Norah opened the wooden door and let Varric inside. He looked around swiftly before he ventured in and closed the door behind him. The whores were finishing dressing themselves at the moment – apparently they did it so many times that they made it in a record time now. Varric leaned back towards the door and shook his head.
"Did he pay you yet?" The elven whore gave him a salacious smile and replied.
"Oh, yes. Should we go or do you want us to… felicitate you as well?
Varric crashed the door open. "Get out!"
She snorted and walked away along with the other one. Varric did notice their stiff and a bit ducky pace. He shook his head again, this time with a brief chuckle, and walked over to the bed.
Samael was lying there on the belly, completely naked, drunk and dead to the world. Varric hesitated for a second then he noticed five narrow scars on Samael's left hip. They could be the heritage of many battles Samael had fought in, but they were so… tidy-looking and quite straight. It looked almost like… no, that wasn't possible. Or was it?
Varric's glance ended up on Samael's sleeping face. He felt almost sorry for waking him up, but he flipped him on his back and started paddling his cheeks.
"Mmmnmmnm."
"C'mon, Hawke, look at me." Varric was certainly enjoying himself.
"Hmmm, vrrrrmmm."
"Don't make me tip over that bucket of cold water onto you!" Varric was getting impatient now.
Samael opened one eye, trying to focus on Varric's face. "Bugger off, dwarf."
"Well you can't sleep here. Norah told me to get you out of here. Now! Believe me, you don't want her to be mad at you." Varric abruptly pulled Hawke on his shaky legs, enwraping him in a blanket he brought. Samael was swaying and blinking, trying to find something he could steady himself on.
"Here, let uncle Varric help you." Varric was smirking again, leading him to his room.
"Where are… where are we going? Samael supported by Varric had managed to pull himself through the door.
"To my suite, of course," Varric replied with chuckles.
"So you still insist we call that hovel of yours a suite, huh?" Samael tried to scratch his head and hit the wall.
"If you're gonna act like a jerk, I'll let Norah toss your ungrateful ass on the streets of Lowtown and just for your information – I will take my blanket you are wearing with me. Where is your armor anyway?" Varric managed to lay Hawke down onto the couch.
"Don't know, don't care." Samael mumbled and drifted off. Varric was watching him for a while, then he snuggled him into the blanket. But not before he took a second look at those weird scars. Well, judging by the different coloration and intensity they weren't inflicted at the same time. One of them was fresh. Oh, Varric really loved conundrums.
oOo
They all sat down at their usual table, while Norah was fixing their drinks. Sebastian was absent, occupied with some Chantry business. No jokes tonight, no teasing. Even Isabela was staring in front of her, her face was blank.
Anders couldn't stand the quiet anymore and turned to Samael. "It's all your fault, you know! She wouldn't be lying comatose in a crappy bed in the alienage, if you… if you…" Anders threw his arms sideways in an angry gesture, pacing around.
"Well, finish your intriguing chain of thoughts, mage. If I what…? Managed to beat down the whole Red Iron company? Aveline counted fifty five bodies, mage. Fifty five!
And I don't remember asking her to be there! She wasn't supposed to be there!"
Samael stood up and kicked away the armchair he was sitting in. Varric was expecting this outburst and caught Samael's hand before he could throw a small knife hiding in it onto the mage. As he knew their rogue leader, it was probably coated in a potent poison. Aveline and Fenris were already standing too – Fenris was holding Samael's forearm while Aveline simply placed her hand onto the mage's chest.
But Anders decided to push his luck even further. "Look at him! He doesn't give a shit about her! He doesn't care she might not wake up at all! Because of him!"
"You're not helping, Anders!" Aveline pushed the mage roughly back to his seat. "If I recall well, we have more serious problem about Merrill right now. The Templars were sniffing in the alienage last night and it was just our damn luck they haven't found her there. We need to move her. Tonight." After this statement nobody felt like talking right then. They all knew what harboring a mage, a blood mage in fact, meant. Isabela broke the silence.
