A/N: I experimented a bit with different PoVs. Not sure that worked well. This is a chapter full of self-sabotage. I am not even sure how much longer I'll need to resolve this. One or two chapters. As always, thanks everyone for reading and leaving your reviews, they keep me going.
Hawke could not sleep. She could not breathe, she could not rest, she could not close her eyes. So many things, impossible for her to do. Why was her life like this never ending avalanche? She was the snow at the top of a mountain, tipped over the edge and she just kept rolling. Sometimes she could veer in a different direction, preventing direct collision with a lethal rock, but the momentum never stopped.
Nothing ever worked out. Not their life in Ferelden, being safe in Kirkwall, her family being safe and sound, her life being under control and restful. All she wanted was to be happy, to have her friends and family be happy, to love and be loved. She had been a gentle child who was forced to grow up with a weapon in her hands to defend those she loved, and now she was a gentle woman, who was forced to make terrible decisions on a daily basis.
She wasn't sure if she'd just made one of those terrible decisions. Everything about it felt terrible. The look on Merrill's face when she had apologized, standing there by the door, with her wet clothing bundled in her arms, in Bethany's robe that was trailing on the floor. Like a dagger in Hawke's heart. And yet, what had happened had been wrong. They were friends. That's all there was to it. Hawke did not lightly give her heart away to anyone, and she had given it to Fenris first. Neither of them had ever acted on it, but she could not just turn her back on those unresolved feelings. Yet, she had been too harsh to Merrill. She always ended up hurting the other elf in her life.
Hawke was so incredibly fond of her, had been ever since the day she picked her up on Sundermount. She disagreed with her vehemently when it came to what had brought her to Kirkwall and her usage of blood magic. Especially after Bethany's death, Hawke felt the strong urge to protect the dainty mage, keep her safe from herself. She hadn't been able to protect her sister, but she had to keep trying, she had to keep everyone else safe.
She knew things had been strained after she had denied the arulin'holm to Merrill. She had seen the disappointed and hurtful looks Merrill had given her. It was for her own protection she had not given her the tool. It was at the bottom of her rosewood chest, along with Bethany's belongings. In recent weeks, she had considered returning it to Merrill, because it was obvious how much the elf was struggling.
It would not have been right. Hawke had to do what was right. The big picture.
Whenever she closed her eyes, Hawke saw Merrill. Felt Merrill. Heard Merrill. Her laughter, so joyful and carefree. Her rambling speech belied by the sharp intelligence in her eyes. Her touch. She was obviously experienced, was not the innocent flower everyone believed her to be. It had felt so damn good. Hawke still felt like her skin, like her being was on fire, even hours later.
Hawke was anguished and bit back a cry of frustration. She would have to make a decision about Fenris, and it had to be soon. Tomorrow. She would speak to him tomorrow, and then they would see.
"You have a guest, messere. Serah Fenris. He is waiting in the foyer." Bodahn looked a bit harried standing on the doorsteps of Hawke's library. "We got that girl Orana settled in, with the help of your mother, but she's still terrified. Of everything. I hope she'll get used to things soon. Such a kind thing for you to do, to take her in, like you took us in, me and my boy." He wrung his hands as he talked, a nervous habit.
Hawke smiled reassuringly, even though her heart was beating hard in her chest. "It's fine, Bodahn. I could not just send her away, she seemed so lost. Thank you for taking care of her. Ah...you and Sandal should retire for the night. I'd like to request some privacy now." The dwarf nodded and bowed before leaving, and she heard him and Sandal talk outside, then heard closing doors.
Just her and Fenris now. Fenris. He had run away after the slaver caves, after Hadriana's death. She had left it up to him what he wanted to do, and of course he had killed her. How disconcerting it had been to see him glow, reaching into her chest, crushing her heart inside of her. Afterwards, all there had been was anger, at mages, at the world, at his history.
A nagging thought had been in Hawke's head, whispered in Merrill's voice. He is unable to love. He will never get over the fact he used to be a slave. No. She would not listen to that. She would show him differently. If only he let her. Maybe he would. Hawke's pace quickened as she walked to the foyer, watching him sit with bent head.
He rose from the bench in the foyer when she came to him, and immediately proceeded to talk. She listened to his deep voice, listened to his apology, listened to his explanation of his anger and resentment. At the same time, she kept hearing Merrill's whispers in her head. She was losing her mind.
