A boisterous crowd was loitering around the newly established Hanged Man, but the brawny bouncers were selective about who was allowed to enter tonight and who was not. Several Lowtown scoundrels had attempted to get inside anyway but that just led to their leader being dragged away from the Hanged Man right after a Chasind bouncer's fist had explained to him that there was no way to get inside without an invitation.
"Aveline! Here ya go, you old-timer!" The already tipsy Isabela used her elbows to cut a corridor through people to get to her friend. She roared with laughter when she realized the Captain wasn't wearing her usual spotless uniform, but she was fidgeting in fetching attire made for actual women.
"Oh my, you do have tits!" The pirate babbled merrily right into Aveline's ear.
"Shut up, whore…" the Captain murmured and she glanced around like she was looking for somebody.
"Deciding to finally bang that Guard with sweet ass, are we…" Isabela sneered about this very accurate observation and judging by Captain's flushed cheeks, the pirate was more or less right.
"Is Hawke already here?" Aveline asked in a casual tone, praying for Isabela to stop talking about Donnic. Or stop talking at all, that is.
"You know, I seriously doubt that he'll show up tonight…" Isabela looked pensive for a while. "This whole charade is Varric's doing anyway and I don't believe that Hawke would willingly participate," she continued, when Aveline just arched her eyebrow at her. "Don't get me wrong – I'm glad there's free liquor and Corff said I can have my old room back, but Hawke just doesn't seem to appreciate much attention." Isabela laughed.
"Since when do you care for Samael's peace of mind, huh?" Aveline asked and showed the bouncer her golden invitation; yet another demonstration of Varric's pretentious taste no doubt. The huge Chasind examined in admiration Aveline's well-built body in titillating robe and he actually bowed to her, gesturing inside like she was allowed to enter.
"And she really wasn't kidding about not wearing a uniform!" Varric rushed to both women, smirking about Aveline's new appearance. "You actually tried to comb your hair, didn't you…" he cracked a joke and blocked a possibly lethal punch Aveline had replied with. "This way, ladies," the dwarf pointed out a direction and Aveline nodded at Anders and Sebastian who were already sitting in their seats around the table of honour. They gaped at the Captain in her unusual clothing for a while, then went back to their ardent conversation regarding the mages.
Aveline noticed something had brushed her leg and to her astonishment she pulled out Ichabod by his neckline when she glanced under the table. "What in blazes are you doing down there?" she shook him and suddenly her pretty robe looked very inappropriate on her. Ichabod didn't seem to have an answer since he simply stared at Aveline with no expression on his blank face.
"Maker, let him go, Aveline. He's just a harmless crank." Anders turned to them to investigate what had disturbed him during his important row. The Captain shot one last warning gaze at Bane suggesting that if he wanted to stay healthy, he wouldn't crawl under the tables anymore. As soon as she let go of him, Ichabod dropped to his knees and scooted on all fours under the nearest table again with an insane chuckling.
"I wonder what idiot invited this loon here," the Captain sighed, sat down again and made sure her robe was properly covering her.
"Tsk, tsk, such deplorable remark about my charming personality!" Varric countered and slammed a bucket of cooled ale in front of the Captain.
"May I ask your charming personality where Hawke is? I had an impression we are about to celebrate his birthday, but without him present this whole event rings a bit hollow." Aveline looked around like she half-expected Samael would jump out of shadows. It seemed to be his favourite way of making an appearance.
"Don't you worry, our honoured person will be here," Varric straightened and took a sip of his ale in a dignified manner.
"You threatened him with something if he wouldn't show up here, didn't you," Aveline rolled the eyes.
"Of course I did," Varric nodded in agreement, still with a condescending smile on his thick lips. He watched in content the chattering guests around him, Corff was skittering around his new inn in a new doublet, the light from the torches was dancing on the walls and whole atmosphere was promising a very pleasant evening indeed.
oOo
Two hours after the party had started, Merrill finally managed to dress the wriggling Samael in an elegant ensemble. He now wore black silk pantaloons with soft black leather boots, and a white embroidered shirt with broad sleeves, which Samael kept unbuttoning and Merrill insisted it was supposed to be buttoned up. Merrill pulled out a scarlet scarf and decorated Hawke's waist with it, although Samael insisted he would wear a thin leather belt too with the katana scabbard on it. Merrill had already combed his thick black hair veil, braiding a few strands and genuinely laughing about Samael's cracked eyes in bliss and deep content humming during combing.
