Chapter 24
Author's Note
Hi! So here the next part finally. Hopefully mistake-and-plot-hole-free. I've partly planned the next chapter and written some of it, but with Dragon Age Inquisition coming out in, what, about two weeks?... TWO WEEKS!... I'm most certainly going to be spending most of my free time virtually wandering in Thedas for a while. It will consume me. My girlfriend has been warned that I will be mostly mentally absent and absorbed in the Dragon Age game world for at least a week after it comes out, probably longer. I have also explained that it is very likely that she will hear me periodically squeeing and bursting out with exclamations such as "VARRIC!" and "MORRIGAN! IS THAT MORRIGAN? I THINK IT"S MORRIGAN!" and "OH MY GOD DRAGON!" and "THIS IS SO FREAKING AWESOME!" Hopefully I'm not building up my expectations of this game too much in my head. I'm sure it will be awesome. Needless to say, I'm excited. Are you excited? I sure am! I know I said so already, but I'm really excited.
DRAGON AGE INQUISITION! EXCITEMENT!
Here's the chapter. Read on!
xxx M xxx
"Well, that wasn't so bad," I say in as bright a tone as I can muster, leaning on Hawke as we reach the top of the long stairwell leading from the docks into Lowtown, the blood magic tome tucked safely under one arm. I feel more than hear Hawke's low chuckle, and blink up at her. "Well, it wasn't! Not really." I pause. "Not in the grand scheme of things, anyway."
Hawke glances at me with a smile before finishing the last bite of the hot meat roll bought from a vendor in the harbour. Not the best dinner, but filling enough. I finished mine before we even left the docks. "It could have been worse, I suppose," she comments mildly after swallowing her mouthful.
"Much worse!" I agree, holding up fingers on my free hand as I make my list. "We didn't get too badly hurt, after all. We didn't lose anything. We managed to kill that demon. We didn't put anyone else in danger and nobody else knows about me falling into that hole." I glance up at the clear night sky above us, stars passing slowly overhead as we walk a path through Lowtown to the Alienage. "And it isn't raining. I'd hate to get this book wet after all we went through to get it."
By the time we managed to make it back to the surface, it was already full dark. The door Hawke kicked down - Creators, it gives me shivers every time I picture that - lead us into the twisting mazes of old sewer tunnels and abandoned mine shafts beneath the docks, and from there, it wasn't too hard for us to navigate our way into more familiar territory. Or, for Hawke to navigate our way, I should say. I may not get lost going around Kirkwall by myself anymore... well, not as much, anyway... but the Undercity is entirely different. I was as useful as a glass hammer in finding our way out of there. But at least we're back up in the sort-of fresh air now, and heading to my house in the Alienage to spend the night. And to clean up, and take care of our various scrapes and bruises. Hawke doesn't think they're too bad; nothing worth going to see Anders for, nor even enough to justify taking out some of the mana from her sword. I don't think I'd let her try, anyway, she's too exhausted and aching from working on Arcane Warrior magic with Anders and fighting those rage demons and everything, and I'm tired and sore from battling Xebenkeck. And falling down that big hole.
"True. Still, I don't think I'll be following you down any more holes any time soon," Hawke grins as she reads my mind, hugging me closer. "Not just to go exploring, anyway. Only if you're really in trouble. And preferably not when I'm already tired, not to mention low on mana. I should be able to heal us up after a good night's rest, but..." She stretches a little, making a small noise of relief as joints pop. "Maker's breath, I'm drained. I doubt if I could so much as light a candle right now. I'm glad we're almost-"
"Well, now..."
Hawke's whole body seizes up at the sound of the gravelly voice floating out from the dark shadows to our left. A grizzled, grey haired human man steps into the flickering light from the wall-lamps.
"If it ain't my favourite little mage girl." He grins horribly at us, his gaze roving up and down.
Hawke stares at him, rooted to the spot.
"Hawke?" I ask, peering up at her uncertainly. She doesn't speak, shocked eyes locked on the leather-clad man slowly approaching us. I glance down at the sword at her side, only now noticing the faint red glow flickering on the small length of blade not quite covered by the sheath.
Oh, no...
"Heard about your little brother," the man drawls, grinning wider, showing blackened teeth in the back of his mouth, and walks towards Hawke slowly, carefully, danger in his every inch of his bearing. He stops a few paces away from us and looks Hawke up and down. "Such a shame. I see you're doing well for yourself, though; got yourself the whole noble deal. An old name, a Hightown mansion, and a little elven bedwarmer to boot." His eyes flick to me, and the tension in Hawke's body increases. Still she remains silent.
"Hawke?" I ask again, softly. "Who is he? Do you know him?" She still doesn't answer me, her eyes never leaving him. She seems so... afraid. "Who are you?" I challenge him, narrowing my eyes in anger. "Stay away from us!"
The man continues, ignoring me. "You and her have put the high and mighty nobility into quite an uproar, you know. Between you and me, I've even had a couple trying to engage my services to get rid of one or both of you and stop you sullying the pristine streets of Hightown. Not that I've taken any of their contracts, of course. For old times' sake, you understand... not yet, anyway." His eyes flick to me, lingering. "This is your whore, then?"
At this Hawke reacts at last, hissing a sharp breath in through her teeth, stepping toward him, her hands balling into fists, but he isn't done. He looks over at me again, and involuntarily I shrink back a little. "Mm. Nice. Very nice. Terrible shame she's being wasted on you, though. How much for an hour or two with your pretty little knife-ear harlot, then? Looks like she'd be a sweet ride."
Pretty little knife-ear... The memory tears through my mind, and I freeze in place a moment, old terrors reawakening. I push the crippling memories and fears down hard.
"Meeran," Hawke growls and bristles in fury, moving towards him, speaking at last. "You touch her, and I'll kill you," she says simply, her voice low and heavy with the threat.
But a gang of humans, mercenaries by the look of them, step out of the shadows on all sides of us, closing us in a circle. Their leather armour shimmers oddly in the moonlight...
I gasp as they step closer, as a chilling sensation washes over me, a draining coldness, and I realise the reason for their odd appearance.
"Magebane!" I whisper urgently to Hawke. "They've covered themselves in it!"
Hawke's eyes widen, and I can see her begin to feel it too, drained already though she is. The man - their leader I suppose - gives an awful chuckle of pleasure as he watches us.
"Aye, magebane," he grins smugly. "Coated our weapons and armour all over with it for this little encounter. You remember this feeling o'course, eh, little mage? Though I never used this much on you before, did I? I had to use it on her a fair bit, back when she worked for me," he adds, apparently addressing me. "Had to keep control of her somehow when she wasn't on a job. Especially when it came to doing things that she..." He turns his gaze back to Hawke, and grins slowly at her flinch, a terrible look in his eyes. "Wasn't entirely willing to do."
A thrill of cold horror uncoils deep within me as my mind turns over the possible meaning of those words. Hawke's breathing is fast and shallow, her fingers trembling as she reaches for the blade at her hip.
"Walk away, Meeran," Hawke warns. "You can cripple my magic, but you'll have to cross my blade to get any closer."
She steps back protectively in front of me, drawing Vigilance in one smooth motion. The warning runes blaze red with searing light as Meeran raises a hand, signalling more magebane-cloaked mercenaries to slip from the shadows, surrounding us completely, draining us. Barely, I can feel Hawke trying to draw mana from her blade, but the magebane dulls the stored power before she can use it. The mercenaries close in. Hawke turns her head and follows them with her blade but she can't keep them all in sight, and I cry out in remembered fear as I feel rough hands take hold of me from behind, jerking me away from Hawke and tight against his body before my sore and tired limbs can react, and I am caught, too late to fight back. A knife is pressed to my throat as Hawke watches in frozen horror, unable to make a move for fear of provoking my captor. Mythal save us, how can we win this one? Every part of me screams in dismay at the look in Hawke's eyes, her fear and desperation at seeing me held hostage against her, surrounded, exhausted and alone, with every passing second draining more of our mana away. Soon we will be completely helpless to whatever foul purpose these men have in mind.
