Hawke sits on the bed pulling at threads on her skirt, staring at a smudge on the wall. Why are you here? You're such an annoying little smudge just sitting there…existing. While mother…
The first tear falls. Slowly running down her cheek. She takes a deep shuddering breath as more fall. She hears footsteps on the stairs and quickly wipes the tears away. She makes her face expressionless.
"Hawke, its Anders. Are you in your room?" Anders calls.
She clears her throat straining to keep her voice neutral. "Yes."
The door slowly opens and Anders enters. He shuts the door softly behind him and looks at Hawke.
She always seems to have exuberance radiating of off her. A smile for everyone her zeal infecting everyone around her. Even the normally dour Fenris seems to lighten up around her. She seems like a different person now. Sitting on the edge of the bed with her hands clasped. Elbows on her knees. Her body sagging. She looks over at him trying to keep her face blank, but he can see the grief in her eyes.
He rubs his hand on the back of his neck and clears his throat. "Look I don't really know what to say," Anders says.
"Maybe there's nothing really to say. Words can't make this go away." Hawke hugs her knees to her chest. Resting her chin on her knees, her long red curls hiding her face in shadows.
Anders walks over and sits on the bed next to Hawke and takes her hand.
"You're right but I can be here for you so you don't have to face this alone…that is if you want me here. I mean the one responsible for your mother's…," Anders trails off.
"Death," Hawke says bitterly, "You can say it you don't have to treat me like, wait what does Carver say…a delicate little mage flower."
"Ok. The one responsible for your mother's death was a mage like me…"
Hawke snaps her head around and glares at him. Her green eyes sparking with anger. Her pale cheeks flushed enhancing the light smattering of freckles. "You're worrying about me hating you? There was already a mage in this room before you got here. Me. I hate that man. I hate him for what he did to my mother, but I don't hate him because he was a mage. Being a mage didn't turn him into a raving lunatic. Mages don't always turn to blood magic and demons. He chose to do that." Hawke gets up and starts pacing the room. "If I decide to start hating mages I'd start with myself. It's my fault I didn't get there in time…I couldn't save her. Just like I couldn't save Bethany…Carver and Mother both blamed me for that. Now Mother's dead and there's only Carver left to blame me. At least he didn't have to see Mother like that. His last memories of her will be good. They'll be of her. My last are of a reincarnation of a lunatics dead wife that bore the face of my mother. Her stumbling towards me to say a goodbye. Worrying about me even as…"
She stops pacing and stands there looking lost. The strength that she normally carries herself with slowly fading away.
She looks down at her hands. "These hands are capable of so much. Magic, bloodshed, death…"
Anders crosses the room and takes her hands in his. "They're also capable of healing, protection, and love," he finishes kissing her palm.
She pulls away. Walking to stand in front of the fireplace. Watching the fire eat away at the logs.
She gives a morose sigh. "What's to stop me from becoming like him? A…violent product of brutal experiences. Today wasn't the first time I had the blood of someone I care about seep through my clothes. Feeling its warmth even as their body lost it. I doubt today will be the last. How much can a person take before losing their sanity? Before the horrors of the world eat away at them, detaching them. Eventually leaving nothing but a shell. A fragment of what they were before. See here I am philosophizing while I should be mourning my mother's death. What's wrong with me, Anders?"
Anders slowly walks up behind her and wraps his arms around her. Pulling back to lean against him. "Eva there's nothing wrong with you," he whispers.
"I must really be hopeless you never call me that unless..." She turns around and stands on her toes, brushing her lips against his. Pressing her body against his.
"I save it for the important moments," he murmurs against her lips.
He briefly returns the kiss before sighing and pulling away from her. "Stop Eva." He puts his hands on her shoulders. "Eva there's nothing wrong with you. It's how you grieve. You distract yourself so you can be strong. You were always the strong one for your family. You've always had people looking to you. So you put on a brave face for them. You've always protected people…" he trails off seeing her distraught expression.
"Well I've been doing a terrible job haven't I? I lost my mother and my sister. My brother joined the Templars and here I am…" She breaks off with a gasp. She looks away biting her trembling lip. She tries to pull away from Anders, but he won't let her.
"You don't have to be strong now. Let it out."
"I don't know how to do that. I'm always the one being…stoic. You have to if you're the one always doing the comforting," she says with a teary laugh.
He starts to pull her towards him. At first she resists but then allows herself to be pulled into Anders embrace. Her head laying against his shoulder the feathers tickling her cheek, looking at her hands curled against his chest.
"Eva when did you grieve?"
She pauses a moment gathering her thoughts. "I saw death growing up, but we had to move so often. What with having three apostates in the family. So the first death that really struck me was Father's. He always said I was strong and stubborn like him. I was the oldest and he wanted me to take care of the family. Mother had a hard enough time with it. So I kept it all in so I could console Bethany and Carver. I waited until I was alone. It just didn't seem right to make things worse for them…"
"There's no one here but me Eva. Let me be the strong one for you."
Anders tightens his hold on her and kisses the top of her head. As the first sob hits her she grabs onto his robes. Her fingers digging into the material trying to keep some hold on herself. Fighting against what she had always done. Keeping it all together until she was alone, so no one would see her break.
Maybe Anders is right. She turns her head to look at him through teary eyes, his face reassuring and comforting. I love him. He's one of the few people left that I trust. He makes me feel safe. Perhaps it will be ok. Maybe I can…
As she starts to give into her grief she feels her legs begin to go weak almost falling if it weren't for Anders hold on her. He swings her up into her arms and carries her over to the bed. He sits down and with her in his lap. She sobs and tightens her arms around him.
"Please…don't leave. I just…can't…"
He tightens his arms, resting his cheek against her hair. "Shhh love. I'll be right here," he whispers.