Merrill's eyes snapped open and she sat up. The white nightgown was too large for her and a white and bony shoulder peeked out of the fine fabric. She was still in Hawke's bed, but the place next to her was empty. Dawn was sending the first beams of sunlight through the slim gap between the heavy velvet curtains, but most of the bedroom was still drowned in darkness. She looked around, trying to pierce the shadows, desperately searching for him. When she could not find him, she whispered his name, pure panic in her voice.
"I'm here, Merrill."
Merrill flinched and looked in the direction of the husky voice. And there he was, sitting with his legs crossed in an armchair in the darkest corner. Their eyes met and Merrill almost ran to him, shards and splinters crunching under her bare feet. She didn't care that this gesture might looked pathetic, as she sat down on the carpet. Facing him, she pressed herself onto his calf. Samael was leaning comfortably back in the armchair with his right hand supporting his head. His facial expression remained thoughtful and distant, but Merrill's little gesture pleased him deeply.
He had awoken an hour ago and moved to his favorite place. He had to think, and he was watching the sleeping Merrill as he did so. He had cursed himself several times, telling himself not to gaze at her, but his eyes always ended up on that tiny bulge snoring in his bed, despite his best efforts to look elsewhere. Samael carefully considered every moment of last night, examined every detail of their conversation. He had finally made up his mind, but now, when Merrill's sparkling eyes were watching him with expectation, he couldn't even open his mouth.
Samael searched her face, and realized in relief she looked much better then yesterday. He would love to trace her tattoo lines with his finger, but it was important she understand his every word, so he decided not to distract her. Or himself for that matter. He took a deep breath and tried to explain.
"I need you to leave, Merrill."
After this simple statement, Merrill opened her mouth in mute objection, then closed it again as tears filled her eyes. This silent demonstration of her despair almost broke him, but he was determined to see his plan through.
"I want you to understand, Merrill, just hear me out. Please," he continued.
Merrill simply nodded, confirming that she was listening to him, gulping down her tears.
"I need some time to think. We both do. I… I know what happened last night. I know what you've seen. And yet you agreed to stay here for the night. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you stayed, but… You need to leave right now. Tell Bodahn to give you your clothes and your staff. I think it would be better for both of us, if… if we…if you…" Shit, this sounded much better in his mind than when he said it out loud.
Merrill seemed calm now, and he sincerely hoped after couple of days they would talk about this again and decide together what should happen next. He knew he wanted her in his life, needed her in fact. He thought he was giving her a chance to reconsider the whole thing, to shred the bond they seemed to share if she desired to. Merrill stayed silent, and he thought she had understood and that she would grant him, and primarily herself, the time to think.
But Merrill's voice sounded chilly with a bitter undertone when she spoke, standing up with her first word.
"I understand, Samael. I always did. Farewell."
With this short and clear statement she turned around, heading for the door. She barely held her sobs in check, determined not to cry in front of him. She thought… well she didn't know anymore what she thought, but she was convinced Samael and she had intense feelings for each other. Something between love, hate, contempt and passion. She hoped everything from now on would be better and better. By the Dread Wolf, they'd shared one bed last night and the way he was touching her, hugging her… Was it just a cruel pretense? Was she condemned to be just a little toy in his hands?
Aaaaand of course she didn't understand you, Samael. How could she with that ramble you pulled out, you fool? You're such a dumbbell, Samael! he thought to himself. He shouldn't have allowed her to leave the mansion like that. So this was how it felt when your soul was struck down with the fear of losing a beloved creature? Huh, interesting.
Before Merrill managed to open the door, Samael appeared in front of her. He whirled her and slammed her against the door, his mouth covering hers, his tongue demanding access into hers to taste her. This kiss was similar to their first one, but Samael was more tender, yet vigorous at the same time. It was as if he was trying to convince her of something. Well, it wasn't hard to guess of what. He was still half naked and Merrill traced her fingers across his bare chest shyly. She moaned loudly when he clenched her hair, jolting her head back so he could gain access to her slender neck. Merrill hissed in both pain and pleasure when he bit her. It felt like he was marking his property and this sinful thought excited her beyond measure. She felt his hot breath in her left ear and she shivered.
"Foolish witch. You understood nothing." He licked her ear lazily, his exploring hands tracing her figure. Merrill forgot to breathe.
"Next time I ask you for some time to think, I would appreciate it if you just give it to me. Am I clear?" He kissed her hungrily to underline his demand.
Merrill managed to nod, scratching his back with her painted fingernails.
"Answer me." Samael obviously wasn't satisfied with her faint nod of agreement.
"Yes. Yes, I understand." Merrill's words were choked, colored with her lust.
