Author's Note: So there are a few things you should know about this piece. First, Fenris (in my opinion) is way OOC. Second, I usually don't write things like this so it's a little experiment. Re-reading what I wrote, it seems a little overdone and whatnot, but I felt it carried emotion when I wrote it. Hopefully that carried over. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome. If you want to listen to music, I wrote this while listening to Heavy in Your Arms by Florence + The Machine. Enjoy!
Hawke sat on her bed, her black hair dishelved and her green eyes staring blankly into oblivion. She didn't turn her head as she felt something sit next to her.
She knew who it was when she heard no chainmail or footsteps. She knew who it was before she caught sight of the white hair. She knew that he would quietly wait and listen to whatever she had to say.
"I can't do this," she frankly stated.
Fenris grabbed her hand and ran his gauntleted thumb over her palm. "Of course you can," he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the marks in her hand where her nails drew blood.
Hawke shook her head. "I can't."
"You can," Fenris said before pressing his lips to her wounds.
The emotions were too much for Hawke to handle.
"I couldn't even save my family," she said, choking on her words as sobs threatened to tear out of her throat.
"Carver died before we even arrived at Gwaren. Bethany corrupted by the taint. My mother-," she stopped a moment. "My mother!" Hawke cried, drawing her hand away from Fenris and burying her face into her scarred hands. Fenris sat still, knowing Hawke needed space.
Hawke abruptly pulled away, staring at her hands with fear and disgust. She could feel the cold steel of Carver's armor, the warm blood that spilled over Hawke's dagger as she killed her sister, the skin of a foreign person as she held her mother's dying frame before she was left with nothing. Hands that had killed so many people, robbing families of fathers, brothers, sons, and husbands.
The thought of this disgusted her; her hands had done all of these acts and her heart felt the guilt. If only her hands had plunged a knife into her own chest.
Hawke was jolted back to reality as Fenris reclaimed her hand. He studied it a moment before speaking.
"This hand has scars on it. Scars inflicted by its owner. But why? This hand has spared money to the poor and this one," he said, grabbing her other hand,"has saved the lives of many innocents. These hands have worth. They deserve to feel clean, even if the scars may hide their beauty. These hands are worth something. Never doubt that." Fenris kissed Hawke's forehead and released her hands. "Never."
He stood and left, heading to the library to allow Hawke a moment to herself.
Hawke just sat and stared at her hands. Tears slid down her face, but she never took her eyes off of her hands.
'These hands are worth something.'
Hawke stood up with a hardened heart and a determined spirit.
These hands would falter no more.