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Their bodies were poetry in motion - moving, undulating, writhing against each other. Their lusty moans were punctuated by eager exclamations of pleasure and hushed whispers of encouragement.
It was the most arousing and heart-rendering thing that Hawke had ever seen.
When she had heard the tell-tale sounds, Hawke knew she should have turned around and walked away. But no, she had to look; had to peek through the gap in the study door and watch Fenris bent over Isabela as he made love to her.
Hawke watched as Fenris' strong, graceful hands moved to caress Isabela before gently drawing her towards him for a lingering, fervent kiss. And when Hawke saw the tender look of affection Fenris bestowed upon his lover, she could feel the shattering of her heart reverberate in the hollowed cavern of her breast. Eyes prickling with tears, she fled his mansion.
It should have been her, Hawke thought bitterly. She wanted it to be her; she wanted him so badly, it ached. She had dreamt for years to be cradled in Fenris' arms, to hear him whisper sweet nothings to her, to feel the warmth of his touch and the taste the nectar of his lips.
But it was all just wishful thinking on Hawke's part; a childish hope that Fenris could look past her magic and see her for who she was. That hope was all in vain - Fenris had made it very clear how he felt about mages. She never stood a chance. Even if she weren't a mage, she had nothing that could compete with Isabela.
Isabela was gorgeous, luscious even, worldly and so very charming. Hawke had always felt like an awkward teenager next to her. It was no surprise that Fenris had chosen Isabela.
Hawke laughed at herself, Maker, she would've chosen Isabela. After all, how could anyone, much less a beautiful, confident man like Fenris find a gangly, graceless creature like her attractive?
Hawke threw her duvet over her head in a futile bid to block out the memories of her companions' tryst. In fact, she was convinced that if she stayed there long enough the whole world would disappear. Hawke honestly did not think she could stand to face them again.
She wanted to hate Isabela, wanted to feel betrayed but Hawke knew it was unfair. It was not Isabela's fault. She was certain that even if Isabela hadn't shown any interest in Fenris, he still wouldn't touch her with a ten-foot pole.
Maybe she could learn to hate Fenris instead. After all, he hated her. Yet even as that notion came into being, she knew she could never do that either. So, Hawke settled for hating herself for being so stupid, for falling for an unrepentant mage-hater.
A knock drew her from her despondent thoughts but she did not answer, certain that it was only Bodahn or Orana trying to coax her out of bed again. After a moment of silence, she heard the click of her door opening and an unexpected voice call out to her.
"Hawke?"
Ah, dear reliable Anders.
Anders' footfalls neared as he continued, "Bodahn said you've been in bed for two days, are you ill?"
He peeled the duvet back, then knelt down beside her. Gently, he swept her hair aside, and rested the back of his hand on her forehead. Hawke shivered from the comforting warmth that radiated from his touch.
He gave her a warm and reassuring smile. "You don't seem ill. Are you just hiding from your demanding public?"
She managed a small feeble smile before the silly tears threatened to overwhelm her again. Anders said nothing, he simply gathered her in his arms and held her tightly. Hawke fell into the embrace, savouring the solace he so willingly offered.
Anders, always kind, always thoughtful, he had taken care her from the moment they met. While he was to her a big brother she never had, she knew he felt a little more than brotherly love for her.
Hawke turned to look up at him, finding affection and heartfelt concern in his clear amber eyes. At that moment, affection and concern were exactly what she craved, nothing else mattered. Throwing caution to the wind, she pulled him down for a tender kiss.
Anders, who could love her for who she was, would never break her heart.
~ FIN ~