The Dalish pariah was curled into a stolid huddle in a corner of her alienage house fingering the colorful mug shards around her. The interior was shattered from her previous rampage and she now smashed what was left. Samael's mug was crushed into the red dust, but even the dust was intolerable, so Merrill dispersed it all around. She felt empty, invincible, like nothing worse could happen to her. Misunderstood and pushed aside by the only person she cared for. And oh yes, she had noticed the way Fenris and Anders had been looking at their leader lately. The pain was even worse since she knew she had saved Samael's life, again, and only got prodding questions and mistrust instead of a simple expression of his gratitude. An expression of gratitude like… having a great sex. Merrill felt like she was standing at the edge of a chasm, knowing she had to jump, but also knowing her wings were clipped.

A sudden stabbing sensation in her underbelly let her know who was approaching the house. She had no intention of facing him right now while she was so broken, so unstable and so irritated.

By the Dread Wolf! Go away, Samael! He comes here to further show his gratitude for being alive, no doubt. And I have no staff! Too weak to use blood magic either…

Merrill cursed, crouching in the dark corner and wondering if there was a possibility that Samael would just walk away if she asked him to. Well, she still had Samael's knife and she was determined to defend herself if that ungrateful human dared lay a finger on her again. She would not be abused, not after what she had done for him.

The assassin crashed the dingy door open, not bothering to knock, and observed the wrecked interior of the wrecked house with a cold demeanor. His wrath and determination to learn the truth were radiating from him, but when he saw her skinny defiant face in the middle of the destruction, her tattered and probably only armor, his anger vaporized. The debris crunched under his boots as he strolled to the corner and sank down next to her, silent, not looking at her. But it was too late for a placid reconciliation. Merrill was pushed far beyond that point.

"Why are you here, HUMAN?"

H… What… Hu… Did she just call me a human? That's… new.

She had never called him anything other than Hawke or Samael. Her bitter and resentful voice squeezed his heart, but his pride refused to allow him to be the only villain here.

"I believe… you owe me a few answers… ELF." If she wanted it this way, he would happily oblige her. He didn't realize he had just shoved her over the chasm's edge.

Merrill jumped up, no longer able to keep her anger and sorrow quiet. Her soul had been screaming in pain and fear for hours now. She snapped at the assassin, welcoming this opportunity to let out the anguish she felt. "You know what? GO AHEAD! I don't care, go ahead, blame me, threaten me, hit me, kick me, ignore me! I do not care! You all call me a monster anyway! I hunted you down, trying to make you see how I felt about you, endured your insults, your moods, saved your shemlen ass twice, only to be questioned all the time! I'm SICK of it! You know what? You don't deserve me!"

Samael jumped up as well and his temper blew. He had no idea the ghastly shape the pariah was in or why. He didn't yell at her, oh no, but his low menacing growl was much worse than that.

"Save this drama for someone who cares, Merrill! I came here for the answers and you are going to give them to me! So what did you do? ANSWER ME!"

"ARGH! Attention everyone! Samael wants something! Samael needs something!" She threw her arms in the air and laughed mirthlessly at the top of her voice.

Oh yes, Merrill was losing it. Skittering around the room, kicking the shards, punching the walls, cursing, crying, hitting herself when she wanted to underline her words. Samael was completely taken aback by her violent effusion and he was now standing in the middle of the room, his head hanging and arms loose alongside his body.

"Here! TAKE IT!" Half-mad, Merrill put the knife in the assassin's hand, raising it across her own throat so viciously she would have slashed it if Samael hadn't stopped her.

"Take it! DO IT! Just one more cut, brave assassin! You do it all the time, murdering mages, blood mages, Templars, whatever moves, so come on, shemlen! Coward! Why didn't you do it today in bed after I fulfilled my purpose and saved your worthless life? Were you afraid, Bodahn wouldn't be able to clean the blood stains off your precious duvet? So here, just finish it already! Am I that different from the other blood mages you've killed? Now I even have the red eyes, LUCKY ME! I'm a blood mage, Samael, an elven blood mage and you know what? I'm proud of it! It's devouring me, corrupting me, I no longer recognize myself, but I'M PROUD OF IT!"

