Merrill had a lot of thinking to do after that.
She sat down right there in the dark of the clinic with Fenris sleeping fitfully on the other side of the room, and she thought.
She was thinking of what the Keeper had always said about lost history and things that have been forgotten. That they were never really gone. All of the terrible and beautiful story of the elves had been passed down in the blood, mother to daughter, even when the words to describe it had been long forgotten. They would always be carried with them, as long as there were still elves, as long as they lived.
Her Keeper spoke the story in whatever words remained. When she told it you remembered. You knew this story; it was in your blood, your bones. It was like a dream you had, that all your family and friends had, one that would dissolve like smoke whenever you tried to speak of it. The Keeper gave you a part of that back.
It was never quite enough, for Merrill, to have only a part. She wanted the whole, all of it. She wanted it clear and complete and open to everyone. Her Keeper only smiled and said it was with them already, always. She said Merrill didn't want the story, really – she wanted to bring back the past. And the past was never coming back. That was not the way of the world.
(And Merrill thought, resentfully, that it would certainly never come back if nobody tried to restore it.)
Her Keeper said there was no need to bargain with the dark to bring out the light. That was the fast way; it was not the better way. Merrill had always thought that if she was bargaining with her own soul, if she was willing, it would be worth it. Even if everyone she ever loved called her a monster. She would happily sacrifice her soul to restore the People to glory. The only cost was to herself, and it was her choice.
But the Dalish are a family, and a cost to one of them would be paid by them all. This was what the Keeper believed. The Keeper, who loved her like a mother, and did not believe the possibility of recovering their history was worth the cost of Merrill's soul.
Merrill still did not agree. But she could understand it now, and grieve.
The shape of her grief was still revealing itself to her; it was huge, and it appeared at the strangest moments, in the strangest places. It settled over her now like a dark cloak and Merrill longed for her Keeper with all of her heart. Without her she was alone in the world. She had thought she was alone before, but it was not until the Keeper was gone forever that she realized she had always had her.
This was her only comfort in these moments: the Keeper had loved her. She knew she was going to her death in Merrill's place, and she didn't blame Merrill at all. She loved her. She loved her.
And this was what gave her the idea.
A way to help. Not a fix, because there was no easy way to fix a broken soul, and it was not her place to try. A gift, for Fenris. One to make up for her meddling. A gift for a fellow elf whose own history had been torn away from him, on top of every other crime that had befallen the elves in the heritage they shared.
It was a Keeper's job to remember.
Of course, Merrill would never be a Keeper, now.
But maybe she could still do it just this once.
Merrill descended into the dark places in Fenris's mind, below his remembered life. It was like descending to the bottom of the sea, where the pressure was heavy and the water was murky and thick. There were so many things concealed here. An entire person was concealed here, with a life of his own.
It would be too much to release it all at once. An entire other life would be too overwhelming, his mind could splinter under the strain.
Merrill hunted through memories like baubles buried in the sand, tied together like a net. Once she freed one the other ones would float up eventually, hopefully slowly and easily managed. She knew what was most important, something that may ground him and give him strength. She would know when she found it, and she would set it free.
Suddenly Merrill was being shaken out of her spell-weaving by a panicked voice.
"What's happening? What are you doing? Merrill!"
Hawke. Hawke hysterical, frantic.
"What are you doing to him? STOP!"
Merrill opened her eyes and smiled kindly on her. "It's okay. Really it is."
Hawke's eyes darted between the elf on the bed, enveloped in Merrill's green-tinged magic, and the elf in front of her, blithely calm.
"What have you done, Merrill?" she asked in a hard voice.
"I was trying to help him remember. And I think it worked… I think…"
Hawke slapped her. Hard.
Merrill fell back and stared dazedly at the angry human. All of her magic flickered and died instantly.
"I was only trying to help—"
"How dare you. How DARE you. Do you know what it means to use that magic on someone without their consent? On FENRIS?"
