A World Without Shadows

by maximasdecimas

Lowtown is a dangerous place at night. When Merrill is attackeded by thugs, Hawke comes to save her, but Merrill is shaken by her ordeal. Can Hawke make everything better with a smile, and save the day twice in one night? What will come of it? A story of love spanning three acts. Hurt/comfort, and romance. Mage F!Hawke/Merrill #TRIGGER WARNING - Violence, Attempted sexual assault

18. Chapter 18

Next chapter is up... in which Merrill meets Feathers! Apart from baby griffon hi-jinx and fluffiness, this is otherwise a comfort chapter, since you've already seen the hurt. Also, it was suggested by Talitha2 that I write a little something more about Merrill's vallaslin, which I thought was a good idea, so there's a bit of that in here too. And the Fade dream part might seem unnecessary but it's building up to something later. Otherwise its just a whole chapter of Hawke and Merrill... more rambling conversations and fluff and romance... especially towards the end, and then you'll see the reason why this chapter took me so long to get right, again... and the reason I feel the need to remind you that this fic is rated M. This chapter is far from perfect but I've started a new job with strange (often very long and early) hours, and I'm getting anxious about not posting it so it's going up, but I will be tweaking it... when I have time and/or am awake. So keep that in mind when reading it. And thanks again to everyone for R&R-ing and pushing me past 100 reviews, yay!

---

xxx M xxx

---

The magic fills me, spreading through my body... lying back in the waking world, I suppose... familiar magic, warmth and healing and love... I can feel it, even here. It's her magic, this time, I know it so well... such a wonderful feeling, when she fills me with her mana, her spirit... her soul...

... You're going to be fine, my heart...

Hawke?

I... I heard her... didn't I? But... I can't see her... I can't see anything... I can't speak, or move... Am I asleep, then? But... where am I now? Where is this... this nowhere place? It's so dark... the Beyond is never so dark... why is there no light? Why am I here? And if I'm dreaming, then where is Hawke? If I am sleeping, then surely she would be too, and... and if she is, then... she would be with me... why isn't she with me? She wouldn't leave me... here... wherever 'here' is...

... I'm so sorry I didn't keep you safe...

There... again... I keep... keep hearing her voice, or... or I think I do, but... she isn't here... Where is she?

I'm all alone...

If... if I'm not awake... but I'm not... in the Beyond, then... then where am I?

Not... not beyond the Veil... surely? I can't be. It wouldn't just be darkness... would it? I... I'm not... dead, am I?

No... I can't be...

... but... maybe I am... and that whisper in the distance is... is Falon'Din, the guide of souls, coming to take me... across the Veil...

Oh, no...

Oh, Hawke... I'm so sorry...

All at once the crushing blackness shifts about me, a bright light suddenly gleaming in the distance... misty, ethereal... it's the Fade, I'm sure of it... So... I'm not dead? Oh, thank the Creators! Am I waking, now, then? But... I can't move... this isn't right at all...

... I will never fail you again...

Hawke?

The light before me dances, just a pinprick of colour in the darkness, coming closer and closer, but slowly... so slowly... there is no time, in this place, but it feels like hours as it slowly draws near... until at last the Fade light enfolds me, surrounds me, warm and bright as it chases the shadows away... and then world shapes itself around me, bulging and twisting and forming a... a familiar scene. It is the alienage, and yet... not. There is... a haze, over everything... and strange broken pieces of buildings, just sort of... suspended in the sky. This looks more like the Fade, now. I am in the Fade. I must be... inside a memory pulled from my mind... that's what the Beyond becomes, after all, isn't it? Echoes of life, memories drawn from sleeping minds... but... why can't I move? I should be in control of my spirit, here... all mages are... so why aren't I? Why... why can't I wake? Where is Hawke? The strange vision of the alienage suddenly pulls at me insistently, as though it is... it is drawing me inside my own awareness... but trapping me within; unable to move, to speak, even to think beyond the confines of this memory, my memory, caged within a corner of my own mind, watching, seeing, thinking, feeling everything just the same... just as I remember...

I... I remember this... I...

I...

... I gaze about in a sort of... stunned silence at the miserable-looking people, the dirty, run-down buildings and the tattered, filthy banners clinging shabbily to the crumbling, moss-covered walls of this... corral, this halla-pen. This elf-enclosure, built to segregate the desolate remnants of a once-proud race away from the humans, safely out of sight, out of mind... I shake my head, trying to dispel my anger and sadness and bitter thoughts, but I can't seem to make them go away. This is just... it's so wrong! Isn't it? How can the city elves just submit to treatment like this? They just let the humans keep them here, let them treat them like dirt, like nothing. And the worst part is that not one seems to care; not the elves, and certainly not the humans...

Well... alright, now, maybe that's not exactly true. I haven't been inside the city for more than an hour, at the most, so really, I... I can hardly make such a judgement based on what little I've seen so far, after all, can I? And besides... at least one of the humans does seem to care, after all. The shemlen woman... Hawke, she's... she's certainly not like what I expected a human to be like, not at all, is she? Not even a tiny bit. She's been nothing but patient and friendly and accepting. Welcoming. She's quite... wonderful, really.

I mean... for a shemlen, anyway...

I watch Hawke speaking quietly with a grizzled and very stern looking old elven man, standing by the giant tree right in the middle of the big open space between the houses. The vhenadahl. Tree of the People. That's... that's something familiar, at least... Pol told me about them, I remember. He said that most alienages have them, or the one in Denerim did, anyway. They are symbols of what the elves once were, and what we've lost, but... also of hope. A great tree growing in the middle of a city, surviving despite odds and abuse, triumphing over adversity, standing straight, and proud, and tall... Only... only none of the elves I can see at the moment seem anything of the sort. They're all sort of... sad, and thin, with worn, tired eyes. They look... beaten. Defeated. Resigned. Not at all like the strong, noble people they ought to be, and certainly nothing compared to the regal wisdom of the Keeper, or the brave, quiet strength of the clan hunters, like Fenarel, or Junar. Or... or Tamlen... and Mahariel...

Oh, I miss you, lethallan...

... Merrill? Merrill... where are you?...

What... what was that? Another whisper on the wind... it sounded so lost... but... I know that voice... don't I?

... Hawke?

"Merrill?"

I blink, suddenly recalled back to myself as Hawke finishes her conversation with the man I assume to be the hahren, and walks back over to me.

"The alienage leader tells me this house is free," Hawke says kindly as she rests a gentle hand on my shoulder, guiding me over to the little hovel on the corner. I look at it without real interest; such a strange thing to think of, a home that doesn't move. With only one person living inside. Alone. "I asked if there was anything available in the square. I thought you might like somewhere close to the big tree, here," Hawke continues as I continue to stare in silence at the house... my house. I process her words slowly, belatedly feeling strangely touched as I realise how thoughtfully she tried to take care of me. A... house... by the vhenadahl... that might be nice... She really is a very kind sort of shem, isn't she? "A little bit of greenery, you know, to... ease the transition, I suppose," she finishes, and nods towards the hahren's retreating back as he disappears out of sight around a corner. "The leader said he will call on you later once you've had time to settle in; to talk with you about alienage life, and help you... adjust."

Adjust. Yes. This... this will take quite a bit of adjusting, won't it? I will... I will just have to... get used to it, I suppose. This was my choice, after all, but... this... this is not what imagined. Even with all of Pol's stories, nothing could have prepared me for this... place.

I feel Hawke press her fingers a little more firmly against my shoulder. "Are you... alright, Merrill?" she asks gently. "I know this can't be easy for you."

No. It isn't. I... I didn't exactly think it would be, of course but... still...

"Elgar'nan..." I whisper quietly to myself. I turn to Hawke, her blue eyes gazing worriedly into mine as I look at her in disbelief, speaking the first words I've been able to manage since entering the city gates. "Is this... is this really where the elves live?"

She nods once; sorrow and sympathy creeping into her piercing eyes. "Yes... I'm afraid it is," she says sadly. She drops her hand from my shoulder to rub at the back of her neck. Perhaps it's sore? It has good reason to be, I suppose, after today. We had to do quite a bit of walking after all, and fighting too, of course... Hawke gives a little shrug and attempts a weak smile. "Supposedly there are worse alienages. I don't see how though, unless they're constantly on fire."

That's... that's sarcasm again... right? So she doesn't really mean it? It's just... a bit hard to tell right now, because... from the look of this place, she might well be right. "I didn't think it would be so... so..." I begin, faltering to a halt as I fail to find a way to describe what I see about me. At least, in a way that doesn't make me seem utterly ungrateful. None of this is her fault, after all, and she's been so kind... I pull my gaze from hers to stare about the sorry-looking square. "I've never seen so many people in one place before." I watch them for a moment, all these people scurrying about, all of them going about their business and completely ignoring the stranger in their midst, as though a new elf coming to live amongst them were about as interesting as watching the vhenadahl grow... "It seems so lonely."

"You're not alone, Merrill," Hawke says seriously, and I turn at the sweet sound of her quiet words. There is just something so... wonderfully reassuring in her lovely voice. It really is a nice voice... Hawke holds my eyes. "You already know me. You'll make other friends soon enough."

I blink at her, at a sudden loss for words. But that... that sounds like she means... she already thinks of herself as my friend. She... she is very kind to say so. "I... Thank you," I manage at last. "I... I could never have come here on my own. I've never been to a human settlement of any size before, let alone a city... I never imagined it would be like... this."

"It can be a lot to take in," she agrees, and favours me with a gentle smile. "If it helps, think of it as... an adventure."

I try for a small, wry laugh and fail miserably. "Some adventurer I am. Barely set out, and I'm already daunted."

She shakes her head. "Oh, I don't know about that," she says softly. "I think you're doing remarkably well, considering what a culture shock this must be for you."

I manage a smile at that, a small one, anyway. She really is very kind. I think I'm very lucky she was the one to bring me here. And fortunate that she's been good enough to put up with it, too, especially considering what a difficult day it's been, what with the skeletons, and giant spiders and things, and fighting all the way up the mountain, and then Asha'bellanar's amulet unexpectedly turning into Asha'bellanar herself, who then even more unexpectedly turned herself into a dragon... after leaving us with some very cryptic words. What was it she said to me, exactly? 'No path is darker than when your eyes are shut...' That was it. What in Mythal's name did she mean by that? Does she... does she know about what I'm doing? With... with the mirror? But how could she? And even if she does, somehow... my eyes are not shut. I may not know everything about eluvians, or... or blood magic... but I know what I am doing with the shard, at least for the moment. Perhaps I should have asked the Witch what she knew, exactly... no, that's a foolish thought. I never could have summoned the courage to ask her more, even when she addressed me directly. Not like Hawke. The human spoke to Asha'bellanar without any sort of fear, or even awe. She even cheeked her a few times! Cheeked Asha'bellanar! As though she was nothing more powerful or intimidating than a rather batty and eccentric old woman out for a stroll on the mountaintop! And after everything I told her about what is supposed to happen to anyone unlucky enough to cross the Witch's path. Strange that Asha'bellanar didn't even seem to mind at all, though; she seemed indulgent of Hawke's behaviour, fond, even. She also seemed to think Hawke has some sort of destiny before her... although it was quite hard to tell; not a lot of what she was saying made any sort of sense, at least as far as I could make out. Still... this human is sweet, and kind, and funny, and clever... and Asha'bellanar spoke to her almost... as an equal. I think she must be a remarkable sort of person indeed, this human, this... Hawke.

I hope I'll see more of her.

I look at the brave, kind, beautiful human woman going well out of her way to help some foolish, rambling, shy little elf she only just met, and my heart swells with gratitude. "Thank you, Hawke," I tell her quietly, but with feeling. "For everything. For all your help."

Hawke inclines her head gracefully, smiling kindly. Her eyes sparkle with light. Suddenly I want very much for her to stay with me, just a little longer, at least. Although... I'm not likely to be very good company right now, not the way I'm feeling. But... I... I don't want to be alone. I've never... never been on my own, before, not without the clan being right near by... but... oh, dear, now I can feel a miserable lump trying to rise in my throat, all of a sudden... I push it down quickly, but I don't know how much longer I can hold it back, and I can't let go in front of her, I can't burden her with my sorrow on top of everything else she's had to do for me today. It wasn't even part of her bargain with Asha'bellanar to take me with her to Kirkwall; the Keeper sort of snuck that in, somehow. She is very crafty. But Hawke did as she asked anyway, without complaint. And she's been so patient and kind; bringing me here to the city and helping me carry my pack, buying a few days worth of food and supplies as though thinking nothing of it, even taking me right into the alienage so she could speak to the elves here on my behalf about finding me somewhere to stay, while her brother and the stern red-haired shemlen woman and the durgen'len man with the crossbow went home at her request, so I wouldn't feel even more crowded, she said... And on the mountain, at that strange barrier before the graveyard, when I... I had to get it open with blood magic... well, she didn't seem to approve, exactly, but she also didn't try to stop me, or argue about it, or attack me, or anything. And it didn't change the way she treated me afterwards. She even healed my wrist for me... the touch of her magic was so warm, and gentle... She's been so understanding and kind, but... I should let her go for now, anyway. She ought to rest, and I... I will need a little time myself, truth be told. To adjust.

Still...

"Will you come visit me?" I blurt out suddenly, hopefully. She lifts her eyebrows slightly in surprise, and I wave my hands placatingly in front of me as I continue on hurriedly. "Not now, of course! But maybe later? I could use a friend."

