I think you all know what's coming. It's been harrowing up to now, I know, but I hope this makes it better. I'm very sorry if you don't like the rivalmance stuff in the last chapter and this scene, but, well, it's my story, and I like it this way; it makes the relationship more... something. Eventful, perhaps? Deeper, maybe. Dramatic, certainly. It's not really a rivalmance anyway, I just like the dramatic appeal of those scenes, and I think they add more to the story. And after all, conflict is the essence of drama, or something like that. But my Hawke and Merrill are friends and lovers, not rivals and lovers. Just read to the end of this chapter before giving up and you'll see. My mage Hawke was confused (and scared), but she will see the light and find a way to resolve the situation, as usual.
Oh, and though my story has an M rating, I'm trying to make that part of the chapter sweet and pretty simple stuff, not really graphic, or anything. Nor too detailed, or lengthy. I really just want it to be sweet and tender, like the way it plays out in the game. I really hope that's how it reads. It's hardly a fade to black, though, so if you are uncomfortable reading such scenes, well, you've been warned. I've never written anything like this before, it's really hard to write, for me, anyway. Really, really hard. Like, nearly give up and run screaming into the night hard. Still, it is an M story so look out; adult situations. Mature content. You know... intimate stuff.
Also, some sappy stuff. Beware! But again, I remain unapologetic. Wanting more sappy loving stuff between Merrill and Hawke is pretty much the main reason I decided to try writing a story in the first place, so enjoy (hopefully). I hope to write some much lighter, much more fun stuff after this, and get away from all the dark confusing unpleasantness. And I will, eventually, so stay tuned! And thank you.
xxx H xxx
The parlour fire flares and flickers as I sit morosely on the rug before it, the logs crackling and shifting in the flames, but I don't register the heat. I feel frozen.
What have I done?
I can't think. I can't...
Am I right? Or am I wrong? I just... I don't know, anymore. Maker only knows, and he's not telling.
She was so sad, so hurt, so furious with me... and I did that to her... how could I do that to her?
But... it is worth her fury, isn't it? It was worth hearing the anger and outrage and even the hurt in her voice as she told me to get out, to go, to leave her. It is even... Maker, it's even worth knowing I have lost any chance of being with her if only it keeps her safe. I just want her safe. I couldn't let her destroy herself for the sake of forgotten lore. I couldn't. I could be wrong, or... or maybe it's just selfishness. But the Keeper, Maker, the whole Dalish clan doesn't want any part of Merrill's mirror; they're all terrified of the damn thing. Maybe they should be, from what I felt from it before; that subtle, sinister whisper, and the insidious current of fury in the air... Add that to dealing with a bloody pride demon... how can she not see how unacceptable such a risk is? Why can't she find another method to mend the mirror, or some other way to reclaim her peoples' heritage? There is always another way!
How could you?
Merrill's face flashes into my mind; the wounded look of betrayal in her eyes piercing me through, and I can't stifle a pitiful, desolate sob; I've broken my own promise to myself to do anything to prevent her from being hurt. But by causing her this pain, I'm only sparing her far greater hurt that will surely come from this self-destructive path...
Aren't I?
It's hard to hold my mind to such a conviction while my heart is screaming at what I've done. What I've done to her. The expression on Merrill's face, the one that's been there every time she's looked at me since I sided with the Keeper against her... every time I close my eyes, I see it, and every time it sends a shaft of pure agony shooting through my chest. And did it even help at all, in the end? All it seems I did was force her to use even more blood magic... oh, Maker, those deep cuts, those slashes, all over her arms, her hands... and I drove her to that. I drove her to such self-destruction, such self-mutilation. How is that any better? Any safer?
And when she... Maker, when she said she never wanted to see me again...
I almost broke at that. I wanted to give the arulin'holm to her, give her anything she wanted, anything, if only she would take back those words. If I'd had it with me, maybe I would have. Maybe I should. Even now I feel the urge to grab the thing and run to the alienage, fall to my knees before her and lay it at her feet, begging her forgiveness. But when I think of the cruel blade of the ancient carving tool and how she'll use it, how she'll drag it across her soft pale skin and use her lifeblood to call on her demon... I can't...
Can I? Would it be any worse than what she has been doing without it?
The way she looked, when she finally turned to me, so pale, so drained, the floor beneath the eluvian covered in her blood... I did that to her. I should have stayed, no matter what she said, but I... I didn't think. I couldn't think. I still can't. I should have stayed to heal her, to try, at least, though I know she wouldn't have let me. I think she would have forced me to leave if I hadn't gone; physically, or even magically. She could have, with her blood magic; controlled me, forced me out. She would never have been capable of such a thing before, but then, she was just so furious... and I never thought she would ever... ever strike me, either, not intentionally. But she did. Though... I'm not certain she was entirely... herself, when she did that. I felt something from the mirror, I'm certain of it. Something was there, a wrathful, insidious presence, an influence, and I feel certain that it came from the eluvian. I should have smashed that cursed mirror and crushed the shards beneath my heels... as though that would have solved anything.
But... what I felt from it... it didn't feel that way before. Before I denied her the arulin'holm, before I drove her to this, to whatever blood magic rituals she used that... altered it in such a way, made it so... sinister, so dark. So malevolent. Is that my fault, as well? Would it have happened at all, if I hadn't kept the blade from her? Would it?
How could you do that to me?
I wipe angrily at my eyes and run a hand through my almost-dry hair, trying to dispel my dark, desperately bewildered and vacillating thoughts. I am not having much success. I'm so confused. I absently scratch my sleepy mabari behind his furry ear to try and distract myself as I sit cross-legged beside him before the fireplace; the short skirt of my silk bathing robe hiked up comfortably over my knees. Hardly decent, perhaps, but I really don't have the heart to care, just now. Besides, there's no danger of ayone seeing me; no one else in the house is awake at this hour. Unsurprising, considering how late it is, after all. It took me a long time to get home tonight, after Merrill... after I left the alienage, accosted as I was by so many different thugs and criminals on my way through Lowtown, and then Hightown as well; all apparently conspiring together to ensure that this is without a doubt the worst day I've had in a good long while. I barely managed to make it through them in one piece, all by myself. But I managed, eventually. Somehow. The only piece of luck, if I want to call it that, is that by the time I finally dragged myself into the house, practically dripping with the blood and gore of countless Dog Lords, mabari and Invisible Sisters; there was no one about. Bodahn, Sandal and Mother were all long abed, which mercifully relieved me from suffering any unwanted fuss and concern. I was pathetically grateful when I realised that no one else was awake and took great pains to bathe quietly. I just... I don't want to talk to anyone right now. I don't want to see anyone. Not a damned soul.
I never want to see you again!
Oh, Maker save me...
A crushing weight of loneliness and despair settles firmly onto my shoulders as I stare despondently into the fire, feeling utterly hollow. I haven't felt this way for a long time. I feel just like when we lost Bethany to the ogre, and when I lost Carver; just as heartsore, just as hopeless and bleak, like I'll never feel happy again. Like I don't deserve to. It only makes it worse to know that; however awful I think I feel right now, Merrill must be hurting far more deeply. Losing four of her clan mates in a single day, finding out that the rest of her clan, her family, think she's a danger to them because the Keeper, the closest thing she has to a mother, told them that she was. And then to have me set myself against her too, on top of everything else... Oh, Andraste, she must have felt so alone. How could I have added to her pain as I did? Is this really the best thing to do? I thought it was... but am I preventing her from completing her mirror with the arulin'holm because I truly think it shouldn't be restored her way, because it's too dangerous, or am I simply doing it because I can't bear the thought of her getting hurt trying? Which, of course, has hurt her even more deeply in the process. Betrayed by the person she trusted the most to help her. That's what it was. A betrayal of her trust.
