This is a black day for Czech and Slovak Republic. Four of our best hockey players died today in airplane crash near Jaroslavl, Russia. We all will grieve for you and we are really pissed off you left us so young and talented.

Josef Vašíček,
Karel Rachůnek,
Jan Marek,
Pavol Demitra.

Rest in peace. You won't be forgotten.

"Maker created Bodahn's chocolate pudding, then He rested for seven days, stuffing His holy belly with it." Samael closed his eyes and put the last spoon with pudding into his mouth in reverent silence. Merrill giggled and put a finger coated in chocolate into her mouth as well. It was morning and Samael was sitting on a huge bag of flour in the larder, leaning comfortably on the wall behind his back. Merrill was straddling him, clinging to him like he could disappear any minute. Samael wore just his unlaced breeches and Merrill had just grabbed a blanket before they sneaked in there, hungry after morning bed exercise. Merrill's blanket was now coiled around her waist.

"Do you feel better, my little pariah?" The spoon tinkled on the stone floor and Samael pulled her even closer, wiping away the chocolate smudge she had around her mouth.

"I feel… good." Merrill breathed out into his ear with a dreamy expression, bursting in genuine laughter afterwards. "That potion of Anders' really is a small miracle, isn't it?"

"Tell me, did you really think you could actually win yesterday or were you just looking for a way to snatch my attention?" Samael laughed softly as well, tracing her backbone with a finger.

"I think… both?" Merrill pulled back and smiled back at him. "I mean, it worked, didn't it? You're here and you aren't going anywhere...?" Merrill finished her sentence with a hesitation. Samael shook his head about that half-question, half-statement.

"No. I'm not going anywhere. Well, not without you at least. Listen, Merrill, what did Fawn mean when he said he was going to take you out of the city?" Samael frowned suddenly, watching her.

"Oh. Did he really say that? I… well… I told him if things should go badly with you, that… but it doesn't matter now." Merrill blurted out, trying to snuggle closer again, but Samael stopped her. His words were very quiet when he broke the long silence that followed.

"You told him you would leave with him." Samael lowered his head and it wasn't a question.

"Yes, Samael, but you're not listening to me! I would never ever l—" A slow kiss stole her next words. Merrill moaned and felt her desire rising again. If somebody told her she would spend the rest of her life here in the darkened larder with her lover, she would be perfectly content with it. Maybe she would just ask for yet another bowl of Bodahn's pudding. When they parted finally, they were both breathless and panting.

"I think… I will steal you instead, Merrill. What would you say if I intended to leave Kirkwall, let's say in a few months, when I have all business wrapped up here? I won't lie. Since my arrival to Kirkwall I've been thinking about returning back to Fereldan, back… home. But now it appears I can't leave without you so… ehm… yes. What do you think? I mean… would you go with me?" Samael actually blushed, realizing he was babbling.

Merrill stayed still for a moment, watching the unusually fidgeting Hawke. "I have no clan anymore, Samael. We do have friends here, but, you know. But when I came to the alienage and then… you appeared in my life. But before, when we met at the Sundermount, I mean… What if we just… but that's stupid." Merrill pulled through her usual incoherent ramble when she tried to give shape to her whirling thoughts – unsuccessfully.

"I heard yes." Samael laughed at her restlessness, but waited what else she had to say. But Merrill just smiled with a wide, liberating grin and nodded.

"By the Paragon Varen, Messere Hawke! That was a dessert for the lunch today!" Bodahn peered inside, bending his arms in a tragic gesture above an empty pudding bowl. Merrill squeaked, tugging for a blanket with such a vigour it fell on the stone floor, revealing them both. The dwarf just rolled his eyes and slammed the door closed, mumbling something about he had a nug to cook

"Enchantment?" asked a familiar voice full of hope.

"No, my boy. We can't blow up the larder just because the landlord ruined my delicious and nourishing lunch." Samael was sure the dwarf wanted him to hear that, but he just guffawed until they both fell down from their flour bag. Just like Merrill, he felt… good.

oOo

Samael almost passed by the house he was looking for. The inconspicuous two-floor mansion was right between the Hightown and Lowtown and Samael walked through the creaking wicket when he made sure he was really at the right place. When nobody answered the door, Samael just shrugged and let himself in, walking slowly through the silent rooms until he reached the chamber where the fire was crackling. A person sitting in the comfortable armchair didn't even look up at the intruder, so Hawke just sank next to him into the armchair. The room was adorned with many beautiful weapons from all around the world, hanging on the walls, there were several bear furs on the stone floor and there was a sombre painting above the fireplace, capturing the ship with torn sails in the middle of the raging sea.

