Title: Beyond the Mirror Chp. 13
Author: LadyDragonka
Game: Dragon Age 2
Characters/pairing: M!Hawke, Merrill
Disclaimer:
Bioware owns Dragon Age universe and its characters.
Do not paw Samael & Fawn & Ichabod. They're mine!
"Boring! Boring! Snoring!" Samael threw the books at Varric one by one, shouting every word a bit louder than the previous one.
"All right, Hawke! Have it your way! Stay forever this silly, awkward oaf without any political acumen or actual influence on anything!" Varric lost his composure, kicking the books about diplomacy or decent behavior lying around him.
Merrill crawled to Samael's ankles on all four, giggling and dragging the empty wine bottle with her. "He's… he's not silly, Varric. He is… he's so smart and… mine, and…" she burst out laughing, hugging her lover's thighs with such a vigour she took him down. Varric observed the two wallowing lovers kissing each other with a patronizing cold look, shaking his head. He sighed and keeled over next to Aveline who was holding her still first glass of red wine and was submerged in a serious debate with Sebastian about the Chantry involvement regarding the Qunari. They both fell silent, glancing at the grumpy dwarf muttering to himself something about reckless boys good for nothing, then their gaze landed on the lovers as well, whispering something and pawing each other in a tight hug.
The noise coming from the table was telling them Fawn was just about to convict Isabela of cheating during their Wicked Grace game, Fenris was guffawing, spilling the wine all over his chest and Anders was cuddled by his side, snoring and dead to the world. Ichabod was fidgeting on his chair there, obviously not participating the game, then he slid closer to the blonde mage and started tying a garish ribbon he found in his pocket around his forehead. His parrot was swaying on his shoulder, watching its master's doing with a cocked head.
"I have no clue how this irresponsible lad with his frolicsome elf became our leader and how he gained his wealth, but it certainly wasn't because of his diplomacy or skills." Varric gave a wry shake of his head nodding towards the lovers. Samael was still sitting on the floor, leaning back on the wall now and gulping down the nearest bottle with alcohol he found; Merrill was straddling him and clinging to him like a tick with a blissful expression on her face.
Both Varric and Sebastian were surprised when Aveline said with an indulgent voice "Leave them be, Varric. They deserve some time to be reckless and… blithe." Her voice trailed off as her eyes got veiled with tears when she recalled Samael's venomous speech at the Coast. She avoided Donnic during this last week with a strict stubbornness although he tried to speak with her several times.
"Does that mean you forgave me?" A penitent voice made Aveline twitch and when she looked up Samael was standing right next to her with a limp Merrill in his arms.
"I certainly did not," Aveline pierced him with an indignant glare and Hawke just shrugged like he would ask again a few days later then. A shy hand touching his shoulder made Samael glance behind him and he was once again ensnared with those empty milky eyes, gaping at him.
"What is it, Ichabod?" Hawke asked politely since this was Ichabod Bane's mansion.
"If I may borrow you, Messere Samael?" Ichabod's grasp on his shoulder tightened and he bared a golden tooth at Samael.
"Don't Messere me, Ichabod. Call me Samael. What do you need?" he asked, nervously watching Ichabod's fidgeting and crackpot chuckling.
"Let's play a game, oh yes a funky game indeed," he squinted at the passed out Merrill with a lewd expression.
"Sure, why not?" Samael laughed and they both sat down to a small table, Samael still holding his woman on a lap now. Ichabod pulled out three walnut shells and a single pea, grinning at his opponent when the rest of them came closer, curious about what was going on.
"You guess where's the pea, lad. If you find it, you are free to ask me a question. If not, I will be the one asking you a single question and you would be obligated to answer it." Ichabod started his speech with a dark cackling, but it eventually turned into an ominous sneer. Samael stopped laughing when he realized this wasn't just for fun, yet he nodded in agreement, watching the white eyes flashing in the darkened room.
It was like the parrot was just waiting for Hawke's willingness to play games with its master and then it flew away from his shoulder, squawking "Man overboard, man overboard!"
"Let's begin then!" Samael laughed again but this time his smile didn't reach his eyes, yet nobody noticed; nobody but Ichabod.
Ichabod covered the pea with a shell and started moving the shells, but he was rather clumsy, moving them slowly enough to follow the correct shell.
