"The Arlathan elves were all blood mages. Do you know what a blood mage is? Probably yes, since you live with one. We all heard the story of how the Tevinter Imperium managed to usurp heaven and all that but I know that they weren't the first to cross the Veil into the Fade, oh no. Do you want to hear more? Of course you do! Blood magic uses life force to power magic, but you already know that. The Arlathan elves were immortal. Can you imagine that? Who has more life force then an immortal? It was also stated that all Elvhenan people had the gift of magic once. It's not like in these days when the only few of us are still pure elves, such as myself or Merrill. The rest of them are inferior, blind creatures, condemned to serve humans. Now here's an important question - what if the reason for this was not an innate connection to the Fade but use of blood magic? Would that mean—"
"Maker, Fawn, you're full of shit. Stop telling him these stories. In case you haven't noticed, he's a war hound and not a lapdog, damn it," Samael droned when passing by them, sheathing his katana, and the elf and Charon both frowned at him for this impudent interruption. Fawn was lounging on a fur by the crackling fireplace with his legs crossed; Charon was sitting right in front of him, listening intently to the elf's narration. Samael woke up around midday, knowing he had plenty of work to do today although those several hours of rest weren't obviously enough after the last eventful night.
"It wouldn't hurt you to listen and learn something from me for once, shem!" Fawn gave him a wry grin, standing up slowly. Merrill scuttled down the stairs to them with an impatient smile, but her face froze when her gaze landed on her fellow elf. Fawn had no idea Merrill had told her lover about that stolen kiss, Samael hadn't given him any sign he knew about it, so Fawn assumed the kiss would remain just between him and Merrill. If he had thought twice about it or took a very good look at Samael, he would have seen a snake. A snake right before its vicious, well-aimed and lethal attack.
"Tell me once more what you're supposed to do, my little pariah," Samael approached Merrill, checking if her staff was properly placed in its back sheath. Merrill placed a lazy peck on his cheek before answering his question and she made sure Fawn would see the brief tender gesture channeled to Hawke.
"I'm going to pick up Varric in Ichabod's house in Lowtown. Once together we are going to get Anders, then we'll meet you and Fawn at the Black Emporium." Merrill happily declaimed her orders, not taking her eyes from Samael.
"And?" Samael got impatient when she skipped one part. Merrill just sighed.
"I'm not supposed to frolic through the city alone without protection or talk to strangers," she peeped, fidgeting under Samael's scrutiny.
"That's right." Samael scanned her face once more before turning to the dwarf. "Bodahn, don't open the door unless you know who's behind it. Remember that Fenris, Isabela and Aveline are supposed to meet me here in the evening, so settle them in the main hall and take care of them. I leave Charon here for your protection and—" Samael was interrupted when Sandal rushed to him from the kitchen, tripping over his own feet and landing right in front of Hawke who just rolled his eyes and pulled the young dwarf up on his feet again. To his astonishment Sandal gave him his usual broad, a bit creepy smile, reaching his clenched fist up to him. Samael gaze was flicking between the Sandal's beaming face and his fist; he wondered what was Sandal up to this time. The little dwarf opened his palm; looking into it himself like he couldn't remember what was inside of it, before he set his eyes back at Hawke.
"Boom!" Sandal said merrily, like this one word explained everything. Samael took from him a little black uneven pebble with a single elaborate silver rune on it, turning it in front of his eyes with curiosity.
"Am I supposed to keep it?" he asked finally, giving Sandal an insecure smile.
"Boom!" the dwarf nodded, clapping his palms.
"All right," Samael gave him a bit sardonic deep bow. "Thank you," he hid the pebble deep into his pocket on the jerkin, glancing at Bodahn who just shrugged like this was completely normal for his son. "Shall we?" Samael turned to Fawn who had finished dressing and checking on his splendid sword swaying by his left hip and catching the dancing flames coming from the fireplace.
"Ma vhenan," Merrill caught her lover's arm once they had left the estate and stood in the full sun. "Just be careful," she almost whispered to him, touching his chest briefly.
"You worry too much, my little pariah," Samael gave her a tender smile, meant just for her eyes. "What could possibly go wrong—" Hawke's amber eyes wandered towards the silent arcane warrior, who stood a few steps away from them, letting them know how grossed out he was about this delay, "—when I have our mighty Hero of Fereldan with me," Samael finished his speech, casting his eyes back at Merrill. Oh, she had noticed his sinister grin well, however brief it was, but she didn't dare ask what were Samael's intentions regarding Fawn.
"Why don't we all go together?" Merrill sighed, embedding herself in Samael's chest.
