Yay! Chapter 10! And as promised, a special surprise for all you loyal and oh-so-patient readers!
ART! mrbeavis19 . deviantart . com/#/d4pbi1j (remove spaces... -_- stupid FF)
That's the first time I've ever done any painting, so just keep that in mind haha. Hope you like it and this shiny new chapter I wrote for all of you! :D
Also, if you've read Lyralocke's Of Cream and Salt and Wild Strawberries, a certain part of this might sound a little familiar. Couldn't help myself haha. If not, you should read it, Kataang fan or not, it's a cute story.
Ok, I'll stop rambling and let you get to the chapter.
Enjoy!
Chapter 10
Hawke sat in the dimly lit cave, holding Merrill as close as he could with his uninjured arm. Her quiet crying eventually subsided, but she made no effort to stand or move away from Hawke. He gently stroked her arm, enjoying the closeness despite their situation. His right arm was limp at his side, shattered from the previous battle, but he didn't care. Merrill was safe.
For now.
Much as he would've liked to forget the problems of the outside world and just stay in this moment forever with her, Hawke knew they would have to go back outside...and the clan would not be happy when they found out what had happened.
"Merrill. I know this isn't what you want to hear right now, but we need to leave soon." Hawke said, rubbing her arm. "The Keeper is dead and the clan isn't exactly the most...understanding group I've ever met."
"Hawke?" She whispered, head still resting on the crimson cloth wrapped around his chestplate.
"Yeah?"
"Can you forgive me?" She looked up into his eyes.
Hawke returned her gaze. "The last few days have been the hardest of my life. I've never felt so lost. Merrill, you're my anchor and without you to keep me sane, I'd become a monster. I can't live without you." He smiled and leaned his head down. She arched her neck and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, bringing her lips up to meet his. He tightened his one-armed grip around her waist, savoring her taste. It was a mix of what he assumed was wildberries and mint. And her scent. A fresh breeze in a field of flowers. He was overtaken by an urge to hold on and never let go. He didn't want this to end.
He tried to convey all his emotions in that one kiss. After a few minutes, Merrill hadn't pulled away, in fact, she had put as much passion into the kiss as Hawke was. She ran her hands through his hair, stopping behind his head, pulling him even tighter against her. Hawke felt like she got his message, smiling inwardly to himself. When they finally came apart, Merrill looked at Hawke with a scrutinizing look.
"I don't think you'd make a very good monster." Merrill smiled and hugged him tight.
Hawke just smiled at her.
"You're too nice." She chimed. "And I don't imagine monsters taste like honey and cream...or smell like a rainstorm." She looked up, smiling and taking a deep breath. "I love you." She reached up and pecked him on the lips again.
Those three words had never sounded sweeter to Hawke. He also couldn't help but muse over her observations. Sometimes he was certain she could read his mind. He looked down into her eyes, those beautiful deep green eyes. "I love you too." He said with a grin and another kiss.
She pulled her head back and looked toward The Keeper as if she had just remembered, her expression changing to sadness and remorse. "I need to tell them what's happened. Someone needs to come...take care of her." Merrill said quietly, a few tears in her eyes.
"Let's go." Hawke said, letting go of Merrill and grabbing his sword to prop himself up. He grimaced as he picked himself up off the ground, his right arm shifting. He felt he might pass out if he moved too quickly. He took a deep breath and managed to get to his feet.
"Let me have a look." Merrill cooed as she reached for his arm. The gauntlet held the forearm mostly in place, but moving it still hurt. "I'm sorry Hawke, but I'm going to have to take the gauntlet off to get a better look." Merrill said, her face expressing her discomfort with causing him more pain.
"Do what you have to." Hawke said as he grabbed one of the leather straps of his shoulder armor and bit down on it.
Merrill unstrapped the gauntlet and removed it and the mail beneath it as quickly and smoothly as she could. Hawke grunted in pain as the mail slid off. Merrill looked down with an expression of mild horror as she saw the bone protruding from Hawke's arm. Hawke remembered Anders having to set his ribs when he broke them, so he knew what was coming. He closed his eyes and ground his teeth into the leather. Merrill looked up, a sort of apologetic remorse in her eyes. Hawke nodded to her and she gave his wrist a quick tug and the bone returned to its place beneath the skin. Hawke let out a muffled roar as his broken bones ground together in his arm.
"Shhhh its ok...I'll take care of you" Merrill said gently, reaching up and stroking Hawke's cheek. She returned to work, her hands beginning to glow like Anders's as she held them over Hawke's forearm. Hawke could feel the bones fusing back together as Merrill worked. The sharp pains eventually subsided and were replaced with a dull ache. Hawke looked down to see the wound closed and his arm straightened, looking good as new.
He leaned down and kissed Merrill. "I love that you know how to do that."
"And I love that you didn't make a fuss about me helping you this time." Merrill smirked as she handed Hawke his mail and gauntlet.
Hawke just grinned and put his armor back in place. He grabbed his sword and sheathed it on his back. He turned and put his arm around Merrill, leading her out of the cave. As they reached the steps, Merrill spared a final backwards glance at Marethari before they left.
