Merrill wished the men would hurry up.

She could see them straining beneath their burden, and she twinged with guilt every time they groaned or cursed. But still… she wanted to get inside.

She was lucky that the alienage was so quiet this morning.

A faint wind stirred the highest leaves of the vhenadahl, but other than that there was almost no movement in the plaza. The mirror was wrapped in thick canvas. It shouldn't have draw much attention on its own, but she knew that fewer eyes watching was always a blessing.

Still, the quiet unnerved her. It made the men's movements seem louder, and their mission all the more clandestine.

The sound of old wood snagging on the uneven stones of the courtyard snapped Merrill to attention.

"Careful!" she trilled, whirling to face the men. "Oh, please be careful! That's very fragile!"

"Give it a rest, Merrill!" The larger of the two snapped. "We're lifting it best we can."

"Yeah," the second agreed. "This thing weighs more than an oxman. You should've hired two of them!"

Not a chance. These two elves didn't know what it was they carried, and the mirror's aura didn't seem to bother them too badly. Qunari would have sensed the magic and been suspicious. More likely than not, none of them would've been wiling to touch it, much less unload it from the Ferelden ships and lug it all the way to her hovel at the back end of Kirkwall.

"I know you're doing your best," she said slowly, "but if you could maybe just not drop it."

One of the men spat beside his shoe, and heaved the massive package upwards and forwards, dragging the wood frame along in a way that seemed intentional.

Merrill began to protest again, but then bit her tongue. It couldn't get that much more broken, she supposed.

…

The two men barreled in without pause when she finally opened the door to her tiny shack. She followed quickly, wondering where they'd gained this newfound energy.

"I was thinking it could go over here," she told them, pointing to a corner near the book-laden table at the center of her main room.

Neither of the men responded, and she glanced around, realizing they were already pushing their way into the small room off the side that served as her sleeping area. "Wait!" she cried.

Ignoring her, the elves dumped the load unceremoniously next to her bed. The room was tiny and, with the addition of the massive wrapped parcel, could hardly fit the three of them standing. Merrill rang her hands together, wondering if she should say something. The two helpers were already straightening, and unrolling their shoulders. The big one looked a little smug.

She chewed the inside of her cheek and surveyed the scene one more time. The top of the mirror stood upright against the wall, and it wasn't so close to the bed that she would be bothered. "I guess that's fine," she said with a sigh.

"Payment?" was the brute's response. He held out a hand.

Right. Merrill nodded, and carefully withdrew the two promised sovereigns from the pouch at her waist.

That was that then, she thought as she handed the gold pieces over. The majority of the money Hawke had left her was now gone. She'd have to start looking for jobs on her own if Bartrand's expedition stayed too much longer underground.

She tried to put on a bright smile. "Thank you so much for your help," she began. "I could never have done that… alone?"

The men edged around her, not acknowledging her gratitude, or meeting her eyes.

"Yeah, whatever," one of them mumbled from the living room.

The other added, "Crazy witch," before the front door could slam behind them.

Merrill's smile fell. Tears prickled for a moment behind her eyes before she set her jaw and shook them away. None of that now, she thought. What those silly city elves thought of her was unimportant. She had larger concerns than the size of their shallow minds.

"They must have other places they need to be," she said aloud, nodding firmly. Satisfied with this explanation, she returned her attention to the package they'd delivered for her. The giant bundle stood so tall that it brushed the ceiling of the compact room. The canvas looked a little jostled from the trip across the Waking Sea, but she wouldn't be able to tell if any significant damage had been done until she removed the covering.

Almost reverent, she pulled a small blade from her belt and set to cutting the rope that held the parcel bound. She let the bindings fall around her feet. She'd clean them up later.

She tucked the knife away again and began to carefully pull the canvas from the object underneath. Despite the heaviness of the fabric, it slipped from the mirror almost like a sheet, and Merrill felt a tingle thrill up her spine.

Of course the Eluvian wouldn't want to be covered. It was a silly thought—the mirror had no mind of it's own—but she acknowledged it, feeling playful. The mirror had traveled wonderfully.

The large crack that ran through the middle of the black glass had been there since the incident in the Brecilian woods. Merrill was relieved to note that it had not deepened or fractured further during the voyage. And, despite her delivery men's carelessness, the mirror's frame looked no worse for wear either.

