"You too?"
"Yes. Me too."
"And you, elf?"
"I'm here, am I not? Of course me too." Fenris growled in reply and glared at the dwarf.
"So our dear leader has honored us all with a short note to come here while he has no intentions to show up or what?" Varric started pacing through the moist sand and swore loudly when it started getting into his boots.
"Anders is coming, I think." Aveline interrupted Varric's a bit comic jumping to get rid of the sand, while the mage was striding towards them.
"Ah," Anders inhaled deeply of the fresh salty breeze, "I'd almost forgotten not everything smells like Darktown shit." He approached the group and nodded at his friends. They noticed he looked much better than they had seen him last time. The shards of his old charm were still alive under his usually sullen mask and he even looked like in a very good mood.
Nobody laughed at Anders' little joke though. Aveline reached her hand holding the note from Hawke towards the mage with a mute question if he got the same message which was obvious anyway since he was there.
"What's Hawke up to this time, huh?" Anders shot a quick glance at Fenris, but judging by his morose expression he wasn't any wiser here than the rest of them.
"I don't know, but I worry." Aveline searched the faces around her, but none gave her answers for what was bothering her. "I mean, ever since Merrill left —" she fell silent when Fenris scowled at her after she had said Merrill's name and stomped away from them, facing the calm sea. "Ever since Merrill left him, there's been something… off… about him." Aveline continued with stubbornness, but her narrowed eyes were now jabbed into the broody elf's back. "He doesn't talk about returning to Fereldan anymore, he's neglecting his lyrium business, and he barely talks to anyone for that matter. And then there's that lad, what was his name, who is he? Hawke doesn't let anyone near him and suddenly he picks up stray children from the street and lets them live literally ten feet away from him at his own estate?" Aveline's voice was becoming louder and more outraged with her every word. "I don't buy that," she snorted. "Something is going on." Aveline sauntered by Fenris' side, but the question froze in her throat when she spotted his set jaw and glassy eyes, telling her Samael seized talking even to his closest friend.
"Any news about Isabela?" Varric interrupted the silence and walked by Fenris' other side. He had to admit the Wounded Coast looked almost magical today. The darkening sky was clear which was unusual for early autumn; the sea was ploughed by brittle waves with white crests and it looked like it would devour the crimson sun hanging above the horizon at any minute. The first stars were peering at them on east where the sky was colored into indigo shades, while the last sun rays were illuminating the ragged rocks on the coast. They were all so captured by the scene in front of them that they completely ignored Varric's question. Aveline was the first to wake up though.
"I assume the Qunari have her. What they will do with her…" she sighed and shook her head. "I can understand Hawke felt betrayed and hurt after what she's done, but I do not approve of the way Samael got rid of her." Aveline glanced at her friends, but nobody looked at her. "I mean, she was and still is just a filthy pirate wench, but somehow our filthy pirate wench, right?" Captain fell silent when nobody reacted at her thoughts.
"I can't believe he simply handed her over to those horn-heads either." Anders strolled to them and so they all stood there on the shore in silence, watching the sun sinking into the dark red waters.
"Do you hear that?" Fenris twitched and glanced behind him with a hand on the hilt of his greatsword. The rest of them glanced at each other in confusion, but after a minute there were no doubts something was approaching them. They all waited breathless, listening to the odd creaking and clattering which was growing stronger.
A ghostly horse-drawn black carriage materialized from the evening shadows and stopped right in front of the astounded companions. Their astonishment only grew when they recognized the coachman – nobody but Ichabod Bane, shrouded in a dark green cloak and with a proper sneer on his lips. Yet another open wagon jolted through the sand, drawn by Hawke's little horse which was led by the skinny boy who stopped the horse abruptly and stared wordlessly at the companions who stared back.
"What's this? You look like you are at a funeral, friends." A quiet sarcastic voice pierced the uncomfortable silence and only now they finally saw Hawke leaning on the carriage with his arms folded on chest and his legs crossed.
"Hawke!" they blurted at once and surrounded him, but nobody dared touch him. He looked oddly at ease considering he had brought his dead Qunari friend's body here for a proper pyre. Yet there was a strained smile on his face while his eyes were cold and almost black. "I need a hand with this, if you don't mind." Again, Hawke's voice sounded casual, although he was referring to a slender boat with the dead warrior which had been carefully attached on the wagon.
"Of course." Aveline confirmed for all their willingness to help. "But that's —" she whispered when she marched right to the boat and saw what was inside. Who was inside. She coughed in uneasiness, but she got a hold of herself in no time and started orbiting the boat to learn how to pull it down without disturbing the sleeping Qunari leader inside of it. Samael pretended he wasn't aware of their stealthy glances and nervous whispering behind his back as he strolled to the silent boy who was watching him with a badly hidden devotion. Only a nod was needed for Hein to disappear in the carriage and when he re-emerged, he dragged the Arishok's weapons with him. Hawke took them from the lad and slowly walked towards the boat which was ready at the shoreline and the waves were crushing at it, turning into white puffy foam.
Samael weighed the weapons in his hands before he laid them carefully down into the boat so that they were covering the Arishok's feet. He then stared in silence at the fallen Qunari, as though he couldn't force himself to stoop and push the boat on the open sea.
"Samael…?" A hesitant hand squeezed gently Hawke's shoulder and he jerked although he recognized well Fenris' hand and his velvet voice. "You do know the Qunari don't bury their dead, right?" The elf asked quietly and pulled his hand back since Hawke was clearly uncomfortable about the elf touching him.
"Yes, yes. I do know that. They consider their dead bodies as nothing but some flashy bags not worthy of noticing or some special treatment." Hawke replied with a tired voice, massaging his temples.
"And yet you…" Fenris' thoughtful voice trailed off as he took one step towards the assassin.
"Yes. Yet I want to give him a proper pyre, Fenris. Do you have a problem with that?" Samael lashed out at the elf who just gave him a wry shake of his head in return. Yes, Hawke was doing it again. Irritated by tiny things, insecure, secretive and hostile even to his most faithful friend and occasional lover. Maybe it was this innocent attempt to talk to Hawke which made Samael to bend over finally and push the boat with all his strength on the free sea. It cruised the calm surface and floated away from the shore, followed by Samael's wide open eyes.
Hein shuffled by Hawke's side with a torch in his one hand and a bow in his other hand, waiting patiently for his master to look at him. In trance and without looking elsewhere but the boat, Samael took the bow, pulled out one arrow from the quiver strapped on the lad's back and set the tip of it on fire.
When the companions came closer, they noticed Hawke's otherwise confident hands were uncontrollably shaking, so they were not surprised when the arrow wheezed through the air and disappeared in the dark blue waters with a choked sizzling.
"Uhm, Hawke," Varric chuckled nervously, "that was not even close." The meddlesome dwarf was obviously unable to spare Hawke of this little mocking observation. Hurling the bow into the sand, Samael just glared at the dwarf with such a scorching expression, Varric fell silent and looked down on his boots to search his conscience.
A lanky hand picked up the bow and dusted the moist sand off it before it reached to Hawke, so he could try again and set the boat on fire. Despite the heavy black cloak, Samael was shivering, his arms snaked around his body and his desperate eyes set at the boat. He shook his head without glancing at Hein who was still patiently waiting for the assassin to take the bow from him. But Hawke couldn't. Maker, he wasn't even able to stand straight, let alone make that stupid burning arrow land on that stupid little boat and set it on fire, so the Arishok could have a proper pyre like every great warrior should have.
"I'll do it for you then." Hein reacted at Hawke's ashen face, quivering body and his burning eyes watching the boat with vulture eagerness. The lad measured the distance between him and the boat with rather experienced eye which nobody would have expected from such a young boy. He then nocked the burning arrow and in one fluid motion Hein raised and drew the bow, aiming up into the skies.
