The first time Fenris suspected something was wrong was when Bodahn sent him to the late Leandra's room to 'check on the mistress'. Something about the way the dwarf's hands shook while he said it, and the slight waver in his voice sent immediate alarm bells ringing in Fenris' head.
He did not know what to expect, and so he hovered in the doorway, peering into the darkness.
"...Hawke?"
No answer came, but something stirred in the shadowy recesses of the room. He stepped in and groped along the wall until he came to a shutter and cracked it slightly, letting in a narrow shaft of morning light. From a bundle of blankets on the bed, a hiss came, and it sounded so much like that of the hellcats which roamed Seheron's jungles, that Fenris flinched and left the shutter to snap closed. It bounced back open against the frame.
In the faint light, he could see Hawke in the middle of the bed, in the middle of a bizarre nest constructed of blankets and what appeared to be Leandra's dresses.
"Hawke?" Fenris said again, stepping closer to the bed.
The woman's head poked out, dark hair tousled and obscuring her face.
"I thought her smell would linger," Hawke's faint voice came, "but it's going, now, hurrying to its owner like belated pieces of her soul."
Fenris sat down gingerly on the mattress.
"Were you here all night?" he asked, feeling apprehension grip his chest.
Nobody had seen Hawke for weeks, ever since her mother had died. They'd made efforts, of course, but she simply hadn't wanted to see anyone and had had Bodahn send visitors away. They'd quietly come to the decision that Hawke needed space for now and she would come to them in due time.
Here and now, Fenris could see that decision had been a mistake. And the largest portion of that blame fell to him, because he, above all the rest, should have persisted and should have been here to comfort her. He should have seen this on the first night, when he came to her to see that she was well, but he'd let his own awkwardness make the decision for him.
She raised her head to look at him. Her eyes were sunken into her head, and she looked paler and thinner than last he'd seen her.
But the look in her eyes was most disturbing, like she was looking straight through him and into another world.
"I can see them better in the dark," she replied, licking her chapped lips. "Like so many dead fireflies, I can see the possibilities clearer when they're swarming around me."
"Hawke, look at me," Fenris said, touching the side of her face carefully, so his gauntlet wouldn't hurt her.
Recognition sparked in her eyes, and her gaze focused on him.
"Fenris?" she whispered, as if just now realizing he was there.
"You need to eat," Fenris said gently.
"Oh... I... I'll have Bodahn see about dinner. Are you staying?"
"Hawke, it's morning," Fenris said.
Hawke looked at the window, surprised by this information.
"Well, breakfast then," she shrugged. "Are you staying?"
"Of course," he promised. "I won't leave you."
Hawke smiled at him—a wane, sickly smile, but the first he'd seen from her in weeks. He was grateful for it.
Fenris found himself spending more and more time around the Amell Estate.
Hawke had good days and bad days. On good days, she was mostly there, smiling and talking like before, and even if she sometimes stared off into space or muttered to herself, he could make allowances for that. She was a woman with a lot on her mind.
On bad days...
She would spend hours holed up in her mother's room, rearranging Leandra's possessions with obsessive care, counting her perfumes, or folding her clothing in neat piles, or taking out her books and spreading them across the floor in patterns that made sense only to her. Or else she'd curl up on the bed, eyes closed and completely unresponsive to the world, her lips forming inaudible words. Or else she'd pace the room from one end to the other, touching each wall and talking lyrical nonsense.
Fenris managed to coax her back into her old routine, yet even though she was most like her old self when she was out in the world, killing bandits and slavers, it was inevitable that people would start noticing eventually.
Aveline was the first, and she pulled Fenris aside one day to ask if Hawke was alright.
"She's doing better," Fenris replied gruffly.
"Better than what?" Aveline asked with raised eyebrows. "Fenris, she wasn't making any sense."
"She's still distraught by her mother's death," Fenris said.
Aveline was quiet for a few long moments, her lips pressed into a line.