Merrill made a few steps back to examine her lover and she was indeed satisfied with his appearance although Hawke had a blasé grin on his face and he glanced in longing several times into an open dresser at his comfortable black leather armor and his favourite high rough leather tracker boots. How Samael managed to smuggle the dirt-encrusted boots into his closet through the always meticulous Bodahn, Merrill would never know.
"All done, ma vhenan. We can go now," Merrill smiled shyly at Hawke, but her smile dissipated when Samael started approaching her with a teasing, predatory-like smile on his lips.
"Or! We could stay here and figure out how to unlace your nice robe," Samael attempted for the last time to avoid the party, pushing Merrill towards the bed; obviously much more interested about what was beneath Merrill's airy gown than the gown itself.
"We need to go now, ma vhenan. They are all waiting for you and —" her objection got lost in a long kiss.
"Or! We could stay here and pretend there's no silly celebration out there," Hawke wasn't obviously about to give up that easily.
"B-but I have a present for you," Merrill peeped, although she was pulling Samael into yet another kiss and she was now stumbling obediently to the bed.
"I would rather unwrap it here if you don't mind," Samael knocked them both onto the bed, his eyes hungry and wild as he made a crystal clear suggestion about what he would love to unwrap right now.
oOo
"Ah, my Lady Bartlett, all presents goes right here on this table." Varric kissed courtly the young noble woman's hand and accompanied her to the right place. "Yes, Messere Hawke will be here, of course, no need to get impatient," he smirked and pushed a full snifter of Antivan whiskey into her hand. "Damned assassin," Varric droned under his nose, when three hours of celebration had passed without Samael. Everything seemed to go on smoothly, everyone's glass was full, there were small groups of guests happily bandying about the spicy details of the social life in Kirkwall, but the tonight's hero was nowhere to be seen yet and everybody kept asking Varric about Hawke.
Finally the front door swung open, two Chasind brutes marched inside to make sure there was a proper space for the newcomers and Hawke strolled inside without haste or much interest for that matter. Nobody was surprised when the infamous mercenary was accompanied, as usual, by his elven mistress, who openly claimed to be an apostate and didn't leave Hawke's side no matter what.
At first Samael was quite astonished by the new interior of Hanged Man and he obviously wasn't comfortable with so many people gaping at him, but he managed to keep calm and stalked to the inn proprietor first.
"Corff," he nodded at the Charlie Bowbitter's son and glanced around the inn, inhaling deeply of the scent of raw wood, odoriferous cigars, and perfume emanating from the Hightown guests. "Nice inn," Samael remarked, trying really hard not to blush under the scrutiny of every guest inside.
"Welcome, Lord Hawke, please do be seated and enjoy this evening. The tavern was rebuilt with your help and it won't be forgotten." Corff snatched Hawke's hand and shook it in gratitude. Samael coughed in uneasiness, patted the young man's shoulder fondly and turned around, realizing they were all waiting for him to say something.
"Ehm. Drinks on me tonight!" Hawke exclaimed the only thing that had crossed his mind and made any sense now, and he was indeed rewarded with raised glasses and cheerful shouting.
"Drink, my Lord?" Corff placed a single silver chalice in front of Hawke and Samael tasted immediately the delicious mead.
"Ah, leave here the whole pitcher, young Messere Bowbitter," Samael bowed a bit sardonically like it was a good stuff indeed and his gaze then slipped at the painting of Charlie, hanging above the bar. The next two hours were smudged into an endless row of exchanging pleasantries, introducing and receiving gifts and Samael was mightily grateful for Merrill being by his side, although she remained silent most of the time, no doubt afraid she would have said something inappropriate or silly.
"Thank you," Samael whispered to her as soon as they finally had some time just for themselves. Her smile told him she knew perfectly for what exactly Hawke was grateful here.
"Serah Hawke, may I have a moment of your time?" Donnic halted by them, interrupting a bit rudely their moment. Samael noticed Donnic wasn't really looking at him when he asked the question and it wasn't hard to guess who Donnic was gaping at. Samael laughed shortly about Donnic's muddled face and obvious desire to go to talk to his Captain, but he just had no idea how to approach her, so he decided to ask Hawke for help. Samael sent Merrill to Isabela who was sitting despondently by herself in the corner along with three empty bottles and leaned closer to the helpless Guardsman.