She was desperate. He turned to leave, full of frustration of his own inability to let go of the anger and hatred. Hawke turned to him and touched his arm. "You don't have to leave Fenris. I'd rather you stay." The lyrium tattoos glowed bright blue as she touched him. He responded in a visceral manner. She heard him growl, and her back hit the wall. The moment he understood what he had done, he let go of her.
It was not what she wanted. It was time she stopped being so passive. She had let Merrill happen to her (because I wanted her to) and now it was time to be assertive. She reached for his face, kissed his lips. They felt hard against her, such a contrast to Merrill's yielding, soft lips. She grabbed his shoulders and turned him around, easily. She placed her hands on either side of his head, and kissed him. Hard and hungry, deep and desperate. It didn't feel like her moment with Merrill in Lowtown in the rain. It was the exact opposite of that. It's as it should be. Shouldn't it?
Hawke pinned him against the wall, ensuring his interest. He responded avidly, with deep throaty growls and eager hands. She pulled him upstairs, and all her assertion was pushed aside when he took control of her. His armor, his skin, his face, all jagged edges, unpolished and hard. She let go now. It was what she had wanted. It was right. Hawke always did what was right.
It hurt a bit. He was not gentle. Neither was she. Ultimately, he pleased her and she found contentment. Was that not enough? What if she felt like they had no connection between them just yet? It would grow, in time, now that this step had been taken.
No, it was not enough. When she woke, he turned on her, telling her that he would not be able to stay, because it was too much, too fast, the memories haunting him. Too fast? For months she had pined for him. "Don't go, Fenris, we can work through this together. We can! Let me help you." Desperation crawled into her voice again.
"I can't." He hesitated briefly, and then looked at her, full of self-pity, full of sadness. "I am sorry, I feel like such a fool. All I wanted was to be happy, just for a little while. Forgive me." Fenris turned and left, leaving her behind. Even if he were to be with you, he would reject you anyhow.
How foolish she had been. Now she was left with nothing. With no one. Hawke curled up into a ball on the bed. Another decision, gone wrong. The avalanche continued, flinging everything aside in her path.
His lips closed around the glass of the bottle of Aggregio Pavali. It seemed fitting that Fenris would drink Danarius' most prized wine today. A fine wine for a fine occasion. For many months, Fenris had waited for a sign, for a clear indicator that Hawke was interested in him in any form.
He thought he had seen her look at him in a certain way, but he wasn't sure. Then there were all the doubts planted in him by the witch. It was a clear sign to him that she was every bit as bad as the Tevinter mages. The ease with which she found all his worries, all his pains, all his concerns. She read him like a book. The dirty blood mage. He couldn't tell anyone. No one believed him that Merrill was not just a rambling, innocent and mostly adorable elf with a poor sense of judgment. She was worse than that.
What hurt the most was to see how close she was with Hawke. They had gotten ever closer in recent weeks. After Sundermount he had thought that Hawke had put her foot down, that her support of the witch would cease. He was ready to declare his feelings for the woman, but then Merrill came back to their midst, and it all went downhill from there.
He tipped the bottle again, the costly wine gliding down his throat to shoot heat in his stomach. It tasted sour, not like the treasured wine that it was. His eyes burnt. How good it had felt to hold her. How good it had felt to be consumed by their passion. He had looked at her closely, and she seemed withdrawn but eager. How could this be?
He growled when a thought entered his mind. What if she now ran into Merrill's arms? He clearly had rejected her. It was for good reason. It was too much. He was overwhelmed, he simply wasn't ready, wasn't in a state to commit to Hawke like this. But if she went to Merrill, he wouldn't know what he'd do. I'd crush her heart, I would. He wasn't sure which one of the two he meant.
He drank himself into oblivion.
Merrill admired the workmanship of the carpenters Hawke had sent. She had been true to her word and sent her men to repair the roof. For all the good that did. Her house smelled musty and unpleasant from prolonged exposure to water. Then, so did every house in the alienage, in Lowtown, unless you were lucky like Gamlen and had a house that was elevated.
It could be worse though. She could be in Darktown. She had curiously approached the passageways leading there and had turned back. The stench of sewage was overwhelming. Supposedly some people had drowned in the flood as well, and their corpses were now floating around down there. It was all very sad.