The boy took his time before releasing the arrow and everybody watched his doing in disquiet. When he finally sent the arrow flying through the salty air, everybody gasped and waited if the arrow would find its target this time. With almost inaudible thud, the arrow landed perfectly on the boat and the wood started smoking after a minute.
Samael watched in rapture the spreading fire until it seized the whole boat, so he didn't realize his companions stepped aside a bit except for Varric, who was through the quick and ardent voting sent to talk to their leader.
"Ehm, Hawke?" he coughed and addressed the assassin to let him know they weren't about to make it easy for him and leave him alone.
"Hm?" Samael droned in reply, not taking his eyes off the boat.
"How are you?" Varric asked a simple question.
"What?" Hawke twitched and turned around to face the half-tall friend.
"You heard me, you maniac." Varric growled and stuck his chin forward. "We have no idea how you've been lately since you don't talk to us anymore."
"I'm… fine." It was Samael's turn to grumble a reply as he turned back to face the boat which was about to sink. "Really, Varric!" Hawke almost shouted when the dwarf kept staring at him in silence with his head cocked in doubt.
"Look, Hawke, we're sorry Merrill left you, but you need to get over it and —" Varric started preaching which was very unusual for him.
"Don't… say… that… name." Hawke hissed through the clenched teeth; suddenly so close to the dwarf's face their noses were almost touching. Varric, of course, wasn't surprised or even spooked by this reaction for he had anticipated it anyway.
"See what you're doing? Stop that!" he gestured towards the assassin, as though he wanted to force him to look at himself and the way he had been behaving lately. "I must say we're running out of patience with you, Hawke. We don't know what to do or what to say around you anymore, we haven't taken a job together for so long I can't even remember when we had some fun together! And we are… I am… scared shitless for you and because of you!" Hawke arched an eyebrow after this Varric's outburst, full of stammering and insecurity, which was so not like the cocky dwarf.
"I…" Hawke started explaining, but he couldn't find proper words. What should he say anyway? That he was still hurting over his lost lover? That was not the option here, was it? And what about those he had lost before? "Just… give me some time, Varric. Please. I need some time to pull myself together, that's all." Samael whispered with downcast eyes, slowly realizing, that after Merrill, Fawn, Occela, Arishok and Isabela, he was about to lose the rest of his friends as well.
Although Hawke didn't say that out loud, Varric saw on his face, that the assassin thought they were about to leave him for good. He indeed wanted to scare Hawke a bit, so he would stop feeling sorry for himself and try to live on, but this was obviously beyond the point of a little friendly push. "Hawke… Samael…" Varric patted the assassin's forearm and his voice sounded almost penitently. "We don't want to leave your side," he shook the head with a mild grin on his face.
"I didn't think —" Hawke swiftly defended his pride.
"Oh, shut up for once, you oaf!" Varric scoffed and jabbed a finger into Hawke's chest. To the dwarf's eternal amazement, Samael really remained silent. "We know Bella pissed you off royally and we decided it was your call about what to do with her. We also know you've got one tough sodding year behind you and you're entitled to behave a bit crazy. I mean even crazier than usual." Varric smirked and this time Samael gave him an insecure smile in return. "But you must know that we won't tolerate for much longer that hiding from us, not talking to us or even disappearing without a word about where you went. So, yes, that's about it." Varric coughed and glanced at the creaking boat which was about to disappear under the surface.
"I'll behave myself, mom, I promise." Samael sneered at the dwarf and his amber eyes flashed briefly with the mischievous flames which Varric hadn't seen there for a long time.
"One more thing Hawke…" Varric started fidgeting and he looked positively guilty of something, although Samael had no clue of what.
"I'm listening." Samael confirmed and waited impatiently for Varric to spit it out.
"I want you to… eeer… well, not like permanently, you know, but… how to put it…" Hawke was gaping at the rambling dwarf in utter astonishment, but he decided to be patient and wait. "You do know Bane's house has burnt to ground during the Qunari invasion, right?" Varric asked the assassin finally.
"Yes. I saw it burning." Hawke confirmed the information and watched the dwarf in poorly hidden suspicion. "Gods, I don't like where this is going, Varric!" he added after a moment of silence during which Varric kept opening and closing his mouth, wordlessly.
"I want you to accept him at your estate, Hawke. At least for a while. I promise he won't bother you or something. He even agreed to do any work you'd assign him and —"
"Are you insane?" Samael didn't even wait for the dwarf to finish his sentence. "Do you want me to live with that… that… man? How could… Why would…" Hawke's shocked eyes found Ichabod's silent silhouette still standing by the carriage like a statue. "Are you aware we kind of don't get along?" he almost yelled at the dwarf when Bane's milky white eyes flashed from beneath the hood and it was obvious he had been watching this conversation intently, knowing they were talking about him.
"You should show the man some respect, Hawke," Varric raised the palm to silence the resentful assassin. "If he weren't there at the Viscount's Keep —" Varric stopped talking suddenly and bit his tongue.
"What do you mean 'if he weren't there,' dwarf?" Samael demanded an explanation. "He wasn't there, am I right? He just walked in along with the Knight-Commander and the Templars, right? He… he…" Hawke's desperate voice dissipated as he started reminiscing about the dazzling light ball which had appeared right beneath his feet when the Qunari attacked him. It exploded, throwing every single enemy away from him, but it didn't harm Hawke. It saved him. He remembered well that warm feeling spreading throughout his body when he lay there, injured and enveloped by the bright light. He remembered a faintly familiar figure standing by the heavy two-wing door. And then when he collapsed at the Dumar's office, oh yes, he had heard voices around him. He just thought they were inside of his head; not real. And then, when he woke up, Ichabod was there, looking as wrecked as hell, although he claimed to get there just a minute ago. Something had happened, now it made perfect sense to Samael. Something they had been keeping away from him.
"Varric?" Hawke addressed quietly the wriggling dwarf.
"Look, Hawke. You don't know something about Ichabod Bane. I swore I wouldn't say anything to you and I shall live up to that promise. I assure you, that you can trust this man and it should be enough for you to help him and accommodate him since he has no place to stay right now." Varric dared looking into Hawke's face and to his relief Samael was indeed contemplating his words with his eyebrows knitting. "Hawke?" Varric couldn't bear the long silence during which Samael didn't speak.
"All right, Varric," the assassin grumbled finally and glanced at the still motionless Bane. "I'm spending a week in my room at the Hanged Man, because Bodahn, the servants and the builders are going to work on my estate, which was damaged. So keep your friend somewhere for a week and then he can come to me and I will take care of him." Hawke was chewing on his lower lip after he had said that. "But I have no idea for how long I can tolerate him around me before I stab him for something he'd say or do, Varric." Samael frowned, but the dwarf breathed out in relief and nodded like he had understood and he would make sure Ichabod would behave himself.
"Thank you, Hawke." Varric bowed nonchalantly to the assassin and Samael started wondering why would the dwarf thank him when it was Ichabod who was about to live at Hawke estate, but Varric wasn't done yet. "And, by the Paragons, talk to the elf. One more Diamondback night with him and his drunk moaning about you and I swear I'll shoot myself!" The dwarf smirked again, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes this time.
Samael followed the dwarf's gaze and there he was – standing tall and still, his bare feet washed by the foamy waters, and he was watching the sea, although the boat had sunk already. Samael nodded at the dwarf and slowly ambled towards the lyrium warrior, until he stood right next to him, gazing over the sea just like him. Fenris winced when he glanced at the silent assassin, then he went back to his intent staring forward in bitter silence.
"Fenris…"
"Samael…"
They started talking at the same time, looking at each other, only to go back to their silent watching the horizon again.
"Have I done something wrong?" The elf spoke when it seemed Hawke was waiting for some question.
"No," was the assassin's terse, yet gentle reply.
