So this is just a short piece from Fenris' POV following All That Remains, when he comes to speak to Hawke after her mother's death.
Of course everything belongs to Bioware and all the dialogue between Fenris and Hawke is pulled directly from one of the possible branches of dialogue in the game.
Words
Even as I left the decrepit old mansion I had been living in I was telling myself it was a mistake. It was not my place to go to her now; I gave up that right the night I left her bed. But it had been days since anyone had heard from her and I could not bear to keep away any longer, thinking of the pain she must be in. I had to do something, I had to try to-
What, offer her comfort? Promise her that everything would be alright, that, eventually, the hurt would stop? What did I know about acceptance?
No argument seemed sound enough to turn me back, not within sight of her door, not with something more foreign and primal urging me to be by her side.
I barely registered the quiet attempts of the Dwarven manservant to bar me. Humble words telling me that his mistress would see no one today.
"She will see me." The words came out in a deep growl that made him, finally, move out of my path.
The driving certainty abandoned me at the last moment and I stood outside her door for a time trying to find words that would be adequate for her loss. It was not just her mother; she would be thinking of her father, her brother, her sister. They were all gone now, and I knew she would be feeling their losses as well, and feeling that it was somehow all her fault.
All the words in all the books ever written would not be adequate.
I drew a deep breath, as if steeling myself for battle. This would be so much harder; I knew how to fight, I did not know what I would find on the other side of that door.
I did not know if I could be what she needed right now, but I would try.
She did not react as I entered the room and if she had been any other woman I would have believed her completely unaware of my presence. She sat silent and still, her bright eyes staring blankly into the flames of the hearth.
"I don't know what to say but I am here."
I waited for her to demand I leave, to tell me I had no business intruding on her grief like this. Instead she glanced up at me with a broken desperation in her eyes that I had never seen there before.
"Just say something, anything."
For a moment speech was the one thing I was incapable of. Haltingly as a schoolboy I attempted to string together some thought, anything, to do as she bid me, "They say, 'death is only a journey'. Does that help?"
She looked down at her hands in her lap, "It just raises questions. Journey to where?"
I moved cautiously to sit beside her, uncomfortably aware of the space I placed between us.
"I don't know. It's just something people say. To be honest, I don't think there is much point in filling these moments with empty talk." As I said this, a tension seemed to leave her.
Somehow, those words seemed to be good enough.