fenris and hawke

It hurt. Oh, how that look on his face hurt. It wasn't just his normal scowl. There was regret there, anger, sadness... and rejection. Why?, She thought. Why did she have to be born with magic? Why couldn't she have been born plain? This magic was no strength, as Merrill saw it. It was no chance for revolution, as Anders saw it. It was just a curse. Something that turned her friends and loved ones against her.
Every mage they they came up against... was either mad, or a demon. And every innocent mage they helped to escape from under Meredith's cruel gaze... only made him turn from her more. She was no blood mage, no demon possessed monster! But every touch she tried... he turned. Flinched. And cringed. Why? Had she hurt him? How? And how could she know if he didn't tell her? She sighed. Perhaps her gut was right. Perhaps she should have the Rite done when she went to the Gallows. Maybe then... maybe then... he would love her again.

No. She saw him. He had tried to school his face back to normal... but obviously he hadn't managed. He clenched his gauntleted hands tight enough that the steel tips dug in. Why did he have to hurt her so? It wasn't her fault she was a mage. Not once had she ever hurt him. And he knew that she never would. He loved her so much... so why did he keep letting his fear of magic get in the way? No more. The pain on her face... it hurt even more knowing he caused it. She was strong. She did not turn to blood magic, or demons for strength. That was all her. All of it. It must take so much, he thought, to have every problem in the city on your shoulders. And all I'm doing, is adding more suffering. No more, he vowed. I will hurt her no longer. I'll tell her tonight, when she returns from visiting Bethany in the gallows. Tell her how much I need her. How proud I am of her determination, and ability to stay strong under the pressure of blood mages and revolutionaries. And tell her, exactly how much I truly love her.