"But he needs this. He needs her. Just like I needed—"
"You horrible little twit! When has your meddling ever lead to something good? You destroy everything you touch!"
A groan emitted from the bed, followed by a hoarse and pleading voice. "Hawke?"
Hawke was up in a moment, rushing to his side. Fenris was holding his head and rocking forward, curling up, with bewildered anguish on his face. Hawke sat on the bed next to him and gathered him up into her arms and he leaned into her, buried his face in her shoulder and Hawke glared furiously at Merrill.
"If you've damaged him… I will end you," she hissed. She meant it, too.
"It's all right," Merrill repeated, a little forlornly. "I found her."
"Shut up!" Hawke felt the love of her life shaking in her arms and she wanted to kill Merrill for this, for hurting him. Merrill could see it in her pretty blue eyes and the fierce protectiveness with which she held onto Fenris, who would not be easy to hold. She had never looked more beautiful.
He pushed against her, trying to speak. Trying to tell her. An avalanche of memories were unlocking in his mind and he couldn't speak them.
"What is it?" Hawke asked him tenderly.
Merrill's eyes met his and she knew what he wanted.
Tell her. Tell me. Make this make sense.
Finally, it was her turn to tell the story of the lost past.
"I found her. I found his mother."
Hawke's eyes widened. "What?"
"She was always there. The memories were just buried a bit, under all the bad things."
Fenris leaned into her again, clinging to her tightly.
Merrill told them everything.
She was young. She was really, really young, younger than me and younger than I was when you met me. And she was in love.
They sent him away, the man she loved. To another master. They did that a lot. The Imperium didn't like relationships between the slaves unless they picked them out themselves, and they were not permitted to marry. She never saw him again.
But she had a baby. They let her keep him and she raised him joyfully. He was the light of her life. Leto. The only anything in all the world that truly belonged to her. She had nothing else but drudgery and endless labor, but she had him. Everything he did, every moment they had together, was a delight. In all of the darkness of her life she had her son, and whenever she was with him, she was happy.
He was born out of love, and wanted, so wanted. Unlike his sister. Varania, who was not planned for, and who looked like her Master.
He — you — adored your mother, and your sister, and you worked hard to set them free.
But what your mother really wanted more than anything, what she prayed for, was for her children and her children's children not to be slaves. And that came true, Fenris. Whatever else became of her, her greatest wish was granted. You made it come true. You even spared your sister when she betrayed you, and now you are both free. Exactly as she would have wanted. She would be so happy.
You look like her, Fenris. You have her nose, the way it's kind of flat at the top, and her green eyes, and her chin. All of your face, really, except for your black hair and eyebrows, which looked like your father's. You're tall and strong like he was - she used to say that all the time, when you were older. She said you had the same walk, and she would smile when she said it, like it was a wonderful thing you did for her, something to remind her of her lost love.
You got other things from her too, Fenris: kindness, devotion, courage. She was a gentle woman who put on a brave face for her children, and she taught you everything you truly are.
I've spent a lot of time looking for lost things. But maybe what's lost is not as important as what remains. You might have lost everything else, when they took your memories, but some of these things you kept. Your determination. Your humor. Your ability to love another wholly and completely — that you most certainly didn't learn in Tevinter, and they couldn't take that away.
In that way, she is still with you. Always with you. And maybe in the dark times, you can remember now that you had a mother who loved you with all her heart. Maybe that will help. I hope so.
Merrill stopped talking and bowed her head. Maybe she had done wrongly again. She didn't know anymore. But what's done was done, and there was nothing more for her to do.
Hawke and Fenris were in each other's arms. Hawke's auburn curls surrounded them both and she held him close. She babbled softly what sounded like nonsense words and tears streamed down her cheeks. Merrill couldn't see Fenris at all except for his arms around her sides, holding tight.
Merrill left quietly, unimportant and forgotten.
Everything was up to them now.