from her boot and slices the bottom off before any of them can stop her.
Once the tunic only just reaches Fenris' knees, Hawke uses half a bootlace to cinch it tighter around Fenris' waist and then steps back to admire his handiwork.
The tunic promptly falls half off Fenris' shoulder and flares out oddly from his waist.
"We need to get you new clothes," Hawke says, defeated. "Also a bath and some food and possibly a nap." He looks up at Isabela and Merrill. "Do you know anything about children?"
"I know to avoid them," Isabela offers. "They have sticky hands and make lots of noise."
"That describes at least six of the men you've dated in the last three years."
Isabela waves it away. "Dated is a very strong word. Besides, I'm not the one currently dating a four year old."
Hawke rubs his eyes. "Thank you so much for your support." He sighs. "I miss Fenris. Big Fenris."
"I'm sure there's a way to get him back," Merrill says, ever optimistic. "Hopefully it won't involve blood sacrifices."
"I can dream," Hawke says honestly.
Between them, Fenris whimpers and Hawke looks down to see that he's back on his knees.
"Oh, no," he says quickly, crouching down and cupping Fenris' cheek in an effort to stop him shaking. "There won't really be any blood sacrifices, we promise."
"And definitely not with you," Isabela says, ruffling Fenris' dark hair. "We only stab bad people."
Fenris stares up at her with impossibly wide eyes. Hawke wills away the headache forming at his temples.
"Nobody is stabbing anybody," he says firmly. "We are all very nice people who are in no way prone to violence."
Merrill clears her throat and nods to the bodies of the bandits littering the cave.
"All these people just happened to die of natural causes before we got here," Hawke continues smoothly.
Fenris clambers back to his feet to peer at the body of the bandit leader (and the numerous stab wounds thereon).
Hawke coughs into his fist. "Extremely bloody natural causes. It's very tragic."
Catching Fenris by the shoulders, he rotates him away from the bodies and then gets to work on tugging the sleeve off his shirt. It's one of his better ones but he's pleased to discover that the bloodstains aren't even that noticeable as he bends down to loop it around Fenris' arm.
He tries very hard not to notice how pliable Fenris is, despite the amount of pain he has to be in, and concentrates on fastening the makeshift sling around his neck and shoulder before crooking a finger under his chin. "How does that feel?"
Fenris' face is still far too pale but the tears seem to stop a little when he nods. "B-Better, ser."
"Great." Hawke gives him what he hopes is a reassuring smile as he stands and holds his hand out. "How about we go and see the very nice healer? He'll get you all fixed up."
It feels like a victory when Fenris reaches up to take his hand. Fenris falls into step beside him, bare feet padding along the dirt of the tunnels, and as they head for the exit up to Darktown, Hawke catches Isabela's whisper, "Please can I be there when you try to explain this to Anders?"