Chapter Twelve
Thicker than Blood
The camp was quiet as usual, the hunters are guarding both entrances as members of the clan were doing their routines, from the keepers of the halla were being cared for, their aravels being repaired for travel and items, clothes and other essentials being repaired or replaced. Marethari was in her tent , meditating as she listened to the spirits.
The days have been dark these past few months, humans have become more impatient with the elves "over staying" their welcome, and more than once did the clan had to repel their haters with more than words. Many of the hunters and warriors were growing tense, many of them were complaining of the unneeded reminder of the humans and were outraged by Marethari's order to not engage.
She knew their frustration, herself she wished she could remove the humans and be done with such. Though the consequences would be disastrous, for every elf there's always ten more humans. It was time to move on, the clan had no other reason to remain here since the deal with the witch. Yet one of their own still remains outside the clan.
She sighed heavily at the thoughts of Merrill within the city filled with shem and templars, her only hope was Hawke keeping a close eye on her. The human was a unique one, honesty and kindness unlike any other shem she'd encountered. Merrill may be in good hands but that mirror may very well be the end of her.
'Keeper?'. She turned her head to see Lithen, her First, peeking through the flaps of her tent. Her amber eyes were lit with worry. 'We, you may want to see this', she spoke. The keeper followed her out of her tent as she led her to a gathering of elves. Within the circle of hunters, crafters and others, she found a single elf standing.
He stood tall, arms folded clam and patiently, wearing a long black cloak that covered his body and head, save for his chin. 'He wouldn't give his name. He said he'd only speak with you', she said worryingly. The keeper approached him as the hunters readied their weapons to protect her, though many of them knew she was far more than capable of defending herself.
'Greetings Keeper Marethari', he spoke, his accent very similar to the dalish of the north, heavy and strong. He was an elf judging by height and speech, clear and graceful. 'What clan do you hail from Da'len?', she asked. He merely shrugged his shoulders in response. 'None, my own was destroyed by templars a year ago', he said.
'I was once a member of the Alerion clan in Nevarra', he said. Marethari's brows furrowed, the name was familiar to her though she couldn't figure out why. 'When I learned clan Sabre was here, I was hoping to visit an old face once again'. Once more confusion was the theme the keeper was seeing as she was unable to recall anyone who had family outside of this clan, not that is was uncommon for an elf to be taken in to another clan, but she couldn't-
Then, her eyes widened with realization. The stranger's lips formed a smirk of knowing. 'You remember don't you…thief'. Within seconds two of the hunters drew their swords and attacked the insulter. Before Marethari could stop them, the strange grabbed from his back a large great sword and with minimal effort, swung the massive blade downwards, destroying their weapons and from the sheer swing of the blade, blew them back. The sword was one that had seen battle, several pieces of it were broken from the hilt, but the steel was black as the night with red lines racing from hilt to point, the pommel held the Dread Wolf's head while the handle was wrapped in black leather.
He turned to the Keeper as his sword touched the ground. 'I'm merely here to see one of my own, must I hurt more to see?', he asked. Marethari recognized the sword, the black steel of onyx that was crafted for the clan several years ago for their greatest warrior, passed down from generations. This elf, who now wielded the blade, clearly earned that right to carry this sword.
'So tell me, Marethari', he spoke in a very calm tone as he looked up her, his eyes shining in the darkness of his cowl. 'Where is Merrill?'.
Kirkwall
'Whose idea was it we face off against a dragon?', Hawke asked as he quickly patted the fires from his cloak in a frenzy with an occasional curse from the heat. The four adventurers were currently recovering from their skirmish with a mature dragon and its younger cousins in the a dark and grim location known as the Bone Pit.
First it was a simple job to find a couple of missing Ferelden workers, which led to a bet of what attacked them, bandits or creatures. They found one worker who was running through the mines, warning them it was a dragon that attacked him and his men, so of course, Aveline declared it must be slain for the safety of the workers.
So of course it would have be divine if it was just a single dragon but no~o, it had to be a small nest worth of dragons that had those adult teeth that Hawke said made daggers look like butter knives. The four of them were all either patting out the flames their gear had caught alit or wrapping bandages, applying medicine or just trying to apply some method of soothing their aching muscles.