"Dear Donnic," Samael started his lesson and gulped down his chalice, "observe and learn," he belched and his eyes found Aveline. "Our fearless Guards Captain wears tonight a very unusual dress, don't you think?" he glanced back at the drooling Donnic whose eyes were sliding all around Aveline's body. "You'd have to be blind to not notice her long looks she's giving you," Hawke continued.
"Does she look at me? Really?" Donnic peeped with a dreamy expression.
"Focus, you moron!" Samael punched him to wake him up from his fantasizing. "Judging by her glassy eyes and slightly uncertain pace, she's had just enough drinks to allow you to come near her." Samael gulped down the next drink, the air sizzling through his teeth when the strong whiskey burnt down his throat.
"But what if—" Donnic still had a problem with something, but Hawke silenced him when he forced him to have a drink for courage.
"She's obviously waiting for you to make a move, idiot. She won't come after you on her own, because she's not a slut." Hawke rounded up his 'wise' lesson with yet another whiskey shot while Donnic simply stared at his love in admiration.
"Of course she's not a slut!" Donnic repeated after Hawke, but somehow his face seemed to be just too dumb to understand how to woo a woman.
''All right, Guardsman, time to nut up and shut up." Samael patted the Donnic's back and pushed him towards Aveline since he lost patience with that clueless lover boy.
A familiar bluish light flared somewhere by the front door, but when Samael glanced there, trying to focus through his lax alcohol veil, there was no Fenris, so Hawke just shook the head and headed to Anders and Sebastian whose polite quarrel turned into a messy shouting over each other.
"My, my, you really can't let go just for once and have fun, you two," he entered the noisy squabble and pushed the prince a bit further from the drunk handsome mage with disheveled hair.
"Tell him, Hawke, tell him that I won't talk to him anymore, since he's such blind Chantry lover with bloody Andraste on his crotch anyway," Anders growled and glared at Sebastian.
"No, no, no, I won't talk to you ever again, you… you… apostate! Maker himself has abandoned you, you…" Vael clenched his fists, holding back the insults he had for the mage, and with one drunken move he managed to knock over the full glass of red wine.
"Ha! I'm sure he would laugh at you if he only wasn't dead already!" Anders shrieked and his words left the prince dumbfounded.
"All right, that's enough," Samael waved at Corff to bring the warped prince who started to snarl yet another glass of wine. He wrapped his other arm around the furious mage and dragged him away. He figured he needed to sit the tipsy mage down somewhere and he brought him to Merrill and Isabela. The elven girl shrugged at Hawke's mute question regarding the sad Isabela.
"Fawn hasn't showed up yet," Merrill whispered to him, when he pulled her closer into a warm embrace.
"I didn't expect him to be here anyway," Samael murmured into her hair and glanced at the hiccupping Isabela. "Keep her company, my little pariah. She looks like she needs someone." He placed a peck on her forehead and strolled through the buzzing inn, intending to go out for some fresh air. Everybody was bowing to him and parting in front of him as he passed by them. Everybody but Ichabod, who hobbled right in Hawke's way, staring at his feet and muttering something indecipherable.
"What is it now?" Samael sighed, halting in front of Bane who reached for his hand and left something tiny in Hawke's palm. It was a crystal vial with venomous green fluid inside. Hawke raised the vial to examine it in a torch light.
"But it's—" Samael gasped, watching in disbelief Bane and the vial in turns.
"Drought of Waking Death, oh yes." Ichabod cackled, scratching his head and looking everywhere but Samael's face.
"It's so rare, that even I was unable to buy or find every needed ingredient, Ichabod…" Hawke turned the vial in his fingers in reverence, thoughtfully contemplating where the hell was Ichabod able to buy or find this. "In fact, the only person whom I've seen making this powerful substance was my— " Hawke fell silent when he realized he was about to speak about his father.
"What's going on here? Be nice, Ichabod, and go sit there and drink," Varric approached them hastily; pushing Bane away from Hawke in such vigour Samael narrowed his eyes about this sudden twist and Varric's unfathomable anxiety.
"Thank you," Hawke gave the leaving Ichabod a deep graceful bow and thus he had missed that Bane's eyes lingered at him for much longer than they should have. Before Samael left the inn, his gaze landed on two pigeons whispering and pawing each other in the dim corner and judging by the Guardsman uniform tangled in Aveline's robe, Donnic was more than successful after all.