"I told you," Samael lowered his voice. "I'm not comfortable around Ichabod Bane and I don't want to see him any time soon," he added, spluttering the name of that peculiar person with venom. "And since Varric is living at his mansion right now…" Samael shrugged. He was able to see Merrill's uneasiness and tried to fix it with a long passionate kiss, perfectly ignoring the whispering around him and outraged glances from the nobles who were passing by them. Merrill let out a rather disgruntled moan when he broke the kiss, chuckling about her pouty face. Then he noticed the same feral lust in her eyes she had after they had woken up an hour ago, and his smile faded. He wouldn't admit it of course, but he bolted out of the bed like his ass was on fire, afraid she would want his blood, and covered his anxiety with a short speech about need to visit Xenon, then an important discussion with their friends about their safety in the evening, and even after that Hawke wouldn't be free, since he had a meeting with the Arishok at the docks.
"No frolicking, witch," he reminded her before he turned around and trod away. Fawn gave Merrill a thoughtful glance, stomped on a half-smoked cigar and danced away to keep up with Hawke.
oOo
"By the Forgotten Ones! What reeks!" Fawn crinkled his aquiline nose, trying to pierce the shadows inside of the Black Emporium.
"Let me guess," Samael sneered and drew aside a cobweb. "Xenon has run out of his ointment and decomposed for good." Hawke crossed cautiously the bridge leading to the shop, his hand clasping loosely the katana hilt. He stopped abruptly when he saw a headless skinny body lying across his path. Judging by the bluish skin, swarm of flies and a stench, the corpse was lying here for a while.
"Thaddeus…" Samael whispered when he recognized the tacky doublet Xenon forced the lad to wear in the shop.
"Hawke, you should see this," Fawn waved a hand impatiently at him, covering his sensitive nose with a linen handkerchief. Samael strolled to him after a moment, still watching Thaddeus with sad eyes, so he almost stomped into something what could have been Qunari torso. Now it was crawling with bugs and worms, but the pale skin with red paint left no doubt about whom it was once. Samael reminisced immediately about the heads sent to the Arishok right after the disappearance of his karataam, and also about the legs and arms hung on the chain by the Qunari compound.
"I guess the Arishok has his precious karataam back finally, however in pieces," Samael chuckled, but there was no smile on his sombre face.
"I strongly suggest you would use other words when describing him what we found here," Fawn dropped the hand with a handkerchief, shaking his head and glancing around the darkened shop in disquiet. Suddenly he froze and clutched Samael's forearm briefly. Hawke noticed immediately something was awfully wrong here the moment they had entered the Emporium, something even more ominous than the stench and corpses, but he still wasn't able to identify that cold feeling which was chilling his guts. Now he had confirmed even Fawn felt it too, whatever it was.
"What is it, Fawn?" he whispered to the elf, staying in the same position. Only his eyes were frantically roaming around him.
"I'm not sure. But we are being watched," Fawn breathed out, positioning himself so that he and Hawke were now back-to-back, so nothing could surprise them or attack them from behind. It was like the lurking enemy wanted to confirm their suspicion and a low menacing growl echoed in the Emporium.
"This… can't be good," Hawke unsheathed the katana and he felt immediately better when there was a long sharp blade between him and whatever was about to lunge at them from the darkness. "Not good at all," he sizzled and poked Fawn's back with an elbow, when a huge silhouette of a golem materialized from the shadows.
"I can't believe my eyes…" Fawn opened his mouth in disbelief. "It's a—" he didn't finish the sentence since the gruesome memories of golems devoured him entirely.
"—a golem, oh yes," Samael finished the sentence for him, grimacing at the stone giant. "Xenon's freaking golem. His name is Bombastus Gigantus Crumbum the Third or Fourth, I don't know," he added, wildly contemplating how to get rid of it.
"Is it going to help us to tame him?" the elf asked, watching the approaching golem.
"I doubt it," Samael replied.
"Very helpful as always," Fawn sneered at Hawke. "Here I hoped I wouldn't encounter more of these obtuse creatures, since I've already had my fun with them in the Deep Roads," Fawn remarked with a sour expression. The next thing Samael had realized was that the elf was no longer by his side and a second later the golem's fist swished in the fusty air, making Hawke duck into a somersault and causing him to almost decapitated himself with the katana.
"Mahariel, get your pointy ass here or I swear I'll have your rotten heart for dinner tonight!" Samael shouted, not even knowing if the elf was still in the Emporium.
"And what would you have me do, hm?" a mocking voice somewhere from above replied in nonchalance. "I had my sword sharpened yesterday. I don't want to make it blunt again because of nudging it into a huge pile of stone!" the same voice, only sulking now, yelled back at Hawke.
"I said get your fucking, sleazy, scheming—" the golem almost knocked the katana out of Samael's hand and he reconsidered his spiteful tone at once. "Come on, Fawn, he's so big!" Hawke panted, avoiding yet another powerful blow of the golem's fist.
