Sorry for the update time! I was out of town for my sister's graduation, and had many issues with travel, including a fantastic bout of airsickness.

Warnings: language (of course), Leandra death, angst, and cliffhanger


A wave of telekinetic energy lifts Quentin into the air and slams him to the ground at Garrett's feet, broken limbs incapable of fight or flight. He digs his sword into the blood mage's chest and twists the blade just as flames rupture from the mage's bleeding body.

His mother staggers, the sick half-light of her eyes fading. He and Marian sprint to catch her but he is closer and she crumples in his arms, staring between their faces. Her shoulders are too broad, an awkward new angle when he holds her, and when she lifts a hand to touch Marian's cheek, he can see the wrists and fingers are too long and slim, the skin paler than their mother's faint tan from working in the garden.

"I love both of you as if you were my own," she whispers. "Take care of each other. You're all either of you has. Never forget that."

Garrett can't look at his sister's face, at the tears he knows must be running down, but he can't stand to see his mother like this—her face already growing papery, ashen to the point that her skin looks gray, and that line on her throat. He shuts his eyes and lowers his head. "I should have paid more attention," he whispers. "I should have known better."

Marian shakes her head. "No," she says, in a fierce voice that borders on hysteria, "I can fix this. I can fix this." She repeats it over and over, shaking her head until he wants to shove her away. Even after Leandra takes that last sighing breath and goes limp, his sister keeps muttering.

He stares at the open, dead eyes, the film settled over them already, unseeing gray that reflects his face back.

Garrett's eyes snap open and he gasps as he wakes up. Merrill sleeps on, her lovely face more innocent and pure, tiny snores emanating from her delicate mouth. He brushes his hand against her cheek and disentangles their limbs, careful not to wake her as he slips first out of the bed, then out of the room.

His feet make no sound as he wanders over the plush red carpets and out to the back garden, now abloom with flowers in the eighteen months that Merrill has lived with him. The plants glow in the moonlight and all the world seems still, as if nothing can move or breathe in this moment but him.

Almost two months since that dissatisfying funeral and he's been having nightmares about her death ever since. Merrill stands by him, offering silent support and a kind ear or gentle advice and sentiments of love. He doesn't know how he'd survive without her, if he didn't have her sweet eyes watching him and her soft fingers reaching out to grip his arm or hold his hand or touch his cheek. She's endured furious tirades against blood magic and helpless weeping, and through it all she's kept the house running with the help of Bodahn and Orana.

He walks through the garden, poking at the plants and remembering how he would watch his mother and Merrill talking in the garden, laughing as they watered and arranged flowers.

Merrill has kept the Arulin'holm out of sight and conversation, even when Marian returns drunk from the Hanged Man and tries to start fights with either of them about it. Every time it happens, Garrett watches her shouts disintegrate to sobs when Fenris comes chasing her from Lowtown, too numb and shaken to comfort his sister.

Some days he goes into Leandra's room to lie on her bed and smell the pillows, which have that lavender scent of her soap and the faint hint of gardening dirt and the Andraste's Grace flowers that Orana lined her closet with. Some days he and his sister sit at breakfast in silence refusing to look at their mother's empty chair, until tears run down both their faces. Some days they fight, screaming at one another in the main hall until Merrill and Fenris intervene. Once he punched Fenris and almost got electrocuted by Marian for it. Twice now Marian has said horrifying things to Merrill about being a manipulating blood mage whore, and once she even tried to slap the Dalish elf.

Tensions are high; Marian refuses to return to the Dalish clan because of their mother's dying wish, while at the same time she spends night after night trying to drink away any semblance of humanity. Garrett, on the other hand, has flung himself into Kirkwall's problems, helping everyone from the Viscount and Aveline with Raiders on the Wounded Coast and the gangs resurfacing throughout Kirkwall to returning lost items to random people for a few coins. The only thing Marian seems interested in doing to help the city is to deal with the Arishok and the religious zealots springing up on every side to attack Qunari. Just as Garrett and his sister are ready to explode, the entire city of Kirkwall is holding its breath, ready for war with the Qunari.

Just a few months ago his life seemed simple, even beautiful. Garrett sighs as he reaches the patch of lavender, inhaling the scent. He reaches down to crush one of the feathery stalks in his fingers, sharpening the odor as he draws it toward his face.

"Garrett?"

He turns, startled, to see Merrill standing in the doorway, her face illuminated by the moon, her soft dark hair loose around her shoulders. A silky white robe shivers in the breeze around her slender form, held shut by her folded arms.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, walking toward her with one hand outstretched. The fingers of his other hand curl shut and his fist twists at his side to conceal the lavender in his palm. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Her green eyes sparkle as he touches her cheek and slides his fingers through her hair. "I was worried about you," she murmurs, turning to kiss the inside of his wrist. "I woke up and you were gone, and I didn't know where you were."