"Have I said something wrong?" Fenris didn't give up and took the opportunity to ask questions that were burning in his mind.
"No, Fenris." Hawke shook his head. The elf just snorted and bolted away from the taciturn assassin, but Hawke managed to catch his arm and stop him. "Don't you see, Fenris? It's me! It has always been me! I'm the damaged one! I'm the insufferable one! I should be aban —"
"And I am the one who never cared about what you say about yourself! What you think about yourself! I… I…" Fenris stammered and jerked his arm out of the assassin's grasp.
"I don't deserve that! Do you hear me?" Samael shouted and obviously he didn't care everybody else had heard that, too.
"I've listened to your yelling for years, Hawke!" the elf bawled in reply and shook the stunned rogue, so he would finally wake up and see the truth.
"I know." Samael whispered with his widened eyes piercing the elf. "I'm sorry that I'm not whom you'd like me to be," he lowered the head and closed the eyes. Black hair fell over his face and obscured it mercifully.
"Just… talk to me. That's all I ask. All I want. Don't shut me down again." If anybody else would hear those choked words, nobody would have guessed they really came out of the proud and always cynical elf's mouth.
Samael's throat constricted when he realized the self-confident lyrium warrior, who wasn't scared of the army of slavers hunting him, of the dragons or any other beast they had ever encountered together, was standing right in front of him with the tears in his eyes, because he couldn't live without Hawke anymore.
"Come to me tomorrow evening to the Hanged Man. Please. Just the two of us." Samael closed the gap between them, so they stood as close to each other as it was possible without touching each other. Fenris took his time before replying. He searched carefully the assassin's expressive face, trying to figure out, just how much this was a forced invitation or if Hawke really desired his company. Samael had slightly parted lips, disheveled long black hair was waving in the mild breeze and his eyes were burning with the fire Fenris had seen there before countless times. The same fire he had in his eyes when he dashed to Fenris' mansion in the middle of night, uninvited, even unwanted several times, but persistent and savage in his need. He took the elf or Fenris took him without giving it much thought; without thinking about where these wild nights would lead them eventually.
"I have to think about it," Fenris breathed out finally, but his arms creeping beneath the Hawke's cloak were eloquent.
"Good." Samael smiled faintly down at his elf and kissed his lips lightly, as though he feared the elf would push him away. Hawke found himself completely at ease suddenly, his mind was drifting away in Fenris' arms and he wished this moment to last. Alas, they were interrupted.
"Hawke, we hear… something," Aveline marched to them and informed them, although she didn't dare looking at the still intertwined friends. Samael was sure she was blushing, grateful for the darkness around them to cover it up. Hawke let go of the elf and they both strolled towards the group loitering by the carriage.
"Sheesh, Hawke, I said go talk to him, not fuck him right here on the beach under the moon." Varric murmured only for Samael's ears and rolled the eyes. They were about to guffaw, when the mild salty breeze brought to them distant clatter of horse hooves.
"What the…" Hawke narrowed the eyes into dark fiery clefts as his hand checked on his twin blades swaying by his hip.
"Perhaps you invited somebody else to this lovely night soirée…?" Anders cracked a joke which left all of them wondering about his suspiciously good mood rather than the newcomer.
"But that's —" Aveline squeaked and sounded almost like a woman. Almost.
"Well, holy shit, I smell trouble." Varric whispered to the Guards Captain when the rider halted the horse right in front of them and jumped down. Hawke's face froze into an impenetrable mask, since it was Merrill who was standing in front of him right now. As much as it seemed impossible, Samael was even more astounded by the horse than the unexpected presence of the Keeper he still loved.
"Occela?" Hawke whispered in disbelief and the horse whickered as he heard his name. "How did you get here?" the assassin asked and approached the silver stallion. "How did you know I'm here?" Samael's expression changed since the last question was meant for the Dalish witch.
"You called me here," Merrill peeped and looked confused. She fumbled in the bag and reached her hand holding vellum towards the assassin. Samael took it, carefully avoiding her skin, and glanced around him to see how the others were reacting at Merrill.
"Meet me at the Wounded Coast by the nightfall. Hawke." Samael read out loud the short message and shook the head, since handwrite looked definitely like his own, but he certainly didn't write it. "And the horse?" he asked again, sounding calm now.
"He appeared at the camp two hours ago, with this message," she replied very quietly and seemed to be unable to look at her former lover.
"And you didn't know better than to mount the strange horse immediately and rush here just like that?" Samael continued his investigation and he didn't know if Merrill's both foolishness and devotion were pleasing him or disturbing him. "I didn't write it," Hawke crumpled the note mercilessly and dropped it into the sand, "and that's my horse," he nodded towards the snorting beast Fawn had left behind.
"I need to talk to you, Samael." Merrill mustered her courage and looked straight up into the amber eyes. Hawke averted his gaze, but shrugged at her demand and stomped a few steps away from the group.
Relatively alone, Merrill's words seemed to get stuck in her throat.
"How are you?" Samael broke the fragile silence first, searching the night sky.
"Good," she replied immediately. "Good…" Merrill added more to herself after a moment. "And you?" she asked shyly.
"Good." Samael replied with dignity.
"You said you'd come." Merrill blurted out before thinking this sentence through.
"I said I'd come eventually." Still oddly calm, Hawke replied along with a mild shrug.
"Hawke —" Merrill started again, but she was interrupted with his raised hand.
"Merrill, don't." He approached her and took a first thorough look at her. Her dark braided hair was longer than he remembered, he recognized Marethari's staff strapped on her back and her robes were different. Ornate with raven feathers, heavily embroidered with twining leaves and dyed in greenish and silverish shades.
Samael realized, she looked like… a Keeper. "You look beautiful." He traced her jawbone with his finger briefly then he mounted Occela before she could even start breathing again or stop him. "Varric, we are settled, I hope." Hawke's eyes wandered around him until they found the dwarf who bowed in reply. "Fenris…" Samael more like whispered that name and his short, yet intense gaze told the elf Hawke would be waiting for him tomorrow. Samael heeled the horse to move towards until now silent lad who kept watching his master during the whole evening. Samael managed to astonish everyone once again, when he granted the boy a long thoughtful gaze and reached his arm to him afterwards, so Hein could mount the stallion as well.
The lad's almond eyes glittered as he snatched the arm, swung up and nestled himself behind Hawke's broad back, while his arms snaked immediately around Hawke's stomach and chest, carefully avoiding the still hurting ribs.
With no other desire than to get out of this place, Samael spurred his lost and found horse into a gallop. Occela looked positively surprised that there was a man who was convinced he needed to be forced to run, so he decided to show them how quickly exactly he was able to reach Kirkwall gates. He reared up and bolted forward like a silver arrow, hurling small balls of sand at those whom he had left behind him.
Merrill pressed her hand on the mouth; her eyes were filling with the tears as she watched Hawke riding away from her.
"Aveline?" the Dalish elf turned to the Guards Captain who replied with a harsh glance and disappeared inside of the carriage which was supposed to take them all home. Anders shook his head when Merrill's desperate face turned to him and he mirrored Aveline. They both shared an opinion Merrill just took advantage of Hawke, sucking him dry, letting him care for her and then she left him when she got bored of him and figured it would be better to go back to her elven brethren.
"V-Varric?" Merrill sobbed when Ichabod jumped up on the carriage, taking the reins in his hands, clearly impatient to hit the road.
"I'm sorry, Daisy." Varric stroked her thin arm fondly, turned around and sprang up on the coach box of the wagon which had brought here the boat with the Arishok. He smacked the lips, the wagon moved and Ichabod's carriage moved as well.
Merrill watched them leaving with a helpless expression on her face with silent tears rolling down her cheeks as a reminder of her isolation.
oOo
Hawke stopped by the Hanged Man to let Corff know he would need his room for a week, starting from tomorrow. The young Bowbitter greeted him like a long lost brother, convincing him to stay there immediately, but Hawke excused himself, because he needed to check on his estate first and put together a list of needed repairs.