"It's been months," she said, her voice low and concerned.
"I know."
After that, Anders started throwing Hawke concerned looks, but Varric was the next to say anything.
"Maybe fearless leader needs a break," the dwarf suggested in a calculated-casual manner over a game of cards.
Since Fenris had stopped going to the Hanged Man, the game was taking place in the Amell Estate's kitchens, long after everyone had gone to bed.
"True," Isabela jumped in. "Maybe she needs to spend a few days seaside. No better cure than the fresh, salty air, you know."
"I was thinking of a quiet place in the countryside, actually," Varric said, throwing down another card, "but whatever works."
Fenris gripped the cards so hard that the tips of his gauntlets ripped through them. A 'quiet place in the countryside', like the sanatorium where Varric's brother was languishing. The thought of Hawke in such a place sent a spike of anger through him, and his markings glowed briefly.
Varric and Isabela fell silent.
"She's doing well, considering," Fenris said, repeating the lie he'd told himself many times already.
"She's really not," Isabela sighed, her expression grim. "You can't honestly say she is, Fenris. Last week, after we killed those bandits, she spent ten minutes poking one of them with the pointy end of her staff because she thought he was 'only pretending'. He had no head, Fenris! That's one bloody good actor, I have to say!"
Fenris cringed. He knew. He'd been there, and he'd been the one to pull Hawke away and talk her down. And even then, she'd spent most of the way back to Kirkwall looking over her shoulders, as if convinced the headless corpse would up and follow them.
"She just needs time," Fenris insisted.
"Are you sure?" Varric asked, stern-faced. "Because if you're wrong, time will be working against her."
"I'm sure," Fenris lied. "She'll get better."
Later, after Varric and Isabela left, he found Hawke in front of the door to Leandra's room with a lamp next to her.
"Fenris, come here," she whispered, curled up on the floor. He kneeled next to her. "I can't go in, the moths will try to steal my eyes."
Fenris swallowed the knot in his throat.
"Hawke, let's get you to bed," he said, grabbing her gently and pulling her to her feet.
"But the moths-"
"They can't get you in your room, Hawke."
"Don't lie to me," Hawke hissed, pulling away from him. "I'm not mad! I can tell!"
"I know," Fenris whispered, hanging his head. "I know. You're just... very sad."
Hawke blinked at him, then looked around her uncertain.
"Fenris," she approached him and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to make things hard for you."
He stood impassively at first, but sighed and grabbed her around the shoulders, sinking his face into her hair.
"I will never leave you again," he said.
"I know. I'll always know that, even when I..." She hugged him tighter. "What about you? Are you alright?"
Fenris chuckled humorlessly.
"You're asking about me?" he said, incredulous.
She pulled back only slightly to look up at her, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Let me take care of you for awhile," she said, and leaned forward to kiss him.
Fenris stiffened at first, but didn't resist. He knew he probably should, but he couldn't, not when Hawke was there, all of her, present in the moment as she hadn't been in a long time.
He woke in the middle of the night to find himself alone in bed.
Following a horrible suspicion, he went to Leandra's room. Crumpled on the floor next to the bed, naked but for the covers she'd pulled over herself, Hawke was muttering to herself.
"You can't go in without a ticket, but if you wait until the show starts, you'll be late."
He sat down next to her and gathered her in his arms.
"It's how they get you. They wait outside and snatch you up if you're too early," she continued, sounding perfectly confident that what she was saying made perfect sense.
"Hawke, I need you to get better," Fenris whispered in the darkness.
There was a long pause.
"You promised," she said.
Fenris inhaled sharply. He'd promised to never leave, that was true.
"And I'll keep that promise," he said.
"Good. The trickster waits to eat your heart, down in the shadows. The robins all turned to handfuls of apple blossoms and scattered when the winds picked up. But that's alright, isn't it?"
"Yes," he said numbly, arms tightening around her. "That's alright."