Hawke received a few burns here and there, thankfully his robes managed to hold off the flames before they could touch his flesh. He was thanking his god that the robes were enchanted for the sole reason of not burning his flesh off.
Aveline, being the front and attacker of the four, had taken on more hits and slashes from the dragons, her armour scratched and barely hanging on while her shield that belonged to her late husband held up but the templar flame was scratched out beyond recognition and her sword was now a broken blade.
Anders, the lucky bastard, was the only one among them who only dealt with a few burns on his feathered pauldrens, until he spent pretty much any of his magical energies to heal up Carver, who nearly lost an arm to the dragon's gaping maws. The younger Hawke was covered in scratches from cheek to chest, thankfully Anders managed to rid any dragon poison within the wounds before they got too deep.
'The next time there's a dragon infested mine, I'm setting the damn place on fire', Anders grumbled as he closed up Carver's wounds. The younger Hawke stood up after wards before nearly stumbling forward to grab his sword. Rolling his eyes at his stubborn brother, Hawke pushed himself off the boulder he sat on as Aveline tossed her now ruined sword aside.
'You owe me a new sword Hawke', she said as she strapped her shield to her back. 'Hey it was your idea to fight a horde of dragons, your sword's on you', he replied back as he smiled at the red head woman. She returned his smile with a glare, before pointing at Carver who was now heading off back to the city. 'You still owe me for keeping your brother from being arrested last week', she reminded him.
Hawke rolled his eyes at the memory, as he followed the others back to Kirkwall to report to Hubert. Andraste preserve him he never knew anyone who got into so many bar fights with common and noble alike, swearing the population of the former and latter would plummet if Carver was left alone.
Still it wasn't as if Hawke needed any coin for the expedition since now he's already part of it with the crew, he just wanted to keep some coin for the family in case he didn't return alive. '…If I didn't like you so much…', he groaned as he playfully smirked at the guardswoman as they returned to the city of chains.
Hanged Man
'Blue?'.
'No'.
'Green!'.
'No'.
Merrill hadn't realized Fenris' underwear colour was such a hot topic. She sat down with her hater and best friend as the pirate was, for some unknown reason, guessing what colour was Fenris' underwear and so far the elf had only said the one word today. The elf in question was just sipping his drink away while often stopping to say "no" to every colour the pirate sung out her lips.
The dalish was just waiting for Hawke to come back while Varric was busying himself with yet another wild tale of the Hawke and Company's adventures. 'Pink?', Isabela said with naughty grin. '…You're not even trying anymore', Fenris said with groan. 'Kitten, got an idea?', Isabela asked.
The elf was well aware that she was probably one of Fenris' least favourite people and that every time she tried to chat with him she either got a scowl, a rude way to end the chat, or occasionally and more often than not, ridicule for everything she said.
She quietly sipped her drink looking anywhere from his scowl. '*Sigh* Fine by that way', Isabela pouted as she resumed her endless guessing of the white wolf's smalls. Just as the game seemed to never end, the doors of the Hanged Man opened up revealing Hawke and Anders entering.
Merrill fought back that girlish grin of hers as she saw the humans approach the table, Hawke placing himself between her and Anders, sitting with his fellow mages. 'She's guessing the colour of his underwear again?', he asked the elf. 'Yes', the petite elf said with a smile as the pirate went further deep into the category of colours and seemed to cut into Fenris' patience.
Anders rolled his eyes as Isabela threw her arms up in the air in exasperation as she slumped in her seat. 'I give up, anymore and I'll go colour blind', she whined. 'And here I thought pirates were persistent', Fenris muttered as he finished his drink. Then, Isabela formed a cat like grin. 'Anders~ You know right?', she asked.
Hawke bit his inner cheek as he knew where she was going…
'How would I know?', he asked. 'Ooh? What about that night a week ago? Then again… you were both really drunk', she teased. At this, the elf looked at her as Anders' face lost it's colour. 'W-What?'. 'What are you talking about?', Fenris spoke, slowly yet dangerously placing his tankard down as Merrill saw his knuckles go white with anger.
'Hawke will vouch for me, you two were so friendly with each other that you even shared a dance', she said pointing at the bearded human, who was now the focus of the table. 'All I saw them do was a dance while singing or rather, raping the Orlesian national anthem before I left', he said with both arms up in defence.
