Chapter 26

Author notes

Just a short chapter. Sorry, sorry! (not too sorry, though, too tired to be sorry). Better than nothing, I guess. I don't know. It's been a crazy motherbleepity bleep of a year. So busy. No time for personal projects, just work, uni, various family hospitalisations, and sometimes sleep in between. But I wrote this. It was meant to be a bigger chapter but I split this bit off because the rest isn't finished yet. The rest of the chapter will eventually follow, and will be rather more exciting. Hint: Fenris is heavily featured, as is his broodiness. But here's this bit, so you know I am still invested in this, even if I have to put other priorities first.

Happy new year!

And now I sleep.

xxx H xxx

"I'm glad to be of service, Hahren." I rise from the rough wooden table, offering my hand to the elder of the Alienage in a gesture of genuine esteem. "I'll come again next week, at your convenience, and we can discuss what areas need funding most urgently."

The Hahren takes my hand in a firm grip, sharp eyes meeting mine; mingled caution, hope and respect in their pale green depths. "I appreciate this, serah Hawke," he says sincerely. "I'm not certain I understand how it is that a human noblewoman cares for the lives of elves as you seem to, but I wish more of your kind acted as you do."

"So do I," I reply sadly, choosing not to correct him by insisting once again that I am not a noblewoman. It's not a point of dire importance at this moment. "If there are any concerns about my intentions from anyone in the alienage I will be more than happy to speak with them and assure them that this is not charity, just a fraction of what your people are due; for the suffering my kind has inflicted on yours. And that I am not looking for anything in return. I simply want to try and make things better here, as the Viscount ought to do."

"I find myself believing you," the Hahren says with the ghost of a laugh on his lips. "You have a true heart, friend. I believe it would lead you to do this, even without your attachment to young Merrill." I nod in agreement, smiling at the unexpected compliment. "How is the lass these days?" the elven man asks considerately. "She kept to herself mostly while she was here, but she had good friends in Arianni and Nyssa. I have not seen much of her for a while, though she still keeps her home here I understand."

"Yes, she doesn't want to give it up just yet," I confirm. "She is well; very well. And happy. She still wants to maintain her ties here I think, and have a place to go to work on her own projects." It's true enough. "And believe it or not, it is sometimes very good to spend time away from Hightown sometimes. Living there, after being used to living in small villages and tiny houses, the contrast between Lowtown and Hightown is… unsettling." I can feel the grimace on my face. "And the contrast between Lowtown proper and the Alienage? Unacceptable. Merrill said you are a good man and that you would hear me out. I am happy to find she was right." I shrug. "I see a great deal of inequality here, and I'm in a position to do something about it. So I will."

"A true heart," the Hahren murmurs again, a strange, shining look in his eyes. "You and Merrill both. I am grateful for the both of you."

A glad smile on my lips as I bid the Hahren farewell, I step out into the dusty square of the elven quarter, nodding to the elves who greet me familiarly as I pass. Well, that meeting certainly went well. For some time, I have wanted to put some of my resources to good use and do what I can to improve the lives of the elves here in Kirkwall. I simply wasn't entirely sure how to go about it. Certainly I knew it would be useless to try and donate any funds through the city authorities; the alienage would never have seen a bare copper if I had and Seneschal Bran would have suddenly mysteriously acquired the coin to afford a third story on his house. Talking to the Hahren about it was the obvious step, though I was concerned that the elves might be too proud to accept charity from a human. Merrill was sure the man would let practicality win out over pride when I spoke with him if I put the matter to him in the right way, and she was not wrong. I had intended to approach him about making an anonymous donation that he could use as he saw fit, but the Hahren suggested it would be better to be open about where the money was coming from, to avoid causing trouble with the authorities. He told me that while no one wants to take charity, they weren't going to get the powers that be improving the alienage any time soon, and he wasn't too proud to accept a helping hand when offered in friendship. For my part, I'm very pleased to have something worthwhile for my coin to do, other than sitting around looking pretty. I've no need for it certainly, and even Mother can't spend it all, not even at Jean-Luc's. Not even now that she has Merrill's wardrobe to fill.

I hope she doesn't go overboard with the tailor today. I probably shouldn't have left Merrill alone with them, but Maker's breath, I've wasted more hours I can remember standing for that tailor while he pokes and prods and measures and pins, all for clothes I don't want and have very little intention of ever wearing, except under extreme duress from Mother. Call me coward, but I couldn't help but take this opportunity to excuse myself from enduring one more minute of that rubbish. Merrill will forgive me. I hope.

