A/N: Final chapter up next.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, EA and Bioware does. They're on loan.

Carver fidgeted before the door in Merrill's house. What in the Void was he doing? He's a templar but there he was, outside the door of an elven mage. An elven blood mage. For a date. He consoled himself with the knowledge that Merrill was not a corrupted blood mage. An especially pretty, non-corrupt blood mage. Perspective was always good.

The alienage's residents started to look suspiciously at him. "Don't you have anything better to do?" Carver snarled at the onlookers, who immediately turned away. Elves didn't look kindly to humans or elves who dallied with each other. Carver was particularly obvious since he had been standing outside Merrill's house for half an hour, looking awkward despite being in his best clothes with a bouquet in his hand. The sun was beginning to set and he had to act soon. "You can do this Carver, it's just Merrill."

He thrice rapped at the door. Several moments passed.

No response.

He knocked harder, this time calling out for Merrill's name. "It's Carver," he ended, feeling embarrassed that he had to introduce himself.

He finally heard some shuffling from within the house.

And a thud.

And Merrill yelping.

"I'll be out in a moment," Merrill's voice rang out, a tinge of pain laced her voice.

Carver winced and unconsciously exhaled quite loudly. "This can't be good." He began wobbling on his feet, bobbing forwards and backwards in an attempt to get rid of the tension.

A gust of wind hit Carver's face when the door swung open. He was greeted with the sight of Merrill, in her usual attire, except for the lack of scarf. Her hair lay in disarray without braids, her usually rosy cheeks were pale and the eyes and nose were puffy. A sore spot interrupted the vallaslin on the center of her forehead.

Definitely not ready for a date.

Carver was beginning to think his sister tricked her. The thought burned through his nervousness and soon a frown appeared on his face.

"Hi, Merrill," he greeted through gnashed teeth. The bouquet trembled in his hand. Carver would have asked Merrill if she had been informed of her appointment but decided against it. He would have just looked like a bigger ass than he was at the moment.

Merrill seemed to finally notice Carver's plight. Color returned to her cheeks. "Oh, I'm so, so sorry, Carver! I was up all night and I don't know, I suppose I fell asleep sometime ago and I only woke up when you called." Merrill covered her face with her hands. "I knew I'd mess this up too, I'm so sorry, Hawke. I mean Carver. Carver Hawke. It's also correct to call you that, right?" She did not notice him sigh in relief.

"It's fine. Just Carver is fine." With shaky hands, he held out a luxurious bouquet composed mainly of roses. "Here, for you."

Merrill rewarded the man with a small smile. "Oh, they're lovely," she gushed as she took the flowers with her arms, almost disappearing behind it. "I have to put these somewhere," the woman regarded Carver while opening the door. "You don't mind waiting, do you?"

"O-of course," Carver stuttered. He stepped forward to follow Merrill into her house.

But found that the door was closed behind the host.

"Oh, right." Carver slumped on the doorway. "Outside."

Isabela slapped her hand on her mouth, muffling giggles. She was wearing a drab, brown cloak with the hood over her head. At her side was Hawke, made incognito by priest garbs and a Chantry veil. Together they looked like a typical penitent and confessor out on their rounds. After a few pints earlier in the Hanged Man, Isabela suggested that they should stake out Carver's date for 'shits and giggles'. Hawke was dodging the Viscount's whims and was only too willing to agree; so much that she didn't bother to question the origin or use Isabela had for their disguises. Isabela, meanwhile, was just bored. The pair had arrived just in time to see Hawke's brother kiss the elf's door and loitered around the merchant stand right across their friend's house.

"It's sad that I'm expecting that." Isabela whispered into Hawke's ear.

Hawke nodded, surveying some of the merchant's crafts. "I can see him blaming this on me." A particular elven ring caught her attention.

Isabela tugged on the hem of Hawke's robe. "Oh, looks like they're ready to go. C'mon." Hawke looked over her shoulder and saw that Merrill had managed to look more presentable, having done her hair in their usual braids and wrapped her neck in a scarf.