The Chasind bouncers outside nodded at Hawke who would love to roll his eyes about these hired muscles, but somehow he resisted, leaned on the wall instead and he was finally able to take a deep breath again. It took him a while until he realized he was being watched. Fenris was squashed into an alcove across the street, trying desperately to blend into darkness. Samael heard the dark Tevinter curses when Fenris' lyrium tattoos flashed briefly and revealed him.
The first impulse Samael had was to simply walk away from the elf, making clear for him that Fenris wasn't forgiven yet for his words however true they were, but he sauntered closer to him instead, their gazes locked and both speechless. He noticed well that haunted expression Fenris had in his eyes, and Hawke reminisced that last time he saw Fenris this way was right after he had found him all those years ago, surrounded by the slave-hunters from Tevinter, wounded, and fighting for his life and freedom. He saved him that day and however Fenris hadn't ever thanked him for that, Samael was aware that a bond was established between them that day.
"Fenris, I—" Samael slipped into the alcove, searching for the right words. Restless, Fenris raised a palm to silence Hawke, but neither he was able to find proper words here. Samael approached him until the warm glowing hand was on his chest and he awaited in suspense the elf's reaction. Fenris closed his eyes briefly before his hand clasped Samael's shirt and yanked him closer to him.
"I was told you've had some problems…?" Samael's quiet question tickled in Fenris' ear since he cautiously placed his head on Hawke's shoulder, half-expecting the assassin would push him away.
"Aveline wasn't satisfied with my high wine consumption level, saying the Hightown neighbors started bitching about me again, then she reminded me I'm about to become a permanent resident in the city jail and shit like that." Fenris replied in a pretended nonchalance, but Samael caught that tormented undertone in the elf's husky voice.
"And?" Samael demanded his reaction for Aveline's reprimand, blowing the white hair strand off his face.
"And nothing. I promised I shall endevour to exist with less offense," Fenris sneered and let his arms to slip around the assassin shyly.
"Like that would be possible," Samael chuckled and suddenly he felt completely at ease because obviously he had his Fenris back. He wanted to say something about their dissension, about that stolen kiss, but he realized they both didn't wish to speak about it ever again.
"Going inside?" Samael asked after a long comfortable silence, realizing they would be probably coming for him soon anyway.
"Open bar?" Fenris decided to investigate first, making a few hesitant steps out of their hiding place.
"Sponger…" Samael shook his head with dimples on the cheeks. "Hey, elf, where's my present anyway?" Samael recalled this was his birthday as he pushed the elf back into the alcove.
"Uhm, coinless here, sorry." Fenris shrugged, lowering the head in guilt, but there were impish stars in his eyes.
"Nothing new, I see…" Samael gave him a sardonic grin, tilting the elf's face up gently and making sure that Fenris wanted this just as much as he did. Samael then briefly brushed his lips across Fenris' before he devoured his mouth in a slow, thorough kiss.
"I… I thought only your blood mage was allowed to touch you." Fenris breathed out when the kiss was over and just their foreheads were leaning lightly on each other. Samael had no answer for that, so he just shrugged and glanced at the Hanged Man front door.
"Shall we?" he reached for the elf, hauled him towards the entrance playfully and let go of his hand just a second before they entered the inn.
oOo
Merrill fell silent when her lover returned with Fenris, both poking each other in obviously good mood, but instead of asking the prodding questions she had on her tongue, she handed Hawke a rather clumsily wrapped package. Samael smiled at her, noticing her gleaming, lucid eyes and her obvious eagerness that he open the package immediately. The whole room fell spontaneously silent, observing the lovers and Hawke's closest friends gathered around him. Samael started slowly and with a smile on his face unwrapping the package, until he held a mirror in his trembling hand. His mirror. The one he had smashed against the wall the night Merrill had woken up from her long ordeal. The night Samael had revealed himself unintentionally to her.
The mirror was shattered after that night, the frame was twisted, but now it was all repaired. It was like the night had never happened and Samael had no idea if he should be grateful or mad. He stared at his own reflection in the mirror, then he slowly turned it around, tracing with a finger the elaborate twining silver vines and flowers. Merrill saw Samael was unable to move or say anything for a minute, but she knew her endevour was rewarded when Samael pulled her into a long tender hug, not paying attention to their whispering audience.
