A lone beam of sunlight was traveling along Samael's legs tangled in a blanket, continued across his bare stomach and his arms lying relaxed by his sides and when it reached his serene face, Hawke stirred and squinted around with his amber eyes barely unstuck.
Huh, interesting. An unfamiliar small room with tiny window right below the ceiling, an unfamiliar creaking, narrow bed, an unfamiliar itchy blanket and a definitely unfamiliar silhouette sitting in the massive armchair in the corner still drowned in early morning shadows.
"Where… where am I?" Hawke rasped through his chapped lips, stumbling over these three simple words since his mouth felt like a desert. When no answer came, Samael tried to support himself on an elbow, but he hissed in pain instead, his head collapsing back onto the flat pillow. Only now he noticed he was naked beneath the scratchy blanket and there were three weeping bandages on his body. He also saw there was a queer periwinkle-green gunge beneath each bandage and when he tried to sniff the nearest wound on his chest, he flinched back since there was an awful stench clearly coming from the odd slime. The slash across his chest Merrill had made there wasn't bandaged, but there was the same dried green gunge on it.
"I thought it would be interesting to see if you die, Hawke." A well-known deep voice finally chased away the silence and the Arishok stood up gracefully from his observation post, strolling to the bed. He looked ridiculously huge in the cramped room as he loomed over the lying Samael.
"Why haven't you called me a healer?" Samael watched the Arishok in submission, feeling a bit dizzy and the wounds were throbbing.
"Your injuries are treated the best way we know and I ordered the Saarebas to tend to you while you were out." The Arishok shrugged like it was all he could do for Hawke and he looked a bit annoyed because of the lack of gratitude in Hawke's expression.
"What if the wounds were beyond the healing abilities of your Saarebas?" Samael found himself interested in this matter, forgetting about his situation for a moment.
"Then you would die," the Arishok replied, unconcerned. He saw Samael wasn't satiated with this terse answer, so he tried to explain. "The Qunari dies when his time comes. No Saarebas can save him, though the Qunari can survive even the worst injuries if he is supposed to live on."
"I am no Qunari," Samael dared stating the obvious and the Arishok had no answer for that.
"You were writhing in fever for four days, Hawke." The Arishok spoke after a moment of intent staring at the pale human.
"What?" Samael's eyes widened and this time he managed to support his aching body on the elbows, his mind frantically musing about what had happened in those few days he was missing. "How did I end up here anyway?" his elbows betrayed him as he tumbled on his back again.
"Is that another joke you humans like to embarrass yourselves with?" the Qunari leader grunted.
"No!" Samael insisted on his question. He was able to remember the shooting pain when those bolts had pierced his body; how the thugs had disappeared suddenly and then… Ichabod's expressive face bending over him, his empty eyes flashing with odd urgency, forcing him to drink some quack medicine. Hawke rubbed his temples, trying to remember anything else, but he simply wasn't able to.
"Fair enough," the Arishok concluded Hawke really had no idea how he had gotten here. "I simply found you lying on our meeting place," he started sauntering around the room. "There was no blood around you though and you looked like you were just sleeping," the Qunari fell silent like it was all he could tell Hawke about it.
"And?" Samael glared at the Qunari, impatient.
"And nothing. You had three bolts in your body, I've brought you here unconscious, ordered the Saarebas to look after you and obviously you weren't meant to die in here." The Arishok seemed even bored a bit by now, definitely tired with Hawke's questions, yet he continued in his narration. "The bolt in your leg went through the muscle, no big damage. The one in your stomach got stuck in the armor and only scratched you, but the bolt in your chest caused a serious wound."
"Was anybody looking for me here?" Samael breathed out a rather hesitant question, afraid of a negative answer.
"Actually, the Sten told me it looks like the whole Kirkwall is searching for you, Hawke," the Qunari sneered for real this time, like it was amusing as hell to watch humans looking for something they had no chance to find.
