Samael was bending over Merrill's sleeping figure. She was clean now, her wounds were mended, but that light shadow on her chin wouldn't let him forget his damnable deed.

He would love to linger there, but the longer he watched her, the weaker his determination to leave became. He swept a stray braid of her dark hair out of her face and left his hand there. He traced her tattoos with one quivering finger, trying to memorize even the tiniest detail of her face. She was so… so lovely. So pure. And he so didn't deserve her love. Deep in his mind Samael knew this… whatever this was, it couldn't last long. But what if… no. No. He had to let her go. Samael's life was spinning in a lethal vortex, and Merrill would be drawn into it eventually, and then the darkness that lingered there would devour her. She would be just as corrupt as he. She couldn't share his fate; Samael wasn't about to allow that.

A twig in the fireplace cracked and snapped, sending up a cascade of sparks. Samael twitched, the sound sending him back to reality. He kissed her lightly on her forehead, his face twisted in anguish. He leaned to her ear, whispering,

"Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo, my little pariah. Amin harmuva onalle e' cormamin ar gerich veleth nín. Amin hiraetha, Merrill. Namárië."

With these words, Samael left the room, leaning on the door he had closed behind him. He jabbed his fingernails into the polished wood as if hoping the door would open and she would be standing there. Samael was waiting for something, but he didn't know what. After a moment he turned around and ran up the stairs.

He had only a little time to pack up a small valise, to write a letter, where he intended to leave the mansion to Merrill and Bodahn, and vaporize into darkness. If he was lucky, he would be far away from Kirkwall with the first sunlight. He had no final destination yet, he just had to get out of Kirkwall. But he knew his steps would lead him to Fereldan eventually.

Samael dressed himself in inconspicuous black leather armor, black high boots made of fine drakeskin and matching gloves. His valise was light; he had in it nothing but a warm blanket, several big pouches of gold sovereigns, his lockpicks, poison making set and a broken silver mirror. After a moment of hesitation, he put the small wooden halla Merrill had given him inside, but he felt so silly about this pathetic gesture, he hid that little statuette in the blanket.

Samael hastily opened the upper drawer of the dresser and sheathed a new pair of Coterie shivs he had bought a month ago. He loved his black fox twin blades, but they were stuck in the wall somewhere in the bloody sewers and he had no time nor desire to look for them now. His gaze slipped at the silver knife with shell haft and this item migrated into the sack as well. Then he shrouded himself in a black woolen cloak, putting the hood up and hiding his easily recognizable long thick black hair. He rued that he couldn't do the same with his prominent black facial tattoos, but there was nothing he could do about them.

Samael wandered around his bedroom for one last time, then he snatched the valise and walked away with downcast eyes.

oOo

Merrill's eyes shot wide open and she threw away the blanket. A clouded silhouette without a face speaking elvish about love and forgiveness echoed in her confused mind. The feeling she had was very familiar. Like she knew she had to be somewhere, but she didn't know where nor when.

She swung her bare feet off the bed, looking around the room, trembling despite of purring flames in the fireplace. She only wore Samael's thin black tunic. She recognized Hawke's guest room and was puzzled why she wasn't in his bedroom like last time.

She stood up and strolled to fireplace, surprised that her body felt completely healed. She only had a tender spot on her belly where the rusty knife stabbed her and her chin… her chin…

Samael had hit her.

Merrill collapsed on the fur rug in front of the fireplace, tears filling her big eyes. She coiled up on herself; maybe if she stayed in this position long enough, she would wake up next to Samael again, he would make sweet love to her again, he would… she should… no.

His mother had died in his arms and she expected he was about to kill the murderer. She would gladly help him with that, if he had only asked her. But the whole situation had spun out of control. And he had hit her. With his fist. In her face.

"Surely he didn't mean to, he wasn't himself," the kind part of Merrill's mind said in understanding.

"That doesn't make it better, you know. He did punch us just like any other enemy. He's just as weak and treacherous as any other human." The Dalish pariah peered out of her hiding place.

"Yes, he did hit us but it wasn't like he had planned on doing that. He was in shock, his mother just died in the hands of some crazy mage!" The part of Merrill sitting on a love cloud fought for the happy ending to the last breath.

"So why isn't he here, if we're so determined to believe he loves us, hm?" Pariah smirked, leaving the other part speechless.

Merrill shook her head, confused and scared. What now? He did bring her here and she felt healing magic traces within her, so he still cared about her enough to get her a healer. But still… something was very wrong. He must feel awful about what had happened. So why wasn't he with her now? Apologizing, tending to her, showing her he still cared about her, that it was all a terrible mistake and he regretted his behavior. She didn't even know what had happened to the necromancer.

The wheels in Merrill's head were spinning as she considered a dozen possibilities about what was going on. And then it hit her.