The elf lay on her back on her bed, staring at a fixed patch of roof. No more rain drops to wake her up in the middle of the night, dripping on her nose. Such luxury. She shifted her weight, and winced. Her shoulders were bruised, five finger print sized bruises on each shoulder. It was a reminder of the pain of that day, a pain that would not go away.
And yet, she had never felt so alive.
She had been to the Hanged Man the previous day, and Varric told her the story of how they had killed Hadriana in a slaver cave on the coast. It was the first time in ages that Hawke hadn't asked her to come along. It was over. She had messed things up. The coast was clear for Fenris now. Things had been easier before she had stupidly developed feelings for Hawke, feelings that would not go away.
She heard a knock on her door and rose, walking on damp floorboards with her bare feet. A messenger boy was by the door, handing her a note. It had Hawke's seal. Merrill bit her bottom lip then quickly broke the seal, unbelieving eyes reading the words Hawke had sent her.
You were so right. I should not have pushed you away like I did. I was trying to do the right thing, and misjudged. I miss you. Forgive me? If you do, come find me at the mansion. Dinner's on me. - Hawke
Merrill felt ready to cry. She smiled all over her face. Hawke missed her. Hawke apologized and asked her to come back. She felt ready to burst with joy.
And yet...there was this part in her head that considered, calculatingly. Something must have happened with Fenris. Or what else could this 'You were so right' allude to?
It was almost like there were two Merrills. The first Merrill was overjoyed and happy, and only too eager to get to Hightown. The other Merrill carefully resealed Hawke's letter with some candle wax and the controlled use of a fire spell. Just a little trickle of heat. Fenris would not be able to tell. Besides, he would not be the one to break the seal, as he would need the messenger to read the message to him. She would have to find a messenger in Hightown to deliver the note straight to him. It was a gamble. If he showed up while Merrill and Hawke reunited, she would truly have won.
Fenris stared at the shards of the bottle of wine. As so often, he had smashed it into the wall once it was empty, in anger and resentment, of Danarius, his life, himself. This afternoon he stared at them, inhaled the sour scent of wine stains on the floor, felt little shards cut the bare soles of his feet. His life was a mess, because he kept destroying good things, perfect things, like this shapely bottle of excellent wine, or the future he could have had with Hawke. If only he hadn't been so scared of his emotions, scared of admitting weakness. Would he ever learn not to be a slave? He felt the imaginary collar tight on him as always, constricting his every breath and thought.
His destructive musings were interrupted by a loud knock on the front door. Fenris reached for his sword and slowly moved downstairs. He did not usually have visitors unless he specifically invited someone. Today, he had not invited anyone. On his way downstairs, he stepped into another shard, making him leave bloody footprints.
It was a messenger. When Fenris opened the door with drawn sword, he looked like he was about to wet himself. He stuttered, scared of the taller elf. "I...I h-have a message for Serah F-Fenris?" The whites in his eyes stood out starkly. He was no older than 12. He held the message up and Fenris saw the seal that Hawke used on her clothing and her manor gates. The elf frowned and then impatiently indicated himself.
"I am Fenris. Make it quick. Read." He snarled the words, bitterness washing over him that he could not read the message himself. He was a slave. Had been a slave. He knew not to read. He had been hiding this from everyone else, but somehow Merrill had found out. She liked to hold up books and notes and tomes they found on their errands, holding them out for the others to read, proffering them at him as if he was literate like the others. As if he wasn't a Tevinter slave whose only purpose had been to serve in menial labor.
The boy stumbled through the words, in his hurry to read them. Fenris let the words wash over him. You were so right. Yes, it had been too much, too fast. I should not have pushed you away like I did. She knew she should have given him time. I miss you. Forgive me? Forgive her? She should have to forgive him. His heart filled with hope. Maybe the shards of his life could be swept up. There was hope.
He glowered at the boy, but not before pressing a few coins in his hand. The messenger dashed away in great hurry. Fenris decided to go tend to the cuts on his feet and then prepare for his visit. For once he felt no anger but hope.
Hawke was anxious. The message had cost her a lot of courage, and many hours of deliberation. Was it the right decision to make? Right for herself. Her mother had chided her for being restless, telling her to stop pacing so much or she would wear out the costly rugs in the sitting room. She had smiled apologetically, like a good girl, then sat down at her writing desk.