My eyes narrow abruptly as I glare into the flames. She trusted me to help her, but not enough to tell me about her demon. I blink, suddenly, startled by that resentful reflection. Is it fair of me to think that way? Doubtless she thought I wouldn't react well, and I know how hard it can be for her to talk to me about even the most innocuous things, sometimes, let alone tell me about something like this. And look at the way I reacted, when she did finally tell me. I was hardly understanding, after all, was I? But... if she had told me earlier, perhaps taken the time to explain everything to me when we were both calm, rational... would I have accepted it, then? Maybe, maybe not, but I certainly would have had no cause to feel hurt that she kept something like this from me...
I feel a sudden surge of unease as more conflicting thoughts scramble across my mind. Just how much of my choice was influenced by the hurt I felt; when I thought she didn't trust me enough to tell me everything? Aveline and the Keeper both seemed to make persuasive points against helping Merrill restore the eluvian, but are they right? Or did I simply let myself be swayed by their arguments because, deep down, I'm just terrified for her? Did the Keeper play on my fears and my doubts so that I would keep the arulin'holm from her, hurt her, hoping she would return to the clan? Would she do such a thing? If she loves Merrill that much, of course she would. She'd do whatever it takes to keep her safe, just as I would... oh, Maker.
Perhaps Isabela is right. As much as I care for Merrill, I... perhaps I shouldn't have made this choice for her. Perhaps I should...
Oh, bloody Void, I'm just going around in circles. Andraste save me, I'm so confused! I can't make sense of this at all.
I don't know what's right or wrong, anymore.
I don't know what to do...
What should I do?
What?
Suddenly I hear a faint sound like the creaking of a door, and I look up hesitantly towards the top of the stairs, expecting to see Mother coming out of her room. I watch her door apprehensively, dreading the inevitable conversation and explanation that will follow when she finds me here on the floor dressed in nothing but a bathrobe, sitting on the rug with the dog in the middle of the night.
But her door remains shut. There's nobody there. Everything is quiet. Perhaps I imagined it. I dismiss it from my mind and turn back to the fire, preparing to indulge in another bout of miserable brooding to put even Fenris to shame.
But then my faithful hound stirs beside me, raising his head and pricking up his ears, listening intently to something; some sound beyond my hearing. I strain my own ears, trying to listen for whatever has caught his attention, but I can't hear anything. I look down at him questioningly, and he gives a soft woof, sniffing the air, his tail giving a few cheerful thumps as he gazes pointedy in the direction of the entrance hall, and I can hear it now, a quiet, rhythmic, familiar sound; the soft padding of bare feet against stone, coming along the hall towards me. I raise my eyes to the open doorway, listening intently, my heart in my throat as the sound grows louder, her light, graceful footsteps drawing nearer and nearer, each soft, gentle sound filling me with hope, dread, joy, and excited, nervous fear, and then suddenly there she is; stepping into the light and standing on the dark threshold, gazing at me with an unreadable expression as firelight and shadow play over her beautiful features and cause her moon pale skin to glow, her midnight hair to shine, and her emerald eyes to gleam and glitter against the darkness as though the light of a thousand falling stars are bound within their brilliant depths.
"Hawke," she whispers quietly, uncertainly. Her voice is shaking.
Merrill.
I rise slowly, hesitantly, staring at her. I want to run to her and take her into my arms, but considering how we parted, I am sure she wouldn't welcome it. So I stay still, waiting a few paces away, unsure of what to do next; what she wants me to do, what she expects me to do. We watch each other in silence.
"I... your door wasn't locked," she says suddenly. "I didn't knock, I didn't know if... I didn't want you to turn me away, so I... I just sort of... came in."
I bite the inside of my cheek to suppress a wry and highly inappropriate smile. She was afraid of being kept out, so she broke in. I think I can understand that, somehow. "It's alright. I can relate, after all, can't I?" I offer quietly as I gaze at her. Maker, how can anyone be so lovely?
Merrill stares at me with wide, sad eyes for a few uncomfortable moments, and then looks away. "Hawke... Back at my house, I should never have said..." she begins, then pauses, apparently unable to repeat her angry words. I wait, my heart caught in my throat. When Merrill eventually looks back up at me, her eyes are bright with unshed tears. "I didn't mean it."
I draw in a deep, grateful breath of relief. Maker, I'm so glad to hear her say that! Of course, it is somewhat self-evident, since she's here looking at me right now, after all, but still... Oh, Andraste, thank you! I gaze at her steadily, keeping my expression impassive mainly out of habit and a slight, lingering uncertaintly, but inside... inside, I'm singing with joy. I have no idea what to say to her, though. Usually I would make some sort of stupid joke to make things better, but... this is hardly the time for levity.
"People...say a lot of things when they're angry," I finally manage to get out."I knew you didn't mean it." Well, I know now. And besides; I would forgive her anything.
Though, perhaps I'm the one who should ask for forgiveness.
Merrill lowers her head a litle, looking at the floor, as if my reply somehow made her feel even worse. What did I say? Maker, I'm bad at this! I unconsciously take a step forward, just as Merrill does the same. I stop short, unsure of myself, wanting to move delicately so as to not make matters worse.
"I am... really sorry that I hit you, Hawke," she says quietly, looking up at me with mournful eyes.
I smile a little wryly, trying to be reassuring, though I can still almost feel the sting across my face, the shock of the sharp contact of her hand against my cheek. "It's alright. I daresay I deserved it." She blinks, opening her mouth to protest, and I hold up a hand, forestalling her. It seems... somehow clearer now, now that she's here with me again. Maybe I'm just willing to say anything, do anything to keep her here at this point, but... I don't care, anymore, I can't remember any of my reasoning or rationalising over the past few days. None of it matters to me right now. Only she matters, only her happiness. Only her. I would forgive you anything. I'd do anything for you. "You had just lost four of your clan mates in one day, and then after all that, I go and take away the very reason we went there in the first place, when I promised to help you? You were right to hit me; I wouldn't have blamed you for doing worse. If anything, I'm surprised you didn't hit me earlier."
Merrill shakes her head forcefully. "No, Hawke. It was wrong of me. You didn't deserve it at all. I just, I was angry, like you said, but I let it take me over, and... I should never have done it. I should not have struck you." Her expression becomes pained, and she looks away. "I'm sorry."
"I forgive you," I tell her quickly. I don't really see that there's anything to forgive, but perhaps she needs to hear it. And I need to try and explain myself, if I can. "I was... I've been so confused, Merrill. What I did... I just wanted to keep you safe, that's all, but... I don't know if what I did was right or wrong, anymore."
She closes her eyes briefly at my words, shaking her head a little, then meets my gaze again. "I don't know, either. You've only ever done the right thing before, Hawke. You always do. I'm not so sure anymore, about what I've been doing, I mean. But I do know that whatever you do... you only ever try to help me. I am sure of that, if nothing else." She sighs, and a pained look comes into her eyes. "Sometimes I think...you're too good to be with someone like me," she says softly.
I say nothing, feeling more confused than ever. She... she thinks I'm too good? And what is she talking about, 'someone like her'? There was no one more bright and good than Merrill, no one. Certainly not me.
Merrill looks away as she continues. "I wish...I wish I were more like you. Maybe then, I'd know what I should do, about the mirror, and... everything. Maybe then you'd think of me as... more than a bumbling idiot. More than just a foolish child who needs your protection."
My eyes open wide in surprise. Is that really how she thinks I see her? Nothing could be further from the truth! "I don't think you're an idiot, far from it!" I rush to reassure her, my tone insistent. "And I certainly don't think you're a child. I worry about you, Merrill, but I don't think less of you. I never could." I try to show her my sincerity in my eyes. Surely she can see it?
