A/N: Yes, you've got the right story, we're still in the Halfway Idiots train.; Addendum: I'm sorry it took longer than my usual pace, been a bit out of the weather. Thanks for the kind encouragement and reviews! They keep my demented brain going =D!
Disclaimer: I do own the characters in this story, EA and Bioware does. Derivative work is mine.
"Mahariel," Wynne puts her scholarly hands on the girl's shoulder. "Would you care to give these old bones some help?" The rest of the camp had fallen asleep and the young Warden is left with nightwatch duty in the company of the elder but beautiful and well-endowed mage.
The Warden, helpful and kind as she is, immediately offers her nod in assent. "Of course, Wynne! Anything you need."
Wynne grins, fine lines appearing in the corner of her mouth. "You see, I've been meaning to write a book about the Dalish's art of blood writing."
Mahariel's gem-like eyes sparkle with sorrow. "Oh, I'm so sorry but I'm afraid I cannot share how it's done."
"I know, Mahariel, and I wouldn't ask that from you. But I'd like to know if it goes beyond the face?" The sophisticated mage implores as her gray eyes covet her junior's smiling red lips.
"What a curious thing to ask, Wynne, of course it does!" The Dalish Warden takes off a glove and raises her sleeve, revealing intricate lines running up from the tips of her fingers to her arm, disappearing into the garment. Mahariel's other hand continues from where the lines disappeared, tracing invisible lines on her left shoulder then curves down several times around each breast then ends her imaginary painting with the other shoulder. The mage's lustful stare follows every line. "It covers everything, really," Mahariel finishes, unaware of the woman's intentions.
"What I really need is an illustration of how it looks entirely." Wynne takes out a sheet of parchment, a bottle of ink and quill from a leather pack which lay on her side. "I hope you don't mind."
The Warden turns a lovely shade of pink. "You want to see everything? But I have to be naked for that."
"It's for knowledge, Mahariel." Wynne places an arm around the girl's shoulders then draws her close. The scent of the forest and earth fill the mage's nostrils, heightening her desire. "You want the world to understand your people better, yes?"
Mahariel looks thoughtful, highlighting her innocent visage. "Yes, I suppose. Very well!" Her deft hands already popping at the fastens of her Dalish breastplate. "Please make sure you get every detail right, Wynne. It's very very intricate, after all."
"Oh, I will." Wynne grins wider and runs her fingers through Mahariel's soft hair. She eases the girl out of her armor and soon her experienced hands are on the tender smooth skin of Mahariel's bre...
Merrill stuffed a marker in the thin book out of habit then shut it closed. "El'garnan, how rude!" she cried as she put 'Warden's Tattoos' aside. The former First did not know which incensed her more, the horribly inaccurate portrayal of blood writing or it involving her childhood friend. She may be over Mahariel but she was not ready to read about her sexual encounters, imaginary or not. Merrill paused as a frown formed on her face, then retrieved her marker from the previous book. "No, I think I'm done with that. Poor Mahariel," she mumbled, momentarily fearing how would she be depicted in stories if she ever became famous like her clanmate. She then giggled. "As if that'll ever happen," she told herself as she settled for the next title, 'The Divine Exchange'.
Merrill sat in front of her study desk, her usual elven reading materials set aside and replaced with the lurid rags Isabela sent her home with. A book rest lay on the center of the desk, easing Merrill's posture for the long hours she spent reading. A cup and pitcher of water was on the other end of the desk, which the elf deemed necessary within easy reach given then content she was reading.
She reached for a cup of water as she began reading her latest choice, only to be interrupted by a knock on her door. Merrill stiffened. It could only be one person.
"Merrill?" Hawke's voice pierced through the door, followed by another knock. The elf's eyes widened in horror when the knob began to turn. She stumbled to the door and held it tight, preventing entry.
"H-Hawke!" Merrill cried, pushing her weight against the door. "I'm not decent! Could you give me a minute?"
"Oh, I'm sure I'd like the view," Hawke gibed, making the blood drain from Merrill's face as she looked at the obscene materials on her desk. She was already gathering mana to set the books on fire when she heard soft laughter from Hawke. "I jest, Merrill. I'll wait."
Merrill sighed in relief and ran to her desk and hurriedly grabbed every smut rag. The thin books were almost spilling against her spindly arms and chest as she ran into her bedroom then carelessly thrust the materials under her bed. She glanced for a moment at the eluvian to check herself but remembered it did not reflect, eliciting an elven curse from her lips. Merrill hastily unbuckled her belt, throwing it over the thin mattress and mussed her hair. She kicked a stray book back to the hiding spot before running back to the doorway. The door flung open and Merrill was greeted by Hawke's smiling face. "Aneth ara, ma vhenan," she returned the smile through a breathless greeting, feeling warm from the burst of physical activity.
"And a g'noon, Love. Overslept?" Hawke asked she stepped into the house, closing the door behind her. Merrill nodded in reply. As soon as the door clicked the taller woman punctuated her greeting with a kiss on the elf's lips.
