xxx H xxx

Just a few hours later I start from a light doze, awakened by a strange sound. I cast my gaze about, looking for the source, until Merrill whimpers fretfully in her sleep and I understand that I must have been awakened by her cry. She is curled into a protective ball, legs drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around her shoulders. She is breathing fast, almost panting, and I realise she is trapped in a nightmare. My throat closes up and I put my hand on her arm to try and shake her awake, but she struggles without waking, crying out in wordless distress. I get up and kneel next to her on the bed, still holding her arm as she thrashes.

"Merrill. Merrill! Wake up, it's just a dream. I'm here. You're safe." I pull her upright, trying to wake her. Her fist flails out and catches me across the cheek, but I ignore the sting and grasp her gently but firmly by the shoulders, shaking her. "Wake up." Her eyes snap open and she gasps, dragging in deep breaths, looking so bewildered and terrified I want to take her in my arms, hold her tight and never let go. But I don't want to scare her, she's been through so much. Her green eyes are darting wildly around the room without recognition; I can see she is not yet fully awake, still caught in a terrible fusion of dream and memory.

"Merrill, look at me. You're safe now, it's over. You're safe," I repeat, gazing intently into her eyes. She focuses on me and falls still, eyes searching my face, then she suddenly leans forward and presses herself hard against me, her arms clutching so tight around me I feel like my ribs might shatter under the pressure. She starts to sob brokenly into my chest, and my heart shatters instead. I hold her as close as I dare, rubbing her back gently with one hand and cradling the back of her head with the other. "Shh, it's alright now, I promise."

I let her cry herself out, speaking softly to her, letting her know I am here for her, just like I did back in that alley. It takes her a while, but after a time her tears slow, and then stop, and apart from the occasional shuddering intake of breath, she is still. I hold her and keep stroking her back until she relaxes her hold on me, slowly sitting up to look into my face.

"Why are you always so nice to me?" Her unexpected question catches me off-guard, and for just a moment I can't think of a single thing to say to her; it just seems so obvious to me I never thought to put it into words. I manage to find some, though, and answer her quickly.

"Because you're you, and you deserve it," I say, lightly tapping a playful fingertip on the end of her nose. She wrinkles it involuntarily, adorably, and I suddenly have to work very hard not to lean over and kiss her fiercely. She frowns suddenly, and tilts her head to the side, looking at me intently. Oh, Andraste, did she see it in my eyes? Did I scare her?

"What's the matter? Have I got something on my face?" I joke weakly.

"You have a bruise...on your cheek, there. That wasn't there before..." Her eyes open wide in horrified realisation. "Mythal, did I hit you? I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry Hawke!" she cries tearfully, her face crumpling.

I smile, and touch my fingertips briefly to her cheek to the bruise still visible under her delicate skin. "I know, Merrill, it's alright. Look, now we match."

She chuckles, a little wetly. "How do you do that? You say something funny or clever and suddenly everything's all right again."

I give a little shrug. "It's a gift."

She stares at me for a moment, something unreadable in her wide green eyes, then she leans forward and hugs me again.

"You are a gift. You came. I called for you and you came. Ma serannas, ma vh...lethallan."

I wonder what she had been going to call me.

"It's hours til sunrise yet, you should try and rest." I try to pull away, to let her lie back down, but she just holds tighter, so I prop up the pillow against the wall and lie back into a half-sitting position, pulling her with me. She lays her head down, cheek pillowed on my breast and closes her eyes. I guess she feels safer this way. I pull the blanket over her and tuck it in around her, but when I try to tuck it in between us she takes the edge of the blanket out of my hands and throws it over me, covering us both.

"It's much colder now, you should have some blanket too," she says matter-of-factly.

"Fair enough. Thank you." She shifts beneath the blanket, snuggling her little body against mine, blissfully unaware of the sensations and emotions she is stirring within me. Oh, Maker, give me strength. Bloody Void.

"You're welcome, Hawke." Her breathing slows and deepens, and she slips into a dreamless slumber as I weave a wordless spell about her, veiling her awareness of the Fade and its inhabitants completely. No nightmare will touch her, now, not tonight; a small trick I taught myself while caring for a younger brother and sister, so long ago. I gaze down at her sleeping face, so innocent, so breathtakingly beautiful. There'll be no rest for me tonight, that's for damn sure.

As I watch her sleep, my mind takes me back to the alley where I found her surrounded by that pack of vile beasts; watching, waiting, laughing. I remember my heart leaping into my throat as I saw her hurt and helpless on the ground, remember the burning rage that filled me as I snarled my fury at her remaining assailants, my blade dripping with the blood of their felled companions: "Go ahead. Try me. I want to kill you. Your heartbeats are numbered. Consider yourselves the walking dead."

It was no idle threat.

I capture the image in my mind and hold it still. I see their faces, studying them one by one, and I memorise them. I can't let this happen again; to Merrill, or to anyone else. I doubt this was the first time they did such a thing; being thwarted this time won't prevent scum like that from doing it again. I know Aveline would probably say that it doesn't justify murder, but I don't care. I just don't. Merrill will never have to see their faces again; I'll make sure of that.

Next moonrise, I think coldly, tightening my hold on the precious elven girl sleeping peacefully in my arms, laying my cheek tenderly against the top of her head:

I am going to go hunting.