"I think I'll come up with that 'thank you' part after our arrival home," he whispered to her, granting her an intense gaze. Merrill just blushed, feeling utterly content with herself and her idea of repairing the broken mirror.
Varric approached the happy couple after a moment, coughing and presenting Hawke with a longbow with a grandiose red ribbon on it.
"We figured it might be the only weapon you don't have, Hawke, so here you go." Varric gave him a broad grin, blinking at him, when Hawke rolled his eyes, since everybody knew he hated bows and he really wasn't good with them.
"Don't worry, Hawke, we'll teach you," Sebastian swayed to them and patted Varric's shoulder like the two of them were about to give him a first lesson.
"Lucky me…" Samael grimaced, but they all saw how pleased and relaxed he felt, which was confirmed when he smiled in gratitude at Varric, Sebastian, Anders, Aveline with Donnic and Isabela who all had pitched in and bought that amazing bow.
Sudden whispering and noise by the front door snatched Hawke's attention however and he found himself staring at the hooded slender silhouette standing at the Hanged Man doorstep among the bouncers wallowing in dirt, groaning in pain. Samael kissed Merrill's hand lazily, whispering something briefly into her ear before he headed for the door.
"Don't let us interrupt you…" Hawke threw in a casual comment to calm down the nearest guests and sneaked out to meet the stranger for he knew perfectly who he was.
"Now I feel honored indeed to have a mighty Hero of Fereldan present at my petty birthday soirée," Samael waved the crawling bouncers away, attempting to have a snobbish accent.
"There's nothing heroic about what I've done, Hawke. And you know that." Fawn stomped on a burning out cigar, still hooded, and folded his arms on chest. Hawke scowled after this dark remark, feeling nothing but disquiet emanating from the elf. Samael reached for Mahariel and he was surprised when Fawn actually let him pull the hood down, revealing the pale beautiful face beneath it, now clearly upset.
"What happened?" Samael inhaled sharply, watching the elf. He pulled his hand back though, when he noticed Fawn had shot a startled glance at Hawke's hand lingering on his body.
"Can we talk somewhere private?" Fawn frowned at the bouncers standing like statues near the Hanged Man entrance again, several guests trying to eavesdrop and a few persons walking by them and glowering at them.
"Follow me," Hawke bowed and headed inside, noticing that Fawn had covered his face again with a silver hood. Once inside, everybody kept staring at Hawke and his incognito friend until they disappeared in the room Corff had given Hawke as a token of his gratitude. Bowbitter followed them there only to set a tray with liquor and refreshments on the table by the droning fireplace, then he left and closed the sturdy door cautiously behind him.
Fawn watched hungrily the tray for a while, but he resisted taking anything until Samael pointed out the elf was allowed to eat and drink whatever he wished. Hawke watched the elf's wolf-like appetite with a raised eyebrow, lounging in the armchair with one leg swung over the armrest and waiting patiently for Fawn to start talking.
"Surely it's no surprise for you if I say my time in Kirkwall has probably reached its end and I intend to leave soon," said Fawn as he brushed the corners of his mouth with a napkin. He then stood up, poured two snifters of brandy and offered courtly one glass to the surprised Hawke.
"Ehm, yes. I've been expecting you to leave, but not so soon, to tell the truth…" Samael's voice trailed off and he realized too late it sounded like he didn't want Fawn to leave the estate. The elf smiled hesitantly when he picked up on Samael's uneasiness. "Do you need me to do anything? Anything to prepare for your departure? And where are you going anyway?" Hawke literally spluttered out this chain of questions to cover up that mayhem in his head. Fawn watched him in disbelief for a while though, making Hawke even more uncomfortable.
"Why?" the elf finally broke the awkward silence, but Hawke's confused face told him he would have to do much better than this terse question to get any reply from him. "Why do you care at all about me?" Fawn started pacing around the cozy modest room.
"Uhm, I don't…?" Hawke attempted to wipe this ticklish topic off the table, but apparently Fawn wasn't satiated with this denial, since he pierced Hawke through with his shark eyes. "I don't know, all right? I'm just trying to be polite I guess. Despite the rumors I've been taught good manners." Samael laughed but it sounded hollow.
"I can hardly believe that, but if you say so…" Fawn granted the assassin a charming smile, sitting down again. Hawke frantically searched for anything else to say since he felt naked under Fawn's scrutiny.
