So, here we go, Merrill's mirror appears in some of its glory. I'm going away to Thailand to teach English to schoolkids for a month (no, really) so while I intend to keep writing in my downtime, it will probably be slower going during that time, and I won't have regular access to the Internet. So I wanted to give you something a little sweet, here. I hope you like it, because I do. I'll do my best to keep writing and move the story along, once I get over the jetlag/culture shock. Wish me luck!

xxx H xxx

Well. I don't know what I expected Merrill to show me when she dragged me so impatiently into her bedroom, but it certainly wasn't this. She always manages to surprise me. I should really stop being surprised by that, I suppose.

She stands with her back to me in the corner of the small room, staring up the huge monstrosity taking up half the back wall. I can't see her face, but her voice is a mixture of awe, elation, and the faintest touch of pride as she speaks without turning her head, her gaze firmly fixed on the... whatever it is. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

I step up behind her to examine the thing. It appears to be some sort of large mirror, vaguely resembling the body-length looking glasses I've seen in the homes of the more vain and conceited high-born ladies. Not something I would ever have expected to see in Merrill's home. Although, on closer inspection, I'm not at all sure that that's what it actually is. The carved, wooden supporting frame that twists and curls about the long rectangle of glass at its centre is elaborate enough to grace the dressing-room of even the most narcissistic noble, but the mirror piece itself is dull, clouded and cracked in several places. It's certainly impressive though, if only for the sheer size of it, but I don't think I'd describe a piece of furniture such as this as 'beautiful'. There are much lovelier things far more deserving of the word. I glance down at Merrill's exquisite features, watching as she gazes raptly at the mirror, looking utterly captivated. Utterly captivating. I can't help myself, and neither can I keep the husky tone from my voice or the admiring smile from my lips as I answer her.

"It's not nearly as pretty as you are."

Her sudden movement startles me as she turns quickly to look up into my face, her eyes wide as they search mine with a look of surprise, but also, oddly, recognition. And wonder, almost. I suppress the urge to rub the back of my neck, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and uncertain. The way she's looking at me; it's like I've done something... amazing, something she didn't think was possible, but that she was also half expecting, somehow. I can't imagine what I could've done to cause this unusual reaction. Was it something I said?

I suddenly realise just how close I'm standing to her; close enough to feel the warmth of her body, to catch her sweet scent. She smiles a little and opens her mouth to say something, just as I clear my throat nervously to dispel my discomfort. Too late, I notice her about to speak, but I can't stop myself, and she falters, falling silent at my unintentional interruption. She bites her bottom lip, lowering her head, and I take a small step back, turning to re-examine the mirror, trying to break the odd tension that suddenly seems to have sprung up between us.

"Well, of all the giant mirrors in your house, Merrill, this is easily the nicest."

I keep my eyes fixed on the mirror, trying to collect myself and conceal my confusion. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her shoulders drop, her face suddenly downcast, or maybe frustrated as she stares at the floor for a moment. Maker, what's going on? I feel like there's something very important that I'm missing here, but I have no idea what it could be. I hate seeing her look so despondent, especially since it seems to be because of me, somehow. Say something, quickly; take her attention away from whatever it is that's bothering her.

I turn to give her a small grin, hoping that a humorous quip might save the day. Assuming I can manage one. Maybe a small, weak one, at least. "Although, I don't think it quite understands what mirrors are supposed to do. Shouldn't it reflect the room?"

She lifts her head and gives me an amused little smile, successfully distracted by my question. "No. It's not that sort of mirror."

I wait for more, but she seems content to stay quiet, just watching me with that little smile. Why is she looking at me like that? I'm really not sure what's happening. Doesn't she... doesn't she want to ask me about something? Her eyes are shining in the candlelight; the dancing flames highlighting the rosy tint along her delicate cheekbones... No. Stop staring, idiot. Focus. She was telling me about her mirror. "Does this have something to do with what you've been doing with your time? Is it an elven artefact?"

She blinks at me a few times, before finally responding, as though it took her a moment to register my question. "Oh. Yes. I've spent the last few years restoring this. Two of my clan stumbled across it in a ruin, in the Brecilian Forest. It's called an eluvian."

"What's an eluvian?" I ask her when no further information is forthcoming. "What does it do?"

Her voice, when she answers, is measured, hushed, and full of wonder, like a storyteller; the way it always is whenever she speaks of elven history. "Long ago, the elves had a kingdom. An empire that covered Thedas. And every city had an eluvian. The mirrors let them communicate across their empire." She frowns, scratching at her head a little as she stares at the mirror, and her voice resumes its normal bouncing pace and lyrical lilt, though now she sounds a little sad. "But I don't know how, exactly. My people have lost so much. We know almost nothing of the days before Arlathan. This..." She indicates the eluvian before us with a small, graceful wave of her hand. "This is a piece of our history. And from what Mahariel told me about it, I believe it stores memories, too. The knowledge of the ancient elves. Mahariel said that Tamlen saw things in the mirror, before..." She trails off, gazing at the mirror with a small troubled frown.

I study her face, concerned by the shadow behind her eyes. Whatever she's thinking of, the memory of it can't be pleasant. Something terrible must have happened to these clan mates of hers. "Before what?" I ask gently. She wants to talk about it, I can tell. She just needs a little help.