Anders and Fenris looked at each in hate before Isabela's grin widened and Merrill had a worrying feeling this table was going to be torn apart. 'Oh that's not even the best part of your night', she chirped. Blue energies glowed from both men as their eyes turned on the pirate.
'Fenris confessed his darkest secret and Anders here said "I'll make it better for you. For us", and then next thing I knew, you were both getting…frisky~'.
The two turned on each other, before Fenris lunged upon the mage with a cry of rage as the blond man wrestled him. The two clawed and strangled each other while the elf shouted profanities in tevinter while the mage kept calling him a "tree humper".
Isabela laughed as they struggled and rolled along the ground while Merrill sat on the table away from them as Hawke chuckled at them. 'Pervert Mage!', roared the elf. 'Rabid Dog!', shouted the mage.
'You guys need a more fun way to relieve that tension. Maybe share a room?', the pirate further teased as they struggled and fought. Then, they both stopped as they turned their eyes on her, before they slowly got up and smirked. Isabela blinked in confusion until…
'Run Isabela', Hawke said as he and Merrill stood back, her hiding behind him. She looked at before her eyes slowly turned to the two as she saw Anders was channelling lighting through his hands while Fenris started to glow blueish.
'Oh shit…'.
Isabela ran out of the bar while the two chased after like wild men, yelling at her as they exited the bar.
The two remaining party took their seats again. 'Do you think she'll be okay?', she asked worriedly. Hawke chuckled happily as he sipped his drink. 'Knowing her she'll out maneuverer them in the streets, they'll get fed up and move on with their day', Hawke explained. She smiled in response to that as Hawke pushed over a drink for her. She looked at it apprehensively, recalling her last encounter with alcohol.
'It's a light one, barely anything in it don't worry', he assured. Smiling at his words, the elf gripped the tankard and took a sip. Instead of coughing, she actually hummed in approval. It tasted of oranges and something else she couldn't place but it was refreshing and delicious.
Hawke drank the remnants of his own drink as Merrill finished hers in seconds. 'Another round?', he asked. 'Yes please', she said warmly. The human returned her smile with his own that seemingly brightened up her day whenever she saw it as he stood up and took her tankard with him. She smiled down at the table, though behind her smiles were questions that burned in her mind. No matter how much she denied it or how hard she tried to push it back, she still wondered what happened that night she was intoxicated with him.
Isabela's words had done enough to make her worry she did do something she may regret with Hawke but like she said, she had checked and she was still a virgin so he didn't do anything drastic. Yet sometimes she'd catch him looking at her and she'd see guilt in his eyes as if he had done something to her.
She wished he'd just tell her instead of looking as if he killed her puppy. If he didn't sleep with her then what in the name of Andruil did he do to look so guilty of? 'Looky here mates', a slurred voice spoke. Merrill looked up and saw three humans standing above her, drunk. 'A little knife ear wench, sitting at the table like a person', he slurred. Merrill looked away, ignoring them as she could feel their eyes lecherously looking at her like some common whore.
'Oi, did I say you could ignore me?'. Suddenly, Merrill's hair was grabbed and she was yanked up with a yelp. She felt their hands around her hips as one thick set of hands grabbed her wrists. 'Do we need to teach the slut a lesson in respect boys?', he said, groping her breast, earning a whimper of embarrassment from the elf.
Then before he could do far worse, he suddenly collapsed onto the table with a heavy thud, head first onto the wood with a deadly cracking sound. Standing above him was a very angry Hawke. His fist shook with quite rage as Merrill could see the murder in his eyes, and when Hawke was angry, the dead pile up quickly.
'Let her go. Or I'll break every bone you have', he seethed. Merrill shuddered at his voice, the sheer will within it was scary and yet, heroic in some stances. The other one rushed at the mage, but Hawke parried his fist, delivered a painful elbow to his jaw, grabbed the head with both hands and slamming it down to his knee, breaking the nose.
He turned to the final drunk, who now held a knife to Merrill's neck, earning a gasp of fear from her. 'W-What are ya gonna do now, Ferelden dog!?', he taunted. Before Hawke could set him on fire, the sound of breaking glass echoed as shards of light exploded behind the drunk's head. He slowly fell to the side with a thud as Merrill stumbled forward, falling into Hawke's arms.
