"Not you again!" Samael groaned when he woke up finally and the first thing he saw was Ichabod's face.
"The grim reaper has been sniffing around you, Hawke, but I shooed him away, don't worry," Ichabod whispered and leaned so close Samael could smell an odd combination of herbs and liquor. He thought he must have fallen asleep right after the argument with Fenris, but now he was thinking about the encounter in Lowtown – when he got shot and was saved by this creep.
"Ichabod… you… saved me." Hawke squeezed gently Bane's forearm, demanding an explanation, confirmation, anything regarding that event.
"I did not!" Ichabod snorted, fidgeting.
"Yes, you did!" Samael tightened his grasp on the other's arm.
"I certainly did not!" Ichabod wriggled out of Hawke's grip, making a few cautious steps backwards. "And I wasn't strolling through Lowtown near the steps to the docks eight nights ago either," he peeped, letting Hawke know what he had done precisely the night Samael was ambushed and injured. Hawke watched his savior, recalling the overwhelming abilities of the man, shadow, avenger, who had rescued him that night.
"Thank you," Samael had no other answer for Ichabod's denial.
"You're welcome. What exactly are you thankful for?" Ichabod squawked and started tittering just to himself.
"For saving my life, damn it!" Samael was getting furious.
"I didn't do it." Ichabod insisted. "But those were some serious wounds you had on your body. All that blood, your blood…" his thoughtful voice sounded hollow and once again Ichabod Bane looked very sane suddenly.
"Why not let me simply thank you and get over it?" Samael yelled now.
"By the Stone, Ichabod, leave him be," Varric peered at them from the other room, smirking broadly at Hawke, when he saw Samael had really woken up finally. Hawke tried to move cautiously his limbs and he grinned when he felt nothing but muscles impatient to get off the bed and his stomach rumbled like it would devour a whole griffon if possible.
"Fawn and Ichabod brought you here, Hawke," the dwarf stalked to the bed, frowning a bit now. "Apparently they found you sleeping on the street and I just used the word 'sleeping' since I didn't want to say you were wallowing there passed out, you idiot!" Varric punched Hawke's shoulder. "Anders will no doubt chide you properly, because he said your body was utterly exhausted." Varric's voice lowered suddenly after these words, like he was hesitant about what he intended to say next. "You… need to look after yourself better, Samael," Varric scratched his chest hair, staring at his boots.
"Varric?" Samael reached for the dwarf, his quite question lingering in the air. Hawke raised both eyebrows when the dwarf sobbed, wiped his face with the sleeve and turned to him with a strained smile on his broad face.
"Remember that Hein boy? You've spared his life in Lowtown when we encountered that Chantry sister with cold eyes." Varric coughed and popped out the question. Anything but the uncomfortable silence.
"Yes, I remember him," Samael replied. "Please don't tell me he's going after me as well from some unknown ridiculous reason," he sighed and pulled on the boots.
"Actually he's currently skittering around Kirkwall, shouting the story of you sparing his life in all four directions. He's depicting you as something between a plebeian hero and a pagan god of mercy and love," Varric laughed and flung Hawke's jerkin at him.
"Huh, look at that…" Samael droned, his head trapped in the linen under tunic. "Samael Hawke, secret philanthropist and life savior. That's new I guess." Samael fastened the jerkin on his torso and groped his empty belt, when he realized he had no weapon yet. "Where is Merrill?" he shot a quick question at Varric and stopped searching for his katana.
"Ah, she was here for several hours, then an important matter forced her to return to your estate," Varric shrugged, but he was able to see and understand Hawke's mute question. "Yes, she's still mad at you, you rascal, but I'm sure she'll come around once you apologize." Varric laughed after his words, shaking his head, then started pushing Ichabod out of the room, since Hawke was clearly itching to get home.
Once Samael joined them at the front room, the assassin bowed to the peculiar landlord since Ichabod allowed him to be here without demanding payment, however strange his behavior was. When Hawke straightened up again, Varric opened the door in the meantime, and the two of them were ready to leave, but Samael's sleeve was caught suddenly by Ichabod as he yanked the rogue nearer.
"Stay away from the elf," Ichabod whispered with his empty eyes wide open, nodding while saying the warning.
"Hum… What elf?" Samael's eyes narrowed as he started contemplating which elf was on Ichabod's mind. The only elves near to him were Merrill, Fawn and Fenris after all.