How long it's been since I've had such a long period of peace, all to myself! No one trying to rob me, or kill me, or entreating me for aid unexpectedly. I spend the long walk from Lowtown to the back streets of Hightown in unusually quiet solitude, undisturbed by passers-by, imagining the sorts of apparel Mother will be ordering for my little elf. Dresses, most likely, and houserobes and things. Hopefully she might think to add in some more practical items for everyday use, otherwise Merrill and I will just have to peruse the Lowtown markets, or perhaps engage the services of one of the elven dressmakers in the alienage. They would have far more experience in clothes to fit elven proportions than any human tailor, I'm sure; other than for servant's livery, of course. Not that I would mind it at all, spending a few hours in the company of my love among the simple, practical wares of the Lowtown stalls. Perhaps we could even visit the Night market, the next time one is held.

I head away from the entrance to the nobles' market, still resolved to avoid being dragged into the tailor's shop, and end up entering Hightown through the red lantern district. As I pass by the Blooming Rose, I can't help but glance up at the very explicitly detailed roses blooming suggestively above the entrance, and as always I can hear Merrill's innocent words in my mind, spoken the first time she laid eyes on the brothel's intricately carved icons. "It doesn't really look anything like a rose, does it? Maybe they should change the name."

Lost in fond remembrances, I make my way toward home. As I turn the corner, leaving the red light district behind, I look up and see a pair of well-dressed men headed my way and supress a groan, recognising one of them as the patriarch of the Ahrenbergs, my detestable neighbours. Maker deliver me. I increase my pace, hoping they will simply pass me by without notice, but as usual, no such luck.

"Look here, Talbot," Ahrenberg says, halting his friend and standing deliberately in my path. "It's that woman I was telling you about. The common-born scut with pretensions of nobility."

"Ah, yes," his friend smirks, looking me up and down and yet speaking as though I am not here in front of him. "Leandra's brat. The stain on the once-proud Amell name, who insists on consorting with thieves and knife-ears in broad daylight."

"Been to the brothels, girl?" Ahrenberg remarks snidely, condescending to address me at last. "Tired of your little elven whore already, are you? Looking to find another?"

His friend Talbot laughs uproariously at Ahrenberg's ever so clever comment, oblivious to the fury currently wreathing me in its flames. "No accounting for taste, is there?" he guffaws, clapping Ahrenberg on the back.

"I don't know," Ahrenberg leers. "Elves are pleasing enough, of course. There's a new golden-haired treasure in my kitchens I've yet to try out, and servants are all well and good for a bit of fun. But they don't demand extra for the privilege, if they know what's good for them."

"Quite, if you like. Not really my thing. Servants are relatively clean, however," Talbot equivocates, both of them more or less ignoring me between insults. "You'll not catch anything from them, old fellow. And you wouldn't catch me setting foot in a pleasure house." He smiles smugly as he turns pointedly towards me, a horrid expression in his piggy little eyes. "I have never paid for pleasure in my life."

"Yes, well, that is not surprising," I say through gritted teeth. "After all, there isn't much sense in paying yourself, is there?" Poncy nug-licker. I rein in my temper with a supreme effort. Aveline would hardly thank me if I smeared the blood of these two cretins all over the courtyard of the Keep – far too much paperwork. Talbot splutters indignantly, unable to come up with a witty remark in response to mine. Which was rather good, if I do say so myself. Pity there was no one around to hear it. No one I like, anyway. "I highly doubt anyone at the Rose would ever willingly touch you, even should you offer them all the worldly goods you possess. They have too much self-respect to allow you to dirty them with your sort of filth."

"You dare-" Ahrenberg begins on his odious friend's behalf, and I cut him off with a glare that makes his weak mouth shut with a near-audible snap.

"I dare," I tell them quietly. "I am not in the habit of explaining myself or my actions to sorry excuses for sentient beings such as yourselves, but I will tell you this. If you ever insult my lover again, I will officially demand satisfaction. And I will defeat you. Easily. You will lose your dignity, your social standing, and perhaps even a limb or two, depending on how angry you make me. Is that understood?"

Both faces whiten, taking in a ghostlike quality in an instant. After a few moments of open-mouthed silence, they stalk off quickly, exaggerating the display of affronted noble dignity to conceal the fact that they would rather run like rabbits.