"Great…" Samael mumbled, gaping at the cracks in the ceiling. "Wait. Why have you kept me secret here then?" he asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"I don't know nor care who caused these injuries on your body, but I figured the enemy would attempt to finish you off while you were sick. That annoying red-headed Captain of yours tried to sniff around the compound along with her puppets in armor, but I forced her to leave, claiming I haven't seen you." Now these casual words indeed astonished Hawke, since the Arishok might not have seen that, but he actually tried to protect him selflessly.
So… they were searching for me. Huh. I don't know why, but it feels actually good. Merrill had no way to track me down since I left my ring at the estate and she drank up my blood from the vial, so she couldn't use her blood magic to find me either. My Merrill…
The Arishok sank into his armchair again when he saw Hawke was lost deep in his thoughts. He was musing about how he would feel if Merrill happened to disappear for four days, without a trace, just like that. Would he start searching for her? Well, he would. Eventually. But he would be scared, oh yes. Scared and insecure if she had left him by her choice or something bad had happened to her. The whirling thoughts in Samael's head were slowing down and he was asleep again before he knew it.
oOo
"Check," Samael grinned at the silent Qunari, pushing the knight figure nearer to the Arishok's king figure. Two whole days had passed when he wasn't able to get up yet, but today – finally – the Arishok let him out of his little cell and it felt completely natural when they happened to spend a day together, filled with Samael's myriads of questions, but the taciturn Arishok had answered only couple of them. Hawke was also allowed to examine the compound, but the rest of the Qunari were looking at him with open grudge or at least mistrust, although nobody dared question the Arishok about having a human there.
After Samael wolfed down dinner, sitting among the karataam like they were his own people, he was summoned to the Arishok's quarters and was genuinely surprised when he found out the Qunari leader's chambers were quite elegant with massive furniture, huge chandeliers and finely woven and embroidered tapestries on the stone walls.
The Arishok himself was lounging in a wooden throne by the small fireplace, a jug of mead in his rough hands, and there was a low table by his seat with another armchair. Samael glanced around the now darkened room, stepping cautiously forward and sinking obediently into the armchair, when the Arishok ordered him to. They started playing chess, speaking only occasionally, and Samael couldn't remember when he felt this calm and carefree. Of course, he had pangs of conscience, because he remained in the compound incognito, leaving his friends and more importantly Merrill groping in the dark about what had happened to him, but he simply couldn't leave. Not yet. When the game was over they stayed in their seats, watching the crackling fire in silence and sipping the warm mead.
"I called you here to entertain me, Hawke. Not win the chess game, plunder my stock of mead and fall asleep in my armchair," the Arishok shot a morose remark at Samael suddenly, making him burst into genuine laughter. He stopped though, when his chest started to ache again as he pressed his hand on the wound, his smile twisting into grin of pain.
"You're still hurting," the Qunari stated the obvious, when he watched the panting human and his set jaw.
"I guess I was used to get healed by the mages in no time and this constant pain is wearing on me now," Samael shrugged, trying to suppress that humiliating undertone full of pain in his quiet voice. The Arishok simply nodded in reply, not taking his dead eyes off Samael, but Hawke had already gotten used to the Qunari's way of conversation and his eternal staring.
"Care to tell me finally, what is it that keeps you stuck in Kirkwall?" Samael asked the first question that had crossed his mind, since he started feeling uncomfortable under the Arishok's scrutiny. The Qunari scowled about this cheeky question, and when Samael thought there would be no reply, the Arishok spoke after all.
"Tell me, Hawke, what's the name of the sacred Chantry book?" the Qunari replied with a question.
"Ah, you mean the Chant of Light?" Samael had no idea why the Arishok had asked about it, but he was glad he talked at all. "If you're gonna ask what's written there, I have to disappoint you. I simply don't know," he set the empty jug on the table; ruminating over how rude it would be if he asked the Arishok for refill.
"You do not know?" the Qunari raised an eyebrow at Hawke.
"Don't know, don't care," Samael laughed, snatching his jug again and licking the last drops of delicious mead.
"You are allowed not to care about what your religion is about?" the Qunari seemed genuinely intrigued about this thought.
"I am no Andrastian," Samael shook his head in vigour, finally noticing a ewer where might be… more mead.
"But what about your Maker? Don't you pray to him for those ridiculous things your people are dwelling on?" the Arishok sneered, as always when he spoke about humans.
"The Maker…" Samael laughed again, but this time it sounded rather desperate as his face turned into sardonic mask. "The Maker is dead." Samael hissed at the Arishok, stood up abruptly, intending to investigate the ewer, but he swayed since his thigh was still very weak, and collapsed quite ingloriously on the cold stone floor.
"Damn it!" he howled in pain, feeling really like a pitifully squishy human. He expected the Arishok to sneer about his ignominious tumble, but he strolled to him instead, pulled him roughly up on his feeble feet again and pushed the rogue back into the armchair. He then seated himself with dignity back into his own throne, clearly intending to continue in their conversation like nothing had happened.
"As the Chantry has the Chant of Light, the Qunari have a sacrosanct tome, written by the Ashkaari Koslun." Arishok leaned backwards in his seat after this statement, his expression turning into an impenetrable wall. Samael watched him intently, obviously waiting for more. "The Tome of Koslun was stolen under my command and I am denied the Par Vollen until I recover what was lost," the Arishok spoke again, then fell silent for a long time, his distant eyes roaming around the chamber.
"And?" Samael asked finally, impatient to learn more. "Are you searching or something for this sacred scripture of Qunari lore?"
"I will say no more, Hawke," the Arishok retorted, jumping out of the throne in disquiet. They stayed silent for a long time, during which Samael had filled the jugs with mead again and the Arishok watched him with an almost imperceptible smile on the lips when the assassin limped around the dim room, admiring the elaborate tapestries.
"Who did that to you?" the Qunari ripped the silence apart with this terse question, regarding Samael's wrecked state no doubt.
"Where should I start?" Hawke tittered, stroking the aching thigh. "I have an unfinished business with the Coterie leader – I don't know if you know him. He claims I killed his sister," Samael lowered his head when he realized he wasn't able to say her name out loud.
"And did you?" the Arishok asked when Samael didn't seem he would continue.
"I certainly did not!" the amber eyes flashing in outrage pierced the Qunari who stayed still and silent after this outburst.
"You cared for her," he shared his keen observation with Hawke who shot a startled glance at him.
"I… I think I did," Samael whispered just to himself, like he was afraid to say it out loud. Then he coughed, forcing himself to get a hold of his feelings again and sound steady when he spoke again. "I will leave tomorrow night," he searched the Arishok's face to capture his reaction about him leaving the compound so soon.
"Yes." If Samael anticipated any other reply, he didn't show it, since the Arishok had obviously no other answer than this simple acknowledgment of Hawke's intentions to go back to his life tomorrow.
"Am I allowed to spend one last day here?" Samael asked quietly, hesitant, like he was afraid the Arishok would turn down his obvious desire to stick here for yet another day.
The Arishok seemed just for a second genuinely astonished by this simple and polite plea, coming from usually sardonic and insufferable human. He took his time with the reply, however, since he took a few deep gulps of mead first.
"You are allowed to stay here for one more day, Hawke," he answered the question finally, slowly standing up. He did notice a mild grin on Samael's face regarding the permission to have yet another calm day in the compound. Samael realized the Arishok wanted him to leave now, so he scrambled out of his cozy armchair and headed for the door. His hand froze on the massive door latch though, like something kept nagging him.
"Why?" he turned to the Arishok, who had already started unlacing his attire, clearly intending to turn in. Hawke realized after a moment he would have to give the Arishok more than this one word if he wanted an answer. "Why have you saved me?" Samael leaned on the closed door.
"Don't question my decisions, Hawke," the Qunari grumbled, but Samael was able to see the Arishok himself had no idea why.
"Be grateful," the Arishok ended the conversation, visibly uncomfortable about this prodding question. Samael gave him a deep graceful bow, since he realized he hadn't thanked yet the Qunari for saving him and allowing him to stay in his compound. When he straightened up again, he noticed the Qunari had on his face something very similar to a pleased expression.
"Good night," Hawke walked through the door and shut it close behind him, not waiting for an answer, since he was afraid it wouldn't come anyway.
oOo
"I'm sorry about your karataam," Samael whispered and wriggled with uneasiness when no reply came from the Arishok. They both stood by the compound entrance around midnight, trying to catch each other's gaze, but they couldn't since the stars and the moon were hidden under the pall of the low heavy clouds.
"There's a storm coming, Hawke," the Qunari glanced up the sky, then set his eyes back at Samael's shadowed face. Somehow Hawke knew the Arishok wasn't speaking just about the weather.
"And I'll be caught just in the middle of it," Samael remarked in the same ambiguous way, clasping the katana hilt like it was supposed to protect him from whatever Raen, Xenon, Ichabod and many others had hidden up their sleeves for Hawke.
"Don't you want to give me your sword of Seheron now, Hawke?" the Arishok stepped closer to Samael, touching briefly the katana scabbard.
"I certainly do not!" Samael scowled at the Qunari's silhouette, taking a step backwards from the giant. "Unless…" Samael realized he was being ungrateful again. "Unless you would want it as a token of my gratitude for saving my life," he added with an unexpected submission, half-saying farewell to his precious weapon.
"Keep it," the Qunari replied after a moment, as though he was satisfied simply with Hawke's willingness to yield and give him the splendid katana after all.
"I don't know if I can win this fight, Arishok," Samael sighed and glanced back into the dim Qunari compound with longing, like he wasn't ready to face the reality yet and go back to his life. "It's just… so hard. I have no idea who is still my friend and who isn't. The Viscount owns my ass, the foolish Chantry is obviously behind the deaths of your brethren, Meredith has started realizing I live with an apostate, Aveline barely holds in check many investigations regarding my business, and I'm so fucking tired of everything." Samael realized he was just whining now, but everybody expected him to be always the strong and adamant one. Nobody cared where Samael would find a shoulder to cry on or a support when he needed it.
The Arishok was quiet after Hawke's words and the assassin was wondering why he hadn't returned to his compound yet and continued in their conversation.
"The war isn't about if you think you can win, Hawke. It's about being willing to die for something you believe is worth dying for." The Arishok finally entered the silence.
"Nice speech," Samael sneered, but realized the Qunari's words were thoughtful and wise; however he mocked them a bit now. "A noble-deeds-doing good man I am not. I like my skin…" Samael's voice trailed off since he recalled his resigned waiting for the golem to crush him to death a week ago or his indifference about being marked by the Coterie sign of death. Was he really keen on living right now?
"Panahedan, Hawke." Samael looked up at the Arishok after those farewell words, feeling that ridiculous anxiety about leaving the compound rising inside of him.
"May I come back?" the assassin blurted out without thinking.
"No," the Arishok replied immediately like he had been thinking about this matter for a long time. Hawke, who had lowered the head with puckered lips after being rejected, couldn't see that brief smile running across the Qunari's face, when the Arishok realized how fond Samael had grown of this compound during that one week.
Only the quiet creaking of the gate leading to the Qunari compound let Hawke know he was now all alone.
oOo
Samael stared at his estate, the windows glowing into the night, and he kept guessing what was going on inside, rather than seeing for himself. How he was supposed to go in there just like that, after a week of being missing? What should he say? How should he behave? How could he possibly explain that after he had gotten better after the attack, he didn't come home immediately, or at least send a bloody message about him being alive still?
Those were the main reasons why he was standing in the rain now, unable to enter his own mansion. He just pictured himself walking through the front door in nonchalance, asking about the dinner like nothing had happened and this vivid image made him laugh and swear at the same time. When Samael realized he was drenched to his bones and trembling in the yowling wind, he started finally walking to the entrance, only to pass by it like a coward, when he suddenly decided the entrance in the basement would be more suitable for his intentions. Oh yes, Samael indeed wanted to eavesdrop for a while, because he would love to know if the mice had a party when the cat wasn't around.
oOo
"—but he hasn't seen him either, Aveline. It was my only contact to the Coterie." Anders was whirling his glass of red wine, sitting on a sofa next to the tipsy Isabela; the brooding Fenris was lounging next to her, not compliant for her games tonight.
"Is it possible he lied to you?" Aveline was clearly marching through the hall since Samael heard her strident voice from different places.
"I don't think so," Anders replied. "Two weeks ago he brought his dying wife to my clinic, the poor thing was raped and stabbed, and I healed her. Well, at least her body. He wouldn't lie to me. Now we have confirmed at least Raen doesn't have Hawke stashed somewhere, clapped in the irons or worse." Anders tried really hard to sound cheerfully, but he failed big time.
"Varric?" Aveline turned to the dwarf who was sitting hunched in the armchair by the fireplace, staring into the Hawke's empty seat.
"I'm afraid nothing, Aveline." Varric shook his head, waking up from his lethargy. "I've already used all my connections, spies, urchins, whatever, and nothing. It's like he just vanished." Varric murmured and fell silent again.
"My first guess was that he… hiccup… he's whoring for the whole week at the Blooming Rose, but then I realized… hiccup… that I live there now, so I would have to… stumble over him there, right? " Isabela's eyes drowned in alcohol started wandering around the room, trying to focus at the faces around her. Fenris just snorted and poured her yet another drink to shut her ramble up. Samael stirred in his hiding place and the irony of this situation crushed him. Yes. Hawke was really hiding in his own mansion, listening to his friends' plans how to find him, and so far he wasn't able to enter the main hall and let them know he was all right. Physically all right at least. The fact he hadn't heard Merrill speaking was scaring the hell out of him and Samael was genuinely surprised, when he recognized Sebastian's velvet voice interrupting the silence.
"Did it occur to you he might be in Fereldan?" he asked the audience, hesitant, but with a bitter undertone, like he was angry at Hawke, that he kept them all searching for him. "What if he simply woke up and decided to leave Kirkwall? It wouldn't be for the first time and—" Sebastian's ardent speech was cut, when someone tried to fry him with two bright electric arcs, only to slam him into the wall a second later.
"Ho, ho, ho, Daisy!" Varric appeared in a second right next to the fuming Merrill, prying the blood magic knife out of her shaking hand. "Don't get me wrong, I find this whiny Chantry puppy as boring as you do, but I dare say Starkhaven would rather have some heir, than none." The dwarf grinned at the elven girl, snaking an arm around her waist and pushing her gently away of the shocked prince.
"Stop fidgeting, Bela!" the blonde mage lost the patience while healing her slashed arm.
"Ah, what about we go into the bedroom and do some fidgeting together?" Isabela leaned to the handsome mage, allowing him to admire her impressive bosom.
"Ehm, I… well… that's some huge… I mean… stop squirming, damn it!" Anders blushed and forced himself to focus on the injury.
"What happened anyway?" Varric seated Merrill who was still glaring at Vael in the Samael's armchair, collapsing back into his seat again.
"The Morrell's men were waiting… hiccup… for us in my room at the brothel! Can you believe that? I just came—" the pirate queen burst out guffawing. "Do you get it? I went to the brothel, then I came," she fell off the sofa, roaring in laughter about her own joke.
"Hilarious, pirate," Fenris grumbled, rolling his eyes.
"Waiting for us?" Varric narrowed the eyes, watching the minx wallowing on the fur.
"She's banging that freaking elf. Don't pretend you didn't know about it!" Fenris spluttered out, reaching over the empty spot on the sofa for the wine bottle Anders was wielding.
"Ah, Fawn and his huge—" Isabela crawled to Fenris and nestled her head on his knee, smirking up at him, "—sword!" Isabela hooted in laughter again and Anders with Fenris exchanged a fed up glance about her drunken joy. Once she mentioned the Hero of Fereldan, Samael wondered for a second where Fawn was. Then he sighed, realizing he should finally go out off his hideout, but he simply couldn't. He ended up pounding softly on the wall with his head, then he collapsed down on the floor, convincing himself, he would go talk to them in the next minute. All right, maybe in a half an hour. A silhouette creeping to him through the shadows in the room he was hiding in halted just above him, motionless, simply staring at him. Samael pulled himself up, vigilant, not taking the eyes of the stranger, but he was too sleepy, too aching to respond at the stranger's sudden movement, since he whirled Hawke around and pressed him onto the wall. All this without a sound.
"Please don't tell me you've been hiding in this alcove for the whole week," Fawn snaked the arm playfully around Hawke, standing behind him and whispering those words right into Samael's ear.
"How's she?" Samael breathed out a question about the only thing that mattered to him now.
"Rummaging through Kirkwall, threatening everyone who resists talking to her about you, not eating, avoiding me and my proposals to have wild, wild sex…" Fawn tightened his grasp at Hawke when he realized Samael was trying to wriggle out of the elf's embrace to face him. "Oh, let me finish, Hawke," he sneered, tracing the assassin's still weakened body with the other hand. "Two days after your disappearance she tracked down two humans who saw you going through Lowtown the night you've vanished. I think it's appropriate to remark she caused them life-threatening wounds when she was done with them. And do you want to know what she did yesterday?" Fawn shook roughly the limp rogue, who was suffering in silence now. "She killed somebody, Hawke. She killed a being in a blind rage, because he had nothing useful to tell her about you. That silly young human worm was guilty in her eyes since he saw you leaving the estate, but couldn't tell her which way you took."
With an unexpected move Samael broke Fawn's hold, unable to bear his venomous words anymore, and whirled around to face him, panting and staring at him in horror. Fawn slowly shook his head, watching the assassin. "I could never treat her the way you do, Samael." With these words Fawn slowly walked away right into the main hall.
"Going out for a walk," Fawn glanced at Bodahn, channeling this bored remark strictly to him and ignoring the rest of them. Samael thought, of course, he was about to tell them about him, but Fawn just didn't seem to care. Not at all.
Samael raised his trembling hands in front of his face, observing them until they stopped shaking, then he came out of his hiding place and stepped forward. He halted in the door frame with his arms folded on chest, leaning on it in nonchalance, as his eyes quickly glanced around the dim, now silent hall.
Isabela was the first to notice him, but she considered him just a booze hallucination no doubt, since she poked Fenris' leg, demanding his attention. The elf just hissed some juicy Tevinter curse, shooing her away, so she punched the leg instead.
"What!" Fenris snapped at her, his lyrium tattoos flashing briefly.
"Tell me, sweet ass, do you see anybody standing over there?" Isabela squinted at Hawke again, rubbing her eyes. Fenris sighed and turned in the pointed direction and his eyes widened, since Samael just stood there with an awkward smile on his face, like nothing had happened at all.
"Hawke…?" Fenris rasped in disbelief after a moment and all heads in the hall swiveled towards Samael. Hawke was convinced things couldn't possibly get any worse than that, but Fenris finished him off since he bolted out of the mansion, glowing like a bloody beacon, while Merrill watched him with shock and the tears standing in her eyes, only to jump off her seat a second later, slap Samael with all her might and headed for the bedroom, sobbing. Samael remained sitting on the clean cold floor, where he had tumbled down; groping his jaw thoughtfully, when he noticed Aveline was rushing to him.
"Please don't hit me!" Samael raised his arms in defense, feeling still weak and now a bit dizzy after Merrill's merciless punch, not that he didn't deserve that. The Captain pulled him up on his feet into a tight hug, murmuring "Thank the Maker" into his ear.
"Uhm, woman, you seem glad to see me…" Samael sneered at her when she let go of him.
"What are you waiting for?" Aveline found her repose, properly scolding him again. "Go after her! You have no idea what she's been through this week." Hawke nodded, his eyes drawn upstairs, but he headed for the front door instead. He didn't care they all were yelling at him that he took the wrong direction. The only thing he had in his mind was Fenris.
He hesitated once he was outside though, then he started running towards the Fenris' mansion, clenching the pulsing wound on his chest. The pierced thigh was protesting against this headlong dash, but he knew he had to do something and he had to do it right now.
"Fenris!" he panted in despair when he had glimpsed the lyrium smudge disappearing around the corner. He continued in running, more like limping now, and what was his surprise when he bumped right into the lyrium warrior a second later.