The faux-priest nodded and grabbed the elven ring from the stand before briskly walking away. Before the merchant could call her attention, Hawke had already carelessly thrown two or three sovereigns at him, the weight of gold coins stalled any of his protests.

Carver walked behind Merrill on their way out of the alienage. Beyond that, he did not know where to take his companion; he had earlier planned for a fancy dinner in a Hightown restaurant, but seeing that Merrill lacked shoes, they will be denied entry on the spot. He also thought of the Docks for a romantic evening stroll, but decided against it because of lowlifes crawling the area during night. The elf's uncharacteristic quiet also added to the tension.

"Merrill, is there any place that you'd like to visit?" he asked, seeing that they were already halfway through Lowtown without any destination.

Merrill snapped her head up, seemingly surprised with the question. Carver almost bumped into the woman's back since she abruptly stopped walking. "Where I'd like?" She looked around and saw that they were in the trader's area of Lowtown, right below the steps of Hightown. "Well, I think there's a lovely new bookstore in Hightown. Do you think it's still open?" Merrill looked up the sky, which indicated early evening. Carver could not place the emotion in the woman's eyes. "Hawke always invited to take me there but I keep getting lost whenever I come to meet her."

Carver smiled. "I know the place." He had frequented said bookstore on templar business. "It's open until late evening, they serve light food too. Want to have supper there?"

Merrill replied with a small nod and climbed Hightown's stairs. "I suppose it's shared between us elves and humans to involve food in courtship," she casually commented.

Carver was thankful Merrill was ahead of him, at least she couldn't see the mad blush on his face. Her unintended bluntness never failed to unhinge him. "Does it, really?" he asked, successfully hiding any discomfort he was feeling.

"Yes, at least I think so," Merrill related as they step into the market square. "Among us Dalish, no one's willing to wed a hunter unless he or she has a successful hunt because they're thought unable to provide for family. But food has a different significance in human courtship, I suppose?"

Carver smiled, always finding Merrill's rambling endearing. "If not I'm making a poor show for buying instead of hunting. Speaking of weddings...how about your Keepers, could they marry?" he asked, his tone more hopeful than he intended.

"Oh, of course," the elf answered matter-of-factly, any suggestion from Carver effectively lost. "Any child from a Keeper is almost assured of magic. Dalish Keepers possess the strongest magic in their line since they're mostly descended from the elvhen nobles of the Dales, and you know how important magic is to us Dalish, yes?"

Carver winced at the mention of magic but nonetheless jumped at the opportunity for small talk. He walked faster to join Merrill's side. "Well, you're almost a Keeper. So you're a noble?"

Merrill tilted her head in thought. "You know, I've never thought about that. The People put more stock in ability with the gift than from which family we're from." She directed her eyes up at the sky almost hidden by Hightown's structure, looking wistful. "And I couldn't remember anything about my parents save my mother's voice." She then looked curiously at her companion."I suppose I am then, like you and your sister, your family are nobles here in Kirkwall?"

"Yes, my sister's quite taken with it but she's mostly used the title to fornicate with the lot." Carver commented with a smirk. He barely sidestepped in time when a priest breezed past him. Anyone else he would've given a piece of mind but being a templar, he was subordinate to Chantry priests. Before he could utter a greeting the priest had gone into a corner. He muttered a curse then noticed that Merrill had fallen behind him.

Carver stopped walking and looked back to his companion, who had completely halted and was staring off to the side. The settling dark made him unable to see Merrill's features.

"Merrill?"

"Oh!" the woman pipped then shuffled to Carver's side. "Sorry, spaced out a bit back there." Merrill's palm rested on cheek. "I thought as much about your sister," her voice sounding quite flat. "I'm sure there's no shortage of nobles who like her. She's so gorgeous and pretty, was she like that even in Ferelden?"

Carver predictably was irritated with the topic. Nonetheless, he masked this from Merrill as they proceeded with their stroll. "Gorgeous and pretty? Can't say. Her relations weren't with nobles but never as bad as now. Sister is, you know," he shrugged, "Wanted. And we're simple peasants then so we had no status to shield us." They stopped in front of the imposing structure of the bookstore. Carver opened the door for Merrill and ceremoniously gestured for her to enter. "After you."