When they reached Hightown, Occela was glistening in sweat, but his head was risen up proudly, like he hadn't been running to Kirkwall at the limit of his abilities. Hein headed wordlessly for the new, never used stable in the garden to take care of the exquisite stallion and Samael went to talk to Bodahn. After a short debate they came to an understanding and Hawke looked like he would fall asleep on his feet if they should talk some more. He took a quick bath to get rid of the dust and sand and crawled to his bedroom, not even paying attention to the shards and splinters which were crunching beneath his feet. The whole mansion was still a mess.
Samael barely noticed when the boy crept to the huge bed, took off his tunic, rolled it under his head and clenched the pillow on his stomach to make his usual sleeping ball he intended to cuddle up to as always.
"It was her, wasn't it?" Hein whispered into the silence. His words almost died in the droning fire at the marble fireplace.
"Who?" Hawke mumbled, half-asleep.
"That woman. At the coast. You love her, don't you." It wasn't a question and those words sounded strange, coming from the mouth of a young lad who had no chance to understand such feelings.
"Yes," Hawke found himself oddly stultified by that question, but he didn't mind the boy asking it.
"But she left you, right?" Hein saw Hawke's sleepy willingness to talk, so he intended to ask.
"Yes." Again, a terse and honest reply from Samael.
"Do you want her back?" Hein flipped on the side and tried to pierce the darkness to see Hawke's shadowed face.
"I do." Hawke realized it was the first time he openly admitted how much he missed his little Dalish pariah. Well, pariah no more apparently.
"Does she want you back?" Hein supported himself on the elbow and his voice sounded intrigued.
"Sleep, rabbit." Hawke squirmed in the bed and tossed a blanket over the curious boy's head. He giggled, but snuggled into it obediently. Despite the weariness it took Samael an hour before he was able to convince himself to sleep.
oOo
Thin ribbons of mist were snaking right above the grey flagstones of Hightown and the early morning silence was interrupted by distant barking of stray dogs fighting over a bone.
A silhouette sneaked along the massive walls of Hawke estate, glanced around and opened casually the heavy front door with a silver key. The whole mansion was asleep as the intruder figured out when he slipped through the dark main hall and started climbing the stairs.
Samael dreamt an odd dream where one person turned into another one, sneered at him, only to turn into someone else a second later. He was looking for something in a labyrinth, then he turned around and realized he stood on a shoreline, barefooted. There were two boats floating just by him and when he peeped inside, he saw the Arishok in the left ship, and himself inside of the right one. They were both dead. His heart started racing while some slow soft tones started echoing in his head; painfully familiar tones. His eyes opened involuntarily and he remained still until he realized what had awakened him. He actually heard a lullaby. The bedroom door was wide open and Samael heard from a distance a slow melancholic tune, hurling him into memories he tried to suppress forever. Only one person could creep into Samael's house. Only one person would be able to get past the always vigilant mabari. Only one person would be able to open the bedroom door, unnoticed, perhaps walk through the darkened bedroom and look at the sleepers, only to disappear in dark again.
Hawke swung his feet over the bed edge and laced up his boots hastily. He shivered since the fire went already out and he wore nothing but linen trousers. There was no time to waste since there was somebody at his estate who demanded his full and immediate attention. Hawke grabbed the leather band with throwing knives and strapped a thin belt with a blade around his waist. His own hands snatched his attention suddenly. They looked like pale spiders in the dark and they were calm; calm and steady as ever.
As Hawke approached his mother's former quarters, the lullaby was growing louder and louder until it resounded in his ears over and over again. He wished to smash that little wooden music box painted with fading colors, to silence it forever, whatever the cost was. Samael walked in cautiously, breathless, searching the dark corners of the sumptuous mother's room. The robust heavy armchair was turned away from Hawke and… Was it smoking? Hawke crept nearer and peered into it, but the seat was empty; only the agate ashtray was set on the arm stump with still burning cigar in it. The lovely lullaby turned in Hawke's ears into persistent racket when he had spotted the cigar and he started trembling in raw rage, the rage, which had been building up inside of him for weeks.
The top of the music box was slammed close, the lullaby died away and Hawke whirled around. He didn't even finish his spin and five throwing knives were already whooshing through the darkness, only to hammer in quick staccato on the ornate door the intruder had covered himself with. For Hawke it was crystal clear about what was going on there. Mahariel came back to thank to his benefactor, maybe rob the mansion or even kill all beings inside, so there would be no witnesses of his execrable deed. Samael's frantically working mind was taken aback for a second by the image of all Kirkwall criers as they shout in all four directions the whole Hawke estate was robbed blind and everybody was found dead. Samael shook his head to chase away this gruesome thought and he was already on his way to the intruder, who slipped out of his cover and disappeared under the massive Nevarran fretwork table. Only now Hawke realized he had thrown five blades, but only four were stuck in the door. Almost imperceptible sneer sprawled out on his face as he inaudibly tiptoed to the opposite corner and waited for the elf to make a mistake and reveal himself.
It was all even more horrifying since there was absolute silence in the spacious room and both rivals obviously chose a waiting game. Hawke got distracted though when he had spotted a large book lying right next to the music box and Mahariel picked this very moment to strike back. Before Samael could react, Fawn knocked him down on the shaggy carpet and they started to wrestle. It was quiet, merciless and liberating to finally have someone worthy of Hawke's vengeance, because he didn't feel better after he had given Mother Petrice to the Qunari. Actually, he felt nothing, nothing at all.
Samael sensed beneath his fingers moist fabric and he figured out Fawn's shoulder was injured during his unexpected attack. With all his strength the assassin jabbed his fingers into the wound and the elf howled in pain, letting go of him. He drew the sword, but Samael struck it down with a bare arm, slashing it on the edge though he didn't seem to care. Before he could throw himself at the arcane warrior, something happened, and later Samael could describe it like the largest wardrobe fell right on him or something very similar.
He found himself wallowing on the carpet, gasping for breath and only tiny dark corner of his mind acknowledged the elf was slowly approaching him, gloating about his powerlessness no doubt. In his blurred mind Hawke realized the arcane warrior had hit him with some powerful spell.
Fawn kicked Hawke to roll him on his stomach and straddled him nonchalantly while he checked on his wounded shoulder. Samael resolved to last attempt to shake the elf off him, but Mahariel just snorted impatiently and twisted his arms behind the back mercilessly, where he bound them with thin, yet resilient cord.
Hawke was defeated. He lay there helpless with his hands bound behind the back, the fuzzy carpet was tickling his face, his ribs were torturing him with every painful breath he took and no way he would be able to reach for the dagger attached to his belt. Judging by the odoriferous smoke filling his nostrils, Fawn had lit up a cigar to make his victory complete.
"I should not anticipate you would make it at least quick, now should I…" Hawke rasped and struggled for breath, because this simple statement weakened him even more. Still silent, Fawn slowly coiled Hawke's long hair around his wrist, so he could lift his head up and thus reveal the throat. A svelte elven blade flashed in the dark and the sensation of its coldness on Hawke's feverish skin sent shivers down his spine.
Mahariel noticed his defeated rival was holding his breath as though he couldn't wait to see his own blood spilling and coloring the salmon pink carpet.
"I came here to talk, Hawke." A velvet voice whispered into the assassin's left ear. Samael shuddered and he didn't believe that treacherous elf, even when he let go of his hair and pulled the blade off his skin.
"Sure, talk. I've heard every scoundrel calls it differently. Let's talk then," Hawke scoffed, but it sounded desperate. He felt Mahariel standing up and Samael rolled immediately on his side, so he could breathe finally. The room was spinning around him when the elf pulled him up roughly and slashed the cord binding his hands.
