Kreigen

It had been nine minutes and thirty one seconds exactly. Merrill counted the moments under her breath, sat quietly, cross legged on the splintering wood floor of her Alienage home with the Eluvian towering in front of her. She was staring at her pale, bony hands, wringing them into each other as a cold sweat formed on her skin. She had been counting obsessively, trying so hard to distract herself since the door had shut with a gentle yet empty thud. The Dalish Elf sighed – that had been ten minutes and twelve seconds ago by her count, however she could feel the counting losing its power as the memory of now ten minutes twenty two seconds ago began to jostle more vociferously for attention. It sat dormant in the pit of her stomach, brooding, chastening her. She flinched as it dug in its claws, climbing up her little lean mage body to form a near painful lump in her throat. Unclenching a hand she placed a drenched hand to her burning throat. The sensation was too much; Merrill raised her eyes to gaze hopelessly at the broken mirror before her.
Her concentration was broken immediately by the sight of the ancient Elven relic; the crux of her anxiety and ultimately the catalyst that lead to the earlier conversation which was stubbornly refusing to shift itself from her consciousness. Merrill brushed her fingers delicately across the twisted frame of the Eluvian, and at the touch felt the lump in her throat uncoil into vines and snake back into her immediate awareness like poison ivy.
"Someday I'll make this up to you Lethallan"
She mouthed the words she had spoken to Hawke and instantly grabbed her hair in frustration and bit her lip,
"By the Dread Wolf Merrill!"
Three years. Three years she had waited and a better opportunity had not presented itself. The beautiful, kindly warrior had been sat here – in Merrill's own house, throwing complements at her! Even before the events at Sundermount over the Arulin'Holm Merrill had started to realise that Hawke was beginning to steal her affections, but when the warrior had handed over the ancient tool without so much as a frown, Merrill had tumbled the last few steps into full blown love. Hawke understood! She trusted her without treating her like a wayward burden like the Keeper did, or constantly reprimanding her like Anders or Fenris. Hawke had passed the Arulin'Holm into Merrill's hands without question, unflinchingly ignoring the council of the more experienced Marethari and disregarding the comments of nearly all of her other companions. It was a bold act of friendship and loyalty – perhaps even a little blind and foolish. Surely Hawke could only make a decision that impetuous if she too felt something stronger than friendship between the two of them? Even when Hawke had come round today she has seemed to be reciprocating Merrill's feelings somewhat. The kind remarks, the warm smile without a hint of pity or cynicism; it felt like Hawke had become because she wanted to, not because she felt obliged to. For once in her life, Merrill felt more than merely tolerated.
"It's hard to imagine someone more lovable than you"
She mouthed the words Hawke had used to describe her and felt an icy rush slink down the small of her back like a chilled finger. Was she lovable? Isabela was forever calling her "Kitten", but this somehow felt different, more serious. Was she lovable in the long-term, intimate sense, not just as one coos at a baby animal? Was there a chance that she could prove herself to be more than the pariah her clan were all merely waiting for her to become? If tall, fair haired Hawke with her enchanting blue eyes could love her, perhaps there was hope…
And yet, she had bottled it. She had her chance to test Hawke's feelings for her and had swallowed the words straight from her tongue and worried herself out of the critical moment. Even now she was unsure if she was merely constructing the scenario she longed for out of ambiguous cues. The whole notion seemed so dreamlike and improbable; especially taking everything she had put Hawke through into account: the Varterral, blood magic, the mirror, and practically forcing her to defy the Keeper. Merrill felt her heart sink, nothing she saw in herself was anything she thought could be properly loved. Not one inch.
"You fool" she whispered, "You're nothing but trouble"
Thinking back to Sundermount she wondered about Pol and felt guilt join her regret and worry. The elf had run straight into the hands of a monster rather than stand within five metres of her. They had been friends, once – when she had any left of her own kind. Now he lay, bludgeoned by the claws of the Varterral, all because of her, her demon, and her blood magic. Pol died because of her choices.
The concoction of debilitating emotions made the elf begin to tear up. Right now she could not think of anyone she wanted to see more than Hawke, yet she had pretty much allowed her to walk away unchecked – letting her believe that Merrill did not care for her. The young elf's feelings quickly morphed to frustration. Right now Hawke was probably prowling the Hanged Man, searching for Isabella or some other girl to fill her night. She became ridiculously certain that she had probably missed her one and only chance to win the warrior's heart. A woman like Hawke wasn't going to wait around for a troubled elven mage, too naïve to even figure out how to express her feelings.
Merrill snapped out of her self-berating and frowned at herself, chiding her cowardice. She had left behind her family, her clan, and now she was going to watch Hawke walk into the arms of another woman when in reality, she was almost all Merrill had to be thankful for, and the thought of losing her too was too bitter to imagine. Renewing her resolve, she stood up on her wobbly legs.
"Don't be so pathetic Merrill. Not this time."
She brushed the dust off her behind and smoothed her hair, trying to look less dishevelled. Casting out her rising doubts she turned on her heel away from the mirror and swung out into the Lowtown night.
The Alienage stood deserted, dark and unsettling, save for a suspicious looking male elf skulking in a far corner. He looked up at the sound of her door, squinted his grey eyes at her, then walked off. Merrill often marvelled at how little trouble she had run into in this part of town. It was almost as if someone was paying them to leave her alone…
As she padded through the dusky square in her sole less shoes, past shrouded shacks with drawn moth-eaten curtains, she was at a loss for what sort of plan she was going to enact if she did indeed manage to find Hawke tonight. At the sound of a box overturning and smashing, Merrill quickened her pace, putting space in between her and the raised male voices that sounded dangerously close. She began to regret her knee-jerk decision to run out this late at night. Hawke surely would not approve of it if she found out. She shivered and drew her tattered cloak around her trembling shoulders.