The sun shone down as the couple exited the cave. The rays of light, partially obscured by the peaks of Sundermount, cast an odd shadow over the cave's entrance. Hawke stepped out and admired the stark contrast between the two halves of the ground outside the cave, split almost perfectly between light and dark. There was no boundary between the two, merely the jagged edges where they met, matched up perfectly to one another, like two pieces of a puzzle. As the sun continued its slow descent to the horizon, Hawke noticed the shadow of the mountain growing. Darkness pushing back the light as its source slowly vanished. He turned to look at Merrill. She smiled up at him lovingly and he couldn't help smiling back.
He still had his source.
"Where is Marethari?"
Hawke's attention shot to the group of well-armed elves approaching them from the mountain path.
"Fenarel-" Merrill began.
"We know she came up here with you, where is she?" He demanded, taking a few steps towards the cave, looking back and forth between it and Merrill.
"Just look at her, she's covered in blood." an elven woman standing at the head of the group by the path sneered.
"What have you done Merrill? Where is The Keeper?" Fenarel's voice lowered, his gaze focused murderously upon her. He took a step and began to reach for his sword.
In a flash, the tip of Hawke's greatsword was against his throat. The elf looked up at him, furiously, as if daring him to kill him. If Merrill hadn't been there, he probably would have, but he kept his cool, staring at the elf and merely shaking his head, betraying none of the anger slowly beginning to boil within him. It wasMarethari's fault she was dead. Hawke was still silently grateful that Merrill hadn't been able to deal with the demon, or "become its first victim", but Marethari had brought her death upon herself.
"She's dead." Merrill whimpered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
She had chosen to die. And Hawke could already tell these elves had come, suspicious and ready to fight. Regardless of what had happened in there, Marethari's willful death or no, Hawke knew they would have a fight on their hands.
The elf woman's face contorted in anger. "I should have known you'd turn on her, you...monster!" She spat, drawing her daggers.
"She turned into a demon." Hawke said calmly, his eyes still fixed on Fenarel. "I'd say that adds her to the list of things that are okay to kill, wouldn't you?"
"There never would have been a demon if it weren't for this flat-eared bitch!" The woman screamed.
The other elves drew their weapons. Fenarel began to circle away from Merrill and the cave, Hawke's blade still at his throat, until his back was to his companions. "We've suffered enough because of this traitor." Right as the words left his mouth, he jumped back and struck the flat of the sword, knocking it away from him and giving him a chance to draw his own sword and shield.
Hawke stepped in front of Merrill, sword pointed. He just got her back and he'd be damned if these fools were going to take her away from him.
Fenarel glared at Hawke and surged forward. Hawke swept his blade diagonally, aiming for the elf's sword arm. Fenarel smashed his shield against the greatsword, stopping the attack and leaving Hawke open. As Fenarel brought his sword back to swing, Hawke turned to him and delivered a straight kick to his chest, sending him stumbling backwards. Hawke took advantage and cleaved at Fenarel again. The elf was quick to regain his footing though and got his shield up in time to parry the blow.
The elven woman went to attack Hawke, but as she went to jump down from the ledge, she found her feet bound by thorny vines, shooting from the ground and encircling her. She cried out as they tore at any skin unprotected by her leather armor and began hacking away with her daggers. Merrill, having temporarily incapacitated the woman, turned her attention to the hunters, readying their bows. She whirled her staff over her head, then brought it into the ground, sending a tremor through the ground up towards the hunters. As it neared them, three columns of earth shot from the ground and smashed each of them in the torso, breaking a few ribs and sending them to the ground. As she turned to assist Hawke, she felt a shift in the air behind her, followed by a sharp pinch. She looked down and saw the tip of a dagger protruding from her shoulder. The pain struck her like a white-hot lance. She cried out in agony and fell to the ground, clutching her shoulder.
Hawke smashed Fenarel in the face with the hilt of his sword and turned around to see an elf woman with silver hair plunge a dagger into Merrill's shoulder blade. He roared in anger and spun around, sword outstretched. Fenarel, charging at Hawke again, just as expected caught the brunt of the blow on his shield. The wooden shield, made of Ilen's famed ironbark, shattered into pieces, sending shrapnel flying. One piece caught an approaching Dalish warrior in the eye, blinding him as he fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Hawke felt the bones in Fenarel's forearm shatter as the sword smashed into the shield. To the warrior's credit, he barely cried out in pain before lunging at Hawke again. Hawke had no time to admire his bravery though. As the sword came at his face, Hawke brought the hilt of his sword up past his head, leaving the tip dragging on the ground. As Fenarel's attack glanced off his sword, Hawke slashed upwards, catching the underside of Fenarel's sword arm. As he stumbled forward, dropping his sword to the ground, Hawke slashed the back of his knees. Fenarel collapsed to the ground, unable to move his arms or legs. Hawke turned and hurled his sword at the woman about to plunge her dagger into Merrill's back again and finish her off.