Blessed Creators, what do I do?
"Nice sword, mage girl," Meeran sneers at Hawke, in no doubt of his dominance. "I'll bet my left ball you can't use it, though, so you'd better drop it before I have my man slit your little whore's throat."
"Slit her throat, and I'll use my blade to take your left ball and make you choke on it before I kill every last one of you thrice-damned goat-begotten bastards," Hawke retorts, her fiery eyes boring into his in fury. "Both balls if you call her a whore again."
Meeran throws his head back and laughs. "Ah, that's my girl. Always enjoyed your inventive insults. Far more imagination than your little dead brother on that account."
Hawke breathes fast, visibly trying hard to keep herself under control. "Tell your lackey to let her go, Meeran."
He grins as he slowly shakes his head at her, relaxed and confident. "I have a proposition, little mage. I lost a lot of men after you walked. Turns out most of them were shit at defending themselves without your spell work protecting their stupid hides. Not to mention you were a damn sight easier on the eyes than any of those ugly bastards. A damn sight easier." Meeran looks her up and down slowly. "Business has taken a sharp downturn, you might say, ever since you cut ties. A lot of clients have stopped requiring the Red Iron's swords and services. And the Harimann family's been throwing a lot of coin around, trying to find out who came after their lord, even after three years. It's made business... hard to come by." His mouth twists, eyes narrowing dangerously at her for a moment. "Which wouldn't have been a problem for me at all if you had just finished the job and knocked the old man off when I told you to. So the way I figure it, you owe me, mage girl. You're going to work for me again and maybe they'll see reason to come back, see? You'll do what I say, or you'll regret it." His flinty eyes harden further. "Drop that blade!"
"Let Merrill go!" Hawke shouts, anger and fear for me colouring her tone.
"That the little whore's name?" Meeran smirks at me, rolling my name around his filthy mouth. "Merrill. Mmm... pretty."
Hawke snarls with rage. "Release her!"
"Oh, not just yet, little mage," Meeran laughs. "I've got your attention now, haven't I? You are going to work for me again, noble or not. Don't forget, I know your little secret." He begins to pace a slow circle about her, a mountain lion circling its downed but still-kicking prey. "And now, so do all of my men, here. You don't agree to work for me, I go straight to the Templars. You try to take me down, I send one of my men instead. Either way, you'll be in their cold, steel gauntlets before morning." He pauses, leering at her. "Maybe you should think about that for a moment. Consider whose touch you would prefer; the Templars', or mine?"
"As you've said, I've done well for myself," Hawke counters, tightening her grip on her sword. "I'm the descendant of a noble house, and have coin enough to keep the Templars off my back, regarding my 'little secret'." The man holding me holds me tightly against him with his knife-wielding hand, running his other hand over my body and forcing an involuntary whimper from my throat. Hawke ignores Meeran abruptly and turns her livid gaze on my captor. "This will be your only warning. Take your hands off her. Let. Her. Go!"she hisses, fury infusing her every word. "Now!"
I feel the hitch in the man's breathing as he sees the cold promise of death in her eyes, and feel his grip slacken as he considers releasing me... but before his hold loosens enough for me to get free, Meeran turns on him, almost spitting with rage.
"You cowardly clot of whore's piss! She can't get to you before you kill the elf, and she knows it. But you let that knife-ear loose and I will flay you alive and make you eat your own worthless hide!"
The hands on me tighten abruptly, and now the point of the man's blade digs into my throat, not yet enough to draw blood but not far off, and very close to the artery. I freeze, hardly daring to breathe, burning with rage at feeling so helpless.
Meeran turns his gaze back on Hawke, who glances desperately at me before turning back to him. "Now then. Mages can't hold titles, you up jump little doglord," the bastard sneers. "Even a whisper that there is magic in you will be enough to convince the Templars to take you, no matter your wealth or 'nobility'. If they hear it from the right people."
Hawke gazes at him coldly. "It will be my word against that of a Lowtown mercenary thug."
Meeran grins. "I didn't say I'd be telling them. I've got respectable types owing me a favour. And if that's not enough to convince you, my lad's still got your little whore at knife point. You so much as move a hair's breadth towards me with that blade, she's dead. And I'll send for the Templars." His grin slides into a sneer and he takes a single threatening step towards Hawke. "Drop it."
A moment of agonising silence as Hawke silently measures the distance between herself and the man holding me, calculating hurriedly and then...
I see the light go out of her eyes as she realises she cannot reach me in time to save me.
She looks at me, beseeching apology deep in her eyes, and I gasp with an almost physical pain as I realise what she is about to do.
"Oh Hawke, no," I whisper. I shake my head, trying to deny what is happening. No! I will not let her suffer to save me! We can get out of this! I try to struggle but the man tightens his hold, gauntleted fingers digging painfully into my arms. Vainly I try to summon my mana, but the magebane all around us renders my power all but useless and what little remaining mana I have is far too slow to respond.
"Merrill, stop," Hawke says quietly. "I can't let you be hurt."
Vigilance trembles in her grip as she slowly lowers the sword, looks at me sorrowfully, and then tosses it despondently to the ground at Meeran's feet.
"Hawke..." I sob, as the awfulness of our situation closes my throat. "No..."
Hawke meets my eyes with calm resignation, giving me the ghost of her usual warm smile. "It will be alright, Merrill." She turns to Meeran, on whose grizzled face a triumphant, leering grin appears as he grabs her sword up from the ground and passes the prize to one of his men. "What do you want?" she asks him in defeat, her voice toneless, her expression bleak.
No...
Meeran reaches her in two quick strides and grabs her, tying her hands behind her back with a coil of rope from his belt, chuckling horribly at her gasp as his foul, magebane coated touch drains her even more. He twists his fingers into her hair, gripping tightly, wrenching her head back so that she is forced to look up at him. He grasps her chin in his other hand, filthy fingers digging into her cheek.
"What do I want?" he growls, the satisfied sound of a hunter sure of the kill. "Well, little mage girl, as I said, I want your talents, your skills, your magic on my side, but first..." His hand leaves her face and slips down her neck, one finger tracing a line along her collarbone before slipping down further, laughing as she shudders at his touch. "I want you. Now."
Hawke's eyes close tightly, the glint of a tear slipping down one cheek, and my heart freezes in horror and shock.
He wants... oh gods, no, NO!
My scream of outrage is cut off abruptly as a gloved hand is clapped over my mouth, and I buck wildly against my captor's grip but it's no good, I can't break free! I feel a small trickle of blood drip down my neck where the man's knife pricked me in my thrashing, and then armoured arms close about me even more tightly, gripping me so that I can hardly breathe, let alone move.
Meeran watches my struggles with obvious amusement. "My lads will mind the little whore while I'm taking my time with you," he growls into her ear, grinning as wide blue eyes meet his with fear and horror. "Oh, now. I see what you're thinking, but don't worry, you have my word on it the knife-ear won't be touched." His grin widens, as his grasping hand finds her breast and squeezes. "Not if you're a good girl..."
Hawke glances desperately at me. At Meeran's nod, the man holding me drives the point of his blade into my throat, drawing more blood and a gasp of pain from me.
"Your options are limited, mage," Meeran sneers. "You're out of magic, and your hands are literally tied. And I'm not a patient man, remember. You better decide if you're going to co-operate quickly."
Hawke glares at him, her eyes filled with hate. "You'll get what you want from me, you bastard, as long as Merrill isn't hurt," she says harshly. "But you won't live to regret it if you so much as spill one more drop of her blood."
My ears prick as Hawke places unusual emphasis on that last word, her eyes flicking meaningfully to me, and I look back at her, perplexed. She holds my eyes for a long, intense moment, then pointedly lets her gaze drop to linger on the blood trickling from the fresh cut on my neck.