"Ma Vhenan" she whispered, "This better be worth it".

As the sound of rowdy singing, the thudding of goblets, and puke hitting the floor assailed her pointed ears, Merrill knew she was near the infamous pub. For some reason, The Hanged Man had been the first place she had thought to look for Hawke at, but the closer she got to the heaving building, the less certain she became that this had been a wise choice. She wasn't even entirely sure what she expected to find here; Isabella sat on Hawke's lap? A drunken Hawke surrounded by a crowd of patrons regaling them with the tale of frigid Dalish Elf who had turned her down? Merrill stopped in the middle of the street and bit the ends of her cold fingers, rooted to the spot with trepidation. Her feet seemed unable to make a decision of which direction to turn in next: round the corner to the entrance, or an about-turn back to the alienage.
As she stood there, getting rapidly colder, her discomfort increasing by the second, torturing herself with the worst possible scenarios available; she began to realise she may have misjudged Hawke in coming to look for her here first. Would the noble, kindly Hawke (that she thought she knew at least) really turn to such gaudy comforts in a matter of minutes just because her elven friend had taken a shy turn to her advances (if they had been advances at all)? Were there not more salient places that she would have visited first; her Hightown home to speak to her Mother? Perhaps even her Uncle's Lowtown dwellings? Merrill felt misery begin to consume her, it hadn't occurred to her earlier that she may have even upset Hawke or seriously hurt her feelings. A warrior like her was bound to have an enormous pride with a great potential to be wounded- that is if she wasn't being presumptuous in thinking she had the power to do that to Hawke. Merrill's brow began to feel inordinately heavy as she evaluated all the new considerations compounding her choice. She stared aimlessly at the walls of the cream coloured, dusty alleyway, feeling foolish.
"I shouldn't have come…" she whispered. Merrill hugged her gangly arms around her spindly body and held back a frustrated sob.
Just as she began to turn on her heel back towards home, Merrill's eyes were drawn suddenly to a swaying figure stumbling and swaggering around the corner precariously. Squinting her green eyes – Merrill recognised a familiar scantily clad woman – blue bandana askew on the top of her head. The woman steadied herself on an alley wall, before rubbing her eyes and staring at Merrill. Merrill gulped in panic and embarrassment, and made a futile attempt to skulk in the nearest shadow.
"Kitten?" Isabella regained her composure by tugging her corset up, "Are you actually there or am I imagining you?" she pulled at the sash at her waist and took a backwards glance at the male silhouette walking in the opposite direction behind her.
"I'll catch up with you for round two!"
The man acknowledged her with a nod, and carried on walking.
Merrill scurried half-worried, half-cursing to Isabella's side and helped to steady her to a straight(ish) standing position. Isabella tottered unevenly on her pirate boots.
"Kitten…" she pointed at Merrill's chest and poked her sternum accusatorily, "Why in the name of Andraste's underwear are you out here alone at this time of night" she slurred.
Merrill felt her face flush, hoping that it was too dark and Isabella was too drunk to realise how flustered the elf was,
"I…I was trying to…find…someone" she murmured.
"Oh." Isabella leered, "Well I'm busy tonight, but I suppose, if you wanted to join in…"
"IwaslookingforHawke!" Merrill rushed out before Isabella could finish her sentence. Isabella raised an eyebrow, paused to consider the implications of Merrill's statement, and smirked.
"I seeeeeeeeee" she winked at Merrill conspiratorially.
"No! I…" Merrill threw her gaze to the floor, wondering how Isabella could have possibly guessed her motives that quickly, "I mean she is lovely but I just needed a chat, y'know? About…" Merrill desperately tried to think of any excuse, "Things! Adventury…questy...things. Not…." Merrill cleared her throat, "Dirty...things. Not-"
"It's okay Kitten" Isabella put her hands on Merrill's shoulders and brought her ale-smelling breath to Merrill's ear, "Nothing escapes-"
Isabella pushed Merrill sharply aside to throw up against the wall violently. Merrill retreated and hung back, watching the women wretch against the wall. Awkwardly, she placed a tentative hand on Isabella's back – only to withdraw it quickly when the pirate uttered a guttural groan.
"I should go" Merrill spoke.
"No!" Isabella turned too fast and stumbled over, "No…" she repeated, picking herself up, "Where are you going?"
"Home -" Merrill began.
"Pfft" Isabella grabbed Merrill's wrist, "No you're not! We're going to find that human of yours."
"No, Isabella – I don't think –" Merrill babbled.
"Don't worry Kitten, something tells me Hawke might have a thing for elves" Isabella sniggered mischievously.
"Is that why she is always so nice to Fenris even when he's so moody?"
"Not exactly Kitten" Isabella began to drag Merrill around the corner, "I think it might be a specifically female thing."
"Well that will be why the Keeper likes her so much too" Merrill stated, matter-of-factly.
Isabella shot Merrill a dumbfounded look and burst into a fit of laughter.
"Oh Kitten you really are precious. Come on, you'll need protection!"
Merrill disguised a laugh with a cough as she surveyed the mess before her, not convinced Isabella could even protect herself at this moment.
"Isabella, where are we even going? I'm not even sure where Hawke is."
Isabella turned sharply and knocked into wall face first, reeling back she half-focussed on Merrill's eyes, her gaze uncertain.
"Any ideas?" she asked, apparently ignoring the previous blunder.
"Well, she might have gone to visit her Unc-"
"Great idea!" Isabella tugged determinedly at Merrill's arm, "Let's go see Gamlen! The miserable old dog will love a visit from two gorgeous young women!"