Samael blinked a few times to clear his head again, but Fawn's calm face in front of him was more than he could bear. Not after what he had done to him. Fawn was clearly foreseeing Hawke's next step and he blocked his attack without difficulties, only to whirl him around and remind him with a blade on the throat who was in charge here.
"I said I came here to talk, you fool. And you are going to indulge me and listen. Understood?" the elf sizzled and he indeed sounded like he regretted already his decision. Hawke nodded mildly or tried to nod as much as he could with a sharp blade on his neck. After this mute agreement Fawn pushed the assassin down into an armchair, glaring at him, then he disappeared for a moment, only to come back with two full brandy snifters. Mahariel still didn't seem content with the atmosphere in the room, so he revived the fire at fireplace and finally he seated himself in the armchair opposite to Hawke.
The whole time Samael remained silent, although he watched Fawn's doing in disquiet, desperately trying to make any sense from what had happened so far. He failed big time.
"So?" Hawke coughed with uneasiness, when Mahariel kept looking at him, wordlessly. "You wanted to talk, so talk then," he shrugged like nothing Fawn might have said would make him look differently in Hawke's eyes anyway.
"First, tell me, what do you think has happened. With you and me, I mean. Ever since we've met." Fawn leaned back on his seat and reached for the snifter.
"All right, let's start with simple questions. I like that." Hawke sneered and whirled the brandy in glass which was already in his hand. "We've encountered you at the Wounded Coast, Merrill convinced me to help you, which I did, so I offered you a shelter, protection, practically whatever you needed. There were several moments and signs telling me to watch out for you, which I didn't, so I was punished for my foolishness when it turned out you had a plan from the very beginning and you succeeded. You betrayed me and disappeared. Bravo, Messere Mahariel. Well-played." Hawke took a generous gulp of brandy and he wondered from where he drew this twisted humor, but he couldn't help himself. Fawn listened to him with no expression on his chiseled face, but he set the glass back on the table without tasting the brandy.
"I want to tell you the truth." Fawn's voice was unusually gentle. "Of course, only if you are interested," he added quietly, when Samael didn't reply.
Hawke squirmed on his seat and studied the elf's serene face for a long time before he spoke again. "I want to know the truth, I do. But I want you to tell me everything. Otherwise I see no reason to continue in this conversation." Samael leaned forward and literally hypnotized Fawn's lips, waiting impatiently for his reply.
"Very well." Mahariel nodded and sipped the brandy. "As you mentioned, we have met at the Wounded Coast. I didn't plan on it and Merrill's presence there was a surprise for me as much as my presence surprised her. Yes, I came to Kirkwall with a simple intention of finding the Tome of Koslun and using it for my own good, but Merrill or you had nothing to do with it. Until you offered me an unexpected asylum in your huge mansion. You do know I lived in the Circle for years, but ever since my escape I had no bed to sleep in, no roof over my head or warm meal every evening. Against my own rules I decided to stay, at least for a while. You of course managed to disgust me immediately when you showed me your legendary Fereldan hospitality and you uncovered my missing Circle tattoo… among other things." Fawn's thoughtful voice trailed off and Hawke knew well of what he spoke of – the row of narrow scars on the elf's back. "But day by day I felt better and better in your company and I had Merrill here, so I took advantage of this precious chance to talk to one of my own people." Mahariel caught that grimace on Hawke's face when he had heard Merrill's name, but he continued his narration without mentioning it.
"Then that unfortunate attack in the Fade came and I was convinced I would have to kill you to get Merrill out of the Gallows. You astonished me when you brought her back home despite the fact she could have killed you. We had an argument about it afterwards and I believe you heard at least a part of it since you literally crawled home in the middle of it. I knew you spent the night at that lyrium freak's house, right?" Fawn crinkled his aquiline nose when he brought up Fenris. Hawke simply nodded at the question and awaited Fawn's next words impatiently.
"In those days I finally learnt where the Tome was and when I reviewed all my possibilities I realized I wouldn't be able to do it all by myself." Mahariel's distant black eyes were reflecting the flames and clearly he was lost deep in the memories.
"So that's when you started shagging Isabela, right?" Hawke gave the elf a wry grin when he remained silent.
"Yes. She was interesting enough and very useful for my plan. Not to mention she was able to… entertain me in bed. In time I even convinced her to help me to get the book just for myself. All it took was a promise that I would take care of Castillon and that we would run away together. Crazy human…" Fawn shook his head coldly and he deliberately overlooked Hawke's outraged face. "Then something happened," Fawn glared at Samael and he realized he knew well of what the elf spoke again. Their nice night stroll to the Viscount's Keep – what else.
"You were hurt. You knocked me down and the fireball hit you instead." Fawn's voice was hoarse. "For a long time I couldn't understand why would you do such a thing. For a complete stranger…" he kept murmuring, watching his svelte pale hands.
"Then you took me to Anders. I remember you telling me something about the dragons on our way to Darktown." Hawke's quiet voice continued the elf's narration.
"I felt myself slipping away from my goal and I had to admonish myself several times. It just felt so good to be around you and Merrill, that the Tome didn't seem so important anymore. I have to admit I was watching cautiously the development of your relationship with Merrill." Fawn shot a glance at Hawke who scowled and pierced the elf through with his fiery eyes. "You were fighting all the time, then you almost killed each other at that damned glade, then you became reconciled… Even I had to admit your bond seemed to be very strong and strange indeed," the elf fell silent and lit up a cigar.
"I supposed I shouldn't be surprised you were watching us that morning when I took her outside of Kirkwall to learn the truth about her drinking the blood." Hawke droned and shot a bitter glance at the smooth elf who just shrugged like it was nothing. "The Wounded Coast." Hawke simply reminded the elf of their fight with the Tal-Vashoth. He indeed decided to learn the truth about everything.
"Yes. The Wounded Coast. I'm still not proud of what I've done there, but I do insist I like to live and I wouldn't die and be put into some nameless grave just because of some grey stupid giants from Seheron." Fawn spluttered out and gulped down his snifter, annoyed by Hawke's inquisitive gaze.
"If you weren't ashamed of what you've done at the Coast, why did you run then?" Samael still wasn't content with Fawn's version. "I mean… Merrill was worried about you and your injury and you just sneaked away during the night, only to show up back home a few days later."
"And you had nothing better to do than mock me and make jokes about my wretched state!" Mahariel's eyes narrowed and his otherwise handsome face twisted into an outraged mask.
"You surprised me that night." Hawke overlooked the grimace on Fawn's face and his voice was distant suddenly. "We actually talked that night. Right after we tried to kill each other, I mean," he added, scoffing.
"You provoked me to fight you, you bastard," Fawn grunted.
"Which leads me to a question – can I see again that pretty little thingie tattooed on your chest?" The cheeky assassin grinned and he went to refill their snifters rather than look at Fawn's narked face.
"I think I'll manage to wipe that smirk out of your face once I tell you about the Qunari." Fawn observed his well-kept pale fingers with pink long fingernails and he indeed had Hawke's full attention now. "You should know that it was me who took down that missing karataam. I played with the Arishok when I crept during one starless night to his compound and hung the limbs of his brethren on the chain. I hid their torsos at the Emporium to pin this on Xenon who managed to piss me off in the past, so I thought it would be a proper revenge if I managed to make you go after him because of your precious Arishok. How that ancient charlatan managed to get rid of the corpses I will never know." Mahariel kept talking and he paid no attention whatsoever to Hawke's wide open eyes and open mouth.
"Oh, let me continue," Fawn reacted sardonically at Hawke's shocked face. "So back then I had the Qunari weakened and the Arishok stopped sending his men to look for the Tome because he was too afraid they would keep disappearing. The Chantry zealots kept the Arishok occupied even without me, so there was no need to do anything else than wait and watch." Fawn chuckled and took a sip of brandy, while Samael simply sat there, frozen.