I blink, and then try not to let it show as I catch Hawke's unspoken suggestion. The blood... of course! Its power will be undiminished by the magebane... but she can't really mean she wants me to use it... can she?
I give her a questioning look, and she gives me a sad sort of smile and an almost imperceptible nod, as much as she is able with the bastard's fingers still tangled in her hair. My eyes widen. She does! I... I never thought of it, I haven't used the power in so long, but it's the only thing that might help us... but can I do it without using my mana at all? I can't think how to begin to try. And there are so many of them! Can I even hope to defeat them all? I reach for the power in my blood, trying desperately to gain control of the slippery dark tendrils of magic without mana to guide me, but the cursed things elude my grasp. Creators, help me!
Meeran grins horribly, not noticing our exchange, then rakes his men with his feral gaze. "No one hurts the elf without my say-so," he orders. "Keep her here, while the mage and I... have a little fun." Ribald laughter echoes about the group of men, and Meeran pulls Hawke closer. "See, now? Your little rabbit will be fine. You, on the other hand... you'll be sore and sorry by the time I'm done with you. Think of it as a punishment for making me wait for so long." He pulls her head back further, smiling at her wince of pain, and drags his tongue down the side of her face, then grasps her arm and begins dragging her towards the opening of the dark alleyway behind them. Hawke stumbles backward with him, unable to completely stop herself resisting, delaying the awful moment when the darkness of the alley swallows them and he can...
Mythal, I can't let that happen! No, oh no!
I struggle harder to use the blood, reaching desperately within myself, trying to harness the power as Meeran drags Hawke further into the alleyway. If I can't do it, if I can't reach the magic in my blood, Hawke might think she has no choice but to let him hurt her... let him... Unless she has another plan... but she'd never risk letting me come to harm to save herself, I know her too well, and that means if I can't do this, then... Meeran will... he will...
No, Creators, oh Mythal, oh gods!
I strain, reaching out desperately with all my strength, diving down, down into the depths of my soul, fighting past the foggy tendrils of magebane to the once white hot core of my magic, now so dim and dark from exhaustion and that Dread Wolf-cursed potion. But a small flame still burns, and I grasp that tiny tendril of light with all my heart and will, using its faint power to tap into the magic in the blood still running from the cut on my throat. I hiss in satisfaction as the deep, ancient force pours through me, awakening the slumbering magic rushing through my veins. Oh... Blessed Creators, the power!
Without another thought, I focus my mind on the man keeping me hostage, bearing down with my will and boiling the blood his body, trying not to think of the horror of what I am doing. He gasps and releases me, clutching at his chest, stumbling back and dropping in the dust, his body convulsing in time with his screams as his fellows gaze at him, frozen in confusion as to the source of his distress.
Me.
I feel my lips pull back in a grim snarl of triumph. They don't know I'm a mage and so can't know I can work with blood, let alone that blood magic can work without mana. With the element of surprise on my side, maybe I can do this! I turn on the Red Iron man holding Vigilance and crook my fingers, beckoning him as I reach out to his mind, bending his thoughts. His eyes widen and go dark as I exert my will over him, and he raises Vigilance, walking towards me. Another mercenary yells encouragement, thinking his friend is trying to stop me. The look on his face when the man simply hands the blade over to me without a fight would be funny if it weren't for the danger we're in.
"Thank you," I say politely, and then deal my helpful thrall a heavy blow to the head with my staff, felling him like an oak.
With Vigilance in hand, my blood magic is even more potent, the ancient power protecting me from the insidious influence of magebane. I can easily tap into Hawke's stored mana without it simply draining away. Using another's magic in place of your own is still difficult, and I only manage it now because of how intimately I know her. Her mana fills me with warmth as I gradually pull some from the blade, suffusing me with her strength and light, and I send a bolt of pure spirit energy straight into the heart of the nearest Red Iron grunt, killing him instantly.
Meeran has stopped just inside the alleyway, keeping a tight hold of Hawke as he turns to see what the commotion is. He curses violently when he sees me free and armed. Hawke grins fiercely, relief and pride in her eyes, and she tries to pull free of Meeran but he swiftly draws a dagger, pressing it to her pale throat.
One spear-wielding thug keeps his head enough to try and grab hold of me again as two of his fellows try to help their fallen comrades, but I slash at his wrist, knocking the spike-tipped rod from his grip as he clutches at his arm. Swiftly I bend to pick up the spear, whirling it about like my staff as I skip back out of range, putting myself in the middle of the circle of mercenaries, slashing about with the tip and keeping them all at a distance with my new weapon in one hand, and Vigilance in the other.
"Durnham! Harris!" Meeran shouts, waving at two of his men, who glance at him, and then warily at me. "Bloody get control of her, will you? It's just one bloody little elf girl! Take her!"
My eyes meet his in white hot fury. "Take this!"
I blast him off his feet with a thought, sending him flying down the alley away from my Hawke without stirring so much as a hair on her beautiful head. He thumps heavily on the ground and lies still, dazed for a brief moment, before slowly trying get back up. I rush to Hawke's side, tucking my spear in the crook of one arm as I cut her bonds carefully with Vigilance's razor-sharp edge, thrusting the arcane sword into her hands as she turns to face Meeran, struggling to his feet at last.
"Thank you, love," she murmurs quietly over her shoulder as we stand back-to-back, me keeping the rest of the Red Iron at bay as Hawke turns to Meeran, defying him.
"You didn't really think it would be that easy, did you, you grizzled old badger?" she taunts him, as though this was precisely her plan all along. Maybe it was, even, though she couldn't have been sure my blood magic would be enough, not if I wasn't sure. I think she is trying to make him angry. He looks to be the sort that's more likely to make mistakes when enraged. "I will never let myself fall under your power again, you whore-spawned bastard! You can do your worst."
I hear the snarl in Meeran's voice as he answers her. "Oh, I will then, mage. I'll make you regret your first breath!" The hiss of steel reaches my ears as Meeran draws his other dagger. "Change of plans, boys, this bitch is too much trouble. Kill the Fereldan mongrel!" he orders his men furiously, then grins, locking eyes with Hawke. "But keep her little pet knife-ear alive if you can, and we'll have some fun with her once her doglord mistress is dead."
His men glance doubtfully at each other, giving me wary looks. I call lightning into my hands, enjoying their fearful faces perhaps a little too much as they hesitate.
"What's the matter?" I taunt them, unable to help myself. "Afraid to fight a little elf girl, are you?"
Hawke weaves her blade in an elegant, practiced dance through the air, surprising them - and me, a little - with her unexpected display of skill. She must remember more of her early lessons with her father than she let on; that, and her innate affinity for swording will help us a great deal in this fight. Add to that the range that the longsword and my blood magic gives us over these men, most of whom clearly usually only fight dirty with daggers in close quarters, and that may just give us the edge we need to win. Or at least get out of this with our lives, long enough to go for help. Oh, if only we were closer to the Hanged Man!
One man breaks the circle of his hesitating fellows at last and rushes in, giving a harsh, angry cry as he slices at Hawke with his daggers, trying to get under her guard. She snaps out an agile, booted foot and kicks a knife from one hand, bringing Vigilance in low and slashing across his midsection, the tip of her exquisitely sharp blade slicing through his rough leather armour and biting deep into the flesh beneath. He screams, clutching his mortal wound as she turns the blade and takes his head, finishing him quickly.
The air is deadly quiet for a moment, filled only with the sound of Hawke's harsh breathing as she stares at the body of her assailant, eyes wide with the same stunned disbelief I can see on the faces of the Red Iron mercenaries all around us.
"Get her!"
Meeran's furious command breaks the shocked silence, giving way to the angry howls of his men as they leap for us at once. Hawke and I stand back-to-back once more as they come from all sides, mad eyes and daggers flashing in the dark around us. Swiftly I freeze the first three men in their tracks before they can reach me, and keep the others back with a wall of fire, my blood magic spells drawing the energy from my own life force instead of my mana. Grimly I bear down with my will and blood, rending my frozen victims apart from the inside before I turn to face my next foes. The dawning fear in their eyes gives me no pleasure, but neither will it inspire my compassion. We can't let them walk away. They know we are mages. They've seen my blood magic.