"I…" Merrill began to protest, no longer sure she wanted to visit Hawke's slightly lecherous Uncle in his run-down Lowtown shack when Isabella put it like that. Isabella had, however, already begun to drag her along in zig-zags. Repeatedly cursing herself for ever leaving her house, Merrill allowed herself to be pulled along by the pirate's unusually firm grip, guiltily wishing that her rogue friend would pass out soon and let the elf skulk back home and pretend this incident had never occurred. Tripping over her petite feet, Merrill seriously doubted Isabella could remember the way to Gamlen's house any more.
"I don't know what you would have done if I hadn't found you!" Isabella shouted back at the elf.

The square which Gamlen's house sat within could be described, at best, as aesthetically unremarkable, and at worst, as aesthetically depressing. The depressing, haphazard spikes protruding from the staircases and tracing crooked paths to the sky from the top of the high-rise buildings did not engender hope in Merrill. As she was dragged into the clearing, her feet scuffing up grit from the floor, she couldn't help but long to be in the dejected yet homely Alienage rather that prowling around the gritty, stained, unwelcoming Lowtown streets. After a quick scan of the all-encompassing collection of towers, doors and staircases, Merrill quickly counted four suspicious looking stains and one rather mangy looking, wiry dog, sniffing at all the staircase edges as he padded in and out of the dispersed torchlight. The illuminated patches seemed to huddle together and flicker as if trembling, afraid of touching any edge that remained in shadows.
Merrill snapped out of her distracted trance and realised suddenly that Isabella had left her standing on her own at the bottom of the stairs that led to Gamlen's front door. She nimbly skipped up to Isabella's side and huddled close, all of a sudden extremely uncomfortable with being out at night alone. It was something about the dog, she told herself – he had been giving her a funny, hungry sort-of look.
"This place needs some gardens" she half-whimpered to herself.
Isabella, the meantime, had been occupying herself with hammering on Gamlen's door with her fist in a haphazard manner. The door looked as if it was struggling to stay on its hinges as the thuds echoed across the deserted yard.
"Isabella!" Merrill hissed, grabbing onto the pirate's shoulders from behind and holding close to her, "I don't think…"
"Just a second" Isabella interrupted, ignoring the elf's concerns. She stopped hitting the door, brushed Merrill aside and rocked back on her heels before cupping her hands around her mouth,
"Gamlen! Gamlen is Hawke there?"
Merrill jumped to Isabella's side to plaster her hand across the pirate's mouth,
"Isabella!" she cringed, "We're going to get in so much trouble!"
Isabella removed Merrill's slight hand from her face to reveal an uncanny smirk,
"That's how you have all the fun!"
A light thud emanated from the house without warning. Merrill winced - now she thought about it, they didn't even know Gamlen that well; they had only really come in contact with him when they had first met Hawke, when she had been shelled up in his dingy house. From the little experience she had of him, Merrill suspected that he would simply shout at them and send them away. Even more worryingly, if Hawke was there, how insane was Merrill going to appear? Isabella would just be nonchalant as ever and swagger it off, but Merrill would never live down the humiliation…
"Let's run" she blurted out.
"Too late Kitten" Isabella grabbed Merrill's hand swiftly, "We'll play knock and run some other time" she winked at her friend, "I'm good at it"
The door began to shudder pre-emptively.
"Alright! Alright…I fell asleep" a voice grumbled thickly, "No need to start a blight over it!"
The door stuttered open in two sharp tugs and Gamlen stood before them, dark circles under his eyes, the lines on his face appearing etched in with a chisel. His clothes, Merrill noted, wrinkling her nose, smelt decidedly unwashed. Gamlen rubbed his greasy grey hair, moved down to his stubble, and then pressed his eyes in confusion,
"You're not what I ordered…elves?" I'm not that…" Gamlen shot a dirty look at Merrill and paused in horror as his eyes focussed,
"Wait, you're…" he sighed irritably, "You're Hawke's blasted friends!"
Isabella however, had not so readily forgotten his earlier mistake,
"Expecting someone?" she chuckled mischievously.
Gamlen coughed and became immediately fascinated with something on the ground.
"Are you expecting a visitor?" Merrill babbled, far too quickly, "Oh how nice! Sorry to have interrupted, okay Isabella let's-"
"So, Hawke isn't here old man?" Isabella cut in, squeezing the elf's hand tighter.
"Of course she isn't!" he frowned at Isabella, deepening the lines on his face into craters, "She barely ever comes by! After all I did for her! Just sits in her lofty palace and occasionally comes by to pity or criticise me" he spat on the floor, "What the hell do you want with her anyway?"
"Oh, nothing! Just…checking up on her, you know, making sure she's safe" Merrill blabbered.
Gamelen squinted, his face deadpan.
"You better have a more convincing answer than that for nearly breaking my door down, elf"
Isabella mock punched him on the shoulder a little too hard and winked,
"Well your niece is quite the dark horse if you must know old man!" she burst into a fit of laughing, which quickly evolved into a fit of coughing. Merrill and Gamelen exchanged perplexed looks as the pirate doubled over. Isabella cleared her throat,
"Okay, I have a delivery to make"
Gamlen allowed himself to snort,
"Really?" he eyed Merrill who stood mortified, biting her lips, "Is that what this is all about?" his expression quickly turned to amusement, "I thought you kept to your own kind…?"
Merrill began to panic,
"It isn't about anything! No!" she put her free hand to her forehead, "No this has all gone horribly wrong!"
