Hawke's hand felt a rush of warmth as blood poured over it. She had aimed her knife well. It would be over as quickly and as painlessly as she could manage. It was hard, so hard. His small gasp of pain made it so much worse. But what Anders had done was unforgivable. The Chantry lay in ruins. The Revered Mother dead along with any hope of peace. Screams of terror filled the smoke heavy air.
The feathers of his pauldrons were sticky and damp with blood when she reached out to touch him one last time. Tears stung her eyes as Varric carefully pulled her away.
She had shared everything with him. She had given him everything. Done everything she could just for him.
She loved him and he had never even told her his real name.