"You found me," he answers, trying to smile. His cheeks ache and it feels stupid, like nonsense. He wraps his arms around her, letting the flakes of crushed lavender fall to the ground behind her.

"Oh, Garrett," she whispers, nestling her cheek against his shoulder. She hugs his waist and he feels her shivering. He can't tell if it's cold or something else. "I hope I have found you. I love you. I'll wait as long as you need. But I miss you."

He blinks at the stinging of his eyes and tightens his grip on her. "Let's go back to bed," he says. Her fingers wrap through his and she leads him back through the house. As they reach their bedroom door he stops her, pausing to cup her cheek in his palm. He stares into her eyes and says, "I love you, too, Merrill."


Garrett takes a flying leap and slams his sword down, cleaving the crazed Templar Varnell in half. He glances around to see that Merrill has summoned vines from the disgusting Darktown floor that snap men away from her with poison barbs. In a different corner he sees his sister slam the butt of her staff into one man's chin as lightning crashes into another, arcing into two of his compatriots. Fenris swings his greatsword like a baseball bat, tearing through a small cluster of religious nutjobs.

The last peasants try to run off and Marian's head whips toward them. Like chess pieces being lifted by a giant hand, telekinetic force snatches them into the air. They hover for a second, helpless bodies writhing, before the same invisible energy hammers them down so hard and fast that they burst in showers of bone and blood. Flecks of gore splash his face and Garrett stares from the magical massacre he just witnessed to his sister, standing motionless with her jaw taut.

He recognizes that spell as the same one she used on Quentin, the lift-and-slam that put their mother's murderer at his feet. For the first time, Garrett wonders if she left the mage alive so he could have the satisfaction of killing him, or because she meant for him to die in the same slow, torturous way he killed Leandra.

"We need to get the Viscount," Marian says, in the cold voice he remembers her using twice in their previous lives. It sent shivers down his spine then, and considering her power now, Garrett's blood runs cold to hear it.

Merrill steps to his side, already bandaging her arm where she slit it to enhance her spells' power. He wraps an arm around her, numb as he watches Fenris embrace Marian and the two of them disappear in a flash of white light. For a long second he closes his eyes, trying not to think of how the smell of blood and Darktown and magic reminds him of Quentin's lair. Dizzy, he rocks forward and back on his feet, swaying in the dark as he refuses to look at the carnage strewn in the cellar.

"We ought to move the bodies into a better order, to show respect," Merrill suggests after a long minute. He opens his eyes and looks at her, seeing the concern glinting as she gazes up at him.

"No," he shakes his head. "Let the Viscount and the Guards see how it happened, how the Qunari delegates were bound. And how the mob attacked us and murdered them."

She nods and he can feel her shoulders tremble under his arm. After a second of digesting his own words, Garrett draws the elf girl into a hug, tucking her head under his chin and holding her for a long moment. Neither one speaks, both horrified at the carnage and purposeless as the others get the Viscount.

They wait for several minutes before Kirkwall's ruler arrives, his blue eyes horrified as Marian indicates the corpses with a grim expression. He shakes his head and confers with her and Fenris in a low voice, and Garrett feels even more useless, standing across the room with Merrill as his sister handles things.

Aveline arrives a few minutes later with her guards, her jaw tightening as she sees the mess. She joins Marian and the Viscount and after a moment the men start gathering up the bodies of the Qunari, pausing only to cut their bonds and close the dead, staring eyes.

The Guard Captain walks over to Garrett as he watches the grisly work with Merrill, standing beside the couple with her arms crossed. "I can't believe this mess," she mutters. "The Arishok will be furious."

"He is very grumpy," Merrill agrees, slipping out of Garrett's arms but leaving her fingers tangled with his as Aveline approaches. "But the Qunari do seem rather grumpy most of the time."

Garrett can't help laughing at her observation. The sound rings too loud in the room and everyone stares at him for a second. He feels his face flush and looks down. Merrill squeezes his hand and he glances at her to see a small smile on her delicate lips.

"I just hope Marian and Fenris can keep him from attacking the city," Aveline continues after a sidelong look. "You know, she could use your help in this."

"They seem like they've got things under control," he answers, bitterness seeping into his voice.

The redhead narrows her eyes at him for a moment. "You can see that isn't true. She's on the brink of breaking down, and you're not far behind," she says, her tone growing stern. "That's how these bloody zealots managed to creep up before either of you could root them out and prevent this from happening."