"Well... I don't know what happened, exactly; I wasn't there, not when they found the mirror. But Mahariel said... she said that Tamlen touched the mirror, and it... rippled." Merrill lifts a hand slowly towards the mirror. There's a strange feeling in the air, and a faint note that strengthens as her hand draws closer to the surface of the glass. I feel a sudden strange urge to pull her back, to snatch her away from the mirror, and I almost reach out to grab her. But she drops her hand without touching the glass, and I sigh inwardly with relief, and then pause, wondering at my strange unconscious reaction. I feel a little foolish about it, to be honest. What could there be to fear from a mirror? But that... that odd noise, that note, almost on the edge of hearing. Where have I heard that before? I shake my head a little to clear it, and realise that Merrill is still talking. I quickly turn my attention back to her, hoping I haven't missed too much.

"...and then she said she felt some sort of force coming from the mirror, like it was trying to reach out to them, but she blacked out. She didn't see where Tamlen went. A Grey Warden found her, and brought her back to the clan." Her expression crumples a little, though she tries to hide it. But she doesn't quite manage to keep the sadness from her voice as she continues. "We never found Tamlen. And Mahariel came back... poisoned by the eluvian. Sick from just being near it. We went back and found the mirror, but a Grey Warden came, and he - he broke it." Her brows draw together furiously at the memory. She's lovely when she's angry. "He smashed it into pieces. The Grey Warden told the Keeper the mirror was dangerous, to warn us away from it. But the eluvian is a part of our heritage. I couldn't just forget it." She returns her gaze to her eluvian, a small, proud smile curving the corners of her mouth."I went back, later. I found a shard of the mirror, and I kept it. I've been trying to fix it, here; I... found a way to join the broken piece to ordinary glass, trying to make it whole again." She fiddles unconsciously with the bandage across her palm.

I feel my brows lift as something suddenly clicks into place. That eerie, haunting sound that seemed to come from the mirror... I remember; I have heard it once before. "The day we met, on Sundermount... is that what you were doing? You were looking at your eluvian shard, weren't you? And that's what that strange noise was."

"Oh!" She rubs a hand through her hair, turning to look at me a little anxiously, I think. "Um... yes. I was."

"You looked so guilty when I asked you about it!" I laugh fondly, remembering her jittery nervousness that day. That wonderful day. "No wonder you were rambling so much."

She gives me a little half smile, tilting her head. "It's a wonder you ever agreed to take me home with you."

I'd take you home with me anytime. I risk a teasing smile. "Oh, I'd do it again, in a heartbeat. Who could be so heartless as to resist those big, pleading eyes?"

She smiles again, bashfully, but that look is back in her eyes, that knowing awe, mingled with... I would have said hope, but I can't fathom why. Maker, I don't know what's happening today. First Isabela starts behaving towards me like a cat in heat, and now Merrill is acting strangely, as well. Not in the same way as Isabela, of course, but oddly enough for her that I am beginning to grow seriously concerned. Of course, there's always the possibility that I'm imagining things and just jumping at shadows. Perhaps there's something in the water. Or perhaps that insanity-gas affected us a little more strongly than we thought.

I'm not getting anywhere trying to puzzle it out now. Maybe I should just concentrate on whatever Merrill is trying to tell me about. "So, why did the Grey Warden break the mirror?" I ask, trying to get our conversation back on track.

Her smile vanishes instantly, replaced by that same troubled frown she wore earlier. "He said it was corrupted, that it was what made Mahariel sick and that Tamlen would have been tainted too, with... with the blight corruption. That he was probably taken by the Darkspawn, if not dead already."

I stare at her in shock. I can't believe what I just heard. "The... the blight corruption? This thing has the taint? Merrill-"

"It's safe, Hawke," she assures me quickly. "I know how you must feel, but there's no need to be concerned. Really."

I bite back my anxious words, and relent. If she says it's safe... I summon my power and examine the mirror carefully. I can feel something, some echo of old magic from the mirror, perhaps... but no taint, no shadow of darkness, at least, not as far as I can detect. She must be right. I release my mana and turn to her. She is watching me quietly, waiting for me to finish my inspection with an apprehensive look in her eyes. She seems to be very anxious about what my reaction will be. Small wonder, from what she's told me about this thing so far. A thought occurs to me, suddenly, and I look at the mirror and then back to her, catching and holding her eyes. "This thing is what made the Keeper send you away, isn't it?" I ask her gently.

She nods sadly and looks down, hugging herself. "The Keeper wanted me to destroy the fragment I kept. She said our ancestors meant it to be forgotten. But it's a Keeper's place to remember. Even the dangerous things. We argued... I left." Her hands drop down to her sides, and her fists ball with the same anger that laces her voice as she looks back up at me. "She's wrong!" Merrill declares fiercely, her eyes almost giving off sparks with the strength of her conviction. "This mirror could teach us so much about who we once were!"

I think I can see why this artefact is so important to her. The knowledge she could reclaim from it would certainly be invaluable to her people, assuming she's right about what an eluvian does. If this is what she needs help with somehow, I can't see the harm in helping her. It seems a worthy thing to do, although... I can't help but feel more than a little worried by what she said about the mirror making her clan mates sick, or worse. "So... what did happen to your clan members? You said Tamlen was lost. Did Mahariel recover?"

"She did, I think," Merrill answers uncertainly, and then turns back to the mirror, raking a hand through her hair. "The human - the Warden, I mean, Duncan, I think his name was - he said she had the taint, and that only the Grey Wardens had a cure. He promised he could cure her, but only if she went with him." She sounds so sad. "She didn't want to go, but the Keeper told her she had a duty to help against the blight, if she could. Marethari's magic could keep the sickness at bay, but not forever. She said that Mahariel would die without the cure the Grey Warden offered, and told her to go with him, to have a chance at life. He took her away, and then the clan came here to Kirkwall, all the way across the sea, and... I'll probably never see her again."