They tried to hurt Hawke. I will not let them live.
The sounds of clashing steel ring out behind me; Hawke is holding her own. Even in the middle of fighting I can't help but notice how naturally good she is with the blade. And she hasn't even begun training with Aveline yet! A mercenary with a lot of broken teeth tries to flank me in my moment of distraction, and I deal him a blow with the heavy wood of my spear, then tangle the other end in his legs and bring him down. He tries to rise, and I send a bolt of lightning shooting through the shaft of the spear, pressing the metal tip to his throat as the crackling energy jolts through into his body. The ordinary wood of the spear blackens in my hands, unable to handle the magic as a staff would. As it bursts into flame, I hurl the burning length of it into the group of men coming toward me, scattering them so that I can pick them off one by one with balls of fire until I can see no more men left to fight.
A gasp of pain from behind me pulls at my heart, and I spin frantically around to see Hawke fending off two men at once with her blade, a long gash in the fabric of her sleeve showing crimson leaking through. She's hurt!
"Hawke!"
"I'm alright, Merrill," she calls hurriedly, hooking a lithe leg around an opponent's and tripping him the way we learned from Isabela, keeping him down with a swift kick to the head as she brings Vigilance to bear against his fellow. "Watch your back!"
I smile a little. I'd rather watch yours.
I put my back to the wall of the alley and try to take the pressure off Hawke, casting spells right and left. Mythal, how many men does Meeran have? There seems no end to them! I spin as I see a blur of movement from my right, shooting a stone fist into the chest of a charging mercenary and dropping him. Shaking with tiredness, I use my blood to call to the earth beneath him, sucking him down and swallowing him up, knowing his screams as the earth closes over his head will return to haunt me in the night, but I don't care just now. I cannot afford to. This is survival.
I look for Hawke, and find her surrounded. Terror and dismay war within me at the sight, and I start forward determinedly, laying about with fire and lighting, trying to get to her. A sudden fierce feeling of foreboding jolts my heart, and I turn to see Meeran, who has stayed out of the fight until now, suddenly smash a smoke flask at his feet and vanish into the confusing press of bodies around Hawke, who does not see him, too busy keeping her attackers back with her sword and a dagger grabbed from a felled opponent.
"Hawke!" I shout in warning, then gasp in horror as my attempted warning provides the distraction Meeran needed, my eyes meeting hers just as he appears from the throng behind her and plunges a dagger into her back. Her cry mingles with mine as she arches her back in pain, and Meeran's men close about them in a circle, the ones closest to me keeping me at bay with their blades. The rest lower their weapons, watching their master as he wrenches his blade from Hawke's back and sinks it into her stomach, pressing his body to hers as he stares her in the face with a look of twisted pleasure. The bastard twists the blade.
Her cry of pain rends my soul apart.
I scream in rage and anguish as I try to get to them, but more of Meeran's men surround me, trying to hold me. I strike at them with ice and stone, aware of Meeran kicking Vigilance from Hawke's hand, hearing him laugh as she tries to stab him with her belt knife which he grabs from her too, setting her own blade to her throat as he wrenches her head back, licking her cheek.
Outrage burns within me, fuelling my fury into a murderous wrath. Drawing blood from the bodies of the slain around us, I carve into the minds of every second man, turning him on his fellows. The yells of fear and confusion only add to the chaos as the Red Iron begin fighting amongst themselves, killing each other instead of focusing on Hawke and me.
And Meeran.
I glance around, searching for Hawke through the battling mercenaries. There! My heart swells with rage when I see Meeran speaking into her ear as he fondles her breast before throwing my wounded lover to the ground, delivering a terrible kick right into her bleeding middle. Mythal, I have to get to them!
The fighting around me is too thick, too dangerous to push through and I can't waste any more time killing them all. Hawke needs me, now! There's only one thing I can think of that might work, if I can do it. If it doesn't kill me...
Meeran kicks Hawke again, grinning as she cries out in agony. Screaming with anger, I call on my courage and summon what little power I have left in my grasp, concentrating with all my mind on a spell I have never cast before, am not trained for, not ready for, but it is the only way I can get to her quickly. I push down a wave of terror as I sink rapidly into the ground beneath my feet, fighting not to scream as the darkness closes over my head, light and air replaced by dark, cold nothingness as I move through the earth, hoping against hope that I can guide myself accurately, that I have the strength to come back up again, knowing that I can, that I do, I must, because Hawke needs me, and suddenly I am popping out of the ground like the daisy Varric named me, right behind where Meeran stands gloating over his victim, oblivious as his men kill each other around him. Coldly, I help the rest of them along, using their blood to rend them apart from the inside. I don't let them scream; I don't want Meeran to see me coming. He doesn't notice as the last of the Red Iron fall to the ground. Too absorbed in torturing my soulmate to notice his men are all dead.
Wretched shemlen bastard.
I come up slowly behind him on silent feet, slipping my belt knife into my hand as I draw close enough to hear him taunting Hawke as she lies on the ground, curled about her injury with her eyes closed tight.
"...should have just come back to me, you little mageling whore," the beast is saying, running his finger gently along the blade of his dagger in an almost loving caress. "This isn't the blade I wanted to impale you with. You remember, sweetling. But I'll take what I can get." He chuckles horribly. "A shame to waste a well-formed creature like you, but I suppose I will have to take no for an answer. There's a first time for everything." I can hear the disgusting leering grin in his voice at those words and snarl silently, gripping my blade tighter as he nudges her roughly with a boot. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, girl!"
Pain-filled blue eyes open slowly as Hawke looks up at him, then widen slightly as she sees me behind him. I nod to her, lifting my blade as I come closer, and she looks back at him, a quiet strength in her face even as she lies helpless before him.
Meeran doesn't notice, crouching down and raising his dagger over her heart. "Say goodbye, Hawke," he tells her, a grin in his voice.
As I lower myself silently to a knee behind him, Hawke lifts her head to meet his eyes, taking him aback as she smiles at him. "Goodbye, Meeran."
I raise my blade. One quick stab.
The hard grey eyes widen in shock as the blood begins to pour from the big severed vein in his throat. He clutches at his wound, choking as he tries in vain to stem the crimson flow. I push him away from Hawke, watching as he coughs and writhes and finally falls still, then turn back to her. She is half lying on the filthy ground, clutching her bleeding abdomen and gazing at her dead tormentor, a look of grim relief on her face.
I drop down beside her, wrapping her in my arms. She leans against me, her breathing laboured, her eyes fluttering closed. I hold her close, feeling the blood from her wounds on my hands, cursing Fen'Harel that our clothing is already too blood-soaked to rip into bandages. "Hawke?"
She opens her eyes after a long moment, resting her head against my shoulder and smiling up at me. "Nice spell..." she manages to say. "That... underground thing you did. Didn't... didn't know you could... do that."
"Neither did I, until just now," I tell her wryly. I wasn't ready for that level of Keeper magic, certainly, and I wouldn't have tried it if her life hadn't been in danger. By all rights I shouldn't have been able to do it, and would have simply buried myself alive. But I see no need to tell her that now. She'll only worry. "But I'm glad I can."
Hawke gives a faint laugh that turns into a cough halfway through. "Me too. Thank you, Merrill."
I cup her cheek and kiss her gently. "No need, Hawke. Come on. We need to get you some help."
I leave her for only a moment, to collect our scattered belongings. Vigilance is no longer glowing when I retrieve it; all the mercenaries must be dead, and there is no immediate danger around us for the moment. Faintly I can feel the power humming through the sword. Hopefully if we get away from all these magebane-coated bodies, Hawke can take back some of her mana and heal her wounds. Returning to Hawke's side, I help her stand, biting my lip at her agonised gasps as every movement tugs at the wounds in her stomach and back.