"If you're done whining, perhaps you should let me finish the sleeping spell, you squishy human!" Fawn hissed through his clenched teeth, trying to concentrate. He couldn't help himself and glanced down at Hawke vigorously parrying the golem in admiration and he shuddered involuntarily when Samael dodged yet another vicious strike with difficulty, guffawing rather gleefully, yelling "That was a close call, Samael!"
"You don't say, Mahariel," Samael hissed at the elf, dancing backwards from the golem. "Maybe you should try another spell, since this isn't obviously working!" Samael's desperate words were drowned by the angry roar of the golem when he wasn't able to hit the nimble assassin yet. "Shall I fart him a lullaby instead?" Samael dared glancing at the elf who snorted in reply when he saw for himself his spell had simply no effect on the rampaging golem. It was at that moment when the golem finally managed to hit Samael's shoulder. Hawke whirled around after that mighty blow, feeling and what was even worse, hearing his shoulder creaking in protest. The katana clinked at the dirty flagstones since Samael's right arm was crippled right now. The golem swooped upon him, punching in frenzy every inch of Hawke's body he could reach.
Fawn was done pouting when he saw Hawke tumbling down with a scream of pain, but he could also see he wouldn't be able to get to them in time, since the stone creature was about to deliver a lethal punch aimed at the Hawke's head. However implausible it might sound, Hawke just froze, lying on the cold stone and squeezing the injured arm, and he simply stared into the lifeless stone face above him, his face serene and resolved, however his body was bruised and he was about to die.
Fawn let himself just for a second wondering about Hawke's obvious willingness to be crushed to death, and then he dropped the sword, raising his pale hands in front of his face, his burning gaze set at them. "We are the last of the Elvhenan, and never again shall we submit," he murmured, clenching his elegant slender fingers into fists until he felt the fingernails jabbing into his palms and drawing blood.
Samael closed the eyes, staying at his fetal position, when the golem's fist started whizzing through the air again. But he heard strange, unfamiliar sound instead of feeling a brief flash of pain and then oblivion. He cracked open his left eye only to open them wide both a second later. There was a thin shimmering silver shield enveloping him and the golem's fist reflected off of it, accompanied with an enraged bellow of the golem who was unable to reach Hawke for now. The next punch from the infuriated golem made the arcane shield shiver and Fawn cried out as though it was him whom the golem had hit, not the shield.
Samael sprang into action by that desperate wordless shout, knowing Fawn wouldn't be able to keep the shield around him much longer since the elf dropped to his knees, his widened eyes piercing implacably the golem.
"Come here and finish what your kind has started in the dark, forgotten corridors, gnawed deep beneath the ground," he sizzled towards the golem and the shield flashed in bright dazzling light, obviously getting stronger again. The golem staggered backwards from the shield and did the only possible thing – he went after the elf. Samael didn't see the first punch Fawn had gotten from the golem; he was only able to hear a soft moan coming from behind the broad golem's back as he reached for the katana with his left hand this time. He dragged himself up, ignoring the pain shooting from several epicenters throughout his body. He stumbled towards the golem from behind, thrusting the blade straight into the golem's torso with all his remaining strength only to be knocked down when the golem's arm shot blind in his direction. The golem roared, possibly in pain this time, and he tried to rip the weapon out of his back. At least it bought Fawn a little time, so he would be able to crawl as far from the golem as he could.
Samael hit the flagstones once more after he got punched, again; and this time he landed on his side and something hard and egg-shaped made a painful dimple between his ribs. A wave of pure fear washed over him when the shield around him blinked and went out, meaning that the arcane warrior was hurt or even about to die. Hawke groped the sore spot, swearing, then realized what it was in his pocket and he wasn't really thinking when he hurled the Sandal's rune stone at the golem. Samael had to cover his head since there was a shower of tiny icicles and snowflakes emanating from the spot where the rune stone had exploded, followed by a deafening silence.
When Samael dared uncover his face, he had to rub his eyes in disbelief, since the golem had turned into a pure ice statue, motionless, pellucid, just standing there like it had been there for ages. Samael's frostbitten katana was still jabbed in the golem's back. Samael crept on all fours around the ice golem, hissing every time he had to lean on the wounded arm, watching the statue in disbelief like it could become alive again any second. Nothing happened. Hawke's eyes widened though when he spotted Fawn lying helplessly on the stomach not far from him. He reached the elf and turned him around, brushing the fine hazel hair off the elf's face. To Samael's relief Fawn groaned, but his eyes remained close.
"They… they are calling me," Fawn whispered almost inaudibly, his eyelashes fluttering. "I won't go. I don't want to go. Not yet. Please, not yet…" his voice trailed off into something indecipherable.