I watch Hawke anxiously for her reaction and am astonished when her face lights up at my sudden request, making her look lovelier than ever. "Of course!" she laughs, her eyes dancing merrily. "But only because you used that; "You kicked my puppy" voice. Who could possibly resist?" She smiles at me gently. "Really, though, all joking aside... I'd love to visit you, Merrill. Actually, I... I feel like we're friends already. Lucky for you," she murmurs, stepping closer. To speak so that only I can hear her, I'm sure, but... it's... distracting, for some reason... she's so close I can feel her warmth... catch her scent... elfroot and Andraste's Grace and crushed pine needles, a hint of mabari and sun-warmed earth, and summer rain, too... her scent is like Ferelden, like... like... home. Curious... "You're going to have to learn how apostates in human settlements avoid the notice of the Templars," she continues, her voice low and soft, and I give my head a little shake and focus on her words again, properly this time. "And since I've been evading them all my life, well, that makes me your new best friend."

Best...? So... she does want to be friends, then? Oh, I hope so! I beam at her. "Thank you. Oh, I'm thanking you too much, aren't I? I mean it, though."

She smiles at me again. "You're very welcome, Merrill. And listen..."

... Merrill? Can you hear me?...

...Hawke pauses, and then walks over to the edge of the square, standing right near all of those rusty metal spikes which seem to be there to stop people falling into the water below and drowning. Which is good, I suppose. They still give the whole place a very sinister sort of feel, though. Hawke turns, looking at me, and I suddenly realise she meant for me to follow her. Oh! I hurry over and she smiles, then turns to point up at the landing past the alienage stairs. "See that street right up there, the first right turn out of the alienage? Follow that along right to the end, where it opens into the square. The house on the left hand side of the street, up the steps on the corner, is my uncle's house. That's where I live."

Really? But she's so close! That does make me feel a little better.

A lot better, actually...

Hawke faces me again, a serious look on her face. "If you ever need anything; food, clothes, coin, or you need questions answered, or you just want company, anything at all... then come and see me, anytime. If I'm not there, then my mother or brother probably will be; they'll keep you company until I get home. I'll tell them to expect you." Her mouth twists into an uncomfortable grimace for a moment. "Though if a grumpy, slightly greasy, rather ripe-smelling old man answers when you knock, you should probably come back later. My uncle is... a difficult man. I don't want him... harassing you. Don't let that put you off from coming by, though." She looks into my eyes. "Promise me you'll ask for my help, if you ever need it."

Oh... she doesn't have to do that! I mean, she does seem very nice and all, it's just... why would a human be so interested in helping an elf; any more that she had to, anyway? She can't really mean it, though, surely... But then, she does sound very earnest. Obviously she takes her responsibilities very seriously, even though I'm pretty sure all Marethari asked her to do was bring me here. I feel bad enough about that; she doesn't have to keep going to all this trouble over me...

... Merrill, please... answer me... Merrill...

I blink a little in confusion for a moment. Did she... did she say my name, just now? She must have, there's no one else here, and it certainly sounded like her... although it was strangely faint, and sort of far away... oh, Hawke is looking at me expectantly, now, am I supposed to be doing something? Some sort of human farewell custom I'm not familiar with, or- oh, no, wait... she asked me something, didn't she? What was it? Oh... right... to promise her... promise her I'd call on her for help, if I need it. She really doesn't have to do that... but then, I don't really want to refuse her offer. I would certainly like being allowed to ask her for help, and I... I would very much like to see her again, I think.

"I will," I tell her. "I promise. Thank you, Hawke... again." She smiles at me, and I feel a sudden warmth spreading through my chest at the sight. What is this... feeling? It's like... there's just something about her that makes me feel... wonderful. As though everything is going to be alright, as long as she is here.

If I do need anything, though... maybe I should wait and see if she comes to visit, first, just to see if she will, if she actually wants to. If she doesn't, then I'll know she'd rather I just took care of myself, now that she's brought me here. I'd like to make sure she's not just being polite; I wouldn't want to be a burden on her. And Mythal only knows if I'll actually be able to find her house on my own. It sounded simple enough, the way she said it, but... everything looks the same, here, and I don't want to get lost...

I pick up my pack and the bag of food and things she bought me, turning to go into the house... no, my house... but before I turn away completely, I feel a light touch on my wrist, and I look back at her for a moment, questioningly. "What is it? Did I forget something?"

"No." Hawke smiles at me again, and her whole being seems to shine with the... the beauty of it... I can only stare at her silently in wonder... the light in her brilliant blue eyes is so bright, so lovely, piercing into my soul...

... Please, love... I can't find you...

Love?

Yes... I'm her love... and she is my heart...

My Hawke...

... "No, Merrill," she says softly, seriously. "You didn't forget anything, I just... I wanted to say... you're going to be alright, you know." She doesn't seem to expect an answer, which is good, because my throat is suddenly so tight I doubt I could manage one. She just smiles again. "I mean it. You are. And remember; anything you need, you come to me. I'll take care of you. You're going to be alright," she repeats.

I feel my mouth curve in somewhat tremulous smile of gratitude, which she returns, and then she gives me a little wave as she turns to leave the alienage. She walks slowly towards the stairs, stopping for a moment and glancing back at me once with another smile and a lingering look, before she turns away, mounting the steps and walking round the corner out of sight.

I suddenly feel very lonely, without her...

... Merrill...where are you...

... and then the dappled sunlight beneath the vhenadahl tree suddenly wavers as the memory fades around me and collapses into black shadow... replaced by a red, warm glow on the backs of my eyelids... and the warm touch of satin on my skin as I leave the Beyond at last...

... and open my eyes slowly, sleepily, to a world that is... out of focus, blurry, I can't see... where... am I? I'm warm, and comfortable... but I wasn't before, I... was cold... in pain... But... I feel a lot better now... though... that was... a very strange dream... but then, it wasn't really like a dream at all, was it? It was my memory... and I was watching from inside myself... how strange. That's never happened to me in the Fade before... but that's what it was. I remember it all so clearly, and that's just how it happened... coming to the alienage for the first time... with Hawke...

Hawke... she was... calling for me, in the... the dream... I... Why... why was I asleep? I try to force my foggy mind to think... to remember... The Emporium... Xenon... the... the wyvern... Hawke... Hawke was hurt! But... then she was holding me... I remember... she was alright, but...I was... in pain...

I was hurt...

Badly.

Oh...

I open my eyes wider, trying to see her as my vision clears slowly, and I'm... in a bed, Hawke's bed. No... our bed... in our room. Looking up at the patterned wood of the canopy above me, lying on my back beneath the warm covers... safe, and comfortable...

But where... where is my Hawke?

I turn my head slowly and there she is, lying right beside me on top of the covers... still in the clothes she wore to the Emporium, boots and all. Her eyes are closed, her breathing deep, and slow... she's sleeping, curled in a ball on her side... her fingers lying less than an inch from mine where my arm rests on top of the blankets, as though... as though she fell asleep holding my hand...

Oh, Hawke...

I study her sleeping face through heavily lidded eyes. It... doesn't look like a peaceful sleep, at all... her eyelids fluttering restlessly... a small frown tugging at the corners of her lips... a tiny worried crease between her dark, graceful brows...

"Merrill?" she whispers, her voice faint and frantic, and my heart clenches at the distress in her voice. Oh, ma vhenan... She's worried about me... I... heard her voice in the memory, the dream... searching for me across the Fade... she must still be there, looking for me... Why couldn't she find me? We've always found each other there before...

Hawke makes a soft, wordless sound of distress in her sleep and I force myself into full wakefulness, trying to sit up, to move closer to her, but I can't... can't quite manage it. My body doesn't seem to want to obey me, yet, my bones aching, my muscles and stiff and sore... I settle for reaching out to her, once I remember how to lift my arm, placing a hand gently on her head and stroking her hair, then smoothing away the little line of worry on her forehead with a fingertip. It has no right to be there. I'm alright now. At least, I think I am. She shouldn't be worried...

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out; my throat is too dry. I breathe in deeply, give a few weak coughs and try again. "M-ma vhenan..." I whisper, surprised at how soft and cracked my voice is. She stirs a little, beginning to wake at my touch, and I cup her cheek, giving her a weak smile as her eyes blink open. "Hush. I'm here... it's a-alright."

Hawke stares at me for just a moment, and then her mouth curves in a wondrous smile, lighting her whole face with its beauty. She sits up a little, raising trembling fingers to touch my hand where it lies against her cheek... and then in the next moment her face is streaming with a river of tears. "Oh... Merrill..." she sobs, her voice breaking as she whispers my name.

"Hawke?" I ask worriedly. "W-why... why are you crying?"

She gives her head a small shake, turning her head to kiss my palm, the shining trails of wetness on her cheeks glinting in the light of the fire. "You're awake..." she manages at last, smiling through her sobs.

So... she's crying because I woke up? Crying... out of happiness, then? Is that... a thing? I smile back gently, wiping away her tears. "Yes... I am. But that's good, though, isn't it?"

She gives a wet sort of laugh and nods. "Oh, yes," she whispers fervently, "It's wonderful. I was just..." Her words suddenly leave her in a hurried rush. "You seemed alright, but then when I tried to find your spirit in the Fade, and I couldn't... I thought... something might be wrong, that you wouldn't..." She bites back her next words as though afraid to say them aloud and starts again. "I couldn't find you. I looked for you, I looked everywhere, and I called, but..."

"I know, I-" I start to say, and then cough as my words catch in my dry, parched throat. Hawke reaches for a cup of water on the table by the bed and then lifts me up a little with her other arm, supporting me as she holds it up for me to drink. I sip the water greedily until the cup is drained and empty, smiling gratefully at her as she puts it away and lays me back down, very gently.

"I heard you calling for me, but... I couldn't answer," I continue once I'm able to speak again.

A little frown appears on Hawke's face as she processes my words, gazing at me with wide, worried eyes. "You heard me in the Fade, but you couldn't reply?" I nod, and her frown deepens. "Why not? Weren't you aware?"

I start to shake my head, and then pause, considering. "I was at first, I think, but then... I wasn't, anymore. Not exactly."

"But... what happened, then?" Hawke asks, looking confused. "Where were you?"

"I was... in a memory, I think," I say slowly. "Like... like the Fade pulled a whole, complete memory from my mind, instead of just bits and pieces of places or people like normal. I was... reliving it exactly, every sight, every sound... even every thought and feeling. But I couldn't leave if I wanted to, or move freely at all as I usually would. That's never happened before." I pause for a moment, recovering my breath for a moment. "But then, I've never gone into the Beyond when I was so drained before, either. The Keeper made sure I never did. She said that without the touch of magic in my blood, I would be unable to have any influence over my surroundings or myself in the Fade, and make it harder to protect myself from the Fade spirits. I suppose this must have been what she meant."

Hawke's eyes fill with worry. "Maker, I didn't think... You weren't troubled by any demons, were you?" I shake my head quickly to reassure her, and she sighs in relief. "Good." She strokes my hair gently, a very thoughtful expression on her face. "I'd never even thought about what would happen if I entered the Fade without mana. I've never gone to sleep without at least a spark of it." She grimaces. "Well, except for when Xenon drugged us, but that was different. He said the potion would specifically prevent dreams. What you describe sounds like what non-mages are supposed to see when they sleep; dreams built mostly of their memories."

I nod. "Except I can still remember it." It's so strange to think that non-mages don't remember most of their time in the Fade, apart from really strong dreams, I suppose. Except for dwarves, of course, who don't go into the Fade at all when they sleep. I wonder if that makes sleeping any more peaceful for them? All non-magical people, I mean, not just dwarves. Without the threat of demonic possession, I suppose it would.

"Was it a dream of a good memory, at least?" Hawke asks, interrupting my inner ramblings.

I hesitate only for a moment. I am... not certain how to answer that. It was... a memory of an uncertain, frightening time, having to leave the clan to live amongst shemlens... I think I felt those feelings in the dream, but... I don't remember them now.

There was only Hawke.

"Yes, ma vhenan," I tell her softly. "It was a memory of you."

Her eyes dance with light as she smiles at me. "Oh, Maker, I love your sweetness," she says quietly. "I'm so happy you're alright."

That would be thanks to her, I'm sure. "Because of you, Hawke."

Her smile falters a little, but she covers it up quickly by kissing my forehead, tilting her head at me as she pulls back, and I find myself distracted by how... how lovely and cute she looks, with her hair falling in her eyes like that... "You'll probably need more rest, soon," she says suddenly. "It should be safe; it's been almost a night and a day since... well, your mana should have regenerated a bit by now. Can you feel it at all?"

My eyes widen at her words; how could I not have checked already? I reach hurriedly for my mana and smile as I feel the tingling warmth of it deep inside me. Or some of it, at least. Not much, but... I suppose my body felt that healing itself was more important than regenerating mana. Which I suppose is fair. As long as that horrible potion has worn off, and I'm all better, or almost anyway, I should get the rest back soon enough. But just to feel even a little... oh, it's wonderful...

"I'll take your blissful expression of unadulterated happiness as a 'yes'," Hawke grins, and I giggle.

"Yes, Hawke, I can feel it! A little, at least."