Standing there in awe, Samael had no clue what was happening. Her screeching was cutting through him like a machete. He just managed to whisper, "Stop it… Merrill. Stop it. You're killing me… Maker, you're killing me…"

"You've killed me a hundred times, Samael Hawke! I HATE YOU! Creators, I hate you! Throw that knife of yours, but make sure you pierce my heart, or I swear I will kill you myself!"

Provoked by her insults and insane screaming, Samael gripped the knife tight, feeling his own awakened demons plaguing his mind. He let out a savage roar and… threw the knife.

"See? I CAN'T! I'm not able to harm you, let alone kill you! Maker knows how many times I've tried to do it! To get rid of you, get rid of this weakness I have because of you! You are everything I've been taught not to do! BUT… I… SIMPLY… CAN'T! You will be the death of me!" The room was still resounding with Samael's mighty shouts as he stumbled backwards and hit the wall, his hands raking through his long hair in despair.

The sobbing pariah observed the knife stuck in the wall, right next to her head, and collapsed. Only her incoherent feverish ramble resonated in the small room now. "I'm… an elf… I'm… Merrill… I'm not… a monster… I don't… I won't… Who am I… I'm Merrill… Dalish… blood mage… I can't… please…"

Her heartbreaking wails crushed him. And with that Samael started to understand that he wasn't Merrill's only problem, by far. Stalking to her, he dropped down next to her and gathered her in his arms. She struggled, but he held her tight until she gave in, clasping his jerkin, clinging to him like a frightened fledgling seeking safety. Her words died away, but they remained entwined. The silence was interrupted only by her soft dissipating sobs.

Creators, don't let him leave me, please, make him stay, make him stay with me, I need him, I'm not a monster, I can't be alone again, Creators, don't let him leave me…

It was like Samael had heard her whirling thoughts, since his quiet voice was echoing her prayers.

"I'm here, my little pariah… I'm not going anywhere… I'm right here…"

oOo

It was dark when Samael stood up and pulled Merrill to her unsteady feet. He could see she desperately wanted to be alone now and he wasn't sure if he would ever see her again, not after what she had said. He was upset as well, but he would have preferred to take her with him to his mansion, not leave her here in these ruins. On the other hand, he wasn't sure he still had the right to ask anything of her, anything at all. His voice was quavering when he spoke and he hated himself for that. "I… I will be waiting for you at my estate. If you don't come I will understand and respect your wishes. You won't ever see me again."

Samael felt like saying a hundred other things, but he just couldn't. Merrill's head was hanging and she obviously wasn't even able to look at him.

There was deafening silence. Samael longed to touch her, to hear a single word from her, but when she found her voice again, he wished she would have stayed silent forever.

"Leave me, Hawke."

After a while, when had she mustered the courage to look up, smearing the tears on her face, she realized the assassin was already gone and that the shabby door of her house was yawning at her in her solitude.

oOo

"Quenya, somebody's coming!" The Dalish elves jumped up and clasped the hilts of their sheathed swords.

"State your business, stranger!" The eldest elf stepped forward and his eyes narrowed as the cloaked figure pulled back the hood, revealing blazing dark amber eyes, black tattoos and long, black hair, reflecting dimly in the moonlight. The elf spotted another silhouette at the tree line. A huge bristling mabari dog was approaching slowly with a dark snarl, daring them to draw a sword.

"Shemlens have no business here, stranger. Go away and we might forget you've wandered here… this time." The eldest elf intended to shove the intruder away to make his statement clear, but something in the stranger's eyes made him snatch the hand back and he fell silent.

"Shut your mouth, elf. I came here to speak with Marethari, not to play hide-and-seek with her minions. Tell her Hawke is asking her for an audience." Samael knew he had to stay calm and behave if he wanted to reach the Keeper. His name worked though, and soon enough Quenya was leading him through the camp to the largest fire where the Keeper and hunters sat.

"Leave us," the Keeper's kind voice addressed the other elves, who mutely followed her order. Samael noticed that they were beaten up, scarred, limping, and heard them whispering to each other something aboutAsha'bellanar, shemlens and Kirkwall behind his back. He was grateful for the fire, since the autumn air was crisp and he only had a light cloak.