"Follow the pea! Where's the pea! Ask my aunt, ask my pup or ask thee!" Ichabod rasped, stopping moving the shells with a victory grin. They all were watching him with their mouths hanging, wondering if this was a bad joke or if Ichabod was serious.
A mute question regarding Ichabod's sanity crossed Samael's mind again, but he appointed a middle shell in silence, Ichabod lifted it up and scowled at the pea beneath it. The watchers burst out laughing, patting Samael's shoulder, others tittering about Ichabod's poor attempt to confuse Hawke.
"Ask," Ichabod glared at Samael, setting his jaw after this terse statement.
"Well, what about your eyes? Why are they, you know, white, without pupils or, you know…?" Samael scratched his head, his eyes fixed on Ichabod's face.
"I was a naughty, naughty boy and the Qunari plucked them away. These white marbles are just… a grotty substitute." Ichabod replied immediately, bored, like he had expected this question from the beginning.
"But you do see me! How it comes that—"
"Eh-eh, lad! Just one question allowed!" Ichabod interrupted him, all but shouting his objection. "Now, here we go, where we go! Where we go, nobody knows!" He shuffled the shells again with an unexpected dexterity, his hands turning into a smudge. "Tadaaa!" he yelled afterwards, gesturing towards the shells.
"Uhm, that was… quick," Samael scratched his head again, realizing Merrill had woken up and watched the game as well. "This one?" he pointed his finger at the left one.
"HA!" Ichabod guffawed when the shell uncovered an empty spot instead of the pea. "My turn, my turn!" he rubbed his palms, his eyes gliding over the Hawke's body. Everybody expected a naughty question judging by Ichabod's salacious expression and they all fell silent when the question finally cut through the air. "Are you able to love?"
Samael froze on the spot after this simple, yet complex question, staring at his rival awestricken. His gaze then slipped at Merrill who was now facing him, waiting for his answer breathless.
"Yes. Yes, I'm still… capable of love," Samael breathed out an answer into deafening silence, staring at the tipped-over shell. His eyes clashed with Ichabod's a second later and Samael glimpsed a brief smile on his lips.
"Abandon the ship! Abandon the ship!" They all twitched at the parrot's croaking, but no one laughed this time as an awkward silence crept back into the room.
"Five'll get to ten, ten'll get to twenty, fifty'll get to hundred, double your money, double your money, just catch it once! One time, one time, one time!" They all jumped as Ichabod cried out, scrambling the shells in an insane pace once more.
"But you're not playing for money," Varric dared point out the obvious.
"You need to hypnotize with your words!" Ichabod looked up at him, genuinely surprised he had to explain something that basic. "And I can hypnotize with my cat-like movement as well!" Ichabod roared in laughter, but it was a sound that chilled their bones. He shuffled the shells again in almost imperceptible moves. "Now how slick was that?" he asked the audience, an ugly grin on his lips.
Samael's quiet voice entered the uncomfortable silence that followed after a moment. "Do you know why people play the shell game, Ichabod?" he asked in a light conversational tone.
"They think they can beat the odds," Ichabod squirmed in his armchair, his fingers floating above the shells.
"Wrong. They think they can beat you. They think they're smarter than you. In this case they're right," Samael sneered, because now he knew for sure Ichabod was playing some nasty game with him and he refused to be his toy thing.
"Maybe I'm smarter than you think, Samael Hawke," Ichabod leaned forward and suddenly he looked very sane and serious.
"You're smart enough to play stupid then?" Samael didn't realize it but his grasp on Merrill's torso was tightening along with his rising anxiety.
"I'm so smart I'm practically retarded!" Ichabod crackled with an insane voice, tilting his head up. "Now, lad, where's the pea, hm?" he pierced Samael with his peculiar eyes again, crouching above the shells like a hunchback with a vulture expression.
Samael had no idea where the freaking pea was, so he just pointed the middle shell, not taking his blazing eyes off his rival's face. Ichabod's face darkened since the shell revealed the pea.
"My turn," Samael hissed, leaning backwards in his armchair. "Have we met before?" he went all in, watching Ichabod with his eyes narrowed.
"Yes," a calm answer came right away along with a raised hand forbidding Samael asking the next obvious question - where or when. Ichabod then mixed up the shells in such rapid movement they all were able just to see his gaunt hands flashing in the dim light of several shortening candles. He peered askance at the silent Samael who once more had no idea where the pea was, but he was growing tired of this odd game, so he just appointed the right shell, intending to end this charade soon.
The shell revealed no pea again and a rhapsodic smile sprawled out on Ichabod's face. He watched Hawke while the rest of them were staring at them with rapt attention for a long minute before he asked his question.
"What makes you think your father's dead, Samael Hawke?" Ichabod made sure his words were slow, lucid and… mocking. If Samael had expected a very unpleasant and prodding question, this exceeded his worst anticipation. Nothing could have prepared him for this pointless reopening of his old wound only to realize it was still very much alive and agonizing. Samael pushed Merrill gently out of his lap and bolted out of the mansion, reeling like a drunk. They all watched his flight in silence, their faces mirroring miscellaneous emotions, but somehow they knew his staggering wasn't because of the alcohol.
oOo
When Samael took a deep breath behind the closed front door he realized he needed to get further than that from Ichabod, the curious companions and their persistent questions. He hadn't thought twice before he started running away, running like a little boy that broke a window with his slingshot. His lungs happily inhaled the fresh warm breeze which was growing salt with every step he took closer to the sea. When he reached his usual spot in the docks he was panting and he bended over, staring at the horizon which was darkening with purple and reddish shades.
When his breathing calmed down he sat down on his step, only to jump up a second later, pacing on the last step leading to water like a predator unable to cross the sea, but wishing indeed it could. Why Ichabod felt like bringing up his father was beyond him. And he said they had met before, but Samael had no clue who this man was or what were his intentions. A familiar ship with white reefed sails and a name Crab's Crap on side caught his eyes and Hawke halted in the middle of a step, bewildered by the sight. It was his ship now. At this very moment Samael could have run to the Hanged Man to gather a small crew there and pull up the anchor, leaving these cursed Kirkwall shores immediately. All right, maybe he would grab Merrill first. And Charon. All right, maybe he would have to pick up his treasure first, hidden in several places. And say goodbye to his friends of course.
Samael sighed. Clearly he couldn't afford to leave this city yet, but he was also sure he would realize when the time would come, when he would be free to leave, all the business wrapped up here properly, all goodbyes said in time and he would finally head back home to Fereldan. Ah, Fereldan. How often he had lived through a runaway from the Lothering again and again in his dreams, faces of his dead kin peering at him from every corner. A ring literally squirmed on his finger in urgency, ripping him out of his gloomy ruminating and the ring stone illuminated his face with a deep mossy green flashes when he brought the hand in front of his face. Merrill was searching for him; he was able to feel her anxiety about his disappearance and her indecision about not wanting to disturb him when he ran away to be alone.
"I should have known you were incapable of doing such a simple task as searching the coast for my brethren," a familiar voice grumbled behind him, but Samael didn't bother with turning around and facing the Arishok.
"I have been looking for your precious karataam for hours there. Not my fault there were simply no traces of any Qunari corpses, belongings, or whatever," Samael shrugged, collapsing on the upper step, hypnotized by the horizon again. The sun had already drowned in the sea and the first veiled stars were peering shyly at the world beneath them.
"You are upset," the Arishok threw in a casual comment after several minutes of comfortable silence during which he had sat down next to Hawke who was still lost in his thoughts.
"I'm upset," Samael echoed the statement with a distant expression, not taking his eyes from the sea.
"Why are you upset?" Hawke was surprised when he noticed a genuine interest in the Qunari's question.
"A man reminded me of things I decided to suppress forever if possible, yet they keep haunt me like the hell hounds. I see them every time I look back, sniffing me, grinning at me, like they are about to grab me by my ankle and never let go…" Samael's thoughtful voice trailed off as he realized he let himself go off guard, saying his whirling thoughts out loud.
"There must be a reason you keep returning here, Hawke." The Arishok's words were hesitant indeed, but his curiosity bested his intentions to keep neutral and unconcerned.
"It's… quiet here." Samael replied, but the question kept burning him. "It's not here like in the Hightown - mess, everyone is rushing somewhere, everyone constantly wants something from me…" He picked up a little stone fallen off from the stairs and hurled it with all his might as far into the sea as possible. "This is little spot which is only mine by night, where I can breathe freely and think," Samael glanced at the Qunari who was observing Samael's profile thoughtfully.