"How… How is she anyway?" Isabela's eyes were a bit sleepy and swollen. Anders sighed and covered his face with both hands.
"I examined her body immediately when Hawke brought her to the clinic, but I didn't find any injury. Not even a scratch in fact. All we know is that she used… blood magic… to heal Hawke and she used her own life energy to finish the blood ritual. All we can do now is to wait, keeping her warm and resting."
They'd all been quiet for a few minutes, occasionally sipping their ale. When Samael broke the silence, his voice was soft, but steady.
"I will take her." Nothing have surprised his companions more at that moment than this simple declaration. They were all looking at him, some in disbelief, others with curiosity.
Samael didn't wait for their smart comments, but turned straight to Fenris.
"What are you doing tonight?" Samael smiled at his elven friend, knowing the answer already.
"I was going to continue plundering Danarius's wine cellar, but it can wait I suppose." Fenris stood up and gave Samael a graceful bow. "I am at your disposal."
oOo
Bodahn brought another pile of warm blankets into Samael's bedroom, wondering why Messere Hawke decided to settle that sleeping elven girl down in his own quarters when they had three other guest rooms ready for anyone who might need them. But he knew better than to question his volatile master.
"Anything else, Messere Hawke?" Bodahn quietly addressed Samael with concern.
"Please make sure I have a sufficient stock of logs in here and…. Uh… that would be all for today. Thank you, Bodahn." Samael nodded at the dwarf.
"If you need anything, Messere, please, wake me up and I will take care of it." Bodahn nodded back and left the room, closing the door behind him discreetly.
Samael stared at the engraved door for a while and then sank into the myrtle green armchair in the corner. His eyes were wandering around the room before they landed on the small motionless figure lying in his bed. He had been watching her for half an hour before standing up and trying to revive the lingering fire. He was fighting within himself as he walked slowly over to the bed and glanced at Merrill's dreaming face. He watched the flames dancing on her pale skin and Dalish tattoos. He started moving his hand toward her face, but before he could touch her, he pulled it back and left the room.
oOo
Fenris's imposing weapon was resting on a bench in the Hawke's front room. Even lying there innocently it looked menacing, like a blade that often dealt death, and it was. The elven warrior had set it aside for just a moment to help settle Merrill into the bedroom. Fenris was sheathing his weapon now, ready to leave the mansion and head home, when he heard a floorboard creak behind him. He didn't bother to look to see who was standing there, he knew.
"I hope you know what you're doing, Hawke. Because if you don't… You do realize there's a death sentence for harboring a filthy blood mage? I would hate you if I had to come up with some silly strategy to get you out of Meredith's claws before she cut your reckless head off."
Samael considered these words and looked, almost against his will, upstairs where Merrill was resting. When he turned back, Fenris was watching him. He saw the struggle and doubts in Samael's eyes, but decided to leave him alone.
"Good night, Hawke."
"Good night, Fenris."
oOo
Aveline, Varric and Fenris met at the Chantry square, just under the statue representing cooperation between a mage and a Templar; the opposing stone factions were gathered around a young woman holding her baby. Fenris looked up at the marble mage and reminisced about one night almost a year ago, when Samael and he were stumbling home – dead drunk – from the Hanged Man. Samael insisted he help Fenris home first and Fenris was teaching him three dirty Tevinter ditties in exchange. When they reached the Chantry square, they both looked up at the sculptural group. They glanced at each other and started roaring as the same thought crossed their minds. Hawke then climbed up and using his dagger carved into the Templar's stone calf "Meredith is a hag faced whore."
Squinting to read the new addition, Fenris doubled over in laughter. Samael then moved to the mage, almost falling in his drunken state, barely grabbing a protrusion on the mage's robe to steady himself, called down to his friend, "How shall we improve this one?"
Fenris who had started to happily yodel his favorite song, scratched his head comically and said, "Under this skirt lies the world's smallest penis."