Marethari came to Charon and to the rogue's surprise the mabari whined softly, poked her with his muzzle and lowered his head. The Keeper bowed back, not touching the beast.

"Andaran atish'an, Hawke. I didn't see you coming, but you are always welcome among the Dalish." Marethari's bright, liquid eyes pierced him and Samael felt like she had learnt everything about him with that one brief glance.

"Keeper… I… I came to ask you about Merrill." Samael's uneasy voice cracked and he gazed into the flames, wondering what he was doing here.

There was silence, only interrupted by the droning fire. Samael dared not speak nor look at Marethari and Marethari was studying him for a long time before she answered.

"I see. So it's you, Hawke." Marethari fell silent again, like this short statement was the whole answer Samael had come for. When she saw his arched eyebrow, she continued. "She came here because of you. I can feel fading traces of Merrill's magic within you. You were the reason why she came here, attacked the guards when they refused to let her pass, and asked me for an antidote to save you."

Again, Marethari's inquisitive glare caught him, and he was only able to nod and lower his head, nothing more. Ashamed, Samael didn't see Marethari's ancient face melt. He only looked up when she stood right in front of him, taking his cold hands into hers.

"You are deeply troubled, child. Your past haunts you and your future scares you. It's time for you to acknowledge that not everything is in your hands." Marethari's quiet voice was echoing in his head as he felt his hair waving in the mildly chilling breeze.

A brown dead leaf fell into Samael's open palm and Marethari closed it with both of her pale hands. "Sometimes you have to let one part of your soul die," Marethari touched his chest with her vellum-like fingers, "so a new part can be born." Marethari opened his palm and a blue butterfly was sitting there, waving its fragile wings.

Astonished, Samael stared in rapture at the beautiful tiny creature until it flew away. Marethari stepped back, watching him, and Samael whispered, when their eyes met, "Please, tell me. Tell me about Merrill."

Marethari smiled. "What do you want to know, Hawke?"

"Everything," Samael breathed out.

oOo

It had been a whole day since he had left Merrill in her devastated house. It was evening again and Samael paced around the estate for a while, then tried to read, but threw the book away after twenty seconds, unable to focus. He wanted to relieve his tension with physical activity and pulled out a new beautifully crafted pair of daggers, bought from a Fereldan merchant.

Stripping his under tunic, he took a basic fighting pose, balancing the blades in his hands. Satisfied with the result, he started slowly working through the stance positions, the blades singing, cutting through the air. Samael's moves were becoming progressively faster and faster, until he was whirling around, moving smoothly from position to position, dodging the imaginary attacker with somersaults, jumps and cartwheels. He stopped abruptly, panting, cursing, then jabbed both weapons into the nearest wooden door.

Face it, you idiot, she won't come. Your childish waiting is pointless. What happened at the Gallows…it should have never happened. Your whole plan was insane, you are insane. And only the Maker knows what exactly happened afterwards… what triggered Merrill's outburst last night. Marethari told me about the part at Sundermount,, so it obviously wasn't only about her short imprisonment and me being an ass after I woke up… she mentioned blood magic too. What was Aveline saying, damn it? Something about a kidnap, a knife attack and threats…Everything done for me and I drove her away. I've killed the purest thing I've ever had in my life. I so don't deserve her. She is right. How could I have thought for a minute that beautiful creature was mine? I'm the monster here…unworthy of someone like her. She won't come. I'm alone.

Samael shook his head and massaged his temples with the fingers.

He hadn't realized where he was going until he ended up standing in front of a dresser in his bedroom. With a resigned sigh he pulled out a small silver knife, not able to resist the temptation to end this pain he felt in his soul. He would be alone again. During his whole life he was attached to… well… nothing. And now she was in his life, and he had pushed her away like a stray cat… stray… cat… alone…

As he cut into the first scar, Samael hissed and slowly tilted his head back, finishing the precise cut. His frantic breathing refused to slow down. That frightened him. What had happened to his only tool to control the howling ghosts in his head? Maybe it just… wasn't enough?

Cutting into the second scar, Samael had to hold the knife with both his trembling hands to manage to slash the right line. A choked moan came out of his lips and he fell on the bed, staring at the ceiling in anticipation of the alleviation of suffering he craved. Nothing. Maybe he wasn't cutting deep enough then…?