"Do you mind if I share this spot with you at night?" the Arishok asked in his own forthright way. It occurred to Samael how easier would be the relationships among people if everybody was this honest and outspoken.
"No," he replied when he thought about the question for ten seconds. "No, I do not mind. In our own way we're both condemned to stay here and we can only wish that one day we both would return home." Arishok was able to detect a bitter undertone, but before he could say anything Samael turned to him, looking straight into his bottomless dark eyes with a careworn expression he hadn't seen in the proud human's face before.
"I'm… stuck here, Qunari. Surely you know the feeling. I would love to return home, but I can't. Not yet, at least," Samael sighed, glancing at his listener again.
"So why can't you? What is it that keeps you here?" Arishok rubbed his ear, removing an elaborate golden jewel off it.
"And what keeps you here?" Hawke countered with a gutsy question.
"I'm denied the Par Vollen until I find what was… lost," the Arishok finished his statement in whispering like nobody was supposed to hear that, not even Hawke. When Samael saw the Qunari wouldn't say more and that his eyes were asking him mutely about the same thing, he just sighed.
"It's complicated. I still have much to do here, not to mention I'm held in check by the Viscount on matters concerning yourself and your lovely minions." Samael shot a fretful glare at the silent Qunari who just leaned backwards, supporting himself on his grey muscular arms. Samael almost forgot he wasn't alone when the Qunari broke the silence after a long pause.
"You should see it one day," he muttered more like to himself than to Hawke.
"See what?" Samael snorted with an arched eyebrow.
"You cruise the Venefication sea during the starless nights, during the perfidious storms with forked lightning crossing the sky, during the calm days when the sun hangs high above your head and you retire to your small ship cabin to hide from that merciless burning sunlight. You are restless when you reach the waters of the Northern Passage, knowing your mind is calling just for one thing and one thing only. And one morning when the mist lifts up suddenly, you can see it…" the Arishok's voice died away and he wasn't aware that Samael was watching in rapture his almost dreamy face during this long ardent speech.
"See what?" Samael breathed out after a moment of silence, impatient to know and intrigued.
"The white shores of Par Vollen, the familiar rugged cliffs welcoming you and you are grateful when the breeze shifts and you can smell… home." The Arishok rounded up his narration, not really realizing that he had just revealed himself to a petty human, the one he was supposed to abhor and overlook. If the Qunari was concerned that Hawke would mock him for this unusual outburst or his yearning for home, he could remain calm since Samael was speechless and a faint smile was frozen on his lips.
"You do realize your Saarebas has been watching us for long minutes now, right Hawke?" the Arishok interrupted his musing and Samael realized how distracted and lost in thoughts he had been since he had no idea they weren't alone. Usually he was perfectly aware of everything that was happening around him.
"Did you command it to look over you?" the Arishok scowled like he was insulted by the idea that Hawke thought he might have suddenly attacked him.
"No!" Samael shook his head, dispelling this thought. "And it's she, not it, Qunari," he chided the giant and glanced behind him just in time to spot a hasty movement in the shadows behind the column. He shook his head, this time with a tender smile tweaking his lips, feeling like he would like to concoct a little game now as well.
Merrill peered again from behind a column, murmuring to herself when she was able to see only one silhouette sitting by the water instead of two.
"Looking for something here?" A familiar husky voice made her jump up and whirl around; she managed to knock over a column of wicker baskets as she did so. "Or perhaps someone?" a voice continued and there he was, leaning on the wall casually like he was there the whole time she was spying on them.
"I… I had no idea where you went and—" Merrill faltered, closing the distance between them. Samael suddenly realized she might not have headed here to look for him, but to convince herself the ship was still berthed and he wasn't on his way to Fereldan without her. It was just a brief idea and silly indeed but who the hell was supposed to know what was going on in that little head of hers?
Samael had only one possible answer for her worries and doubt since his lips devoured hers, letting her know how deeply he appreciated she was here for him. The Arishok glanced behind him only once when the soft moans coming from the darkness exceeded some limit and he just rolled his eyes. Why the humans were so determined to engage themselves in this disgusting habit was completely beyond him, yet his eyes lingered at the silhouettes of the lovers longer than he was willing to admit to himself.
oOo
Merrill remained silent during their journey back home, adapting to Samael's slow pace like he was considering every step he made towards his estate. His mood was wildly vacillating between soul-rending because of the memories Ichabod had awakened inside of him, ambiguous emotions he had about him and his thoughts were disoriented and adrift in uncertainty and longing for his homeland.