Samael grinned at him and set to work, concentrating mightily, his tongue protruding from the side of his mouth as he focused, he inscribed the letters deep and large. Of course the guard has soon obliterated the writing, but the scars on the statues were still there and Fenris knew what they had once said.
Fenris shook his head, driving away this vivid memory, looking at his friends. Varric cocked his left eyebrow and blinked, Aveline sighed, and they all moved at once towards Hawke's estate. They hadn't seen him in two weeks, not that they hadn't tried. He was not at home during all that time or when he was, he had forced Bodahn to lie to cover for him.
Varric knocked and wait politely until Bodahn's accommodating face peered at them.
"Greetings Messeres! I'm afraid, my master is not available at this moment and…"
"Good, because we came to talk to you, Bodahn." Aveline interrupted him rudely.
Bodahn sighed and opened the heavy door wide letting them in with a gesture of mute resignation. He settled them down in the dining room, fussing around them, bringing beverages, asking about the weather. Fenris lost his temper and snapped at him.
"Sit, dwarf! We came for answers." Aveline silenced him with raised hand and turned to poor Bodahn.
"We haven't seen your master in two weeks, Bodahn. We need to know, what's going on here. And since he refuses to see us… Well, we just hoped you could enlighten us."
Bodahn sat down heavily next to her and fixed his eyes on his entwined hands.
"Messere Hawke… is going through rough times right now. Since he brought Miss Merrill here it's getting worse and worse. Mistress Amell and my master had terrible fight about the poor girl. Mistress insisted on moving her out of the mansion and master Samael…" Bodahn stopped talking to figure out how to say it in non-vulgar manner. "Well my master told her the girl is staying here and suggested Mistress could move out herself since, and I quote, 'she was itching to do this for God damned two years now' end of quote."
Bodahn looked up at them, sorrow and shame in his eyes.
Varric coughed and it sounded surprisingly like "Samael, you nug-humper." Aveline rolled her eyes and continued her interrogation.
"So what does he do? We know he leaves the house, but we weren't able to follow him. He just melts into shadows and that's it. Hell, I made my guards follow him once, but they reported he had vaporized in a dead end street."
Bodahn shifted on his chair. This dialogue was clearly uncomfortable for him.
"Well, Miss Merrill still lies in the bed unconscious. Master spends every morning in his bedroom with Miss Merrill and reads to her or tells her stories. Then he eats a little and he is off to work by noon. His mabari usually goes along. He comes home in the late evening and retires to his bedroom to see Miss Merrill. I am instructed to deliver dinner for two every day. Around midnight Messere Hawke leaves his bedroom and uses one of the guest rooms to sleep."
If Bodahn had turned into an abomination, they would not have been more stunned than they were on hearing this.
"Samael… reads to her?" Varric's mouth fell open.
"Dinner for two?" Aveline was shaking her head, trying to understand. She looked at Varric. "Do you think… do you think Hawke is… losing it?"
Varric had to laugh at her expression. "Nah, Captain. I am pretty sure, that he's just grieving."
"Grieving? He hasn't grieved for his siblings until now, and now he is? And how is this related to a dinner for two?" Nope, Aveline really wasn't joking. Varric always knew that woman was an invincible battering ram on the battlefield, but when it came to relationships, she was more like a baby bronto.
"Never mind, Captain, I'll explain it to you later when the children are asleep." Varric sighed.
"And how do you know what he's doing inside?" Fenris narrowed his eyes and folded his arms in front of him. "Have you been eavesdropping, dwarf?"
"Well… no! Of course not. I just happened to stand behind his door, that's all." Bodahn twitched and looked positively ashamed.
"And what have you been doing behind that door, hm?" Varric cocked his head, as a light smile curled his lips.
Bodahn sighed. "Eavesdropping."
Aveline snorted impatiently. "What kind of jobs has he taken recently?"
"I don't know, Captain, but he comes home very tired and beaten up usually – I've been patching him up every other evening, in fact.
"That's enough. We'll wait for him here and talk to him." Aveline leaned back in her chair and rubbed her temples.
