"Serah Hawke." Bodhan said softly, as to not bother her too much. "Your friend is here. She is waiting for you in the foyer."
Hawke dropped her feet on the floor lazily and forced herself into getting out of her bed. "Let's see who's next to try and thoroughly humiliate me. Will they ever just let me be?" she thought. As she was dragging herself down the stairs, Merrill exploded in a cascade of chuckles and silly questions. Hawke decided not to treat the mage too harshly, so she adorned her face with a welcoming smile.
"Merrill. I haven't seen you in a while. How are you faring?" Hawke swallowed a knot in her throat, flinching at the bitter taste in her mouth. She couldn't even remember when she ate last.
"Aye, Hawke, we haven't seen much of you at the Hanged Man for quite some time. Are you well? You look very pale, really." the elf examined her with curious, huge eyes, a sincere concern showing on her face.
"I'm fine, Merrill. For some reason, Varric has decided to torment me with his silly excuse for a good gossip… As it turns out, in his latest story, he has me hopelessly sobbing as the Qunari ships disappear in the distance. Only the white handkerchief is missing. He's got all else covered. Hearts destroyed, people drinking away their miserable lives, the works." Hawke joked, knowing she might not be able to withstand one more curious probing into the depths of her heart by her companions.
"So, the whole Arishok crisis is just his overactive immagination?" Merrill raised a brow. "Hawke, what's going on? Not that I wouldn't understand your fascination. As I said before, the Qunari are easy on the eyes. Even I miss those muscles glistening in the sun. Oh! I'm starting to sound like Isabela… I wonder what became of her. Do you think she submitted to the Qun, Hawke?" the little elf said, barely ever stopping for even one breath. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling again."
"Maraas imekari…" Hawke whispered, turning to face the warmth of the imposing fireplace in her living room. At her feet, her mabari was chasing rabbits in his sleep.
"What was that, Hawke?" Merril said, lightly touching the fabric of her sleeve.
"Nothing, Merrill. Varric is… himself, you know him. There was never…" she wanted to repeat the same excuse she had ready every time Varric pestered her, but she suddenly noticed how tired it sounded. "There was never a need for an intervention. The Qunari left, Kirkwall still stands, that's all that matters" she said, her eyes following the dance of the flames.
"Do YOU still stand, Hawke?" asked the elf, showing a level of insight Hawke never believed her capable of.
"No, Merrill." She spoke the words without thinking. "I'm tired. So tired." she realized.
Merrill sat down on the rug in front of the fireplace and tucked her legs beneath her. "What's happening to you, Hawke?" her eyes begged for a sincere answer.
"When he left, he took everything I cared for with him." Hawke confessed, still not sure what made her very soul unveil in front of the prying mage.
"Isabela?!" Merrill let out a cry of amazement.
"No, silly. His respect. His strength. His eyes. His voice… Himself." she said, and her chin lowered, in shame.
"Oh. Hawke, I'm sorry. I didn't know you loved him…" she said, a veil of sadness pushing her eyelids down.
A shiver went down Hawke's spine. She shook visibly, her knees slightly bending against her will before she had any chance to even try to regain her composure. "By the Maker, she's right. I do love him." she thought. She had lied to herself all this time. It's respect, camaraderie, the recognition of his formidable strength and intellect. He's a worthy rival, someone above the festering squaler of this city. Hey, on a good day, she'd even throw in some lust. But love? Unrequited and hopeless? That was out of the question. Until now. "Yeah, thanks Merrill" she thought and squinted her eyes. She felt nauseated and tucked her stomach beneath her forearms. "I do." she whispered. One last guilty confession. Oh, Kirkwall is going to enjoy this one!
"Hawke, why don't you go after him? You know, like in Varric's love stories." said Merrill in as warm a tone as she could possibly convey.
"He is the Arishok of the Qunari! He has no use for a beat down, hopeless wreck like me! He probably has a mate, a kossith woman, not a puny human like me. I might've gained his respect in a land whose people and customs utterly disgusted him, but on Par Vollen, I stand no chance. Even here, he never led me to believe…". She stopped. She felt naked and vulnerable. For a moment, she questioned her sanity, since the innocent elf mage was the last person she would've normally confided in.
"Hawke, I doubt that you being a human was what stopped him." Merril tried.
"What do you mean?" Hawke turned to face her, somehow anticipating that Merrill will shine some akward, totally irrational and even insane light on the issue… Something that would make perfect sense.
"You're no more human than he is." the mage threw her arms out.
"Explain" demanded Hawke, towering above the little elf, suddenly feeling the same thrill of dominance that she imagined the Arishok felt every time they spoke.
"He is the Arishok. He's expected to model the Qun for all his people, especially while in a foreign land. If he falls, they all fall. All that are with him, at least. You are - and were even before you saved the city, a hero. A fighter. A problem solver. A diplomat. A business first type of person. Not human. Certainly not a woman."
Two huge tears rolled down Hawke's cheeks. Inspite of her fear, her reluctance, her lust, even, she fought with herself to never show him any weakness. And every time she restrained herself she knew, in her heart, that his respect for her grew. But she did it at the expense of all the bits and pieces of her heart that she now struggled to gather. She would never feel whole again. Not without showing him who she really was. This much she was certain of.