"But you've managed to cross my plans even without knowing it, Hawke." Fawn frowned again and set his cigar into the ashtray carefully. "It was then when I realized you could have easily mar all my plans. Isabela could go talk to you. Anders knew and still knows many things about me. They could come to you and share their doubts or suspicions with you and I wasn't sure what would you do. So I —"
"Decided to get rid of me." Samael finished quietly the elf's sentence. He didn't look at Fawn though.
"Ah, I suspect you put two and two together then." Mahariel lowered the head, although at this very moment he kept watching Hawke and his reaction cautiously. It wouldn't surprise him if the rogue attacked him again.
"The Morrels." Hawke simply confirmed the obvious.
"Yes. I caught that sly woman sniffing around the estate several times and I haven't thought twice before I slashed her throat and thus connected you to her death. Merrill unfortunately got involved, but you seemed to be prone to believe her version. As soon as you walked away to hide Haydée's body I alerted her brother with a very accurate note about where he would find his sister and more importantly – where he would find her 'murderer'."
"But how did you know I'd try to hide her at the cemetery?" Hawke glared at Mahariel and it all seemed to be like a very, very bad dream.
"Do you realize that I've spent a few months with you and I learnt how you think? You humans are quite easily read after all," Fawn shrugged and smiled when he noticed Hawke's snarl. "So, Raen Morrell found you just as I planned standing above his dead sister's body, but he did disappoint me when he let you walk away, just with a hollow threat he'd come for you eventually. Coward…" Fawn sizzled.
"Coward?" Hawke thought he had heard wrong as he jumped up and clenched his fingers into fists. "He was a good man and you forced me to murder him!" Hawke shouted and hurled the snifter against the wall. Suddenly they were both standing, Hawke trembling in wrath and Fawn estimating just how much of his truth Hawke would be able to absorb yet.
"You… dare… coming here, after what you've done to me? After what you've taken from me?" Samael saw the elf through a red veil and he wasn't the master of his thoughts or deeds anymore. "I had nothing without her and you knew that! Yet you simply took her and used her as a pawn for your own schemes! All that while claiming to be her friend!" Hawke's blazing eyes left no doubts about his intentions to kill the plotting elf.
"She was supposed to be a Keeper, Hawke!" Fawn made sure he said it slowly and loudly, although he felt his own anger rising inside of him. "From the day she was born she was meant to be a Keeper and nobody could have prevented it. Not even you!" he hissed and silenced Hawke's reply with a raised palm. He wasn't done with the human; not by a long shot.
"You claim you had nothing but Merrill, you hypocrite. Let's look at that peculiar 'nothing' of yours, Hawke!" Fawn laughed bitterly into the assassin's face. "You had family and I don't know nor will I judge you if it's your fault you've lost them all one by one. Your estate is one of the most beautiful and frequented places in Kirkwall and you're not without a talent since you control the lyrium trade in this area. You managed to surround yourself with loyal friends and allies who are willing to jump for you into the dragon's jaws. Does that sound like nothing to you?" Fawn's legendary repose was gone just like that. Samael would swear that he saw a wave of envy flooding Mahariel's face. Like there was anything worth to be jealous about regarding Hawke's fucked up life!
Samael froze after that ardent statement. Fawn's expressive face and a desperate undertone in his voice surprised him and left him awestricken. "But —" Samael wanted to argue, yell or reason with that silly elf who dared judging him despite the fact he had said he wouldn't.
"Don't you dare telling me it's not truth what I've just said!" the elf lashed out at the assassin. "Don't you dare… not to me, who…" Fawn started panting and he rather started pacing than to face Hawke right now.
"So this is what this is all about?" Samael made sure there was pure scorn in his strident voice. "Let's pity the poor elf, who had a tough life? Lonely, miserable Fawnie?"
"Say that again and I'll kill you," Fawn's melodic voice purred into the silence that followed after Hawke's mocking.
"Oh, I doubt that, Fawn." Hawke folded his arms on bare chest. "You could have done that an hour ago. You want something from me." Hawke watched as a brief wave of surprise ran across Mahariel's face. Samael stayed motionless until the elf calmed down and realized Hawke wasn't the only one readable here.
"Remember my scars?" Fawn coughed and wriggled which was unusual for him. A nod from Samael let him know he indeed remembered.
"You said you make one scar every year when you're free from the Circle." Hawke confirmed he remembered well when Fawn remained silent. "Is that…?" Samael's eyes widened when he searched Fawn's tormented face. "Is that the reason you're here?" Hawke breathed out in disbelief. "Am I your precious chosen one who was honored to perform the deed?"
Fawn's silence and downcast eyes confirmed Hawke was right. "Unbelievable!" Samael snorted and collapsed into the armchair. Mahariel allowed him to contemplate this information, although he watched carefully as Hawke's expression was switching by seconds. Finally he stood up and approached the elf.
"What would prevent me from jabbing the knife right into your spine, hm? Don't you think I have every right to kill you? And yet you're willing to reveal yourself to me anyway and trust me I would really make only that tiny mark on your body." Hawke's voice was soft when he talked to the elf, but somehow deadly soft.
"You won't kill me." Fawn shook his head after a moment and fell silent again as though this terse sentence explained everything.
"Is that so?" Hawke leaned down and whispered right into Mahariel's pointy ear. "Care to tell me one good reason why shouldn't I?"
"Because we're the same, Samael." Fawn looked up finally and his eyes were locked with Hawke's for a long silent minute.
"Ridiculous!" The assassin staggered a step away from the elf, watching him with disapproval. But was it a flash of fear in his eyes?
"Oh really?" Fawn closed the gap between them again and pushed the assassin against the wall mercilessly. "Both stained by the choices our fathers made for us! Both hurled into situations we couldn't possibly understand or even control! Both driven out of our homes to fight a desperate battle with the world to survive! Both accompanied with a persistent feeling we don't belong anywhere! Both sentenced to sleep with a dagger under our heads because we're constantly hunted! Both burdened with titles we didn't want and chased by the fame we didn't seek! Something sounds familiar to you?"
Samael had no answer for that. Everything Fawn had said was true as much as he tried to deny it.
"Both astonishing and disturbing, right?" Mahariel stepped back from Hawke. "The more I tried to hate you, the more I was growing fond of you. You didn't let the golem to crush me at the Black Emporium; neither had you allowed the Templars to find me at your estate when they dashed in without an invitation. That was the moment when I realized… I thought…" Fawn's voice trailed off suddenly.
"You thought what?" Hawke slowly shook his head and headed for the table to finish Mahariel's drink, since he had smashed his own glass. Oh yes, he desperately needed a drink. Or ten.
"I realized I could have something I've never had before." Fawn's voice was almost inaudible and Samael cursed the droning fire for devouring Mahariel's quiet words. "A friend." Fawn shot a swift glance at Hawke who was once again speechless.
"A friend…" Samael sat heavily into his armchair. "Do you think that all your sins, all your attempts to harm me, were erased by telling me the truth?" he chuckled bitterly. "I'm afraid it works differently than that." After this indirect refusal of their possible friendship Fawn strolled to his seat, tumbled down and hid his eyes with a palm. "Why did you bring the Tome of Koslun anyway?" Hawke interrupted the silence during which Fawn remained still. "And why did you need it in the first place?"
"There's an old man in Fereldan. His name is Avernus." Fawn muttered unwillingly. "He's studied the darkspawn taint for a very long time now. A year back he claimed to reach a splendid breakthrough regarding the taint in the Warden's body —" Fawn's voice cracked.
