Marian Amell sat in the drawing room, playing the lute for Orana. She heard loud footsteps from upstairs, and told Orana to wait whilst she saw to her brother. She got up silently, and stood in the doorway. "Where are you going?"

Carver jumped at the sound of his sister's voice. He turned to face her, and went red. "To… Uh… See Merrill." Hawke smiled sweetly. She was fond of Merrill, and she certainly approved of her and her brother's match. She was calm, Carver was not, she hadn't changed in the years, Carver had, she was slow, and Carver was not. They'd be good for each other.

She nodded, and went to turn back to her lute playing. "And what are you doing today?" It was still early, but Marian had gotten up in time for breakfast, despite her headache. "Fix things." She sighed. Carver seemed pleased, and added, "Why?"

Hawke shook her head from inside the drawing room. "Because… I… love him." She muttered, and picked up her lute. "Who do you love, oh sister, dear?" Carver taunted, pushing his luck, he knew.
"Go see Merrill!" She plucked the lute and started singing with the young elf.

Carver always got funny looks when he went to the Alienage. It was understandable, Merrill had said, a Grey Warden, in their Alienage?! Absurd. Carver walked to the tree, and lit a candle for Malcolm, Leandra and Bethany.

"So much loss…" He heard a voice behind him, and dropped the matches suddenly. "Oh! Aren't you silly!" It was Merrill. He could tell by the blush that had arisen upon his face. "Oh… Hello Merrill." She offered him a hand. He took it, and got up. Merrill smiled, and pointed to her house. She watched him walk in.

"Sit down!" She beamed, obviously pleased to see the young Hawke. Carver did so, pulling up a chair opposite Merrill's. "I missed you…" She admitted shyly. She sipped her drink, and smiled behind her cup. "I missed you too." Carver felt bolder than the elven girl, as he could see pink grace her cheeks lightly. She smiled as she put her cup down.

"Tell me about the Grey Wardens!" Her smile softened as she spoke, "Our best hunter became a Warden…" She frowned, "Poor Mahariel… You've heard of her, Carver?" Carver put his head on the side, obviously thinking.
"What was her first name?" He asked politely, unsure if he had heard of the young Dale or not. Merrill smiled.

It'd been years since she'd seen Lyna, but she'd often thought about her, and her betrothed's fate. Poor Tamlen, the kindest of souls, most witted and the second most skilled hunter from her clan. "Lyna." She gestured for Carver to wait a moment. She got up, and fished out a small portrait from a desk drawer.

She presented it to Carver. Carver took it gently into his hands, and examined the three smiling faces that stared back at him.

On the left, was Merrill, but obviously a lot younger. Her dark brown hair was still in its braids, but longer. She also didn't don her traditional staff, she had a simple, white one, possibly stolen from a local circle. Her green eyes glimmered through effect, but to Carver, she still looked beautiful when she was painted. She smiled a modest smile in the portrait; her pale pink lips complimenting her rosy cheeks.

In the middle, was a young male elf, around Merrill's age. He had sandy-blonde hair and vibrant blue eyes. He was smiling a toothy smile, and was very close to the two elven children beside him. On his back, you could make out a bow and quiver, with carvings on them. His hand hovered over Merrill's shoulder, but his hand was firmly linked with the girl's on the right.

On the right, was another female elf, and by the looks of things, she was a year younger than the boy, but her eyes looked sad. She had flaming red hair, and pale white skin. Her eyes, too, where likes Merrill's, but a darker green, and more almond shaped.

Carver stared at the red haired girl, glancing over at the painted Merrill. "I served under her…" Carver blushed furiously. Merrill just giggled, had she grown up? "I mean, I served under her. She's a formidable archer." Merrill smiled proudly.

Carver handed her the portrait back, and smiled sweetly. "We stayed with your tribe- clan for a few weeks while Nathaniel healed. They send their best, Merrill." He stood up, and put his hands softly on her shoulders, "They don't hate you." Merrill let him hug her. He whispered into the top of her head, "Da'vhenan, emm'asha, ma sa'lath. Ma'arlath."
She gripped him tightly around the waist. "I love you too."