Samael had no idea what the barely conscious elf spoke of, but that he was able to talk at all was a great comfort indeed. He gathered the elf into his arms, glancing around desperately. The pain raging in his shoulder became almost unbearable, but he forced himself to remain calm, when he started checking Fawn's body for injuries. His right leg was clearly broken and a darkening bruise on his left cheekbone looked frightening, but other than that Samael wasn't able to detect any serious wound. As he finished examining gently the limp left arm, he realized Fawn was watching him now. Maybe 'watching' wasn't the proper word here since his eyes turned into two black bottomless clefts.
"You fool," Fawn whispered, scowling as much as his bruised face let him.
"Ah, I'm glad to see you at your usual charming self," Samael replied, sounding much happier than he intended.
"Now you have a death wish or something? You've got your estate, you have Merrill and friends, wealth, yet you were prepared to die here. In this shithole! Next time I'll let you kick the bucket or I'll even help you, you…" Fawn's bitter voice faded into a moan when he tried to move his injured leg. "Are you insane?" he continued his questioning, squirming and clearly uncomfortable to be so close to Hawke.
"Yes," Samael answered the question with this simple choked word, since only this reply made any sense here. "Don't move, damn it," he droned; his eyes distant and thoughtful. Was the elf right? Why he let himself stare at the golem, doing absolutely nothing to save his skin, waiting patiently for a deadly blow like he had come here just for this one thing. Samael blinked this disturbing thought away, realizing Fawn had been watching him the whole time.
"Look who is preaching about insanity," Samael tried to change the subject. "What was that glorious speech about?" he asked the elf. "That part about finishing something that the golems have started in the Deep Roads?" he continued a merciless inquisition. Fawn tried to get out of Samael's tight embrace, but an intense pain took Fawn as he tilted his head backwards letting out a scream of pain as he did. Samael held back a scorching comment about the fidgety elves and he simply placed the palm on Fawn's cold forehead to calm him down. He wrapped his other arm around Fawn's torso, writhing in pain right now. Fawn relaxed, panting and setting his slightly open eyes at Samael's face once more. Hawke realized he was falling asleep, so he traced the elf's jawbone with a palm, shaking his body mildly to keep him awake.
"They'll get here soon, Fawn, don't worry," Samael whispered, reacting more to his own worries about Fawn's life, glancing into the corridor leading out of the Emporium. It was as if Merrill had heard him, walking through the sturdy door, smiling. Her smile froze though when she spotted first the headless corpse, then the slowly melting statue of a golem. She rushed inside with the name of her lover on the lips, glancing wildly around her, searching for him and covering her nose and mouth with a palm when the odious stench hit her.
"Over here!" Samael rasped, considering tossing Fawn on the flagstones, but somehow he couldn't force himself to do that. Merrill dashed to them, dropping to her knees and examining Samael like he was the one badly wounded. He gave her a calm smile, lifting the pale elf in his arms slightly since he was the one who needed immediate help. Hawke then nodded at Varric and Anders who were staring at the ice statue in awe.
"If you're done ogling the golem, we could use another healer here if you don't mind," Samael sneered at the blonde mage, who smirked back and approached the assassin with an obligatory question "So, where does it hurt this time, Hawke?"
oOo
Samael had an impression they were literally crawling through the darkening Hightown on their way home, but he was very content with the day. Anders volunteered to take Fawn back to the Hawke estate since he was pretty shaken after his encounter with the golem despite having his physical wounds healed by both Anders and Merrill. Varric with Merrill then continued to tend to Hawke's business and they had visited Samael's allies in Kirkwall one by one, calling for their loyalty and support against Raen Morrell. Varric and his agile tongue helped a great deal here, usually when Samael lost his temper or patience with this or that during negotiations.
Varric lagged a few steps behind the lovers, humming some vigorous dwarven tune, satisfied how the day had turned out and looking forward for dinner with Hawke, crackling fireplace and evening spent in the circle of friends. His gaze then slipped at those two silent silhouettes in front of him and Varric cocked the head, wondering what had caught his attention in the first place. They weren't talking to each other, not pawing or even touching each other as usually, they both were sauntering up the pathway with downcast eyes; yet there was something different or even odd about them. Varric had noticed they both had been walking on pins and needles during the whole afternoon, glancing at each other when the other one wasn't looking, not daring touching or interacting in other way than business-like. And when Varric had asked them in nonchalance to pass him the bottle of red wine in the Corff's house and they both reached at the same time for the bottle, so their hands finally touched each other, the dwarf would swear there was a brief flash of electricity between them, since they both twitched and pulled their hands back in awkward silence.