Hawke nods, looking relieved. "Good." Her smile dims a little, and her eyes grow serious. "I've been so scared, Merrill," she says quietly. "Anders told me you would sleep deeply, but when I couldn't find you in the Fade..." She breaks off, a distressed look on her face, and I reach up to touch her hair, stroking the soft strands comfortingly with my fingertips. She smiles a little as I do so. "I thought... maybe your spirit had... gone on, beyond the Veil. I've... seen it happen before, when someone is very badly injured or ill. They just seem to be sleeping, but they never wake up, and eventually they just... fade away." She grimaces slightly. "For lack of a better phrase."

I smile at her gently, wanting to reassure her. "I'm alright, ma vhenan," I tell her softly. "I feel a lot better already. And I am certainly not planning on going anywhere, least of all the Fade if I can... can help it..."

But my body betrays me almost as soon as I finish speaking and I yawn the last words, finding it very hard to keep my eyes open as a sudden wave of deep exhaustion washes over me... Oh... I suppose I do need more rest... Hawke was right... of course she was... she's the healer, she should know...

Hawke presses her hand to my cheek and I feel her magic moving through me, weaving around me like warm strands of silk and sunlight, cradling me, embracing me, lulling me... it doesn't feel like a healing, though... it feels entropic, like... like... some sort of sleeping spell?

"Hawke? You're... what... what are you...?" My words disappear into another yawn, and Hawke smooths her other hand over my hair.

"Shh, it's alright," she whispers. "You clearly still need more sleep, to recover your strength. I'm just making it so you won't dream while you do. I should have done this before; maybe then you would have been better rested, without any odd memory-dream... things... interrupting."

I blink at her slowly as her spell takes hold. She's right, I suppose... I do need more sleep... I just don't want to be apart from her. But if... if I have some of my mana back, now, then I will be in the Fade properly, won't I? And she will be able to find me, this time, when she sleeps...

"Alright..." I manage, my voice growing faint with drowsiness. "But you... you should sleep more, too... I... I will wait for you... in the Beyond..."

She shakes her head, growing blurry in my vision as my eyelids grow heavier. "I'm keeping you out of the Fade, so none of the demons there will be able to find you. You'll be safe that way, while you rest," she explains. I... I won't see her? I make a small worried noise in the back of my throat, and she strokes my cheek reassuringly. "Don't worry. You'll probably sleep for longer, this time, but you won't even know it. And I will be right here when you wake up, my love. I promise."

Well... alright, then. It's probably a bit late to try and argue, now... and I can't... keep my eyes open any longer, anyway... I let them close, breathing slow, and deeply... slipping into the darkness... soft lips brush my temple... then...

---

The firelight wakes me... sparks of red and gold, dancing beneath my eyelids... teasing them open, calling me back into wakefulness. I'm still in bed, as though I haven't moved at all... but now I'm... naked? Yes, definitely naked... Not that I mind that at all, of course. At least, not so long as Hawke is taking care of me... that just makes it sort of... intriguing, really...

I feel... very well rested, now, as though I've slept for hours, but it feels like no time has passed at all, just like she said...

I blink my eyes slowly to clear them, searching for her, and my heart gives a happy jolt as I see her kneeling by the fire, dressed in just her house robe, now, and barefoot. She is scratching her sweet old dog absently behind the ears with one hand as she bends over a small woven basket on the floor beside him. I wonder what could be inside... I try to look, straining my eyes and ears for some sort of clue... and for a moment I hear an odd sound, sort of like the ruffling of... feathers? But... no... that can't be right, surely, where would that noise be coming from? I must have just imagined it, I suppose...

I forget all about the mysterious basket as Hawke suddenly turns, as though sensing me watching her, glancing over her shoulder with her wonderful, glorious eyes of azure flame... and the smile she gives me as she meets my gaze just melts my heart completely.

I clutch the blankets to my chest, keeping myself covered for warmth as I sit up cautiously, expecting to feel that same stiffness and soreness as before, but it doesn't come. I feel... much better, now. Almost normal, actually. Hawke rises in one fluid motion, moving quickly over to the bedside and sitting on the edge. She very carefully wraps her arms about me, supporting me with one hand buried in my hair, cradling my head, the other stroking gently over the bare skin of my back, and I lean into her, hugging her back as hard as I can, resting my head against her chest as her arms tighten about me, holding me close, and safe.

"How are you feeling?" she asks softly, her warm fingers running through my hair before coming to rest tenderly against the nape of my neck, stroking gently.

"Much better, ma vhenan," I tell her softly, my voice sounding small and raspy, as though from a very long silence. I must have been asleep for much longer, this time, like she thought I would. I hope I haven't been too much of a burden on her... I lean back a little, giving her a careful examination. Her face has a distinct pallor I don't like the look of one bit, and there are very dark shadows beneath her eyes. Is she unwell? She was injured too, after all. That wyvern knocked her down and hurt her ribs badly, I know it did, and then when it threw her... that awful crack as her head met the wall... I know she would have been healed by now, by herself or Anders but still... "What about you?" I ask anxiously. "You still look very pale, Hawke. Are you all right? I should have asked before, you hit your head very badly, after all, and-"

Hawke raises a hand and gently traces her fingertips over my cheek, coming to rest against my lips. "Shh, I'm fine, love. Don't you worry about me. If I'm pale it's only because I've not been outside for a while."

I give her a slightly reproving look. "So you forgot to look after yourself, because you were taking care of me, I suppose?" She smiles sheepishly, and I have my answer. I shake my head at her a little, feeling my heart warm inside me even as I do. I'll never deserve her. "How long was I sleeping for this time, then?"

"A few days."

I feel my eyebrows lift in surprise. "Days? Really?" She nods, and I blink, still not quite believing it. How can anyone need so much sleep? "Oh." My stomach chooses that moment to give an insistent and very timely rumble, and I bite my lip, blushing. I suppose it must have been days, after all, then. "I... think I'm hungry."

She smiles. "So it seems. And well you should be." She glances over her shoulder at the fireplace, where I can see a little iron kettle suspended over the roaring flames. "I've been giving you broth, but you've only been able to drink a little at a time. I couldn't risk giving you too much when you weren't conscious enough to take it in properly." Hawke draws me back towards her, holding me to her again, and I lean my head against her shoulder as she reaches behind me, propping up the pillows at my back. She gently lowers me to rest against them so I am almost sitting up, tucking the sheets and blankets more securely about my chest, and then reaches over and takes a small bottle from the bedside table. "Let me give you this, first, and then I'll give you something to eat," she says, showing me the flask. "You'll need it to get the taste out." I frown a little at her words. The... the taste? She smiles cheekily at my questioning look. "It's a restoration potion. I brewed it myself; it's strong, but... bitter, I'm afraid. I never could get the hang of sweetening potions without ruining them. Your mana is nearly restored, I think, but this should help you get the rest of your magic back. Open your mouth, love."

She holds the little bottle to my lips, tipping it gently. I try my best not to make a face as the potion hits my tongue, but I can't help it, she was right, it is bitter! But strong, very strong, and almost at once I can feel the small reserves of my power abruptly flare and grow, burning bright and warm within me, and suddenly I've never tasted anything so wonderful in my life. Oh, I've missed this feeling...

"Sorry," Hawke says ruefully, watching my reaction to the taste of the wonderful stuff that brought my magic completely back to life.

I shake my head, beaming at her happily. "Don't be, Hawke; it's wonderful!" She raises an incredulous eyebrow at me, and I smile at her. "Well, alright, it tastes worse than Xenon's nightshade potion, but it's so strong... I feel like my old self again. Almost, anyway."

"Good," Hawke replies with a nod of satisfaction. "I've been giving you a little every day; as much as you could manage, same as the broth. You should be back to normal in no time. And I'll give you another healing soon, too. Just to be sure."

"Really?" I ask her, trying to bite back a smile of anticipation. That sounds... very nice. It's such a wonderful feeling, whenever she heals me, filling me with her magic... but she shouldn't have to use it all up again, not while she's so clearly tired. "I do feel fine, now, though," I reassure her, trying to sound convincing. I don't want her to exhaust herself. "You could wait until you've rested a bit. But, of course, if you feel you should..."

"I do," she says, nodding gently. "It's better safe than sorry. I want to be sure your scars are completely gone."

I blink at her in surprised confusion. "My... scars?"

Hawke drops her eyes a little, looking pained. "From... where the wyvern bit you." I look down, remembering the piercing pain as the monster struck me, as it tore my flesh, remember the burning in my chest... but there are no marks that I can see. What does she... wait... no... there are some scars... tiny little punctures, just the merest suggestion of teeth marks. "I've been working on them every day," Hawke says. "I don't want to leave a single trace of them. Wounds like that; from such a large venomous creature... it's best to make sure they're completely healed."

I raise a hand, tracing my fingers along the nearly invisible little marks. She must have worked very hard to get rid of them so completely. "They're almost gone, already." I tell her. "Thank you for taking such good care of me, ma vhenan."

She shakes her head a little as her mouth curves at my words. "That's never something you have to thank me for. It goes without saying that I will, my love." Her smile dims a little. "Besides, it wouldn't have been necessary if I'd kept you safe as I should have."

Oh, no, she isn't going to do this to herself again, is she? "It wasn't your fault, what happened, Hawke," I tell her firmly, willing her to believe it. "You know that, don't you?"

She smiles a little more, but doesn't look very convinced. I open my mouth to remind her of the promise she made not go blaming herself for every little thing all the time, but she speaks first.

"Ready for some food?" she asks, smiling gently at me as she picks up a little bowl and a small spoon from the bedside table. "I'll get you some broth, if you feel up to it."

"You're changing the subject," I accuse her.

She raises her eyebrow just a little, but in a cheeky, teasing sort of way. "We can keep talking about it if you like. But I'm sure you would rather have something to eat right now, wouldn't you?"

I can't help but narrow my eyes at her a little, though the corner of my mouth twitches up a little despite my best efforts. She stares back at me with wide, blue eyes; the picture of innocence. I know what she is doing, of course, but... After a moment I nod, letting it go. For the moment, at least. I might be better able to argue with her on a full stomach, anyway. And I am very hungry, now. "Yes, please, Hawke."

"Alright, then. Just a moment." Hawke moves over to a small cauldron heating in the fireplace, ladling out some of the contents into the bowl and coming back to sit on the edge of the bed beside me. She lifts a spoonful of the broth and blows on it gently, then raises it carefully up to my mouth, feeding me. I smile, surprised and delighted by the gesture. I know it's what you generally do for sick or injured people, of course, but still... With Hawke, it feels so... intimate.

I like it, very much.

"Just a little at a time, love," she says quietly as I sip at the spoon. I finish the first mouthful, licking my lips a little once it's gone. The broth is flavourful and filling and salty, but somehow it also quenches my thirst as well. It's wonderful.

"Did you make this, ma vhenan?"

She nods, bringing another spoonful to my eager lips. "Yes."

"Mmm." I make a pleased noise at the back of my throat as I swallow. "It's very tasty. You really are a very good cook."

Hawke smiles, giving a small laugh of surprise, and I watch in delighted fascination as a blush begins to burn in her cheeks. "It's just broth," she says modestly. "But thank you."

She feeds me the rest of it, putting the empty bowl back on the table when I'm done. I settle back deeper into the pillows, feeling warm and full and very comfortable.

"Feel better?" Hawke asks softly, a loving note in her voice, and I smile at her gratefully.

"Oh, yes, much. Thank you, ma vhenan."

"My pleasure." She smiles back. "Do you need anything else?"

I consider for a moment. "Not right now, although... I do have a question, if you don't mind."

"Of course not," she answers immediately. "What is it?"

I take a peek at my body beneath the warm bedclothes. "Why am I naked?" Hawke's eyes widen a little as a rosy blush stains her cheeks, and I stumble on quickly to alleviate her embarrassment. "Not that I mind, of course, just the opposite, really. I just... wondered."

She smiles a little as she looks at me. "So I could bathe you while you slept," she answers, and then blinks, suddenly looking distinctly uncomfortable. She rubs her neck. "That... sounded rather less creepy in my head... although I'm not sure why, now that I think about it." She bites her lip a little before letting her explanation out in a sudden, stammering rush. I must be rubbing off on her, I think. "While you were sleeping... Maker, this sounds wrong, but it... you... being... um, you know, having no clothes on, it just... it made things easier when I bathed you, and... when you had to... um, when it seemed you needed... relief..." I feel a blush stain my cheeks as I realise what she means. Hawke clears her throat a little, and I focus on her, grateful for the distraction. "The clothes you were wearing were ruined, but I couldn't find anything here that would be comfortable while you slept. Nothing that would fit you, anyway. I asked Isabela and Varric to go and get some of your things for you - they came by a few times after they heard what happened. They were both so worried," she interrupts herself, and I feel a rush of affection and gratitude for both of them as she continues. "They brought the bag of clothes you left there, but you didn't pack any of your sleeping things."

Of course I didn't, I thought she said I wasn't to? "No, I left them under my pillow. You said I wouldn't need night-time things anymore," I tell her, and she chuckles a little.

"And I meant it," she says, eyes twinkling. "It just means you had nothing comfortable enough to sleep in while you were recovering. I asked Isabela to go out and buy some things for you, but the items she came back with...ah..." Hawke suddenly blushes bright red, the colour even reaching the curves of her ears. "Well, they weren't exactly... appropriate. I probably should have been more careful - and specific - with the way I worded my request for her to get you 'something to wear to bed'. I strongly suspect that she may have 'borrowed' some garments from the Blooming Rose. Needless to say, I did not feel entirely comfortable dressing you in them, somehow."