Nobles. Hah.

I force my fisted hands to relax, taking a deep breath as I watch them disappear in the general direction of the markets. Only after they vanish from my sight do I let the tension leave my shoulders as I pass from the street into the cool interior of my home. That will come back to bite me, I'll wager. Never mind.

I close the door as quietly behind me as I can manage, hoping not to alert anyone of my presence, if possible. I can feel my hands shaking, anger still boiling through my every nerve. I'm not yet feeling fit for company just yet. Fortunately not all of Kirkwall's nobles tend to treat me with such flagrant scorn, at least not yet to my face, and I have never expected any less of the Ahrenbergs' and their ilk. Confrontations such as I have with them are rarely pleasant however, and do nothing to improve my mood.

I sit on one of the sturdy wooden benches in the entrance hall to remove my boots and let my anger ebb away, surrounded for the moment by stillness and calming solitude. Letting my head fall back against the cool stone of the walls, I will myself to relax, to let it go. For now. My fingers smooth idly along the edges of the seat, taking note of the fresh set of rough notches on one corner. "Oh, that dog!" I mutter to myself in mild annoyance. By the Maker, sometimes I swear he's as much of a pup as that silly little griffon. What a pair they make! I sigh. "Well, maybe chew-marks add character to the piece."

A happy bark follows my words, echoing loudly around the stone of the entrance, and the culprit responsible for the vandalism comes barrelling in, his wet tongue lolling blissfully from his jaws. He jumps around in a joyful display, barking his excitement at my homecoming, then lays his big heavy head in my lap. I ruffle his ears in greeting, grinning, then rise and make my way into the parlour with some difficulty as the foolish old fellow rounds around me in exuberant circles.

"Is that you, darling?" My mother's voice floats down from somewhere on the level above.

"It's me," I call back, heading for the stairs after him. "Back already? Did you see Jean-Luc?"

"Yes, and he had some marvellous ideas for Merrill's wardrobe, didn't he sweetheart?" Mother replies, to which Merrill's voice answers uncertainly.

"Oh, well, yes, I suppose he certainly had a lot of ideas..."

I smother a grin as I follow their voices into Mother's room where I find the two of them sitting comfortably at her small corner table. Drinking tea, naturally. Feathers, his canine companion now settling himself down beside his little charge, is sleeping peaceably on the thick Orlesian rug. I touch Mother's shoulder fondly in greeting and kiss Merrill lovingly on the forehead, then seat myself on the edge of Mother's bed, noticing several packages at Mother's feet. "Did he finish your clothes so soon?" I ask in surprise. "I thought he would simply take measurements and discuss what you wanted today."

"No, my dear, these aren't Merrill's clothes, though Jean-Luc assures me he will make her wardrobe his top priority. No, my dear. These are for you." A wicked smile lights Mother's face as I groan, and Merrill tries very hard not to smile. Mother picks up the parcels and hands them over to me, eyes twinkling merrily. "I had already commissioned them before we made today's appointment, and Jean-Luc already had your measurements. You're due for some new attire, I rather think." She laughs at my glare, and waves a hand at me, directing me to open the parcels. "Go on, take a look! You ought to like them. I asked Jean-Luc not to make them too flashy, I promise."

I undo the parcel and examine the clothes with no small amount of trepidation. Hmm. Plain colours, suitable for everyday use, although with rather more decoration that I would prefer. Not bad, I suppose, though with that amount of embroidery, I am now fully convinced that Jean-Luc does not quite understand what is meant by "not too flashy". The motif is acceptable at least; snarling mabari repeated on the cuffs, hems and collars of the tunics, and down each leg of the breeches. Better than the floral pattern interspersed with butterflies that constituted his last attempt.

"Well?" Mother asks after a moment. "What do you think? Approaching the understated, unnoticeable "I might as well walk around naked for all the thought I care to put into my appearance" look you seem to want to go for?"

"Well…" I reply slowly. "They would attract slightly less attention than walking around naked, I suppose…"

My comment makes Merrill bite her lip and blush fiercely. I give her a knowing smile, guessing the direction of her thoughts. Mother merely sighs, a little on the heavy side, and I relent.

"A jest, Mother. They're lovely, really. Much better than Jean-Luc's last try. I very much like the mabari pattern."

She brightens, holding up one of the tunics against me to admire it. "They are good, aren't they? I thought you would like that. And the colours rather suit you, without being too overstated. I do hope you won't be too rough with them though, dear."