She swallows, and looks down, blinking fast as though to ward off tears. Maker. I step up behind her and place a gentle hand on her shoulder, offering wordless solace. She glances at my hand in surprise, and then looks back and up at me with a tremulous, grateful smile. She reaches up and rests her hand on mine briefly, and then grasps it firmly, lifting my hand from her shoulder and pulling my arm around her from behind. I... well... if she wants a hug, I'm happy to oblige. I draw her closer, my front against her back, and wrap my other arm about her middle. She leans back against me, resting her little hands delicately on my forearm, and gives a small, contented sort of sigh. More odd behaviour. Not that I mind, though. I'm glad I could make her feel better. She's so warm...

"The cure must have worked for her, though," she continues suddenly, her eyes fixed on the eluvian before her. "The Keeper said she lead the armies in the battle against the Archdemon."

Wait, what? I release her in shock, and she turns to look at me questioningly, a confused look on her face. I blink at her, still dazed by her revelation. She's surprised me yet again. My mind races excitedly, and I take a breath to collect myself before I start blurting unintelligible questions at her. Be calm. If it was pleasant for her to talk about, she would have mentioned it before, surely.

"I remember... when we met, you told me a Warden took one of your Hunters away. This Mahariel... she's the one who slew the Archdemon? You knew the Hero of Ferelden!" She nods hesitantly, and I breathe out in amazement. "That's... incredible! But then, why haven't you told me about it before now?"

She lifts one shoulder in a shrug and looks away. "I... I suppose I didn't want to talk about it. It's hard to think about her, sometimes. But yes, I knew her. We grew up together. Her father was killed by huma- ... um... by bandits... before she was born; her mother... died... soon after giving birth to her, and I was given to the Sabrae as a small child. The clan shared the raising of us both."

I feel a frown of confusion cross my features at her words. "What do you mean, you were 'given' to the Sabrae clan?"

"I..." She falters, and then sits on her small bed, looking up at me with wide eyes. "You must understand, Hawke. If a clan is in need of something, when we meet at an Arlathvhen, a gathering of the People, they will ask the other clans for help. The Dalish clans share everything with each other; stories, knowledge, artefacts." She pauses for a moment, biting her lip, and then takes a deep breath. "Even magic. Every clan must have a Keeper, and every Keeper must be a mage. But children born with magical talent are not as common amongst the People as they once were."

"Yes. You said that too," I remember aloud, nodding slowly. I don't know if I'm going to like where this conversation is going. "You said all elves once had the gift, but not anymore."

"According to our stories, at least. Anyway..." Merrill looks down at her hands, clasping them in her lap. "Keeper Marethari needed a First, to train in the old ways and to lead the Sabrae clan, once she passed. I was born into the Alerion clan, in Nevarra. They already had several mages, but the Sabrae had none, besides the Keeper. When the clans met, I was given to Marethari to be trained." She gazes at up me beseechingly, meeting my appalled expression with pleading eyes, silently asking me to understand. I don't know if I can, it just sounds so terrible, passing children around like items for trade.

I sit close beside her on the bed, holding her wide-eyed gaze with concern. "You were taken from your family? Oh, Merrill..." By the Maker, I had no idea. I thought perhaps her parents were dead, since she never talks about them, and I didn't like to ask. But this... She never said anything to me. "But... what about your mother and father? Surely they didn't want to lose you?"

She drops her gaze again, twisting her fingers together. "I... I don't remember much about it. I was only four. I know that they were asked. I wasn't just stolen from them. But, Hawke..." She raises her head, her eyes now ablaze with the fierce pride of her people. "The Dalish have a duty to help one other. It's what we do, what we must do, for the clans to survive. And it would have been an honour for my parents, to know that I was to be a Keeper, one day. I'm sure it was not an easy choice for them, but they made the best decision. They did, really."

Four years old. Just a little child. Maker preserve us. I take a moment to organise my thoughts, to try to process what I've heard. "I'm... I'm not sure how to feel about that. Separating you from your parents... you were so young. It doesn't seem right."

Merrill considers my words for a moment, before nodding gently, once. There's an audible tremor in her voice when she answers me; "No. It isn't, not really. But it was needed."

"Have you... have you seen them at all, since then?" I ask her hesitantly.

She shakes her head. "No. It's too dangerous for the clans to meet often. We only gather together at the Arlathvhen meetings, every ten years. The last Arlathvhen came when I was fourteen, but there was some sort of trouble in Nevarra, and the Alerion did not come. The next meeting of the clans should be in a few years. Perhaps then... that is, if they will allow me to attend, without... without a clan."

The pain and misery in her voice stills my heart, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders in sympathy. She leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder.

"Of course they'll let you, Merrill." I reassure her, giving her a gentle squeeze. "And who knows, maybe you'll even see Mahariel again."

She sighs softly. "Maybe you're right, Hawke. I hope you are. I would like that, very much."

There is such sadness in her voice when she speaks of her lost clan mate. Such longing. I'm sure it's none of my business, but...