Merrill smiles faintly, sadly."You say that, but I know it's not true." What? Of course it's true! Maker, why can't I ever say anything right? Why can't I make her see how I feel? Merrill rubs a hand through her dark hair, looking at me with those big, sorrowful eyes. "I know I make stupid mistakes, and I babble like a fool, and you..." She drops her hand, and her eyes become even wider as she continues, her voice full of fervent intensity. "You're beautiful and clever. You're too good. Too good to throw yourself away on me. You shouldn't have to waste your time trying to save me from my own folly. Protecting me from my own foolishness, all the time."
She thinks I'm good, even after I hurt her so. But... 'throw myself away on her'? Maker, is she trying to say what I think she is? She can't be trying to end it. Please, let her stay. Let her give me another chance. I can't stop myself; I step forward and take Merrill gently by her slender shoulders. "You're not foolish. And you're worth it, Merrill. I care about you. I mean it. I want to be there for you." I smile, daring to offer a wry comment; "Besides, what if I just enjoy being your protector?"
Merrill locks gazes with me. She does not smile back. "You can't save me, Hawke. It's not worth trying."
It is worth it! You are worth everything! I feel my grip tighten slightly as though I can convince her to understand, to believe me, by touch alone. I'm starting to feeling unsure again, cowed by her grim expression, and the bleakness in her tone. But I can't let her leave it at that. I won't. "Don't you think that's for me to decide?" I ask, my voice soft but firm, brooking no argument. "I'll never give up on you, no matter what. I won't abandon you, Merrill, not ever."
"Maybe I want you to abandon me. Did you ever consider that?" she says shortly, but her voice is shaking, and her body trembles beneath my hands as she wraps her arms about herself. She looks away from me.
I suddenly feel a strange sense of reckless urgency. This is it, the point of no return. Everything will change tonight. It's time to resolve this, one way or another. My pulse is racing. I shake my head slowly, and reluctantly release her, stepping back a little. She has to make this choice without influence, without interference.
"That isn't what you want," I say quietly, with absolute certaintly. Almost. "If it was, you wouldn't have come here tonight. Merrill, look at me." She slowly raises her head, and lifts her gaze to meet mine.
I look back at her steadily. "You told me you never wanted to see me again." She flinches, but doesn't look away. "Then you said you didn't mean it. Now you say you want me to leave you, abandon you, in your words." I take a breath, forcing myself to continue. "It has to be one or the other. With me, or without me. If you really want me out of your life, this is your chance to tell me so. And if... if that's what you really want, then I'll leave you alone. I... I swear it." My voice becomes rough and ragged with the strength of my emotions. Part of me can't believe I'm saying this to her. The other part, the part that needs to know, to settle this, urges me to keep pushing, to see this through. I know she doesn't want to leave. I know it.
By the Void, I hope I'm right.
I take a single step toward her, locking my eyes with hers. "But you have to mean it this time. Look in my eyes, and say it. Tell me you don't want me in your life. Tell me you don't want to be with me."
I move closer, still not touching her, staring into her eyes, holding her gaze, challenging her to say it, if she can.
"Tell me you don't want me."
She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Her eyes are bright and wide as she looks at me; her breath is coming in short, quiet gasps. Her mouth slowly closes, and she shakes her head slowly. "I can't. Creators, I can't say it. I can't live without you, Hawke. I don't want you to leave me alone."
I feel a wave of utter relief wash over me, accompanied by a sudden urge to press her fiercely against me, but before I can move, her expression hardens and she bursts out:
"But you should! For your own good, you should, Hawke. I'll only bring you pain." She gazes at me without blinking, breathing quickly as her words spill urgently forth from her in a torrential flood of anxious desperation. "There is danger in what I'm doing with the eluvian, you are right about that, and you were right that it felt different. Wrong. It's because I was angry, I think, and I'm leaving it alone for now. And I know what I am trying to do is dangerous, I do know that, but... it isn't me you should be worried about. It's you. Whatever else I may be, I am also a blood mage. I can't evade the Templars forever, and if they catch me... if they take me, they won't hesitate to punish anyone close to me as well." She glances away and takes a deep breath, consciously halting her words, and then slowly raises her eyes to mine once more. Her expression is calm, almost blank.
"If you stick with me, you and everyone you love will be in danger," Merrill says flatly, her tone uncharacteristically forceful and uncompromising. I stand still, watching her uncertainly, feeling an icy stab of sudden fear at the new turn our conversation seems to be taking. I don't know what she's trying to say. I'm terrified that she's going to leave me. Maker, please don't let her go; I couldn't bear it if she left.
She looks at me bleakly, resigned determination in her eyes. "You... you should let me go, Hawke. Forget me. I am too dangerous for you to be around."
My blood freezes cold at her words.
You should let me go. Forget me.
No.
I'll only bring you pain...
No. Oh, Maker, what have I done?
I can't breathe. I can't speak. I can only stare at her, wide-eyed, begging her silently, pleading;
Don't. Don't go. Please don't leave. Stay with me.
Stay...
Her expression doesn't waver, at first, but then her face crumples slightly as she gazes at me, and a note of desperate pleading enters her voice. "It... it's better this way. Don't you see? If... when the Templars discover me, discover what I am, they will come for you, next, then they'll find out you're a mage too, and they'll... they'll..." She shakes her head quickly, angrily, fearfully. "And that isn't even the least of the danger I will put you in! What if something goes wrong with the eluvian, or what if... if I'm wrong, if I can't resist the demon, and it possesses me... " She gives a little sob, and my heart constricts. Her chest heaves as she looks at me, and her voice trembles. "Do you understand, I, I can't bear if anything happens to you because of me..."
She breaks off suddenly, her breathing now shallow and rapid, and she closes her eyes tightly; but not before I see the fear deep within them, the terror, the dread.
Oh, Maker.
I take another half step towards her, wanting to reassure her, to comfort her. I love you so much I can't breathe. I'll take my chances with the bloody Templars. And I will never let the demon have you. Never. Why can't you see what I feel? Why can't you believe it?
I have to make her believe it. Say it, you idiot, speak!
"It will be alright, Merrill. I promise I won't let that happen." My words are soft; my voice gentle, but firm and unyielding. "If the Templars ever get their hands on you, they won't have time to come for me; I'll be going for them. But it isn't going to happen. I won't let it; not the Templars, not the demon, not any of it. Don't go. Stay, please. Don't be afraid. It will be alright."
She lifts her head slowly, looking up at me, and I freeze at the expression in her eyes. Maker, my love, my little one, how can you feel such pain?
After a moment of heavy silence, Merrill lowers her gaze.
"Ma vhenan... don't save me... please, just... don't."
Her whispered words, spoken with such hopelessness and despair, nearly break my heart. I promised to keep you safe. Saving you is what I'm all about. But I can't say it, can't speak. I didn't know that Merrill thought so ill of herself. Maker save me; did I do this to her?
At my silence, Merrill hangs her head with an expression of abject misery and looks away, half turning towards the doorway as though to leave. Andraste! I can't let her leave, I won't. She said she didn't want me to leave her. I won't let her go. I finally force myself to speak, to move. Perhaps I can say more with fewer words.
I reach out and cup Merrill's beautiful face in my hand, turning her back towards me, gently raising her head and stroking a thumb across the dark lines of her vallaslin; trying to communicate all my faith, my ardour, my love into that one simple, tender gesture. Merrill closes her eyes at my touch, but she smiles; a small, tremulous smile, but it's there. Maybe it worked. Andraste, I hope so.
I smile lovingly back at her. "Merrill…" I whisper, my voice alive with love and hope as I look at her. The beat of my heart, the strength of my soul. My light in the dark. "It's alright." I promise.
