Hawke had never wanted power. She'd never wanted titles.

Coin was good, but coin wasn't nearly as important as family and if t wasn't for her family, for the blame put upon her shoulders, she would have been content to wander copperless for the rest of her days.

She did it for her family.

Everything.

The mercenary work – that was for Carver.

The Deep Roads – that was to get Mother her status back.

The manor – it was for whatever was left; a place to hide away to do all those things they used to do when they were family back in Lothering.

But coming to Kirkwall had ruined everything and things were forced upon Hawke that she could not say no to because though she didn't want power or titles, she needed it to survive in a world gone mad. In a world where she needed to protect what she had – for her family.

Now, though, it was all pointless. She laughed at the irony of it all, staring at the mirror in her room at a reflection that wasn't her, moments ticking by that meant nothing, but meant everything and a chest that held everything, but held nothing.

Kirkwall was crumbling.

She needed to go. Where? She didn't know. Didn't care. She'd long since stopped caring because there was nothing that held her here anymore. All that did were those stupid titles and responsibilities she didn't care to have, but even now those meant nothing, because that's what caused all of this.

Her fist hit that mirror and it shattered.

Glass shards riddled her hand and she knew it was a bad idea, but she didn't care because the pain shook away the numbness of it all.

"...Hawke."

"Give me a moment."

Fenris was at her side, quick and silent. She didn't dare look him in those eyes of his; didn't dare to see what she was to him anymore. She crumbled like Kirkwall; everything happened too fast and too much and what was she to do?

She was running because that's all that was left.

Jerked to her senses, the elf took her hand carefully in his and said nothing still as he piece by piece removed the tiny little shards. He was careful and she stared because how could he handle this so well? How could he not blame her?

"...you were right." Her voice was strained, not her voice, but it was.

Fenris spared her a moment's glance.

"About what?"

"...magic." It was an admission that troubled her to her very core; she had stood so faithful in her beliefs, but now they were shattered.

Everything was too much. Magic had ruined everything. She'd seen it. How long until she herself ruined everything? Or was this all because she was a mage? Was it all doomed because of her involvement?

She choked on sudden sobs, everything crashing and burning and crumbling and –

"I let it...I let it. How foolish am I? I fought and I fought and I tried – "

Fenris said nothing and to Hawke, that was enough. Why would he say anything otherwise? He'd known. He'd seen it firsthand, long before she had. What magic could do. How this would end up. She should have done something. She shouldn't have been so naive.

"Anders used me."

"You didn't kill him." Fenris' voice was strained too.

"...I'm still naive. I still hope..."

"I know."

He didn't hate her for this; otherwise he never would have opted to stay at her side. He took his time to bandage her hand.

"We need to go." He said.

"I know." A pause.

"Let's go to Fereldan."

"Yes."