Merrill could see his disconnection and the fluctuating shades of amber inside of the ring stone told her not to interfere into his internal struggle. It was simply enough that they were together and she was sure she would have come up with some silly ramble no doubt which would only annoy her lover even further. Her thoughts were whirling around Samael's father about whom he refused to speak with an avowed sorrow, then she got angry with Ichabod for bringing him up at all.
Their long shared bath passed in silence and without usual teasing and pawing each other and once they lay in the bed Merrill had no idea if she was supposed to remain silent, try to sooth him, or to avert his attention elsewhere. A sudden idea crossed her mind and she pulled a comb out of her night table, smiling to herself about her own shrewdness. Samael was lying on his belly, naked under the blanket coiled at his waistband and he had his blank face turned away from her.
Still without words, Merrill started untangling a few thick braids in his hair. He stirred but stayed still. When she made sure his hair was now loose she grabbed the comb and started to rake it through the black hair veil with slow and long moves, paying attention not to pull the hair. She had to smile again when she noticed goose bumps on his skin and her doing eventually drew a content hum from her lover. Who could have guessed this was the same person dragging the apostates mercilessly into the Gallows one by one, the same hands sowing death around him, the same hands that were playing passionate games with her body and soul night by night.
Merrill didn't realize she stopped combing and her pensive hands were caressing the broad back now, her eyes fixed on the matte black hair scattered on the pillow. Samael slowly flipped over, facing her now.
"Samael, when Ichabod asked you about love…" Merrill regretted her words already since her lover's relaxed face darkened immediately.
"It's all right, Merrill. What do you want to know?" he sighed finally.
"Why did you hesitate before saying you can love something? Love someone…" her voice was almost inaudible now, but Samael knew well she was asking him if he loved her. No, he wasn't ready to say it out loud, possibly never.
"Merrill, look, the only woman I have ever told I… that word… that woman had run away from me a day later without a word. Yes, I was just a boy back then, a silly boy with his head in the fluffy clouds with singing birdies," his eyes were set on the Dalish woman, but he wasn't really looking at her.
"Was it…?" Merrill asked after a minute.
"Yes, it was Lornalin, a woman who was my teacher for two years in the Lothering," he smiled against his will when her face flooded his mind. "But it's over for long years now," he continued when he noticed her restlessness and a flash of jealousy running across her face.
"But what if she shows up here suddenly? What if… she would want you back? Or what if she wasn't really gone the whole time and—" Merrill's words were like a waterfall of her exquisite ramble, her eyes wide open as she vividly imagined a faceless woman trying to steal him from her. Samael reacted with a light smile on his lips, shaking his head about her foolishness regarding their relationship.
"You have nothing to worry about, my little pariah," he whispered, pulling her down for a long tender kiss. Merrill moaned and her hand started automatically descending down across his firm belly beneath the blanket, but Samael caught it, breaking the kiss.
"Merrill, I…" he breathed out, painfully aware of her widened eyes gazing over his body. "Could we just… sleep?" he finished his clumsy question. Merrill watched him with a poorly hidden disquiet, ruminating if it really was her lover in front of her, usually unable to sleep without a bout of good night sex. Or two.
"Of course," she replied finally, fidgeting and pulling a blanket over herself.
Samael did notice her unease, but he just desperately needed to sleep it all off, not able to concentrate on anything right now. Merrill was completely taken aback when he shifted in the bed so he lay on his side, facing her, and he buried his head in her chest, inhaling deeply of her pale, clean skin right between her breasts and folding his arms between them. Maybe it was this vulnerable position he had assumed that convinced her everything between them was just fine and Samael just needed to rest and he needed her to hold him like a little boy so his awakened memories would go back to slumber deep in his mind again. Merrill smiled to herself when his hair tickled her under the chin and she let her arms slipped around him with a content sigh. She felt like she had him, all of him, in her own hands, having a hold over him like never before. With that last pleasant thought, she closed her eyes and entered the Fade.