"Is she... special to you?" My voice comes out quieter than I intended, likely a product of my anxiety about what her answer will be. She sits up at my tentative question, turning to look into my face with a small frown, studying me intently, and I curse myself. Maybe I've crossed a line, asking her that. Maybe it was too personal. I shouldn't have asked.

"She was my friend," she answers eventually. Friend. It's foolish of me, really, but Maker, am I glad to hear that. "Probably the only real friend I had, back then. Being the Keeper's First, I didn't have a lot of time to spend with the others, even as a small child, and so I wasn't... very good with people. I never learned how to be, I suppose. But it didn't seem to bother Mahariel. She always made time for me, even after she and Tamlen started courting." She lowers her eyes sadly. "I miss her."

I touch her hand gently, my fingers brushing against the rough bandage around her palm. "I'm sorry. It sounds like she was a wonderful friend to have. But it was important, what she did. She ended the Blight, and saved us all. She did the Dalish proud."

"She did, at that." She falls silent, gazing at the eluvian with her bottom lip caught thoughtfully between her teeth, slowly causing it to turn a deep, enticing red... and I'm staring at her again. I look away quickly before she catches me, and follow the direction of her gaze to the eluvian towering imposingly over us. I should really ask her more about it. This is why she wants me here, after all, isn't it?

"So this eluvian needs to be fixed completely before you can use it to help your people, right? To reclaim the knowledge and memories of your ancestors?"

She nods, her eyes still roaming over the mirror contemplatively. "Yes. Well, it's what I want to do with it now, at least." She pulls her gaze away to look across at me. "When I first started working on it, I wanted to use it to help my friends. Mahariel was so distraught when Tamlen disappeared, and she was taken away before she could look for him properly. I thought if I fixed the eluvian, I could use it to find him for her. But it's been so long. The clan gave up, and moved on... Tamlen must be long gone by now." She shakes her head sadly, returning her gaze to her mirror. "Anyway. I know I can use the eluvian to help my people recover what we've lost. There must be so much knowledge of the ancient Elvhen inside it. I just need to get it working."

I'm glad she trusted me with this, at last. Although admittedly, I'm a little concerned about the potential threat this thing may still pose. I still can't feel any taint resonating from it, but that doesn't mean I should cast all caution aside; after all, the mirror only tainted Merrill's clan mates before it was broken. Perhaps it is simply lying dormant until Merrill succeeds in repairing it. I look at her, considering whether or not to voice my concerns, and then decide not to. She knows more about it than I do, after all, and she's come to me for help, not an interrogation. "I'm sure you wouldn't show something this dangerous to just anyone," I begin, intending to offer my assistance with whatever she needs, but she interrupts me, jumping up from the bed suddenly and moving to stand with her back to the eluvian, almost protectively, as though I might leap forward and smash it without any provocation.

"It's not dangerous, I promise!" Merrill says earnestly, waving her arms for emphasis. I open my mouth to reassure her but she doesn't seem to notice, her words tumbling over one another as they leap frantically through her lips. "I fixed it, or-or tried to. With blood magic. The mirror won't hurt anyone. But... it doesn't work. I've tried everything, and I think it's because it needs to be finished with a special tool." She pauses briefly, as though waiting for my denial, or objections, or lectures. But I don't have anything to say; I just watch her, waiting for her to tell me what she needs. "An arulin'holm," she continues after a moment, giving me what I assume to be the elven name for this special tool she mentioned. "And my clan has one. It's been in their hands for generations..."

Ah. So this is what she's after. I give her a wry grin. "I hear a 'but' coming," I say, and then turn my grin into an understanding smile. I know why she doesn't want to go and ask for this tool by herself. "You're afraid to face Keeper Marethari again, aren't you?"

She nods her head apprehensively. "I can't go back there alone. You have no idea. The Keeper... I can't talk to her, we fight, or talk circles around each other. She has a disappointed frown that turns your bones to jelly! Please help me?" She stares up at me with those big green eyes, practically begging for my help. "You will, won't you?"

I doubt I could say no to her, even if I wanted to. Especially now that she's using that 'you kicked my puppy' voice again. And those sorrowful, pleading eyes. "I'll go with you, of course I will. We can go tomorrow, if you like."

Merrill sighs with profound relief, grasping both of my hands in hers. "Ma serannas!" she says, smiling up at me joyfully. "I knew if anyone would understand, you would. I'll find some way to repay you, I promise!"

Will you, now? "Oh, I'm sure I could think of some way for you to thank me." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I cringe inwardly, hoping she won't notice the rough edge to my voice.

"Well, of course you could," she says, a small, secretive smile appearing on her face, accompanied by a rather charming blush. She glances down at our intertwined hands for a moment, then takes a deep breath and looks up at me shyly though her eyelashes. "If... If you ask me nicely, I might just do it."

I blink in surprise. I've never heard her use that tone before. Her voice sounded... a little throaty, like mine did, just now, although that was because I was... well, alright, I was flirting a little, but she... no, she can't have been, can she? Where would she have learned that? I'm imagining things again, that must be it. Or it's just wishful thinking.

Even so, my mouth curves in a half-smile as I watch the warm blush spreading across her cheeks. "Well, then, as soon as something comes to me, I'll let you know," I tease gently, unable to resist.

Her blush deepens, but she holds my gaze steadily, and her smile widens a little. Her left hand shifts in mine, and the rough cotton bandage around her palm grazes my fingers. I look down at her hand suddenly, frowning as I recall what she said about fixing the mirror with blood magic. If restoring this mirror is all she needs it for, I suppose I can accept it. At least, I can refrain from lecturing her about it. I wish there was another way for her to do this, but I don't have any ideas. I still can't say I'm comfortable with it, though.

I take her wounded hand in both of mine, turning it over and working at the tight knot. She doesn't try to pull away; she stands still, letting me unwind the blood-soaked bandage carefully. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to hold back a gasp when the bandage finally falls away, exposing the fresh series of deep cuts running the length of her palm. Maker's mercy. I glance up at her, distressed, and she gazes back levelly.

"It looks worse than it feels, Hawke. It's not so bad, really," she says quietly.

I refrain from commenting. I've decided to try and be supportive, after all, haven't I? By Andraste, this is hard. My fingers close about her wrist, and I draw her back over to her bed, sitting down on the edge and patting the space next to me. She settles herself close beside me, and I turn her hand palm up again. "Doesn't mean you have to leave it like this. Let me see what I can do."

I bend my head over her hand, closely examining on the half-healed gashes across her palm. I send gentle threads of creation magic probing gently along their edges, trying to identify the deepest, most serious cut to mend first as Merrill leans over a little to watch me, her warm breath gently stirring the fine hairs on the back of my neck. To call it distracting would be putting it somewhat mildly. I take a deep, quiet breath and concentrate harder, trying to keep focused on her hand; an effort that is quickly made futile when she speaks suddenly, her voice soft and tentative.

"Hawke, when you asked me, before... about Mahariel being special to me, I mean... did you think maybe we were... together?"

I sit back up slowly to look at her face. Her expression is unusually serious as she studies me with a guarded sort of look. I knew I shouldn't have asked her that, it was far too personal. I hope I haven't upset her. "I admit; the way you spoke of her, it did cross my mind," I say, hastening to apologise. "I'm sorry; it was really none of my business to pry."

"No, no, that's not why I brought it up," she says, gesturing emphatically with her free hand. "I don't mind if you ask me questions like that, Hawke, really. But Mahariel and I were just friends, clan-sisters, it was nothing more."

I smile, feeling another surge of relief at her words, and then lower my head quickly, refocusing my attention on the cuts across her palm. "I wouldn't blame you if it had been more," I comment, trying to sound casual as I weave a spell of healing, ready to channel it into her wounds. "I mean, who could possibly compare with the Hero of Ferelden?"

"Someone even more amazing and wonderful," she says, so quietly I almost don't hear her. At least, I think that's what she said.

I glance at her, and she looks away hastily, gazing down at her hand where it lies between mine. I pause in the middle of my silent spell, studying her in concern. She seems to be breathing quite rapidly, all of a sudden. "Am I hurting you?" I ask worriedly.

Merrill starts, and glances up at me, wide-eyed. "Oh... no. No, Hawke. I just..." She closes her eyes and draws in a long, steadying breath, then meets my gaze, though a faint flush burns in her cheeks as she looks at me. "I wanted to ask... have you ever... um... you know... been with someone special?" she asks timidly, her inflection leaving no doubt as to what she means.

I blink at her foolishly, utterly floored by her inquiry. And I thought my question was personal. This, combined with her flirting, earlier... It seems I have yet to learn my lesson to expect the unexpected from her. At last, I manage to summon an answer. "Well, no. I mean, I've... been with people, once or twice back in Lothering when I was growing up, you know, but... no one special, no."

"Me neither," she says, and gives a small, nervous laugh as she ducks her head. "I've never even... I mean... I was always sort of... secluded, learning, studying magic and history with the Keeper, and most of my clan mates were too wary of my position as First to even talk to me, let alone... you know." She pauses, and her face falls a little. "Although, nobody here in the alienage wants to talk to me either, really. It could just be me, I suppose."

I shake my head vehemently. "No, it couldn't." I meet her eyes seriously. "I can't imagine someone more loveable than you."

She gazes back at me for a moment, an endearing smile spreading across her face, and she tilts her head at me adorably. "Well... I can think of someone," she offers shyly, giving me a meaningful look.

My pulse quickens at the expression in her eyes. I'm certain there's something there this time, but is it... is it really what I think? Or am I just wishing so hard I'm seeing things that aren't there? Maker, I wish I could be sure. I wish I could be brave enough to find out. But I'm afraid; afraid that I'm wrong; that I'll frighten her away, or even lose her friendship, and I couldn't stand that, I'd rather just be her friend than risk losing her completely. I drop my gaze back to her hand, and return my concentration to healing her. I'm such a coward.

"There," I say when I finish, rubbing my fingers gently over her skin. There's only the faintest trace of scars crossing her palm now, some of my best work. "All done."

Merrill smiles at me gratefully. "Thank you, lethallan." She pauses for a moment, and then looks at me with an impish expression. "Shall I give you your payment, then, for healing me? A kiss on the cheek? Or was it two kisses?"

I blink, and then laugh in delight as I grasp her reference. She remembers that, after all this time? Maker's breath... "I believe the price we settled on was four," I tease playfully.

Merrill giggles, then smiles shyly and squeezes my fingers a little, making me look down unconsciously at the gentle pressure of her newly mended hand. She bends forward to kiss me on the cheek, but I lift my head up toward her instinctively as I catch her sudden movement in the corner of my eye, and she misses, her lips pressing against the corner of my mouth instead. My breath hitches in my throat at the sweet shock of the contact, and she pulls back, her eyes blinking rapidly in surprise. I can't think of what to say, so I remain silent, and a little stunned, watching her, expecting a swift torrent of apologetic words to pour from her at any second, but she says nothing; she just stares at me, her eyes wide and dark, unreadable and beautiful, shining brightly in the flickering firelight.