Gamlen shook his head, quickly losing interest in the situation,
"You'll find he on top of her ivory tower"
"What tower?" Merrill replied, utterly confused.
"Just sod off"
Gamlen promptly slammed the door in their faces.
"That went better than expected!" Isabella slapped her thigh jovially, "Hightown it is then! I need to find my entertainment for the night anyway!"
Merrill practically flew down the stairs as the pirate raced down the steps back onto the street. She barely had enough time to process all the terrible, embarrassing consequences of the encounter that had just passed, let alone where this tower may be.
On a positive note, Isabella appeared to have sobered up enough to lead them in a straight line up towards Hightown. But with every step closer to her originally intended destination the elf took, the more she felt the awful anticipation begin to choke her under her light scarf. It was as if with every step she became less and less able to breathe evenly, her heart racing a marathon in spirit under her petite chest. She felt a cold sweat form between her shoulder blades and spread to the small of her back as she considered what she was actually going to say to Hawke once she got there. Merrill had no idea how to bring up a topic like attraction, love…sex up without getting flustered. Merrill shivered at the thought of the words alone. How could she flirt with a woman like Hawke without succumbing to the near-crippling fear of being turned down?
The houses raced by her peripheral vision as she allowed herself to be led - half-hypnotised and lost in her own crushing anxieties. Before she could begin to form a coherent sort of plan, her thoughts were suddenly interrupted,
"Pretty…pretty sure this is my stop Kitten"
Merrill looked around; they had walked a very long way without her realising, and now were stood literally doors away from the Hawke estate. They had stopped at the fancy staircase to a well maintained, noble house.
"He's loaded" Isabella mock-whispered.
Merrill smiled in a forced way, longing for the pirate to leave now she was resigned to her fate of confronting Hawke. As if commanded by thought, Isabella let go of Merrill's hand and began to stumble up the stairs,
"Thank me later after you've visited your loverrrrrrrrrrrrrs Kitten!" Isabella slurred.
"She's not my-" Merrill felt her cheeks ignite again.
"She will be!" Isabella cut in. Merrill skulked away from her friend guiltily, not wanting to be caught with the rowdy woman. Merrill turned to leave,
"Oh and Merrill!" Isabella shouted, hanging over the balcony in front of the dark oak door, "I'm bloody jealous, give her one for me!"
Isabella turned to thump on the thick door as Merrill briskly scampered away with her glowing ember cheeks burning holes through the night. She was practically at Hawke's door before she had time to check if Isabella had the right house, or to clarify with Isabella exactly what she was supposed to be giving Hawke.
 
Still reeling heavily from the encounter with Isabella and Gamlen, and praying that the pirate could just keep her mouth shut for once (she suspected Gamlen could not be bothered to start spreading a rumour), Merrill stood before Hawke's front door, rocking from foot to foot. She had already more than once brought a clenched fist to open the door, only to withdraw it in a skittish flurry. She jumped up and down on the spot as a dozen surges of adrenaline sent her heart pacing round in circles.
"Come on Merrill!"
She shivered; it was starting to really chill over as the night deepened. The moon shone on, oblivious to her suffering, spotlighting her on the doorstep. She stood, near paralysed, willing herself to just force the moment. The worst that could conceivably happen was that Hawke would turn her away politely.
Yet that would be awful! All this effort, all the stumbling around Lowtown embarrassing herself, all the heartache and self-defeating, knotted thoughts – and for what? A gentle "No thank you". How foolish would she look then, waiting expectantly in the freezing cold, having ventured through several dangerous alleyways in the black of night? Then the added layer of whatever terrible, presumptuous rumours Isabella would spread would compound the issue even further. Merrill would look like she had expected Hawke to want her and that she had prematurely bragged about it. She would have to leave Kirkwall, the shame would be too great; everyone knew who Hawke was, so the dishonour would be widespread, and without Hawke, Merrill was almost friendless. The only option left would be back to the unwelcome hands of the Dalish, and that in turn meant relinquishing the Eluvian.
At the thought of her old clan, she couldn't help but wonder what they would make of all this. A human. She was in love with a human. When she said it like that it seemed both simple and impossible at the same time. What she felt was strong and pure, gentle and deeply powerful, but at the same time against everything she had been taught in her old clan. Elves and "shemlen" just weren't supposed to mix. To give in to this feeling was to defy the very ancient lore she was trying to preserve. Did that not make her even more of a hypocrite than her clan already thought she was? It wasn't like Merrill had paid too much attention to her clan's views; she had given herself to blood magic after all. But she didn't need any more disapproval from them. The demon and the Eluvian were part of her attempt to save them; this however, was not, so it was unlikely she could justify to them at all. Merrill felt her face fall and her eyes turn away as she considered forsaking the venture for yet another time this night. If this really happened, if Hawke accepted her, then what? Would she give Hawke up for the clan's approval if it came down to it? Would she abandon Hawke for the sake of the Eluvian?
Before she could seriously consider the question she heard a muffled voice from the other side of the door. The voice was childish and near shouting in broken phrases,
"Someone at door! Pretty lady!"
Merrill froze, she had forgotten about the creepy dwarf Hawke kept in her house. She had no idea how he knew she was there, but stood stone still and held her breath, willing the rest of the house to ignore him. As she stood rooted to the spot, another, softer and female voice followed the first one,
"Are you sure Sandal? I didn't hear anything"
Merrill yelped involuntarily.
"Pretty lady!"
"Alright, go back to bed, I'll deal with this"
If she left now Hawke would probably find out that she had run away. Merrill felt unbridled panic rise and her breath draw short, she had no option now – she had to open the door. She realised suddenly that she hadn't realistically expected to go through with this. Biting her tongue hard and closing her eyes she raised a hand and threw herself through the door.