But the more Varric tried to figure out what was going on here, the more he got confused, since he wasn't aware the two lovers have had a fight or something and he was sure he would know since when those two crazy kids had a misunderstanding, usually the half of Kirkwall knew and even the pigeons on the Chantry roof were cooing about it. Samael felt the rising tension during the whole day and he wasn't even sure what the hell was going on and that made him even more disconcerted.
Once they had reached the front door of Hawke estate, Samael opened it for Merrill rather chivalrously, making Varric wondering for a second and realizing in awe that Hawke wasn't such a lost case after all. Samael was greeted in a clamorous way as he glanced around the main hall, realizing they were all there; all his friends. All his friends, except for…
"Where is Fenris?" he asked, upset, his eyes searching his friends' silent faces in disquiet.
"Messere, your elven friend hasn't show up yet," Bodahn dared entering the uncomfortable silence, genuine concern in his voice.
"He won't come, Hawke," Anders stood up, watching Samael with his eyes narrowed. "I need to talk to you about him actually," he closed the distance between them, glancing at Aveline who just shook her head like she was warning the mage about saying a word about the lyrium warrior.
"Why do I have the impression I'm not going to like this?" Samael muttered to himself, gesturing towards the empty armchairs by the purring fireplace. Bodahn brought them a quick drink before dinner which was no doubt yet another great, awfully opulent feast. Clearly Anders wasn't comfortable with Merrill sitting casually down on the fur by Samael's seat, but he didn't dare ask her to go away.
"So what he's done this time, huh?" Samael started the unpleasant conversation. "Drowned your lovely kitten? Plundered your stock of Fereldan Circle swill? Scared shitless your patients? Threatened again to drag you to the Gallows?" Samael realized he would be able to continue in the list of Fenris' sins for a very long, long time, so he fell silent instead, leaning comfortably back in the cozy armchair.
"Actually I wanted to talk about what you have done to him, Samael," Anders growled with a poorly hidden grudge.
"Me?" Samael stared at the blonde mage in amazement. "What I've done to him? I have no idea what are you talking about!" he shook his head, musing about some logic explanation.
"Of course you don't…" Anders peered askance at Hawke and blue flames flashed briefly in his eyes.
"I mean it," Samael defended himself, a bit narked about Anders' wry expression. "I haven't even seen him in —"
"Precisely, Hawke. You don't give a damn about him anymore! He served his purpose in your damned bed and then you tossed him away like a toy!" Anders finished his speech shouting and jumping up on his feet, enraged about Hawke's hypocrisy.
"What… How…" Samael thought he had heard wrong, but yes. Yes, Anders was really foolish enough to not only accuse him of not caring for Fenris; he even needed to let everyone know Samael and Fenris had much more between them than a simple friendship. The thought that Merrill would learn about him and Fenris in such way sent creeps down Samael's spine, but luckily for them and their relationship Samael had already told her about Fenris.
Samael slowly stood up as well, struggling to remain calm, realizing the whole room was gaping at him. Before he could open the mouth, Isabela marched to him, poking her index finger into his chest. "How it comes I wasn't invited to your bed merrymaking along with Fenris?" Isabela seemed genuinely upset that she had been left out. Samael just rolled his eyes about her rebuke, pushing her aside so he would face the mage again. A brief glance at Merrill told him she fought with herself not to scratch Anders' eyes out. Or maybe it was Samael who was to blame here in her eyes?
"Aveline!" Hawke turned to the silent Guards Captain suddenly and she almost choked on the oyster. "You seem to know something about this," he halted in front of her, piercing her through with his eyes narrowed.
"He threatened to, and I quote him here, 'decapitate my pony-boy', if I happened to tell you anything about him," Aveline shrugged, not really concerned about Fenris' threat. She seemed utterly indifferent to this constant relationship mess around Hawke.
"You have a pony?" Merrill squeaked out, crawling on all four to Aveline. "How come I haven't seen it? Does it have a name? Can I see it now?" she rambled, obviously thrilled, and her eyes were growing bigger and bigger with her every word.
"Merrill…" Aveline sighed heavily, shaking her head about Merrill's innocent question. Once Merrill searched the faces around her, she turned to Hawke with a puzzled expression.
"There's no pony, is there?" her face darkened, when Samael simply shook his head at her pouty question like there was no pony indeed. Aveline realized Samael was still waiting for her to speak.
"I don't know much, Samael. I just know he's drinking lately, drinking way too much," she pointed out the problem. "I'm not proud of myself, but I was forced to arrest him twice for causing a fracas in the Swaying Boar inn, and a week later the Guards brought him in again, since he was pissing on the Chantry door," she finished her narration, scowling at the tray with oysters like they were the reason for Fenris' rampage.