"And he wants the Tome in exchange for whatever he figured out about the taint, right?" Hawke finished the story since that made a perfect sense to him. A distant memory peered at him, a memory regarding himself and Fawn after being attacked by the golem. "You said something the night you were injured by Xenon's oversized stone guardian," the assassin remarked cautiously and regretted it already since Fawn glared at him and clenched the teeth.
"You said something… somebody is calling you. You didn't want to go though." Hawke decided to nag the elf until he would speak again. Fawn gulped and shook his head mildly.
"It appears the taint is spreading throughout my body quicker than I thought. The nightmares started to plague my dreams again and I'm not sure for how long I would be able to resist. I must do something before… the end." Mahariel sat there and suddenly he looked very old as he contemplated his own death, though he was oddly stolid about it.
"But why would you bring the book here then? Why not simply carry it to that old man and learn what he knows about the taint?" Hawke wasn't still satisfied with the explanation.
"I thought if I get you the Tome of Koslun and give it to you…" Fawn shrugged and realized his words weren't making any sense now.
"… that I would become your friend immediately and forgive you for everything?" Samael asked and sneered because that was really pure foolishness. Mahariel stood up abruptly like he was choking in the warm and cozy room. He didn't know what to do anymore, how to behave or what to say, but Hawke obviously wasn't done with him. "Did you really think I would take from you the only thing which can grant you longer life?" he asked quietly and waited for the reply in suspense. Fawn just threw his arms sideways, opened his mouth only to shut it afterwards without a word coming out. Samael realized in awe he was once just like this; clueless. He had no idea how to get close to anyone, how to make some friends or how let somebody into his own life. He was lucky because he had people around him who cared for him and showed him how to change. Maybe this was meant to be. He was the one who was supposed to break Fawn's defense and show him he didn't have to be all alone in the world. That he could have a person who would be able to put up with his schemes and insufferable arrogance.
"Show me your back." Samael couldn't believe those hushed words really came out of his mouth.
"Wh —" Fawn twitched and searched Hawke's resolved face in front of him.
"You heard me." Samael nodded towards the bed which hadn't been used for a long time. In trance, Fawn sauntered to the bed, leaving his outer garments falling on the carpet as he made his way towards the bed. His pale back seemed to be glowing in dark as he laid himself gracefully on the bed cover, wordlessly. Samael approached the Hero of Fereldan with one of his elven blades in hand and the bed rocked when he sat down on the bed edge.
Hawke traced the tip of the blade across Fawn's revealed back and he noticed well the goose bumps appearing on the skin where the cold steel had been a moment ago. Samael figured he tormented the elf enough as he set the blade right next to the last pink scar.
"Are you ready?" Samael breathed out hoarsely as though a loud sound could ruin the fragile moment.
"Yes." Fawn's voice was muffled by the sheets, but the impatience in his voice was self-explanatory. He groaned when Hawke placed a hand on the skin and slashed through it to inflict the newest scar. That thin fresh cut looked neat and harmless until it filled with dark blood which started oozing out of the injury. Mahariel moaned again when Samael pressed a white handkerchief onto the gash and watched in rapture as the blood colored the fabric immediately. The rocking mattress told the elf Hawke stood up and went somewhere, but he didn't search for the assassin. It wasn't long before he felt Hawke near him again anyway. The assassin uncovered the slash and rubbed a healing salve on it. The cut stopped burning after a minute and the pulsing pain started fading.
"I see I couldn't have chosen a better person to do this." Fawn slowly rolled on his side to face Hawke who sat right next to him, silent. Fawn watched the taciturn human in disquiet, before he crawled out of bed and started dressing up again. Samael remained indifferent to whatever the elf was doing and he watched his intertwined fingers. The tips of them were reddish with Fawn's blood.
"I'm leaving, Hawke." Fawn shifted his weight on his other leg and observed the assassin.
"Good." Samael shrugged mildly without looking at the elf.
"I'm taking the Tome with me." Fawn remarked cautiously. It looked like he half-expected the rogue to take the precious book for himself after all.
"Good." Hawke nodded and scowled at his fingers. He rubbed them together, but the dried blood simply wouldn't disappear.
"May I… come back?" Mahariel made a hesitant step back to the bed.
"Good." Hawke was aware that this time his answer didn't make any sense, but he felt… numb. He should have killed the elf, but he couldn't.
"Samael…?" The assassin looked up at the elf who appeared right in front of him, placing the heavy Tome on the bed. Fawn had no idea how to make the human forgive him, although he knew he wanted that beyond measure.
"Why, Fawn? Why all those elaborate schemes? Why all those intricate long shot plans? Why manipulating with so many people?" Hawke's voice was becoming louder and more hysterical with his every word.
"Because… I could, Hawke. That's what I have known my whole life. That's what has been keeping me alive and sane so far." Fawn whispered his reply. "I'm sorry I borrowed Occela right after I had given him to you. He's still yours, of course." Mahariel reached for the book again, then hesitated for a second, before he leaned down and placed a long gentle peck on Hawke's sombre forehead.
"Farewell, Hawke." Fawn tried not to sound hurt because of Samael's disinterest and he rather turned around and headed for the door.
"Until we meet again, Mahariel." Fawn smiled to himself and turned around when Samael's voice stopped him, confirming indirectly he hadn't banished the elf from his life for good.
Samael blinked and the arcane warrior was gone.
oOo
The Hanged Man was crammed and it seemed the smoke-filled air could have been slashed into slices. Corff seemed to have his hands full this evening and he glanced occasionally at the painting of his father Charlie which was hung on the opposite wall.
Samael made sure his face was covered with a hood before he walked in and made his way towards the young bartender. The lad scurried right after him, looking arond with his almond eyes wide open.
"I bid you a welcome, oh mighty Champion of Kirkwall!" Corff chortled softly, making sure nobody but the newcomer would hear his words.
"Oh, shut up, Bowbitter!" Hawke lashed out at him because of the hated title. They rivaled each other before they burst out guffawing. "Is my room properly spotless, mice-less and with whiskey bottles stuffed everywhere possible?" Hawke asked, still snickering.
"Everything is taken care of. I even added a comfortable cot for your young… companion." Corff glanced at the lad who was pressed tight against Hawke's side; important to say the assassin didn't seem to mind. "If you need anything, just send me the boy with your demands and I'll take care of that. And —" Corff leaned forward and supported himself on the elbows, "if you require some lady companionship later, let me know." There was a cunning glint in Corff's eyes as he smiled broadly at his guest.
"You wound my pride, young Bowbitter," Samael granted him a cold gaze. "I hoped for more than just one lady." Hawke remained serious until Corff's face twisted into insecure mask, like he wasn't sure if he really offended the Champion or if he was just shitting him. Samael's lips twitched when he couldn't manage to stay glum anymore and Corff grinned again, gesturing upstairs where Hawke's room was.
"Thank you, Corff. You're more like Charlie than I thought." Hawke bowed to the young inn proprietor and headed for his room with Hein at his heels. A large room was clean with the fire crackling in the stone fireplace and Hawke collapsed into a huge old bed which creaked under his weight. He laughed shortly and stretched lazily while Hein started exploring the closets.
"When you're done rummaging through my stuff, run to Corff and tell him to make me fish. But ask him first if he makes them just like Charlie did. I don't want them otherwise." Samael glanced at the lad who was poking through an upper drawer and jerked when Hawke had addressed him. "If you need anything, tell him as well and tell him to put it on my tab, rabbit." Hawke's hand fumbled beneath the bed until he dragged out triumphantly a dusty whiskey bottle which had been there for Maker knows how long. Samael watched as the lad approached him with a teasing sneer on his lips, then he slowly pried the bottle out of Hawke's hand, not taking his hazel eyes off his master's face. Hein sunk his teeth into a cork and pulled it out, spitting it across the room just like Hawke.