"I always hated the sea, Lord Hawke. When I was a little boy, my mother always told me the sea was the reason why my father visited me only twice a year. And, Maker, I sat at the shore every damned night, throwing pebbles into it, hoping the ship would appear on the horizon with my father's colors." Corff finally turned his blank face to the silent Hawke, piercing him through with his bright eyes. Samael noticed they had the same color as Charlie Bowbitter's eyes.

"Nothing I say will diminish the pain over a lost father, Corff. And I think if somebody would be able to do it, it would be even worse because it would mean you didn't love him." Samael himself was surprised at his quiet and reasonable voice and even more, when his words conjured a faint smile on the Corff's lips.

Samael Hawke, a mercenary who kills anybody anytime if the price is good enough, an inept lyrium contracts stealing merchant and… a comforter. Huh, that's certainly new for me.

"Why are you here, Lord Hawke? I don't blame you for what happened in the inn." Corff said after a moment of silence, interrupting Hawke's solemn musing, and this simple statement indeed astonished Hawke.

"You… don't? But those assassins were there because of me. The Crow who burnt the Hanged Man to ground was hired to take down me." Samael's hesitant words died away as Corff shook his head in vehemence, pouring two snifters of whiskey.

"Don't worry – it's a better stuff than I sell at the inn. More like sold at the inn." Corff's words were bitter suddenly and he gulped down the golden liquid, shuddering. Samael gulped down his drink as well and put the glass back on the small table along with a chock-full pouch which clanged. Corff understood and shook his head again.

"Keep your gold, Lord Hawke. My father left me a small treasure, so there's no need—"

"I bet that old cunning sea rat left you a fortune, but I promised, Corff. You need to take it or Charlie would haunt my sorry ass, by his own words." Samael's mouth corner twisted up, as he was reminiscing about the Charlie's last words and his relieved face, when Hawke promised he would help Corff. Young Bowbitter just shrugged like he won't argue about a willingly given gold and Samael stood up, intending to leave.

"He had called you a bastard from Fereldan several times, usually after some fight you provoked at the Hanged Man." Corff whispered more to himself than to Hawke, his voice was colorless and lost in memories.

"Ehm. Yes. I've got that a lot." Samael replied, feeling awkward.

"He had called you a bastard from Fereldan and he wanted you to have his ship, Lord Hawke." Corff looked up at Hawke, who froze on the spot after this statement.

"Are you sure?" Samael asked, not believing that for a second.

"It is written in his testament. I'm the heir of all his estates, trade manifests, various contracts - all but his ship. I'm glad you'll have it, Lord Hawke. My father knew I wouldn't set foot on the decks anyway." Corff managed to give Hawke a mild grin.

"Is it that cockleshell in the Kirkwall docks with a name Crab's crap on the side?" Samael had to laugh when he was able to remember the peculiar name of the Charlie's ship and Corff rolled his eyes, but nodded. It wasn't just an ordinary boat, oh no. It was not very large, but unbelievably quick old ship with several comfortable cabins. The masterpiece of old shipwrights from Llomerynn.

"Find me if you need me, Corff." Samael whispered finally, squeezing the lad's shoulder briefly, but Corff's hand caught his and their eyes met.

"Did he… did he suffer?" Corff's voice was husky and filled with sorrow. Samael was able to see the suppressed tears standing in the boy's eyes as he recalled two deep stab wounds on Charlie's torso, the eternal pain in the bright widened eyes, the dizzying stench of his pierced guts mixed with fresh blood, the possibility that Charlie would burn inside of his inn still alive, if Samael hadn't finished him off first. Was it really necessary to burden the lad with gruesome details about what had exactly happened before Charlie died?

"No, Corff, he didn't suffer. All he cared about in the end was you. Farewell." They both bowed to each other and Samael literally fled the mansion. He leaned on the front door, panting, searching the night sky for answers that had tortured his mind for years. The name he whispered before he slowly headed home was his father's name.

Merrill just glanced at his tormented face and moist cheeks after his arrival and she dragged him into their bedroom, undressing him wordlessly. She carried the clothing into bathroom and when she came back, Samael held his silver knife in his right hand, staring at it intently, leaning on the dresser with his other hand. Merrill saw the burning disquiet inside of him, she saw very well the hungry need in his eyes, need to relieve from the memories that was crushing him, from the ghosts of past that kept haunting him. She slowly pried the knife out of his doddering hand and put it back right on its spot in the drawer. Samael let her push him to bed where she was cradling him in her soothing arms until he fell asleep.

oOo

Samael woke up late at night when the thick log in the fireplace cracked and sent up a flaring cascade of sparkles. Merrill squirmed when he freed his flat arm from under her head and mumbled, "That doesn't prove anything, Isabela…" A tender smile tweaked Samael's lips about her usual night narration as he climbed out of the bed, not really knowing why he did that, listening to the silent mansion. Silent, if he omitted almost inaudible steps in the main hall. Samael opened the door a crack, peering outside, when a muffled "Ar'vanima" reached his ears. Hawke put down a blade he already held in his right hand and slipped out of the bedroom, creeping down the stairs. Fawn was fiddling with a massive lock on the door leading to his room which the meticulous Bodahn had sealed as he was ordered to.

Fawn finally realized his efforts were futile – he was no rogue after all – and he lost his repose, jiggling the lock. Samael couldn't believe he was able to sneak right behind the elf's back, unseen, and he ascribed it to Fawn's desperate attempt to get his stuff back, locked in the room.

"Need a hand with that, Fawnie?" Samael purred into the elf's ear and watched, guffawing, as Fawn whirled around, his eyes wide with fright and shame that he was caught during such a humiliating act.

"I would appreciate if I could pick up my things and leave this place." The elf regained his usual impenetrable expression and the arrogant undertone in his smooth voice tickled Samael's short temper.

"Not so quickly, elf." Samael approached the fidgeting Fawn, who was obviously uncomfortable with the closeness of a half-naked human.

"What? You're going to hold me a prisoner in your pitiful mansion, Hawke? Where's the legendary hospitality of Fereldans? Ah, wait, I forgot you humans are all the same. Same bloodlust creatures without manners, purpose, or dignity." Fawn spluttered out, taking a step back from the silent Hawke.

"Speaking of dignity, Fawn, was it honorable to be caught in the middle of night, breaking into your generous host's estate, trying to steal Maker-knows-what beside getting your things back. It wasn't demeaning at all, right?" Samael saw the rising wrath in the lifeless black eyes in front of him.

"How dare you accusing me of stealing anything!" Fawn's voice was quiet, but a pure outrage was burning throughout his words. Samael already noticed he had this effect on the elf every time they talked to each other.

"Errr, let me think. Isn't it what you're doing for living? Murdering the poor travelers and looting their bodies and caravans?" Samael chuckled and his muscles tensed. He awaited the elf's attack any second.

"Pah! A ruthless mercenary and petty thief won't lecture me about how I'm supposed to live!" Fawn lashed at the assassin.

"Oh, let at least that mercenary to call you a liar claiming you slew the Archdemon when it was our future king who died a hero there!" Samael enjoyed the astonishment and pure murder in the elf's eyes as he snorted and tried to slap the cheeky human for his insulting words, unsuccessfully. Samael dodged, dancing backwards, laughing openly at the elf. A small valise Fawn had on his shoulder thudded on the stone floor.

"All right, Hawke. I saw this coming from the very moment our paths had crossed. Let's settle this for once and all." Fawn threw away his silver cloak in a dramatic gesture, unbuttoning his leather jerkin. Samael bowed sardonically in expectation, stretching and watching the elf.

"Come on, elf. Put down the sword. Let's fight man-on-man like gentlemen. Also, Bodahn would kill me if he had to clean up your blood." Samael whispered and he wasn't smiling, not at all. Fawn nodded and hung the jerkin carefully on the door knob. Samael completely ruined the almost ceremonial atmosphere and revere silence before the fight, when he bended over hooting with laughter, pointing at the tattooed fawn on the Fawn's chest.

"Oh please, let me fondle that little pretty fawn!" Samael missed the first punch and he was wallowing on the floor before he knew it. He groped the sore spot on his left cheekbone, grinning at the fuming elf, who was approaching to punish the young man who was constantly mocking him since the day they had met. Samael waited for him to come closer, pretending he was knocked down for good, but then – one nimble kick and the elf was crawling right next to him, swearing. They fought on the ground for several minutes, but Fawn was aware he would end up pinned mercilessly on the cold floor if he wouldn't get out of the human's grasp right away. He twisted Hawke's arm until the elbow joint protested and Hawke roared in pain. He did the only thing that occurred to him, his mind veiled with pain, and he crushed the elf beneath the full weight of his body.

"Get… off… me, you oaf!" Fawn gasped, beating the human helter-skelter. Samael jumped up on his feet in an unexpected swift movement, kicking the elf's torso with all his might. Fawn moaned and crawled away. When Samael grasped his usually well-tended and neat, now disheveled hair, Fawn mustered his strength and took him down when he kicked him into the inner side of knee. Hawke howled and tumbled down like a rag-doll. Fawn climbed up at his swaying feet and stalked to the nearest object he could throw at the human. He ripped down a painting capturing a young woman drawing in the grass, intending to stick Hawke's head through it.

"Put it down, silly elf! That's my mother's mother, a heritage of the Amell family!" Samael groaned, nursing his knee, still on the floor.

"Oh. I'm sorry," Fawn mumbled and to Hawke's astonishment he hung the painting back on its place, making sure it hung properly. He snatched instead the cupreous jug showing the satyrs and nymphs, intertwined during their lovemaking, and hurled it at the standing up Hawke. Samael managed to duck so the heavy jug swooshed above his head and it chipped off the piece of the fireplace ledge. Before Fawn could do anything, Samael was onto him, knocking them both down again. They wrestled in silence, but the nimble elf was still escaping the Samael's merciless grasp, making him nervous and impatient. He wanted to capture the elf, so he wouldn't be able to make even the tiniest move, then force him to beg for letting him go, but, damn it, it wasn't that easy since Fawn was wriggling with an unexpected dexterity and strength. When Samael's despair reached the peek as he tried all his tricks and nothing worked, he twisted the elf's ear and to his amusement, Fawn squeaked and a pure fear was emanating from his eyes.

"Not the ears, you brute! I'm an elf!" he yelled at Hawke although he was only several inches away.

"And? You're an elf, so I can't touch your pointy ears or what?" Samael laughed genuinely about this twisted logic, but Fawn made him shut up when he punched him in his face. Hawke was stunned for a few seconds while Fawn managed to crawl on all four away, but Hawke caught his ankle, dragging him back in an insane laughter. When Fawn kicked blind behind him, Samael flew backwards, his shoulder almost dislocated. They clashed again in the middle of room, but then they both fell down at the same time, lying on their backs, panting and staring at the chandelier above them. Samael chewed on his swollen lip and Fawn rubbed his reddish disgraced ear, both lost in thoughts.

"You're not that bad for a human." Fawn interrupted the long comfortable silence, glancing at the rogue who had his arms folded behind his head now. "I mean… you're still quite insufferable and impertinent and silly and arrogant, but…" Fawn thoughtful voice died away when he realized he was saying his thoughts out loud. Samael glanced at him as well, surprised about this confession.

"You know, you're not that bad too, Fawn. For an elf, I mean. Of course, you're completely self-centered and conceited, there's not even the tiniest sense of gratitude in you and I hate the way you braid your hair, but…" Samael shut up abruptly, a nervous smile twisting his lips.

"I'm not this way because I would want to, Hawke. My whole life I was struggling alone for survival." Fawn sighed, touching thoughtlessly his tattoo.

"Well, I guess your father didn't teach you to fight and make poisons and traps when you were nine. Because mine did, instead of making mud pies with me and telling me good night stories about three griffons and a fidgety ferret." Samael laughed mirthlessly, slowly circling with his bruised shoulder.