"Should we go to the Alienage?" I ask Hawke worriedly. I should go for help, it would come sooner, but I can't leave her here, not alone, and not with these dead men.
She shakes her head slowly. "Gamlen's," she gasps out, her voice pained. "Closer to... Hanged Man. We can... get Varric or... Isa...bela..."
Hawke can barely stand. I take as much of her weight as I can, helping her as we slowly make our way to her grumpy uncle's house. I feel some of my mana beginning to replenish as we leave the magebane's area of effect.
"Can you feel your mana returning?" I ask Hawke, who stumbles a little, taking a moment to form a reply.
"No," she breathes, her heart pounding fast as she leans on me. "The magebane... on Meeran's blade... must be in my system. I won't get it back... for a while."
I bite my lip worriedly, my heart in my throat as I see how pale her face is getting. She's losing a lot of blood. And when I try to give her strength with the small amount of power I have regained, the magebane inside her blocks me. She needs a healer, fast. She has no mana, and I can't help. We didn't bring any elfroot, which might help. Anders might know a way to get around the magebane now, but if we can't get to him in time... We certainly can't wait for a Circle healer, if one would even be permitted to come, and even if they did, they would certainly want to know why Hawke's wounds are poisoned with magebane... I suppose a non-magical healer might do, but could we trust them not to pick up on the magebane too?
Oh, Creators, what will we do?
Finally, we reach the rough steps up to Gamlen's door. I bang my fist against the filthy wood, and try again harder when there is no answer. If he isn't here, I'll blast the door in and let Hawke rest here while I go for help-
The door opens inwards suddenly, just a crack not even wide enough to see through. "Who is it? It's the dead of bloody night," a gruffly irritated voice accuses. "I don't have any money or I wouldn't live here, would I? Bugger off and come back in the morning, or not at all. Can't a man have his sleep?"
"Gamlen..." Hawke says, her voice weak. "It's me. Please... let us in."
The crack widens and a crotchety, frowning face appears. "Blasted Andraste, what is it, girl? Do you know what time it is..." His steely eyes widen as he looks us over, taking in our dishevelled, blood-covered appearance. "Maker's breath! What happened?"
"We were attacked by the Red Iron," I tell him, all but holding Hawke up as her strength fails. "Please, let us in. We need help. Hawke's wounded."
"The Red... Meeran, that bastard!" Gamlen throws the door wide, concern in his eyes. "What would he want with you now, after all these years? You paid your debt to him."
Debt? I glance at him in consternation as he takes Hawke's weight from me, holding her gently in his arms.
Hawke breathes out slowly as he lifts her, fighting the pain. "He wanted me... to work for him again..." she murmurs, not looking at him. "I declined."
He shakes his head. "Well, never mind that now. Come on, girl. You'll be alright." He carries her inside, leaving me to close the door behind us and follow as he goes into his room and lays her down on the bed.
Hawke stifles a moan as he puts her down. I kneel by her side, watching her anxiously.
"Do you have any bandages, or towels, or anything?" I ask her uncle, who is hovering over us, looking uncomfortable. "We need to stop her bleeding."
Gamlen grabs a few mostly clean rags and things from a drawer, bringing them to Hawke to stem the flow of blood from her wound. He hands them over to me, and I nod my thanks and turn back to to the bed.
"How bad is it, ma vhenan?"
"I... can't see inside myself," she replies softly, craning her neck up and probing gently at the wound on her abdomen with one hand. "The cut... on my back isn't bad... shoulder blade turned the knife... didn't go too deep. But this... all I can tell from... where the wound is, the amount of blood... and the..." She gives a wry smile, drawing a laboured breath, "...the fact that I'm... not dead yet is that... that the dagger thrust missed my vital... organs... and the big artery. Not... not a mortal wound... if we get help soon."
"Why don't you just take care of it yourself?" Gamlen asks, watching as I fold a towel under the wound on Hawke's back, and press a wad of rags to her bleeding midsection. He wiggles his fingers awkwardly. "You know... magically."
"We're drained of mana," I explain. "Meeran and his thugs used magebane on us, and the weapon that caused this was coated in it, which means the wound is as well."
Hawke nods a little. "I need... the wounds cleansed... before it can be healed. Elfroot potions..."
Gamlen shrugs. "I can't afford that sort of thing. Haven't got any here." He offers her a grim half-smile. "Bloody magic. Seems like more trouble than it's worth, eh?"
Hawke glares at him. "It can be... when certain people go around telling everyone about your magic."
"Come on now, niece," Gamlen retorts, raising his hands. "I needed to give Meeran and that smuggler elf good reason to take you on. They never would have gone for it if I hadn't sweetened the deal by telling them of your... abilities. Besides, I only used it as a last resort to convince them to give you a chance. They both had enough blades already and needed a better reason to cough up all that coin it took to get you all inside the city. You'd never have gotten in otherwise, and then where would you be?" He crosses his arms, gazing at her belligerently. "Besides, what could you have done for them besides magic? You might be carrying round a fancy sword for some reason, but you're not a warrior, girl."
"No..." Hawke replies softly between deep breaths, laying her head down on the grimy pillow. "Not yet... But it's becoming more and... more obvious it would be a bloody good idea... if I were."
Gamlen shakes his head in confusion at her words, looking doubtful, but before he can irritate her with more questions I look up at him.
"Gamlen, Hawke needs help," I remind him. "Could you please go to the Hanged Man and find a dwarf named Varric and a pirate woman named Isabela and tell them what's happened, please? Tell them we need elfroot potions, and that somebody needs to go get Anders. They'll know who Anders is," I very nearly snap when he opens his mouth to question me. "Please, Gamlen. While time is still on our side."
He nods, moving to the door. "Right. Anders and elfroot. I'll remember. I know of that half-dressed pirate wench well enough," he adds with a grin over his shoulder as he leaves the room. "I'll be all too happy to talk to her."
I shake my head, listening to the front door close behind him as he hurries out. "An interesting example of your race, that uncle of yours," I comment wryly, swapping out a blood soaked rag for a clean one... if such a word can be applied to anything of Gamlen's. Eurgh.
"Same old Gamlen." Hawke gives a small chuckle, which turns into a pained gasp. I lay a hand on her head, gazing at her in concern.
"Ma vhenan?"
She smiles at me. "I'm all right, for now. Just hurts."
I nod, feeling helpless. "What can I do?"
She lays a hand over mine where I'm pressing down on her wound. "Keep putting pressure here, just as you're doing..." She grimaces, flinching as her wound pains her. "And keep... keep me awake until help arrives. Keep me conscious as long as possible."
How should I do that? A song? Stories? No, they would be more likely to lull her to sleep, surely. I'd best just talk to her, make her respond to me. I ask the first questions that come into my head.
"Who was it that attacked us just now? Who was that Meeran man to you?"
Hawke is silent for a moment, a muscle working in her throat as she composes her response. I sit still beside her, one hand applying pressure on her middle, the other softly stroking her sweat-dampened hair.
"He was the leader of a mercenary company... called the Red Iron," she answers at last. "When my family first came to Kirkwall during the Blight, Carver and I had to work for him... to pay our way into the city."
That's the debt her uncle mentioned, then. But... "You mean, you had to work for him and not get paid?"
Hawke nods. "Yes. Gamlen couldn't afford to pay the bribes to get us in, so he... made arrangements with Meeran, sold our talents and labour to him." She stays silent for a few moments, catching her breath before going on. "If Meeran paid for all of us to get into the city, Carver and I... were his for a year."
"You were his?" I repeat numbly, and then pause as my mind drags another awful revelation out of her words. "Wait... sold?" My eyebrows rise, and I feel a dark cloud of anger rise within me. "Your uncle sold you?"
"Into indentured servitude," Hawke says, giving me a faint smile. "It's... not quite as bad as it sounds."
