Written for the weekly prompt fest over at dragon_age. Response to the prompt: Mother's wedding dress
Aveline brushed her fingers over the delicate lace collar, barely touching it as though afraid it would crumble under her clumsy ministrations. The collar was as lovely as the rest of the dress: simple, sophisticated, and perfectly flawed in the way of handmade garments. The dress was white, once, but time had stained it an off-white yellow that somehow made the garment seem dignified rather than old. Looking at it spread reverently over Hawke's bed, Aveline could imagine a woman like Leandra Amell wearing such a dress on her wedding day.
"Hawke, I can't take this," she said, turning away, because she couldn't.
"I want you to. Motherwould want you to. She talked about it," Hawke pressed when Aveline started to interrupt. "She was so excited about you and Donnic. One of her children was finally getting married, that's what she said."
"Alexander…" Aveline looked at Hawke. His expression was open, hopeful, and heartbroken. He looked away first and fingered the sleeve of Leandra's wedding gown.
"It's a fine dress, Aveline. It deserves to be worn by a fine woman."
Hawke, lost in thought, startled when Aveline placed a hand on his back. She slid her arm over his shoulders, and he leaned easily into the embrace. With her other hand Aveline stroked the sleeve. The fabric was soft and worn beneath her fingertips. She struggled to see herself wearing it.
"I'm honored," she said softly. "I would be honored."