And then she reaches for me, her slender arms curling around my neck as she leans in towards me again; I only have an instant to realise what is happening before her mouth meets mine and I'm swept away, hot tingling fire springing from the touch of her lips and racing through my whole body. I hesitate for just a moment, and then I fold her tightly in my arms, and return her kiss with everything I have, trying to show her everything I've always thought, always felt, but never had the courage to say aloud.

She smells warm, and earthy, and sweet. A sunlit forest glade of spring wildflowers. Her kiss is unsure, unpractised, but ardent, passionate, and yet, oh, so tender. Her lips are so soft. I never thought she'd want this, want me, not really. Maker, please let this be real. It has to be. It's too wonderful to be a dream. I pull her closer, losing myself in the scent of her dark hair, the taste of her on my lips, the feel of her in my arms, and my soul stirs, my heart sings, my spirit soars.

She always manages to surprise me.

xxx M xxx

Mythal! I meant to kiss her cheek, I did, I didn't mean to be so forward, but then she moved her head, and then my lips touched her mouth, just a little, and it was so nice, and now I can't help it. I can't hold myself back anymore, and I just react, my actions born of pure instinct, they must be, since I've no experience to speak of. My lips part slightly at the first touch of hers, and I wrap my arms around her neck, closing my eyes.

I'm kissing her. I'm kissing Hawke! What am I doing? Creators, I don't know what I'm doing! She must have noticed. I feel like such a fool, such a child. But... she hasn't pushed me away. Her arms are around me, stroking up and down my back, holding me tightly, pressing me against her, and she's returning my kiss. She's kissing me, too. She is!

Hawke's tongue glides lightly across my lips, and I open them wider without even thinking about it. Is that what I'm meant to do? Suddenly I feel her tongue moving against mine, inside my mouth and I nearly pull away in shock before I realise how good it feels. I suppose Hawke knows what she's doing. It does feel good. Creators, but it does. Her hand slides slowly up to the back of my head, and she holds it tenderly, pressing her lips harder against mine. My heart races as her other hand wanders slowly down my tunic, along my spine, til it rests just above my hips and she pulls me closer, shifting a little on the bed and pressing me against her. I let her lead me; it must be so obvious that I don't know what to do, but she doesn't seem to mind at all. She leans forward, gently guiding my body back with her own as her hand cradles my head, her other arm supporting me as she lowers me to the bed, lying down beside me, drawing me into a deeper kiss.

My arms are still wrapped around her neck, fingers tangling in her hair. Hawke's hand moves from the small of my back to my side, and starts stroking slowly from my ribs down to my hips, and back again, just a soft, gentle caress that I can barely feel. Of course, I am still wearing my chainmail under my tunic, so that probably doesn't help. Even so, it's such... such an intimate touch, and I'm... I'm not... I'm not sure what to do, I mean, I do know a little about what I'm supposed to do, from Isabela's books, and her stories, but... I'm not sure if I can, I don't want Hawke to stop, but then again I do, a little bit, I mean, I've never done this before, what if I'm terrible? No, there's no 'what if'; I will be terrible, I'll be clumsy and awkward, and Hawke will be so disappointed...

A fretful whimper escapes me at the thought of disappointing Hawke, and she stops immediately, pulling back, leaving me feeling bereft at the sudden lack of contact. My eyes snap open in surprise, searching out her face worriedly. She is gazing at me with a nervous, almost frightened expression.

"Merrill? What's wrong? What did I do?" Hawke asks anxiously, raising herself up on her elbow to look at me.

My eyes widen at the fearful note in her voice, and I sit up a little too, watching her apprehensively. I've ruined everything, foolishly panicking and made her feel badly, already. I knew that I would! I shake my head forcefully, both at myself, and in response to her words. "Oh, no! You did nothing, Hawke, it's just me, I'm sorry, I've just..." I close my eyes, blushing in embarrassment. I can't meet her gaze. "I've never done this before."

"You've never kissed anyone?" she asks, her voice soft.

I shake my head again, still too shamed to look at her. "N-no, not... like this."

Hawke is silent for a moment, and then I feel her fingers touch my cheek, softly, making my eyes open, and I'm looking straight into her captivating gaze. I can't look away, now; she holds my eyes intently, determinedly, and her mouth curves in a small, lovely smile. "Well," she begins, her voice low, and rough and... and husky. Yes, that's the right word, I'm pretty sure. I like it very much indeed. "I have to say; so far you're very good at it."

I blink in surprise, and then blush furiously. I am? Really? "Oh... thank you! You are too, of course, wonderful, even. N-not that I would really know... but I'm sure you are, though! It felt wonderful to me, anyway, it's just..." My face grows even hotter as I watch her, waiting patiently for me to explain myself with that wonderful little smile gracing her lips. "I-I don't know that I'll be very good at doing anything... more. I mean, Isabela has shown me lots of things - in her dirty books, I mean!" I explain hastily as she narrows her eyes a little, suspiciously. "But seeing it in pictures and actually doing it are very different, and... I just-"

Hawke's eyes widen, and her mouth drops open slightly. She looks surprised, and a bit ashamed, in a shocked sort of way. She suddenly sits up completely, looking frightened and serious. "I wasn't going to... Oh, Merrill, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she says frantically, moving back on the bed until her back hits the wall. She starts at the impact, and glances automatically over her shoulder for a moment, then blinks and looks at me earnestly, taking a deep breath to calm herself before she speaks. "I'm... well, I'm no expert on relationships, but I don't think the ones that jump straight from kissing to... to lovemaking are the ones that last," she says quietly, her tone sincere. "I would never push you to go faster than you're comfortable with."