Merrill leans her head into my palm for a moment, and my heart skips with a sweet, almost painful jolt at the pressure, the warmth, the feel of her soft skin beneath my fingers. She opens her eyes and they fill as she gazes up at me, not with tears, but with light, her pure, shining light; her face radiant with hope and joy as she smiles at me shyly, wonderingly. My breath catches in my throat. Maker, but she's beautiful. There's nothing I want more at this moment than to fold her in my arms but it's she who moves first, throwing herself at me, wrapping her slender arms around my neck and stretching up to kiss me; as sweetly fierce as our first kiss, back in her house before all of this happened. A new start. A second chance.
I hold her tightly against me, wanting to feel her as close as possible. I am close to dying with happiness, I'm sure. She came to me. She's here. She didn't leave. This is real.
In my wildest dreams, I never truly believed I could be so lucky.
xxx M xxx
I can't believe I thought I could ever leave her, even for her own good. I can't. I'm not strong enough.
I don't want to be.
She hugs me close, and I feel warm, and happy, and safe, so safe. Nothing else matters right now, there's just us, just this, and I never want to be apart from her again. Never. I love her. I want to stay this close to her forever. I want to be closer, even. I want...
I want...
Her.
I clasp my arms around her neck more tightly as I stretch up to press my cheek against hers, whispering into her ear.
"Hawke... I'm ready, now."
She breathes in once, deeply, and relaxes her hold on me, just a little, so she can look into my eyes. She wants to make sure I mean it, I suppose. Understandable, really, but she needn't worry. If I've ever been certain of anything before, ever, I am certain of this, now.
"Are you sure, Merrill?" she asks softly.
I gaze back at her steadily. "I am sure, Hawke." I raise my hand, and lay it gently against the smooth, warm skin of her cheek. "I want this. I do. I... I want you, ma vhenan."
The words sound so clumsy coming from me, at least I think so, but Hawke's eyes become very wide as I speak them, all big and dark as she gazes at me. She raises her hand and places it over mine on her cheek, turning her head and brushing her lips against my palm, and then she reaches out and pulls me toward her, kissing me on the mouth, softly at first, but then it deepens and intensifies until I'm certain that if she wasn't holding me up, I'd fall straight down to the ground, the way my knees are trembling.
She breaks away eventually and draws back to stare at me with a look in her eyes I've never seen before, stirring a strange sort of feeling deep inside me in answer. It's like... like... a deep, consuming hunger, although... not exactly. More like a sort of... fiery longing, a burning need... My chest rises and falls rapidly as I gaze back at her, shivering a little under the hot intensity of her gaze, and then she bends suddenly, slipping one arm beneath my shoulders and the other under my legs, sweeping me into her arms, holding me close. I gasp in surprise, throwing my arms about her neck and gazing up at her, blushing fiercely.
"You're so strong, Hawke!"
She laughs, her voice sounding low and rough. Husky. It's... wonderful. "Not really. You're just feather-light," she says, smiling as she kisses me again, cradling me against her; not like a child, of course not, but like something just as precious, just as treasured. Just as... loved. I close my eyes and lean into her kiss, holding onto her tightly.
She pulls away reluctantly after a moment and lifts her head, so she can see where she's going, I suppose. It would rather spoil the moment if she tripped on something and fell over. That's much more something I would do. I rest my head against her shoulder, letting her carry me through her empty house. Well, empty except for her sweet, silly dog, who looks up from his place lying by the fire, furry ears perked up as he watches us. He's curious to see what his human is doing, I suppose. So am I, actually. Where is she taking me? I lift my head, just a little, as she starts up the stairs, heading for... heading for her bedroom, of course she is, Merrill, where did you think it would happen? I bury my face in her throat and breathe her in, trying to quell my nervousness, my foolish fears. I want this, I do, I just... I am afraid. She said it was alright, that it is only natural, and I know it will be wonderful. Hawke could be nothing less. She said it was alright to be scared. She said... she told me she was scared, the first time, too. I shouldn't be afraid, not with Hawke, never.
But, still... I am.
She carries me slowly along the landing and down the corridor towards her room, her footsteps soft and careful; her feet barely making more than a whisper against the stone. She's so quiet without boots on. Why isn't she wearing any, though? Usually she wears them even inside. She isn't wearing her usual house robe, either; this one is deep blue silk, and very thin, and... her hair is wet, just a little. Did she have a bath? Then this is a bathrobe she has on. So... does that mean... she's bare, beneath it? I suddenly feel very aware of just how closely I am pressed to her, and just how thin her robe is. And me not wearing my chainmail... there's hardly anything between us. Just thin layers of fabric... I can feel the heat of her body against mine where I'm cradled against her, feel the swift rise and fall of her chest, hear the pounding rhythm of her heart. It's so wild, almost frantic, as though Hawke is as nervous as I am. But she's... she's done this before, hasn't she? Or is she nervous because of me? She shouldn't be. Whatever happens, whatever is supposed to happen, Hawke will make it wonderful, I know she will. I do sort of wish I'd had another look at Isabela's books before now, though...
Hawke enters her bedroom and sets me gently on my feet before the fire, kissing my forehead softly before going and closing her door, sliding the bolt home with an audible click. We're completely alone, now; alone and safely secure from intrusion. That ought to make me feel less anxious, shouldn't it? But it doesn't, somehow; if anything it makes me feel even more nervous. This is really happening. I don't want to be nervous. I look around her bedroom; I've only been inside it once, when Hawke showed me around after she first bought her house. We mostly stayed in the front room when I came here after that, or in Hawke's small library. Usually she came to visit me, though. It is a very nice room, nearly as big as my whole house! I run my eyes over everything; the fine paintings on the walls; her tiny cluttered writing desk in the corner; the tall, elegantly carved wooden wardrobes; her big, soft bed...
Quickly, I turn towards the fireplace as another bout of nerves sets me to trembling again; and I find myself gazing up at the decorative shield high on the wall, above the mantle. I look up at it, trying to calm myself as I hear Hawke moving to stand behind me. I can feel her warmth against my back...
"That's your mother's family crest, isn't it?" I say without thinking. "I heard her say it was supposed to be an eagle, though I suppose it can be a hawk now, can't it? I think it looks a bit like a griffon, too, if you sort of close your eyes a bit when you look at it. I always wanted a little baby griffon as a pet, you know." I'm babbling again, rambling childish nonsense, Creators, why? Why now? Is it a punishment for losing my heart to one who is not of the People? I cannot choose who I fall in love with. And I would not choose differently if I could. Oh, why can't I stop talking? "I'd name him Feathers, and then when he got big enough I could ride on his back, just like the Wardens in all the old stories-"
Hawke silences me with a light touch of fingertips on the nape of my neck, letting them run lightly across my skin as she walks around to stand before me, trailing her fingers along my throat until she tenderly cups my cheek in her hand again and rests her thumb gently over my lips, locking the flood of nervous words behind them.
"It's alright," she says again, softly, her eyes kind and bright and beautiful, and suddenly all my doubts vanish, my fears are calmed. It is alright, everything is alright, and it always will be. There's nothing at all to fear, as long as I'm with her.
I step in closer to her body and rest my hands on her shoulders, tilting my face up towards her and she responds just as I want her to, bringing her other hand up to cradle my head between her palms as she leans down to kiss me, slowly, softly, and oh, so sweetly I feel I can hardly breathe. I feel a bit dizzy too, all of a sudden, and I sway against her, tiny little spots of light dancing across my eyes. Hawke's arms slip down to hold me, circling my waist supportively and she pulls back to examine me worriedly for a moment as I blink at her, trying to focus. I start to apologise, feeling foolish, but she just gives me a little shake of her head and a small smile, and suddenly I feel her mana flowing through her; from deep within her, through her arms, her hands, her fingertips and into me, and I gasp as I feel the gashes and half-knitted scars on my hands and arms begin to heal. I look down in surprise; I thought maybe I was just dizzy and breathless from the kiss, which would hardly be out of the ordinary, but... I suppose I must have forgotten about all my cuts, from before. From working on the eluvian. Her magic fills me, suffusing my entire body in its warmth, Creators, it's a wondrous sensation. I suddenly feel better than I have felt for days as she replenishes and strengthens my blood from within me, closing the wounds on my palms and wrists and forearms, mending them so that the skin is almost completely smooth and unblemished, leaving only the faintest suggestion of scars. Her magic fades gradually, returning to her, but the wonderful tingling feeling remains inside me, thrumming through my whole body. I feel wonderful, now; warm and strong, and... bold. Oh, yes, very bold. I curl my hand about the back of her neck and draw her head down to me for a deep, sweet kiss, and her arms tighten about me, one hand coming up to rest gently against my cheek once more. I love it when she does that; it's such a tender gesture, it makes me feel... precious. Cherished.