Before they could do something about it, Bodahn were pushing them all out the front door of Samael's estate.
"Messere Hawke ordered me to let nobody in, Messeres, and I am sorry for this, but farewell." With these words Bodahn slammed the door closed. Oh yes. Bodahn knew who his master was and people who dared to defy him had ended up usually dead or wishing they were dead.
oOo
Samael was standing in the dark, waiting for the contact who was supposed to buy his lyrium. Well, in fact the Coterie's lyrium, but first come, first served, right? His young mabari was fidgeting impatiently and he had to admonish it several times. Somebody was coming finally but something felt wrong. He saw a dark shadow slipping onto the roof and voices that were louder and louder. Something went apparently wrong on the smuggler's side.
Four Templars appeared in the street and the fifth one was patrolling on the roof apparently. Samael could simply melt in the shadows and walk away unseen, but lately he was grateful for every chance to kill something, anything, and his survival sense was practically non-existent by now. Merrill still hadn't woken up, and his despair was growing deeper and deeper with every new day.
He stepped forward, his strategy already crystal clear in his head.
"Here you are, smuggler! You're coming with us. All the lyrium you have is hereby confiscated and you'll be judged by the city law of Kirkwall." The Templar finished his unimpressive speech and they were all looking at the silent Samael in anticipation. If they were smarter they would have noticed that Samael was no common smuggler or petty thief.
"So come and take it."
Samael held the package in his left hand, waiting, an innocent expression on his face. The Templars nodded at each other and one of them approached him swiftly and the dance began.
With a precise move, Samael took the knife hidden in his right hand and plunged it into the slot in the helmet as the puppy knocked the nearest two Templars down. Samael looked up, then threw another knife coated in a poison at the Templar archer on the roof at the same time as the Templar he was looking at fired. His knife found its target just at the unprotected part between the templar helmet and the cuirass. An arrow flew into the dark behind him and Samael found himself facing three Templars.
Two of them were apparently young and scared recruits, and Samael intended to leave them as training dummies for his mabari. The Templar hunter was equal to Samael in strength and cunning; Samael knew a fine warrior when he saw one. The Templar leapt forward to test Samael's abilities. Samael remained calm, and for a moment he just dodged the fierce sword attack. When he felt the Templar had grown tired, he made a feint to his left to confuse his rival, then he launched forward, giving his opponent devastating blows, with both daggers sinking into Templar's torso. The puppy managed to kill one recruit in the meantime, and Samael now watched as the puppy was walking around the last one, growling, ready to react to every Templar's move. The young recruit was so preoccupied with the grinning mabari he didn't notice he was the last man standing and Samael was closing in from behind.
Samael wasn't in the mood for playing tonight, so he simply kicked the young recruit down on the ground. The recruit was caught by surprise and fell like a log. Samael promptly kicked the sword out of recruit's feeble hand. The puppy wanted to finish him off, but he gave the command to stop with his hand. He strolled to the panting templar and removed his helmet. He had no idea why he did that. Under the helmet he found a young woman with surprisingly blond long hair looking up at him, her eyes pleading, her lips trembling.
He heard her whispering jerkily, "Maker guides my steps for I am his beloved child. When I descend into the arms of Death I will know I remain at the Maker's side for…"
Samael slowly shook his head, considering letting her live. But she had seen his face already. She would end up running around the Gallows accusing him of murdering her brethren. But she was so young. So innocent. Why was it that everybody around him ended up dead like his siblings did or near death, like the woman he loved the most in his life? Was he condemned to sow death around him, no matter what he did, how he felt about it? When will this end? Would it ever end? How was he supposed to hang in there with all the blood on his hands? A cold hand squeezed his heart and he realized he was just making excuses to let this threat live, and bite him in his ass in the future, no doubt. He knew what had to be done.
With that thought Samael slit her throat without hesitation. He cleaned his weapons diligently, grabbed the lyrium package, and took French leave.