A/N: You guys still rock my world. Did you know that writing devious characters is tough? Also, I should apparently never write when I actually don't have chocolate in the house. This basically is the chapter I never had on my list when I started thinking about this story. I do hope you all will continue to read and enjoy!
Whenever Hawke came to visit, and she did this more frequently lately, Merrill would spend an undue amount of time sitting before the eluvian, spending some bogus efforts on 'restoring' it. Sometimes she used blood magic, just because she could. From the corner of her eye she would see Hawke cringing when the knife cut her arm or her palm. It clearly made her uncomfortable. She cherished those moments, sometimes drawing them out indefinitely until she felt Hawke would jump up and leave any moment. It didn't even matter to her that it hurt to cut herself. It could not hurt more than having her people's heritage taken from her. It served as a reminder that this was what was important for Merrill. It was her anchor. The one thing that Hawke had denied her. Merrill didn't know how to fix the eluvian without the arulin'holm. She spent sleepless, tearful nights trying to find a solution for her dilemma. Making Hawke wait and watch her didn't help her cause at all, but it soothed Merrill's raging and aching heart. Just for a little while.
When she rose, Hawke was right behind her, offering her a white handkerchief, with a really pained expression on her face. She gently took Merrill's hand and bandaged it with the kerchief. It was...awkward. Sweet, but awkward. Merrill stared down at her hands, splaying her fingers. She didn't want to feel that anything Hawke did was sweet. "I wish you didn't do that, Merrill. Surely, there is another way," she murmured. It sounded heartfelt.
It made Merrill angry. "There is no other way, it needs to be done. I'll figure it out. Let's talk about something else." She moved her fingers, the bandage tied neatly. "Thank you, Hawke. You needn't have done that." Merrill moved to pour both of them tall cups of water, the only kind of beverage she had around the house. Food and drink were never very serious concerns of her, and her need for both seemed to lessen the longer she worked on the mirror. She sat down by one of her tables and looked up at Hawke, her usual chipper self, despite still being angry inside. "It's so nice of you to come visit me all the time now. I really appreciate it. I would miss you if you stopped."
Hawke chuckled, exhaling and brushing hair from her eyes. "Never worry, I won't stop. I like talking to you. You are very interesting. In a way, I can be grateful that...that Fenris is a bit slow, because it made us pick up our friendship again, didn't it?" She laughed easily and sat down, drinking the cool water.
Again, she said. Had they ever been friends? Hawke had visited a couple of times but that was before the Deep Roads expedition. That was before Fenris became her constant companion. That was before Bethany died from the taint of the darkspawn. Since then Hawke had kept her distance, and had been antagonizing every time Merrill brought up her work. "Is he still that slow? I have been reading more, about Tevinter. It's quite fascinating, if morbid. The Dalish do of course have extensive knowledge of the Tevinter Imperium. The magisters destroyed Elvhenan, shattered the glory of Arlathan, and enslaved us. We are of the same race, Fenris and I, and yet so different."
Merrill reached for a book and leafed through it. "It says that amongst Tevinter elves, slaves of the same master stick together, forming relationships. Often, they try to keep their relationships secret, because their masters might exploit them. Not all of the magisters are supposed to be cruel, but many of them are reckless. Still, based on power disparity, he maybe feels you are too elevated for him right now. Maybe you need to tell him that you're not."
Hawke took another hurried sip of water, her eyes widening. "How...how do you bring something like that up? Hey Fenris, I think I am in love with you, and even though you squat in a ruined mansion in Hightown and I am descended from a Kirkwall noble family, we're really at the same level? Now kiss me?"
Merrill covered her mouth with a hand to not laugh out loudly. How delightful. Not only would Fenris rip her head off if she said that, but no, Hawke actually admitted that she was aware of their disparity. Did she detect a hint of pride in her accomplishments? Precious. "Maybe that wouldn't work so well. Maybe ask him to invite you for dinner? At his mansion? Instead of inviting him over, he might feel you're more on the same level. I mean, you got to impress some interest on him." She leaned forward with a bright smile. "I would ask you to invite me for dinner." Her green eyes twinkled with amusement.
"Maybe I will do both of that then, Merrill." Hawke's eyes were filled with dreamy hope that this plan might work out. "You are such a wonderful listener, Merrill, and you don't mock me like Isabela would. Thank you." She reached out to touch the hand that was not bandaged, quite lightly. I only mock you inside my head, Hawke.