"It sounds like slavery," I tell her, frowning darkly.
"It isn't meant to be..." she replies quietly, a sad look in her eyes. "An indentured servant is only kept for an agreed upon period of time, usually to pay a debt; they know they will be released from bondage eventually. They are not supposed to be treated badly during that time. But that year... for us, it was closer to slavery, I think. That would have been bad enough, but..."
"But there was worse?" I finish quietly for her as she trails off. A hard lump of coldness starts to form in my belly at the lost expression on her face.
"There was," she answers at last. She takes a breath. "To get them to take us on, Gamlen told Meeran I was a mage, to make me seem more useful. But of course, in doing so he gave Meeran a lot of power over me... knowing I was an apostate. Power that he used as often as he could." She swallows, looking away. "I'm still not certain Gamlen really thought about... what the consequences were for me. Revealing such information to a stranger... putting my life and freedom in his filthy hands..." She sighs. "It's been... something of a... contention point between us ever since."
"How could he do that?" I all but cry in outrage. "Just tell him your deepest, most dangerous secret like that? He could have gotten you killed, or captured by the Templars at the very least! And to tell such a man such a secret... Mythal!"
"I doubt if he really... thought about it like that," Hawke says after a moment. She is breathing easier now, perhaps getting used to the pain. I'm not sure if that's a good thing. "He was trying to help... the best he could. It was foolish... but, well, he's a bit of an idiot. At least he'd be the first to admit it." She grimaces as I replace another bloody rag. "And I did have a choice. There was Meeran, or there was Athenril, an elven smuggler. We could have worked for her, instead."
"Why didn't you?" I ask gently.
"I would have preferred her over Meeran, in hindsight," Hawke admits. "But we met with her first, and... while I felt that she would be safer to work for, since as a smuggler her secret and mine would cancel each other out, in a way... Aveline did not like the idea of Carver and I being complicit in illegal work, and Carver wasn't too happy." She takes a breath. "So we met with Meeran and well... Carver was far more interested and enthusiastic about joining the Red Iron... and since mercenary work is legitimate, Aveline felt more comfortable. I didn't have a good feeling about him, but the others were happier with him... at least, at the time, so..."
I give her a sad, knowing smile. "You did what seemed best for them, and not for you. As you always, always do, my love." No matter the cost to yourself, I add silently.
Hawke shrugs one arm a little in response, closing her eyes. She does not reopen them. "I suppose..." she says, her voice sounding faint.
Oh, my Hawke. I can't let her fall asleep, she told me so. And the attack... the things that awful man said and did... I have questions I have to ask her, painful as they may be... "But you repaid your debt to the Red Iron, didn't you?" I ask, stroking her cheek to make her open her eyes and look at me. "It's been years, Hawke... he didn't really just want you to work for him again, did he?"
Her gaze drops. "He said business had been slow," she murmurs. "I suppose it was partly my magic that he wanted again. I was very... useful to him."
I bite my lip. "He wanted to... to hurt you," I say tentatively. "The way he was talking... it sounded as though he used to hurt you before... that he used to... to..." I take a shaky breath, afraid to ask, but needing to know. For her sake and mine. "Hawke, did he...?"
Hawke closes her eyes tight for a moment, and turns her head away. "Yes," she says after a long moment, her voice small.
I sit silent, my throat closed tight with pain. He hurt her. He hurt my Hawke! How could he get away with it? I take her hand and hold it tight as she tells me of the horror she used to live, of the pain and humiliation he visited upon her throughout that year.
"He would use magebane, so I couldn't fight him," Hawke whispers, her fingers clutching mine in a death grip. "If I resisted, he would threaten to reveal my secret to the Templars, and have my family arrested for hiding an apostate. It was a real threat. None of us had any standing at that time, and with the way the Circle here is operated... those who attempt to hide apostates are treated almost as harshly as illegal mages. I couldn't let him reveal us. I couldn't..." She takes a shuddering breath, and looks at me, tears shining in her eyes. "No one knows. My brother never knew, though he didn't trust Meeran after he learned what kind of scum he really was. Carver would have attacked Meeran if he knew all that he was doing, and then the Red Iron would have killed him. I couldn't let that happen. Meeran kept Carver away on jobs when he wanted to... he never let him see. And Aveline took a job with the guard not too long into that year, so we didn't see much of her. I knew she thought I was unhappy... but there were lots of reasons for me to be so. I don't know whether she suspects the truth, but I didn't tell her. I couldn't. I couldn't risk Meeran telling the Templars about me..." The tears run down her cheeks, and I stroke her hair, feeling anguished tears of my own hot on my face. "Then the year was over, and we were free. Meeran let me go. I think he was... bored of me by then." The shame in her voice makes my heart twist. She gazes at me, eyes big and dark with sadness. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about any of this, Merrill. I didn't want to keep anything from you. I just... I wanted so badly to forget. Can you understand that?"
Yes. Oh, yes, I can understand that. I still have nightmares of what almost happened to me, that night in Lowtown. And that was nothing compared to her own suffering. She saved me from worse. I wish I could have saved her from this. All I can do is be there now to help her through. I nod, squeezing her fingers. "I understand, Hawke." After a brief hesitation, I ask; "Does Leandra know about it?"
Hawke shakes her head, eyes wide. "No. No, she doesn't. I couldn't tell her. I didn't, couldn't, tell anyone at the time because of the threats Meeran made. I couldn't find a way around him as long as I owed him, and now... it would only hurt Mother to know what I suffered to keep them all safe. Please, Merrill... don't tell her. Don't tell anyone." I begin, softly, to suggest that perhaps Leandra ought to know, at least, but Hawke shakes her head again. "Please, Merrill. Meeran is dead. He won't hurt anyone anymore. I just want to let it go."
"Alright," I tell her after a moment, wiping the tears from her cheeks. The beast is dead, that is true. But after hearing this, I wish I could kill him again, more slowly and much more painfully. "Leandra won't hear of it from me. But I want you to know you can tell me about such things."
She smiles tremulously, and nods. "I know I can talk to you. I know that, but... I feel that every time I tell you about something like this... I take away a little of your joy in the world. Like when I told you about how I got the scars on my hands... what those children did..."
I swallow my sorrow and pain for the moment, because she needs kindness and quiet and calm right now, not an outburst of outrage and anger on her behalf at the awful viciousness of the world. I bend, kissing her forehead and then pressing mine to hers. "It's best to talk about such things, sometimes," I tell her gently but seriously. "And don't you worry about me. You know I am no child. I know there are horrors in the world. But you bring me more joy than I could find in all of Thedas, even if I searched all my days. I will always be here for you, ma vhenan. Always."
At last, Gamlen returns with Isabela in tow. Thank Mythal, I'm not sure I could have kept Hawke conscious for much longer. Hawke's uncle shows our pirate friend into the room, then settles down on a chair in the corner, trying to look as though he's not staring at Isabela's chest. He's not doing a very good job.
"Hawke!" Isabela gasps at the sight of Hawke's blood covered form on the bed. She drops down beside the bed, across from me. "Who did this? If they're not dead yet, they very soon will be," she promises, a hard look in her golden eyes.
"They're dead," I assure her grimly. "Did you bring elfroot?"
Isabela pulls a flask of the stuff from her belt and hands it over. "All I had on me. I hope it's enough for now."
I uncork the flask, holding it to Hawke's lips for her to drink. She drinks down half of it in a few gulps,
"Varric's gone to get Anders." Isabela rifles a gentle hand through Hawke's hair, smiling at her. "He's running as fast as his little legs can carry him. Will you be alright 'til he gets help?"
Hawke nods, giving Isabela a weak smile in return. "I'll survive. Thank you, Isabela."
"Anything for you and kitten, sweet thing." Isabela's expression grows serious. "What happened to you two? Who did this?"