I sit up, too, wanting to reassure her. "I know you wouldn't, Hawke, you're too good." Then my mind catches up with my ears, and I pause, studying her uncertainly. "Relationship?" I tilt my head, searching her eyes. "Are we... are we courting, now?" I ask hopefully.

She stares at me for a moment, and then a slow smile spreads across her face, and she tentatively moves a little closer. "Is that what you want?"

I bite my bottom lip, nodding shyly. Her smile grows wider, and her eyes sparkle, like stardust, like fire, like lightning. "Then that sounds perfect," she says quietly, her voice warm honey and sunshine. "Yes. I would love to court you, Merrill, if I may."

I smile and nod again even more quickly as my heart leaps in my chest. I'm so happy I can hardly draw breath to answer her. "Oh, yes, Hawke. I would like that, more than anything." I shift a little on the bed, closing the distance between us a bit. "Can I..." I falter shyly, trying to stop my voice from quivering nervously. "Can I kiss you again?"

Hawke gives a surprised, melodious laugh at my boldness, and her eyes shine. "You don't have to ask me." She lifts a hand, reaching out to slowly sweep the hair from my brow, tucking it behind my ear. How could I have missed the tenderness in that gesture, in her eyes, every time she's done it before? "It's too late to start with flowers and badly written poetry, I suppose," she adds with a smile. "Not that I have any objection; quite the opposite, in fact. Don't worry; I don't intend to do too much too quickly." She looks into my eyes knowingly, her voice becoming serious, but kind and sincere. "Merrill... it's alright to be scared, you know."

Scared of... of being intimate. That's what she means. I look down, tugging nervously at a loose thread in my worn old blanket. "I'm... not scared, exactly. Not really, anyway."

"I was, my first time," she says softly, seriously. I glance at her in wordless surprise. Hawke was scared? She sees my look, and shrugs a little. "It's only natural to be nervous about being so physically intimate with another person. And... I care for you too much to risk going too fast."

She cares for me. She said it. Oh, Creators, thank you for granting me such a gift. My heart flutters just like a little bird. "Isabela was right!"

"About what?" Hawke asks, tilting her head curiously at me. I feel my eyes widen. Oh no, did I say that out loud? Hawke watches my reaction, confusion plain on her face, and then realisation dawns in her eyes. "Wait... about this? You talked to Isabela about me?" I nod hesitantly, and she laughs. "Maker's breath, that's what made her behave that way today, isn't it?"

I smile in relief at her reaction; I thought maybe she'd be cross at me for causing Isabela to act how she did. Especially since it made her so uncomfortable. "Yes, I'm sorry, Hawke; that was my fault. I told her how much I care for you, and she said... she said she thought you adored me, too. She told me to try flirting with you, but I was too shy. Then she was trying to make me jealous so I would... take some initiative, and 'make a move' on you, is how she put it, anyway."

"Well, then," Hawke laughs. "It certainly worked, didn't it? I suppose I should thank her. I owe her a pint or two, now, at the very least." She gazes at me, and I shiver happily at the intensity of emotion blazing in her eyes. "And she was right; I absolutely adore you."

I breathe in sharply as her words wash over me, bathing me in warmth like the light of the sun. "I feel the same for you, Hawke," I tell her fervently.

"You have no idea how wonderful it is to hear you say that," she says, her face glowing with delight, and then she pulls me into her embrace, giving me the kiss I asked for, her lips capturing mine with tender sweetness, and it's just as wondrous as before, just as amazing, only I know a bit more of what to expect, now. And I've learned a little, too. I am quite a quick study. Her kiss is slower this time, soft and careful, and she holds me to her, her hands resting gently against my back. I let mine wander just a little, stroking down her spine as I slowly grow bolder, secure in the knowledge that it's alright, that she wants me to. That she feels for me what I feel for her.

Hawke pulls back, at length, and I slowly open my eyes, still reeling from the tingling touch of her lips against mine. She is gazing at me with an expression I've never seen before from anyone.

"You are so beautiful," she breathes, and I feel tears prick suddenly beneath my lashes. Oh, Mythal. No one has ever thought me beautiful before, or if they did somehow manage to, they didn't tell me so. I want to tell Hawke that she is beautiful, too, more than I could ever hope to be, but there's a lump in my throat, and the words get stuck, they won't come out. I can only stare at her in wonder and gratitude and disbelief, trying to show her what I feel without saying anything, whilst trying desperately to put voice to the words in my heart and speak.

She kisses my forehead softly before I can manage to, and then glances up at the ceiling. "I can see the stars through your roof," she says, and sighs. "I... I should go. I hope the street gangs aren't awake yet, although that's likely a vain wish; they do seem to rise with the moon." Hawke releases me slowly, reluctantly, and slides off the bed.

I hesitate, torn between what I know she should probably do and what I wish she would do, and then stand quickly, taking a gentle hold of her wrist. "Do you have to leave?"

She stops, and turns to look at me, her indecision showing clearly in her eyes. "I probably should, if I were inclined to be sensible. I will come back in the morning."

