Mahanon Lavellan fumbles with the second button, frustration growing more and more. Somehow, by miracle, he managed to get the first button fastened. It seems that his luck have ran out, however, as the second one refuses to fasten. How was he supposed to do this with one hand, let alone with his non-dominant hand? After another failed attempt, he stepped back and sat on his bed. He rested his forehead in his hand, unsure if he wanted to scream in anger, or cry from frustration. There was a room full of people from all over of Thedas, waiting for him and what will be the results of the Inquisition. And here he was, in his room, unable to even button his shirt. His throat felt thick and his heart heavy with shame.
The door opens, hinges creaking. It seemed as if his heart dropped even further. The last thing he wanted was to have someone see him in this pathetic state. Maybe if he doesn't move, the person will get the hint and go away. The person didn't left.
"Inquisitor?"
Oh. It was Cassandra. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse. A shaky breath escaped from him. It seemed harder to keep in the tears of frustration when she was there. She walked over to where he was, and paused. Lavellan could feel her eyes on him, studying him. What was she thinking? Surely pitying his position right now.
Cassandra took his hand and moved it away from his face. Using the hand, she pulls him up so he's standing. Grey eyes glanced at his tired ones. She turned her attention to his half-buttoned shirt. It didn't took her long to figure out what was going on. Without a word she begins buttoning them. When she finished with the last one, she raises her hands and rests them on his chest.
"I feel useless," he whispered with a humourless laugh.
"You're not useless," she replies, looking up at him. Lavellan couldn't see any doubt in her eyes. He wants so much to believe her.
"Cass. I can't even button my shirt. I can't fight anymore. They want the inquisition to end. What else can I do?"
A moments hesitation. "It is not your hand that saved the world. And it is not your hand that I fell in love with. It was you. Repairing the world does not need two hand, sometimes." She wrapped her arms around him and pulled in to a hug. The Inquisitor rests his head on top of hers, wrapping his one arm around her. "Remember that I am by your side," she finished.
He breathed in deep, recognizing the smell of her soaps. In her arms he felt a surety. That everything will be okay. He couldn't do it alone, but he wasn't alone.
"Thank you, Cassandra."