She emerged into Hawke's vast, intricate lobby, lit by a few discreet candles on the wall. Hawke stood directly in front of the door, clothed in maroon coloured, embroidered finery, a look of bemusement across her face. Merrill gasped and instantly began to talk to mask her nervousness,
(*) "Oh thank goodness you're here! I thought you went to The Hanged Man" Merrill began to pace restlessly, "and I almost went there to look for you first but then I thought you might have gone to see your Uncle instead…" Merrill paused, wondering if it was completely wise to divulge the entire of her night's journey to the confused looking woman stood before her. She gathered herself and mentally stopped herself from blurting out the more embarrassing details of her trip, "And I'm rambling aren't I?" she finished, wondering how on Earth she had managed to make the situation even worse.
As she waited for Hawke's answer she realised she had never really seen Hawke out of her bulky armour before. The gentle cloth of the expensive robes clung to the warrior's toned yet feminine body, outlining her curves. Hawke's pale face gazed on with a hint of amusement, but with a glad smile.
"I don't mind" Hawke laughed, "You're adorable when you're flustered"
Adorable. Merrill turned the word over and over in her head. There were too many ways the word could be meant. She began falling back to fretting over vocabulary again; adorable, lovable, all the sort of words you can use to describe either a lover or a pet – why did Hawke keep using them about her?
Resolving not to stand and ruminate ad infinitum over one word, Merrill continued,
"After you left I…" she stumbled over her words again, feeling inadequate and overwhelmed in the lavish setting in her well-worn eleven clothing, "I couldn't stop thinking about Pol, and the and the mirror and…"
She wanted to say "you" but quickly changed her mind,
"...and everything that's happened" she added, "I wonder if…" Merrill thought about her clan, what the Keeper would say if she knew what she was hoping from this situation, "I've made a mistake, leaving the Dalish?"
It had crossed her mind that if she had stayed in the clan, she would not be obsessing over an ancient artefact, her friend would still be alive and she would not have got herself into this impossible situation with a human. Merrill caught the patient Hawke's gaze sheepishly, secretly hoping the warrior wouldn't agree.
"You're just feeling homesick" Hawke spoke kindly, "Don't second-guess yourself"
Merrill felt an internal sigh of relief; at least Hawke still wanted her around after she had turned up looking crazy and dishevelled in the middle of the night. Hawke looked on expectantly at Merrill, waiting for the elf to say more.
Merrill felt every joint and muscle in her body clench and stiffen as the words she had been meaning to say seemed to flow out of her mouth without any conscious direction.
"I suppose if I hadn't left my people, I never would have met you"
Merrill instantly regretted saying the words the moment they left her tongue. She had said too much already without any evidence that Hawke would actually reciprocate the feeling. She began to nervously mess with her hair,
"I'm not like you…" Merrill backtracked, her expression becoming sadder by the second, "…and I wish that I were" she dropped her hand to her side, "You're beautiful and clever and you never make any mistakes and I…"
Merrill became temporarily breathless,
"I don't deserve you"
"I'm not as perfect as you think Merrill, I'm not some sort of Goddess"
Merrill looked at Hawke in surprise,
"I wouldn't be so sure about that" Merrill smirked uncharacteristically flirtatiously, catching herself by surprise, "Some, people worship you from afar you know"
Instantly she regretted the remark, recognising the inherent forwardness in the comments, she sighed and began to withdraw again,
"It's foolish of me to even dream that you might…"
Hawke's expression shifted suddenly, her gaze seemed to cloud a little, a relief of sorts crossed her pink lips. Merrill watched, waited for the rejection, every vein pumping in anticipation. The response came in a deep, mirthful reply,
"You don't have to dream about it"
Desire overwhelmed Merrill, almost forcing a smile from pure happiness when shame and disbelief overrode the feeling. How could she deserve this? She hadn't even managed to answer her own question about whether or not Hawke or the Eluvian were more important. She became impossibly certain that eventually, she would hurt Hawke, or at least someone she loved, over the mirror. She took a step back and turned her eyes from Hawke, ashamed of her selfishness.
"Merrill?" said Hawke uncertainly, taking a step towards her.
Merrill did not lift her head until she felt a strong, smooth hand cup her chin. She leant into the palm and lifted her eyes, instantly making contact with Hawke's own.
"It's alright" laughed Hawke. (*)
At the sight of the human's softened, almost frightened face, Merrill felt her worries relax and become drowned out by the natural, inevitable longing roaring in her ears. The questions would not go away, but for now, they could be wished off as far as possible from the current moment.
Merrill felt herself plunge into the ocean within the other woman's eyes, drenching herself in the warrior's wanting look. Feeling as if she was almost floating, she instinctively threw her spindly arms around Hawke's strong shoulders and breathed her in.
The touch of Hawke's large lips on her own thin elven ones was almost overwhelming. She felt tingles, little tunnels of power through her limbs almost like when she was channelling the demon through blood magic. As the kiss deepened and lengthened she pressed harder, losing her breath when she felt Hawke's hands around her slight waist. She pushed her hips into Hawke's own, feeling a rising heat between the two of them. Aching with a long-held in passion, she pulled back reluctantly to speak, their faces only inches away,
"Me?" she whispered, never averting her eyes from their locked gaze. She drew Hawke's face in to whisper in her ear, "Are you sure?"
Merrill felt Hawke's lips softly kiss her pointed ear. Merrill moaned and felt her legs weaken considerably,
"I've only ever had eyes for you" Hawke purred into the elf's ear, slipping her hands lower to Merrill's hips, tracing the bone with her thumb. Merrill struggled to keep herself from crying out as she felt Hawke's lips kiss her neck,
"I haven't…I've never…" she gasped, worried that the warrior might expect her to be adept at this sort of thing.