"The one with the boobs," Ichabod sneered, pushed the assassin gaping at him in disbelief out of his house, and slammed the door close.
oOo
"A message for you, Messere!" The lad plucked shyly Hawke's sleeve, slipping the small vellum into Samael's hand. It looked like it was ripped off in haste and as much as Samael was eager to get home; he stopped and read the message on the spot.
"Hawke, what is it?" Varric asked, alarmed, when Samael's face turned into a bloodless mask.
"I need to get home. Now!" Hawke crumpled the message from Aveline, tossed it at the dwarf and started running. "There's a fire—"
"Oh, shit, Hawke, don't tell me your estate has burnt to the ground too…" Varric grunted, scooting right behind the assassin. "Where's the fire?" he poked Hawke impatiently when no answer came.
"Right beneath my ass!" Samael yelled back at him, sprinting through the morning Lowtown.
oOo
Samael kicked the front door open and one glance around the main hall was sufficient for learning the situation. Bodahn was cowering with Sandal in the corner, covering the young dwarf's eyes. Isabela along with Fawn and Charon were crouching above the big box which was positioned right in the middle of the chamber and Merrill was shedding tears on the sofa, curled up there into a hopeless bundle.
Samael marched to the pirate queen and the arcane warrior, but his eyes were locked at the box. The box full of the heads of all of the urchins he had ever used to deliver his messages or who had ever helped him in any possible way. Judging by their petrified expressions, bulging eyes, and slashed skin, their last moments before the death were full of suffering and pain.
"They're… c-coming for m-me!" Merrill stumbled over to her assassin, squealing and choking on her own words. Samael didn't think twice before he pulled her into a brief, but passionate kiss, wiping the tears off her face roughly.
"Nobody is going to take you away from me…" Hawke growled, his mind frantically searching for a way out of this. Varric in the meantime read the message as well and now his and Samael's eyes clashed in a brief storm of thoughts.
"Hawke, the Guards and the Templars are probably in the estate already…" Varric breathed out, and it seemed the dwarf was at the edge of his control.
"Bodahn!" Samael's voice slashed the air as he marched to the old dwarf.
"Yes, M-Messere?" Bodahn stood up valiantly although he was quivering without control.
"Take the box, burn it all in my laboratory in the huge stove. There's always fire. Take Sandal to help you carry the box!" Samael ordered, raking through his hair in despair. "Bela!" he turned to the fellow rogue, his eyes pleading with her to cooperate without needless words.
"My bedroom, the dresser in there, the bottom drawer. Burn all the parchments you find there in the fireplace." Samael gestured upstairs wildly. "Go, damn it!" he shouted, when the freaked out Isabela didn't move immediately.
"What about me?" Varric threw his arms up, fretting and pacing around, stumbling over Charon.
"Light up a cigar, sit in the armchair and try to hold them here for as long as possible," Samael hissed at him, glancing at the front door again, since the Guards had started breaking in.
"Merrill, Fawn, come with me," Samael turned to them, whispering since a triple pound on the front door reminded them they were all about to be arrested for having the body parts of missing boys in the house and if that wasn't good enough, Meredith would have Hawke's head anyway for harboring a blood mage and yet another apostate.
Samael grabbed Merrill and slipped along with Fawn into his mother's former quarters, heading without hesitation to the huge wardrobe. He yanked the heavy wardrobe wings open and his hair waved since there was a chilly draft coming from the concealed escape route.
"Look after her!" Samael pierced Fawn with his eyes before he pushed him into the hiding place. Merrill was simply gulping the tears, nodding, when Samael told her to be quiet in there and wait for him. Once he placed the back panel into the wardrobe again and closed the wings inaudibly, he realized he was now panting and his heart racing.
Apparently no rest for the wicked since the noise in the main hall let him know his estate was swarming with the Templars and Guards right now, so Hawke dusted off his armor, took a deep breath and crept out of the room. He spotted Isabela crouching behind the balustrade and her smirk let him know she had indeed burnt the documents which were incriminating to Hawke and his business partners. The two of them bowed to each other and straightened up slowly, so they could be seen by the intruders.
"What a pleasant surprise…" Samael started slowly descending the staircase, the venom dripping off his words.
"Based on anonymous tips we're looking here for the missing young men, and you also face the accusation of harboring two apostates." Aveline stomped to Hawke, her voice indifferent and her expression impenetrable.
"Where are they?" she sizzled into Samael's ear when she made sure her men or the Templars wouldn't hear her. Hawke was about to breath out a proper reply, when a Templar approached them, clearly not intending letting Hawke out of his sight. Samael saw he needed to improvise and his only hope was that Aveline would understand his encrypted answer for her question.
"But this is a scandal!" Hawke threw his arms in the air, making sure his voice would sound exquisitely high-pitched and snobbish. "I'll have your heads by tomorrow morning, you morons! Your mothers will have to scrape what would be left of you, put it in a box and store it in the basement, you disgusting toads!" Samael glanced at Aveline, hoping she had understood the hints about where her men shouldn't be looking for the urchins right now. Encouraged by her almost imperceptible wink, Samael continued in his outburst.
"There are no mages, no slaves, no elves, no nothing here!" Samael underlined the important word with punching the nearest Guardsman. "Now get out of my property, before I stuff you all into the nearest wardrobe and not even the Grand Cleric with the Maker at her side will sort you out once I'm done with you! Damn you all! What would my mother say to this preposterous ambush?" Samael accompanied his dramatic effusion with a brief glance upstairs, leaving a perfect clue for Aveline for where he had stashed the elves.
Satisfied with the outcome, Samael strolled to the dwarf who was lounging in the armchair and smoking hedonistically there and he keeled over next to him, hiding his head in palms like he was utterly distraught over the Templars and Guards crawling throughout his estate. He smiled though when he spotted Bodahn grinning at him, patting his son's shoulder indicating that their task was finished.
After a half an hour the Guards Captain and high-ranked Templar apologized for the intrusion, called off their dogs and left the mansion. Varric went immediately to the nearest cabinet and gulped down half of the Antivan whiskey he found there, his forehead sweaty and the hands trembling.
Samael dashed back to the wardrobe, almost broke the wings when he opened it and tossed away the panel hiding the hidden passage. Fawn was crouching right behind it with Merrill hidden in his arms, both elves intertwined and shivering. For the first few seconds Hawke had no clue what should he say or do, since Merrill didn't move and there was pure fear mirroring in the proud elven warrior's face. Samael reached for Merrill, whispering soothing sounds into her ear, but he was grateful when Isabela took her from him, nodding at him like she would take care of the girl.
"Fawn…?" Samael whispered into the tunnel when the other elf stayed still and stolid. "Fawn, they are all gone." Samael reached his arm towards the elf, but he just glanced at it and did nothing. When Hawke turned away to leave Mahariel alone, his smooth voice stopped him.
"It never ends, is it..." Fawn granted the assassin a long gaze, full of distant sorrow regarding the life time of being hunted for what he was.
"They were pushed by Morrell, Fawn. I doubt Meredith ordered this raid and thanks to Aveline, we were warned just in time," Samael shrugged and his face darkened when he realized what had Morrell done – an attack at Isabela and Fawn at the Blooming Rose, murders of the innocent young urchins which Raen intended to pin at Hawke, attempt to take Merrill away from him and lock her in the Gallows… But did Raen send those thugs after Samael the night he had a meeting with the Arishok? They did try to kill him no doubt, and Morrell clearly intended to finish Hawke off himself, so this didn't look like a Coterie job. So who was behind it? And when Ichabod saved his life there, why he just dragged him near the Qunari compound and not home? Huh, again, many questions without proper answers.
Fawn accepted the offered hand this time to help him with crawling out of the tunnel and once they both stood alone in the spacious chamber, there was an awkward silence between them. Hawke watched the elf as he sauntered to the nearest table and started fingering small pretty things on it. When he lifted up the old wooden music box painted with fading colors, Samael slowly stalked to him, taking the box from the elf and opening it slowly. The old mechanism inside of the box stirred and the sweet melancholic lullaby filled the room. Samael stared in rapture at the box, forgetting for a moment he wasn't alone, then he closed the music box again, tracing the top of it with his finger.
"Who is Leandra Amell?" Fawn asked a simple question about the name he spotted carved inside of the box. Hawke twitched since it was unwritten rule inside of his estate not to say out loud the names of Samael's family from the obvious reason – they were all dead.
"She was… my mother." Samael looked up at the elf, then his gaze went back to the music box as he carefully set it back on the table in a reverent silence. Oddly enough Fawn had no heart to ask where Samael's mother was since the answer was written across the assassin's expressive face. Hawke coughed in uneasiness after a moment, glancing at the elf who was obviously still shaken to his very marrow. "Drink perhaps?" Hawke asked while looking out of the window.
"Hit me," Fawn nodded in agreement and headed for the door without looking at Samael.
oOo
Samael stood in front of the huge canvas picturing the Grand Cathedral in the Val Royeaux, painted by the far-famed Orlesian artist. He cocked his head while admiring the radiant colors and the grandeur of this edifice, although he would rather buy all daggers and swords in Kirkwall than this one ridiculously overpriced painting. He was genuinely caught off guard when the Viscount approached him from behind, intending to explain no doubt why he had summoned Hawke to the Keep.
"I see you are not such brute and infamous mercenary like everybody keeps telling me," the Viscount remarked, glancing at the Cathedral as well.
"Ah, I have something like this hanging all around my estate," Samael sneered in return, blinking at Merrill. "But usually with men fishing," he added and laughed shortly. The Viscount resisted rolling his eyes and gestured towards the armchairs by the table. Once seated, Dumar stapled his fingers, observing the silent Hawke with penetrating gaze.
"I heard the whispers you've been missing, Serah Hawke. There were Chantry sisters clucking about it, the Guards, the nobles, the Templars, everybody talking over and over how you've disappeared." Dumar fell silent like he expected some explanation and when none came, he scowled. "All right, keep it to yourself, but I need to ask that the ridiculous endless feud between the Morrells and you come to an end." Dumar pierced Hawke through with his bright eyes, watching him and expecting some more or less precipitous reaction.
"In fact I intend to confront him tonight, Dumar. Don't you worry…" Samael's gaze started roaming around the room, and there was an ugly grin on his lips as he reminisced about the dead lads again.
"Just be gentlemen and take your pitiful squabble someplace remote and without witnesses," the Viscount sighed when he reorganized the pile of papers in front of him. Samael bit his tongue to keep the witty remark just for himself regarding this matter. "Any news with the Qunari?" Dumar rubbed his temples, closing the tired eyes for a second.
"I was able to learn what keeps them here." Samael was suddenly very quiet since this one sentence felt like betraying the Arishok.
"And?" Dumar's eyes widened and he punched the table when Hawke looked like he wouldn't continue.
"The Arishok is searching for the sacred book of his people which was stolen from them," he managed to pop out finally, but he wasn't able to look straight into the blue eyes in front of him. "I know nothing else," Samael grunted before the Viscount had a chance to reply.
"It's pure madness!" the Viscount exclaimed finally, jumping up off his chair and starting pacing around his office. "Meredith from left, Orsino from right, Elthina has slithered into her precious holy hole with a clear intention to never crawl out, the Chantry zealots are prowling the city as they please and I have no idea with what they will come up next to stir up even more hatred against the heathen, horn-headed outlanders, which by the way I can't afford to get upset, because they would probably attempt to convert us all to their precious Qun!"
Samael frowned from the unknown reasons after the Viscount's insults for the Qunari, and his hand slipped down and clasped loosely the katana hilt. Luckily for him, Dumar didn't seem to notice since he was lost deep in his whining.
"The stepping-down seems just more and more appealing…" Dumar grumbled just to himself while Samael was watching his outburst in a cold demeanor. They both glanced at the door when an unfamiliar noise from the main hall reached them. The Viscount got few sympathies from Hawke since Dumar crept to his cabinet and pulled out a shiny sword which hadn't been obviously tainted by the blood or a battle yet.
"HAAAAWKE!" a single word echoed under the mosaic dome of the Viscount's Keep.
Samael slowly stood up, his eyes hypnotizing the closed door leading to the main hall.
"Raen…" Samael breathed out, closing the eyes, like he had been expecting this hour with both stifling anxiety and liberating relief.
"Hawke! Show yourself!" the voice cried out once more and this time Samael caught that half-mad undertone in that desperate voice calling for him, calling for vengeance which couldn't raise Haydée from her grave anyway.
Followed by the Viscount who was gaping at Hawke in awe, Samael opened the door and started descending the staircase, his face dim, his pace steady and his mind oddly in peace of the quickly approaching end. He hadn't realized that Merrill, Varric and Fawn were right behind him until Merrill's petite hand stroked his back in a brief tender gesture like he hadn't been alone in this and neither he was alone now.
"Samael Hawke…" Raen rasped once he spotted the assassin strolling without hesitation towards him. Samael searched Morrell's haggard face, realizing how the gangly man had grown thinner since he saw him the last time. A brief glance around the vast entrance hall told Samael that the most of the Guards were held hostage by Morrell's men; the nobles and others had created a loose circle around them and his companions stood right by his side, silent, cold and prepared to fight.
"I promised I would come for you, Hawke." Raen spoke finally, then paused like everything had been said with this one sentence. Samael managed to knock Morrell off the balance when he responded with a deep graceful bow like he indeed intended to honour the promise and… rip Raen's heart out, since apparently there was no peaceful way to settle this.
"He who seeks vengeance should dig up two graves, Raen." Samael approached the pale rival, orbiting around him, his voice casual, like nothing bad had happened between them. With an imperceptible move Samael leaned to Raen's ear, whispering "I did not kill Haydée, Raen." Morrell's answer was clear since he drew the long sword, stalked a few steps away from Hawke and halted right behind Merrill. He drew aside dark hair on her slender neck, inhaling deeply of her scent, challenging Hawke to interfere and give him the reason to take her from him just like he was convinced that Hawke had taken Haydée from Raen. Samael remained oddly calm, but not without difficulty since Merrill's eyes had twice their size and she started visibly shaking.
"Just you and me, Raen." Samael slowly approached them, his palms turned to Morrell in submission. "That's how you want it, right? That's how you've been picturing it the whole time since your Haydée... dropped... dead." Oh yes, Samael knew very well how to manipulate with people just with the words and Raen had just confirmed it when his face turned red and he let go of Merril, assuming a fighting stance, setting the jaw after Samael had said his sister's name out loud. Hawke wasn't done questioning him though. "Why this charade, Morrell?" he asked loudly this time, gesturing around them at the audience.
"They are all bound to see what I'm going to do with you and why!" Raen shrieked the last words, his eyes blazing with intransigent flames.
"Raen, Raen, Raen…" Samael shook his head and let it hang.
"Fight me, Hawke! Fight me and let me get what I've craved since the night you took away from me the most precious thing I've ever had!" Raen's desperate voice once more thundered in the chamber. Samael found himself unable to reply, since his throat was constricted when Haydée's chiseled face, her always derisive voice and her witty comments filled him once more. Hawke replied in the only possible way – he slowly unsheathed the katana and let his eyes sliding along the marvelous blade of Seheron catching the light of chandeliers above them.
Fawn with Varric dragged Merrill away of the opponents as they raised their weapons and bowed to each other in sign that their combat to the death had just started.
oOo
"Just die already!" Raen roared, crazed, frustrated and far beyond the point of self-preservation. The silent combat was continuing just like Samael had predicted – they were both circling around each other, waiting for the other one to attack first and thus put himself in danger. They were both extremely skilled and gifted, with many scars on their bodies which had served them well since these scars chiseled them both into capable warriors and dexterous assassins.
When their blades finally met, striking sparkles and slashing the air with ominous wheezing, the whole audience spontaneously gasped, howled and sighed. Samael didn't know nor care if they were at his side; all he knew was that Raen Morrell needed to die here by his hand. Of course there was an option that Samael would be the one participating in that ridiculous dying part, but he would rather see himself leaving the Keep on his own feet.
The fighting style Raen Morrell possessed was a strange combination of old-fashioned, gallant knighthood with cultivated manners and vicious, most unexpected sideswipes, usually ending with a serious injury. Samael adjusted quickly to Raen's style and for a while he just parried the speeding up attack, learning the way Raen fought and how he could beat him. But as the combat continued and none of them was able to wound the rival yet, Samael started losing control after all. He made several very daring strikes with his katana flashing in his hand, but he ended up frustrated even more when Raen came out of it with just a ripped sleeve and surface cut on his left arm. They clashed again right in the middle of their fighting space, their blades crossed as they both tried to knock the other one backwards.
"You just won't do me a favor and die, will you, Hawke…" Raen growled and bared his teeth at Samael.
"I… really… don't… want… to kill you… you lunatic!" Samael gasped back, shifting, ducking under Raen's blade and punching Morrell's back with the flat blade. Raen stumbled away from him, whirling around and gaping at Hawke like he couldn't believe he just could have cut him down, but he didn't.
"Too bad, because then I'll cut you in half, burn you into ashes and sprinkle my sister's grave with it!" Raen roared in frenzy and launched forward with such a vigour Hawke had no time to react with some scorching comment right away.
"My, my, Raen. You really have it all thought through, don't you…" Samael grinned after a moment when he started pushing his warped rival backwards with a fierce counterattack. Since Raen danced back and dodged the katana without difficulties, Hawke from the unknown reasons reminisced about the rules of fight his father had taught him back when Samael was just a little lad.
The rule number one – never underestimate your opponent. Ah, don't worry, father, you obviously taught me and beat me well enough, because I remember perfectly our every damned lesson. Regarding that underrating part – yeah, no need to be afraid of that either since my lovely rival just almost cut my head off with one of his fluid, unexpected, unbeatable strikes.
A strand of black hair whirled through the air before it fell down on the cobblestone. Fortunately for Samael, that was all that was lying on the floor after Raen's cunning attack. Samael stood still after this close call, challenging Morrell once more to attack first. Raen started orbiting around him with cat-like steps, so Samael lashed out at him without warning to let him know he was done playing games.
"Our little boy has finally grown into a man…" Raen sneered, although he realized how close the katana was to his throat a few seconds ago. "Tell me, Hawke, how it feels to know that you were the one who sent all your family members into their graves? Of course, only if your cupidity allowed you to pay for the funerals. Or did you dig up the graves yourself with your own bare hands to save money for whores and liquor?" Raen guffawed, his eyes flashing with predator highlights. "Have you prepared yet a new grave for that lovely apostate of yours? I wonder for how long she's gonna last…" Raen's mocking was interrupted when Hawke roared in anger and replied with an injudicious counterattack.
The second rule crossed Samael's mind too late – if you allow the opponent to infuriate you and knock you off the balance with words, you're on half of the way to a loss. Raen's sword flashed past Hawke, leaving a long, burning, thin cut on his right arm. The wounded arm managed somehow to pass the katana into Hawke's left hand before it collapsed loosely along his body, the blood oozing out of the injury and dripping off the tips of Samael's fingers onto the cold stone. Raen was now swinging his blade, admiring its crimson edge and he looked properly pleased with his achievement. Oddly enough, Samael managed somehow to empty his mind when he had glimpsed Merrill's pale face among the watchers.
The third rule – if possible, lead the opponent far from the possible weapons. Huh, that's not gonna happen since Morrell's men will simply hand him their weapons if I manage to disarm him. Or the weapons hanging on the walls here…Bah, what a silly rule to follow.
Samael glanced around the entrance hall, blocking the pain in his arm, then he cocked the head, observing the silent Morrell with perverse curiosity and sardonic grin on his lips.
"What are you smiling about?" Raen asked smoothly, far too sure about his soon victory.
"Oh, I just recalled the night I've spent with your sister in the brothel," Hawke shrugged, his weapon en garde, expecting Raen's reaction. Morrell fell silent, his face turning into a sinister mask, but Hawke's words clearly aimed well. That one breathless second was enough for Samael to jump forward and hit Raen's solar plexus with the katana hilt. Raen gasped for the air, staggering backwards and his sword clanged on the cobblestone. Samael started creeping forward and he was the one grinning now. Just as he expected, Raen stumbled to his nearest minion and ripped the greatsword off his back, turning to Hawke again. Samael halted, wildly contemplating how the hell he was supposed to fight that awfully long and broad sword with his own svelte katana.
"Surprise, surprise, Hawke…" Raen whispered and Samael realized in distress that Raen didn't seem to be tired whatsoever. Unlike him. Hawke saw now clearly that either he would end this combat now or he would be the one lying in a pool of blood very soon. Mustering all his remaining strength and courage, Samael waited for Raen's monumental backswing, ducked, kicked Raen straight into his torso again and chopped Raen's sword into two pieces with his katana twelve inches far from Morrell's hands. The heavy blade rattled on the stone and nobody would be able to say which one of the rivals looked more astonished – Raen, because he was now holding just the stub of his weapon, or Samael, because he actually managed to pull through such a stunt just with his katana.
"It will hurt the next time, Raen…" Samael warned Morrell and gave him a patronizing look; a tiny hope still remained somewhere in his mind that he wouldn't have to kill Morrell after all. Raen himself looked calm now as he lowered his destroyed weapon. In the next second Samael made the biggest mistake in his life since he lowered the katana as well, only to be rewarded with what was left of Raen's sword stuck in his belly. Samael looked down, realizing his hand clenching the wound was covered in blood and he watched in slow pictures as the katana fell off his hand. Hawke fell on the knees, aware of every breath he took as he looked up at his vanquisher who stood above him with a beatific smile on his face.