I giggle; I can't help it, really. Oh, Isabela! I look at Hawke curiously. "I don't suppose you still have them, do you?"

"I do, as a matter of fact," she answers slowly, and nods at the wardrobe by the bed. "She refused to take them back, so I put them away until I figure out what to do with them. Leave them in a bag outside the brothel in the dead of night, then knock on the door and run for it, I suppose."

"Can... can I see?" I ask, blushing, and she laughs.

"In a bit, if you like. Why?" She gives me a sly look. "Don't tell me you want to try them on?"

I blush harder. "Oh, I didn't mean... I only thought it might be fun to look at them, not that I..." I trail off as I realise she is only joking. "Oh, ma vhenan, shame on you, teasing your patient!"

"Sorry. Couldn't resist," she grins. "I can go out myself and find you some more comfortable things to sleep in, now that you're awake."

"Oh, no, that's alright, Hawke," I tell her quickly. I don't want her to go anywhere. "I don't mind not having any sleeping things, really. This is much nicer, anyway. I liked the feel of sleeping bare before."

Hawke raises her eyebrows. "You've... slept naked previously, have you?"

"Have you forgotten already?" I tease her gently, smiling.

A lovely blush steals over her features, and she ducks her head a little. "No, I... I meant before we... you know..." she says quickly, stumbling over her words a little, and I look at her in surprise. Oh, yes, I think I am definitely rubbing off on her. I smile, suddenly feeling very cheeky. And bold. It works both ways, it seems. And it's my turn to tease her a little, now.

"Well... aravels don't always offer the best protection from the cold in winter," I inform her, trying to sound as casual as I can manage. "I've found that your bedroll usually gets warmer much quicker... if you are wearing nothing at all."

She blinks at me, her eyes growing dark, and then she grins delightedly, laughing. "Oh, now that paints a simply wonderful picture in my head..."

I bite my cheek to hide my own smile of pleasure at her reaction to my words. This is very interesting, talking to her like this. Flirting, I suppose Isabela would call it. No wonder she does it all the time, it's so much fun, and sort of... empowering, I think the word is. And besides, it worked out quite well the last time, as I recall...

I look up at Hawke from beneath my eyelashes, smiling a little. "You don't have to see it in your head, Hawke." I pluck meaningfully at the blankets. "I'm right here..."

She bites her lips as she tries unsuccessfully to restrain a smile at my bold behaviour, but all she manages to do is redden them enticingly as I watch, fascinated with the way she responds to me. "So you are..." she says slowly, and then gives her head a little shake. "But I... I am far too honourable a healer to take advantage of my patients when they are in such a vulnerable position," she says, her voice warm with humour and affection.

"I wouldn't mind, Hawke, really," I tell her truthfully, trying to make my voice do that... low, husky, purring thing. "Not in the least."

Hawke loses the battle with her smile and lets it light up her face. "Stop tempting me, you," she laughs, and I smile myself at the sound of it. "You're testing my restraint enough as it is."

"Sorry, ma vhenan," I say happily, not feeling sorry at all. That was so much fun! I think I will have to do it more often. "I couldn't resist. I meant it though. I really wouldn't mind if..." I let my words trail away teasingly, and Hawke rewards my cheekiness with another wonderful laugh.

"Careful, now, love," she smiles. "Save your strength for getting well." I start to tell her I feel fine, but she forestalls me. "You may be feeling better now, my little temptress, but you'll soon tire. Besides, I need to conserve my own energy; I still have to give you a healing in a little bit. One more should do it, I think."

Another healing? Oh, yes, that sounds wonderful... "Why not now?" I ask eagerly.

Hawke rubs my stomach gently through the blanket, making me giggle. "Got to let the broth settle in there for a minute or two. Don't want to risk making you ill, do we?"

I place my hand over hers, smiling at her. "Oh, I see. You think I'm so full of broth already that if you fill me up with magic, too, I might just burst. And that would ruin all your nice clean sheets."

"Something like that," she laughs, and a jolt of pure joy shoots through me at the wonderful sweetness of the sound.

I tilt my head at her adoringly as her laughter dies away. "I love your voice," I tell her. I'm suddenly reminded of something I've wanted to ask her for quite a while, now. "Can you sing, Hawke?"

She blinks at me in surprise. "What?"

Did she not hear me? I thought my voice was sounding better, now. "Can you sing?" I repeat, a little louder, and she smiles fondly at me, though a little uncertainly.

"I heard you, I just... that was a little out of nowhere, don't you think? Why do you ask?"

I lift one shoulder in a little shrug. "I don't know, it's just... this, now, the way you're taking care of me, it just... it reminded me of how my mother would sing to me, when I was a little girl and I'd get sick. And you... you have such a lovely voice, so I just... I wondered."

Her smile deepens. "Well... leaving aside that you just told me I remind you of your mother..." I blush fiercely; I didn't mean it that way, I really didn't... but then, the way she's grinning at me, she knows that, I think. Teasing her patient again, for shame... "I don't know. I've never really tried." She strokes my cheek. "You really think I have a nice voice?"

"Yes," I tell her, a little shyly. "More than nice. It's beautiful, like... like music, made of liquid silver and moonlight."

Hawke's face lights with a radiant smile at my words. "Oh, Maker, you're beautiful," she whispers, bending to press a soft kiss to my brow. "I missed you so much."

"And I missed you, ma vhenan," I reply seriously as she draws back. "Or I would have, if I hadn't been sleeping."

She gives a small laugh, eyes shining, and then she falls silent, just watching me quietly, running her fingers gently through my tangled hair as I rest against the pillows. I lean happily into her touch, closing my eyes as a small, contented sigh escapes me.

"Are you tired?" she asks softly, her hand pausing in its movements.

I shake my head quickly without opening my eyes. I am, a little bit, but I don't want to go back to sleep, not yet. I've slept enough. Besides, I don't want to leave her, even to rest. And I don't want her to stop what she's doing. "No, Hawke. I'm just happy. I don't want to sleep. Don't stop, please."

Hawke resumes her soft stroking. After a moment her fingers leave my hair, only to begin gently tracing the vallaslin on my forehead.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful these are?" she says softly.

I open my eyes at the unexpected compliment. "You think so?"

She nods. "They're lovely. I haven't seen any other Dalish with markings quite like yours."

"Oh, no, you wouldn't have," I tell her, very much enjoying the sensation of fingertips running gently over my skin. "The design of each vallaslin can vary, as long as their underlying symbols are still clear. I designed mine myself as part of my Keeper training, so they look a bit different to anyone else's."

"You designed them? Well then, no wonder they're so lovely," Hawke says, her voice warm. "Since they came from such a beautiful soul."

Oh! I feel a slow, bashful smile creep across my face as I blush in surprise and pleasure. "Thank you, ma vhenan. You're very sweet."

"Really?" she asks, sounding amused and a little embarrassed, in a cute sort of way. "I thought that sounded a bit silly after I said it."

I shake my head. "Well, I don't think so. But even if it had, I like it when you're silly, remember?"

"Oh, yes," she chuckles. "Silly me." She moves her hand down to follow the patterns on my cheek. I shiver a little at her touch. In a good way, of course. A very good way... "So then, why doesn't anyone else wear your vallaslin designs?" Hawke asks, still tracing them softly. "It's surprising, considering how exquisite they are. I know I'd pick them in a heartbeat, if I were Dalish."

"Well," I say slowly, most of my attention fixed on the feel of her gentle caress. "They could have asked for them if they wanted, of course, but the da'len who have become adults since I went through the ritual have all chosen to represent different gods."

"What do you mean?" Hawke asks curiously, her fingers still softly stroking my skin.

I take a breath and think for a moment about how to explain. Or... or I try to... It's getting very hard to pull my focus away from the gentle movement of her hand... "Well... um... once... once a da'len is of an age to become an adult, and if... if the Keeper decides they are... ready for... the responsibility, then they are allowed to undergo the ritual," I manage to tell her eventually, trying to slow my breathing a little. I pull myself together as best I can, wanting to explain this to her properly. "Wearing the vallaslin is a privilege. It reminds us that we are free, and of what that freedom cost our people. And that we will never again surrender our traditions and beliefs. 'Vallas' means writing, and 'lin' means blood, because the ink used in the ritual is made from our own blood. It's not blood magic or anything," I clarify hastily. "Just a part of the tradition. It is a mark of adulthood."

She nods. "Yes, I heard you telling Fenris as much, once. But what did you mean about representing the gods?"

I run my fingers across my other cheek. "Each design is based on the symbols of the Creators. Before receiving the vallaslin, each da'len must meditate on what each of our gods embodies, and find the one they feel they identify with the most. They must be sure, for they will wear the symbols of their chosen god for the rest of their lives. It is an important decision, the first truly adult choice any of us makes," I explain, noting again with delight the expression of utter enthrallment on her face. I've never known anyone to be so interested in Dalish lore, and she isn't even Dalish! "We must examine our own deepest nature, and make a fitting choice for the god we wish to represent on the earthly plane."

"Which Creator did you choose?" Hawke asks, her eyes bright with fascination, and then her eyebrows draw together a little worriedly. "It isn't rude to ask that, is it?"

I chuckle warmly. "No, of course not. It's no secret. I chose to represent Falon'Din. It felt like the best choice for me."

Hawke blinks, her hand stilling against my cheek. "Falon'Din... the Friend of the Dead?" she asks quietly, and suddenly I remember the last time I would have had cause to mention his name to her. In the Deep Roads, when we buried her brother...

I nod slowly. "Son of Mythal and Elgar'nan. He is the gentle guide of lost souls."

Hawke worries at her lower lip for a moment. "Perhaps I need to know more about him, but... I'm not certain why you think someone like you would best represent... death," she says, sounding hesitant. "The 'gentle' part I can see, but..." She trails off and gives me a questioning, slightly uncertain look, silently asking me to explain.

I think for a moment. "Well... technically, he isn't a god of death as we would understand it now. Or he wasn't always, anyway. The immortal Elvhen of old knew nothing of death after all, as the lore says. The hahren who entered uthenera would walk the shifting Fade paths beyond the Veil with Falon'Din, learning the secrets of dreams." I watch her as I speak, trying to see if I am making sense to her, at all. It's hard trying to explain about such a spiritual choice to someone who knows so relatively little of the ways of the People. But she will understand. Sometimes it seems as though she knows me better than I know myself, as though her wondrous eyes truly can see into my soul. "So when they woke... they would return to the People with... with the newfound knowledge that Falon'Din lead them to. Knowledge that would bring strength and power to the Elvhen."

"Ah," Hawke says, and the sound is full of comprehension, just as I expected. "Now I can see why that would appeal to you."

I smile at her. I knew she would see. "Yes. It seemed to me to be the perfect choice for a Keeper... as I was to be, then..." I shake my head a little, not wanting to dwell on all that right now, and cast about for a more pleasant line of thought. "Not that every Keeper has Falon'Din's markings, of course. Marethari's are those of his twin brother, Dirthamen, the Keeper of Secrets. But there are other designs besides that as well, of course. There are symbols for each of the gods."

"Like Mythal?" Hawke asks, and I nod.

"Yes. The All-Mother, Protector of the People, Goddess of Motherhood and Justice. She leads the pantheon with her bondmate, the All-Father Elgar'nan, God of Vengeance."

Hawke tilts her head questioningly. "What do their symbols look like?"

She is so full of questions! If only the da'len back in the clan had been half so eager to learn! "Well, I don't know if you will have met anyone with Elgar'nan's symbols, but Mythal's look like... um... like Fenarel's vallaslin. You've met Fenarel, haven't you?"

Hawke nods. "I think so, briefly. He's a clan hunter, isn't he? Pale blonde hair, green eyes? Quite serious; but with a distinct air of someone who tries too hard. Bit of a 'stick up his backside' sort of fellow."

"Yes, that sounds like him," I giggle. "A lot of the hunters end up choosing to represent Mythal, if they don't pick Andruil. Mahariel chose Mythal's symbols too." I look at Hawke closely for a moment as a thought suddenly strikes me. I know she isn't Dalish, or even elven, but... she always cares so much about the elves, and not just me, either. She is something of a defender of my people, in thought and word and deed. If anyone deserves to be honoured as a friend of the People, it is her. And she seems to find the idea very... intriguing, after all. At least, I think she does. "I think they would suit you, actually, ma vhenan."

She lifts her brows in surprise. "What?"

"The vallaslin," I explain. "I could give you the markings, if you wished it. I have been trained for it, after all. I know you don't know much about the Creators, but I could choose your symbols for you. Perhaps you could wear the markings of Mythal. You are my protector - well, you protect lots of people in fact, but me especially, of course - and you are such a wonderful protector, ma vhenan." She looks away at that, as though she didn't like hearing it. Probably because she still feels that she failed to keep me safe, even though it's silly of her to think that way. But if she doesn't feel right about it... "Or perhaps you could have the vallaslin of Andruil. She's the goddess of the hunt and sister of the moon, creator of the Vir Tanadhal," I offer gently instead. "And hawks are beloved animals of Andruil, after all." She looks at me again, gracing me with a small smile. I gaze back at her, imagining how the intricate lines would accentuate her pale skin and high cheekbones, how it would draw attention to her lovely eyes... not that the vallaslin is meant for that, of course, but... still...

I nod decisively. "Yes, that would suit you perfectly. What do you think?"

Hawke's smile widens as she raises an eyebrow at me. "You really want to give a Dalish coming-of-age ritual to a human?" She sounds a little doubtful, but she looks quite intrigued by the idea, I think. "Would you even be allowed to?"