Loved.
But I want more.
I break the kiss and lock gazes with her as she meets my eyes questioningly. I don't say anything. I just let my hand slip from her shoulder and run lightly down her arm until at last our fingers meet, and I grasp them tightly, stepping slowly backwards, back towards the bed I know is right behind me. Her bed. I did not plan this, and even now I don't know what I'm doing, not really, I'm just sort of... acting on instinct, I suppose. All I know, all that matters, is that I want this. I want her. I want to touch her, I want her to touch me, want to feel her close against my body, feel her warm, soft skin against mine. I tug gently on her hand without looking away, and she follows me quietly, her eyes wide and dark, just like before, blue flames glinting deep within them as the firelight flickers over the flushed skin of her cheeks and I feel that odd, almost hungry feeling again, just below my stomach... no, lower, much lower than that; a strange sort of eagerness and yearning, a need, an ache such as I've never felt before, not... like this. I gaze deeply into Hawke's eyes as I struggle to put a name to it...
...desire...
... and then the backs of my legs brush against the mattress, and I sit without letting go of Hawke, shifting a little to move myself further up on the bed as she stands before me, gazing down at me with such an expression in her eyes; wonder, hope, joy, longing, and I can't look away from her, I don't want to, anyway. I lie back, holding her gaze as she moves over me, above me, lowering her body slowly onto mine with loving, tender care. She gently draws the scarf away from around my neck, dropping it onto the floor beside the bed as her mouth finds my throat, her lips seeking out the place beneath my ear, that wonderful little place I never knew was there, and I shiver and gasp, closing my eyes as she kisses into it gently. My arms come up to hold her as she runs her fingers through my hair, and then her lips find mine again and again.
I don't know what comes next, not exactly. I don't know what to do. I'm not afraid, not anymore, not really, but... well, I suppose I am still a little nervous, if I'm honest. And... I need her to help me, to tell me... I pull back a little, and look into her face. She gazes back at me, just waiting with a small, warm smile.
"Hawke... I don't know what to..."
"Shhhh, Merrill," she whispers, bending down to kiss my throat again and I cling to her helplessly at the feel of her warm lips caressing my skin. "I know," she murmurs between kisses. "It's alright. You don't have to do anything. Let me show you." Her mouth brushes against the rim of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine, and my eyes flutter closed. "Do you trust me?" she whispers.
"Yes," I breathe, and I feel her lips curve in a smile.
She raises herself up, just a little, so that she can stare into my eyes, once I manage to open them again. "All the choices are yours to make," she says quietly. "You only have to tell me to stop, and I will."
I gaze back at her steadily. "I don't want you to stop, ma vhenan."
She sits up completely, and I sit up too, looking at her in a little confusion. I... I said I didn't want her to stop, didn't I? Why did she...
Hawke sees my expression, and smiles again, gently, kneeling in front of me and stroking my cheek softly with her fingertips, and then she takes my hands in hers and guides them to the thin silk belt about her waist, placing my fingers over the knot meaningfully and I bite my lip as I realise what she wants me to do. Of course, we... we can't very well do this clothed, can we? I have seen her unclothed before after all, once; when she saved me in Lowtown when those men tried to.. to hurt me, years ago, and she gave me her robe afterwards... but... she was still wearing smallclothes, then. It's not like... like this time. And this is... this is all so very different. Even so, remembering that I have seen her almost bare... it helps me not to be so nervous about it now, somehow.
I take a breath and pull gently at the knot, which unravels quite easily in spite of the way my fingers are trembling. Her robe falls open a little, revealing a hint of lovely lily-pale skin and the curve of her breast and I fall still, my eyes riveted on that small, very tantalising gap and what lies beyond it. I was right. She is completely bare beneath... I can't look away. Hawke gives what sounds like a tiny laugh under her breath and takes my hands again, pulling them gently towards her and shifting a little closer to meet me as she draws them into the opening of her robe. Slowly, she places my palms on either side of her body, against her flat stomach, just beneath her breasts, pressing them against her warm skin. My breath hitches at the contact and I hold perfectly still in wonder, feeling the heat of her and the slight, gentle motion of her rapid breathing beneath my hands. She lets me go and lowers her arms to her sides, leaving me free to touch her; to roam, wander, explore. I move my fingers up her body a little, stroking gently over the skin of her stomach up to her ribs, and I start to feel a little bolder, again, a little braver. Her skin is so warm, and soft, and mostly smooth; although I can feel a few raised lines and nicks in places where she has taken a stray arrow or assassin's blade. They are part of her; marks of her courage, her endurance, her strength.
Beautiful.
I let my hands slide down her sides and down to her waist, my breath quickening at the feel of firm, toned muscle beneath my fingers. I can hear her breathing, too; her breaths are coming almost as fast as mine are, now. I withdraw my hands, raising them instead to the neck of her robe, tearing my gaze away from what little I can see of her body and meeting her eyes as I silently ask her permission to do more, to see more. I want to see all of her. She nods, just once, her lips curved in a gentle smile, and I hesitantly push the robe back over her shoulders and then down her arms. She shrugs a little and slips completely out of it as I do so, and then lets it fall, pooling behind her on the bed and I see her, all of her, for the first time, and she's beautiful, more so than I ever could have dreamed.
I reach for her again, resting my hands against her hips, caressing her bare skin and this time she reaches out as well, cupping the back of my head with one hand and drawing me into a deep kiss, curling her other arm about my waist, pulling me closer. I let my own hands roam a little as I return her kiss, one sliding around her waist to rest in the small of her back as the other wanders slowly up her bare side, past her waist, over her ribs, and then, shyly, I cup her breast in my palm, marvelling at the velvet softness of her skin beneath my fingers. Creators, she's so lovely!
She makes a tiny sound, a little moan, and breaks away, smiling into my eyes. Then her gaze leaves my face and she looks down at my body for a moment, at my clothing, and then back up at me. Oh. My turn, I suppose. A small ball of anxiety starts to burn inside me and I drop my hands, clasping my fingers together in my lap, twisting them nervously.
Hawke strokes her fingers along my bare arm, her mouth curved in a gentle smile as she gazes at me. "No chainmail, tonight," she says softly.
I look down at myself, although I already know what I'm wearing, of course; just a pair of dark brown leggings beneath my favourite green tunic. "N-no," I reply, although she wasn't really asking a question. She can see I'm not wearing it, after all. I cringe inside my head as my voice trembles, and of course, I start babbling again. "I don't usually wear it inside my house, unless I plan to go somewhere; it can get quite heavy, and hot, you see, not to mention rather uncomfortable. And it can take quite a while to get it on sometimes, and when I came here tonight... I didn't want to waste any time." I bite my lips to stop my rambling and then look up at her once I've managed to calm myself, a bit. "I just wanted to see you."
"And I'm so happy you came," she whispers, smiling at me. She doesn't look nervous at all, or embarrassed, even though she's completely bare and exposed before me. She has no reason to be though, does she? She's lovely. She reaches out to smooth her hand over my hair, tucking a few loose strands behind my ear and then she lowers her arm slowly, her fingers gently coming to rest on the hem of my tunic. She gazes into my eyes. "May I?"