The elf swooned with the gesture, picking up the faint scent of lilies from the other woman; Hawke might be overly vain at times, but at least she bathed regularly unlike most humans. "You used the fragrant oils I made?" Merrill asked, smiling even as Hawke pulled away.
Hawke grinned and landed another peck on the other's lips. "You could tell?" she asked, resting a palm on Merrill's cheek and tracing vallaslin lines with her thumb. The latter nodded as she felt her cheek grow warmer against Hawke's hand, noticing blue eyes narrowing as they focused on her face. "Ah, yes," the taller woman drew her hand back as if on fire, then brought the other to Merrill's eye level, holding a small package. "Thought I'd share this with you."
"Oh, what is it?" Merrill took the bundle but the smell assaulting her senses answered the question. A wide smile formed on her face as she hurried to the hexagonal table which served as her dining, unbundling it as soon as she set it down. Two piping hot pastries were in a wooden bowl. "Are these...blackberry cupcakes?"
"Good, you could tell with just that. Maybe I should drop the silly mage bit and be a baker instead." Hawke beamed proudly as she walked to Merrill's side.
Merrill looked to Hawke, then back to the slices, brow crinkled in confusion despite the smile. "But blackberries don't grow in the Free Marches. Where did you..."
"I have contacts, well, Isabela does," Hawke cut off. "And I know how much you miss blackberries," She slipped her hands around Merrill's waist from behind and rested her chin atop the elf's head. Her nose scrunched. "You slept in the Hanged Man?"
The elf blushed and pulled away from Hawke, then seated herself on one of the dining chairs. "Uhm, you could tell?"
"Eau de cheap swill doesn't suit you," Hawke teased as she proceeded to the rundown kitchen. She shook her head with a stern look even before Merrill could stand from her seat. "Still have some of that tea I brought?"
"In that jar, by the moldy cheese." Merrill answered and looked helplessly at the taller woman invading her kitchen. "Honestly Hawke, I'm being a poor host like this."
"It's nothing, you tend my garden after all." Hawke answered, not even looking back to her companion. A small smile formed on her lips. "And I've always wanted to be a doting wife."
Merrill could have sworn Hawke cast a fire spell with those words given the warmth it caused her. She rested her chin on her arms upon the table, her green eyes took in the sight of Hawke being so domesticated, rummaging through her sparse kitchenware. Merrill laughed when Hawke said "Aha!" upon finding a small brass kettle. Hawke turned with a questioning look at the elf.
The elf felt her heart running away. "I just never thought about you and housework. I couldn't imagine you doing anything so mundane." She giggled.
Hawke pouted. "Oh, Merrill, you wound me. I am the eldest daughter to a peasant family, after all." She then busied herself with tea preparation, setting the water-filled kettle over the fireplace. Hawke settled at the desk, waiting for the water to boil, seemingly in deep thought. As the kettle whistled the woman rubbed the old scar on her face.
Merrill was alarmed by the gesture. Hawke only did that if it hurt from the cold or if something disturbed her; and she could not fathom how Hawke could be cold right by the fireplace.
Hawke retrieved the kettle and placed it on the dining table, right by Merrill. She returned to the kitchen counter and soon had silverware, a worn teapot filled with loose tea leaves, and two similarly weathered cups. Her eyes finally met those of the elf's, slightly narrowed in concern. "Want to talk about yesterday?"
Merrill froze, then looked away. "Isabela brushed it off. Even had a laugh out of it. She may have been stealthed but..." Merrill murmured, thoughts traveling back to her mishap. "I always say magic is a gift but what good is it if I can't even use it properly? I even dabble in blood magic. El'garnan, I'm such a fool."
"Then I'm a fool as well. I got Aveline too, remember?" Hawke retorted with a smirk, pouring the steaming water into the tea pot.
Merrill frowned, watching Hawke fall into a seat beside her. "That's different, it wasn't even a spell."
"But still magic." Hawke took Merrill's hand then stroked the line between Merrill's brows with the thumb of her other hand, offering a small smile as she did. "I'm not going to condone your use of blood magic but you have to realize that magic is both a gift and a weapon. It can cause just as much harm as a blade or an arrow to people we care for, if we're careless. The most we can do is to ensure it never happens again."
Merrill kept her eyes on the table for a while, not offering any reply. She then took the tea pot and started pouring the steaming beverage into their cups, serving Hawke before herself. Her olive eyes focused on the dark liquid, frowning. "Oh, I think we may have over-steeped it. I'm afraid it won't do your cupcakes justice. What do you think?"
Hawke took a small sip from her cup. "It should do." She set aside her tea cup then tugged at the corners of Merrill's mouth, shaping it into a smile. "It tastes better if you smile, Love." Hawke said, then broke off a piece of the pastry with a fork, raising it close to the elf's mouth.
Merrill failed to suppress a genuine smile. She closed her eyes and bit the offered pasty. "Creators what have I done to deserve you?" she asked after finishing the tidbit, her voice swelled with emotion.
"Fishing, are we?" Hawke laughed as she took a bite from her handiwork, chasing it with the tea. She then leaned forward, touching her nose to Merrill's, dabbing some blackberry filling on the latter's cheek.
Green eyes trailed to the side, following Hawke's thumb upon the flustered cheek. Merrill shivered when her lover's lips drew so close she felt her breath upon her mouth, Hawke's sultry voice then assaulted her long ears with a whisper, "You're the most selfless and generous person I've ever met. And don't even get me started on the physical aspect of it, I'll end up ravaging you." Hawke's warm tongue then lapped the filling from Merrill's cheek, jolting desire so great the elf was trembling. The smaller woman closed her eyes and parted her lips, waiting for the inevitable kiss.
"Shit. Oh, shit."
The curses made Merrill peek an eye open and saw a very flustered and fidgety Hawke, already inching away from her. "Hawke, what's wrong?" she asked, alarmed. A thought crossed her mind, hence she took the scarf around her neck, sniffing it. "Mythal, do I really smell that badly?" Merrill inquired, quite embarrassed.
"No, no!" Hawke's eyes darted in all directions. She began wolfing down her cupcake. "I just," she mumbled, crumbs spilling from her mouth. "Remembered! Something," she washed the pastry down by gulping the remaining tea. She coughed, then withdrew a hanky from her pocket and dabbed her mouth clean, manners getting the better of her. "Right, Aveline told me she has a lead on the qunari delegation." Hawke rose from her seat and backpedaled to the door. Merrill followed her, obviously confused at the abrupt change of mood. "And I'm supposed to meet her in the Hanged Man, like, right now." She rubbed the back of her head, looking away from the elf. "I'm really sorry," Hawke quietly offered.
"It's...alright." Merrill said tentatively, masking her disappointment as she held the doorknob. She was far too hot and bothered to be left with just her earlier reading. "Could I go? I promise I won't mess up this time," she asked hopefully.
Hawke pouted. "Aww, sorry Love. Templars are involved and Fenris is coming." She took Merrill's dainty hands then kissed them. "I don't think I can hold myself back next time he badmouths you."
"Oh." Merrill said flatly, unable to hide her feelings this time, but still gave her lover a small smile. "Please do take care of yourself, you're an apostate too. Well, not a blood mage like me, but still, templars won't take kindly to you. Promise you'll keep safe? Oh, and the others too, of course? Who else is going, anyway?" Merrill rambled, trying to keep her frustration at bay.
"Aveline, Fenris, and Sebastian. You know, the templar-friendly bunch." Hawke quickly kissed Merrill's hands again, then her mouth. "I promise I'll be safe. And," here eyes intently met Merrill's gaze. "I'm really sorry for running off."
"It's alright, ma vhenan," Merrill whispered, trapped by the blue orbs fixed on her. The dim light of the house only heightened their almost luminous allure. "Thank you for the cupcakes, they were delicious," she said, peeling her eyes away when she felt her libido rising. She then opened the door for her visitor, fidgeting as the warm feeling refused to go away. "Could I drop by your estate later? And use the bath, too? They've been rationing water here since it's summer and I just can't feel clean with only a bucket of water. Or less, really. They've been stingy."
Hawke let out a chuckle. "Of course you can, Love, you need not ask. But don't wait up, I might be late." Hawke then stepped out, still with an apologetic look. "I swear I'll make it up to you."
"No need, silly, I understand. And thank you for...oh, I already thanked you for the cupcakes, didn't I?" Merrill's eyes surveyed the immediate surroundings and seeing no one, she pecked a soft kiss on the taller woman's cheek. "Dareth shiral, Hawke." Merrill blushed as she uttered her farewell.
Hawke rubbed the spot where she was kissed. "Mmm. I'll see you soon," she said, grinning widely even as she walked off.
Merrill closed the door and rested her back against it. Was this how Hawke felt whenever she got... jumpy midway whatever they were doing?
Probably, she decided.
She frowned, she would never have thought it was this unpleasant. The elf then felt guilty, for herself and her lover. Love is good, but with it came certain needs, which were all too apparent at the moment because of the unsatisfied warmth Merrill was left with.
With renewed vigor, Merrill went back to her room and fell on her belly upon the lumpy mattress. She then grabbed beneath her bed and got the first smut rag she had her hand on, studying with much ardor as she would her books on elven history.
"Maker's breath that was close." Hawke rubbed her temples as she stomped to the Hanged Man from the alienage. "Why is seduction my first instinct these days?" she muttered to herself, ignoring the curious looks she got from bystanders. She had been such a philandering trollop for the past few years that seduction had been second only to survival as far as her instincts went. The way Merrill kept freezing was frustrating, but she promised herself she wouldn't force it until the adorable, sweet, pretty and irresistibly innocent Dalish loosened up on her own. Hawke groaned. Given those thoughts she must really be losing it. "Aveline wasn't kidding."
Hawke sighed as she stopped walking, her similarly colored eyes looked up at the sky above.
"I'll just have to try harder at being busy."