"I'll wear some of them tomorrow," I promise her. "Merrill and I are going to the Wounded Coast, along with anyone who wants to come. These clothes will be fine for that."

"A nice, peaceful outing shouldn't hurt them," Merrill agrees, smiling at Leandra, who adopts a wry look.

"If you lot can manage to stay out of trouble for five minutes," she returns doubtfully. I open my mouth to smugly inform her that I haven't encountered any trouble at all today, then remember Ahrenberg and his hanger-on and shut it right back up again. "But it will do everyone good to get out for a bit."

I nod in agreement. "We'll take all necessary trouble-avoiding precautions, don't worry. Would you like to come?"

"Thank you, but I have plans for tomorrow, darling," Mother declines gracefully. "Perhaps next time? It would be nice to escape the city for a while again. How was your day, my dear?" She looks at me in concern as I frown, recalled to my unpleasant encounter with our abhorrent neighbour and his friend. "What is it, love?"

I recount the event as best I can without their despicable words exactly, conscious of Merrill's eyes upon me. She doesn't need to hear such poison if I can prevent it. We both hear such things enough as it is. Mother, as I expected, is absolutely disgusted.

"Those cretins!" she hisses angrily. Her expression softens as she looks between us, even as her voice takes on the hardness of diamonds. "I'm so sorry, my darlings. The next time I encounter either one of those odious creatures, I will make certain they know just what will become of anyone who insults either of my daughters again!"

I can't help but smile at the image her utterance brings to mind. Those curs would wet themselves, faced with the full fury of Leandra Amell, I'm certain. "I've no doubt of that, Mother."

Still flushed about the cheeks with anger, Mother excuses herself to go and see about dinner in the kitchens and I scoop up the various packages of clothing which now apparently belong to me, Merrill by my side as we make our way into our chambers. Once there with the door safely barred against the outside world, I dump the clothing unceremoniously into a chair, vaguely promising myself that I will sort them out and hang them up properly later and sit on the edge of the bed to pull off my boots, leaning comfortably against Merrill's sweet warmth as she seats herself beside me.

"That's better," I sigh happily, allowing my toes to wiggle ecstatically in their newfound freedom and eliciting a giggle from Merrill.

"You should just go without, ma vhenan, if it feels so much better," she informs me, smiling fondly at me.

I gasp in mock horror. "But whatever would the neighbours think?"

Merrill laughs, knowing full well that I don't give a flying nug what the neighbours think, and plants a soft kiss on my temple. "How was your day, then? Apart from running into those awful men, of course. Did it take so long to speak to the Hahren? I thought you would be home before Leandra and me, for certain!"

I sigh. "Well, I did speak to the Hahren eventually, and it went well. But first I ended up going out to Sundermount to get some dalish tattoo ink for Solivitus the herbalist at the Gallows."

Merrill's fine eyebrows almost disappear into her hairline. "What?"

"Yes..." I shrug, feeling a little sheepish under her incredulous gaze. I really shouldn't have agreed to get something like that for a shemlen herbalist. "Well… he asked me for it quite a while ago, and it completely slipped my mind until this morning. I thought I'd best go and see about it while I still remembered. Maker knows what he needs that for. I didn't really think it was a good idea myself, but he insisted," I add as Merrill continues to look at me bemusedly. "I might have saved myself the trip, though. It certainly didn't go well when I asked Master Ilen if I could have some. He got a bit... affronted."

"Yes, I suppose he would have done," Merrill comments, a little drily. "I wish I'd been with you then. I could have warned you he would be like that."

"Well, I figured it was a stupid thing to ask Ilen for. I shouldn't have promised Solivitus."

"I don't suppose Master Ilen gave you any, then?"

"No. But I bought a few other things from him to make up for upsetting his Dalish pride."

Merrill laughs quietly. "I can imagine his reaction. I'm sorry I wasn't there. To stop you from asking, I mean, not to watch him be angry at you. I can make you some vallaslin ink easily enough."

"Really? You won't be… I don't know, smote by an angry elven god, or something?"

Merrill gives me a wry grin. "If the Creators suddenly start showing an interest in our lives again, assuming they even can, then I rather hope it will be over something more important than a little bit of ink. I'd hate to discover they would be so petty."

"Thank you," I smile appreciatively, wrapping Merrill in a close embrace and squeezing gently. "Such a waste of time I've had today! I could have had you in my arms again hours ago. What have you been doing today, my love? Apart from your market adventures."