The message was short and to the point. Honest. She had fallen in love with Merrill, her feelings for Fenris were just on the surface, and not as deep as her connection with the mage. As much as she liked him, there would always be a barrier between them, one that seemed impenetrable. She had tried, and failed, and hurt a good woman in the process.
Orana cleared her throat from the door. "Messere, dinner is prepared. Your mother isn't feeling well, so will not dine with you tonight. Your servants shall retire, as requested." The former slave looked scared and intimidated. It would take time until she fully realized that she was no longer a slave. For a moment Hawke felt overwhelmingly sad. The Tevinter magisters clearly broke their slaves, stripping any sense of their own identity away from them. She vowed to never stop trying to help them regain themselves, be it Orana or Fenris, or any other former Tevinter slave. Everyone deserved a chance.
Hawke's anxiety returned. Would Merrill even come? Or was she so bitter about their falling out that she would not wish to reconcile? She started pacing again, waiting. Her mother would scold her, but she was too restless to remain seated.
When Merrill finally stumbled her way into the sitting room, the elf's cheeks were flushed as if she had hurried here. She held a single, long-stemmed rose in her hands. "I am sorry. I am late, am I not? I hope I did not keep you waiting. I had...an adventurous time in Hightown. I tried to find the perfect flower for you. Did you know that you are not the only noble with a mabari? The Derons also have one. Guarding their gardens. So many pretty gardens in Hightown, but not as nice as yours. Uh, I had to flee from guards, I hope they won't trace me here." Her words were a torrent, a rambling wave of words to cover her own anxiety, Hawke was sure.
Hawke closed the distance between them. "It's alright, Merrill," she breathed. "I am so glad you came." She took the offered rose and then put it down on a table, before turning back to Merrill. "I was such a fool, Merrill. Forgiven me yet?" The elf laughed and threw her arms around Hawke's neck. It was the most natural thing in the world to lean down to her and kiss her.
Merrill felt herself wrapped in Hawke's strong arms. She was incandescent with warmth and joy. So this was what it felt like to be in love. This warm wave of emotion that she had felt when Hawke stood there in the middle of the room, her whole being lit like a bright candle when Merrill came in, joy and relief washing over her open features. Hawke carried all her feelings like an open book to read. What Merrill once found worthy of nothing but disdain, she now felt touching and heartwarming. Lovable.
She broke their kiss, gently nuzzling Hawke's nose. Merrill gently pushed her backwards to be seated in one of the armchairs of the sitting room. "Let me show you how much I have forgiven you. How much I love you, Hawke. Ma vhenan." She disrobed Hawke's top, opening the belt, then started kissing her, beginning at her throat, descending slowly. Hawke was nothing but responsive, shifting eagerly underneath her touch.
I hope he won't come. It's not necessary. She loves me. Merrill pushed up the hem of Hawke's skirt and kissed tremulous thighs, her smile never leaving her lips.
Fenris was surprised to find the foyer empty of everyone but the mabari. The dog sniffed him, but was familiar with his scent. He simply went back to sleep. The mansion seemed dark and silent to him. He peered into open doorways, pressed his ear against closed doors. He vaguely recalled that Hawke had a sitting room upstairs where she would entertain visitors or simply sit and read.
His palms were sweaty. On his way here he had wrecked his brain to find the right words to say, how he would explain that he was merely the product of his previous life, and that he was sorry about being so difficult to handle. It sounded weak and lame in his head, but it would have to do.
He hesitated by the door to the sitting room. He froze, his hand inches from the doorknob. Fenris heard Hawke. She sounded like she was in pain. Was she crying? Had he waited too long? With renewed energy he turned the door knob, pushing open the door. His gaze locked on Hawke, covering her eyes with an arm thrown over them, the other holding on to the armchair she was seated in for dear life. She moaned again, the same sound he had heard outside. His legs turned to water when he saw who kneeled before Hawke. Of course. Merrill lifted her head away from Hawke. She smiled, her eyes gleaming possessively. She licked her lips, like a cat that had just lapped up milk. How she smiled. He felt himself glow, the lyrium forced beneath his skin burning like fire, raging through him, filling his being with strong waves of pain. He wanted to scream.