"Forgive me my curiosity, Fawn, but I always wondered one thing," Samael rubbed his chin pensively, but he intently watched the elf to learn if he was prone to answering questions.
"Judging by the lack of manners, lack of respect for anything and anybody, and no patience whatsoever inside of you, I would like to encourage you to ask me as many questions as you can." Fawn leaned comfortably backwards in his armchair and his thin lips twisted into a sardonic grin.
"Hilarious as always," Samael yawned in reply, hurling a little pillow at the elf. "Back to my question, elf," he added with a sinister smile. "How it come you're banging Isabela? I thought you don't like anybody but the elven apostates, yet you openly admit you're with her and you like her."
"Ah, she is indeed just a human, but I do find her interesting for her free spirit and generally iconoclastic views." Fawn stapled his fingers, frowning lightly about his open confession.
"Icono-what?" Samael scratched his head, attempting to look as innocent as he could. "Forget it. So you're not leaving with her?" he asked.
"Don't be ridiculous, Hawke. Of course not," Fawn laughed about this thought. "But I would appreciate if you don't tell her anything about this," he added after a moment, glancing at Hawke cautiously. Samael just shrugged like he couldn't care less about this matter.
"You know, I thought all this time you would become friends with Fenris, but you both seem to hate each other instead. Now why is that?" Samael kept asking questions, happy about Fawn's willingness to talk.
"The thing is, Samael, that any elf, who does not have magic, is corrupted and less than an elf. Obviously you are not able to understand this since you are not an elf yourself. Elves, who do have magic, I consider my people." Fawn accompanied his explanation with very elegant hand gestures, then he continued. "Your glowing elf is peculiar indeed, that lyrium in his skin is rather interesting, but that's all." Fawn sipped his brandy, contemplating about what he had just said.
"Yes, that lyrium is quite remarkable indeed," Fawn added after a moment of silence, talking more like to himself right now. "But he doesn't possess real magic, he hates the mages because he knows how inferior he is. Just another defective elf, who is full of himself. A self-righteous prick, I would suspect." Fawn remarked, a bit bored now.
"All right, all right, that's enough. I get it, you don't like him." Samael sneered at the proud elf, not comfortable about Fawn talking about his lyrium warrior in such way.
"But you do," Fawn scowled in reply, setting his inquisitive eyes at Hawke.
"Yes." Samael confirmed quietly, but obviously he wouldn't talk about Fenris anymore.
"Let me give you something then, Samael." Fawn stood up abruptly like he had recalled something important suddenly.
"Uhm, are you serious?" Hawke arched an eyebrow, wondering what Fawn could possibly have in mind.
"It's a ridiculous human custom, but I do appreciate your hospitality, Hawke." Fawn looked like he had incredibly hard time to put these words into a coherent sentence. "Come with me," he spoke again after a moment when Samael didn't move, reaching his pale arm from beneath his silverish cloak to the assassin. The pouting Samael decided to play a little with the elf, so he glanced at the arm, then at Fawn's face, then the arm again, like he couldn't decide. Fawn looked like he would love to slap him for this cat and mouse game, but obviously he had grown fond of Samael a little as well, although he would never admit it.
Fawn and Samael strolled through the inn side by side, glancing at each other several times and since Fawn left his face to be seen this time, the ladies present gasped and swooned as the beautiful elf walked past them, not granting them if even the subtlest glance. Nobody had attempted to stop them as they left the inn, clearly not wanting anyone to bother them right now. Fawn, obviously in good mood and relaxed with the brandy warming up his body, wrapped his arm around Hawke's waist and Samael, however astonished he was by this unexpected gesture, mirrored him. They walked in silence for a while until the assassin realized Fawn was leading him back to Hawke estate, right into the blossoming garden. Samael gulped the funny remark about the soppy atmosphere since Fawn looked thoughtful now and his face was darkening with every step he took.
Fawn pushed Hawke gently on the stone bench under the tree, pacing around him in disquiet and leaving Hawke sitting on the needles and pins since he had no idea what was happening. Somehow Hawke remained silent, leaving a space for the elf to calm down.
"I possess just a few things, Hawke," the arcane warrior spoke finally. "Some of them are more or less valuable and I intend to take them all with me. But the thing I love the most—" Fawn's voice cracked, leaving Samael worried about the elf now, since he genuinely couldn't imagine anything that would be able to take that legendary repose only Fawn possessed away from him.