"Oh!" Bright emerald eyes light with excitement, and she slips out of my embrace to pick up a book lying open on a small table by the fire. "I've been reading. Another delivery was left for us. From the Black Emporium again." Seeing my slightly exasperated look, Merrill gives a small grin. "I think Xenon really misses us. He sent me a handbook on Griffon-rearing! It seems to have been written by a Warden. It talks of the aeries at Weisshaupt, and it is very old. Sometimes the language is a little hard to decipher. But it's all about what to feed them, and what to do if they fall ill, and how to train them and get them to exercise their wings and learn to fly even when they don't have their parents to show them how, and it is in excellent condition, and I think it'll be very useful for Feathers!"

I blink several times as my mind struggles to keep up with all this information, belatedly realise she has finished speaking, and smile. "That certainly sounds useful. Xenon is really trying hard, isn't he?" I do wonder why he would truly care so very much, sometimes. Surely our patronage can't be all that important. Even if he only reveals his location to a very select clientele, his prices are generally high enough to ensure him a good income even if he should sell only a few items a year. Strange that he would care so much about my coin. I'm not all that wealthy. "Read very far into it, then?"

"I've skimmed it a bit. It's got lots of useful things. It says we should be exercising him a lot more than we are." Merrill pauses, looking at me with a hopeful glint in her eyes. "I've been thinking… I know he spends a lot of his time in here running about the hallways and up and down stairs and things, but that's not really good enough for him. He's going to get a lot bigger. And he's going to need to get used to being outdoors. Ma vhenan… couldn't we take him outside, sometimes? Maybe… maybe we could bring him with us on our outing tomorrow?"

I bite my lip a little, weighing the very good reasons for taking the little fellow out for exercise against the danger of exposing him to the possibility of fearful – or perhaps covetous – regard. "We probably should keep him inside as much as possible. At least until he's a bit bigger. As far as anyone knows griffons are extinct; if anyone knew there were still griffon prides hiding away from the rest of the world somewhere, then surely it would be hard to keep quiet. I imagine a lot of people would pay a lot of money for a griffon, and we get jumped quite often enough as it is."

"But I'm sure we could manage something!" Merrill insists, a note of that irresistible "You kicked my puppy" tone creeping into her voice, enchanting me with the urge to do whatever she says if only it will make her happy. "The book says they need lots of exercise, and to go out in the wild to learn how to hunt for themselves, so they don't become completely dependent on their riders for food. When the griffon riders had to go on long journeys, they could only carry supplies for themselves, not the griffons too, after all. And full grown griffons eat quite a lot." Her eyes brighten with sudden inspiration. "What about that old mining tunnel through the Undercity? We could go through the entrance to Darktown near Ander's clinic through the mansion cellar, then go to the mining tunnel and be out on the Wounded Coast before anyone is the wiser! I'm sure we can go unnoticed, if I try very hard not to fall over anything. I bet Isabela could help us."

"That's a good thought." I consider briefly, deciding that I rather like her plan. "We can try. He's small enough to smuggle out of the city for a while. Perhaps we could take them to the Wounded Coast tomorrow to begin with. I know that Varric and Isabela are coming with us, at least. I'm sure that between us all we can manage to keep Feathers out of too much trouble."

Merrill smiles, clearly delighted at the thought of showing Feathers a small part of the wider world. "And of course we'll have to take absolute care not to show Feathers to anyone at all, beyond our circle, I mean. No sense in causing a stir over the 'return of the Griffons' when there's only one of him."

"That we know of," I qualify, but nod all the same. "Soon he'll be too big to smuggle out of the city, though. But for now, perhaps we can arrange a trip out of the city every few days, with the dog too of course." I smile, feeling the moment arrive at last "For the moment, if you wish… we can take him to the garden."

A tiny frown of confusion appears on Merrill's brow. "Whose garden? Surely not the Ahrenberg's garden?"

"No," I reply, suppressing a laugh as I shake my head.

"The Viscount's, then? Ma vhenan, I hardly think that's a good idea, even if he does seem to like you well enough. I got in rather a bit of trouble the last time I went there. The guards were ever so cross."

"Not the Viscount's, either."

"Hawke!" Merrill pushes my shoulder playfully, eyes laughing at me. "You know how I love your games, but please? Tell me what you mean!"