"Pissing on the—" Samael wasn't able to finish the sentence, since he burst out laughing, collapsing into the armchair again. "I'm sorry, Captain," he brayed in laughter, "but it all just sounds very much like my Fenris, you know…" he hid his face in palms to calm down.
"Fucking hilarious," Anders grumbled with his arms folded on chest, glaring at Hawke.
"ENOUGH!" Varric had run out of patience obviously as his shouting silenced the quarrel. "You," he jabbed his finger in the Anders' direction, "over there!" Varric gestured towards the seat next to Isabela on the sofa and she patted the spot next to her, blinking at the handsome mage seductively. But Varric wasn't done, oh no. "You keep eating those oysters and I guarantee you that you won't fit into those shiny uniforms of yours," he continued, sneering at Aveline and finally he turned to Hawke. "And you! Come sit with me, Hawke. I have a serious problem here!"
Samael set his jaw about being ordered at his own estate in such way, but he was glad Varric had ended that ridiculous row, so he keeled over next to the dwarf with a proper broody expression on his face. He pretended he didn't notice Merrill had been sneaking right behind him and she seated herself by his feet again, polishing her already flawless staff.
"So, what's your serious problem, dwarf?" Samael gave Varric a suspicious grin.
"I've managed to write down the Spring Slaughter finally, but—" Varric started, rubbing his chin.
"The Spring what?" Hawke thought for once more he might have heard wrong.
"The attempt to assassinate you at the Hanged Man," Varric rolled his eyes, impatient and offended like he couldn't fathom how Samael dared not know how his newest volume was named. The hero of this story spluttered out a chain of the worst swearing Varric had ever heard in his life, but the dwarf didn't seem to care. "I've got stuck at the ending though, Samael. I don't know how you killed that Crow. Sieggbard was his name, right?" he made sure he had a correct name of the Antivan hit man.
"Yes. Sven Sieggbard." Varric arched an eyebrow since Samael said it with unexpected sorrow in his voice like he was regretting killing the young Crow. "I'm afraid I have to disappoint you, Varric," Hawke continued after a moment of silence during which everybody went back to their own thoughts or conversations. "I was pretty much wrecked when I got out of the burning inn and Sven beated me down in no time. He would have killed me there no doubt if only he wasn't such a braggart." Samael shook his head after this statement. "But he made a tiny mistake and it cost him the highest price," he almost whispered, lost in that memory.
"Huh…" Varric murmured, discontent and unconcerned about Hawke's sadness. "No glory in this version," he smirked at Hawke, realizing too late he shouldn't have said that.
"No, Varric!" Samael jumped up on his feet, stumbling over his elf. "No glory in killing a person! I'm so, so sorry I've disappointed you!" Samael realized they were all staring at him again after this sudden outburst, and he felt tired, Maker, tired, old and unclean.
"Since when do you care for Fenris anyway?" Samael shot an unexpected question at the blonde mage who remained silent on his seat until now.
"Since… I don't care for him!" Anders raised his hands to disengage himself from the unpleasant topic.
"Right…" Samael grimaced and strolled to the fidgeting mage. His gaze landed back at Merrill who was watching him intently again, oblivious to everything else in the room. Samael found himself ensnared into her eyes and he knew if he couldn't have her right now, he would have probably tried to kill Anders for his intrusion regarding his feelings for Fenris, or said something highly inappropriate to Aveline, insulted Varric for staring at him or scolded Charon for breathing so loudly.
"Everyone… out," he whispered finally, not taking his eyes off Merrill.
"Beg you a pardon, Hawke?" Aveline frowned, daring him to repeat that discourteous order.
"I said get out, all of you," he jabbed his eyes into Aveline, challenging her to defy him. Luckily for him, Varric had an idea what had caused this unexpected twist and he pushed everyone out of the door, simply bowing to Samael before he shut the front door behind him.
"Bodahn!" Samael's voice thundered in the main hall. The dwarf trotted to him from the kitchen, realizing his master had probably one of those episodes.
"How's Fawn?" Hawke turned to the dwarf, trembling in anger and feeling out of control.
"Messere Mahariel wanted a cup of herb tea, but I brought him the whole teakettle along with warm biscuits. I'm afraid he didn't look well, my lord," Bodahn shook his head, lost in thoughts. "I suppose he's asleep right now."
"Good. Go check on him, then go to sleep, Bodahn." Samael said it slowly, watching the dwarf with the fire burning in his eyes. Usually, Bodahn would whine about the delicious dinner which was already prepared for everyone in the dining room, but not tonight, oh no. Bodahn knew very well by now, when he was supposed to talk and when not. He gave a subtle bow to his master, disappearing in the kitchen again.
