She ran fingers through her raven-black hair. The world suddenly seemed falling apart – crushing on her.
She walked to her bed to sit down and clear her mind, but her vision was blinded by anger and sadness, and then she crumbled on the floor.
She sensed tears in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall to her face. She had to endure this, for the sake of everyone.
For every mage, for every damn templar who thought that he could turn the Gifted into slaves. For every templar who deserved death, a long and painful one – Hawke could think of a dozen deaths like that, only by thinking of Bethany.
And, on other hand, it was a mage who killed her mother. A maleficar. A blood mage.
Anger washed over her face. She crashed her head hard on the wall. She screamed. She yelled. Her fist found the nightstand and pounded loudly. The pain quickly crawled up from her hand to her arm, but there was no reason for tears. She was strong. She was a warrior. A hero.
"Much of a hero I am", she thought as her vision became red. Blood-red. She realized that there was an open wound now on her forehead, and that her fist got purple marks. Blood ran down her cheeks, and she swore her whole life. Even the Maker.
What God is He? And Andraste, the first mage ever? Then She should come here, let the mages free and bring justice instead of Hawke.
There was a drawing of Andraste on a wall behind Hawke, and she instantly brought it down with her, crashed and ripped it apart, smashed the frame against the nightstand, trying to release her rage.
She stopped, and realized who was really on the picture. It was not Andraste, nor any other holy woman. It was her mother. Her mother while she was young, her face like one of an angel.
Hawke gasped.
"It's over now, you've already ruined everything!" she yelled at herself, her voice echoing in her room, threating to crash the window glass.
She screw her whole life. She lost her family. First Carver, then they took Bethany away, and now her mother died as a raised abomination in a maleficar's hands.
There was no hope. There was no love. No light. Only duty, and death.
She was no hero. How will she bring justice if she can't recognize it in her own actions?
Everything was so dark. The wound on her forehead bled even more . Alas, there was still no tears falling, only blood dripping wildly.
The world seemed to crumble again, and she came with it.
She inhaled, and realized that she couldn't. Grief was the only thing filling her lungs. She gasped, trying again, only to release and agonized squeal. Air seemed to avoid her.
She saw her mother in her thoughts. She could see Carver… Bethany. They were choking her, their hands cold as ice, strangling her with a dragon's force.
She could not breathe… could not live.
Her head fell to the floor, eyes closing, mouth not trying anymore.
There was nothing else to live for.
And when her body started to drift towards a deadly sleep… He came, running towards her.
"Hawke!"
He knelt beside her, and pulled her to him. She didn't resist, but did not cooperate. She was limp as he picked her up from the floor and carried her to the bed, his strong hands surounding her.
"Anders…" she wispered. He covered her with blankets and then kissed her forehead, just above the wound.
Anders whispered back to her with words of comfort before he put his hand on the bloody gush. She instantly felt a soothing warmth crawl through her body. The wound slowly began to close, and Anders was already healing her fist.
Hawke tried to breathe again, and he heard her dry gasp. She trembled, her face red from blood and oxygen loss. Her body shaked wildy as Anders tried to help her.
"Hawke… I-I… I don't know what to do!" He whispered, more to himself than to her.
He told her the truth, he could deal with life-taking injuries, but these problems weren't his call. But Maker smite him down if he wasn't a determined man.
Hawke's body suddenly went still , and her eyes closed. Seeing her disappearing irises of beautiful ice, Anders pulled all his power to his palms and Justice seemed to bring his deal in.
His hands were a cradle of the blue light. He moved his palms to her heart and all power went in Hawke. His veins turned blue, and his caramel eyes shifted to ice, nearly as Hawke's. The room was like shaking, and a wind started to blow all papers around them.
Hawke's eyes opened and she raised quickly. He took her in an warm embrace, feeling tired himself. She hid her head in his neck and he felt tears falling from her eyes.
"Oh, Maker… Hawke… I nearly lost you. I couldn't imagine living without you. It would kill me!"
"Anders, sorry… I don't know what happened." She sobbed.
"It's all right, you are here now, and you're good. So, no tears." He caressed her cheek as he pulled away for an inch from her to see her face.
She was pale, and her eyes were red from tears. His hand reached her face to dry away the tears.
"I love you, Hawke. And I'm so sorry about what happened… But want you to know that I am always here for you, if you need me."
He kissed her forehead again, and she shed her tears even more, now knowing that he was the person for whom she will always take a new breath, her string pulling her to life.
Her light in dark.
This is my first fanfiction, though it was written a long time ago. I apologize for any mistakes, as English is not my first language. Also, I want to add that I lost the story a little bit when Anders came.. but... I like Anders too much to concentrate on the real plot! Anyway, thank you for reading, and I hope that you liked it :)