"Well... there is a precedent for it," I tell her. "Sort of, anyway. One of Marethari's oldest scrolls mentions a human who helped defend the Sabrae clan when the Templars tried to wipe them out, a few centuries back. I remember it very well, because it was so... unusual. It's only a brief account, and not very clear, but it does mention something about the Keeper declaring the 'brave shemlen to be a "Defender of the People", granting him the Creators' protection, and making him one of us in spirit by marking his body with our blood.' That sounds like they gave him the blood writing as a sort of... badge of honour. And besides..." I smile a little bashfully, feeling suddenly bold... and a bit cheeky. Maybe more than a bit. "I've done lots of things I'm not really allowed to, lately." I reach out and run my fingers along her arm pointedly. "Haven't I, ma vhenan?"

Hawke gives a light laugh of surprise, like the singing of a crystal bell. At least, if there is such a thing, that's what it would sound like, I think. "I can't deny that," she smiles, and tilts her head at me, eyes sparkling. She lifts her hand to trail along the markings on my cheek again. "Though I might like to know what Andruil's symbols look like before I commit to having them permanently tattooed on my face," she jokes. Her fingers ghost along my jaw line and begin softly tracing the vallaslin just beneath my lips. "Are they as lovely as yours?"

"Oh, yes, I think so," I tell her distractedly, my breath quickening again at this intimate touch. "It's... it's mostly the hunters who end up choosing Andruil's markings... and they've been off... um... hunting, whenever we've been to the camp, so... so you won't have seen them, I don't think. I'll... I'll draw some for you later if you like. They look strong, and bold, and brave. They're really quite... quite beautiful."

"If you design some for me, then I have no doubt of that," Hawke says sweetly as she takes my chin lightly in her fingertips, leaning down to kiss me gently on the lips. I close my eyes and return it happily, reaching up and stroking the gentle curve of her ear, shivering as she returns the favour, as I feel her smile against me.

She draws back after a moment and I look at her seriously as she sits up again. "I did mean it, you know. I would give you vallaslin, if you wanted it. I think it would be very..." I trail off, lost in imaginings, picturing her with the intricate, graceful markings of the proud, beautiful goddess, so like Hawke...

"Very...?" she prompts gently after a moment, and I blink, coming back to myself.

"Very... um... attractive..." I finish, a little bashfully, but it's the truth. She would look lovely with vallaslin; though, of course, that is hardly the only reason I offer them to her. It sounds foolish in my head; too foolish to confide to Hawke, even, but... giving her the blood writing would be... my own way of protecting her. Asking the Creators to grant her their favour, to guard her and keep her safe. It would look very nice, though...

"Oh, is that so?" Her mouth curves in a sweet half smile. "Well in that case... I might just take you up on it," she chuckles warmly. "One day." Her head tilts slightly as she follows the lines of my vallaslin with her eyes. "It must hurt, though. My brother got a tattoo of a mabari at Ostagar, and he said it felt like getting branded with a hot iron, only very slowly. And that was just on his arm. I imagine it would feel far worse on such a more sensitive area."

I nod slowly. "It is... painful, yes. That's why it is so important that the da'len is truly ready. The clan Keepers can stop the ritual if they decide they are not, and no-one thinks poorly of them for it, or teases them about it. Or they're not supposed to, anyway. The thinking is that all children are different, and will cease to be children at different times. And as the stories go, our ancestors once took centuries to come of age. If the ritual must be stopped, it is not the fault of the child, but rather of those who wrongly believed the da'len to be ready to begin with." I pause for a moment, remembering. "Though for me, as the Keeper's First... while in theory the Keeper could have stopped the ritual for me, in reality it would have looked very, very bad if I had not been able to bear the pain in silence and become a full adult on the first try."

"That... must have been what you meant..." Hawke says to herself softly. She looks at me soberly. "After the wyvern attack, when you were... hurt... you said something about having to 'make no sound when receiving the vallaslin.'"

I frown. "Did I?"

She nods once; a pained look in her eyes. I suppose it probably isn't a pleasant memory for her. "You were... in agony," she says, looking down briefly. "You seemed to think you were undergoing the ritual again. Is that... what you were talking about? You have to stay quiet, no matter how much it hurts?"

"Yes. It is part of the tradition," I explain. I doubt telling her this will make her any more eager to let me perform the ritual on her, but I'm not about to lie. And she wouldn't have to stay quiet, anyway. Not that she wouldn't be able to of course, but she has already proven her courage, countless times. "Cries of pain are seen as signs of weakness, so you can't make a single sound when the Keeper is applying the markings. Tears are allowed - they are difficult to stop - but they must be silent. You must show that you are strong, and determined, and brave. It hurt very badly, I remember. And it took such a long time. I was scared I wouldn't be able to bear it, but I did."

"Well, of course you did, Merrill," Hawke says quietly. "You're the bravest person I know."

I blink at her in astonishment. "Me?" That can't be true. She's just being kind. "Don't be silly, ma vhenan."

She holds my eyes intently with her own. "I'm not, for once. You give yourself too little credit. Just think about what you are doing with the eluvian; leaving behind everything you've ever known to continue your work, all for the good of your people. Holding to your beliefs while everybody keeps telling you that you're wrong, even...well... everyone..." She trails off with a small sigh, and then smiles crookedly at me. "It takes a great deal of courage to do that. And you stuck with me throughout that whole blasted Deep Roads disaster without so much as a word of complaint."

I chuckle quietly. "I think my eagerness to follow you into the Deep Roads wasn't so much bravery as it was my being totally and utterly in love with you, Hawke."

A delighted smile plays over her lips at my words, and for a while it seems she can't speak. "Yes, well," she says after a moment, still smiling. "That's hardly all. You never hesitate in battle. Like when you were all alone against that bloody wyvern... keeping your head and stabbing it like that when it jumped at you... that took a great deal of courage. We saw the monster's body; you managed to stab the thing right in the heart as it was charging you, and saved us all. I just wanted to tell you how wonderfully brave you are. Though I knew it long before that, of course."

"It wasn't that impressive, really," I protest, though I feel pleasantly warm inside at hearing her say that. "It was more of an accident than anything else. Besides, I only did what I had to. If the wyvern had killed me, then it would have killed you next, and Anders and Fenris, and I couldn't let it."

"See?" Hawke smiles. "Brave. Instinctively courageous and selfless, not to mention amazing. Especially since Fenris's sword is nearly taller than you are. I'm not sure I could even have held onto it if it was me."

I shake my head at that. "Yes you could, Hawke, of course you could. You were so brave yourself, jumping on the wyvern's back like that when it was coming for me-"

"And then I got myself tossed against a wall like a ragdoll, leaving you to face it alone," she breaks in, her expression hardening as she looks away, shaking her head and looking very angry with herself, all of a sudden. "And after I promised to keep you safe. Some protector I am."

But she is a good protector. She can't stop anything from ever happening to me at all, though. "We only went to the Emporium in the first place because of my mirror. And anything can happen, ma vhenan; things beyond even your power to prevent. Stop beating yourself up about it," I insist. "You made another promise to me, remember? Not to blame yourself for things that are not your fault?" She still will not look at me. I take her hand, speaking with my best determined voice. "And this was not your fault, ma vhenan. I mean it," I tell her firmly. "Look at me, please."

She lifts her head slowly, her face suddenly crumpling as she gazes at me. "I just... when I was holding you, seeing you so badly hurt, and in so much pain... and there was nothing I could do... I've never been so terrified." Her voice trembles. "If... if you had died, I..."

Oh, Hawke...

"Shh, ma vhenan," I hush her, holding her hand tighter. "I'm alright now, I promise."

She takes a deep, controlling breath and manages a small smile. "I know," she says. "I just... I hate that you got hurt, and I couldn't prevent it, or do anything to help you..." She squeezes my hand, stroking the back of it gently with her thumb. "Though really, I suppose this is all because the bloody Antiquarian decided that simply asking for our blood was too direct-"

"Our blood?" I repeat, startled. What about our blood? Hawke blinks at me in apparent surprise as I tilt my head at her curiously. Maybe she didn't mean to say that out loud? Creators, it must have had something to do with those strange slashes on our hands... "What do you mean, Hawke? What did Xenon do?"

She sighs, glancing away. "I'll... explain later, if that's alright? It doesn't really matter right now, anyway. Not now that we're out of that wretched place, and you're out of danger and awake."

I hesitate, and then nod a little, accepting. "Alright, then." If she says she'll tell me later, then she will. I suppose it mustn't be that important. Though, that does remind me... "You did get the book I found, though, didn't you?" I ask her anxiously. "Before leaving the Emporium?"

"Of course, Merrill, don't worry," Hawke assures me, and gives a little nod over her shoulder at the little table in the corner. "It's over there on the desk. I'll bring it to you, if you like."

I turn my head towards her writing desk, trying to see - oh, yes, there it is, still carefully wrapped up. Suddenly I'm itching to hold it, to look at it, but it's... likely not the best idea, right now, just in case. The book is very old and very delicate, after all; I wouldn't want to drop it and hurt it. "Maybe later would be better, Hawke. But thank you."

"Alright," she says, and then her eyes widen as though suddenly remembering something. A look of excitement flashes across her face before she hurriedly composes it. I suppress a small frown; that was a little odd, wasn't it? "Actually, I do have something else for you, if you're interested," she says; her indifferent tone of voice completely at odds with her expression, just now.

I look at her in confusion. "From the Emporium? You bought something else as well?"

The corner of her mouth lifts in a secretive smile. "Yes and no."

Well, that explained everything, didn't it? What can she mean? What else did we get? I can't think what it could be... unless I forgot about it? "But we didn't get anything else down there, did we? At least, I only remember finding the one book..."

"No, it's nothing like that," Hawke laughs. "I got you... let's call it a gift."

Her words take a moment to sink in. "A... gift? Why?"

Hawke blinks once, and then tilts her head at me. "Because... well... why not?

She looks a bit taken aback, now. I suppose I probably didn't react the way people ought to when someone gives them a... a present. Oh, dear. I look up at her worriedly. "I've said something stupid, haven't I? I'm sorry. It's just..." How do I explain this? I know that gift-giving is practised often amongst humans, but... amongst the Dalish, it's... it's very different... I never thought about how to explain it. I didn't consider ever needing to... Oh, and now I've been silent for far too long, haven't I? Best just get it over with, then. I look down, twisting my hands together. "No one... no one has ever given me a present before."

"What?" Hawke's voice is full of surprise. I glance back up and find her staring at me in shock. "Really? No one's ever given you anything?"

"Useful things. Tools, or clothes, or... even shoes, sometimes..." I look at Hawke, feeling my lips curve fondly at the memory of being presented with a small pair of leather sandals in the Deep Roads. I still have them, hidden carefully away in my secret place. "Because I needed them, though. Not just... because."

Hawke stares at me in silence for a moment, and then shakes her head disbelievingly. "I can't believe the Dalish don't give each other gifts."

"W-well... we do, sometimes..." I explain quickly. "But... only in certain circumstances. Certain... um... social rituals."

"Like what?" Hawke asks, giving me a small but very mischievous smile. "Courting?"

"No," I smile back. "That... wouldn't be seen as appropriate, not before... um... that is..." I feel myself about to start rambling and bite my tongue for a moment before going on more slowly. This shouldn't be so... so awkward, surely, not with Hawke. "Gifts are usually only exchanged after... after a couple is... bonded," I manage at last, feel the blood rush to my cheeks. Hawke just waits, watching me, incomprehension clear on her face. I take a deep breath. "You know... married."

"Oh!" Hawke raises her eyebrows a little, then smiles. "Right. Well... humans give gifts to people they love all the time, married or otherwise, so... you're just going to have to get used to it, I'm afraid. And if you've never received a present before, then, well... I think I'd better start making that up to you right now." Her smile widens into another secretive grin. "Though this particular gift will certainly be hard to beat, I think. Now, close your eyes, love."

Close my eyes? What for? I tilt my head at her curiously. "Why? Is this... is this part of getting a present?"

"Sometimes," Hawke answers. "Usually if it's not wrapped."

Wrapped? "Presents are supposed to be wrapped, then?" She nods, looking increasingly amused by my persistent questioning. I'm not done yet, though. Besides, how else will I learn? "Why?"

"Because it's fun. And it's more of a surprise that way," Hawke replies.

Why didn't she wrap this present, then, whatever it is? Not that I'm not grateful, of course, but... it would be nice to do it properly. "Unwrapping presents sounds like fun, though!" I tell her excitedly. "Could you wrap it in something now? I don't mind waiting a little."

"Oh, I doubt he would like-" Hawke begins, and then stops quickly, looking faintly annoyed with herself. "That is... I mean... I don't think it's a good idea to try and wrap this... particular present," she finishes instead.

She doesn't think 'he' would like something? Who is he? And what wouldn't he like? I peer at her in bewilderment. This is all getting very confusing. "What do you mean, Hawke?"

But she bites her lips as though to stop herself speaking and shakes her head a little, smiling at me. "Just... just close your eyes before I say too much," she tells me firmly, and raises a finger in playful warning. "And no peeking!"