He blinks as Aveline turns on her heel and marches out behind her men without another glance at either of them. The Viscount joins the Guards and Marian stares across the room when the four of them are alone.

"What the fuck, Garrett?" she demands. "You're laughing about this shit? What's wrong with you?"

"You don't know what I was laughing about, Marian, so just leave me alone," he snaps. "Maybe if you'd put the bottle down once in a while, these psychos wouldn't have murdered a fucking peace delegation."

She steps closer, in his face now, and the illusion of her medieval appearance disappears without the Viscount to witness it. He hates that she can't embrace their new world and try to blend in, but he also wishes he could have his old appearance back.

"Maybe if you tried to help out with what matters instead of wasting your time helping the blood mage fix a portal to demon-land," she sneers.

Garrett grips Merrill's hand. "Come on," he says, "Let's go." He half drags her out of the smelly, dirty cavern, leaving his sister and her boyfriend in the middle of a room full of the bodies they killed.

They hike through the dark city in silence, but Garrett can feel Merrill's questioning gaze on the side of his face the whole time. How she can be so stoic and stable never ceases to amaze him and he resolves to tell her so in every way he can as they step inside, but Marian waits in the front hall for them with her arms crossed.

"Garrett, you and I need to talk," she says, in that same hard voice she announced that they needed to get the Viscount. His hair stands on end and he feels cold all over.

"I'll be in the bedroom," Merrill whispers, planting a kiss on his cheek and squeezing his hand a last time before she drifts up the stairs.

"What do you want?" he sighs, staring at his sister.

"A truce," she answers. "We can't keep this bullshit up. We keep fighting about the same things and getting nowhere. Now this has happened and for all we know it's gonna send the Arishok over the edge. And you're right. That's the fucking thing, Garrett. I hate you for it, but you're right. If we didn't have our heads so far up our own asses, this wouldn't have happened tonight."

He deflates, his shoulders hunching. Suddenly he feels weak and tired, as if the bones in his body have turned to jell-o. "So what are we supposed to do?" he asks, covering his eyes with a hand for a moment and then shoving his fingers back through his hair. "What happens if he does attack?"

"We fight," she answers, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. She takes a long breath and looks in his eyes. "I'm sorry about what I said to Merrill. But… you guys need to just smash that thing to pieces. It won't get you home."

Garrett steps closer and folds his arms. "How do you know? It doesn't even work."

She just shakes her head and walks up the stairs. When she reaches her door she turns, tossing her hair over her shoulder and says, "I know where it leads because I actually looked."

He frowns and moves toward his room when her door clicks shut, mulling over her words until he steps inside his chambers and sees what awaits him. Merrill sits on the bench by the washbasin, scrubbing blood off her cheeks and arms, her slender back hunched over her long legs, feet submerged in the water. Garrett smiles at the sight of her bare skin and shuts his door behind him.


Garrett and Merrill eat breakfast by themselves the next morning and she excuses herself afterward to go down to the Alienage. He wanders around the house without aim, eventually finding his way to the courtyard to practice sparring against a dummy.

He beats on the mannequin with his sword, hacking it with a series of slashes, slices, and hammering strikes. An hour goes by as sweat gathers on his face and runs down his back, but he doesn't stop, practicing intricate footwork and throwing more and more force into each blow.

When he gets back inside, his shirt draped over his shoulder, he sees a letter on the desk addressed to 'Hawke' and scoops it up. He tears it open and scans the contents, not bothering to read the salutation as the words sink in. The Viscount is panicking, summoning him (or his sister) to the Keep for an urgent problem.

As he re-reads the letter the front door bangs open and he startles, turning to see Fenris sprinting in at top speed. The elf skids to a stop in front of Garrett and stares at him with fury and panic in his gaze.

"Where is she?" Fenris demands, his chest heaving under his armor. "Where is Marian?"

Garrett frowns. "What do you mean?" he asks. "Didn't she go with you to talk to the Arishok this morning?"

The elf man compresses his mouth into a flat line. "We have already spoken. The Arishok said he will not deal with her and her failures anymore and when we were walking out of the camp, she disappeared. Teleported," he explains, "Without me."

"What do you mean, the Arishok won't deal with her anymore?" Garrett asks, his heart pounding. He grabs Fenris' shoulders, the letter crumpling against the spikes, and he doesn't care. "Is he attacking? Did he take her?"

"No," Fenris shakes his head and jerks out of Garrett's grasp. "He said she smelled as if she was—"

A second later Marian materializes in front of them with a flash of bright white light and a breeze as the air shifts to make room for her. She stares with dazed eyes and collapses on the carpet.