"My father had sent me into the Circle when I was four year old, Hawke. You don't have to tell me about the loving parents." Fawn sneered, pawing his ribs where Samael kicked him. "And when I finally thought I was free, stupid Grey Wardens felt like having me in their ranks would be handy and I ended up with a chalice of the darkspawn blood in my hands. They were surprised when I threw the chalice at them and escaped as a beautiful eagle." Fawn's expression was dreamy and Samael didn't interrupt him, too afraid Fawn would stop talking. "But I was stupid back then, thinking I got rid of them. They hunted me down, pouring the blood down my throat anyway when they drove me into a dead end cave." Fawn shut up, his voice distant and marked by the reopened wounds in his soul.

"It takes… to drink the darkspawn blood to become a Warden?" Samael's eyes widened in disgust and genuine outrage that Fawn was forced to drink it. "Hm, wasn't it a secret, known only to Wardens?" he asked when the elf stayed silent.

"Yes, it's a stupid secret. But I don't feel any obligations to keep it just to myself since I didn't want to be a Warden." Fawn shook his head, looking straight into Samael's amber eyes, which were watching him for long minutes now. Fawn was surprised when he found there nothing but deep understanding and sympathy, which woke him up. After all, he didn't want nor need any compassion, and certainly not from a human!

"Fawn, how did you get those scars on your back?" Samael asked cagily, convinced Fawn would counter with 'none of your business' tone.

"Every year I choose a person who marks me with the new scar as a sign I live as a free elf, not tied up with the Chantry or the Circle. And regarding that burn on my back, yes. There was a Fereldan Circle of Magi tattoo And I got rid of it that very minute I was free." Fawn rounded up his explanation, wondering why he even shared his memories with this human. He felt he needed to divert Hawke's attention elsewhere. "But you're quite familiar with the scars yourself, aren't you, Hawke." Fawn added, watching the wave of scare flowing across Hawke's face, when he realized it wasn't a question.

"How do you know?" was Samael's hesitant reply as he averted his gaze elsewhere, ashamed.

"You fell asleep in the armchair one night. A blood stain on your under tunic caught my attention as I passed by you so I took a look." Fawn's unconcerned, yet curious voice echoed in the main hall.

When it was clear Hawke would say nothing more regarding his scars, they both climbed up on their feet again and Fawn started pulling the jerkin on, hissing when his bruised rib cage protested. A big brass key clattered in the keyhole and Samael gestured towards the open Fawn's room, feeling like he should say something, but couldn't.

Fawn studied his face for a few seconds before he moved towards the room, intending to get his stuff and leave. What was his surprise when Samael's arm shot out suddenly, blocking his way when Hawke leaned on the doorframe.

"You had not enough? Or do you want me to beg? Because that's surely not going to hap—" Fawn scowled, but before he could continue, he reeled, but a pair of arms caught him before he could tumble down in a very non-heroic way.

"Get your hands… off... me…!" he gasped and Samael let him go immediately. Fawn collapsed along the wall, closing his eyes, exhausted and embarrassed.

"Do you even have a place to stay when you're so determined to leave?" Samael asked a simple question, watching the elf. Fawn twitched, but there was no mockery in the Hawke's voice this time. It occurred to him that this genuine concern was even worse than mocking.

"No," was his terse reply, his eyes wandering somewhere by Hawke's knees. The arm, offering him a help to stand up, surprised the proud elf indeed and he clasped Samael's forearm and let himself to be pulled up again. Samael led the elf straight to his bed in the guest room, pulling the jerkin off him again. Fawn had usually very pale face, but now it was glowing in unhealthy feverish shades.

"Shouldn't I call Merrill?" Samael whispered when he pulled the blanket over the slender body.

"No. I just…. had a tough day. The caravan seemed to have just two sentinels, but who could have known there were four more inside…" Fawn managed to grin, squirming beneath the blanket.

Hawke chuckled shortly, shaking his head. "Sleep, Fawn." Samael turned around, reaching for the door knob.

"Samael?" A quiet voice stopped him.

"Hm?" Samael didn't turn back to the elf.

"I still don't like you." Fawn said, followed by Samael's quiet chuckle.

"I know," replied Samael, "but you will. I'm adorable."

They both burst out laughing and Samael left the guest room, feeling exhausted, yet content as ever.