Author's note: I am not entirely happy with this, Merrill is a bit OOC for now, and I seemed to a have a hard time translating what was in my head to text, also its unbetaed. Its my first fic in a long time and my first writing foray into DA2 but here we go.
It had been two weeks.
Twos weeks had passed since the death of Leandra Hawke at the hands of the mad mage, Quentin. In that time Tristan Hawke had barely stirred, seemly preferring to remain in the Amell estate. His normally clean-shaven face had grown unkempt, and his hair was shaggy and longer than normal. In that time he barely ventured beyond the chair in front of the fire, the study and his bedroom. The one mission he had taken in the time since finding the mess his mother had been turned into, was with Isabela, Fenris and Anders. The female pirate had come back to the Hanged Man pub, quite obviously shaken and promptly began drinking a lot, even more than usual. The later two didn't get along with most of Hawke's other companions, and Isabella remained tight-lipped about what had happened, though Varric had probably weaseled it out of her. The Fereldan's companions had become quite concerned about the man they called a friend in most cases, though a rival in some of their eyes. One in particular viewed Tristan's current state with some despair. They had all visited at least once in the time since Leandra's death in attempts to help, with the exception of Carver, whose visit was less than pleasant.
Tristan's younger sibling had been livid on his visit to the ancestral family hall. The templar's shouting and throwing things around had been so bad, the City Guard had been called in by neighbours and passer-byes, an unusual show of benevolence by the Kirkwall populace. However, what was most disturbing to Aveline, who had shown up on the scene, and Merrill who had been in the house at the time, was that the eldest Hawke had barely responded to being verbally, and once or twice physically, splattered up and down the walls by Carver. Though the siblings had what fights before Tristan, had never really hesitated to give as good as he got, and they were never as bad as this had been. Merrill knew that she had been part of the problem, as Carver viewed her as one more thing he had lost to Tristan, but the amount of rage in her former friend shook her normally bubbly self to the core. Indeed, the young templar's verbal attacks on the elven girl were the one thing that had seemed to bring a bit of the fire back to Tristan's eyes, though perhaps that had been wishful thinking on the Dalish's part.
The blood mage studied the apostate's hairier face. The wry humour and playfulness that had given Tristan the unofficial Varric nickname of "Chuckles" had seemingly died with his mother, leaving only a grim stare and taciturn demeanor.
"Why are you here Merrill?". The elf almost fell of the banister, so unexpected was the other mage's voice. Tristan's tone was rough as though the sound was come from in the earth, rough from disuse, with a note of resignation ringing out.
" I- I live here." Though chipper and simple, there was a hesitation in the elf's reply. Merrill was confused at this line of questioning, her head tilted as she slowly made her way down the stair case, a shine of hurt in her eyes.
"Do you?" With his dark jade eyes gazing over he silvery apparel, the response from Tristan was short simple, and cuttingly accurate. Merrill did have to admit that after, he had asked her to move in the estate with him she had really spent many days in the house, not many more nights, though the nights she did spend with Tristan, were always worth the discomfort she felt inside the walls of the human manor. Fortunate for the pariah, he continued on almost as if talking to himself. " Not that I blame you for trying to stay away, I'm a curse, poison, just like this Maker damned city." The words were spat out, as if the apostate was trying to verbally excise the venom. Sighing he lifted the glass of Fereldan whiskey to his lips and took a long sip, halfway draining the alcohol.
"Ma vhenen, what are you saying? You're not..." Shocked at the line the conversation seemed to be taking, Merrill was shocked from her usually jovial demeanor, and flowing speech patterns. While admittedly her knowledge of human behaviour was extremely limited, not that she had better elven social skills, but this seemed different from the general melancholy that had surrounded the other mage for the past couple weeks, though the elf couldn't say how exactly, as she slowly sidled up to Hawke's chair. " I love you Hawke, that's why I'm here. Are you... Do you not want me here anymore?" Merrill questioned her wide eyes glimmering with barely unshed tears, as she felt a pain her chest, at the threat of loosing her friend and lover, for a reason she didn't understand.
Quiet followed her devastated questioning. Tristan stood from his chair, muscles and bones creaking as the shifted from the familiar position, we walked over to the fire-place and grabbed his stave from its resting place. The nobleman just stared into the flames, whilst his thumb rubbed up and down the staff, silent for a few minutes. Slowly he spoke up, his normally confident voice low, and trying to broadcast a determined air. "Merrill, I don't want you to get hurt. I think it would be best for you, for us both, if we stopped this."
The Dalish blood mage felt her breath catch and blood chill at the human's suggestion, the mage's words crushing down upon her. Her tears finally began their run down her tattooed face. "What? But Tristan, we I.. Is this about Eluvian? because I know you didn't give me the arulin'holm, and I've been working on it anyways. But..."
" No Merrill, it's not the mirror, well not entirely." Tristan cut off the elf. He leaned down to scratch the Mabari, who had been curled up by the chair and was now whining at the confrontation between the mages, straightening up before finishing the last of his drink. Looking at the dog he let out a breath, and shoulders sagged, shaking his head he asked. " I suppose we could, go for a walk?" Hawke sounded reluctant, knowing how ludicrous it was to say such a thing, given the context of the conversation.
Tearfully the keeper's former apprentice shook her head, not fully ready to speak. The Fereldan refugee walked about to within an arm's length of the distraught elf, who turned around not particularly willing to look at Tristan at the moment. "Shhh, I know it's hard. I just... let's look at the flowers and stuff and I can explain. Not here though, please."