As I put the rest of the potion to use, cleaning Hawke's wounds with it as gently as I can, Hawke slowly tells her about Meeran's attack, though she leaves out a few details such as the bastard's abuse of her, making it seem as though Meeran's violence and hostility stemmed from his desperation at losing business and Hawke's refusal to work for him again rather than anything more sinister. Isabela's eyes burn bright with satisfaction and pride when she learns that we defeated a whole company by ourselves.
"And you did all of that half dead from exhaustion, and drained of magic to boot," she says wonderingly, shaking her head a little. "That, I would have loved to see. Of course, if I'd been there with you, I would have been too busy sticking my daggers in their eyes to see anything with my own. But that's damned impressive, girls."
Hawke grins at me. "You should have seen Merrill. She was amazing!" I blush, ducking my head and concentrating on swabbing Hawke's wound without causing her more pain. "I lost count of how many times she saved my life tonight."
Isabela squeezes Hawke's hand, giving me an affectionate look. "That's my girl. I'm sorry you got into such a mess, and I wasn't around to help, but I'm glad you're both alright. Is there anything else I can do?"
"Could you go and find Aveline, if she's on duty?" Hawke asks. The potion has put back some of the colour into her cheeks, and it's not so hard for her to speak now. She looks so much better already! "If it's not too much trouble. She'll need to be told sooner or later, and this way maybe she can get her guards to clean up the bodies before sunrise." She manages a faint grin. "There are rather a lot of them, and it wouldn't be very pleasant to step out of your door and trip over a corpse."
Isabela snorts delicately. "Not exactly an uncommon occurrence for Lowtown citizens. But I take your point. I'll go find Big Girl, or whoever's her second tonight if she's off duty." A smirk plays over her full mouth. "If she ever does go off duty." Isabela kisses the tips of her fingers and places them on Hawke's forehead, ruffles my hair as she walks around the bed and heads for the door. "I'll be back. Sit tight 'til Varric drags Anders here."
I examine Hawke's wounds critically, noting happily that the elfroot is slowing a lot of the bleeding. "That looks better, ma vhenan," I tell her, lifting her hand gently to my lips and placing a soft kiss on her knuckles. "How are you feeling now?"
"Better, love," Hawke says, her eyes tired. "A little thirsty."
I stand and look at Gamlen, watching us from his corner. "Do you have any water?"
He shrugs and gestures lazily to the main room. "I've got a pitcher out there somewhere. Might have something in it."
I roll my eyes a little. Right. I'll get it then, shall I? "I'll just be a moment, Hawke." I kiss her cheek, mindful of her uncle's avid gaze, and go in search of the pitcher that may or may not contain water.
Gods, this place is a mess! I bet it wasn't this dreadful when Hawke and her family lived here. I scan the room, but can't make out anything even vaguely pitcher-shaped in all the odds and ends lying about everywhere. Why wouldn't he keep his water somewhere he could easily get to it? Sighing, I begin searching, keeping an ear on the goings-on in Gamlen's room. Not that I think it likely that Hawke is in immediate danger from her wounds anymore, but still, better safe than sorry.
I hear creaking and footsteps as Gamlen gets up and crosses to the bed, but nothing after that. Curious, I glance over my shoulder, peering through the open bedroom door. Gamlen is... sort of half sitting on the bed next to Hawke, dabbing awkwardly but gently at the beads of perspiration on her forehead. Hawke's expression is a combination of uncomfortable bemusement and wry appreciation. I smile a little to myself. He really does care about his niece, for all his grumpiness. It's sort of a sweet moment, really.
A sweet moment that Gamlen quickly ruins, of course. "So, I hear you've been playing house with that little elf wench?" he begins, looking askance at Hawke and cocking his head in my direction. I glance quickly away before he sees me watching them, still listening to see how he can possibly make things more awkward. I move around the room quietly, noticing a half-full water pitcher and a mug on an upturned barrel pretending to be a table in the corner. Grabbing them, I move closer to the door, peering carefully around the frame, not wanting to be seen. But I can't help but be curious about what will come out of Gamlen's mouth next. And how Hawke will react to it...
Hawke is frowning at him. "She's not a 'wench', Gamlen," she corrects him crossly. "Her name is Merrill. You know that."
"I know, I know, didn't meant to offend, girl," he says, waving a careless hand. "Didn't know you were into elves is all. Takes all kinds, I suppose." Oblivious to her glare, he leans closer. "The two of you are the talk of Lowtown, you know. Those Dalish don't really wear clothes, right? Nice!" Ignoring Hawke's look of shock, he grins. "What's that like, then? Two women? I've always wondered..."
"That is most certainly none of your business, uncle," Hawke snaps, cutting him off angrily. "What difference does it make that Merrill is an elf? And I'll not have you talking about her like that again, do you hear? She deserves your respect."
His only reaction to her outburst is to raise his eyebrows a little and widen his grin. "You're the image of your mother, glaring at me like that," he chuckles.
Hawke glares at him harder, and I decide to come back in very quickly.
"Found it!" I announce, smiling at the two of them, trying to behave as I would if I hadn't heard their conversation. I might fool Gamlen, at least, since he hardly knows me. Other than as "that little elf wench, apparently. I suppose I might be offended if I didn't sort of expect that sort of thing from him already. I know he doesn't really mean any harm. As Hawke says, he just doesn't really think. I pour a mug for Hawke and help her lift her head to sip at the water. "Here, ma vhenan."
Gamlen rises, stepping back a little, and then stands awkwardly by the bed, unsure of what to do with himself, I suppose. "Gamlen, do you think you could possibly go and tell Leandra what happened?" I suggest gently. "I know it's a long way to Hightown, and it's past sunset and all, but would you mind? Tell her not to worry, Hawke will be fine, but we won't be able to move Hawke until Anders comes to help her."
"And tell her not to worry about coming here," Hawke adds. She grins at me and I smile back; we both know Leandra too well. "If she insists, tell her we both said it's needless. We'll be coming back to Hightown as soon as I can be moved safely."
He nods, obviously eager to have something to do. "Alright, I'll go. Maybe wait with her awhile, if she likes. You'll be alright?" At Hawke's nod, he moves to the door. "Alright. If I'm not back before you leave, be sure to lock up. I may not have much, but what I've got I'd like to keep."
Once we're alone again, I smile at Hawke, hiding my concern at the shadows of pain and exhaustion in her eyes. "Your uncle's not so bad, really," I comment lightly. "He doesn't mean any harm with the things he says, we both know that. He's just..."
"...the way he is," Hawke finishes for me, and sighs. "I know. But I wasn't in the mood to listen to him talking like that about us. About you."
"He might have been trying to take your mind off things, in his way," I suggest. "He does care for you at least a bit, you can see that for certain." I take the rag he'd been using to sponge Hawke's forehead and wet it a little, wiping her face with it, paying particular attention to the place on her cheek where Meeran licked her, then kissing the spot to erase it completely from both our minds.
"I know," Hawke concedes. "For all his flaws and mistakes, he does try, sometimes." She raises a hand and cups my cheek. Her skin feels a little too hot. "How are you, love?" she asks, looking me over.
I smile at her concern; I'm not the one lying on a bed with holes in me. "I'm fine, ma vhenan. Don't you worry about me."
Her eyes remain worried. "You're not hurt? Are you tired? Is your mana recovering at all?"
I shake my head to the first question, nod a little to the second, and reply to the third. "Yes, a bit. Slowly, but it's coming back to me now. How about you?"
She shakes her head, grimacing. "No, not yet, really. The magebane got into my blood when I was stabbed. It will take a while to dissipate. My mana will begin to regenerate after that."
"Is there anything I can do, ma vhenan?" I ask, adding hurriedly, "I mean, I know I'm not good enough to heal this properly, but..."
Hawke gives me a smile brimful of love as I my words falter. "You could do it, Merrill. With guidance, and at your full strength, yes you could do it," she tells me firmly. "But not as tired and drained as you are now. That is asking too much of any healer." She is silent for a moment, biting her lip a little as she does sometimes when she's thinking. "Though there is something you may be able to do, until Anders gets here. If you feel up to it."