Merrill looked up to see Hawke's sword whirling towards her...and the grimace of rage that she unmistakably recognized upon Hawke's face. Here she lay, on the ground, bleeding...again. And because of her, Hawke just might lose it again. He couldn't stand to see her injured. Just as she couldn't bear to see him in pain. She understood that. He loved her. And she loved him. She just hated to be the reason he lost control and allowed whatever horrible force it was within him to take over. That he needed to hurt himself in order to save her. She shed a tear and looked up at him again, expecting something to happen any second now. She hadn't seen him when he was in that state before, so she wasn't sure what she was looking for. The one time he told her it had happened, she'd been unconscious. Would his eyes glow? Would he turn into some big monster? Would there be any sort of magic surrounding him? She heard a sickening crunch behind her and she imagined that whoever had stabbed her no longer drew breath. But as she looked up at him, all she saw was...Hawke, his face turning instantly from rage to concern as she saw him look down at her and start running to her side. No glowing, no monster, no magic, just Hawke.
He slid to the ground by her side, wrapping his arms around her. "Merrill!" He could feel her breathing and heard a weak groan of pain as she reached up to touch his face.
"You're...still you." She said, between labored breaths.
Hawke smiled down at her. Here she was, stabbed in the back and bleeding and she had been worried about him. A tear rolled down his cheek and he held her closer, kissing her on the forehead. "I'm still me."
He looked at the wound in her shoulder. It was about two inches wide, through and through. "Can you fix this yourself or do you need my help?" He asked her, concern growing as he saw the pool of blood where she had been doubled over.
"I...I think I can close the wound" She reached to her shoulder and her hand glowed, sealing the skin and stopping the bleeding, but the skin looked dark and purple like she had a nasty bruise. "I'll need Ander's help to fix the muscle and bone though. I'm too tired." She grimaced as she tried to move her arm.
Hawke helped her to her feet and retrieved his sword. She looked over, expecting a corpse, but was surprised to see the elf woman laying on the ground, clutching her jaw, moaning in pain. At her quizzical expression, Hawke tapped the hilt of his sword. She didn't know if it was intentional or not, but she was glad he hadn't killed any of her clan. She smiled at him.
Hawke sheathed his sword and put his arm around her. They walked past the groaning warriors and made their way down the mountain path to the Dalish camp. As they came to the bottom, Hawke saw Ilen and the others gathered around, speaking to one another in a frenzy. They sounded angry. And as Hawke and Merrill got closer, he realized they were all armed.
"You!" Ilen yelled, turning and marching towards them, the angry elven mob at his heels.
Hawke continued walking right up to the group, stopping a few feet from Ilen, his arm still around Merrill's waist. "Can I help you?"
Ilen glared at him then turned his attention to Merrill. "Where's the Keeper?" He demanded.
"Ilen, she...I...we had to-"
"Spit it out! Where is she? Where are the others we sent to find you?" Ilen barked.
"Find us? Are you sure that's all you told them to do?" Hawke's cold gaze set on Ilen.
"What? They tried to...then that means..." Ilen trailed off, then seemed to snap back into it, drawing his sword and shield. "WHAT DID YOU DO?" He yelled at Merrill.
"I didn't mean to-" Merrill said meekly.
Ilen roared and lunged forward, but before he knew what hit him, Hawke's fist had smashed into his face, knocking him to the ground. Hawke reached down and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him into the air. Hawke kept his grip just tight enough to keep him quiet, but loose enough to allow him the oxygen he needed to stay conscious.
"Merrill freed me from my prison! That foolish old elf tried to stop me!" Hawke roared, trying to sound as possessed as he possibly could. "Your Keeper is dead!" he bellowed. "Your hunters are dead! And unless all of you wish to die, you will lay down your arms! And if you know what's good for you, you will collect your dead and leave! You will leave this place far behind! And you will never return!" Hawke maintained his grip on Ilen, hoping his bluff had been convincing enough. He saw fear in their eyes, but they hadn't dropped their weapons. Hawke smashed Ilen into the ground, keeping a hand on his throat. "Drop your weapons or I'll tear him to pieces!" Ilen let out a choked cough and a groan. Slowly the elves began to place their weapons on the ground. Hawke released Ilen, who grabbed his neck and rolled over coughing and gasping for breath.
Hawke took Merrill's hand and lead her through the group, keeping a scowl on his face. As they reached the outskirts of the camp. Merrill turned back to look at her former clan one last time. "Why did you do that?" She asked, looking up at Hawke.
"I didn't want to hurt anyone else." Hawke said simply. "Ilen will be fine, they'll go up and gather the hunters, and hopefully, they'll leave." He looked across the camp to the group of elves as they gathered around Ilen. "They're misguided, not evil. They didn't deserve to die." He looked back at Merrill.
"Thank you." She said, standing on her tiptoes and kissing him.
"No, thank you. Without you there, I might have killed them all. You kept the monster at bay." He said, smiling at her.
She smiled back, happy she was now also the deterrent for his darkness and not just the trigger. She hugged him and they began walking back to Kirkwall.
"Let's go get you fixed up."
