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The last thing he remembered was the world was spinning out into the setting sun. It was a sickening sensation. And when he woke up? No better. It was made worse by the ache burning through his veins, by the dryness in his mouth, the cold bite of metal around his wrists. What... had happened? Where... was he?
"... Fenris." Fenris had been there, with him, as they had torn through group after group of slavers. Fenris, by his side, lyrium glowing, fingers stained red, a smile twisted onto his features, genuine joy shining in his eyes as they shared a glance before breaking apart to parry the blows being rained down upon them.
Tracking those slavers, just him and Fenris; it was the happiest Hawke had seen Fenris in some time.
And now? He couldn't remember what happened. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know where Fenris was. And so, he tried again, cracking out strained words over chapped lips. "Fenris...?" It came out barely more than a whisper. His head, he couldn't hear past the pounding in his head, focus past anything than the churning in his gut, the rushing in his ears.
Except...
"- when we kill you, then we'll see how feisty you are. Already killed one of our men!"
"Vishante kaffas!"
There was the sound of scuffling, limbs hitting the ground with a thud that brought Hawke around a little more. "We expected a fight from the great Champion, but not from his elven pet."
"... ris..." Hawke cleared his throat. "Fenris."
"Ah, he awakens!" Hawke winced slightly at the sharp voice that crashed against his eardrums. "I thought maybe my boys had killed you," the voice continued, "which, of course, is going to happen, anyway, but that's going to be my pleasure, not theirs."
There was a witty comeback, something ready to fall off the tip of his tongue- except not. His mind was fuzzy, his hands were bound, and Fenris was spitting curses in Tevene until, with a thump, he wasn't.
"We'll see how well you talk when we cut your tongue out!"
No.
"No. Wait." The footsteps grew nearer, and Hawke struggled to force himself further into consciousness. There was something very not right, something keeping him down mentally, poison, maybe? Or they had been drugged. He had been drugged. Fenris was still fighting. It was more than he could do right now. "Let the elf watch as we cut out his Champion's tongue."
"No."
"... Can't let you do that," Hawke muttered, trying to prop himself up. He slid back down, and the press of metal against his wrists stung as he fished into his consciousness for his magic. It didn't come. "... I like the sound of my voice... too much."
"Won't make a difference when you're dead." The man finally came into view, crouching down next to him. Human. His accent was Ferelden, familiar, but still there was... something... "And there's nothing you can do about it. Those shackles on your wrists? Inhibitors. Try to use your magic. It won't tickle."
That explained a few things. The only other thing was why was he so sluggish in coming back - and coming back to what, exactly; where were they? - and he could guess at that reason, too. The man was right; didn't matter if he was going to be dead. They needed a distraction, at least until a second wave of his party would come looking for them.
Which would be a lot easier if his head didn't hurt so much.
"Now... which part first? The tongue? A finger?"
Hawke stopped listening. He'd finally gotten his eyes on Fenris, across the room. He was fine, he looked fine. Ruffled up, a little, hate in his dark green eyes, hair in a disarray, flickers of his lyrium flashing to life. Hawke smiled at him crookedly. Fenris did not smile back. So serious-
The flash of pain was unexpected, mostly because he'd been too immersed in Fenris, Fenris being safe, Fenris being alive, Fenris; blood ran down from the wound of his and Hawke only bit his tongue against the shout. It didn't matter. Fenris was the one to start yelling then.
"Hawke- stop it! Stop!"
"Or I'll just scar up your pretty face in the meantime. I like hearing this one beg for you."
That was an awful lot of blood. It probably would scar. But there was a silver lining. The pain was helping to finally clear his head.
"Leave him alone!" Fenris spat.
"Fenris, don't." Don't give them the satisfaction.
"What next, little elf?" The man stood, bloodied knife in hand. "You pick. Which part of your Champion should I take off first?"
For a moment, Fenris looked like he was going to curse and spit again. It did not come. "Leave him alone," he said instead, voice rumbling. But the emotion in that rumble... It wasn't anger. Not exactly.
The man looked bored. "Why should I?"
Fenris glared up at him. Looked between him, and Hawke.
I'm fine, Fenris. Hawke tried to convey it with his eyes. He wasn't sure if he succeeded, turning his head away instead to spit out the blood. Sure, he was bleeding, but it was just a cut, it would heal. More or less. He was fine, Fenris didn't need to look at him with that look, he didn't.
". . . Please."
His head spun from the way he jerked his eyes back to Fenris. What?
"Please," Fenris repeated, "don't... hurt him."
No... no, no, this was all wrong, Fenris wasn't supposed to use that tone for anything. One of Hawke's promises to himself was that he would make it so Fenris never had to beg for anything, especially not his life. "Fenris."
Fenris ignored him. Instead, he folded to his knees, splaying bloodied fingers against the cement ground when he was granted release from the men holding his arms. "Please. Take me instead."
"Fenris!"
"Don't hurt him."
Fenris was the perfect picture of submission. And it made Hawke sick. It hurt worse than the knife wound. He'd take fifty scars to... this.
"Fenris, get up!" he bit out. "You don't have to do this!"
"Quiet, Champion," the man said, waving the dagger at him. "This is entertaining. Keep talking, knife-ear."
The rush of anger was accompanied by power through his veins, magic flaring to the tips of his fingers before being snuffed out, the irritation huffing out in a half gasp at the pain it caused.
Fenris twitched. Didn't look up. "My lyrium," he continued slowly, quietly, "is worth more than you can imagine." Forearm braced against the ground, head bowed, he held up one of his hands. "It runs throughout my entire body."