Samael… was going to leave her. Leave Kirkwall. Never to come back. Never to see her again.

He had talked about this possibility several times and he always had a bit dreamy expression when he mentioned Lothering or Fereldan. Now she was able to see the truth. But how could she know if he was leaving without her because he loved her too much to drag her along, or not enough to take her with him? Well, she was not going to allow him to leave just like that. Without any explanation. She would stop him. Oh yes. Even if she had to bind him with blood magic. Of course the image of him knocking her out of his way wouldn't dissipate. But she also knew she would be able to forgive him eventually. She knew him well, she knew why he had done those scars to himself, she had figured out how lonely he had been all his life, knowing only responsibilities, blades, blood and pain. She knew he was… damaged, but she also knew she was too selfish to let him leave her. They had bound themselves to each other, and nobody had the right to break that bond, not even him.

With this final thought Merrill stopped staring into the fire. She stood up and opened the door leading to hall. Only several shortening candles were lighting the huge quiet space, but that worked for Merrill well enough. She mounted the stairs and puffed out with relief when she saw a dim light coming from the gap between the wooden floor and the door leading into Samael's bedroom. She heard a soft rustle inside and a scatty smile curled her lips. But what now? Hm… tricky, very tricky.

The Dalish pariah peeked at Merrill, rolling her eyes. "Let's think like Samael, silly girl."

"Right. Of course. Think like Samael. What?"

"Well we are not sure he's going to leave, are we? So we need to wait." Pariah said mischievously.

"Wait. Got it. Should I go back to my room then? It's a bit chilly here, you know."

"Stupid witch. How we have had survived this long in the city, I will never know. Find the best patrolling spot in the front room, drowned in the darkness. Let's just melt into shadows and observe. If he does show up, you can pull out a pathetic 'don't leave me scene' if you wish. If he doesn't, nobody will know and we can go back to sleep. Got it, or should I write it down for you?" Pariah was bored now and observing her long and sharp fingernails.

Merrill frowned after this internal warfare and started to think like Samael.

oOo

Merrill yawned and tried not to think about the heat of the fireplace and cozy bed in her room. She was almost resolved to turn in, when a shadow slipped voicelessly by her. It was most unexpected since she heard nothing before. No door slam, no floor creak, no leather squeak, no nothing. But there he was, dressed for traveling, hooded, with a small valise straddling his shoulder. His cloak was buckled showing two peaks on his back and she was sure he had his daggers sheathed there. And probably a dozen other weapons hidden around his body.

Merrill was getting furious and her eyes narrowed. He really had decided to leave her. Without a word. Just like that. No apology for what he had done. Samael was about to open the heavy double winged door leading outside when she let him know she was there.

"Coward!"

Samael whirled around, he had a long sinuous blade in his right hand; his left hand was in his shroud, holding the haft of another weapon no doubt.

Merrill stayed motionless, but her eyes spluttered with rage, and there was an eternal sorrow in her eyes as well.

Oh, shit and double shit! That woman should really learn when to wake up! Last time she did this, she had witnessed his emotional outburst ended by his impressive knife and cutting stunt. And now this! Samael thought to himself, unable to move, considering his possibilities.

But right after she spoke, he knew he was doomed and his escape plan had failed entirely. She was not going to let him leave. He would never, ever, never admit that, but a part of him was tingling with happiness that she cared enough to stop him. Even after all that he had done to her. But she didn't understand. If she stayed with him, she would end up dead sooner or later, like everybody else around him. She had almost died for him once already, not counting many battles he had dragged her into.

Merrill interrupted his chain of thought when she rushed him, kissing him hungrily, pushing down that damn hood. When she was done with him she threw him back and stepped back herself. Samael was panting and Maker! he was horny. Merrill was watching his upset face and his poor attempt to calm himself down. Only she could knock him of the balance like that. She saw a mild grin no his face and knew she had won. She felt like teasing him a bit though.

"Don't you dare think I forgive you that punch, you silly assassin."

It worked, since Samael's face darkened immediately. He closed his eyes and lowered his head in guilt. This reaction told Merrill how gravely he regretted his mad deed, and that was enough for now. He had told her he wouldn't apologize for anything and she accepted that, but this mute gesture was more than any long and voluble apology.

"But I might be persuaded to do so in the future." Merrill added, half smiling at him.

Samael didn't smile back. He saw the pain he had caused in her eyes and he started pacing through the room, running his gloved hands through his hair.

"You don't understand, Merrill! I have to go. I have to leave this place. And you can't go with me. Nobody can. I've pushed all my companions beyond the bearable point, including you. If I stay here, I would doom us all eventually. And I would have to come for that bastard into the Gallows and finish him off no matter the cost. It would be a suicidal mission, and nobody can predict how it would end. And I certainly wouldn't allow you to…"

"Oh, stop telling me, what I am supposed to think or feel or do, you arrogant human! You are NOT alone in everything now. Don't you ever forget that." Merrill was now pacing as well and her words were filled with wrath and uneasiness. But Merrill wasn't done yet.