"I can't take it with me, Hawke." Fawn threw his arms sideways in despair. "The thing is it can't follow me through the dark paths I must take now. I would like you to have it, Samael." Fawn halted right in front of him, dropping to his knees by the bench to have a better view into Hawke's shadowed face.
"You know, Fawn, maybe you should have said you have a gift for me and then simply given it to me. Not let me know you actually need me to look after whatever you're talking about, then wait if I agree or not with your plan." Samael shook his head, but the elf's imploring eyes had unarmed him. Fawn nodded in acceptance of this rebuke, pulled himself up again and made a few slow steps into the vast garden.
"Aa' i'sul nora lanne'lle, my friend." Fawn whispered into the darkness. They both listened to the sounds of night for a while, the curious Samael forgot to breathe and Fawn had a melancholic smile on his lips. Hawke slowly stood up when a huge silver stallion materialized from shadows and walked gracefully and inaudibly to the elf, lowering his proud head to poke Fawn's shoulder. Samael simply stared in rapture at the magnificent beast while Fawn stroked gently the stallion's ruffled mane.
"This is the end, Occela, my friend. I intended to give you freedom. I intended to let you scurry under the blue skies. I intended to let you cool your slender beautiful legs in the salty waves and moving white sand, but, alas, my friend, I can't do that now." Fawn's voice died away as he patted the horse again and he called Hawke to come closer now.
"I'm giving you willingly to this human, Occela. From now on he is your new master and I know you'll serve him well just like you've served me." Fawn found Samael's hand in dark and squeezed it before he placed it on the warm and velvet silver fur. Occela shifted his weight from one leg to another, snorting when he felt an unfamiliar hand touching him, but Fawn soothed him with whispered elvish words only the stallion could hear.
"Namárië, Occela." Fawn gave the stallion a deep graceful bow before he turned to once again astonished Hawke.
"Wait! When you said you're leaving soon, you didn't mean you're leaving like now, right?" Samael placed his hands at the elf's shoulders and Fawn just sighed, unable to look into Hawke's widened eyes and panicked face.
"Farewell, Hawke. This encounter with you I did not expect, but I'm grateful it happened." Fawn reached for Hawke's hands still clenching his shoulders and held them for long seconds before he let go of him. "Return to your celebration now and please look after Occela. You'll find out soon enough he and I share a similar charming personality," Fawn smiled faintly, then he turned away from the assassin who just stood there with his head hanging. Fawn picked up his valise hidden in the rose bush and he started walking slowly towards the garden wicket, although his pace was slowing down with every step he took. Fawn was indeed fighting with himself and his better judgment, but he simply couldn't leave Hawke yet. Not like this. He turned to Hawke again by the wicket, his eyebrows knitting when he waited for Samael to look at him. When he finally did, Samael was grateful for the darkness since his eyes were filled with tears.
"Hawke?" Fawn asked into the silence.
"Yes?" Samael replied with hope in his voice, having no idea why he felt this way, but it indeed scared him.
"Nothing," the elf whispered after a moment when his deeply-burnt vigilance, mistrust and pride won after all his internal struggle. "Take care of yourself, Samael," Fawn ended the conversation and Samael just lowered his head again in response.
When Hawke looked up again, Mahariel was already gone.
Occela started foraging in the flowerbed with his black hoof, indifferent about what was going on. Samael wasn't able to shake off the persistent feeling that Fawn intended to say something else in the end, but it didn't matter now. The Hero of Fereldan was gone and Hawke glanced at the unexpected snorting present the elf had left behind.
"Damn it, Bodahn will kill me…" Samael muttered to himself, observing the destroyed flowerbed Bodahn was so proud about. Having no idea how he was supposed to take care of the marvelous stallion, Samael slowly shuffled by his side, raking mindlessly through the silver mane just like Fawn did.
Samael knew he was supposed to take care of the horse, let Bodahn know they had a new family member, go back to Hanged Man… anything, but all Hawke could feel right now in his soul was just an echoing emptiness. Occela poked his new master with the tip of his nose and it was indeed like he had woken him up, since Samael patted him briefly at his neck and left the garden, making sure the wicket was locked properly. He walked slowly back to Hanged Man, but he had no desire to celebrate anything this time.