"Anything you'd like to tell me, you traitor?" Fenris hissed at him, steadying him, but Samael wished he wouldn't have done that, since Fenris simply jabbed mercilessly his sharp gloves into his skin.
"Traitor, is it? And what about you, elf?" Samael countered with a venomous shouting. "Who ceased reading my damned messages or answering the damned door when I knock on it? And the answer is - Messere Let's-Piss-on-the-Chantry-door!" Samael grimaced at him, wriggling wildly out of his grasp. Everything futile, since Fenris held him with his vice-like hands in check.
"Don't you dare asking some explanation from me, you hypocrite! You were the one who had walked away from me!" Clearly Fenris was out of control, since normally he wouldn't let something that honest out of his mouth. "You were the one who had come to me just when you needed something including a quick fuck when you felt like it!" Fenris shook Samael violently, like only this way he could see the elf's pain. "And you were the one who took into his head to disappear for a week, probably watching us in laughter how we were searching for you!"
"I didn't walk away from you, you're being ridiculous, Fenris! Yeah, I might have come to your mansion less frequently and it was just because, let me think, that I was swamped with work and hunted by the Coterie, that's it!" Samael managed to break the hold finally, but Fenris wasn't done with him by a long shot. He intended to slap the silly assassin, but somehow his hand refused to do that, so his desperate attempt to hurt Hawke ended up with Fenris' arm wheezing through the air and the glove tips slashing through the assassin's chest. Samael howled and judging by that shooting pain, Fenris just managed to reopen his wound caused by the bolt, which was confirmed when Samael felt the tiny streams of hot blood on his cold skin. The body refused to bear such pain anymore and betrayed him, so Hawke tumbled down, clenching the teeth and wishing he to be dead rather than to be this humiliated.
Fenris stopped his rampage at once, watching the panting assassin and the wound he had caused with widened eyes and slightly open mouth. He glanced at the Hawke's blood dripping of his glove like he had no idea how it got stuck there.
"Hawke…" Fenris took a hesitant step towards the assassin.
"Leave me alone, Fenris!" Samael shot a glare at him, daring him to touch him.
"Samael, I didn't mean to—" he reached for Hawke, but Samael stroke the hand away, scratching his forearm on the glove.
"Shut the fuck up, Fenris, and at least admit it felt fucking good. Now do us both a favor and scram!" Samael jabbed his fiery eyes into the speechless elf. He slowly crawled up the wall and started stumbling away from the elf, leaving a blood trail on the wall he was leaning on.
Samael's wish to creep into a hole and die there was marred though, when Fenris grabbed him and pinned him against the wall, ignoring the desperate gasp of pain which lingered on the assassin's lips.
"Fenris, what do you think you're d—" Samael's tired voice died away once the elf yanked his one arm above his head, demanding silence and obedience with an annihilating gaze. Fenris' other gloved palm started climbing up the assassin's body, making sure it chafed the chest wound briefly before it was clasped around Hawke's throat. Samael tried once more breaking the lyrium cage he was held in, but Fenris' warm lips on his own persuaded him ridiculously swiftly to stop fighting. There was no shyness or hesitation in the elf's behavior; not at all. No request for permission. He simply took the kiss from Samael, without futile questions, hungrily and violently, like there would be no tomorrow.
Fenris' hand which was squeezing Hawke's wrist above his head became loose and Samael used this moment to throw the elf's gauntlet away, let his hand slide lower a bit, so their palms were lazily touching each other, before they decided to clench one another into a tight fist, glowing in a blue dazzling lyrium light.
Fenris was the one who wrenched his mouth away from Samael's with a frustrated groan, brushing his forehead, and only now he realized Hawke was shivering with far more than the pain. Fenris staggered three steps away from the Hawke leaning on the wall, watching him in pure spurn like this was all Samael's fault.
"I curse the day we've met, Samael…" Fenris whispered with his head hanging, then he slowly turned around and stomped away.
"I don't…" Hawke shook his head mildly and glanced around if there was no hole indeed he could hide in, cry in or die in. All he spotted was just Fenris' abandoned glove. He let himself collapse down slowly along the wall, reaching for the glove and lapsing into the oblivion.