Third scar. Arching his back, Samael howled and the pulsing pain clouded his mind, finally eliminating Merrill's face. His breathing deepened and slowed as he drifted off.

oOo

Creators! So was this going to happen every time she let Samael out of her sight?

Merrill was standing above her lover's dreaming body, observing the extensive blood stains on the blanket and the knife still loosely held in his palm. After his departure she had sat in her darkened house for three hours, letting the mute tears speak of her plight. Then she wandered through the woods outside of Kirkwall considering her situation, but she ended up thinking about Samael. She always ended up thinking about Samael. There was no point in pretending she could leave him, because she didn't want to and even if she wanted to, she wouldn't be able to do it. She still felt the angst and doubt torturing her mind, but her outburst helped her vent her emotions and in the evening she found herself standing near the Hawke estate. She had no idea what she would tell him or if she would be welcomed there, but she didn't care.

And there he was, sleeping, his face looking peaceful, although the blood smeared on his torso and on the sheets was disturbing. Merrill traced his tattoos with a cold finger and smiled when he stirred and sighed. It took ten seconds for Samael to fully realize she was there right next to him, touching his lips softly with a breeze-like kiss, hesitating, waiting for any response from him. Samael returned the tender kiss, placing a shy arm around her waist, waiting to see if Merrill would allow it. When she moaned and stroked his bare chest, Samael let his other hand trace her figure before he wrapped his palm around her swan neck in a possessive gesture.

Not a word between them when they climbed out of bed, avoiding eye contact.

Not a word between them as Samael prepared a bath for her, meticulously washing her himself.

Not a word between them as he bandaged her wrist wounds from Sundermount and examined the fresh shallow nick on her throat that she had done to herself.

Samael was still dead curious about what had happened and why he was alive, but Merrill's breakdown forced him to sort his priorities out, and Merrill made it on the top of the list. The rogue remained silent, carrying her to the bedroom and laying her down on the bed with an odd gentleness Merrill had never experienced from him before. He was determined to leave the room and sleep elsewhere, not to pressure her about anything tonight. When he was snuggling her into the clean warm blanket, Merrill caught his arm. Samael arched an eyebrow, glancing at his trapped limb.

"Samael…?" Her voice was barely audible.

"Yes?" Anxious about what she had in mind, Samael let his head hang and his hair conveniently hid his face which was full of the fear that she would just send him away again. Perhaps forever.

"Could we… talk?" Merrill squirmed and set her desirous eyes on his face.

"Bed-time stories?" Samael's eyes met hers, his head cocked in anticipation. Merrill glimpsed an insecure smile curling a corner of his mouth.

"Better," she breathed out.

"Talk then. I'm listening." Samael lay down next to her with one arm folded under his head, slipping under the blanket. He wasn't sure if she wished him to touch her, but to his relief Merrill shifted and nestled her head on his shoulder, wrapping his free arm around her. He allowed himself to believe she hadn't rejected him entirely and that he wasn't as doomed as he had thought.

And Merrill talked. Not skipping any part of her story, sharing her thoughts and the darkest fears. Samael was a good listener; although parts of the story were so disturbing he was tugging at blanket and chewing on his cheek. When she had finished her narration, Samael was speechless and thoughtful.

She… It can't be. She really set off to the Dalish for an antidote to cure the incurable, to do the unthinkable. She couldn't know if I was still alive, but she went anyway in blind faith. Then…a social call with Aveline. Judging by the Captain's description, Merrill was completely out of her mind by then, but she managed to get me into my mansion anyway…The antidote worked, I woke up, only to scold her, threaten her… To lose her. I should have died. Fenris was right; what's dead should stay dead.

Merrill needed him to speak, to evaluate her deeds, to sooth her, to yell at her. Anything but silence. She couldn't stand it anymore and blurted out, "Elgar'Nan! Say something! Please, just say anything!"

Samael gulped down his restlessness and shame and tried to give shape to his thoughts.

"What do you want me to say, Merrill? That I'm grateful for your saving me? Yes, Maker, yes, I am. That you shouldn't have attacked your clan? You probably shouldn't have. That you upset me with that little torturing stunt with Quentin? Fuck, you did. That you've made an obstinate enemy in Aveline? Maker knows you have. That I'm so proud of you, that you took a stand against your clan? So happy… I'm that important to you. That you've been through all this and you're still here? Because I am. You were right, I don't deserve you, but I will count with my charms to keep you by my side no matter what. I… should have begged for your forgiveness a long time ago, but I shall ask you for it now."

Samael forced her to look at him; she was still trying to hide her red eyes.

"Forgive me. Please, forgive me. I know what I've done. I know I've hurt you countless times. Let me rectify it, let me take care of you. You've taught me to dream, and that's all I could have ever dreamed of."

A single silent tear of felicity and relief was wandering down Merrill's face as she kissed him in reply, slowly, savoring his closeness, his scent that she had missed so much. Mixed emotions were whirling in her head: Samael's sincere apology that she craved to hear, the last of Aveline's words, Marethari's warning, her clan, calling her a monster…

Samael felt her disconnection and anxiety and broke the kiss, searching her face for a signal to stop, to leave her alone. Merrill wiped out his mute question with a desperate kiss, groaning his name. He tilted her head back and brushed his lips across her throat, licking the nick tenderly. Their clothes was soon scattered around and Merrill pushed her lover into the armchair, straddling him and connecting their bodies with one violent move. Samael gasped in pleasure and watched Merrill in amazement as she went limp right after she felt him inside of her. Something in Samael's head clicked and he felt complete again. They had no idea how long they sat there like that, tasting each other, Merrill slowly rocking and moaning as he explored her curves and blind alleys again and again.

Merrill opened her eyes and Samael let himself drown in their crimson depths, until Merrill breathed out, "Who am I?"

Confused, again scanning her martyred face, Samael whispered to her, "Merrill. You are Merrill of the Dalish."

Merrill closed her eyes, nodded, then shook her head and silver tears made their way down her cheeks. Samael kissed them away, not knowing what he was supposed to say. How to sooth a person who didn't wish to be soothed, but instead wished to be punished for her deeds?

"Who am I?" Merrill was sobbing as she again ensnared his gaze, but she was unwilling to stop their unusual lovemaking. Her moves were speeding up and the distraction didn't help Samael to think of a proper reply.

"Listen to me, silly witch! You're no monster… no monster, Merrill. Calm yourself… please, don't cry, little pariah…" Samael encircled her in his arms, stroking her back, but she pulled back, searching his face with despair like the answer was written there, when she cried out,

"WHO AM I?"

"You are Merrill Raena Estelwen, an elven child found in the Brecilian Forest, wrapped in a blanket carrying that name. Raised by the Keeper Marethari to take her place when the time comes. Merrill, who was banished from her clan for her beliefs and for blood magic. Merrill, who came into Kirkwall, making living, hiding herself from the Templars in the alienage. Merrill who ripped me twice from the jaws of Death. Merrill, whom I swore to love and protect no matter what… Look at me! It's still you, Merrill, even behind those red eyes. I still see you."

And she believed him. Snaking her arms behind him, she let him lift them both and stumbled to the bed. Samael lay her down and stared into her eyes as he entered her, whispering, "Look at me. Stay with me. Just… Stay."

oOo

The dawn was near, they were entwined together, too happy, too exhausted to sleep. No position seemed to be close enough for them. Merrill was drawing small circles with her finger on Samael's palm, amused by his ticklishness. A fearless warrior beatened down by… tickling.

Samael was ruminating about his life once more and his gaze slipped to a blue vase filled with beautiful flowers. Who put that crap on his dresser anyway? Must have been his… Merrill. Samael smiled and kissed her hair.

"You are staying here," Samael whispered suddenly. It wasn't a question and it wasn't an order either. It was just an accceptance of the fact.

Merrill's eyes lit up, meeting his eyes to persuade herself he really meant it. He grinned as he brushed her lips with a finger.

"Stop ogling me, green-eyed witch."

Merrill squeaked and ran, naked, for the mirror. Yes, her eyes were green again, with stars sparkling in them. Samael admired her figure for a while, then closed his eyes and yawned. Oh yes, this witch had him wrapped around her bony finger, and it felt like the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

END