This answer was sufficient for Samael, and he moved to her other ear, nipping gently on his way to it. He brushed his lips against that pointy ear, wishing the moment would never end.
"Leave. Now."
With these words, Samael released her from his arms and turned away from her. He strolled to the windows, peeking out at the dawn, using that small loophole between the velvet curtains. He folded his arms in front of him and hoped she would follow his order, because, damn it, he was just a man. Well, more like an utterly horny assassin standing at the edge of his self control right now.
Merrill stood where he had left her for a while, her trembling hand touching her swollen lips. She glanced one last time at his motionless figure, slowly turned around, opened the door and walked away, leaving the door open behind her.
oOo
Merrill was pacing in her house in the alienage. Ten steps from the front door to opposite wall, five steps to the right through the shabby door, seven steps to her bed, avoid the bedside table, then back to the front door. She was so furious and lost in her thoughts that she hit the table she was supposed to avoid, and that was the last drop into the overfilled bucket containing her thoughts. What did Isabela say when something angered her?
"Oh son of a bitch, sod it all, fuck you, you… you… evil…. Samael Hawke! Merrill blurted, and Isabela would have, without a doubt, wept with delight if she had heard the elf.
It had been a whole week since she had left Hawke's estate. Her friends had stopped by her house one by one to bring her gifts or just to hug her and tell her they were glad she had woken up. Merrill was happy to see them all of course, but the one she longed to see the most remained out of her reach.
She thought about sneaking into his room at night or bumping into him "accidentally" at the market place during those long nights she spent pacing through the house, climbing the walls with anger and lust. But then she remembered who she was. She wasn't some stupid young elven spawn, she was a Dalish pariah, the Keeper's First once. What would her Keeper have said if she knew Merrill was trying to bond her life with a human? And not some decent noble human, but… well… Hawke.
She was staring into the little mirror, but she didn't see herself. She saw him. In these days she saw him everywhere. She touched her lips thoughtlessly, trying to revive the feeling of his lips on hers. Mmmmm, that was it.
Persistent knocking on her door interrupted her fantasy. Aveline demanded her presence at the clearing where she had fought with Samael. Nothing else. Merrill sighed, and grabbing her staff, she walked out of her house.
Samael was hiding from his mother once again. Hiding in his own mansion. He chuckled bitterly to himself. Bodahn, the puppy and even Sandal tried to avoid him lately. Well… since Merrill left. Oh, who he was trying to fool here? He had told her to leave, she hadn't left by choice. That was the stupidest thing he had ever done. Why couldn't he just tell her something like 'stay please and let's have wild sex'? He sighed and kicked the little wooden block in his way. The block that was fixed solidly to the floor. Samael roared in pain. He was skipped on one leg for a while, feeling the ninny, as ever.
After he took revenge on that poor wooden block, plucking it out of the floor with his dagger, he started pacing across the attic again, little clouds of dust squirming around his feet. He felt anxious and angry. And now Varric was nagging him about the Coterie. He had said something about them preparing vengeance for the stolen lyrium, that he wanted to ambush them first, perhaps… Samael really didn't pay attention when the dwarf was praising his own wit and cunning. Maker, when would this madness stop? Well, he did this to himself. And only he could remedy his mistake. He wondered if she had missed him as well. Samael sighed and peered out of a bow window festooned with spider webs.
The sun was sinking below the horizon; it was time for him to get at the meeting place.
When Samael arrived, Varric, Isabela and Aveline were already waiting, chatting quietly.
"Aaaah, here is our dauntless alpha male who couldn't resist the urge to steal from the deadliest company in Kirkwall!" Varric bowed in Samael's direction, a smirk on his face.
"Nobody forced you to assist me, you beardless black-marketeer." Hawke oppugned with a smile curling his lips. They were surprised by his reaction; they haven't seen him smiling for some time now. Like ages actually.
"So is our little ambush party complete? Varric, what's the plan?" Hawke wanted to get straight to the point, but Aveline interrupted him, saying casually
"I asked Merrill to get her ass down here and help us."
Judging by the murderous expression carved on Samael's face, his chipper spirit had just been snuffed. He was not far from another of his psychotic interludes.
"You what?" Hawke asked, deadly serious. Deadly indeed; Captain or no Captain.
Then he remembered they knew nothing about his bond with Merrill. Thoughts were flittering through his mind. So they were about to ambush… the ambush… and the woman he loved would be in the middle of it. This day was just getting better and better. And now here she was, pacing swiftly to them. Samael lowered his head and dimpled against his will.