"Yes, ma vhenan." I shut my eyes tight, and cover them over with my fingers for emphasis. I feel her leave the bed, hear her cross the room a few steps, and even though she told me not to look, I can't resist peeking through my fingers, just a little... There she is, crouching on the hearth rug next to her dozing mabari, bending over that small woven basket by the fire again, just like when I woke. So that's where my present is, then? Whatever could be in there, I wonder? Hawke reaches into the basket, and I strain my eyes trying to see what is inside, burning with curiosity... then cover them up again hurriedly she starts to straighten. I don't want her to see me looking, not after she told me not to! I try my hardest to look innocent, keeping my hands firmly over my eyes as she sits beside me on the bed again.

"Now hold out your arms."

I do as she tells me without questioning her this time, reaching out both hands into the darkness, though this seems even stranger than asking me to shut my... oh!

I manage to keep my eyes closed, but only just, gasping at the unexpected warmth as Hawke puts... something... into my arms, something small, and furry, and... breathing?

Something... alive?

"Alright," Hawke says, a trace of delighted anticipation and laughter in her voice. "Now you can look."

I open my eyes, and look down at... at...

Oh...

But...

How...

But it can't be...

I... I thought I was awake... how can I still be dreaming? But... it feels so real...

I stare downwards, my eyes wider than I thought they could go as I try to... to think... this... how could it be, how... it can't be... but... but it is...

IT IS!

"Hawke," I whisper. That's all I can make my voice do, right now... "This... this... it's... a griffon. A... a-a baby griffon! It is, isn't it?"

Hawke nods. "I saw it and thought of you," she says, her voice carefully casual and a small but very cheeky smile on her face. "Do you like it?"

Do... do I like...? "I... I... Elgar'nan, Mythal, Andruil!" I take a huge, deep breath and let it out in a scream of utter, utter delight;

"Oh, Hawke!"

The sound disturbs the tiny baby griffon in my arms, and he opens his sweet little eyes with a startled chirp, his little white furry sides rising and falling rapidly as he wakes from his dream. He peers up at me, blinking, and then he gives a happy little cry of surprise and snuggles into me, nuzzling his little feathery, furry, pointy-eared head against my chest.

Oh, oh, oh!

Mythal'enaste!

"I think he likes you," Hawke says softly.

I drag in breath after amazed, astounded, astonished breath, unable to look away from him. "Oh, Creators! Oh! Oh, hello, little sweetheart! Oh, you beautiful little thing!" He purrs contentedly, and I manage to tear my gaze away to look up at Hawke, who is watching me with a wide, happy smile. "I can't believe... You... you got me... you got me a... a griffon... How... how did... you... I can't... where...?"

Oh, yes, very good, Merrill. You can start making sense anytime, now.

The little griffon makes a small but demanding sort of chirp and paws gently at my cheek, and I return my attention to him, distracted from interrogating Hawke for the moment. He twists his head curiously as he peers up into my face, his tiny forepaws kneading me gently, and I can do nothing but gaze at him, completely dumbstruck. A real... baby... griffon... I stare in wonder, drinking in the sight of this impossible little marvel, this little griffon... a griffon! He is pure white, just like the stories say, with a fresh, slightly scruffy, recently bathed sort of look. I examine every inch of him thoroughly, gently stroking his furry little toes, looking at the large, round, bright blue eyes in his little eagle head, topped with large furry ears just like a cat's... they look too big for him, but then, I suppose he will grow into them, won't he? I ignore his loud squall of protest against the indignity as I turn him about, lifting his little tail to see... yes, he's definitely male, just like I thought. His body is rather like that of a mountain lion cub, with four little paws and a tufted tail, the fur changing to feathers across his little shoulders where a pair of white wings sprout from his back. His coat looks healthy, although he is quite thin - as though until recently he hasn't had enough to eat for quite some time, poor little fellow. He'll be alright now, with us, now that Hawke saved him from... wherever she got him... where could she have gotten him, this... this little miracle...

Oh, Creators... I suppose I must have done some things right, for you to bless me twice so close together. Giving me Hawke, and a baby griffon both... oh...

Thank you... thank you!

I stroke the little creature's furry ears, and he gives a happy little cheep, closing his eyes blissfully as he nestles into me. I lift my head to look at Hawke again, and her eyes sparkle as she watches me. I can only imagine how joyful I must look... oh, oh, Hawke... "Where... where in the name of the Creators did you find him?" I ask her, my voice hushed with wonder and excitement and a little disbelief, still. But he's real, he is, a baby griffon! My mind whirls, and I ask the first thing that comes into my head, the only thing that could make any sort of sense. "Was he down in the ruins, too? In the cells, like the wyvern?"

"He was," Hawke says, nodding. "Though technically it was you who found him. He was the 'bird' that beast was hunting."

"Oh." I look down at the little fellow sympathetically."Of course you were, you poor little thing." The little griffon chick covers his eyes with the edge of his little white wing, peeking at me through the feathers, as though trying to remind me of the moment I found him. I giggle, rubbing his back. He is adorable! "Oh, don't worry, I remember you. Who could forget such a fine fellow?" He resettles his wings along his back and straightens, puffing out his little chest proudly. I smile fondly at him. "You look even more handsome now, though, if I may say so. All clean, and healed. I hope that awful wyvern didn't hurt you too badly." He gives a mewling little whine, flattening his little ears against his head sadly, and I nod seriously. "Yes, I know. It must have been absolutely terrifying, being hunted by such a monster. I know how frightened I was when it turned on us. But you're alright, now! And you were very brave, and very clever to get away from it the way you did." He purrs, and I smile at him. "You're very welcome."

I look at Hawke again, who has been following our little exchange with obvious delight, and a little amusement, I think. "Can he fly?" I ask her excitedly.

She bites her lip thoughtfully, looking at the griffon in my arms. "I'm not certain. His wing was injured when we found him. Anders healed it, but even so, I haven't seen any evidence that he can fly, yet. He may be too young."

I feel a frown cross my face as I glance down at him. "Then... how will he learn without his parents to teach him? Should we... should we try to find them, do you think?" I ask reluctantly. The little fellow gives a keening, plaintive cry, lowering his ears sadly. "Not that I don't want to keep you, of course!" I reassure him quickly. "But wouldn't you like to find your family?" He rests his head against my chest, looking up at me with big eyes.

"Looks like he'd rather be with you," Hawke says softly. "Can't say I blame him. There's no way of knowing where he came from anyway; it would be next to impossible to find them."

I nod slowly. "I suppose it would. Especially if griffons move around like the Dalish clans so that people can't track them."

"They must do, since no one has seen one for centuries," Hawke agrees.

I feel a wide grin spreading across my face. "I guess this means we're keeping him!"

Hawke smiles at the unrestrained joy in my voice. "You'd better give him a name, then," she says. "Do you still want to call him Feathers?"

I don't even have to think about it; I always wanted a baby griffon called Feathers. "Yes," I answer promptly.

Hawke grins. "And you're sure you don't want to give him a more... heroic name?"

"I like Feathers," I protest. "It's the name I had in mind ever since I first decided I wanted a griffon of my own, back when I was a little girl and my mother would tell me stories about the Grey Wardens and their heroic griffon mounts, always swooping in and saving the day." The little griffon lifts his head, perking his ears up interestedly and cocking his head to the side in an inquisitive sort of way. I nod at him. "Yes, brave, heroic griffons, just like you. What do you think, little one? My little Feathers?" Feathers gives a happy little cheep, and I smile. "See? He likes it."

"Feathers it is, then," Hawke says, grinning. "As long as everyone's happy. I'm sure we'll be able to work out how to teach him to fly and hunt, and... whatever else griffons do. I'll bet Mother will have some ideas; she was quite good at figuring out his needs. Skills of motherhood, I suppose. She mostly looked after him while I took care of you. We weren't too sure what he's supposed to eat, at first, but Mother found something he liked eventually, although my poor old dog isn't too happy about it," she says. "Apparently mabari crunch is also griffon chick crunch." The poor old dog in question huffs grumpily from his place by the fire. Hawke turns her grin on him, and then looks back at me, eyes twinkling with delight as I giggle at them both happily. Talking of her mother, though... it is odd that Hawke hasn't gone to tell her I'm awake, now.

"Where is Leandra?" I ask curiously.

"The carriage came to take her a day ago," Hawke replies. Oh, yes; Leandra's trip to Ostwick, to see her friend with the funny name. "Good timing, since she wouldn't have left until she knew you would be alright."

I blink at her, touched. "Really?"

She nods "She was very worried about you. Almost as much as I was."

"Oh, she is very kind!" I exclaim, smiling. "But I would have felt awful if she'd had to delay her trip because of me."

"She wouldn't have cared about that," Hawke says. "She would have stayed for as long as it took you to wake, commitments be damned. It worked out quite well in the end, though, all things considered." She smiles. "Bodahn and Sandal went with her too, so we have the house to ourselves."

No wonder it seems so much quieter, then, if Hawke and I are alone, now. Apart from the dog and the griffon, of course. And she's had to manage them both alone, and me as well... she must be so tired. My poor Hawke. "You've been looking after both me and a baby griffon all by yourself since they left, then?"

"And doing fairly well, if I do say so myself," she answers, smiling at me, and then reaching out to Feathers, scratching his throat. "Haven't I, little fellow?" He purrs happily, and she smiles at him. At the griffon she got me... Oh, she is so wonderful. My very own griffon...

My vision swims suddenly, and I sway a little, blinking. Oh... I guess I must be more tired than I thought... Hawke grasps my shoulders gently, steadying me as she gazes into my face with a look of concern. She slips her arm around my shoulders and lays me back down into the pillows. "I think it might be time for that healing, now," she says. I feel her summon her mana as she starts to work a creation spell...

Feathers chirps at her, and she glances at him, then pulls back, smiling in amusement. She gives him a sort of 'after you' gesture, and I frown a little, glancing between them. What is going on? Feathers picks his way carefully up the blankets and sits down on my chest. He settles himself comfortably, and then opens his little beak and starts to... sing? I stare in amazement as his feathers begin to shine with pure light... then gasp as I feel the gentle touch of magic... but... it isn't Hawke's magic... it can't be coming from him, surely...

Can it?

"Oh! What... what is he doing? It feels like... like..." I gaze from Feathers to Hawke and back again, feeling my eyes widen. "It's like he's... healing me."

"He is, a little," Hawke says, watching him. I can hardly believe it... I... I never knew griffons could do this! "He's been helping me take care of you."

Feathers stops his little purring, cheeping song and gives a proud, bell-like peep, bobbing his head in agreement. I smile at him. He is very cute, and so clever! And he... he has magic... "Well... I... Thank you, Feathers." He chirps happily in reply, fluttering his little wings in excitement, and I look at Hawke. "I've never heard of griffons having magic, before. Have you?"

Hawke shakes her head. "But then, it's been two hundred years since anyone has seen one. Who knows how much about them has been forgotten? Or perhaps the ones the Wardens bred largely lost their talents in captivity."

Just like when the magisters enslaved the Elvhen. "He's like... a mage griffon, then?"

Hawke grins. "Yes, I suppose he is. A little apostate griffon chick." She gazes at Feathers fondly. "How very appropriate."

Feathers blinks his bright little eyes and then snuggles up to me with a yawn.

I bite back a smile, stroking his little ears. "I... think he's tired himself out."

"Looks like I'll have to take it from here, then," Hawke smiles. She picks Feathers up, hushing him as he gives a sleepy little cry of protest. "Come on, little fellow, off to bed. Don't worry, I'll look after her until you wake up." I hear him start to snore gently almost the moment after Hawke puts him back in his little basket by the fire, and I barely manage to suppress a sudden fit of silly, euphoric giggling. A griffon... I have a baby griffon!

A magical, singing, snoring baby griffon...

"Watch over him for me, boy?" Hawke asks her dog, still lying on the hearth hug. He gives a quiet bark of reassurance, lowering his head onto his paws and fixing his gaze steadily on the basket concealing the sleeping baby griffon. My griffon.

My Feathers.

I stare wonderingly at Hawke as she moves back to the bed to sit next to me. She got me a baby griffon... "I... I can hardly believe I'm not still dreaming..."

Hawke smiles, leaning down to place a soft, chaste kiss on my lips. "It's no dream, my love," she says gently. "I promise." She presses a hand to my forehead, and I gaze up at her hopefully; she is still going to give me a healing, isn't she? Oh, I hope so... it's such a wonderful feeling...

"Did Feathers leave anything for me to do?" Hawke asks as she reads my mind, again. "Do you still want me to-"

I nod eagerly. "Oh, yes, Hawke, please."

"As you wish," she says, smiling at my enthusiasm. She pauses for a moment, tilting her head curiously at me. "How do you say that in elven?"

"Ma nuvenin," I tell her. She really does want to learn elven, then. Somehow I find that very... thrilling.

Hawke smiles. "Ma nuvenin, Merrill," she repeats carefully, and I smile back. She is so cute.

She gently pulls the blanket down a little, exposing my chest, and begins running her fingers softly over my skin as she examines the nearly-gone scars carefully. I shiver pleasurably at her attentions, my breath growing rapid as magic sparks from her fingertips, raising chill bumps on the surface of my skin where it brushes me gently. Hawke pauses, glancing at me. "This doesn't hurt you, does it?"

"No. Oh, no, Hawke. It certainly doesn't." I shake my head slowly. "Quite the opposite, actually..."

"Oh." She lifts her eyebrows a little in surprise, smiling as she takes my meaning. "Well, then. I suppose I needn't hold back. Try not to let yourself get too excited, though," she laughs with gentle humour, and I bite back a bashful grin, feeling myself blush. "You'll probably want to rest a bit more, when I'm done."