"Oh yes, I know, poor Samael had a difficult life and the simplest thing to do is to run, right? Well, surprise, you egoistic rogue, you are not the only one with a crappy life! Now go upstairs and unpack that ridiculous valise of yours and… and…" Merrill' distraught voice cracked and a single silver tear fell down her cheek. She swept it straight away.

Samael watched her for a minute, his eyebrow was warping and his hands were trembling in internal struggle. The valise hit the parquetry with a gassy thud. He closed the distance between them and gathered her in his arms. He held her tight for a long time, and their kiss sealed their reunion. Merrill threw in one last comment; she just couldn't resist.

"…and if you ever try to run away from me without a single word again, I swear, I will kill you."

All right, that sounded more menacing than she intended, but Samael grinned; he had no problem with her statement.

"You would be welcome to try, witch."

He swept her off her feet and headed for the bedroom.

oOo

"Are you sure about this?" Samael was watching Merrill with badly hidden disquiet.

They've been making love for the rest of the night and the dawn was near, sending a dim purple light into the bedroom. Samael tried hard to be a tender lover this time, but Gods, that woman was wild and insatiable! The feathers from ripped pillows were sprawling all around the bedroom and all the things from the top of the dresser were swept away on the carpet to make some… space, when the bed wasn't sufficient anymore.

"Samael, I need to be able to find you if something goes wrong at the Gallows and my blood is essential for our plan as well, so yes, I'm sure about this."

The assassin didn't reply, he just sighed and stood in front of Merrill who was sitting on the bed with crossed legs. He pulled down the left side of his loose white britches. Merrill hesitated for a second, wondering, why he insisted on drawing blood from one of his scars. He wasn't furious or desperate, was he? Samael seemed to understand her reluctance and said softly, "You can heal that afterwards, if you wish."

Merrill nodded in relief, then pulled out a small blade from the bedside table and glanced up at him once again, simpering. She prepared a vial and drew the knife across the second scar from the bottom. Samael's head slumped over and he let out a dark growl, half pain, half pleasure.

Merrill noticed he was hard again and felt her desire rising as well, but she slapped herself mentally; there was work to be done now.

Merrill filled the vial with the dark crimson fluid and placed her left hand onto the scar to heal the wound. She let her other hand travel across the assassin's abdomen, pawing him shamelessly. Samael awoke from his sweet inebriety and sank down next to Merrill, handing her the other vial. He assumed she would fill it on her own with her blood, having enough experience of this during her blood magic rituals. But to his surprise Merrill drew apart the silk bathrobe and lay down, handing him the blade. Samael caught her wicked, yet a bit coy smile.

Maker, were all virgins so horny all the time? Of course they were.

Samael examined her creamy skin and slender curves, forgetting about the task ahead. Hmm, the little witch wanted to play dangerous games again. Who was he to deny such an incendiary request?

Samael lay down next to her, supporting himself on an elbow, and drew the hilt of the blade across her belly, climbing to her neck. He flipped the blade imperceptibly in his hand and Merrill felt the cold touch of steel on her neck. Samael noticed her quickened breathing and the neck artery pulsed beneath the sharp blade seductively. He let the blade slide down a bit, stopping at her left breast. He tasted her pink nipple and cut the blade through her skin at the same time. Merrill cried out and clenched his hair with both hands. The sensation was… bewildering. It represented their whole bond; a passion, a pain, despair and pleasure.

Samael licked her lips softly, kissing her and Merrill could taste a faint tang of her blood on his tongue. The vial was full and Samael whispered

"Heal that."

"No" was her shy reply.

Samael was stunned by her quick statement, trying to figure out, why would she want another scar on her body inflicted by him. He cocked his head and looked puzzled. Merrill felt obligated to explain,

"I want… I need something of yours with me. On me. I mean…" Merrill's voice faded.

Samael raised an eyebrow, trying to understand her need. Then it came to him. He couldn't resist taking that silly wooden statuette with him either, when he thought he was leaving Kirkwall for good. But this was… just bad.

"Heal that and I might consider presenting you with a gift, my little pariah."

Samael kissed her fingers and placed them on the wound. The blood was still oozing out of it, staining the bathrobe and dripping on the white rumpled sheets.

Merrill watched him with her lucid wide eyes, considering his unexpected offer and searching his eyes which were blazing in amber shades. She didn't reply, but after a minute her hand sparkled and the wound was slowly mended.

A roguish grin twisted Samael's lips, and he let his hands to play with her body again. Oh no, the game wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot.