The Hawke estate was glowing; all chandeliers were lit up, the soft light from tall candles in silver candelabra danced in the cold draft coming from often open front door and confetti were everywhere. The refreshments were served in library from three long tables, rivers of liquor were flowing through the whole mansion and guests stood in small groups, talking, laughing and trashing each other. Only Samael's quarters and Merrill's bedroom weren't available for the guests, Samael just couldn't stand the thought they all would paw his former bedroom and his new quarters were adjusted for the meeting with the Morrells.
Varric took care of greeting the newcomers; he was charming and witty as ever in his elegant dark blue outfit and a flashy golden mask on a stick. Bianca wasn't, of course, attached to his back now, but she wasn't far, oh no. Aveline arrived with three Guardsmen, Donnic among them, and to dwarf's disgust they were all wearing uniforms.
"How charming, Aveline. Surprisingly, your mask is a plausible copy of the Guardsmen uniform of this pompous city," Varric bowed to her, cracking a joke.
"Varric… it IS a uniform and I'm here because of the work, not fun!" Aveline berated him and the dwarf just rolled his eyes and muttered something about sarcasm.
"So you DO know what a word 'fun' means, right Aveline? I wasn't sure…" Aveline shot a venomous glance at the chatty dwarf who gestured towards the library, tittering when he whispered to her, "Go feed your lackeys, Captain."
Isabela sauntered by them, smirking and emanating the power of femme fatale. She wore a rather titillating white robe adorned with red lace falling to her ankles, but revealing her chest and shoulders. Her mask was made of black lace and white feathers. Judging by the leering of various gentlemen, she disrupted the flow of things with her assets. Anders was wolfing down a tray with seafood, leading a passionate dispute with the First-Enchanter Orsino and Sebastian was taken by a thoughtful conversation with the Viscount's son.
It wasn't hard to detect Fawn, since he was encircled with several noble women and other admirers dressed in expensive clothing. The women were waving their fans and fluttering their eyelashes to snatch the beautiful elf's attention. Fawn wore something similar to his usual silver and grey armor, only it was even more marvelous, shiny and sumptuous and his exquisite elven sword was replaced with two elven daggers with emerald hilts stuck under the belt made of silver leaves. He kept a light conversation with those who – in his opinion – deserved his attention and ignored those who were unworthy.
Samael stood just in his tight breeches in front of wide open dresser, listening to buzzing of countless voices in his estate, wondering why he even bothered with all this. Damn it, he was a solitary wolf! A warrior! Not some powdered noble, bored in his mansion with a boring wife, boring children, boring… everything. Well, Varric told him why this was necessary; to get to know the right people and potential business partners.
He sighed, wishing he could just put on his usual black leather armor and sneak out of the estate, but he stared into the huge closet instead, trying to figure out what the hell was he supposed to wear. At least he would wear his favorite black color and choose an outfit that would suit him. Certainly not the latest Orlesian fashion though, bah!
The task seemed simple enough, but Samael tried things on, took them off, tossing them around him, then picked them up again, combining them together, then throwing them away in a snit. Finally he sunk into the armchair in the corner, facing the truth that he was getting nowhere with the dressing up and he observed his whole wardrobe wallowing on the carpet.
Fuck my ass… Why I even bother with something that silly like clothing? Why don't I just put on the first black outfit, greet them all, then hide here again? This is my estate after all and my bloody masquerade. But… Merrill's gonna be there. I wonder what she wears… Focus, you fool! Maker, if only mother would be here now…
It was the first time when Samael genuinely wished his mother or sister would be still there; they would know well what he should wear and he was sure lots of things would turn out differently if only he wouldn't be alone.
Alone. That's what he was again. Alone because he pushed the only person, who was able to tolerate him, away. Merrill's attempts to get closer to him again couldn't last forever, yet he continued to test her. Would he be satisfied if he should see the day when she would seize her endeavour? Or would he curse her, himself, and the day they had met? Samael felt like running away and not stopping until he dropped dead of exhaustion, but he stood up instead and headed to the closet again, this time with a properly broody expression on his face.