Hawke drew back looking concerned suddenly,
"Is this too fast?" she spoke, stroking Merrill's smooth, jet black, cropped hair affectionately,
"No!" said Merrill quickly, "Lunging back in for a kiss. Hawke gripped her closer again. Merrill broke off to speak,
"Just, don't expect…"
"Expect what?"
"Me…to…" Merrill sighed sadly, "Live up to…be any…"
Hawke silenced her with her lips, kissing her gently. Hawke pulled herself back,
"My beautiful Dalish elf" she smiled, "You're already everything I could have hoped for"
Merrill let the last of her protests float and fall to the wind like discarded feathers; light and forgotten about, carried along by a force much greater than all of them combined. Without a wing to beat them, they diminished into worthlessness.
"This is more, more than I could ever have expected" she whispered,
"You can have more…" Hawke kissed her lightly again and entwined her fingers around Merrills, "If you want to"
Merrill tightened her grip around the warrior's hand and looked up from under her eyelids, communicating an unflinching affirmative to that statement.
No more needed to be said.

Silently, Hawke turned and delicately led the elf up the wide, dark oak staircase, clenching her fingers lightly against Merrill's slender own. Merrill stepped cautiously up the grand stairs, near oblivious to the extravagant room she was travelling though. She focussed only on the rising quickness strung between the base of her stomach and her breast bone. Skipping every other breath, she carefully followed the rippling robe that led her deeper and further up into the magnificent estate. Hawke's blonde hair bobbed up and down with each step, revealing small glimpses of pink neck. Merrill mentally skipped back to a few moments ago, her own neck pressed against Hawke's lips, weakening, acquiescing to the warm sensation of Hawke's inner mouth…
Suddenly, as they reached the top of the stairs, Merrill halted. Hawke tugged obliviously before turning around to face the elf, confusion and quiet desperation evident in her flustered expression and breathing. Merrill steadied herself, and then blurted out,
"I need you to kiss me again."
"No complaints there…" Hawke replied smugly, yet warily, "But why here?"
Merrill tried to think of an adequate reply, acutely aware her judgement was becoming increasingly impaired by the closeness of the Ferelden. How corny and naïve would it be to admit she was worrying that she had imagined the whole scenario downstairs? It all seemed so rosy and, admittedly, a little too good to be true. How insulting would it sound if she admitted she needed firm proof that Hawke didn't just want…sexual related concerns to be satisfied by her?
She was certain, without direct knowledge, that she wouldn't be Hawke's first foray into the bedroom. At the same time, she was also painfully aware of her own inexperience. She has never found anyone who she trusted enough (or conversely trusted her enough) to allow such a personal invasion into her life. Once she stepped over the threshold, she would be taking one of the most important gambles of her life. Isabella had once advised her not to bet anything she wasn't prepared to lose, and although Isabella wasn't the perfect model to follow (as she would only cheat if she was in the position of losing something important), the pirate did occasionally say something with a modicum of sense attached. Merrill loved Hawke – a fact that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore by the second; and consequently, she recognised that tearing herself away if Hawke didn't reciprocate the feeling, would be something she was barely strong enough to do. She couldn't bet on crossing that boundary without a clearer sense of what Hawke wanted from this situation, because she wouldn't be prepared to lose the connection they would inevitably make, so quickly after bringing it to life.
Merrill stood before the puzzled woman and continued to say nothing, unable to form an acceptable articulation of all the worried that flitted round her consciousness like flaming arrows. She leant back against the bannister, pushing it into the small of her back, and took both of Hawke's hands into her own. Hawke furrowed her brow, watching with a look of encroaching sadness that came from the fear of losing something you wished for the moment you are nearest to achieving it.
Merrill saw this look, and instantly smarted – feeling guilty for considering the possibility that Hawke was using her. However, she maintained her resolve, and sighed out the only four words she could think of to describe how she felt,
"I need to know"
Partial relief spread along Hawke's forehead,
"I told you, we can wait, I-"
"No, I want to" Merrill squeezed Hawke's fingers, "But…" she dropped her head, "I'm not like Isabella!" she blurted out.
Hawke titled her head and frowned again,
"Me and Isabella never…"
"You didn't?" Merrill replied, a little too fast, "I mean…that's not the point, I, well it was, but not-"
Hawke took one hand away from Merrill's grip and placed a finger on the elf's lips to stop the elf from stuttering. Merrill began to concentrate on the fingertip, burning a hole through her mouth, focussing all the force of a hurricane in one, soft, point. She succumbed, and delicately bit into it, kissing the woman's finger.
Hawke drew the digit back, and stepped as close as possible to Merrill without pushing her off the stairs.
"I have been waiting for you Merrill" she locked eyes with the elf, "This isn't some one night thing, I wouldn't do that to you."
Merrill's face lit up involuntarily,
"I know." Hawke spoke simply, and Merrill believed every word implicitly.
Merrill grinned from each pointy ear to ear, which caused Hawke to lean in, and plant a kiss so tender, the lightness of it almost punched Merrill in the gut. It was so promising, so full of wanting, and the night that lay before them. Merrill placed her arms back around Hawke's neck and embraced her as close as was humanly possible. In that moment, she let herself place all her bets on the possibility that once in her life, she might get exactly what she wanted.
Icy spiders began to crawl down Merrill's legs as they broke apart, and Hawke continued to lead her down the corridor to her bedroom. A sort of overexcited nausea near overpowered her as the practical reality of the situation fell heavily onto her shoulders. She was going to the bed with Hawke – a human, one of her only friends, one of the most respected individuals in the whole of Kirkwall…and she has nearly no idea what on Earth she was supposed to be doing.