"Tsk, tsk. I really am a bad influence on this innocent and virtuous boy." Hawke whispered loudly enough for the boy to hear that. Hein blushed before he took a generous gulp of whiskey, handing the bottle back to Hawke afterwards. When the lad disappeared, Samael started contemplating that odd expression on the boy's face; the expression covetous of Hawke's attention or even approval. He shrugged when his mind refused to make any conclusions right now and Samael closed his eyes.
oOo
Hein waited impatiently for grilled fish and Corff was aware the lad remained near the bar for a reason – he seemed to be nervous about people of all sorts around him. The young Bowbitter shooed away from the lad a few drunken scoundrels and a whore who tried to speak with him and kept an eye on him until he handed him a tray with steaming meal. Hein granted him a faint smile, obviously glad he could hide in the room again.
As the boy made his way upstairs through the crowds, his eyes set cautiously on his full tray in his hands, something had stopped him even before he heard the voice. A painfully familiar voice.
"Alejandro… Belehein… Herrera." A quiet, exotic voice slowly pronounced and laughed shortly when the lad jerked and the glasses on the tray started jingling since Hein's hands started shaking uncontrollably. "Or simply Hein to friends," the voice continued lightly, not paying attention to the lad's anxiety. Hein gulped, set the tray carefully on the stained table and collapsed on the seat opposite to a stranger who leaned backwards on his chair.
"Master Aranai…" Hein breathed out and shivered when the Crow's penetrating eyes pierced him through.
"You didn't expect us to leave you alone, now did you?" Zevran sipped his ale casually and grimaced when he realized its taste. "By the pants of the Antivan Queen…" he muttered. "What do they add to this swill?" he asked the lad with his lips twisted into a crafty sneer.
A mute shake of head from the lad made the assassin laughing. A strident, merciless sound.
"Your father owes us, young Serah Herrera." Zevran continued and suddenly there were no traces of smile on his appealing face.
"My father is dead." Hein countered and dared looking into the elf's face.
"We know that. That's why his debt fell into your hands, Alejandro." The Crow shrugged and whirled the ale in the mug.
"No." Hein simply stated his attitude; his voice sounded more bravely then he felt though. Both of them remained silent after Hein's rejection, until Aranai sighed and leaned forward on his seat.
"The Crows have been watching one small and rather peculiar house in Nevarra." The Crow fell silent like this sentence explained everything. When Hein didn't react, Aranai continued. "A woman lives there with her new husband and six children. Wait, now comes the interesting part. You've been sending this woman some gold for a while. Why, I asked many times. It turned out she is your mother, Serah Herrera. You don't want to force us to pay the poor innocent woman a visit and explain to her why… she… must… die." Zevran's voice became almost inaudible and he smirked when he noticed the horror in Hein's eyes.
"Are you telling me that you came all the way from Antiva just to threaten me and enslave me into your ranks?" Hein asked with his eyes narrowed, while his mind was frantically contemplating his possibilities.
"Ah, don't favor yourself that much, boy." Zevran's eyes glowed as he glanced around him to make sure nobody was listening to them. "A contract has been made for a certain person here in Kirkwall. Our first sent Crow failed unfortunately, which, as you know, doesn't mean, that the contract is over. Even so when the client who paid handsomely is dead, such a shame." Zevran sighed with pretended sorrow. "Such a beautiful and cruel woman she was," he added. "But as the Crows say, death happens, no?" Aranai laughed heartily. "Now comes the most interesting part." The elf's expression shifted again into curious sneer. He reminded of a cat; cat playing with a mouse. "We knew you are here for some time, hiding among the rascals of this boring city, but then you disappeared and you started to make your appearance with a very interesting and powerful person instead." Zevran stapled his fingers and watched the pale boy with interest. "What does he do with him, I wondered. Why does he go everywhere with him, I asked myself. Does he work for him? Does he… know?" Zevran's eyes flashed with deadly flames.
"Are you saying…?" Hein's eyes widened and his hands fell helplessly by his sides.
"The contract is bound in blood. It is a sacred agreement between the Crows and a dead woman from Kirkwall. She had rather poetic name - Haydée Morrell, I think. The price was paid and yet the contract remained unfinished. The offer from the guild master is clear – finish what Sven Sieggbard started and we will consider your debt as fulfilled."
"I don't know the person you're looking for." Hein's voice sounded deaf and he didn't dare looking into Crow's face after this lie. Zevran jabbed his eyes into the poor lad and said nothing. He finished his ale and stood up gracefully, sauntering right behind the sitting boy.
"You have two days to think about it before I come back for your reply. Kill the Champion of Kirkwall and I'll call my men in Nevarra back. If you refuse, well, such a shame..." Zevran purred into Hein's ear, tossed a silver on the table and disappeared in the crowd like a ghost of past.
oOo
Yet another interesting conversation took place at the Hanged Man that night, not far from Hawke.
A short stubby silhouette slipped into the last room on left, but not before it glanced around to make sure nobody was following.
Varric had to wait for his eyes to get accustomed to the darkened room, only then he realized his guest was sitting in front of a dressing table, watching his face in the mirror intently.
"I wonder why a dwarf would have something like this," Ichabod nodded towards the piece of furniture meant for the ladies, "in his bachelor room where he lives strictly alone." Bane moved on a bit and looked at Varric through the glass.
"Do you really think I live like a damned monk?" Varric chuckled and poured two glasses of red wine. "To tell the truth, your presence here is ruining my chequered social life and I do have ladies here. Well, occasionally." The dwarf strolled towards Bane and offered him the glass.
"While you were gone, that Miss Occasionally of yours was here, asking if you'd need her services tonight." Ichabod cackled and almost spilled the wine.
Varric only rolled his eyes, murmuring "I do hope you haven't scared her to death. I'm quite fond of this one…" He fell silent when Ichabod arched his eyebrow, but fortunately for the dwarf he kept his sardonic comment to himself this time.
"Varric?" Ichabod was whirling the wine in a glass and he watched it, when he spoke again. "Please, tell me again what Samael said to your suggestion about me living at his estate for a while." Bane gulped and awaited Varric's words.
"Well, as I told you, he wasn't keen about this proposal at first. He actually suggested in his own charming way I sould shove this idea up my own ass." Varric chortled, but he stopped when Ichabod glared at him. "Then I assured him you're my friend and that it would be just for some time, not forever," the dwarf shrugged. "But he… he does suspect something already, Ichabod." Varric squirmed and looked at the burning candle through the full glass to check out the wine's color.
"Did you… Did you tell him?" Ichabod asked cautiously with a panicked undertone. "About what happened at the Keep?"
"Of course not!" The aggrieved Varric defended himself. "But as I said, he ain't stupid, Ichabod. Prepare yourself for him asking many questions as soon as you move in."
Bane didn't answer, only his head lowered as he set the untouched glass of wine on the table. "Ichabod." Bane snorted after he had said his fake name. "Ichabod Bane," he laughed, but it sounded more like a growl. "Varric, say it." Ichabod straightened up again and gazed up at the dwarf. "I haven't heard it in a long time. Please say out loud my name. Just once. My real name," he pleaded with the dwarf whose face was grim now.
"Malcolm," Varric sighed. "Your name is Malcolm Hawke." The dwarf uttered almost ceremonially. Ichabod nodded and closed his eyes in anguish right after he had heard his name, as though some mysterious pain took him. He startled the dwarf when he jerked and snatched the glass of wine again; so fiercely, that a few drops stained the floor.
"I'm going to reclaim my son and everything is going to be just fine." Malcolm raised his glass with hope in his voice. "I won't stop until what's left of Hawke family is reunited again," he promised to himself and looked at Varric.
"Hopefully that beloved son of yours won't stab you during the process." Much less cheerful Varric murmured, but met Ichabod's glass with his own.
"Yes…" Ichabod sipped the wine thoughtfully. "That sounds like Samael," he glanced at the degusting dwarf. "That indeed sounds like my son."
END