A/N: This is a continuation of a series I started with Betrayal. It views an angry F!Hawke through the eyes of her companions.
"Why?"
The question popped out before Merrill could stop it. Then again, a lot of things did that and rarely in the order necessary for a productive conversation with anyone. Merrill, in fact, blushed when she realized Ren, Isabela and Varric were staring at her expectantly from the various rocks they stay on, or against, while eating.
Each expression was actually different, though years of experience had taught how to read them. Ren Hawke's wise stony and cold, though there was a hint of something else that Merrill couldn't figure out on the blonde human's face. Isabela just looked amused, almost affectionately so, from where she sat, perched on a rock above Ren. When Merrill looked over at Varric she thought he was trying not to laugh. Or was constipated...one never knew for sure, after all...perhaps she should offer him a remedy...
"Why what, kitten?" Isabela's voice chimed in, breaking Merrill's train of thought and bringing her back to her original question. Of course, it took the elf a moment to remember why she'd asked 'why?'.
"Oh! Oh...why are you always so angry, Hawke?" she blurted out, watching the human as she asked her question. It was the only way she was able to see Hawke's face go from the normal angry and stony look to surprised then right back in a very quick manner.
"I'm not..." Hawke started to say before being interrupted by a loud guffaw from Varric.
"Angrier than a charging bronto," he told the human.
"Ornerier than a pirate six months at sea," Isabela chimed in, quickly hiding her smirk from Hawke's glare with her water skin.
"Pricklier than a bed full of nettles!" Merrill chimed in, pleased that she could actually contribute to this round of teasing. Usually that went to innuendo and she did really poorly with that. "Nettles are really prickly. This one time when..."
"Daisy..." Varric said, his tone warning her she was rambling.
"Oh! But yes, why are you always angry?" Merrill asked, her head tilting to the side, much like Rex did when being talked to, as she waited for Hawke to ask.
Hawke just scoffed and stood up, grabbing her shield from where she propped it. "Because life just sucks. Let's go. I want to get to the camp before it's too late...because you know nothing is ever simple."
Merrill started after Hawke and thought about what she said. Hawk so often challenged and angered Merrill by questioning her for walking the path she had chosen. She and Hawke rarely spoke where it did not delve into some sort of yelling match.
She quietly followed Hawke and the other two, thinking of all the things she had lost. Her father, her home, her brother. Her sister was sent to the Kirkwall Circle. Her mother was killed by a mad mage, dying in her arms. Perhaps Hawke's anger was muck like a hunter's cursing when they were hurt in the forest. Her anger hid the pain.
Merrill stopped at that thought and watched the human leading them to Merrill's former clan.
"May the Dread wolf never hear your steps," she said softly in Elvhen, hoping, maybe that it would help Hawke.
"Bandits!" came Hawke's voice, breaking through Merrill's reverie. It was automatic for her to pull her staff from her back and summon Stonefist with her magic, hurling it at the closest bandit. There was the thwunk of Bianca and Varric picking them off further ahead. Isabella wove in and out of combat, seemingly disappearing while every one of the bandits seemed quite content to focus on Hawke as she hurled insults and in general angered everyone.
The trio worked as a seamless team and Merrill tried her best to keep up with them, weaving her magical attacks among the bandits, dancing back behind Varric and Bianca as they decided to try and target her. Which was amusing given Varric was that much shorter than her!
Her palms itched, the faint scars tingling as the blood in her veins called to her, whispering the promise of power. She reached for her dagger, suddenly her magic was gone, and she sagged against her staff, surprise etched in her face.
Her eyes darted over to Hawke, watching as she seemed to channel an energy and knocked back the last bandit with her shield, right into Isabela's waiting daggers.
Merrill stared at Hawke for a long moment, then straightened up, taking a deep breath. She still felt empty, but her magic was starting to seep back in with every breath she took.
"How did you know Isabella would be there?" Merrill asked, not wanting to ask the other question, not wanting to know what Hawke had done to her as she reached for her blood. Not any other blood but just her own.
"Oh kitten, it's just a type of dancing, and Hawke and I are very good at dancing," Isabela purred.
"I want to dance! But I'm...oh, wait, you're not talking about that type of dancing..."
Hawke blushed and shook her head, as she continued up the trail, after checking if the bandits had anything of value. "Isabela!"
They were definitely talking about a different type of dancing. But it was nice to see Hawke not look quite so angry, if only around Isabela.