I start to tell her I'm not that tired, not really, but she reaches for her mana again and I fall silent as she pours her magic inside me, losing myself in the sensation... this wonderful sensation as her spirit flows through me, surging, tingling... oh... it feels so nice...

I have to repress a disappointed whimper when she draws her mana back into herself at last. That didn't take long... not as long as I hoped, anyway... It certainly worked, though, leaving me feeling better, and much stronger. Though also, strangely... empty, and bereft, like I still need something... more...

"Tired now?" she asks softly.

Tired... perhaps. Rest might be what I need, I suppose. Healing does place a little stress on the both the healer and the patient, because it forces the body to change quicker than it wants to, using the mana of the healer and the patient's own reserves of strength. At least that's what I've gathered from what Hawke and Anders have told me, though I've never been any good at understanding creation magic, myself. "Maybe a bit, now," I admit, looking up at her. "I don't really want to go to sleep, though... and I don't want to leave you alone again."

"I'll be right here, watching over you, Merrill." She smiles wryly. "And I'll have my brave old mabari war hound watching over me, not to mention a heroic and fearsomely fluffy baby griffon." I giggle, and she runs the backs of her fingers over my cheek, so gently, so lovingly... "It's alright, love. Rest."

I suppose... it wouldn't hurt to sleep a bit. I won't have any more of those strange memory dreams now, with my mana restored after all... but I don't know that I really want to go into the Fade alone. I could ask Hawke to give me a sleep spell again, but then... she just gave me a big healing... and she can't have had much sleep herself, these past few days, she must be exhausted. I don't want her over-reaching herself working another spell on me, and I probably should sleep, but... I want Hawke to be with me.

"Alright, ma vhenan. I will. But only if you get some rest too," I tell her. She opens her mouth to protest, and I speak over her quickly. "When did you last sleep, Hawke? And for how long? No more than a few hours, I bet."

"I..." Her mouth closes, and she looks a bit abashed. "Well..."

I look at her seriously. "Sleep with me, Hawke." She grins, quirking an eyebrow at me, and I giggle as I blush, realising what I said. "Oh, you know what I mean." I pat the covers next to me. "Lie down, Hawke. Get some rest. For me?"

"Alright, then," she says softly, smiling. "Ma nuvenin."

She moves around to the empty side of the bed and reaches out to pull back the blankets. I frown a little. She's coming to bed fully clothed?

Oh, no, now that won't do at all...

I reach out and touch her arm gently, stroking the silky fabric of her house robe. "Aren't you going to take this off?" I ask her, trying to mimic the way she sounded when she asked the same thing of me, that night we spent together, sleeping, in my house. She hesitates, looking at me uncertainly, and I smile teasingly, enjoying the surprise in her eyes at my behaviour. I can't help it, I just seem to find myself growing bolder around her. I'm not afraid to ask for what I want, now. I've no need to be. "It just doesn't look too comfortable to sleep in," I say, trying to copy her lovely Ferelden accent, tempered with the gentle inflections of her mother's high-born speech. Such a beautiful voice she has, my Hawke. "That's all."

She grins slowly at me. "Cheeky."

I bite my lip, though I know it wasn't a rebuke. "I just... I want to... to be as close to you as I can," I explain quietly. "Besides... if I'm naked, then you should be too. It's only fair."

"Fair enough," Hawke laughs. She unties the cloth belt of her robe, slipping it off quickly and letting it fall to the floor, then hurriedly begins to unwind her breastband.

"No need to rush so, ma vhenan," I tell her softly. Boldly. "Take your time... please."

Hawke looks at me for a moment, and then another slow smile spreads across her face. She takes off her breastband with deliberate slowness and then leisurely removes her smalls as I watch appreciatively, the firelight playing over her bare skin in tantalising wisps of light and shadow... Oh... She's so beautiful... I feel a foolish smile curve my lips as Hawke slips beneath the covers, wrapping her arms about me carefully and pressing her naked body gently against my side. Her hand strokes gently through my hair, and I sigh happily at the feel of her skin against mine... oh, it's wonderful...

"Better?" Hawke whispers as I curl my arms about her.

"Oh, yes..." I breathe, smiling into her eyes. "Thank you, ma vhenan."

She chuckles warmly, placing a feather-light kiss on my shoulder. "My pleasure." She lies still for a moment, gazing at me. "Merrill?" she asks suddenly. "What's the word for 'you' in elven?"

"Emma," I answer immediately without thought, only belatedly wondering what inspired her to ask. It was a little... out of nowhere, really, wasn't it?

"Emma?" Hawke repeats, frowning a little. "But... you said 'ma nuvenin' means 'as you wish.' And what about in 'ma vhenan'? You said that meant 'my heart'. Does 'ma' mean 'you' or 'my'? Or both?"

She really must be interested in learning the elven language, then. I swear; I have never known anyone to be such an eager student. "It means 'you', mostly, but sometimes 'ma' is short for 'emma', which is 'my'," I tell her patiently.

"Ah. Alright, then." She nods thoughtfully. "And how do you say 'one'?" I have to suppress a smile of amusement. I don't mind at all, of course. I just thought she wanted me to rest. Does she really want a lesson now? She seems to feel something of my puzzlement, because she chuckles a little, stroking my cheek. "I'm sorry, I do plan to let you sleep, but... I just want to know two more words. What's 'one' in elven?"

I smile at her persistence. "One is 'sa'," I say, indulging her. She isn't going to rest until she knows.

"Sa," she repeats carefully, and then whispers to herself, "Emma... sa... my one..."

"And the other word?" I ask. She said she wanted to know two, after all.

Hawke rests her cheek on the top of my head. "Love."

Oh. "Lath," I tell her softly.

"That's all I wanted to know," she whispers. "Ma serannas... emma sa'lath."

My one love.

Oh... Hawke...

I feel my throat tighten. She... she came up with an elven endearment on her own... just for me... oh... "Ma vhenan... You are so... so... wonderful."

"Am I, now? Then aren't we a pair," Hawke chuckles. She gives a happy sigh, tilting her head a little to look down at me. "I almost can't believe how much I love you."

"It's amazing how you can do that. Read my mind that way," I tell her softly, smiling up at her with all my love as I press my hand over her heart... which begins to race wildly at my touch. "I was thinking just the same thing about you."

She smiles at me and suddenly... suddenly, I don't feel the least bit tired anymore. She looks so beautiful, lying there with her lovely eyes sparkling in happiness and love, her hair gleaming in the soft light of the fire, her pulse flying beneath my fingertips and well... sleep can wait a bit, I think. Besides... I don't think sleep is what I need, right now. No... I think what I need is...

Her.

"You know... I don't think I'm quite ready to rest again, ma vhenan. Not yet," I tell her, running my hand along her arm. Her breathing falters, and her eyes widen. I smile into them, pleased at her response to my touch. "I think I'm... hungry."

"Oh." Hawke blinks, then moves as though to sit up. "Then I'll go to the kitchens, get you something more substantial. Would you like some bread, perhaps, or maybe-"

I push her back down gently, keeping her in her place with my hand over her heart. "No, ma vhenan," I giggle softly, and then my voice becomes lower, taking on that purring, husky quality apparently quite of its own accord. "I am not hungry for food."

"Ohh..." Hawke says, smiling slowly in realisation, her eyes growing dark as she gazes at me, her pale cheeks tinged with a very lovely crimson blush. Her smile falls a little, and a worried look comes into her eyes even as her hold on me tightens. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

"Stop worrying," I tell her. "I'm perfectly fine. And..." I reach out with my other hand and stroke her cheek gently, once. "It's my turn to give you a gift, now."

"You are a gift to me," Hawke says quietly. "Nothing I can give you could ever equal the way you make me feel."

I smile at her sweetness. "Well... there's no harm in trying, ma vhenan. Think of it as giving me another present instead, then, if you prefer," I whisper softly, holding her gaze. I feel her heart race ever faster beneath my fingers as her eyes grow large with... desire. I think this is the moment to press my advantage, and... how would Isabela put it? Make a move on her? I press myself against her more tightly, looking at her with my best pleading expression. "Please, ma vhenan?"

"Oh, no, not the 'you kicked my puppy' voice..." she laughs softly. She raises herself up on her elbow, gazing me up and down with a slow, fiery stare, her deep blue eyes suddenly burning ravenously as she tilts her head. "Now that you mention it, I have something of an appetite myself..." Her hair falls into her eyes, and all at once I'm falling into them too, feeling my own heart start to beat wildly in my chest, and I feel it again, that powerful need, that longing, and I can't help myself. I need her.

Now.

I gaze into her magical, wondrous eyes for a moment, then lean over and kiss the side of her throat gently, and she gasps as a small tremor runs through her body. She likes it as much as I do, it seems. Good. I raise my mouth to her ear. "Ma emma vhenan'ara," I murmur softly. "Ma'arlath. Ma'arnuvenin."

"And... what... what does that mean?" she whispers haltingly as I press the full length of my body against her and place another soft kiss on her throat.

I draw back, just a little, and look into her eyes. "Let me show you."

I cradle her face in my hands and then I push her insistently down into the pillows, kissing her almost fiercely with the sudden strength of my need, my want. She takes me in her arms, her fingers drifting slowly up my spine, and then suddenly she flings back the blanket and flips me very gently onto my back, cradling me tenderly, laughing at my squeak of surprised delight.

"I think I can guess," she whispers wickedly as she leans down to trail kisses over my throat, her lips tracing their way up to that place beneath my ear, and I gasp as I feel her teeth graze the sensitive skin of my lobe.

But... I want... this time, I want to take care of her, first... "Hawke..."

She lifts her head to look at me questioningly. "What's the matter?"

"Let me... let me please you, ma vhenan..." I gaze at her plaintively, trying to use that... what did Hawke call it? That 'you kicked my puppy' voice... "Please?"

Hawke chuckles. "Careful, love," she says teasingly. "Try that on me too often, and I'll start to build up a resistance." She draws back a little. "Besides, who is the healer, here?"

I blink in confusion at the unexpected question. "You?"

"I am indeed," she nods authoritatively. "So no more arguing. Healer's orders. I am taking care of you, so... lay back, now." She smiles as she presses me gently into the pillows, holding herself above me. "Emma sa'lath."

Ohhh... those words... and that voice...

Her lips find my throat again, one warm, tender hand slipping down my body, caressing, stroking, making me shiver with pleasure, and I close my eyes in utter bliss.

"Say it again, Hawke..." I whisper. "Speak elven for me, please..."

"Emma Merrill. Emma sa'lath..." she breathes into my ear, and I shiver again at the sound of the elven words of love on her lips, sure that my heart will burst with happiness any moment, feeling my entire body tremble with desire. With... hunger.

"Again, ma vhenan..."

"Ma nuvenin... ma sa'lath..."

Ohhh...

I keep my eyes shut as my hands roam the length of her body, from the soft skin at the nape of her neck and over her back to the firm muscles of her slender waist, giving over all my awareness to the feel of her, to touching her, and I pull her down to me, hearing her moan softly into my mouth as her breasts press into mine. She lets her mouth trail down my cheek to my throat, kissing, nibbling, nuzzling me gently and making me lean my head back deeper into the pillows as she follows the line of my collarbone down to my shoulder and back again. I tighten my arms about her, and then my eyes fly open as I feel her reach around behind herself without lifting her lips from my skin, encircling my left wrist with careful fingers and raising it as she gently grasps my right arm with her free hand, loosely pinning both my wrists above my head.

Hawke pulls her mouth away from my throat and raises herself up a little, kneeling over me as I look up at her, trusting but questioning. She smiles at my curious surprise, and then slowly, teasingly, she runs the nails of her unoccupied hand lightly over my open palm and down along the inside of my arm, the ghosting sensation raising chill bumps over my skin.

Oh!

She leans over me, following the shivery trail with a line of kisses, soft as a feather touch, at first, each one growing longer and deeper than the next and I watch her, helpless with wonder, as she makes her way to the inner crook of my elbow, her eyes closed in blissful concentration as she reaches the spot and lingers for a moment, lips and teeth and tongue dancing over the soft, sensitive skin in the hollow of my arm, and I sink my teeth into my lower lip to keep from crying out... oh! I never would have thought... this... oh... it feels so wonderful... A breathless, thrumming sound fills my ears, and for a moment I think it must be the sleeping baby griffon purring...

An instant later, I realise it is me.

Hawke's fingers trail lazily down my other arm to stroke my breast, her nails tracing gentle circles about the tip before she cups it in her palm, kneading gently, and I arch my back, pressing into her hand, mewling softly. There's no other word for the sound that comes from my throat. She releases my arms and slips her other hand beneath my back, holding me to her as she nips at my earlobe gently, drawing a sharp, startled gasp from me as I tremble against her, the flames deep within me flaring and burning with heightened intensity.

She kisses along my throat and jaw, then back across my cheek, and I reach up to frame her face in my hands, sliding them up into her silky hair as her warm, soft lips find mine and her fingers drift along my ribs, down my side, running from my hip across the small of my back to my waist, stroking gently. She lays me back down again, holding my eyes as she slips a slender thigh between mine, and I open myself to her as she kneels before me, kissing her way along my body, lower and lower, until she is there... her tongue is like fire and water, flowing over me, inside me, filling me...

...oh!

