Fenris
In all the years he had known Hawke he had never seen her cry. He found he was quite unprepared for this development.
He had been prepared to fend off a physical an attack from her, a verbal tirade or some sort of hissy fit, like he had imagined she might throw once she saw him following her. Any of that he was prepared for, but not tears. Never tears.
Immediately he was overwhelmed with the instinctual empathy and dismay any man feels when confronted by a woman's tears. He felt a powerful urge to embrace her, to comfort her. However, he held back. He understood it was not his place...he knew had walked away from that privilege long ago.
So he did the only thing he could think to do. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder and hoped there was something he could kill to solve this.
Hawke felt his awkward touch and took her hands away from her face. She did not look pretty when she cried, he noticed, but it didn't stop his heart from wrenching to see her like this. His feelings must have shown on his face because she turned away from him, but no nearer to the door to her manse.
"How can I fix this? How can I make it stop, Hawke?" he asked after what felt like an unbearable eternity, just listening to her cry and struggle for composure."Please say I can stab someone and make it better" he thought.
She wiped her tears with the backs of her hands and took a deep breath. However that was clearly not enough, because a great wracking sob stopped whatever words she was about to say. It was a few excruciating minutes before she attempted to speak again.
"It's empty." She said ever so softly. "The house is empty. Everyone is gone." With those words she dissolved into sobs again.
"Wait, what happened to Bodhan and Sandal? Orana? Have they gone?" he asked, dumbstruck. "Why would all the servants have fled? Has something happened? How did I not know?"
"Not them." She gasped. "Father, Carver, mother, Bethany...they...they should be here" she said in a choked voice.
Still struggling to comprehend the depth of the emotional turmoil he was being thrust into, he quickly realized he had nothing to say about the matter, however the situation required immediate attention. So, like he had only done very few times in his life, he went with his impulse. He took her hand and said, "Come with me."
For a moment he was unsure of how Hawke would react: punch him, spit on him, maybe storm away, but she stared into his eyes for what felt like an ungodly long time and hesitantly nodded her consent. He chose to ignore his own rising trepidation and led the way to his mansion.
The short walk from the Amell estate to his own went by in a blur. He wasn't sure what would happen afterwards, but Hawke needed someone and he would not be found lacking this time. "I will not run away again. Never again"
She hesitated briefly at the door, but she gave him a glance and stepped through after him. For the first time since claiming the house, he felt embarrassed at the state of the place. But there was nothing to be done about it now. He kept his head down and led her upstairs, past the magically preserved corpses and torn paintings, to the great room with the fireplace that was his de-facto living space. Once past the entrance he let her hand go to stoke the fire he had banked while he was away.
When he turned back to his guest, he found her just as he had left her, looking forlorn in the middle of the room. For a moment she seemed very small. It bothered him to see her like this. Hawke normally had a presence that would fill a room, steal all the air and fill everyone's eyes. "Even when she fought the Arishok, she had not looked this small".
"Please, make yourself comfortable" He said gesturing at his remaining furniture. "Perhaps I should start using actual firewood and not just whatever's in the house" he thought briefly, chagrined to see all there was in the room were two uncomfortable chairs and his smallish bed.
Hawke looked around and gingerly sat on the edge of his bed, which was closest, her face showing her uncertainty at this development. "I'm pretty sure getting in my bed was not part of the plan for the evening."
Looking about the cluttered table he used as his catchall, he saw a fairly clean goblet and a pitcher of fresh water he had filled just this morning. Giving the goblet a quick rinse, he filled it with water and took it to Hawke.
"Drink it. You'll be glad you did in the morning," He said as he handed it to her.
Numbly she accepted the drink and gulped down the water. He filled it twice more before she shook her head, giving the goblet back. Her eyes, while puffy from crying were at half-mast. More than sad, she looked exhausted. As someone for whom all emotions were draining, he knew just how she felt.
Without a word, he reached behind her and grasped his wadded-up blanket. He shook it out and carefully wrapped it around her shoulders. He sat on the bed next to her, just as he had the night Leandra had been killed. Hawke gave him a puzzled look.
He suspected it was his turn to open up, so he decided to jump right in. "I understand loneliness Hawke. You must know I do. But you are not alone. You will never be alone if I can help it."
Hawke forced a pained smile and fumbled under the blanket to reach for his hand. Her hand felt cold and clammy. The smile faded quickly and she hung her head.
"I was supposed to take care of them. I promised. I promised and I have failed miserably. " She muttered softly.
"Who did you promise?"
"My father, on his death bed. He asked me to look out for them, that I was his-" But the words died in her throat and a sob gasped out in their place. Her eyes gleamed with tears, but none would fall.
"Cried out" he thought, not without some relief.
"Hawke, would your mother and sister made it out of Lotherin without you?" he asked quietly.
"Maybe? I don't know. Maybe not, not if it was just the two of them." she admitted. "But Carver..."
"Carver died a hero, protecting your family, as you would have in his place. Am I correct?" Fenris insisted.
"But he died instead! And then I wasn't even around when Bethany was taken away to the Gallows. I was lost in the Deep Roads, like some stupid nug" She protested, unwilling to be comforted.
"And why were we in the Deep Roads, Hawke? For what reason did we go there?" he asked, pushing the issue. He felt his heart ache hearing her recriminate herself for all the sacrifices she had made for her family.
"Ugh, you know why. The estate. Mother and Bethany deserved to live there, not in Gamlen's disgusting hovel." she said with the repugnant tone she reserved for her ne'er-do-well uncle. "Yes, I know. I needed the money from the expedition to buy back the estate he lost." she said flatly.
He gripped her hand and said nothing. He had been entombed in the Deep Roads that week with her, Varric, and Anders and knew exactly how harrowing the experience had been for all of them. They had barely known each other then, but her jokes and good spirits had kept him sane under all that rock.
"I should have asked more about mother's 'suitor'. If I'd paid more attention, she would be alive. We could have caught Quentin, why didn't I…"
But before Hawke could continue her self-recriminations, a huge yawn escaped her, silencing her.
Wordlessly, Fenris eased her into a recumbent position. She gave him a bewildered glance, but didn't resist. The fight had gone out of her.
Once lying down, she struggled to open her eyes a few times, and seemed like she would say something else, but finally exhaustion and alcohol had bested her. As he carefully removed himself from the bed, he saw her give one last sigh and keep still, overcome by sleep.
He walked slowly to the fireplace while he tried to put his own thoughts into order as he tended the fire. For a time he gazed at the flames until he felt his chest-plate heating up from his nearness to the flame.
Fenris turned around and stared at Hawke, asleep on his bed, her face still troubled. He hoped that sleep would erase much of the evening from her memory.
While he felt the urge to do something, he felt entirely out of his depth with the situation. Emotional issues were not his forte by any stretch of the imagination.
"So let's just take touching words of wisdom out of the running. That's not going to happen." Which left actions. He was definitely more a man of action.
He considered the options available and came up with what felt like a good solution.
Pausing only to make sure Hawke was well asleep and reasonably comfortable, he quietly made his way out into the night.