I smile wider, drawing out my revelation a little longer. "This mansion has a lot of surprises." I hold out my hand for her to take. "Would you like to see?"

xxx M xxx

Feathers and his stalwart mabari guardian gambol about one another up the stairs ahead of us as Hawke leads the way through a part of the sprawling mansion I don't think I've ever been to and certainly never knew existed. Part of the guest wing, apparently, little used but kept clean enough by Bodahn and his boy. Creators, what a lot of work he must have to do! I should really offer to help him more often. Perhaps he'll even let me, if I promise not to touch anything breakable.

Up a few more stairs we go, Hawke's hand warm where it encloses mine, her eyes sparkling with excitement whenever she steals a glance at me. It's catching. I can feel my heart racing in my chest, even more than it usually does when I'm in such close proximity to this wondrous woman. Whatever can this surprise of Hawke's be? I know I'll find out in a minute or two, but I oh how I want to know, right this moment! I hate surprises. That is, I love them, but I hate them all the same. Oh, I don't even know what I mean!

Hawke stops at last at a landing on what must surely be the highest floor of the house - it simply can't go any higher, surely - and whistles to her dog, who promptly rounds up Feathers from behind a dusty old tapestry and brings him back to us where we stand in front of a well-barred door, recently cleaned. Odd enough, in this part of the house, but even odder still to have a door with a locking bar on the hallway side. Unless it leads outside. But why would there be a door that leads outside, all the way up here?

Hawke is smiling at me, watching me trying to puzzle out why exactly we came all the way up here to stare at a door. I give her a quizzical look. "Hawke? Where does this door lead? Is that what we came up here for?"

She nods, unable to bite back a grin, looking very cheeky and not a little bit smug, mildly infuriating in an adorable sort of way. "It is, in a way. It leads out to the roof."

"Is that the surprise?" I ask with impatience when she says nothing else. Oh, how I want to know what the surprise is! "Don't get me wrong, ma vhenan, I'm sure it's a lovely roof, but I'm not sure why it's something to get quite so excited about."

My mildly infuriating but adorable human says nothing, her cheeky grin never leaving her face as she unbars the door and slips an elaborate silver key from her pocket, fitting in in the lock and turning it without a sound. With one hand on the latch, she pauses and turns to me. I chafe a little at the delay, as do our furry companions, who both give a small whine of impatience at our feet. Hawke's grin only deepens.

"You'll see why, in a moment," she promises, her eyes twinkling merrily. "But first, I need you to do something for me."

I swear, I could burst apart with all this suspense! What could be on the roof that Hawke is so excited about? Oh, please, open the door! "Anything," I promise hastily.

"Close your eyes."

Oh. Right. I remember this part. Whatever this surprise is, I suppose it must be rather too big to wrap, if it's out on the roof and all. I close my eyes obediently, squeezing them extra tight and putting my hands over them for good measure. I will not peek this time. I won't.

I hear the door creak just a little on its hinges as Hawke pushes it open a crack, and a small stray tendril of a sweet-smelling breeze slips through, a tantalising jumble of delicious scents tugging at my memory for a moment. I know those scents… but I can't imagine how they could come from anything that would be up here! The door groans softly as Hawke swings it open fully, and I feel a rush of sweet air across my face, see the red of my eyelids as the sun falls onto my upturned face, feel Feathers and the dog brush past my shins as they rush headlong out through the door and - onto the roof! Creators, they'll fall right off the edge! What can they be thinking, the foolish creatures! I gasp and almost drop my hands, but Hawke gently grasps my wrists and keeps them in place, murmuring softly into my ear as she guides me forward.

"It's alright, they're fine, I promise. They are in no danger. You'll see. Let me show you."

There's no one in the world I trust more than Hawke. Through the door I walk, feeling my way one step at a time with one of her hands settled lightly on my hip, the other in the small of my back, gently guiding me. The cool, smooth stone of the hallway gives way to what feels like warm tile – but not like the rough, sun-baked roof tiles I expected. And not slanted, like I thought.

Where in Mythal's name are we?

Hawke guides me forward one more step, and I falter, nearly unbalancing in surprise at the crisp crunchiness between my toes. I know that sensation, have known it since first I learned to walk… but how can it be? Here, now? There can't be grass growing here, in the city, on Hawke's very roof! There just can't be!

Can there?

"Hawke?" I ask, hearing my voice rise as my excitement and bewilderment grow together, wiggling my toes and breathing deep. That is grass, it is! How is this possible? "Oh, please, ma vhenan!"