He was poking around the wardrobe for a while, until he finally pulled out a pair of fine silk black trousers. Well, a good start. Samael donned them and a black bag buried deep in his closet caught his attention. He reminisced his mother gave it to him, but he couldn't remember what was in there. When he opened the bag a black silk jerkin peered at him. It was cut diagonally across the chest, a band made of black leather and golden ribbons belonged to this outfit and the jerkin was heavily embroidered with golden leaves, figures and vines. There was a golden Amell crest on the back as well; not too large, because that would look cheap and vain.
Samael buttoned the jerkin up and buckled the band, so the outfit would fit well and tight. The ornamental scabbard hung by his left hip and nobody would guess the weapon inside wasn't just a pretty complement of his outfit, but a sharp and lethal katana always thirsting for fresh blood. After he slipped on the simple black leather boots with hidden throwing knives he peered shyly into the mirror. Huh, not bad, actually not bad at all. Luckily Isabela took care of his hair already, so it shone dimly in the light of several candles and five neat braids were snaking through his black hair veil. Yet something was missing…
Samael raked through the jewelry box until he found the cold black ring and he clamped it in the fist before he put it on. He observed a couple of masquerade masks that the attentive Bodahn brought there earlier and chose a simple black silk one with golden edges.
Samael strolled to the mirror with the mask on this time and watched himself for a minute.
"Smile, you prick," Samael whispered to his reflection and a sardonic smile twisted his lips before he headed for the door.
oOo
"… then I rolled over on my back and those petrifying dragon claws were just above me, ready to rip me apart. I counted the last seconds of my life, regretting that I would die this young and good looking when the dragon roared and I smelled its rotten breath. It was then when I noticed Hawke straddling the dragon's head, each dagger jabbed into the dragon's huge yellow eyeballs. The dragon bawled out in pain and I—"
"Woke up, rolled over, and continued snoring. Right, dwarf?" The dwarf telling the story twitched and the whole group gasped and whirled around to that quiet, yet piercing voice. Varric smirked, the appearance Hawke just had made was right according to those ridiculous legends that he was spreading around the Kirkwall.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you your fearless host, Samael Hawke, the only living scion of the Amell family." Varric bowed to him and to Samael's surprise the company bowed as well. He would have loved to burst in laughter about that 'Amell scion', but somehow he was able to resist.
From the next hour Samael remembered only shaking hands, exchanging shallow pleasantries, insincere smiles and the persistent feeling of being somewhere where he didn't belong. When the main wave of introducing and greeting passed, he was finally able to breathe again and decided to take a look at his friends. But first he caught the Bodahn's arm, stopping him from his frantic scurry of making sure everything was in order, everyone's cup was full and the food was delicious and well replenished.
"Everything is well, Messere. I'm so sorry that those candles went out, but that's because of that dreadful draft and I will go immediately…" Bodahn kicked up a row, dusting a small feather out of Samael's jerkin.
"Relax, Bodahn. This… whatever this is… is meant for you to enjoy it, not skitter around stressed out if somebody would like an octopus on red wine. In case you haven't noticed I, all right, Varric, hired personnel for tonight, so try to entertain yourself and please, just keep an eye on Sandal." Samael gave the fidgeting dwarf an encouraging smile, patting his shoulder. Bodahn just nodded, distracted about the way that a maidservant was refilling the tray with cheeses, but Samael wasn't done yet.
"Bodahn… where's Merrill?" This quiet, but pressing question almost perished in the noise around them, but Bodahn knew well where she was, oh yes. In fact there was nothing that would escape the old dwarf's attention.
"Miss Merrill is sitting on the tree in your beautiful garden, Messere," Bodahn replied, unconcerned, like it was completely normal for somebody to sit on a tree in the night in a masquerade dress and mask.
"She is sitting on… what?" Samael opened his eyes wide, but his intentions to go after her interrupted the familiar deep velvet voice coming from the front door. Their eyes met and Fenris noticed a gentle smile curling Samael's lips. The assassin whispered to the waiting dwarf, "Send Isabela after her," before he marched to greet his brother. However much they were arguing lately, their meeting wasn't stained by it and Hawke's rather intimate greeting the elf drew the attention of present guests and servants as well.
"You came," Samael whispered when he reached him, surprised, relieved and insecure.
"Thank you for confirming the obvious, Samael," Fenris scoffed and his burning glance from under his eyelashes made Samael shuddering and averting his gaze.
"Feel free to tend to your business, Samael. I plan on plundering your fine Antivan whiskey stock and I'm in a mood to play with some abomination, so find me when you have time to spare." Fenris let his eyes wandering around the polished chamber and noticed in contentment that the two of them were under the fire of many eyes and many comments.
"Just… don't kill each other, all right? If something goes wrong tonight, Varric will have my scalp." Samael squeezed the familiar sinewy arm emanating the heat, leaning closer to the elf to underline his demand.
"I will behave then, don't worry. And I'll cut down anybody coming too close to your… scalp… Samael." Fenris leaned closer as well so his white hair blended into the black hair veil of the rogue. Samael just shook his head, teasing smile on his lips, and turned around to find Aveline. It wasn't a hard task since the clinging of her armor was rather conspicuous.
"Aveline!" Samael kissed her cheek, making her blush, and nodded at the rest of her silent crew. "Judging by your clothing and expression, you're awaiting a sudden and annihilating attack from… battery of brandy snifters and roasted pork chops?"
"Very funny, Samael. I know you well enough to know something might go wrong here and…"
"… and you're unable to relax and enjoy yourself for a change, I know." Samael finished the sentence for her. "Why don't you grab that armored toyboy and dance, huh?" Samael tittered when Aveline spluttered her drink, glanced at Donnic and her skin gained the color of her hair. "That's the spirit," Samael murmured into her ear, blinking at Donnic whose face was changing colors by the second, and continued his tour around the estate.
oOo
"Why are you squatting up there in the tree is beyond me, when there are so many interesting people around and free drinks." Isabela checked that her nipples were still covered by the thin fluid fabric of her dress.
"You don't understand, Isabela. They all look at me through their fingers because I'm an elf. They think it's humiliating to be in a company of an elf who is not serving drinks and pastry. I… I can't go in there. I don't want to. And Samael… Creators, what was I thinking!" The Dalish pariah hid her face in palms, her bare feet dangling in the air, her elegant slippers tossed in the grass under the tree along with a mask. Isabela considered the possibility of shaking the tree, pulling her leg or maybe some juicy threats… everything just to get that stubborn elven girl down.
"Look at that this way, Kitten. The whole Hawke estate is full of unmarried cunning Kirkwall bitches that are right now fluttering their fake eyelashes at Samael, pressing their bodies dressed in revealing robes onto him and sending seductive smiles towards him. All to get themselves into his bed, pop out some little Hawks and get the access to Hawke's wealth and status." Isabela used casual tone, but observed carefully Merrill's reaction. Obviously her vivid description worked since Merrill uncovered her face, her eyes widened in horror.
"Yep, welcome to the real world, Kitten…" Isabela pulled out a tiny phial from her lush cleavage and gulped down the alcohol within. Merrill opened a mouth but not a sound came out of it.
"Are you going to let them, Kitten?" Isabela went all in.
"But what if…" Merrill tried to reason with the adamant pirate queen.
"Nothing if, Kitten. You look stunning tonight. Just go in there and claim what's yours." Isabela saw rising determination in her eyes as Merrill jumped down, slipping into her borrowed silk shoes again. Isabela fastened the mask on her face and kissed her cheek.
"That's my girl," she laughed before they entered the mansion again.
oOo
Samael was engrossed in the fervent conversation about the Qunari with the Viscount's son, Sebastian and Varric. The Starkhaven prince, the enigmatic Hawke and Saemus attracted attention of the others and soon they were encircled with the crescent of devoted listeners, throwing in a comment time to time.
The crowd was parting by itself in front of Merrill and she was well aware of those admiring glances and of course, of those that judged her by her pointy ears as well. The women were making remarks about her dress, mask, partially covered tattoos and her graceful pace. When she reached the group where she had glimpsed Samael before, she took a deep breath.
Claiming what's mine. Right. Just do it. You can do it. They aren't better than you are. I will simply claim what belongs to me.
"If I may borrow our host…?" Merrill's slightly trembling voice interrupted their dispute and literally everybody's eyes landed on the motionless Dalish pariah. Merrill was grateful for the mask since she blushed and she fought to remain still.
Merrill's appearance left Samael speechless, ogling her in awe. She had a beautiful airy gown reaching to the floor, made of several layers of white and greenish delicate fabric with low cut neckline. A jewel glimmered around her swan neck, her mask was made of black feathers and green gems and her eyes were sparkling with mossy green stars, waiting impatiently for his reaction.
Samael slapped himself mentally before anyone else would notice his astonishment and drooling. He stalked to her, offering her his arm, just like he saw Fawn doing that with his ladies. They reached the center of room which was meant for dancing, still wordless, still not looking at each other. Samael used yet another move he noted the gentlemen were using when asking a lady to dance. Merrill had no need to copy someone since her grace and charm were natural to all elves.
Both rings flared when their palms met and they begun slowly dancing. Many eyes were fixed at that extraordinary couple and not all of them approved of this reunion.
"You… look nice." An awkward quiet voice said into Samael's chest.
"And you… are wearing shoes." Samael's clumsy attempt of flattery failed, but Merrill smiled to herself and nodded. He brought her chin up with a finger, so their eyes could finally meet. Merrill was pleased when she spotted a deep admiration and scorching lust in his eyes. There was nothing, there was no one beyond them.
"A beautiful necklace." Samael traced the jewel with a finger, still drowning within her eyes.
"You should know that since Bodahn said it was from you," Merrill breathed out. "You shouldn't have-…"
"It belonged to my mother's mother." Samael's gaze slipped at the jewel; it was made of silver fibres, elaborately snaking around each other and there was an oval gem in the middle, the color of a dove blood. All right, maybe Samael wasn't looking straight at the jewel… maybe a little lower.
"Miss and Messere Morrell," Varric's insistent voice interrupted their intermezzo. The message was crystal clear and Samael closed his eyes in defeat, crushing the quiet words cursing the dwarf between his teeth.
Merrill sighed and they parted; Fawn mysteriously appeared right between them and offered his arm to Merrill, ignoring Samael's bitter glare.
The assassin marched to the hall, nodding at Raen, but the woman standing right next to him snatched his attention at once. She was tall just like her twin brother, not thin, not fat, and her dark green eyes were sly and ardent. They were both dressed properly for a masquerade; obviously intending to blend in.
Haydée Morrell had a coarsely chiseled, very interesting, unbelievably asymmetrical face. There were white broad teeth in her wide coral red mouth; she had a narrow aquiline nose and pale skin that contrasted with her dark red, fiery eyebrows and hair which was combed up into a fetching chignon. Some tidbits about her face - Haydée was able to arch her thick eyebrows into a vertiginous height, one of her eyebrows was usually higher than the other one, and left wing of her nose sometimes flickered on its own, so the woman looked more nervous than she really was. It was that imbalance in her face what made it so piquant.
"Messere Hawke, let me introduce you my sister Haydée Morrell. Sister, this is Samael Hawke." Raen glanced around in suspicion, like he was expecting Samael's servants to attack them with meat knives and forks.
"Hmmm, lovely mansion. I'm glad you're doing so well thanks to MY lyrium," Haydée uttered, her voice bored and derisive. Filthy stealing bastard. Shove off into that shithole you came from…
"Welcome. Make yourself comfortable." Samael smirked, squeezing her hand, observing in satisfaction when her face twisted in pain as her bones creaked under his merciless grip. You redhead bitch, sending your minions to finish me off. Bring it on, whore of Orlais. This would be rough-and-tumble duel and I intend to win, you hoe…
But as the evening progressed Samael caught himself dancing for the third time with her, keeping her company. Under her stern façade, she was an intelligent and sharp-witted woman, knowing what she wanted and how to get it. Samael found himself genuinely interested in her.
"C'mon Daisy, stop staring at them and-" Varric approached her, patting her thin arm.
"Don't comfort me, Varric! Why doesn't he fuck her right here on the spot?" Merrill blurted and Varric fell silent. He wasn't used to hear words like 'fuck' from her innocent elven mouth and he blamed Hawke for that.
"He'll come around, Daisy. I don't know when, but…" Varric sighed, sticking a glass of white wine into her trembling hands. "Go and eat something," Varric whispered in almost paternal tone. They were interrupted when Samael and Haydée walked by them, laughing, heading for Samael's quarters. Nobody knew Raen was already there, waiting for them. When they reached the door, Samael opened it for her gallantly and they both disappeared behind it.
Fawn strolled to Merrill, intending to avert her attention elsewhere, but Merrill just hurled the crystal glass onto the ground and stomped away. The guests dodged her and some of them would swear her eyes flickered with red flames.
oOo
"So is that all? Just give you back my lyrium contracts for Kirkwall?" Samael mocked the woman nibbling the red grapes. She looked morose; she thought her charms had melted Samael's defense and she would get easily what she had come here for.
"Not exactly. I suggest you would give me back my lyrium contracts for Kirkwall, you… thief!" Haydée made a mistake, letting him to provoke her.
"Let's not be harsh, sister," Raen interfered. "I believe there's a solution and I intend to find it without assassins and poisoned apples." He half-smiled and they all knew what he was talking about.
"Maybe you should find a husband for your wild sister, Raen. He might be able to tame her," Samael growled without humor this time, recalling the thugs she had sent after him already.
The woman was ready to counter with some stinging remark but she shrieked in pain instead, jumping up on her feet. Raen jumped up as well, glancing at Hawke.
"What the…?" Raen breathed out, searching the Hawke's face in suspicion and panic.
"ARGH! I… Ah! It hurts! Raen, help me! Hawke! You son of a bitch!" Haydée shouted, writhing in pain, tumbling down. She obviously blamed Hawke for that. Both men watched in rapture like an invisible claws were slashing the woman's pale skin and Samael felt sick when he recognized those familiar deep scratches. "It can't be…" He whispered, raking fingers through the hair.
"Stay here with her, Raen, I'll send a healer. Keep it quiet, will you?" He hissed and bolted from the door, followed by helpless eyes of Morrells. Samael glanced around just in time to glimpse a white gown hem embroidered with green leaves, disappearing in his former bedroom. He took a deep breath, trying to regain decorum. He strolled over to Anders who was surprisingly swaying by Fenris' side, his arm snaked around his neck. He whispered to them something briefly and they both headed for Samael's quarters – just as inconspicuously as a mage with a Fade spirit within him and an elf with blue flaring tattoos could.
"Wait! You're not going with us, Samael?" Fenris raised an eyebrow.
"I have… other business to attend to," Samael snarled and they both quivered at his macabre expression, thankful that it was not channeled their way.
Again, Samael walked gracefully upstairs, granting a smile to his guests, but as soon as he was out of their reach he almost ran to that ornate bedroom door, noticing he was about to enter the cursed room he had been avoiding since Fade events.
When he kicked the door open and slammed it behind him, Merrill stayed motionless at the opposite side of the room, staring into the mirror in silver frame hung above the dresser. Her expression was lethargic, her eyes dead. Samael had no idea he had ripped a small blade from its hidden belt sheath. Merrill felt him standing there, fuming, piercing her back, his eyes on fire. The ring on her hand twitched in anger like it wished to get off her finger which was a ridiculous thought, that a ring could actually 'want' to do something. Or wasn't it?
"Any particular reason you are trying to mar my business negotiation by murdering my guests? Or you just got bored?" He hissed through his clenched teeth.
"LOOK AT ME! Fucking look at me when I'm talking to you!" His temper erupted when she didn't move. He stalked to her and turned her around, clutching her shoulders. He grabbed her hands to confirm the obvious – fresh deep cuts on her wrists. He threw her hands away like they had burnt him. Merrill stayed silent and indifferent which made him even angrier.
"Unbelievable! Fuck!" He raged around her, regretting deeply his promise he wouldn't hit her ever again. But the promise wasn't about not killing her, right? Huh, an appealing thought. Merrill shivered and pressed her body on the furniture behind her back when he jabbed the blade into it in such a momentum he pierced through the wood and the dagger was buried down to its hilt
Merrill felt a wave of defiance and jealousy flooding her mind and she waited for him to calm down a little, then sizzled, "I haven't done that because of your stupid business, Samael!"
Silence.
"What the hell are you talking about, witch?" Samael blew a fuse, halting right in front of her.
"I… I thought… that woman! I saw you with her! It was…" Merrill's voice died away and the tears filled her eyes when she searched his face for an understanding and found none.
"WHAT? You're saying… You are just jealous?" Samael gaped at her with an open mouth. His ignorance and inexperience considering the relationships was here again, peering at them from an ugly corner.
"YES!" Merrill exploded, slapping him hard enough his head turned to left side. He slowly swiveled it back, groping his cheekbone.
"Nice right hook." A lethal menace in his quiet voice. He was struggling to hold himself back and not return this… favor. Merrill just panted, hitting him again. Samael's head tilted on the other side.
"You're on fire, witch." Samael sizzled, pawing yet another sore spot. "Something else on your mind?" Merrill, having no control over herself whatsoever, just snorted and her hand shot out for the third time, only to be caught in the air by Samael's hand.
"Do you think I don't know about those late night visits that my lovely elven guest grants you every damned night?" This time, it was Samael's turn to yell.
Merrill's already wide eyes grew wider in shock. "It's not… we're not… we just talk, Samael, I…" Merrill peeped, her wrath vanished. Part of her mind was frantically musing about his words. So he was jealous as well!
"I don't care with whom you sleep, Merrill!" Samael laughed mirthlessly, but his fists slammed into the dresser, trapping her between them told her otherwise.
Merrill shut him up with a fierce kiss, biting his lip and scratching his bare arms. Without hesitation she unbuckled Samael's sword belt and the katana flopped onto the carpet. Ensnaring him with her lucid eyes, she thumbed the buttons on his jerkin open. She peeled it off him, stroking his bare chest with an impatient sigh.
"Seriously?" Samael growled, not playing her game. So why didn't he stop her? Why his hands grabbed her with the same eagerness and impatience she had?
"Beautiful dress," Samael ripped it apart, revealing her beneath the tattered straps of delicate fabric. His words were lost in hungry kisses that followed. Merrill's nimble fingers unlaced his pantaloons, not bothering to take them off; just pulling them down a bit.
It was frenzy, it was madness, this addiction to her and he knew it, but couldn't help it. Merrill felt his torment, his disconnection, but she was doomed with the same curse just like he was.
"Merrill… I…" He managed to whisper between two kisses.
"Shut up. Shut up, Samael. Take me. Just… take me." Merrill breathed out, her words tickling him in the right ear.
Samael swirled her around, slamming her into the dresser and the elf was able to see his saturnine face in the mirror. She cried out when he penetrated her with one rapid and violent move, splitting her nails on the wood of furniture. Merrill gasped, tilting her head backwards to devour his lips again. Her moaning was driving him crazy as he was thrusting into her again and again. Soon he wasn't able to watch them in the mirror anymore, he felt sick: sick of this weakness she represented in his heart, sick that he had missed this so much, that he wasn't able to live without her anymore. When they both reached a peak of their lust, there was nothing in Samael's head but chaos. The rings were burning on their hands, reminding them of their bond that couldn't be shredded. He staggered away from her, leaving her there standing, panting, revealed and vulnerable.
"Samael…" She whispered, the tears standing in her eyes again. "Stay. Please, stay tonight with me. Don't leave me again… I can't… I won't…" Merrill was gulping down the tears; she was at the very edge of her strength.
Samael's slowly raised his eyes until their eyes met and Merrill glimpsed the disorder within him for it was inside of her as well.
"No." Samael shook his head, dressing himself. His eyes looked like windows with closed shutters, impenetrable and distant. "Nothing has changed, Merrill," he whispered and then he was gone.
Merrill collapsed on the carpet, naked and crying. She threw the ring across the bedroom with a furious scream only to rush for it a second later. She couldn't find it at first, but when she did she donned it back on her finger immediately, the amber ring stone blinking at her in her relief.
Nothing had changed. Nothing at all. That was her greatest fear and yet her greatest comfort. He would be there in the morning, silent, cold, and untouchable.