Merrill stepped past him; if she was affected by chivalry the man could not tell.

"Fornicate? Tch!" Hawke huffed, obviously incensed as she watched the pair come into the store. Carver proceeded to an attendant and seemed to have ordered some food. Merrill went straight into the History section. "He might as well have said 'my sister fucked and screwed Hightown'." Isabela and her were huddled in an inconspicuous section of the establishment, namely the erotica section.

Isabela roamed her eyes about and was keeping herself as stealthy as possible then turned to Hawke. "Knowing you I'd say only the barely adult and attractive virgin nobles or Knight-Commanders." Hawke rewarded her with a sneer. She replied with shrug. "He is right you know. And I can never get your taste. Virgins mostly just lie there. No fun at all." She picked up a book entitled 'The Divine Exchange' and began browsing through it.

Hawke ignored the last comment and crossed her arms on her chest. "You say barely adult as if I'm a dirty old man. I'm barely an adult as well."

"Who has enough conquests to shame a middle-aged prick." Isabela added with chuckle as she paid more attention into the lurid rag she was reading. "Ooo, the Chantry should listen to this, bridge the Schism with sex."

Hawke sighed. Isabela's attention was already diverted with smut. She looked at Carver disappear into the history section. "At least Carver can read something other than swords and bum," she muttered as she dragged Isabela by the arm and stalked to History's neighboring section.

Carver massaged his temples as he stepped behind Merrill. The woman was already too absorbed with her reading material to notice his presence. Sexy dark hair and blue eyes my ass, he thought. "Got you tea and crumpets. Is that alright?" He noticed Merrill flinch from the sound of his voice.

"Yes, thank you." Merrill slammed the book shut and replaced it on the shelf. She then faced Carver wringing her fingers nervously. "I'm so sorry Carver, I've been rude to you, haven't I? Talking about myself the entire evening." She stared at her feet as she rubbed the side of her hand to her eyebrows. "I'm afraid I've never had a date or much less courted by anyone. Elf or human. Or dwarves..." Merrill chuckled nervously. "No, not even by dwarves."

Talking about yourself and my sister you mean, Carver wanted to say, but held his tongue. He shook his head and smiled reassuringly at Merrill. "It's fine, Merrill. I understand." He pretended to look through the books on templar history. "But I can't see why you've never been courted. You're a very attractive woman."

Merrill drew back a pace, a bit more color streamed to her face. "You're too kind," she said, accepting the words with a weak smile. "I see you take after your flattering sister."

"I don't do insincere flattery." Carver felt his jaw strain, once again being compared to his older sibling. "I just say it as it is."

Merrill eyebrows knitted together, irritation evident. "Just because Hawke is generous with her praises doesn't mean they're any less sincere."

Carver's nails dug into palms as they curled into fists. Temper, templar. He has to make a good impression. "I don't mean anything bad by it. I just learned not to take her seriously since I grew up as the butt of her jokes."

Merrill's eye grew wide. "Oh! Of course you don't." Her eyes landed on her feet again. "I don't know what came over me, I thought you were speaking ill of her and I thought how could you she is your elder sister and she's always been so nice to everyone and...and I'm babbling again." She sighed. "I'm terrible at this."

"You're getting better by the minute." He exhaled and started for the small cafeteria. His mind desperately groped for other topics.

"So! Uh, templars been giving you trouble?"

Merrill followed Carver's steps. "No, thank the Creators. I think to them I'm just another elf in the alienage. Not that I could catch their attention if I'm hardly ever out." Merrill paused, then solemnly asked her friend: "How did Hawke get her scar?"

Carver deflated with a loud sigh. He may not be the brightest but even to him it was clear who Merrill's really interested in. Either his sister was incredibly daft or had played a royally evil trick on him.

If it was the latter Carver swore that he will drag Hawke to the Gallows himself.

"Maker's balls Hawke." Isabela whispered with a hand over her mouth then turned her gaze to her friend. Her face was deadpan. "Tell me you didn't know or I will stick my knives into your belly and twist 'til your eyes bleed."

Hawke deflected with a smile. "Of course I'd answer 'I don't know' with those options."