Somehow, however, this anxiety didn't filter down to her legs, as her feet carried on scuttling closer to the door. Merrill bit her lip and put all her faith into another piece of advice Isabella had given her once – when they were playing cards in the Hanged Man:
"Oh Kitten, it will come to you, and when it does…it's bloody fantastic!"

Hawke's bedroom was almost excessively extravagant. As Merrill followed Hawke through the door, she felt suddenly crippled by the overbearing nature of her surroundings. This was far grander than what she was used to enduring in her leaky little Alienage shack. A beautiful, hand-crafted, red rug with golden borders lay underfoot, glowing with the warm light rumbling from a roaring fireplace. Exotic looking furniture, probably imported, stood in impeccable order, maximising the space in room and complementing the warm colour scheme; a surely deliberate consideration. The massive room was designed to elicit relaxation, calm, and the joy of luxurious indulgence, which Merrill would have been feeling if she had been in any other circumstance but this. Instead, she gazed at the room in shocked wonder, half-afraid of breaking something through her notorious clumsiness.
Hawke turned and walked behind Merrill as the elf stood dazed, and slid an arm around her waist, planting a tender kiss on the base of Merrill's sleek neck. Merrill snapped back to the immediate situation with an uncontrollable burst of adrenaline.
"Is this room too much?" Hawke spoke, the words seemingly sliding from her tongue as if lubricated.
"No!" Merrill whispered, half in awe, "It's wonderful!" she turned her body in Hawke's grip so she was facing the warrior, "Just like you".
Without hesitation she resumed kissing the warrior, her arms resting underneath Hawke's as Hawke brought her hands up to tenderly cup Merrill's face. Every sensation came in warm, delightful waves, pulsing through the elf's body. She began to crave Hawke's skin; the writhing flesh that remained guarded from touch felt like lyrium, the fuel to some greater power, the essential ingredient to a devastating spell.
In a gesture that surprised even herself, Merrill found herself drawing away from Hawke, entwining the finger of her right hand around Hawke's left. Moving almost entirely on an instinct she barely knew she possessed, she backed slowly towards Hawke's four-poster bed, leading the warrior to the mattress step by step. Every inch she neared closer further tightened the knot that wrenched near-painfully in her stomach. She barely knew what or how she was going to perform, or indeed what was expected of her. What she could feel, what she experienced, was an unrelenting drive which pierced through the deeper practicalities of the situation like a rogue's knife. She knew she wanted the bed, the other woman's body close to her own, to relinquish the timid control she held over herself. All the intention lay before her, the guiding actions were almost unimportant comparatively. She has taken a monumental leap existentially. Her prerogative, along with her values had a new focus, and she wasn't prepared to let them lose their hold so flippantly.
Merrill felt the back of her heels and thighs connect gently with the foot of the bed. Taking a glance over her shoulder, she proceeded to lay herself back slowly, locking Hawke with a sultry, fierce gaze. As her back connected with the bed, she felt she had landed on Earth, away from the concerns of the demon, the mirror, and all the Keeper's diatribe for the first time since she had left the Dalish. As Hawke lowered herself onto Merrill's expectant body, Merrill breathed a sigh of overwhelming relief and closed her eyes; not only at the touch of Hawke's lips at the nape of her neck, and the feel of Hawke's hands slinking around her body, but at the feeling of finding a place just for herself, without any other motive, for the first time. She wasn't the failed First or the Dalish Pariah, she was a desired companion – a lover. She closed her eyes and wished the exact feeling could go on forever.
Hawke sat up, moving her hands down Merrill's body and caught the elven mage's thoughtful expression,
"Are you alright?" she breathed, slightly rapidly.
Merrill grabbed onto the front of Hawke's robes and pulled her down to kiss her as an answer. It wasn't that she didn't have a reply for Hawke, she was just wary of saying anything that might cause the warrior to stop what she was doing.
Their limbs entwined as they rolled slightly to the side, hands tracing muscles and joints – charting the contours of each other's bodies. Merrill couldn't help but whimper every time Hawke's fingers traced a sensitive spot, or got too near the most wanting areas of her now demanding body. Merrill quickly got the feeling, however, that her lover was deliberately holding back from moving much further – almost as if she was frightened to. Every time she moved towards pushing it further or touching Merrill more intimately, she seemed to check herself and reel back. Merrill pulled out of kissing Hawke and brought her head up to whisper in the human's ear,
"It's alright, I'll need your help but…"
Realising, as ever, that words would most likely fail her, Merrill cut herself off for once and sat up slightly. Hawke watched in hesitant excitement as the elf slowly drew away her scarf and cloak, and made to undo the elven dress she always wore. Her hands began to fumble from excited trembling, but before she could let herself get angry over it, she felt Hawke's warm, solid yet slender hand envelop her own. She felt the shaking cease completely as Hawke gingerly helped her to remove the garment. As the cloth slid off her frame, Merrill felt as if she has shed a cocoon to reveal a creature that she barely knew has dwelled within her; a beautiful free-spirited entity. The vulnerability she had initially felt began to wash off her like a painted mask.
"I need your help too…" Hawke whispered, moving Merrill's hands to her own extravagant robes. Merrill's hands remained surprisingly steady as she helped the human undress, revealing inch by inch more of the body she has so long desired. She may not yet know exactly what she wanted from it – but now that thought almost seemed vaguely irrelevant.
The two women knelt facing each other, their bodies unclothed and so close they could raise the hairs on each other's arms. Hawke raised a hand on wonder, and ran a hand along Merrill's Dalish tattoos, softly tracing the patterns.