Merrill felt strange hanging out and about in Hightown. She was leaning against the wall of Fenris' mansion, and had to fend off the attention of various people. Some thought she would run errands for them for little pay. Others thought she was selling her body, which was worse. City guards thought she was out to burgle the mansions, which was quite preposterous. All she did here was standing around, waiting for Fenris to come back from where ever he was. It didn't matter how many hours she'd have to wait. It would be worth it.
Finally he came, after darkness had fallen, ready to sneak into the mansion of his former master. He was a squatter, not the rightful owner, and it was only through Aveline's protection that he had lasted this long. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Merrill next to the entrance door. In the dim light of Kirkwall's Hightown after evening set in, the only thing she could see of him was the shock of silver hair on his head. He slouched towards her, then reached for the sword on his back. "Get away from me, witch. I won't waste my breath on you."
Merrill pushed herself away from the wall of the mansion, reaching for the staff on her back. It was not that she could not protect herself. He could not slaughter her on the streets of Hightown in hopes of getting away with it. "Maybe I shouldn't waste my breath on you. I merely wanted to share something with you, from elf to elf. You keep rejecting my offers of friendship."
"I would never be friends with a mage," he hissed at her. "Far less a blood mage. A menace to all." Fenris' eyes were glowing with anger now, close to her. So easily provoked.
The Dalish took a deep breath. "Just a word of advice. Hawke visited today. She had this lovely idea that you should server her dinner, prepared for her at your mansion. She thought it would maybe suit your history, what you're used to, and that it would put you more at ease if you treated her like your new master. I could hardly believe my ears, Fenris. She is however very affectionate when she speaks of you. Maybe quite like your former master. What was his name again? Danarius?" She moved away a few steps. "I find it rather tactless she would consider something like this, so I am warning you. Even I have my limits." She audibly heard his teeth gnash. The arrow had hit its mark. Was his heart bleeding? She hoped so.
She turned and left, leaving him to brood. Yes, waiting had been worth it.
The next time Merrill saw Hawke, the other woman's eyes were red-rimmed, and she was clearly upset. She stumbled into Merrill's house in the alienage, and after one kind look of the elf, she crumpled in her arms, crying on Merrill's shoulder. By the time she had regained her breath, Hawke barely managed to choke out how much Fenris had hated her dinner proposal, and in fact had forbidden her from coming to his mansion for the time being.
Merrill held her, stroked her hair, and murmured soothing words in elvhen. Playing those two off was so easy so far. Eventually Hawke would notice though how terrible Merrill's advice was. That was worrisome. They weren't that advanced yet though, there was still time.
"Will you come have dinner with me, at my mansion, Merrill? I don't want to be alone tonight." Hawke looked despondent, and maybe a touch less attractive than she usually did. Her skin was all blotched from crying, and her nose was running. She looked far more likeable right now than she ever had before. Alarming. Merrill nodded, and then went to find a clean kerchief for Hawke, to dry her tears.
Dinner at the Hawke Estate was a pleasant affair. Hawke's mother actually had gone out to dine with one of her suitors, which meant that the exquisite food served at Hawke's table was all theirs. While Merrill usually never bought enough food for herself, she dug in heartily when given the opportunity.
"Maybe I need to have you over more often, Merrill. You look like someone who was starving and now sees food again for the first time." Merrill slowed down at Hawke's words, and quickly wiped her mouth with a napkin. Hawke had relaxed again after her bouts of crying earlier, and actually laughed at Merrill's apologetic expression. "Eat, Merrill. There's plenty. You do look a bit thin. I am glad you came."
Merrill swallowed but was at a loss for words. Dealing with Hawke was really not as easy as she had expected. Elgar'nan, she was too nice. It was clearly Fenris' fault, this all. Maybe Hawke was blameless. Mythal, so much confusion. She drank more wine. Both Hawke and Merrill had partaken of it generously, and Merrill was pretty sure that this potent red wine had made her quite drunk. You couldn't really compare it to the swill you got in Lowtown.
The dessert course was spectacular. Fresh strawberries! The Brecilian Forest had been the last place where they picked wild strawberries. When they fled the Blight, they chose Sundermount as their camp. A mountain dedicated as burial site was not the best place to find nature's delicacies. She loved strawberries. There was even whipped cream, and a bowl of something that Hawke called liquid chocolate.