"You…" Samael turned to the silent Merrill leaning on the armchair. "The bedroom. Now," he ordered her, marching there himself right after the last word and not even glancing behind him if the Dalish girl followed him or not. He simply knew she did.
oOo
Once they were alone in their bedroom, Merrill simply shuffled to the centre of the room, watching Samael pacing around her in circles and glaring at her like it was all her fault he felt this warped and restless. He intended to ask her what the hell was going on with them the whole day, why there were avoiding each other in panic, but he simply wasn't able to speak when he finally halted in front of her.
Their gazes locked, their faces mirroring the same uneasiness, none of them moved or said anything. They tore at each other at the same moment, completely out of control. Merrill's fingers were frantically working on the clever clasps fastening Samael's black leather jerkin, then she stripped the garment roughly off him, tracing his now bare chest with the fingers while returning his kisses vigorously. Samael had much easier job here since Merrill wore just airy home attire, so he simply pulled it over her head, devouring her mouth again as soon as she stood there in all her beauty.
Their tongues dancing together, Merrill fumbled at his belt, moaning in discontent when the buckle resisted getting loose, and cupping her lover's face when it finally thudded on the carpet; the throwing knives scattering all around them. Samael thumbed the first button of his britches open, but he was unbelievably slow for Merrill's intentions as she dropped to her knees in front of him, caressing his body on her way down. Her hands dealt with the remaining buttons on his pantaloons in a second and she peeled them off him once Samael kicked his soft leather boots away. Merrill glanced up at him just once, her eyes filled with feral lust and a need Samael understood better than anyone else.
Merrill took a moment to lick the beautiful cock suspended at her eye level, but Samael pulled her up after a moment, too impatient and far beyond the point of wanting to make slow and tender love. Merrill's arms started snaking around his nape as she leaned on him, offering him her lips again, so he could taste himself. Samael pulled her thigh up around his waist, stroking it on his way back to grasp her hip. Merrill giggled and, jumping up slightly, she wrapped her other leg around his waist as well, clinging to him with that perfection when two parts of something lonely, imperfect and lost get together to merge into one being, seamless, complete and somehow divine.
Samael had no idea for how long they were stumbling through the bedroom, breaking things when they got into their way and competing for dominance over the other one. Once they tumbled down into the spacious bed, wedged hopelessly into each other, Samael knew immediately this was the moment he had been picturing in his head through the whole damned day. Merrill threw the pillows by the bed frame in a quick staccato, pushing her lover to sit there and comfortably leaned on them. Samael had to admit this bossy and tenacious Merrill was even more appealing for him, as he grabbed her and pulled her closer to him, so she was straddling him now. When he entered her again, they both groaned in pleasure, drowning into the other one's eyes in a tight embrace and Merrill started rocking slowly back and forth, occasionally leaning to him for a long and passionate kiss only to tilt her head up to let out a moan of delight.
A blade flashed in front of Samael's face and for a brief moment he was able to see his glowing amber eyes in it. Oh, Samael wished she wouldn't have done that, but apparently there was no way back for either of them. Merrill slowed the pace, watching Samael's reaction about what was about to happen next. The assassin was aware of her hungry widened eyes and a rabid need for his blood that was emanating from her.
"Do it," Samael hissed when he realized Merrill was waiting for him to either stop her or let her satiate her desire. Merrill face twisted into desperate smile, but Samael noticed that almost imperceptible vicious sneer which had run across her face when the knife sliced through the skin on his chest, disappearing just as quickly as it appeared. Samael tilted his head up, managing the pain from a fresh wound, his breathing shallow and quickened.
The Dalish witch jabbed the blood-stained blade into the sheets like it had burnt her and she didn't dare looking at this moment into Samael's face, too afraid what she would see in his eyes. Merrill caught with her tongue the thin rivulet of blood streaming lazily down the assassin's torso and her lips were eagerly licking the way back to the slash on his skin where she attached her lips with a blissful and loud moan.
"Fucking Gods above!" Samael couldn't bear the silence anymore and the fact Merrill's doing had aroused him beyond measure. "This is so, so wrong," he breathed out, but apparently his hands had other opinion since they forced Merrill to start moving again. She happily obliged his demand for release from this intoxicating nightmare, wrapping her thin arms around him in utter acceptance and devotion. If Samael was disgusted or even scared of his own blood dripping off her lips, he didn't show it, since he pulled her into a deep, breathless kiss. He shivered though when he was able to detect that strong metal taste of his blood on her tongue.
The burning of her heated skin against his own was driving Samael mad and Merrill felt deep within her belly an unbearable tension which had been building there for the whole day. She strove towards it, let herself get lost in it, her soft moans turning into screams, and pleas, and eventually wordless shrieks as the climax finally crashed upon her, leaving her helplessly trembling in her lover's arms. Samael was defeated at the same time with the same urgency, letting out a mighty howl which had transformed into ragged panting with his eyelids pressed together like he couldn't bear to look at what he had done a minute ago. What he let her to do, in fact.