Light sobs racked Merrill's lithe frame, even as she tried to control herself. Finally after what seemed like forever to both mages, she gave a slight nod of her head and let out a trembling "Okay", she he turned around. An expression almost like a smile quickly flitted across the human male's face before it went blank again, the only emotions were reflecting in his deep jade orbs, which had always been Merrill's favourite part of the eldest Hawke sibling's features, as they reminded her of the comforts of the forests and the earth, calming her even when the world around them seemed to be burning, as it was now.
"Is everything alright Master Hawke?" The house's steward and Dwarven Merchant Bodahn Feddic poked his head in the room. His eyes scanned the scene noting the pacing Mabari, a rigid and uncomfortable Tristan just turning around to see him as did a visibly upset women, his eyes widen. " Oh dear, whats the matter Mistress Merrill? Is there anything I can do to help?"
Tristan interjected " No, no Bodahn. Everything is going to be fine. Merrill and I are just going to go out for a walk around Kirkwall. We'll be back later." The dwarf was not particularly convinced by the mage's words, he squinted at the two of them until Merrill gave a weak attempt at on her usual beaming grins. He gave a slight incline of his head in response. "Very well messere, shall I call any off your other companions?" The nobleman shook his head.
" No, that won't be needed. though we will take Aris with us." At hearing his name, the Mabari hound cocked his head at his master. Bodahn nodded and bowed, before a call of "Enchantment!" from Sandal distracted him. Saying a quick goodbye, the dwarven steward went off to find his adopted son.
The walk through Kirkwall's streets was uncommonly silent for the three travellers, no thugs jumped to attack them, and conversation between the two mages was non-existent. There was a tense emotionally charged air between them, both Tristan and Merrill would constantly glance at each other and quickly dart their eyes away when caught. Even Aris was not oblivious to the tension, the dog tried to dance around the two to cheer them up, when that didn't work he walked ahead of his companions, head hanging. Surprisingly quickly they reached the Alienage in Lowtown. The elf stared at Tristan in bemusement but he just continued on Merrill's doors, waiting for her to catch up and open it.
After she walked in, Tristan entered shutting the door before marching up to the Eluvian, holding on hand just inches away from the cracked mirror, closing his eyes he blindly studied it for a moment. " Do you remember what I said when I refused to give you the Arulin'holm?" He softly asked.
Though his eyes were still closed, Merrill nodded at him. " Yes, you said that rather from been stuck in the past we should look to the future, and forge a new path in this world." While the words had bothered her, Merill could acknowledge some wisdom in the advice Tristan had given her back then. However her point still stood, even after she had forgiven the human, was that he didn't fully understand, as no matter the loss he had suffered in the fall of Lothering, didn't quite count to near cultural annihilation experiences by the Elves. " Yes, but I don't see what the Eluvian has to do with any of this. Unless you're saying you don't trust me. I can deal with this on my own, and I have been. What ever Anders and Fenris have been saying..."
Tristan let out a laugh, cutting her rambling rant off, but it wasn't like his usual laugh, which sounded like he treated the world and everything in it as one big joke, but it was a bitter draught that left Merrill colder than the winds which blew in through the holes in her shack. " No, no. I've been doing a lot of reflecting on the past myself this past while. I've always considered my magic a gift, unlike my sister Bethany. I was given this power for a reason, I had to be destined to do something with it, and while we were always on the run I knew it would be worth it, that I'd be able to protect us if the worst ever came to pass." There was a long silence, the Fereldan apostate opened his eyes though they, had a far off stare as though he was staring through the Eluvian to far off places. his jaw twitches as Tristan, seemed to be searching for the words for the torrent of thoughts that had assailed him for the last two weeks. "Yet despite my gifts, I've failed. yes I've recovered the Amell name and fortune but at what cost? For all this power within me, I was unable to save my sister or mother from horrible beasts, my brother rightfully hates me, and has joined my sworn enemies. What I do I have to show for all this?" The noble let out another dark chuckle.
Stunned pretty much to silence, by this airing of regrets and pent-up feelings from the apostate, Merril reached out to Tristan but hesitated before making skin contact, mimicking his position from earlier during their estate conversation. " Hawke, you have Varric, Isabela, Aveline... and me." She closed the distance between her hand and his shoulder, at this confession, trying to convey as best she could that she'd always be there for the other mage.
While the smile Tristan gave in return didn't melt her as they usually did, it shook her to the core. " I know Merrill, and I need your help." With that state the Fereldan reached into his robes and pulled out a familiar looking crafting tool. With Merrill's eyes stretched wide at the sight, he handed the Arulin'holm to her.
Merrill stammered " Hawke I, what, what are doing?"
Slowly clasping her hands around the artifact, Tristan held on to both her closed digits and the tool, staring deeply into Merrill's eyes he spoke. "I've been weak Merrill. For all my magic I haven't been able to protect that which I love most in the world. And i would fall apart if something were to happen to you, so I need, I need more." Slowly stepping back, the mage pulled out a dagger from his belt, and quickly slashed his palm before offering the bloody hand to the Dalish exile.
Gasping, Merrill quickly raised a hand to her to mouth, quickly grasping his hidden meaning, especially for her. " Blood Magic, Tristan? Do you know what this means?" The possible blood mage nodded, and reached up, cupping her elfin cheek with his red hand.
" You've constantly told me that you'd be willing to pay whatever the price may be to help your clan, your people. You are my clan, ma vhenen." His tongue shortly stumbled over the foreign word but he continued on. " You, and the others of course, but you most of all. I would and will do anything it takes to protect you, even walking down this path with you." Here he nodded at the Arulin'Holm and then at broken mirror behind him. ''We can delve into the secrets of the past, and blaze a new path towards destiny, together." here a gave the closest he'd had to a true smile in weeks, though with more than a touch of darkness to it. "Besides I think the two of us are more than enough to deal with one pesky demon."