... and then her hand is there, too, fingers stroking, caressing, delving into secret places in a primal rhythm, a rhythm my body seems to know, to understand, to match without thought, a timeless beat, an ageless dance, and I cry out, pleading, praying, praising with that one wondrous word; her name, as I feel the heat inside me building and building until I know I can't bear it any longer... and then the fire burns through every part of me, warmth and light and joy coursing through me and my eyes close tight as I surrender, shivering, shaking, quivering, floating up into the sky, amongst the clouds, flying...

I think I can see the stars...

Hawke holds me as my breathing slows, as my body gradually stops trembling, and I come back to her. "Better?" she asks, a cheeky note in her sweet voice.

I lift my head and kiss her deeply in answer. "That was... amazing..." I murmur breathlessly, my own voice full of wonder. "Wonderful... I... I don't have enough words for what that was."

"You don't need words, my love," Hawke says with a low laugh. "You made your enjoyment clear without them, just now." She presses her lips to my temple. "And it only gets better from here."

I sigh in utter contentment, filled with a happy glow. "It can't get any better than this, surely."

"You don't think so?" Hawke asks, sounding faintly amused. "Just you wait, emma sa'lath. You'll see."

"What will I see?" I ask, looking up at her curiously. Then it dawns on me. There's more? She must mean... other... things... like... like in Isabela's books, perhaps? Oh... Of course, I do know there is more, after all; I'd need to be very dull-witted indeed to be friends with Isabela for three years and still not realise that, but... just how much does Hawke know? And what sorts of things? Oh! Does she... does she know any... dirty spells, like Anders talks to Isabela about sometimes? I wonder where you learn such spells... "You mean... you know how to do more... um... things?"

"Oh, yes," she says, giving me an impish smile. Her voice becomes a low purr. "Not nearly as much as some people I could mention, of course, but even so... There's so much more to show you, and this is only the beginning."

I stare at her in wonder; I never dreamed it might get better than what she's done for me already... I can't even imagine how it could be... but I very much want to find out. For a moment I consider asking her to show me, but... no. There is something else I want much more, right now.

"There is plenty of time for that later, ma vhenan," I inform her, very seriously. I lift my hand to sweep a few loose strands of hair from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear and letting my fingers trail slowly down to rest in the hollow of her throat as I gaze into her lovely face. "It is my turn to take care of you, now."

Her eyes darken wonderfully at my words, and my touch. "Oh, Maker, Merrill..." Hawke says softly, then takes my hand in hers, pressing it over her heart, and I feel the wild, racing pulse dancing frantically beneath my fingers. "Can you feel what you do to me?" she asks, smiling into my eyes, and my own blood begins to race once more at what I see in hers.

"Oh... ma vhenan..." I whisper. I sit up slowly once I can manage it and push her gently onto her back, gazing into her eyes. She shifts a little, smiling as she opens her mouth to speak, and I place my fingers over her lips gently. "Hush. Lie still," I tell her softly, but still very firmly. "I want to look at you." She obeys, falling still and quiet at my words, just lying there beneath me, wide, iridescent eyes watching me as I gaze down at her, drinking in the breathtaking sight of her; the strong, lithe limbs, the taut, toned muscles of her body, the full curve of hip and breast and the soft, pearly glow of her skin... "You are so beautiful, my Hawke," I whisper, meeting her eyes with awe. "Ma vhenan."

I think swiftly as I gaze down at her, wondering where to begin, running briefly through the things that Hawke has shown me already, what I have found that makes her respond to me, and the bits and pieces gleaned from Isabela's books and stories. The nicer things, anyway. I just... I want to show Hawke just what I feel for her. I want this to be about... tenderness, gentleness, caring. About love... All l at once I know what to do, and I'm not anxious, anymore. There's no need to be. I've... done this before after all, and Hawke is good, and patient, and she loves me. And there is no longer any place for timidity or nervousness between us. Not here, not now. Not with this, and never with her. There's only trust, love, and... boldness.

I will not be a kitten tonight.

I run my hand down her arm and catch hold of her fingers, bringing them slowly to my lips, delighting in the little gasp and the soft whimper that comes from her throat as I kiss them, touching my lips to each line, each knuckle, each tiny little scar crossing the smooth, pale skin. Hawke draws in a long, low breath, and I turn her hand over, pressing my mouth to her palm, then her wrist, making my way along the outstretched limb, resting it back gently beside her as I kiss over her shoulder, her collarbone, feeling her begin to tremble beneath me as I move down further. I lay my hand flat against her hip and stroke slowly up the side of her body to caress her breast, so... soft, yet firm, so lovely...

So perfect...

Softly, tenderly, I kiss the underside of the other, again and again, moving in a slow, ever diminishing circle, smaller and smaller until I reach the peak and stay, taking the ready tip into my mouth as Hawke moans wonderfully and folds her arms about me, sighing wordless encouragement. I must be doing this right, then, I suppose. Good. I trail a hand lightly down her body in a sinuous line, the soft pads of my fingertips drifting gently over her stomach, feeling the muscles bunched tight beneath her smooth, sensitive skin quiver delightfully in response as she shivers and trembles.

"Merrill..." she whispers. "Oh, Merrill... please..."

I know what she is asking, and I smile. "Ma nuvenin, ma vhenan," I whisper back...

And then I pull away completely.

Hawke whimpers in protest, chest heaving as her eyes snap open at the absence of my touch. I meet her wide-eyed gaze and smile, teasingly, drawing out the moment as long as I can bear it, and then lower my mouth to her inner thigh, watching with utter fascination and delight as she follows my movement, eyes growing ever rounder and darker until my lips touch the soft flesh. I hear her moan softly, and smile as I kiss my way upwards, drowning my senses in the feel and scent and taste of her as I reach the place and capture her gently, exploring, discovering, my movements tentative at first, but they slowly become more insistent, more... ravenous, as her cries increase and intensify, growing longer and louder with every movement, every breath...

I lift away from her at the sound of one low, harsh moan and look up at her anxiously, unsure whether it was a cry of pain, or not. "Did I hurt you-"

"Maker, no, Merrill, please don't stop, don't you dare..." she whispers frantically between sharp, gasping breaths, and I smile in relieved delight and lower my head back down, teasing her, tasting her, devouring her as she moans rapturously, her fingers tangled gently through my hair...

...and then the moment comes and her back arches, her whole body tensing, my name on her lips as a hot shiver of ecstasy surges through her, again, and again, and again... I return to her arms, holding her tight as she quivers, and she cradles my head in her hands, pulling my mouth to hers in a deep, sweet kiss before she falls limp in my arms, her head dropping onto my shoulder with a beautiful, blissful sigh. I smile, and press my lips to her hair, full to bursting with happiness.

We lie like that for a few moments, Hawke's ragged breathing filling the air, and then Hawke rolls onto her back, pulling me with her so that I am lying half on top of her strong, slender form. I rest against her, looking down into her beautiful eyes and stroking her hair, feeling warm, and tender, and oh, so loved. Hawke's fingers trace idly over the skin of my back as she gazes up at me, smiling, her eyes full of light and wonder.

"You," Hawke says quietly once she can draw in breath enough to speak, "have been listening to some of Isabela's stories. In intimate detail." It is not a question, so I do not answer. Not in words. I only hold her tighter and bury my face in the crook of her shoulder, feeling the hum in her throat as she chuckles warmly. "Just as I thought." Her lips brush my temple. "You are incredible, my love."

I lift my head a little and look up at her, finding her gazing at me dreamily through half-lidded eyes. She is so beautiful, in every possible meaning of the word, in every possible way. I am so lucky to have her. So blessed. "Thank you, Hawke," I whisper, meaning many different things at once, and she smiles sleepily in reply, her eyes drifting closed.

A slight breeze glides across the room from a crack in the shuttered windows, and I shiver a little despite the warmth of the fire and of Hawke. I sit up despite Hawke's protesting murmur, pulling gently out of her embrace for just a moment to retrieve the crumpled blanket from the foot of the bed... and then abruptly freeze completely, staring.

Oh.

Oh, dear...

"Hawke," I whisper quietly, patting her arm gently to get her attention.

"Hmm?" she murmurs drowsily, opening her eyes a little.

"I think we, um... forgot about..."

I point over to the fireplace, and she lifts her head to see... and then her eyes widen and she gives a small, startled laugh at the sight of two pairs of bright, curious eyes peering at us from the hearth, both dog and baby griffon tilting their heads in an identical attitude of inquisitive wonder.

"So it appears," Hawke says wryly as she slowly sits up. I bite back a smile as she glares at her nosy mabari with mock reproof. "Yes?" she drawls slowly. "Do you see anything interesting?" He instantly looks away, apparently trying to look busy by gazing intently at the fire, then huffs warningly at the still-staring Feathers, who gives a startled cheep, glancing at him with wide round eyes, then ducks his little feathered head quickly out of sight below the rim of the basket. A moment later, very obviously exaggerated snoring issues loudly from within. Hawke looks at me, a wide, wry grin slowly curving her rosy lips, and then we burst into a fit of silly, elated giggles, both of us collapsing back against the pillows, shaking with quiet laughter. I cover us with the blanket as we lay down, marvelling at the blissful expression on her beautiful face as I settle beside her. I love the way her eyes smile when she laughs...

"Now would be a good time to rest, I think," Hawke says softly, once our laughter dies away at last. "Before we end up overdoing it, and you sleep for another week. I can't do that long without you. Not again."

I don't want that, either. Not a bit. I murmur a soft noise of agreement and she tightens her arms about me as she rests her head next to mine, drawing my body closer against her. I relax into her embrace, feeling a powerful wave of love as I look at her, wanting her to be the last thing I see as I close my eyes. Now, and for always. My beautiful, wonderful Hawke...

"I don't know what I'd do without you either, ma vhenan," I tell her softly as my eyes blink closed.

"You don't need to worry about that. I'll never leave you," she answers, her voice growing fainter as she slips into the Fade. "That's a promise. I love you, Merrill. Emma sa'lath."

"And I love you," I breathe as my heart flips over inside me. I will never tire of hearing those words from her, any more than I will of returning them. "More than words could ever say."

Hawke kisses my forehead tenderly. "We don't need words," she whispers simply, sleepily, her voice a hushed murmur of warmth and love.

We drift into sleep... safe in each other's arms... as our spirits take wing and soar into the Fade...

Together...

---

Elvish translations:

Ma emma vhenan'ara. - You are my heart's desire.

Ma'arlath. - I love you.

Ma'arnuvenin. - I want you.

Emma sa'lath - My one love.

My assignation of the Vallaslin Designs on the Dragon Age Wiki page (under Blood Writing):

For those who are interested, these are just my thoughts on the design meanings from the wiki page. Some were already assigned, but I don't know where the information came from. They seemed to fit, so I kept them. Sadly there is no official assignation of vallaslin designs to the gods they supposedly represent, other than a few tentative guesses on the Dragon Age wiki, and the fact that Merrill's DA2 tattoos appear to be completely unique make it even more difficult. Also some of the other elves in the camp seem to have been given different vallasin in DA2 as well, for some reason, though not unique designs like Merrill's. It all got a bit confusing but in the end I figured that Merrill's markings are probably simply an improved, prettier version of the ones she had in DAO, done to make her more distinctive and unique when the writers decided to make her a DA2 companion. Then of course I had to decide which god those were from, which led to figuring out the rest. It is just my opinion, though. Not official. But I want to try and make my story as fully fleshed and accurate as I can.

Design 1 - Mythal, Protector of the People. I felt most hunters would identify more strongly with the gods of hunting and protection, and a lot of the hunters have this design, both in Origins and DA2, and since Andruil (the goddess of the hunt) was already assigned, I decided this one must be Mythal.

Design 2- Ghilan'nain. Mother of the Halla. This design looked a bit like curling antlers to me, like Halla. And the lines are quite soft and gentle, so this seemed to fit.

Design 3 - Elgar'nan, God of Vengeance. I thought these sharp, angry lines were perfect for symbolising an angry god of Vengeance.

Design 4 - June, God of the Craft. There are arrowhead shaped symbols in these markings, so I guessed either Andruil (for the whole hunting thing) or June (who is the god of making bows and arrows and things), and since the wiki already assigned Andruil, as stated, I'm going with June.

Design 5- Sylaise, the Hearthkeeper. Mostly because it was assigned already in the wiki, but I agree with it. There are symbols that look like flames in the design, and since Sylaise gave the elves fire, it seems to fit.

Design 6- Dirthamen, Keeper of Secrets. Pretty much because they were already assigned on the wiki. I can't really come up with any reasons why these might represent Dirthamen, but apparently they do.

Note: (Update) An excellent observation pointed out to me by Bebus regarding this design; the markings resemble the open pages of a book, which makes sense. Books = knowledge = secrets. Thanks!

Design 7- Andruil, Goddess of the Hunt. This was assigned on the wiki, and I agree with it. They are also reminiscent of antlers like Design 2, but they look stronger and fiercer than those. And going from the description of the elven artifact from the ruins in the Dalish Elf origin story, Andruil is represented as having horns like a halla or a deer, so these symbols seemed appropriate.

Design 8 - Falon'Din. You can see elements of the design Merrill wears in Origins (which is also worn by Arianni and Hahren Paivel in DA2) in her DA2 version if you compare them. Even though some other characters vallaslin has changed from what it was in DA2, (like Marethari changing from design 5 to design 6), I think that Merrill's is still based on her DAO markings, just tweaked to make them nicer and unique to her. And I think Falon'Din would appeal to Merrill for the reasons she said in the chapter. No need to reiterate.