"You're beautiful"
Merrill wrapped her hands around Hawke's waist, feeling the transfer of beat between their bare skin. Hawke fell back onto the bed, and Merrill landed on Hawke's torso. Their mouths locked hungrily as their hands began to map every unknown detail of each other's bodies, throwing all hesitancy to the wind. Hawke flipped Merrill over onto her back deftly, and began to kiss Merrill's body. The elf gasped as the touches became more and more dispersed, interlocking into a web of ecstasy, their bodies now knotted together intricately.
"By the Dread Wolf!" she breathed "Who knew such power existed?"
(Break)
A contented silence lay over and around the two women, watching them as they lay in each other's arms; Hawke's arm resting under Merrill's waist comfortably as Merrill's arm fell over Hawke's neck, holding onto her head. It was an airy, breezy silence, a feeling of lightness and satisfaction. Merrill breathed in the feeling, letting it glide through and cleanse her senses, leaving them crisp and sharp. She didn't want it any other way; to miss a fraction of the sensations that offered themselves to her at this present moment would be tantamount to treason. The smell of Hawke's warm skin slightly coloured by the odour of excited sweat, the sound of her lover's now calming breaths, the sight of the bare, glowing skin which shifted and twitched against her arm. It was all the trivial details that Merrill did not wish to forsake in any way possible. It was the very ordinariness of it, the very notion that this very well could become commonplace that excited her the most. Being so at ease in such a circumstance was perhaps its greatest wonder. Conversely, this idea was also a great source of panic to Merrill. What if this was not something that was repeatable?
Merrill felt a great sense of resolve break through her calm; no more dithering, no repeat of earlier events in the night. She had to know what this meant and where this was going, or how could she enjoy the moment any longer? For this to be a one-time thing would be even more heart breaking than it never having happened in the first place. Merrill drew all her courage into a powerful ball, as if it was a thing of magic, and let it burst.
*"What happens now?" she blurted out, getting no immediate reaction she continued, "Are we…what did this mean?"
Hawke's free arm traced up and down Merrill's own, Merrill felt some comfort that this action had not immediately stopped at her question.
"Now we both decide what happens next" Hawke replied matter-of-factually.
Merrill turned to gauge Hawke's expression, but could not decipher anything particularly new. So this was it, this was normal now. There was a "we" factored into the equation, a pair of individuals seen as one thing. Merrill felt overwhelmed with things to say, but could not think of anything profound to explain or describe everything she wanted to,
"If you hadn't come to Sundermount that day…I can't imagine where I'd be now" she babbled slightly, not knowing entirely why she had said it. It felt almost as if another statement was hiding from sight, waiting underneath her more mundane ones to expose itself. Merrill felt it inside her as if she had swallowed a living creature alive, and it was fighting to free itself from her body.
After what seemed an infinite pause, she felt it break free, and find a new lease for life as it forced its way uncontrollably through her mouth,
"I love you!" she stated, boldly.
Merrill froze instantly; what had she done? Yes it was true, now she had said it she could not deny or avoid this fact, but why had she said it? She felt her familiar, nervous panic begin to set back in; she had to back track, it was too soon, too presumptuous, too overbearing to throw that at Hawke after one night! Everything ruined in three words!
"I probably shouldn't have said that should I? I always say the stupidest things…" she murmured dejectedly, feeling defeated and waiting for the backlash.
The silence took over again, as Hawke's hand continued to rub Merrill's arm. The wait was painful for the elf, yet some blind hope came from the absence of an instant rejection. Hawke was probably thinking of a kind way to put her down, Merrill thought, put her back in her place. She had been crazy to even think-
"I love you Merrill" Hawke replied, turning to face her and cutting off her paranoid thoughts, "Actually I was going to suggest you move in with me"
Merrill was so overcome with surprise and excitement, she sat up instantly, her whole body buzzing with the weight of the suggestion Hawke had just made to her. She stood at the base of the bed and looked at the room before her, Hawke's room….their room.
"Here? In Hightown?" Merrill turned back to Hawke to make sure she hadn't been making a joke, but saw the warrior lay watching her completely seriously, "The rich fancy part of the city with no rats in it? And you…" Merrill gazed at Hawke, the celebrated Hawke, and couldn't comprehend how or why the statement she was just about to say was ever even being considered, "with an elf?"
Hawke merely smiled in reply, looking at Merrill contentedly and waiting for her response.
"Ma vhenan…"Merrill spoke the words out loud, comfortable with saying the statement, still overcome with shock at how quickly the situation had evolved into something more marvellous than she could ever have dreamed of, "you really are crazy aren't you?". Merrill watched Hawke slide off the side of the bed and make to walk around to her. She knew what she was going to say to Hawke, there was no question of that. However, she knew, in the back of her mind that there was the unresolved issue of the Eluvian, sat back in her little alienage home. A flutter of worry passed over her face; she would never bring something so potentially dangerous into Hawke's home, but she could not give it up either. Scolding herself for almost ruining the moment, Merrill brushed the thought metaphorically under the carpet, and focussed on answering Hawke, who was now stood at her side. She turned to face the human,
"If you're not afraid then…" Hawke placed out a hand and drew Merrill closer as the elf spoke, "neither am I".* Merril smiled as she brought her hand up towards Hawke, finding Hawke's own and holding it as they kissed and embraced, holding on for dear life. She knew there would be things to be afraid of, and she was terrified of what she might be bringing Hawke into, and of the possibility she would never truly make it up to Hawke genuinely. But for the ephemeral present, there was just the two of them – the elf and the human, in their home.