I nod slowly; I do want her to, I do, but she hesitates, watching me. She must have seen something in my eyes, some of my anxiousness, and the childish fear I am trying so hard to suppress.
"Merrill?" Hawke says, her voice quiet. "Are you nervous?"
I bite my lip and nod again.
She holds still, watching me for a moment, and then takes one of my hands in hers. "It's alright. I understand. But there's no reason to be." She smiles a little as she looks at me. "I've already seen you naked once before, at your request. In your house, some time ago now. Do you remember?"
She... she has? When? At my request... oh. Of course. That same night in Lowtown, when she healed me... and then after, when I asked her to... to bathe me...
I blush a little at the memory, and her smile widens. "Merrill... you have absolutely nothing to be nervous about." She holds my eyes intently, sincerely. "You are beautiful."
And this time, I believe her.
"Do you want me to stop?" she asks softly, and I know that she would, if I asked her. If I wanted her to.
But I do not want her to stop. I don't speak, or answer; I just take both of her hands in mine and place them on the hem of my tunic, then I slowly raise my arms and she takes my meaning immediately, gently taking my tunic in her fingers and pulling it slowly up over my head, letting it fall beside my scarf on the floor. Her hands drift to my breastband and slowly, carefully, she begins to unwind it. I shiver when the cloth falls away at last, fighting the ridiculous urge to cross my arms over my uncovered chest, but Hawke doesn't give me time to grow nervous again; she leans forward and kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my lips, and then her hands are on my shoulders, her touch so light, so gentle as she encourages me to lie back against the pillows on her bed. She gently runs her fingertips down my sides, her nails leaving long light trails of shivery fire over my skin. My breath quickens as her fingers find the waistband of my leggings, and she looks at me with an unspoken question in her eyes, still making every step my choice, like she promised. I bite my lip and raise my hips a little, expectantly, slowly nodding my consent, and the fabric whispers over my skin as she draws the leggings down, taking all my remaining fears and doubts with them, along with my smallclothes, and then I'm bare, just as she is.
"Oh, Merrill," she whispers, awe in her voice as she stares down at me, and I feel beautiful beneath her wide-eyed gaze.
Beautiful, bare, free, and unafraid.
xxx H xxx
Oh, Maker help me, I'm terrified.
I've never been anyone's first, before. This has to be right, perfect. I have to control myself, have to be tender, thoughtful, delicate. It doesn't help at all that she's so wholly and utterly captivating. I can feel my fierce desire pulsing through me as I look at her, lying there; this fey, beautiful being lying bare beneath me in my bed, looking up at me with such open adoration, such faith, such trust. I have to control it, restrain myself. Not overwhelm her, or frighten her. I'm just so awfully nervous about making a mess of this. Her first time...
Slowly. Gentle, careful. Don't get this wrong.
I look down at her for a few moments more; at her small, perfect body; her irresistible alabaster skin, her gentle curves, her small, high, perfectly round breasts and my heart races uncontrollably. I need to feel her skin against mine.
Breathe. Slowly.
Her head turns and her eyes follow mine as I lay down beside her, quietly watching me, completely trusting and unafraid. I smile gently at her, lovingly, trying to hide my own growing nervousness, and slowly lift my hand to her cheek, running the tips of my fingers lightly over her smooth skin, tracing the intricate, beautiful curving lines of her vallaslin. Merrill smiles, and I let my hand trail along her throat, over her shoulder and then down her smooth side, stroking my hand gently over her bare skin; long, slow caresses from the side of her breast, down and over the curve of her hip to the top of her slender thigh and then back again. Just a gentle, soothing touch, letting her grow accustomed to the feel of skin against skin, easing her into this new level of intimacy and closeness. Her breath quickens, and at length she reaches for me, pulling me against her body, and I know she's ready for more.
I move slowly onto her, gazing into her eyes, consumed with wonder at her softness, her warmth; the brush of skin on skin like satin on silk as we lie heart to heart. Her arms curl tighter around me, exploring, and I lower my head down to her, my mouth brushing hers gently at first; the barest feathery touch of soft lips meeting and parting and meeting again. I feel her fingers drift up between my shoulder blades to rest against the back of my neck and she presses down insistently, parting her lips and pulling me to her as she deepens the kiss, making pleased little noises; sounds of delight, of need. Maker, it's driving me wild.
I break away at last and return my mouth to the soft, supple skin of her throat, inhaling deeply, immersing myself in her sweet scent and then I trail a line of slow kisses down over her shoulders, her collarbone, down to her chest, kissing the gentle swell of one small breast as I softly caress the other, letting my thumb drift lightly over the little rosy tip at its peak. My lips find the other tiny nub of delicate pink flesh and I take it gently into my mouth, tasting, teasing, feeling it harden under my lips, beneath the tip of my tongue. Merrill tangles her fingers in my hair, holding me against her, whispering my name over and over in a litany of wonder; urging my passion, my want, my desire to near uncontrollable heights.
I kiss the underside of her breast, revelling in the heat of her against my lips as I move lower, kissing down over her stomach, my tongue flickering fleetingly into her navel, making her gasp and shiver as her hands ball into little fists, still tangling and raking through my hair, and then I raise myself up a little, hearing her small intake of breath and tiny whimper of protest as my lips leave her; a sound that tells me unequivocally that I'm getting it right, thank the Maker. I sit back and look into her face, watching as she slowly opens her tightly closed eyes to search for me, her hands falling to lie limply beside her, chest gently heaving with excited little breaths. She's ready. Her eyes meet mine, and I lean forward a little, resting my hands gently on the top of her thighs, my thumbs gently stroking her skin, and then I wait, holding her gaze.
Her decision. Every step.
Slowly, shyly, Merrill opens herself to me, and I lean back over her, kissing her mouth as I let my hand slide up her inner thigh to touch her gently, capturing her startled gasp with my lips on hers as I move against her, slowly at first, but gently increasing and intensifying until at last she gives a moan deep in her throat, rocking against me instinctively, insistently, her hands coming up to stroke my back, seeking more contact, demanding more touch, more of me, and I obey; moving before she tightens her embrace, lips gliding down her body, kissing a path between her breasts, then down over her taut stomach until I kneel before her, my hands slipping beneath her bent legs to catch a firm but gentle hold of her slender hips and I let my mouth take over, marvelling at the warmth of her, the taste of her, finding the sensitive, delicate little nub of bundled ready nerves at her core. She gasps and trembles, and I smile a little as I let her small sounds guide me, coaxing her, bringing her gradually to the crest of that wondrous wave.
Merrill begins crying out softly, tiny little hitches of breath and whispers of sound, her hips bucking a little in time to my movements, and I feel the muscles beneath the smooth skin of her slender waist and tight stomach contract under my fingertips as my ministrations intensify, small shivery tremors running the length of her body. She clutches at the bed sheets, drawing in air in sharp, shallow breaths, and then at last she gives a little cry, a gasp, a small astonished sound of pleasure, her hands gripping the sheet beneath her even tighter as her back arches, her entire body tautening, trembling, and then she gradually relaxes with a gentle sigh, breathless with wonder.
"Oh...ma vhenan..." she breathes, a smile of surprised delight curving her sweet rosy lips as she whispers those mysterious, enchanting elven words.
I crawl back up to lay down beside her and she curls into me as we lie facing each other, wrapping her arms tight about me, tucking her head beneath my chin, making me smile as I kiss the top of her head gently. I think... I think it went well, for all I was so nervous. I wanted to make her first night a pleasant memory, above all else, and I think I managed it, so... I am content. This night was about her; that is enough for me-
Merrill lifts her head and kisses me, abruptly ending my train of thought, and she pushes me gently onto my back, resting her body against mine, one hand caressing my cheek while the other rests lightly against my hip, fingers stroking softly. I kiss her back eagerly once I get over the surprise. She recovers quickly, it seems.