"By the Dread Wolf! I am not late, am I? What are we going to do here, hm? I mean Aveline didn't specify… I really came as quickly as… I…"
Everybody was staring at her now. Merrill's usual ramble was exquisitely… rambly today. Varric coughed and started painting the scene in vivid colors, outline his plan. Nobody noticed that both Merrill and Samael paid no attention whatsoever.
oOo
Samael started to worry when he saw Aveline was badly hurt and surrounded by almost a whole god damned troop of the Coterie minions. She was the last man standing, usually, but the Coterie recognized her as a Guard Captain, the one who had haunted their business so long, and they wished her out of it.
Samael found himself encircled by four of the Coterie's finest assassins, but he was able to handle himself well. Today he was afraid for somebody else's safety rather than his own. Not that he had dwelled on his own life much before. But then he had met this little witch, and his survival sense raised itself through the ranks ridiculously quickly.
Samael honoured the first foe with his knife into an eye socket and dodged another attacker's axe. He mocked the other two assassins for their unsuccessful attempts to stick him from behind. Oh, yes, Samael was in play mode tonight and nothing could spoil his fun. Nothing until he saw Merrill falling to the ground, knocked down by a thug who materialized from nowhere. Another three men rushed to the place where she had fallen.
Ah well, game over. Damsel in distress.
Samael plunged his daggers into the second thug's abdomen; a very nasty and slow death. After that he crouched and severed the knee ligaments of the third one, sending him down screaming. Samael made a perfect somersault from the position he was in, and stabbed the last one in the heart from behind. Then he remembered the hurt one, whining in the grass now, and casually stomped his throat.
Samael didn't even linger to admire the twin blades mastery he had just performed; he used his invincible vendetta to get straight to the boiling spot where he has seen Merrill last. Several dexterous swings with his blades, a few well-aimed kicks, and then he finally kneeled beside the fidgeting Merrill.
To his eternal relief, she had just had her breath knocked out of her, and had one long shallow wound crossing her left cheek. He narrowed his eyes when he took her head into his palms, examining the injury. This one touch wiped away all his anxiety and fear for her. Merrill closed her eyes when he touched her, the light beam on her face obvious. There was nothing but them at this moment. Samael would love to teach that bastard who had scarred her… never mind. More fighting to do, right?
He helped her up and they both glanced back at battlefield. Isabela was engaged in 'to the death' combat with the Coterie leader, but Samael saw she was toying with him, so he wouldn't be a spoil-sport. On the other hand, the other two companions weren't enjoying themselves that much. Varric was running from a dozen of thugs, yammering
"Leave me aloooone!"
Aveline was no doubt at the end of her strength, and desperately needed help.
Samael looked at Merrill and an utterly crazy and absolutely excellent idea crystalized in his mind. He twitched his head in Aveline's direction and then he drew a trace across his wrist with his finger. Merrill's facial expression was priceless, but she seemed to understand Samael's hint and scuttled away.
Samael had no time to watch her, but judging by the waves of shrieking coming from the place where Aveline was fighting, Merrill had obeyed him and taken care of Aveline's butchers with blood magic. He dispatched Varric's relentless followers and then the battlefield fell into silence. Samael keeled over onto the crimson grass. He was too exhausted to stand. Varric whopped down next to him, humming a quiet melody to Bianca, stroking her. Isabela danced to them, grinning, although her left arm was pierced awfully. So the Coterie leader had some talents after all, Samael thought.
Aveline was semi-sitting in a blood pool as Merrill tried to do her best to heal what she could and ease the pain. It was time for the other half of Samael's plan.
He jumped up, sheathing his daggers, and stalked to them, trying to look furious.
"I warned you, you filthy blood mage. This is the very last time you use this foul magic!" He pushed Merrill up on her legs and jolted her out of the clearing, scolding her and yelling at her. Poor Merrill was utterly confused and opened her mouth in protest.
"But… but you told me…" She stammered, starting puling.
Samael hissed quietly "Shut up," before she ruined it all.
Varric, Aveline and Isabela watched their departure with open mouths. Varric, of course, had known for some time that something was going on with those two crazy kids. Isabela's face got a bit sour with a jealousy, understanding now why Samael had turned down her offers of sex sessions so many times. Only Aveline looked worried. She actually thought Samael intended to hang Merrill on the first tree he encountered. But her injuries seized most of her attention, so she was thinking more about getting to a healer rather than what Samael was doing right then with that poor Dalish girl.
Once they were out of sight the battlefield, Samael encircled Merrill in a surprisingly tender hug and the kiss that followed was completely worth putting up with Samael's boyish ruse. He didn't care that he had just forced Merrill to use blood magic. He didn't care their bond was apparently soaked with the blood – both literally and metaphorically. All that mattered to him was they were alive and they were together.