"It's just..." I begin, and then pause, searching for the right words. "It's very late, now. You shouldn't be walking all the way back to Hightown, not alone. You should..." I take a deep breath, summoning the courage to ask her for what I want. "You should just sleep here."

She raises an eyebrow, and I blush under her gaze. "It's alright, Merrill. I meant what I said. There's no need to rush things, not before you're ready."

I scratch at my head, trying to explain. "I didn't mean... not that I don't... it's just... you could stay, anyway, couldn't you?" I ask, looking at her pleadingly. "You could hold me, and we could fall asleep together, like... like that time before, three years ago. That was wonderful... And I thought, since you said you care for me, that it would be alright to ask."

"Mmm. That does sound nice," she muses, and then smiles wryly. "Although, you have no idea how hard it was for me to keep my hands off you, that night."

I blink in astonishment. "Really? You... you felt that way, even then?" She nods, and my heart swells. "I did too!" Then I pause, thinking. "Oh... that's probably not something to be excited about, is it? I mean, all this time we could have said something... we could have been..." I shake my head, smiling. "We are both such silly fools."

Hawke laughs, wonderfully. "We are, indeed." She smiles, drawing me close. "If that's what you want, then I'll stay with you. I'll behave myself, I promise. I want to go slowly, too." Hawke plants a gentle kiss on the top of my head. "You need to be sure, and comfortable. Since you haven't... I mean, since it would be, you know... your first time, and all..." I look up at her in surprise. She's stuttering and babbling, all of a sudden, just like I do. Coming from her, it's sort of... what's the right word? Cute? Hawke shrugs in a helpless manner, blushing furiously, and I bury my face against her chest to hide my smile. Oh, yes, it's very cute. "Well, it puts a lot of pressure on me to make it memorable... in a good way," she continues, smoothing a hand over my hair. "I want it to be right. Perfect."

"With you, how could it be otherwise?" I say quietly, and her arms tighten around me, holding me even closer. I close my eyes and lean into her embrace, my head against her heart, feeling safe, and warm, and joyful. I will owe Isabela forever for convincing me to show my feelings to Hawke, even if it was sort of an accident that I managed it. A wonderful one, though. Much better than the normal sort of accidents that happen to me. And to think, I meant to wait until the eluvian was finished to say anything to Hawke. This time, at least, I am absolutely joyful that I have managed to ruin my own plans so completely.

"Are you going to take this off, then?" Hawke asks suddenly, running a finger gently down the chainmail sheathing my arm. My eyes blink open and I glance up at her in a little consternation, suddenly nervous. She chuckles quietly at my expression. "It just doesn't look too comfortable to sleep in, that's all."

"Oh! Yes... I have night-time things," I say, reaching under my pillow for the soft shirt and loose cotton pants that I keep there to sleep in. I grab them, and turn to Hawke, frowning. "I don't think I have anything to give you to wear, though."

"I doubt if any... night-time things of yours would fit me," she smiles. "They'd be a mite too small, I think. These should do just fine, they're quite comfortable," she says, indicating the plain clothes she's wearing, the ones she bought in the market today. "I'll let you change, then." She winks at me, and lets me go, walking out of my room to sit by the fireplace and remove her boots, from what I can see through my doorway. I undo my chainmail as quickly as I can and change hurriedly, and then pull open the covers on my bed and sit down, calling to her softly. She comes back over, smiling, and sits next to me, folding me tenderly in her arms and lying down, pulling me gently with her. I pull the blanket over us, and settle into her embrace, laying my head against her chest, and sighing in utter joy and delight.

She raises her hand, palm up, and then makes a fist, whispering under her breath, and every candle in my house winks out abruptly, leaving only the gentle glow of embers from the hearth in the main room. I stare, marvelling at her control, and open my mouth to ask her what spell she used; then promptly forget all about it as she lets her cheek rest against the top of my head, making a small sound of contentment, and begins gently stroking her hand through my hair.

"If I wake up in the morning, and find this was all a dream, I'm going to be very upset," she comments quietly.

I giggle softly, and she laughs a little, too, pressing her lips against my forehead again as she does so. "It is no dream, Hawke," I whisper blissfully, listening to her muffled heartbeat through the soft fabric of her shirt.

"I don't really want to go to sleep. I want to stay awake forever, just like this," she says sleepily, and I can hear the peaceful smile in her voice as she speaks.

I smile as well, cuddling into her as close as I can. "So do I. But we must rest."

"Mmm. I suppose you're right," she sighs, her fingers combing gently through my hair one last time before she lowers her hand, reaching her arm beneath the blanket to drape it snugly around my waist. "Big day tomorrow, after all. Sweet dreams, Merrill." I feel her breathing slow, and deepen, and my rhythm matches hers as I sink into the velvet darkness, hearing the subtle call of the Beyond grow stronger, drifting towards the world of dreams and nightmares. The nightmares will not touch me tonight, though, not now, not with Hawke beside me. Before I succumb to the lure of sleep, I lift my head and gaze at her sleeping face for a moment, then lean down to kiss her mouth gently, careful not to wake her, revelling in the feel of her arms around me, the warmth of her body against mine, the knowledge that she cares for me too, as I care for her. The feeling is... indescribable. I lay my head back down softly against her heart, and close my eyes at last. I will be with you soon, walking the dream paths of the Fade. I promise. As sleep settles back in to claim me, I whisper into the darkness, just softly, though she will not hear me now; she is already there.

"Ma'arlath, Hawke... ma vhenan."