So… I wonder what would Bodahn make for dinner tonight…Perhaps Morrell was right and I should have dug up a grave for myself. Now I am almost cut in a half, just waiting for an inevitable end. I wonder what it's like after a person dies. Will I linger here or shall I teach dirty ditties to Andraste or something?
Samael Hawke blinked at Raen, like he was waiting for the death blow, ready and calm. Then he noticed an odd thing – the blood stopped rushing out of his deep wound and suddenly it didn't feel as badly as it looked. Morrell snatched the new sword in the meantime, approaching Hawke to indulge his desire for revenge, but he halted when Samael grasped the katana again, hesitant at first, then he rose from his little blood pool, feeling his body tingling and his blood rushing through the veins in an insane pace.
"What… How…" Raen watched Hawke with his eyes widened and just for a second he would swear Hawke's blazing amber eyes turned into deep red clefts. It was just a matter of several seconds to disarm the amazed Morrell.
"Yield to me!" Samael hissed at Raen and the Coterie leader had no other response than staring at the proud assassin who looked beautiful as much as frightening in his victory.
"Kneel to me!" Samael ordered him again and Raen indeed dropped to his knees and he was no longer the master of his own thoughts and deeds.
The fourth rule – never mock and kill the defeated rival for it would become a petty murder. Oh, father… How it comes it's so difficult to plunge the sword into a being, and even more hard to let him live since I know Raen won't leave me alone.
"Raen, don't…" Hawke pleaded with him, when he saw him slowly standing up again, unsheathing the short dagger as he jabbed his mad eyes into Hawke.
"For you, sister," Raen whispered and threw himself forward in a suicidal attack. The first urge Samael had was just to cut Raen's silly head off, but somehow his hand holding the katana resisted to do that – it had clearly other plans with what to do to Morrell. The katana plunged into Raen's body on the spot between his shoulder and neck, slashing across the chest and re-appeared at Raen's side, properly blood-stained and accompanied with an awful creaking of the breaking ribs. Hawke's arm was prickling since he put all his might into this one last sweep as the fifth and last rule was echoing in his head.
Murdering a person is sometimes better than to be considered stupid.
And thus Raen Morrell had died finally when he tumbled down in two pieces – a skewed, one-armed bust and a pointed 'something' which looked like a lightning struck human tree.
For Samael it was like somebody had turned the sounds on, since the audience started hailing to him, applauding and patting each other's shoulders like it was them indeed who had defeated the villain.
"What are you clapping about?" Hawke's desperate voice resonated in the hall. "A good person just died here—" Samael's voice cracked when he collapsed down to his knees, gazing at the Raen's corpse and the still growing blood pool which was about to reach him. Varric made his way through the cheery crowd, stomping on the feet of those who resisted moving out of his way.
"By my ancestors, Hawke…" he sighed, pulling the limp assassin up gently and leading him to the Merrill and Fawn. The nobles and Guards were parting in front of them and Raen's men fled the Keep without looking back.
"Samael!" Fawn grasped his arm in urgency. "I'm… I'm so sorry. I know I was supposed to look after her, but…" A cold hand squeezed Samael's already tensed mind, when his eyes found the pale Merrill leaning on the wall, attempting to smile at him and hide the wound on her belly, hidden beneath the blood-soaked armor. Samael suddenly understood; the injury he had sustained was far too serious to walk away from, yet he got up and continued in combat like it was just an innocent surface cut.
"Ma vhenan…" Merrill gave him a fading smile, collapsing into his arms when she realized there was no point in hiding the injury. The knife she used for a blood ritual slipped out of her hand.
"What have you done, Merrill?" the assassin whispered into her ear, closing the eyes like he couldn't bear to see what she had done because of him. Again. She must have somehow transferred the wound Samael had into herself, her own body, channeling her strength and life essence into Hawke's withering body in return. This way, she allowed him to keep fighting.
"I'll take her to Anders, Samael," Fawn's bloodless face appeared right next to him and Samael saw the reason here since he was exhausted after the fight and he wouldn't be able to carry her there right now.
"Hurry. Please, hurry, Fawn. I'll meet you there," Hawke breathed out and pushed Merrill into her fellow elf's arms. Samael's eyes then met with the Viscount's gaze before he turned around and stomped into his office along with the Seneschal Bran.
"Please tell me I'm allowed to write this down, Hawke," Varric managed to crack a joke to cheer up the broody Hawke.
"No." Samael droned in reply, sheathing the katana and leaving the Keep without looking at the corpse of his rival. He was too afraid the lifeless face would gape at him just like Haydée did even in her death.
oOo
When Hawke slipped into the Swaying Boar inn, his famous and conspicuous katana was left home this time. He joined the dwarf who had been waiting for him there. They kept drinking as companions in silence for an hour, but Varric knew Samael wouldn't have asked him to meet him here if he didn't want to talk.
"So, Corff is preparing the grand opening of his shiny new Hanged Man." Varric threw in a casual comment.
"Glad to hear that," Samael replied in the same tone and sipped the ale.
"He is going to invite you and he wants to open the inn just on your birthday, Hawke," Varric smirked this time, expecting an annoyed reply.
"I wonder where he could have possibly learned when I was born?" Hawke sizzled a sardonic comment through the teeth, staring into his mug. "Ah, don't tell me," he glanced at Varric with a crooked grin. "He knows from one ugly, half-tall, garrulous gasbag, who can't hold his prying tongue behind the teeth just for once."
"Your charms are overwhelming tonight, Hawke…" Varric laughed, glancing around if a little surprise for Samael had arrived or not.
"I'm very worried, Varric." Samael shot an unexpected choked statement at the dwarf who fell silent. "This bond I have with Merrill… it's consuming us. I mean, we are saving each other no matter what, we're stumbling by each other's side no matter what, we can't get parted from each other…" Samael gulped down the watery ale in disquiet.
"I was afraid you would say something like that," Varric sighed. "Actually I wanted to ask you to… You know, Hawke, I mean well, right?" Varric asked suddenly.
"Go on, Varric," Samael replied, watching his companion with narrowed eyes.
"You know I like you, Samael. And I like Daisy as well, but if I have to choose between you two, I'm choosing you." Varric shook his head and looked positively guilty.
"Just spit it out," Samael rolled his eyes.
"Hawke, you two need to stop seeing each other. You don't see that, but it's like you are addicted to each other or something! It can't be healthy for either of you and it sometimes scares the hell out of me!" Varric raised his voice, then lowered it again, when several regulars swiveled their heads towards them. "Judging by your reaction, you already know that, Samael…" Varric remarked, pounding on the table with fingers.
"Of course I'm aware of that, Varric," Samael shot a quick glance at the dwarf. "Do you think I don't ask myself every day what is it that holds us together, unable to exist without the other one? This bond we share… Where does it end? Where is the boundary? Would I be able to get rid of it?" Samael shook his head vigourously, hiding the face in his palms. He gulped the remark about Merrill drinking his blood, because the dwarf would probably slap him for this foolishness.
"All right, Hawke. I said what I wanted to. I just felt like it was necessary to say it out loud since I consider you my good friend." Varric patted Hawke's shoulder, a bit drunk right now. Hawke grinned at him, but the smile froze on his lips since Fenris just entered the small, crammed inn and as always he managed to get everybody staring at him in awe because of his peculiar appearance and behavior which was constantly screaming 'I hate you all, I was a slave.'
Fenris scowled when he recognized Hawke's face, but he stalked to them anyway. "Where is my glove, dwarf? The note said you have it, so hand it over!" the elf growled at Varric, ignoring Samael. It was Hawke's time to frown about being overlooked in such way, so he kicked the chair away, tossing a sovereign into his empty mug and pulled down the hood.
"Nice talk, Varric. Now if you'll excuse me…" Samael sneered at the dwarf.
"Don't let me bother you, mighty Hawke, I'm leaving right away." Fenris grunted, but he didn't dare looking at Samael.
"No, I'm leaving, you—" Samael countered with a menacing tone. Varric had just enough of their scornful glances and eternal bickering, so he tried to settle things.
"I called you both here to talk, you idiots. So sit down and have a nice heart-to-heart talk, pigeons." Varric belched and stood up, clearly satisfied with his plotting abilities.
Fenris with Samael were gaping at each other for a few seconds, the elf oddly calmed down under Samael's fiery eyes and he even looked like he was prone to sit down and talk to Hawke. The assassin simply turned to Varric, hissing "I'm leaving" with puckered lips and he left the tavern, making sure he hit Fenris' shoulder hard as he passed by him.
Fenris might have dared to tell the truth about how poorly Samael had treated him and it was something Hawke couldn't forgive himself for since he knew Fenris was completely right.