Why did she stop? How could she stop? Hawke had never felt anything like these sensations before. Stars were blinking in and out of existence, bright pinpoints of light, the more she squeezed her eyes shut.
She let her arm fall, reaching for Merrill's hair. In the corner of her eye she saw blue light. Hawke gasped and sat upright, pushing the chair back with her feet. Fenris looked like a god come down to smite them. His eyes were full of rage and downright aggression. "Look at you two. Bitches in heat. Cruel and mocking. You are no different from my former master. You ridicule me. You request my presence, knowing what I would find." His voice was deeper, full of resentment. Just like he had sounded when he spoke to Hadriana. Maybe even more hurt.
"W-What request?" Hawke couldn't help but ask. Having him find them like this was the last thing she wanted. She looked down at Merrill who still kneeled and was taken aback by the smile on Merrill's face. She smiled, and like Fenris had said, her gaze was full of ridicule. She stared at him, her hands still resting on the sides of the armchair.
"You sent me a note. Dinner's on you. Dinner." Fenris balled his hand into a fist. When Merrill started to giggle, he turned on her and Hawke's heart filled with dread. Oh Merrill.
She couldn't help it, she had to giggle. Wasn't it funny? He had come for dinner, but it was Merrill who had already eaten it. Her. Merrill felt herself flush, and giggle. She had to press a hand over her mouth to stifle them.
She was losing her mind. Merrill shouldn't be enjoying his hatred so much, his absolute devastation. Any moment now he would reach her and kill her, with this strange power of his, reaching inside to crush her guts, twist her heart, end her. The hateful part of her was gloating, about the ultimate triumph and betrayal she had executed.
The part of her that was just a lonely girl in love was weeping in her head. Hawke came between them, blocking his path. "You know I would never do such a thing, Fenris. I would not have requested you here. I might be foolish, but I am not cruel. How foolish I am." She looked down at Merrill, with despair on her face. The elf was no longer smiling. Game over.
He believed her. Deep inside he knew that it was Merrill who had set this all up. It didn't change that mere days after they had consummated their love, mere days after he left her, Hawke had already found pleasure with another. From the looks and sounds of it, more pleasure than he had given her.
The power went out of him, and the lyrium glow dissipated. Much like his hope and happiness had dissipated the moment he had opened the door.
Wordlessly he turned to go, never looking back.
Hawke wanted to cry. She wanted to grab Merrill and shake her again, for all the good that would do. "How long have you worked on this? How long have you used me for a tool? You hate him, don't you? Do you hate me too?"
Merrill reached out, her hands circling Hawke's wrist, holding on. "I don't hate you, no no no. You must not think that. I love you, Hawke. I meant every word I said." She closed her eyes, her nails digging into Hawke's skin. "When I had nothing left in my life, all I could see was that hurting Fenris would make me feel better. I had lost my clan, lost Marethari's love, lost your friendship. Lost the chance of ever restoring the eluvian when he made you not give me the arulin'holm." She opened her eyes, looking wounded, tears spilling from long lashes. "Seeing him pay for my very own pain was the only thing that has kept me going since Sundermount. Until I fell in love with you."
It wasn't enough. Hawke shook her head at so much ignorance and ill-guided love. She pulled her hands free from Merrill's grasp. "You are obsessed, Merrill. Insane and driven. I cannot believe a single word you ever told me, after this betrayal. Go. This, I cannot forgive you. You have wronged the people in your life. Go, Merrill. Go back to Sundermount. Settle back into your clan. Be your Keeper's First." She turned her back on the elf, unable to stand the pain on her face any longer. It just made her heart bleed more than it already did. "Or go rot in your house in the alienage, trying to fix something of absolutely no significance to anyone but you."
With determination she headed into her bedroom, and returned, moments later. "Here, Merrill. Have your arulin'holm. Destroy yourself with your work. Don't destroy us others anymore." She dropped the bundle at her feet and then left the room, unable to bear Merrill's presence any longer.
I lost her, forever. Having the arulin'holm means nothing to me. Fen'harel, take me.
I lost her, forever. Curse feelings, and all the associated weakness. I will live for finding and killing Danarius. I will set myself truly free.
I lost her, forever. Why did I not see earlier and saved her from this path of destruction she was on? Why did I not see her pain? Now it's too late. But I will always worry for her. Maker, give me strength.