"I'm serious, Hawke. Kitten might as well ask Carver to set you two up!" She rested her forehead on a shelf and groaned.

"Fine." Hawke ran her hand through her face beneath the veil. "I didn't know. Not until Mother noticed."

Isabela's head snapped straight from shelf. "Your mother? Are you a child?" She shook her head. "This is so not you."

So Hawke explained what transpired the previous night and what happened after Merrill left.

"...was that?" Hawke mumbled as soon as she closed the door after Merrill. She could have sworn that Merrill was trying to...

"Nooo." she waved her hand, not even finishing the thought. Hawke walked back into the main hall and was greeted by her mother's knowing smile. The daughter froze. If there was anything that could scare Hawke it would be her mother.

Leandra folded her hands over her chest, smiling in a manner quite like her daughter's. "Broke that girl's heart, I presume?"

Hawke felt the words punch into her gut. She wasn't sure if it was because Leandra was prying into her affairs or because she had uttered the thoughts she dismissed. Hawke hid her discomfort by returning her mother's smile. "And since when have you taken to eavesdropping?"

"I always have, Love. You just never noticed." Leandra answered while pinching her eldest's cheek. Hawke blushed as she did. "I thought you avoided liaisons with friends?" the mother asked after releasing her child's cheek.

"I can't help it, I like pretty things," Hawke cooled her face with her palm. She then leaned on the fireplace, keeping her eyes on fire. A growing unease filled her features. "Anyway, it's Merrill. You're mistaken." She would have added how Merrill reminded her of Bethany but didn't, afraid to upset her mother.

"Forgive me for saying this Love," Leandra interrupted as she joined Hawke before the fireplace. "But what your friend said back there? It's a proper young lady's way of saying, 'take me into your arms and kiss me'."

Hawke mocked indignation and flung a hand to her chest. "Mother, I am offended! I think I would know as a proper young lady myself."

Leandra laughed as she took her daughter's hand into her own. "Of course you are, Dear. But from that reaction I think you..."

Hawke pulled her hand away before Leandra could finish. "Carver likes her." That should end the topic, she thought.

"Oh. Well." Leandra look surprised, raising a hand to cover her mouth. "That makes things." She cleared her throat. "Complicated."

"Hardly if I'm not in the picture. Also, I've set them up." Hawke leaned forward and kissed her mother on both cheeks, then smirked. "I shall withdraw before you try returning the favor."

Leandra smiled while stroking her daughter's cheeks. "I don't need to do that, it seems."

"Of course you don't, if Carver's opinion of me is true." Hawke laughed heartily and walked off to her room. "Goodnight Mother."

"Goodnight. "

Hawke frowned as she rubbed her temples while she proceeded to her room. So the thing with Merrill wasn't just her imagination, after all.

As soon as she finished, Hawke felt the pointed end of Isabela's dagger drawn to her abdomen. The pirate's face was obviously not pleased.

"'Bela..." Hawke frowned, a faint glow appeared in her eyes. "Let's not go there."

"It's taking all my love for Kitten to not stick you," Isabela hissed as she withdrew the dagger. In return magic died from Hawke's eyes. Isabela slumped her aching forehead on the shelf again. "Why hello there, I'm Hawke! I'm so daft I can't tell if ladies are throwing their knickers at me and I also ask them to date my brother, just in case. Bah!"

"Could you keep it down? Carver's looking this way," Hawke hissed back, hiding further back into the shelves. She sighed. "Can you blame me? It's Merrill, I see her, I see Bethany. Every time I think of her like that I feel like I'm molesting my dead sister."

Isabela looked to Hawke and cocked an eyebrow.

"So you have?" the pirate probed.

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Well durr. She's my type, except for the sister thing."

"And if I remove the sister-goggles, is Merrill suddenly an option?"

Hawke paused for a long moment, all imagined thoughts were plainly readable on her face.

She blanched. And felt incredibly stupid.

"She is."

Isabela slapped herself on the forehead. "Ugh, and mages are supposed to be smart?" Isabela walked to the counter with her smut rag in hand. "What a bizzare love triangle," she muttered.