Hawke closes her limber fingers around my wrists again, a smile in her voice as she pulls my hands gently away from my face. "Alright. Open your eyes, love."

I open my eyes to a tangle of light, and colour, and green, so much green! We are in a large courtyard that seems to sun the length of the house, open to the sky, surrounded on all sides by walls completely covered in age-old ivy of a green so deep and beautiful it puts emeralds to shame. There is grass underfoot; lush, thick grass, and there are plants all around; flowers and shrubs and even small trees all around the walls, growing in a wild tangle just like a forest, with little birds already beginning to claim the place as home, and a little path winding its way gently through it all. In the centre of this wonder is a small open glade, where Feathers and his mabari companion are chasing each other gleefully about, leaping and rolling with joyful abandon. A little pond – a pond! - glitters like a jewel on the far side of the clearing, where a few small tables and chairs carved elegantly from stone cluster around a huddle of familiar looking bushes… no.

Could it be? Here, in Kirkwall?

"Hawke…" I whisper, finding my voice at last.

"Yes, my heart?" Hawke's voice is rich with joy and love. I gaze up at her in utter amazement and wonder.

"Are those… are those…?"

"Blackberries." Hawke laughs, nodding. "Yes, indeed. All for you." Her loving smile reaches deep within me, caressing my heart. "Only for you. As I am."

"Oh, Hawke…" I whisper and fall silent, lost for words, pressing my fingers to my lips and gazing around the lovely, lovely rooftop garden in wonder-struck delight.

"Consider it a very early Feastday gift, my love," Hawke tells me, her loving smile kindling a fire in my chest. She presses the silver key into my palm, closing my fingers about it with her own.

I cannot… Creators know how much I miss plants and trees and greenery, cooped up in this city, but I would never have imagined something like this could even… oh, oh, Hawke! I turn to her, still not quite believing what I am experiencing. A rooftop garden is one thing, but this, with real grass and bushes planted in soil, not pots, and even trees! Trees, growing on a roof! "Hawke, how did you do this?"

"Magic." She smiles, wiggling her fingers at me, and then laughs softly. "Well, a little. Truthfully, the garden was already here. I told you the mansion has many surprises. Mother showed me this one. I swore her to secrecy until I had finished bringing convincing everything to grow again; Gamlen let it go to seed, you see. This was built into the roof when the house was constructed, a feat of dwarven and Tevinter engineering combined, just like the baths." Hawke indicates a cunningly concealed configuration of piping built into one corner of the courtyard, part of a larger network which is so well designed it looks far more likely to be decorative than functional. "The runoff from the rain is drained in a similar way, and there are a great deal of deep-seated spells and enchantments built into the roof structure ensuring that no soil, water, or roots ever break through anywhere they're not supposed to and damage the rest of the house. Sandal helped me with the enchantments, and I improved and augmented the existing spells where the old magic was failing, and added a few spells of my own invention to keep the plants healthy up here. Though they seemed to have survived well enough on their own since the place was uncared for," Hawke observes. "The blackberry bushes I had brought here especially for you. I've never turned my herbalism skills to gardening before, but so far I seem to be managing well enough at keeping everything alive up here, even when they're not perfectly suited to Kirkwall's climate." She gestures to the leafy, green bushes, a proud smile on her face. "We'll have plenty of blackberries, come next summer."

"Hawke… oh, Hawke…"

I stare about, spellbound with delight, wanting to look at everything at once, it's all so wonderful! Hawke kisses my brow and tilts her head invitingly towards the path through the tiny forest, where birds and butterflies flutter cheerfully amongst the branches, smiling that smile she keeps only for me. "Shall we explore?"

"In a moment, ma vhenan." I take her hand in mine, holding it to my heart for a moment before I pull her tight against me, crushing my lips to hers in a burst of aching sweetness. When the kiss ends, I gaze into her enchanting eyes, feeling more than I could ever attempt to put into words. "By the gods, I do love you, Hawke."

"And I you, Merrill. Only you." Her lips find mine again, gentle and warm and tender. "Always."

Soft fingertips caress my cheek, and eyes as pure blue as the sky above look back at me, shining with a depth of love I never thought possible, not for me.

But it is. All mine. The heart and soul of a beautiful, brave woman. A pure, true heart. A soul full of light and courage and love, such love.

And it's all for me.

She… is only for me.

Always.