She caught her breath with a shudder as the human held her. However, when she realized she was clutching the human rather tightly, as in not letting go for even a second yet she had no intention of letting go. She slowly looked up to the human, who looked at her with worry.
'Are you hurt?', he asked worriedly as he checked for anything else. Merrill shook her head, disgusted by their attempts but relived Hawke saved her. However, when they looked at their ally, he merely stood over the fallen man with a broken bottle in hand. 'So this is how humans attempt to get a woman', he said as he tossed the broken piece aside as from the cowl, he moved his head up to face them.
Hawke placed Merrill behind him protectively as he stared down at him. The shadowed man raised his hand up in defence. 'Hold your horses shem, I've no intention of violating Merrill', he said with a clam yet friendly tone. Merrill blinked at the mention of her name but Hawke's pose only tensed when this mysterious man said her name.
Then, he slowly reached up his cowl and pushed it back. He was an elf they noticed but older then Merrill. Scars on his chin, left cheek and forehead along with a Blood Writing of Ghilan'nain, red coloured, bright green eyes with unkempt white hair. He looked strangely like Fenris aside from the ink and the scars, not to mention the carefree look in his eyes.
His accent was Navarra from the way he spoke. He gave Merrill a smile that looked so pleased to see her. 'You've grown Lethallan', he spoke earnestly in a kind tone. Merrill gasped and placed a hand to her lip as she stumbled backwards, Hawke turned to see her with worry. 'Merrill? You know this man?', he asked with confusion.
'R-Reks…', she whispered as tears fell from her eyes. Reks smiled warmly at her as he approached her, ignoring the confused Hawke. 'Merrill'. Then, with a cry of joy, the elf wrapped her arms around and rested her head on his chest. 'Andruil's Blood! You've grown so much!', she said with so much happiness. The elf hugged back as he held her tightly. 'Twenty years will do that you know', he chuckled as his own eyes went watery.
Hawke stood there, dumbfounded by this but worst of all, felt…jealous. Who was this man? How does he know Merrill and why did Hawke want to stab him so much all of a sudden? They hug broke as the elf turned to Hawke. 'Reks this is Hawke, a friend of mine whose…been a true friend', she said, though she was wishing she could've said more than JUST a friend, since this human meant more than that to her.
'An honour to meet you Hawke', Reks said, offering his hand to him, apparently he was well versed in human greetings. Hawke took his hand despite his own issues with this man. Merrill's hugs were his he thought selfishly. 'Hawke, this is Reks. My brother', she said. Hawke's eyes grew the size of dinner plates as he looked at her in shock.
'You have a brother!?', he asked incredulously as he looked back and forth between the two dalish elves. 'Yes, and he's my older brother~', she said with a large smile. Reks smiled back at her as he gave Hawke a legit smile. 'I've heard much about you Hawke, and I thank you for watching out for my sister'. Hawke smiled back, a weight off his chest and somehow he felt relieved that he was family to the elf.
'Why are you in Kirkwall though? What about Alerion?', Merrill asked. At this, Reks' smile faded and replaced with a look of grief as he turned to her. '…They were killed Lethallan', he said with sadness. Merrill's own loom died and upon her small face was shock and horror. 'W-What?', she stuttered. Reks looked away. He took a breath and turned to her.
'Templars, they learned off our mages and when we refused to send them off…', he started but he said all he needed to say. Merrill placed a hand on her mouth as tears started to form in her eyes. 'Mama, and papa…', she whimpered. Hawke's eyes darkened at her tears as he placed a kind hand on her shoulder, then hugged her as she released her sorrow onto his chest.
Reks watched the two as the human held her tightly as she sobbed into his chest. He saw the anger within Hawke's eyes and the way he held her was that of a lover would…surely they…
Behind his scarf around his neck, he hid a smile of approval.
He found the right person to protect her.
A/N. So this is chapter 12 and I'm just putting this out there, we're heading for the Deep Roads soon with Reks in tow, so look forward to that soon yeah?
Also it is true Merrill does have siblings, the wiki says she is the third child but that is it. So we're gonna have with this. Thanks for reading and I'll see you all in 13, take care!