"And what exactly is that?" It looked dark, liquid and maybe a touch unwholesome. Hawke picked a strawberry, dipped it into the chocolate, and then ate it, making a delightful sound. It actually was appealing on many levels. It was a profound moment for Merrill as she watched Hawke lick the chocolate off the berry, dig her teeth into it, and then make those sounds of pleasure. She was not immune to her beauty. She had chill bumps on her skin.
"Come on, try one," Hawke urged her, then dipped another strawberry into the liquid and lifted it to Merrill's lips. The elf was confused, but did not resist. Especially not once the chocolate reached her taste buds. She voraciously finished the strawberry, ending up with her lips against Hawke's fingers. It was shocking for either of them. Especially when Merrill reached up to take hold of Hawke's wrist, and then moved to dip that hand into the chocolate bowl. "Maker, Merrill, what are you doing?"
The elf giggled and then looked at Hawke with a startling intensity. "Just a little harmless fun, Hawke. I did not know it would be this delicious." She still held Hawke's wrist, and lifted it back up, bringing the fingers that were coated in chocolate to her lips. She licked every drop of chocolate from the other woman's fingers, locking her gaze with hers. Just a little harmless fun, between friends. Hawke's eyes clouded with something akin to lust, mixed with shame. But she didn't withdraw the hand.
"I wonder what my vallaslin would look like in chocolate." Merrill let go of Hawke's wrist, licking her lips. Before she could say or do anything else, Hawke had already dipped her fingers into the bowl, and started tracing the lines on Merrill's face. The elf closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of this all. She had wanted to accelerate the physical aspects of their 'friendship' because soon the lies about Tevinter slaves would no longer work, but this was actually a lot faster than expected. She felt the chocolate drying on her face, felt her skin burn under the gentle touch of Hawke's fingers.
"Done! You look perfect." Hawke giggled and looked entirely flustered. She licked the excess chocolate off her fingers. Such a captivating image. Merrill tried to cool herself down with flashes of memories of Sundermount. She needed more control. Her memory locked on Fenris and Anders mocking her once Hawke had denied her. What a cold shower.
More calculatingly, Merrill put a coy smile on her lips. "And now what? You can't waste the good chocolate like this. You need to eat it. Like this." She dabbed some of the chocolate on Hawke's face, right next to her lips, and then leaned forward to lick it off. She heard Hawke's breath hitch in her throat. Merrill's senses reeled. Hawke was so innocent, so sweet. How empowering it felt to play with her like this. Fenris wouldn't be able to compete with this. "Come on, Hawke, try it. All the tasty chocolate."
What an intoxicating mix of desire, joy, shame and guilt, so visible in Hawke's eyes. Merrill put both hands on Hawke's thighs, leaning forward again to have another lick at the spot. Their faces were so close. Hawke exhaled, and with an almost tormented sigh closed the gap, kissing and licking the chocolate lines off Merrill's face. "I bet that tastes good, Hawke. It feels good." She murmured encouragingly, until it felt like every trace of her chocolate vallaslin, from forehead to her bottom lip, was all wiped clean. Her hands dug into Hawke's legs when their lips almost touched. Merrill couldn't help herself, it was her body reacting, not her mind.
Just some harmless fun between friends.
Merrill looked at the shaken Hawke who still wore all those conflicting emotions on her face, amplified by all the alcohol. She made a quick executive decision. Best not to overdo it. She emptied her glass of wine, then rose. "Hawke, thank you for such a wonderful dinner. You are the greatest of friends. Thank you for sharing the chocolate with me. Only true friends would share something like this. We are friends, yes? All good?" She could not resist dipping into the bowl one last time, wiping a chocolate smudge across the bridge of Hawke's nose. It looked reckless, far more reckless than their intrepid hero actually was. Hawke numbly nodded and opened her lips to speak, yet Merrill stopped her, with sweet fingers. Hawke kissed the fingers, briefly enclosing them with the warmth of her lips, of her mouth. Time to leave, before Merrill did something stupid. She leaned down to kiss the tip of Hawke's nose, and then departed.
As she stumbled down the neverending steps towards Lowtown, Merrill's body burned with the same conflicting emotions she had seen on Hawke's face. She should feel triumphant that she had filled Hawke with lust for her, and she certainly lusted for Hawke, but it also felt dirty and shameful.
She considered sending Fenris a message, informing him how his rejection of Hawke was driving her into Merrill's arms. No. Too early.
Merrill touched a hand to her sticky face, and wished she tasted the chocolate again, and not this bitter taste as of ashes. Was it the acrid air of Lowtown, or was it because she was messing things up? It was impossible to tell.