"Fenris, no." He couldn't seem to say anything else. The horror of the spectacle in front of him was knocking the breath from his lungs. Not for me, Fenris, not for me, don't do this. He finally managed to sit up enough to slump back against the wall.
"You can kill me," Fenris said, "or... there are people. People who would be interested in retrieving me. No matter the price."
"You are not selling yourself for me," Hawke hissed. "You are not something to be sold-"
"Oh, do the elf a favor and shut that big mouth of yours," the man interrupted, fingers twitching into the air.
Hawke realized the man was a mage a half second before the jolt of electricity shot down his bones. His teeth rattled from the shock, and again the cool confines of blackness swept across his vision.
"- leave him - please! - whatever you want-"
He could catch words, here and there, the voice so frantic that it was so uncharacteristically Fenris that Hawke could almost imagine that this was a dream. That they were safe, that Fenris was tucked up against his side on the silk sheets in the estate, and he was having one weird dream after a night of Wicked Grace and too much drinking.
His consciousness fluttered. That would have been frustrating even if he hadn't just gotten back to himself, even if Fenris wasn't in danger by his own devices - for him, no less - but it was equally moreso because he was helpless regardless. And he knew it. He could do not one thing to help himself, and he could do nothing to help Fenris, either.
"... here, little elf. No, let him free. He knows he has been beaten. Kneel."
I'm going to kill this asshole.
Fenris knelt wordlessly.
Don't do this to yourself, Fenris!
"You were a slave before, weren't you? Head back."
Fenris tilted his head back obediently. The look in his eyes was that he was trying very hard to be far away, and that he wasn't succeeding. The anger had been replaced with...
The mage gripped at Fenris's chin, turning his head one way, then the other. Inspecting the markings down his neck as Fenris stayed stock still save the rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed. For a moment, he and Hawke made eye contact before he was turned away again.
"You're a wonderful specimen, I will admit. I could see having you collared and chained, even without that lyrium." The mage's fingers slid down Fenris's throat, tightening around his neck like the aforementioned collar.
Hawke sucked in a breath. It was more of a growl. "Don't touch-"
The arrow surprised him. It came from over his shoulders and landed dead center in the mage's forehead. He didn't have time to look back before Fenris had rolled and sprung to his feet, fist sinking into the chest of one of the men that had been holding him. From there it was a barrage of spells, casting that Hawke recognized, and throwing knives and the clang of metal on armor.
"You all right down there, Hawke?" Aveline called, sword at the ready as she appeared on the rapports.
"Fine," he called back, breathing out shakily. He was about to ask someone to find the key for the inhibitors when Fenris crashed down to his knees next to him, nearly on top of him, muttering Tevene that Hawke couldn't understand. "Fen-"
"Are you alright?" Long fingers, still warm and still sticky and... shaking? cradled Hawke's face, avoiding the gash on his cheek. "Hawke." His voice was still all wrong, not monotone like it had gone moments before, but worry, genuine, and fear.
"I'm fine, Fenris-"
Fenris was already leaning away, scrabbling for fabric to rip free and press against the gash on Hawke's face.
"Ow-"
"Sorry."
"Fenris-"
"I'm fine," Fenris interrupted.
"I wasn't asking that," Hawke retorted. "Don't ever do that again."
"I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe."
"I don't want you to have to hurt yourself for me."
"I'm not hurt," Fenris repeated.
"That's not the point-"
"Nothing is worse than living without you," Fenris interrupted again. "I told you once. It is not going to change. It's... gotten worse, really." His fingers swept against his jawline, and he turned away. "I thought I was going to lose you. And I couldn't... I couldn't."
"You don't need-" Andraste's ass, he was still in those inhibitors. "Wait, I need the key to these."
"This key?" There was Isabela, leaning against the wall behind them, key in hand. "I was going to butt in, but you two were having such a moment." She grinned. "Everybody went on ahead to make sure the place gets cleared out. I think I'll just go catch up now."
Hawke sighed. "Thanks, 'bela."
Fenris was muttering under his breath as he took the key, but wasted no time in nudge Hawke forward so he could unlock the shackles.
And as soon as he could move, Hawke pulled Fenris against his chest and hugged him as tightly as he dared. He was still ready to let go, at that moment's notice, if Fenris needed space after the... non-consensual... touching from that mage. But while Fenris stiffened initially, it took only a moment for him to melt against him, even if his hands remained balled into fists at his side.
"You're not going to lose me, Fenris," Hawke muttered, tangling his fingers into Fenris's hair. "And I don't want you to lose yourself for me, either."
Fenris sighed against his neck, breath hot against his skin. "I am fine if you are."
"And I'm fine," Hawke said.
Fenris splayed his hands on Hawke's chest, pushing away slightly to look at him. "It's going to scar."
Hawke shrugged a little. "I don't mind. Scars are sex-" And here he was cut off as Fenris leaned over and kissed him full on the mouth, fingers sinking into his hair, a little desperate and a little wild and still a little terrified.
"Don't say you don't care," Fenris muttered.
"But scars are sexy," Hawke whispered against his lips.
Fenris rolled his eyes, leaning back. "We should meet up with the others."
"Yeah, definitely." He let Fenris help him back to his feet, and pretended that he wasn't wobbling a little as he did, still a little dizzy and more than a little light-headed. And he was about to play dumb to the fact that Fenris had grabbed ahold of his hand to steady him and still hadn't let go, but... he wasn't great at feigning ignorance, and Fenris wasn't big on public displays of affection. "Fenris? Are you holding my hand?"
"Yes."
So blunt. Hawke smiled tiredly. "Okay." He passed his thumb against the back of Fenris's hand.
Fenris squeezed back at Hawke's fingers slightly, and this time, Hawke didn't call him out on it.