Her small hand drifts up my side and cups my breast...
Maker!
... and she learns fast, too...
Oh!
Her thumb brushes gently over my nipple before wandering to the other, stirring the already sparking embers within me as she mimics my movements, exploring my body with gentle caresses, my breasts, my ribs, my stomach...
Oh, Maker's breath...
... my hips, my thighs...
Merrill...
...and then her hand comes up to meet me and her first gentle, exploratory touch is all it takes to take me right to the edge, impassioned and ready as I am; a few moments more, listening to her soft sounds of pleasure, of rapture, of ecstasy as she kisses me with a sweet, ardent passion all of her own, her lips on my mouth, my cheek, my throat, her tender, fervent, eager movements, touching, stroking, caressing...
Oh, Merrill...
...and then I'm tumbling over into the abyss, falling off the edge of the world, quivering, crying out her name, hearing her surprised, delighted giggle sound sweetly in my ears as I tremble against her. I lay limply against the pillows as my breathing slows, and Merrill holds me, cuddling against my side, curling her arm about my neck to comb her fingers softly through my hair, and I caress her slender arm with a gentle, tender touch, slipping my other arm about her waist and pressing her small body to mine. Maker, she's incredible...
I close my eyes, lost and in heaven, completely caught up in the magic of the moment, the magic of her, and I hold her close, wanting nothing more than to lie right here, spent; listening to her gentle breathing; feeling her pressed against my side; enveloped in warmth, contentment, wonder. Love.
And for the first time, I feel... whole. Whole, and truly, unbelievably happy.
I feel joyful. Blissful.
I feel...
Complete.
xxx M xxx
That was... I've never felt... I never dreamed... oh, Hawke...
We lie in slence for a long time, just holding each other. That's all I want to do, now, just hold her, forever. Well, maybe do other things, too...
Oh, yes... I would very much like to do that again, soon. It was just such... such an incredible, breathtaking feeling; warmth, heat, tingling fire all over me, pressure building and building inside me, and then... oh! Flashes of white searing light beneath my eyelids and then that sweet, wondrous, magical sensation, spreading through my whole body... It was... beautiful. I never could have imagined anything like this. I certainly never pictured myself in this situation, with anyone. Well... maybe I did picture myself with Hawke, doing... things, although my foolish and woefully limited imaginings... well, they were nothing like this. Not even close. And it was also very different to anything in any of the pictures Isabela showed me, in all her dirty books. Fewer people, for one thing, and much less complicated, but... a lot nicer, I think. Hawke was... wonderful, just as I thought, and then... when I did for her what she did for me, made her feel as I felt... that was... I have no words, but, well... I just... I thank Mythal and all the Creators that I learn so quickly.
So... what comes next? I never even thought about what would happen... after. With me, and Hawke. What... what do we do now, after this? What does this make us?
I take a breath and break the silence, comfortable as it was. I only hope I don't ruin everything, with what I'm trying to say.
"What happens now? Are we..." I pause, suddenly at a loss for words. Are we... what? Bonded? Promised? Together? Anything? I don't know if there's a proper name for what I'm trying to ask. I look over at her and find her watching me patiently, suddenly feeling myself being drawn into those pools of liquid lightning, which is lovely, of course, but also quite distracting, just now. I was... I was trying to ask her something... wasn't I? What was it... what...oh! Yes. Us. Right.
"What... what did this mean?" I manage at last.
Hawke looks back at me seriously. "Now, you and I both decide what happens next. Together," she replies gently, her fingers tracing softly along my arm as she gazes into my eyes, my soul. Then a wicked half-smile lights her face. "Although, we may have to do that a few more times before we can really figure it all out properly. Just to be absolutely certain," she says, turning her head to gaze up at the pretty whorling pattern on the wooden underside of the bed canopy above us. "As for what it meant, well, to me... it meant everything."
Oh! Well, that may not have answered my question, exactly, but... I think it will do, quite well enough. Perhaps there is no word for what we are to each other, now. We are what we are. Whatever happens next, we will discover it together.
Together, then. Her, and me. Both of us. Together.
I like the sound of that.
I gaze at Hawke for a few moments more, feeling my heart swell at the honest emotion in her quiet words, at the beauty of her profile, at the memory, Creators, the wonderful memory of... of what we just did, together; the careful tenderness in her every gentle touch, every movement, every caress filled with care and feeling. Her laughter, her smiles, her kisses... Oh...
She made it so, so wonderful. So beautiful. Just as I knew she would.
"I love you!" I exclaim suddenly, fervently, before I even know what I said. She looks back at me with widening eyes, not saying anything, and I bite my lip and look away in embarrassment. Oh, Creators have mercy; that was awkward. How is it I always manage to spoil the moment? "I... probably shouldn't have said that, should I? I'm sorry, I always say the most painfully stupid things-"
She moves, suddenly, cupping my cheek and gently turning my head back towards her before stopping my words with a deep, lingering kiss. I take a moment to react, I'm still taken by surprise that this is happening, I suppose, but then I respond eagerly, curling my fingers in her soft black hair, losing myself in her embrace.
"You don't say stupid things," she says softly when she finally pulls back. She holds me tightly and strokes my arm, gazing into my eyes. "You say wonderful things. I love you too, Merrill." She... she loves me. Hawke loves me. My heart stills at hearing those words. I wished and hoped to hear them, but I suppose, deep down, I never really believed I would. Which was silly of me really, wasn't it? Especially now, after everything we've said to each other, and after... after this. But still... she said it. She said love; not just like, or care, but love. I mean, I did already know that she... that she loves me, I did, but... we hadn't really said it to each other up til now, not quite. Both of us too shy, too timid. Such idiots; this whole time, or near enough. Mythal, it's so wonderful to hear those words.
She loves me.
Hawke takes a deep breath, and the look in her eyes completely entrances me as she opens her mouth to say it again. "I love you. I always have. From the moment I met you, I was lost. I want to be yours, if you'll have me."
I find I can only stare at her mutely, her words rendering me utterly voiceless with wonder. From the moment she met me? Really? But I started babbling like a fool the instant she tried to talk to me, asking her if it was rude to ask a human their name, of all completely ridiculous things, and then I was short with her when she asked me why I was leaving the clan, rude, even, and then, Elgar'nan, as if all that wasn't enough, I even told her I was sort of scared of humans. Well, maybe not in those words, exactly, but I might as well have.
From the moment I met you, I was lost... oh, by the Creators...
I try to speak, to tell her how wonderful she is, how I feel exactly, but my voice betrays me. She loves me. Despite everything, and against all odds, she loves me. I can still hardly believe it.
I want to be yours, if you'll have me.
Of course I will. Mythal, nothing could ever keep me from her, not again. And she... she has worked so hard to get where she is, and she doesn't even care that being with me, with an elf... it will almost certainly turn the other nobles here against her, and well... I've heard how dangerous that can be, amongst humans. Well... anyone, really. People don't like it, when things are different. But Hawke knows all this already, and she doesn't care. She just loves me. I've done nothing to deserve someone like her. I don't know if anyone ever could.
Hawke gazes at me, her eyes growing anxious.
"What is it?" she asks softly. She sounds worried. "Merrill, what's the matter?"
I realise I've been silent, probably for quite a while, just sort of... staring at her. Oh, by the Creators, start talking, Merrill, say something!
