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"What has magic touched that it doesn’t spoil?"
Hawke immediately freezes, her hands clenching into tight fists around her staff, watching as Fenris stalks closer towards Hadriana, mouth curled in a snarl as he watches his prey cower on the floor before him.
She can feel Varric’s eyes boring into her back, drilling holes of pity and concern, holes she doesn’t want nor need. She’s never needed anyone’s pity or concern when it comes to her powers, nor to idiotic things that men have said without thinking - both are far to common to worry about.
She tunes out Hadriana’s begging, no matter how much she loathes murder, she can condone it when it comes to Fenris and his past. She’s tried to ignore it for three years now but she can’t deny she’s attached to him, more so than she’s ever felt for another person, no matter what she knows she has to stand by him.
So she lets him say his piece, let’s him revel in the knowledge that the woman,who had tortured him for so many years, is at his mercy. So when his tattooed arms gracefully arc and tighten to pull his greatsword high above his head, she doesn’t even hesitate to nod imperceptibly when he turns his head back to seek her approval.
She doesn’t even wince when the sword cuts down on Hadriana’s small body, nor when the blood spatters across her leather covered legs.
She knows Fenris has peace for a small time, and that helps her anger soothe a little. But she still feels burning rage and rejection at his comment to Hadriana.
"What has magic touched that it hasn’t spoiled." Had Fenris forgotten what she was? Or had he been pretending the entire time their ‘relationship’ had been developing? Perhaps he had been pretending that those spells coming from her hands were deadly arrows, or perhaps forgot about her role in their party altogether in order to quell his guilt conscience?
Either way as soon as he turns Hawke cannot help but grimace and turn away, striding out the door and towards the coast again.
She can hear his footsteps behind her, feel Varric’s cool eyes looking sideways at her from her left, as well as Aveline’s worried glances from her right, but she lets it all roll off her, she is stuck on those words, those horrible words that seemed to have swallowed any happiness that came from her interactions with Fenris to date.
"What has magic touched that it hasn’t spoiled?" Her mind screams. "How about me!" She screams back in her head, trying to stop the slight quivering of her bottom lip.
She recalls their interactions in his Hightown mansion, the light and affection in his eyes when he laughs softly, and smiles that special half grin he has only for her.
Another lance to her heart, her eyes fill slightly with moisture but she wipes it away quickly. She is desperate to reach the outside, to feel fresh air on her cheeks, and push away the tight clenching of her heart that comes with the narrow corridors and those omnipresent words hovering in her mind.
She feels Varric’s hand press slightly onto her arm as they burst out into sunlight, watching as she takes a huge gasp of air before letting her go.
She takes huge strides down the hill, towards the water and the cool air that brushes her white hair back off her cheeks. Her heart stops hammering in her chest, the sweat on her forehead cools and her tremoring hands come to a halt.
But those horrible words and those doubts still hover like the stench of death in the air.
Hawke bends down to pull her boots off, rolling her feet gratefully in the sand before she takes a few hurried steps towards the frigid waters, hoping that the temperature of the ocean will help battle away the words in her mind.
She takes a small breath as the water washes over her feet, pulling away the ache that always seems to linger now, three years worth of battles and wounds seeming to sink away into the cerulean depths beneath her.
It’s the small cough from behind her that pulls her from her revelry. She looks over her shoulder slightly, heart sinking when she realises that the elf who had spoken the words that plagued her mind was standing right behind her.
"I never took you for an ocean lover Hawke" he says, his lip quirking up slightly as he speaks. She smiles, breathing out a small laugh as she turns back towards the horizon.
"I didn’t live near the cost in Ferelden." She says wistfully, remembering their small farm and her fathers warm smile. "The first time I’d ever seen it was from the side of the boat we were on when we arrived in Kirkwall"
She tries to ignore his body heat as he steps into the water next to her, their arms separated by nothing but a breath of air.
"I spent many of my evenings watching the tide run out" he says, his voice turning wistful like hers had. "It was one of the only peaceful moments I had serving under Danarius."
His voice turns hard at the mention of his former master, as it always does. She can’t help but flinch at his tone, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
Hawke wants desperately to say something about his words to Hadriana, but she can’t bring her lips to form the words she wishes to speak.
Instead she asks him about the ocean near Tevinter. He spends the next few minutes telling her about the way the sunset would burst off the sea, fracturing across the dark spires of Tevinter.
Hawke is enraptured by his voice once again, his voice is always so smooth, washing over her body so easily.
She almost forgets his words, but then they come rushing back to her, slamming into her with all the force of one of her fireballs.
"Fenris." She whispers when he has quietened. She notices he turns his head towards her curiously at her tone, his dark brows furrowing over the jade eyes she has become so attached to over the years, she always marvelled at how his eyes seemed to match that of the fields of Lothering in spring.
"What you said to Hadriana before…" She pauses, crossing her arms over her chest to conceal her shaking fingers. He stiffens almost immediately, recognising the hurt and pain in her tone.
"Hawke-" he starts, but she cuts him off straight away, snapping with a ferocity she didn’t think she owned.
"Don’t. I don’t want to hear some bullshit excuse." She spits, ignoring his wince at her tone. "Was everything between us just a lie?"
She finally gets out the burning question that has been smouldering in her chest for so long now. “Or were you pretending that I was something else? That I’m not a Mage?”
His breathing heightens before stopping short. She feels ashamed almost immediately, her eyes turning towards her disjointed feet in the water, watching the way the last rays of sunlight bounce between her toes.
When he doesn’t say anything for several agonising minutes, she speaks up again.
"What has magic touched that is doesn’t spoil?" She repeats, her words come out as a thick sigh, her lilting speech almost turning the words into a song, something beautiful instead of something that had wounded her to her very core.
He tries to speak again but she continues as if he hadn’t tried to say anything. “My father wasn’t spoilt, he was a perfect man, incredibly patient and kind. He loved my mother like no man I’d ever seen, he devoted every second to us and to her.” She takes in a deep shuddering breath, her arms tightening around her chest.
"My sister wasn’t spoilt either." She whispers, lip quivering at the memory of her bones crushing like a biscuit in that ogres hand. "I remember when she and Carver were born, she was such a small little thing, but she always smiled, she lived life like nothing could ever hurt her, took everything in her stride… She was so strong, no matter what life threw at her she always bounced back."
A tear slides down her cheek but she doesn’t move to wipe it away, merely feeling the salt water trail through the blood spatters on her cheek, carving a sorrowful path down her neck before disappearing into her tunic.
"Is that what you think of me Fenris?" She asks, turning to him finally with tears in her eyes. "Do you think that I’m spoilt because of something I can’t control?"
He still isn’t looking at her, his hands are clenched into tight fists, glaring out at the ocean as his teeth grind into one another.
She stands for several minutes, imploring her to say something. When he doesn’t, she lets out a scoff of disgust, turning away and grabbing her boots in silent rage, before stomping up the beach.
She stops before her feet hit the winding path up to Kirkwall.
"Whatever image of me you’ve got in that idiotic head of yours Fenris, get rid of it." She calls to his taught back. "I am a Mage, my father was a Mage and my sister was a Mage. I and they were not spoilt, not because of who they were and certainly not for a gift they were born with."
Her words slice through the air, and she feels as if a weight has been lifted from her shoulders, she no longer feels any hurt.
If he cannot accept what she is then she would be comfortable enough in herself to walk away.
When she does, she doesn’t see the sorrow filled sigh that rushes out of Fenris’ trembling lips, nor the longing glance he casts at her back, watching as she trudges back up the hill with determination set in her shoulders.