Well of course I do! Anything, for her. "What is it, Hawke? If it will help, I'll do it, of course I will!"
"You can slow down the bleeding further, perhaps even stay it altogether until Anders gets here. That would help a great deal. Do you remember how?"
I nod, but then hesitate. Controlling her blood flow... that's dangerous. I could stop her heart if I don't do it right. I want to help, but this is a much worse wound than I've worked on before, and Hawke doesn't have the strength to guide me. "It's just... the Keeper always said that when it comes to healing, if you don't know what you're doing you can do more harm than good, and this is much worse than a cut finger or a bump on the head or a small hurt like that..."
"Merrill, it's alright," Hawke assures me. "You've done this before. It's just on a bigger scale. I can't help you with my magic, but I can talk you through. I'll guide you as much as I can." She smiles. "But if it helps, think of it this way. You would never hurt me, would you."
It's not a question, not really, but I answer anyway. "No! I couldn't, Hawke, I'd never hurt you."
"There you go, then," Hawke says, as though the matter is settled. "See? You can't fail."
I smile despite myself. "Ma vhenan, I don't think it quite works that way."
"Just try to think of it like that. It'll help, I promise." Hawke pats the side of the bed next to her. "It's better if you're comfortable. You might have to do this for a while. Ready?" She lifts her good arm invitingly.
I smile, and climb onto the bed, lying down carefully beside her. "Alright, my love."
She wraps her arm about me, and I place my hand carefully over the clean rag on her wound. She arranges my hand so the tips of my fingers are touching the unbroken skin around the gash in her middle.
"You only need a little contact," she tells me. "A practiced healer at full strength may not necessarily need it. But since you've not got much mana at the moment, physical contact is needed. Is the wound clear of magebane?"
"I think so." If only we had some lyrium too. Oh yes, and if wishes were Halla, my clan and our aravels wouldn't be collecting dust on the side of a godsforsaken mountain. Probably.
I reach out with my mana like she taught me and search with my awareness until I find her inner core, a small flickering ember of magic where the burning fire of her power would usually be, under normal circumstances. It is enough for a connection though, and I slip much more easily than I thought into the fabric of her being, matching the rhythm of her heart and gaining control of the flow of her blood without much difficulty. Carefully, I impose my will on it, keeping it flowing about her body and preventing it from flowing out of it anymore.
"That's it," Hawke murmurs in approval, her voice worn out but proud. "You just need to keep that up now, until Anders gets here or for as long as you can safely manage. Are you alright?"
I nod, too wrapped up in what I am doing to answer verbally. A few minutes pass in silence as I grow more confident in my ability. I can do this!
"What's that you're saying?" Hawke's tired voice breaks into my concentration a little, though I don't waver in my task.
What was I saying? I... didn't think I was saying anything...
"Was I speaking?" I ask in surprise. Could I have been focusing too hard to hear myself? "I don't know what I was saying, I didn't know I was talking at all." Creators, how embarrassing! "What did it sound like?"
"It was elven, I think," Hawke replies, her brow wrinkling a little. "Mel... melava inan... ena... something. I don't know, you were whispering. I couldn't really hear. It just sounded as though you were reciting something."
Oh. Of course. "Suledin," I murmur. Endure. An appropriate wish, given the situation, both for my poor hurt Hawke, and for myself in my current task. Not surprising I would choose to recite that poem, even though I was unaware that I was doing it at all.
Hawke looks at me patiently, waiting for an explanation. "I was reciting a poem called Suledin," I tell her, pleased to find that I can carry on with controlling the flow of her blood quite easily now, and speak without losing concentration. "It means 'endure'. As the name suggests, it is about enduring and emerging from sorrow in general, but more specifically it was written about the loss of the ancient lands of the Elvhenan. But we often use it to speak of personal struggles as well."
"Do you think you'd mind reciting it for me?" Hawke asks quietly. "I'd like to hear it."
I nod; the rhythm of it certainly seemed to help my concentration before. And I do enjoy sharing my heritage with Hawke. "Of course, ma vhenan." My voice grows calm and soothing as I begin:
"Melava inan enansal
ir su araval tu elvaral.
U na emma abelas
in elgar sa vir mana.
Lath sulevin
lath araval ena
arla ven tu vir mahvir
melana 'nehn
enasal ir sa lethalin."
Hawke smiles as I finish. "I love the sound of your voice even more when you speak elven," she murmurs, half to herself. "What does it mean?"
"Well... It doesn't really translate into this language very well. At least, not with the level of knowledge of our lost language that my clan possesses. Perhaps other clans can interpret it with different or deeper meaning, but I will try." I think for a bit. "Roughly, I can translate it as:
Time was once a blessing
but long journeys are made longer
when alone within.
Take spirit from the long ago
but do not dwell in lands no longer yours.
Be certain in need,
and the path will emerge
to a home tomorrow
and time will again
be the joy it once was."
"A strong poem," Hawke says softly, and smiles. "It doesn't sound quite as nice in our tongue. Elven words are far lovelier."
"It sounds even prettier as a song," I tell her.
If Hawke were a mabari, I would swear her ears would have perked right up at that. "A song?" Her blue eyes widen, a hopeful look in them. "Merrill... will you sing it for me? Please? While we're waiting for the others to arrive?"
Ah, well I walked straight into that one, didn't I? How can I resist those eyes? Well. It will help to keep her awake, at least, if I teach her and get her to sing it too. And after all, I would do anything for her, wouldn't I? Lucky for me that I'm not all that shy about singing, not really. In front of a lot of people, maybe, but not my Hawke. Besides, a Keeper should know all the old songs and stories that the clan can remember, both for the rituals that call for certain songs and because they contain the history of our ancestors. That was the part of my training that I liked best of all, I think, learning the songs and tales of our people. And... not that I could ever bring myself to say so out loud, but... I think I have a pleasant enough singing voice. Mahariel used to say so, anyway.
And I would love to hear the way Hawke's lovely, melodious voice sounds when raised in song, not to mention one written in the language of my people. That in itself would be a magic I cannot describe in words.
"Oh, alright," I give in to her, smiling at the very sweet, very child-like look of pleading on her beautiful face. As her eyes light up, I hold up a finger. "On one condition; you let me teach it to you, and then you accompany me. I don't want to be the only one turning red with embarrassment when Anders and Varric walk through that door to see us lying here singing to one another like lovesick fools."
Hawke laughs softly, and nods in agreement. "I accept your terms. Let's give Varric more fodder for his stories."
I sing, softly at first, and Hawke simply listens, her eyes glowing with delight. Soon she begins singing with me, haltingly at first so that I can correct her pronunciations. Teaching her the song actually helps my concentration as I work my healing spell, to my surprise, and soon we are singing together.
I knew her singing voice would be beautiful.
When Anders and Varric come in we hardly notice, though we do stop singing once we become aware of them watching; Anders scowling and Varric smirking that little secretive smile of his that means what he sees will soon feature in one of his stories. Hugely exaggerated of course. I don't mind this time. He can make it into a silly tale if he likes; it doesn't matter. All that matters at this moment is that Hawke will be well, in time. Physically, now that Anders is here to help us, yes, but more importantly, she will be well in spirit. And that, I know, is due to her own inner strength, and the strength she finds in me. I saw the dark memories clouding her lovely blue eyes fade as we sang together, as the joy of music and the love between us pushed back the shadows. And as she gazed at me, her countenance filled with love and light and laughter, I knew that the two of us together can... well, we can do just about anything. Things will always come right in the end.
As long as we have each other.
There we go. Hope it's still an enjoyable read. Thank you for reading, and for all for your reviews, and for favouriting and following! I'll be back with another chapter sometime after my Dragon Age Inquisition excitement wears off, probably inspired with more fodder for my own stories ;p
DRAGON AGE INQUISITION! WOOO!