When Samael came back to himself, he nestled the limp Merrill gently on the sheets, then swung his feet off the bed and sat there on a bed edge in silence with his head in palms. Maker, what just had happened? If it was so wrong, why it felt so fucking good? Merrill reached for him, hesitant, but before she could touch him, Samael jumped up on his feet, raking all ten fingers through his disheveled black veil of hair.
"Right," he blurted out finally, not looking at her and dressing up, distracted. Before even Merrill had a chance to open her mouth, the assassin headed for the door, hissing, when the rough leather chafed the slash on his chest.
"Samael, wait!" Merrill exclaimed in pure panic, wrapping the sheet around her.
"For what?" he whispered, facing the bedroom door with a hand laid on the brass door knob.
"We need to talk about this," she scrambled out of the bed, but didn't dare approach him.
"No, we don't!" he shot a venomous reply at her, whirling around to face her. Then he realized he was just trying to vent his own confusion and frustration on her and his hand soared to his forehead, brushing it, like it could chase away that disquiet caused by what they had done.
"I have a meeting with the Arishok." Samael's tone sounded hollow and cold now and Merrill wasn't able to decide what was better – his wrath or his pretended disinterest. He dismissed her wish to go with him with a raised hand and Merrill realized his ring was gone, resting still on the night table by the bed where he had set it yesterday night.
"Please, put on the ring at least," she pleaded with him when she took the black annulet and reached an open palm with the ring in his direction. Of course she wanted to have at least this little connection with him, so she would be able to know where he was, if he was all right and even more importantly how he felt.
"Believe me, you don't want to know how I feel right now," Samael marred her endeavour and just like that he was gone.
oOo
Samael kicked everything along his lone way to the docks, crushing curses between his teeth. He finished dressing up properly outside of his estate and grabbed just the katana on his way out. Now he was marching through the sleeping Lowtown with occasional pedestrians who were avoiding him since he looked he would murder anyone crossing his path before asking any questions.
Once he reached the dark corridor with steps leading down to the seashore, an unfamiliar swoosh interrupted his whirling sullen thoughts. It took him an unbelievably long second to realize there was a thick plumed bolt stuck in his stomach. When he gazed up again, yet another bolt whistle through the night and jabbed mercilessly into his chest.
Samael ripped the katana out of its sheath, staggering backwards, since the third bolt pierced his thigh. Samael howled and dropped to his knees, the katana lying on the ground with his hand grasping loosely the hilt.
Just like that. Everything would end here. Because he was so silly to go out alone despite the fact the Coterie leader was after him and not paying attention what was going on around him. The chuckling heads of the hidden thugs started appearing around Hawke, but he saw them just through the blurred veil since the blood was unstoppably oozing out of him. From this reason Samael had no idea something else caught his murderers' attention since someone had started dispatching them one by one. Silent, inexorably swift and imperceptible like a night wind.
Samael collapsed on his side, still desperately clenching the katana, when he attempted to rip the bolt out of his chest with his other hand. He hissed both in surprise and pain when a hooded figure turned him roughly on his back, kneeling above him.
"Who are you?" Samael breathed out, coughing and trying to focus his eyes at his saviour. Or was it just another ghost from his past?
"Shut up and drink it!" the stranger commanded him, pushing a vial with light purple liquid to the assassin's lips.
"You…" Samael groaned in anguish when he recognized the voice. "Get lost, Ichabod. Not in the mood for playing games with you. Ever again," he added, moaning when he groped his wounded belly.
"Drink it if you want to see again that little lovely blood mage of yours!" Ichabod pulled down a hood, sneering down at Hawke. Samael realized he wouldn't be able to drag himself for help and he regretted deeply he hadn't taken at least Charon with him. Now he was all alone here. Alone with that freak. The only thing that could have helped him was the ring, but he hadn't taken it in arrogance and it was the time to pay the price.
Ichabod Bane snorted when Samael ignored him; he grasped him by his long hair, tilting his head up, and poured the liquid in the vial straight down his throat, cackling when the assassin choked on the fluid.
"Good boy," he purred into Hawke's ear, when the assassin gulped down the potion involuntarily and went immediately limp in Ichabod's abrasive arms once he yanked him closer to him.
"Good boy indeed," he continued in his dark cackling, watching Hawke's falling eyelids.
"Drank it all up in two gulps. You deserve a medal or holiday or at least a cuddle from somebody, lad…" Ichabod's derisive voice trailed off when he glanced around to make sure nobody had survived this encounter. Nobody but himself and his son.