"Nothing, Hawke," I tell her gently, trying to be reassuring. Mythal, I'm making such a mess of this! I stroke my hand through her hair as I try to explain myself. "I was just thinking... I know it doesn't matter to you, just like I don't care what my clan would think of us, together... and I really don't," I say firmly, realising I haven't actually told her so yet, not in so many words, anyway. She smiles at me, and I take a breath before I go on. "But... a human, and a noble at that, with an elf? You know what we'll face. You're... You're really not afraid?" I know that she is not. I don't really know why I'm asking, I just... I want to hear it. I want to hear the love in her voice, see the expression in her eyes, when she looks at me in that way she does, like there is nothing and no one else anywhere in the whole world. She never looks at anyone else that way, not ever.
Hawke says nothing for a moment; she just tilts her head and smiles a little, gazing at me with her sparkling, magical eyes, and I feel as though I've never really seen them before, at all. Oh, Mythal, such eyes!
"No," Hawke says at last. "I'm not afraid of that. Not in the least. I love you, Merrill. I need you. I don't ever want to be apart from you, not for a second longer than I have to." She cups my cheek tenderly in her hand, and I close my eyes blissfully, leaning into her caress. "In fact," Hawke continues in a husky whisper, "I was thinking of scandalising the neighbours by having my Dalish lover move in."
"Move in where?" I ask absently. I am a bit distracted at the moment, after all.
She laughs quietly. "Here, Merrill. I want you to live here, with me."
My eyes snap open in surprise, and I look at her sharply. "Here, in Hightown? The rich, fancy part of the city with no rats in it?" Oh, the humans will not like that, not one bit! "Are you... are you sure that's really a good idea?" I ask, trying not to sound nervous.
Hawke smiles into my eyes. "It's either that, or I move into the alienage with you. If you'd really miss your furry friends that much."
I laugh, and nuzzle my head into the hollow of her throat. "Ma vhenan, you really are crazy, aren't you?"
"If you didn't know that before now, my love, then you haven't been paying close enough attention," Hawke teases, stroking my cheek.
My love. That's what she called me. I'm her love. And she... she is my heart. Ma vhenan. I giggle again, softly, cuddling even closer into her side, still marvelling that I can, that she's letting me, that she wants me to. After everything, she still wants to be with me. My Hawke. She really is mine. And I'm hers.
Oh, yes, I am hers. Completely.
"Alright, if you're not afraid, then... neither am I, ma vhenan," I whisper, listening to her heartbeat, enraptured. If she doesn't care what the humans think, then I don't either. There is nothing to fear. She will keep us safe.
She kisses my brow softly, her arms tightening around me, and lays her cheek down tenderly on the top of my head. I could die now. Although I'd rather not, really, but if I did die, here in her arms, surely I could never be happier than I am right at this moment, even if I live a hundred years.
"What is it you keep calling me?" Hawke asks curiously after a little while, her hand moving up to toy with the braids in my hair.
I blush, suddenly shy. I suppose I hadn't really expected her to ask me straight out like this. I have been saying it rather a lot, I know, but I can't help it, really. I just like to say it. I guess I'd better tell her. She won't mind, will she? "M-ma vhenan. It... it's elven."
She strokes a finger gently along the rim of my ear, laughing softly. "Well, yes, I did manage to figure that much out for myself, somehow. But what does it mean?"
"Well, it... it means..." I hesitate, and then lift my hand and place it softly beside my cheek where it rests against her chest, feeling the steady throbbing beneath my fingers, listening to the gentle rhythmic pulse. "Ma vhenan means... 'my heart'," I whisper. "My love, my life. The reason I breathe."
I hear her soft intake of breath, feel the beat of her heart increase rapidly, and then she puts two fingers gently beneath my chin and lifts my head, leaning down to kiss me fiercely, passionately and yet, somehow, tenderly and sweetly as well. I've no idea how she manages to do all of that at once. I slip my hand up to rest against the back of her neck, drawing myself closer to her, accepting her kiss and returning it with all my heart, all my love. And I have so much, for her. Emma lath, ma vhenan.
Hawke pulls back eventually and lays her head down on the pillow, gazing at me. She holds me for a few moments, silently tracing the vallaslin on my cheek with her fingertips, then surprises me suddenly by sitting up and reaching for something in the chest of drawers by the bed. When she turns back to face me, she holds a small cloth-wrapped bundle in her hands. "There is something I should give you," she says quietly, but firmly.
Is this... is this normal, after...after lovemaking? Oh, no, was I supposed to get her something too? Or is it just a human thing, in which case maybe she doesn't expect me to have gotten her anything? Should I ask her, or would that just ruin it completely? Oh, stop it, now, just shut up and pay attention, Merrill!
She lays the bundle before me, and I watch her, mystified, as she slowly unfolds the cloth. I take a sharp, quiet breath and raise my hand to my mouth as she finishes unwinding it; as I see what lies inside.
The arulin'holm.
Hawke stares down at it for a few moments, then takes a shaking breath and raises her head to look at me. "Merrill, I'm... so, so sorry I tried to keep this from you. As you said, I had no right to do so. I may not like what you're doing, but it is your decision. I realise that now. If I take it from you, I take away your right to choose. I was wrong. I kept it from you because...because..." She lowers her eyes, her voice dropping to hardly more than a whisper. "I was just... scared. I'm so scared, Merrill. I love you so much; more than I ever knew it was possible to love someone, and I'm terrified of losing you in the worst possible way. I didn't want to even entertain the possibility that a demon could take you; that all that you are; everything bright and pure and radiant and good could be warped and twisted by a force I can do nothing to fight until... until it's too late. I can't lose you, Merrill. " She looks up into my eyes, seemingly unaware of the tears running down her cheeks as she takes my face gently in her hands and whispers; "I can't lose the light of my world."
I close my eyes at that, my heart shivering within me at the desperate sound of her voice, the fearful look in her eyes, and then I throw myself at her, wrapping my arms tightly around her neck, stroking her hair and kissing away her tears. "Oh, Hawke. You will not lose me, ma vhenan, I swear to you. I know what this means to you. I'll be careful, I promise."
She holds me close for a long moment, before pulling back a little to gaze into my face. "I know you will, but... I still think there must be a better way - a safer way - to mend the mirror than with blood magic. I won't stop you from using it if you need to, but... there must be other options somewhere, surely. We just have to find out what they are, and then... you won't need blood magic any more. Will you... will you let me help you? Perhaps we can find a better way together."
Together.
I nod, although I don't believe there is any other way. I researched every possible method I could find that might have had a chance of working before accepting Audacity's aid, after all, but... if will ease her mind about it... "I would like that," I tell her softly. She smiles.
I take the arulin'holm and lay it carefully aside. It is mine now, and I will make use of it, once I am sure the eluvian is safe and unharmed, but I will say no more to Hawke about it, and I will never let her see me using the arulin'holm or my blood magic again, not if I can help it. I know how Hawke must feel about the arulin'holm and... and everything; how much it must have cost her to relent. I cannot abandon my work; it will help me restore so much of my peoples' heritage, and this is the only way I can get the mirror to work again, I am sure of it. Unless we can find a way together... But until then, there is no point in rubbing Hawke's nose in it. The last thing I want to do is hurt her; any more than I have already, at least. All those terrible things I said to her back in the alienage... and yet here she is, still here with me, loving me. It's like a wonderful dream, only it's real. It is.
I turn back to her, feeling a sudden powerful rush of love and adoration and... rapture. Joy. Passion.
Hunger.
"Ma serannas, ma vhenan," I say softly; hardly recognising my own voice in the low, breathy whisper that purrs from my throat as I reach for her, and she holds out her arms for me, too, smiling, kissing me softly, lovingly; one hand raking through my hair as the other moves slowly over my skin, making me shiver all over, right down to my toes, gliding down my body in a wonderful, gentle, eager caress. I cling to her, pressing myself to her as closely as I can as she lies back down on the bed and pulls me with her, needing to feel her against me again, still caught up in the sheer wonder of knowing that she wants me, needs me.
Loves me.
Hawke loves me.