Oblivious to the world, Merrill trailed her fingertips along the ancient carvings along the mirror's edge. Oh, what she would give to know what the hieroglyphs meant!

"Interesting taste," said a languid voice behind her.

Merrill jumped, spinning to face the intruder while attempting to shield the massive mirror from view. Her thin arms aided her efforts in no way.

"Isabela!" she choked. "I didn't hear you come in!"

The pirate was lounging against the doorframe. She smirked at Merrill's obvious discomfort and her attempts to be discreet, crossing her arms beneath her ample chest. Merrill gulped.

"You left your door unlocked, kitten." Isabela teased. "Just about anyone could've walked in off the street."

Merrill deflated. "Oh."

Isabela straightened, strolling further into the room, her amber eyes fixed on the Eluvian. Merrill wondered if there was anything she could say to avoid what was certain to turn into a stream of awkward questions.

"Is this a mirror then?" the pirate asked her. She stopped to stand by Merrill's shoulder, twisting her body back and forth as she attempted to see her form.

"It's not a very good mirror, is it?" Isabela grumbled. "Why can't I see myself?"

Without knowing it, Isabela had stumbled on the crux of Merrill's own problem. The pirate's observation was right: the black glass showed no reflection whatsoever. Only a foreboding sort of mist if you stared at it too long. Merrill didn't want Isabela to do that.

She cleared her throat. "Well, it's not a mirror, exactly," she tried to explain. "I mean, it is kind of, but it's broken. I—"

Isabela waved a hand, bored. "A broken mirror hardly seems worth keeping."

Merrill frowned, and Isabela must have seen it because she added, "But I guess if it's special to you."

"Well, it is…" Merrill mumbled. "You see—"

"Why don't we go get ourselves a drink?" Isabela said, interrupting her again. Leave it to Isabela to see something strange and suspicious, and not care at all. Merrill found herself being pulled under one of the pirate's tanned arms, all ready to be led away.

"Wait? What?" she stammered, pulling back. "Isabela, the sun just rose!"

One of Isabela's eyebrows twitched. "And?"

"A-and…" Merrill stammered, "I'm hardly the company you usually seek out for this sort of thing."

Isabela's eyes dropped to the ground, and Merrill wondered if she'd said something rude. The pirate was so open about her affairs that sometimes it was hard to tell what might cross a line.

Then Isabela sighed heavily, her head lolling to the side. "Things are so boring around here without Hawke," she said. "I'm tired of drinking with pigs."

She looked Merrill dead in the eyes, and her lips curved into a dangerous smirk. "A woman needs a man to shiver her timbers, you understand?" she said with a wink.

Merrill felt her face go hot. "I-I don't," she stammered, "Um…"

Before Isabela could go further there was a knock at the door in the front room. Merrill was so relieved she could have fainted on the spot.

"Hello!" she cried. "Come in!"

"Merrill?" called a familiar voice.

Aveline!

Merrill slipped past Isabela into the main area of the shack, unable to contain her happiness at the chance interruption. The guard captain greeted her smile with a grimace. "You shouldn't leave you're door open, Merrill. It's dangerous—oh."

Aveline's eyes had locked on something over her shoulder, and Merrill turned to see that Isabela had followed her out of the bedroom.

"You're here," Aveline muttered. Her voice sounded tight.

Isabela frowned at the reaction. "If it bothers you, feel free to leave."

"I suppose it saves me the effort of having to track you down," Aveline said softly. She didn't seem to have heard the pirate's chastising remark. Merrill looked closer at the redhead and realized that her friend's face looked drained. She seemed ill, or distracted. Something was definitely off.

"Aveline…" Merrill asked, suddenly timid. "Is something wrong?"

The guard captain's green eyes lighted on Merrill's face, and the elf knew she'd been right to ask.

"Hawke's party has returned from the Deep Roads," Aveline told them.

Isabela cheered. "What?! That's excellent news!"

It was, and Merrill understood the excitement Isabela showed. She did not understand why Aveline's expression had stayed so dark, nor why she grabbed the pirate's arm as she tried to head outdoors.

"Wait, Isabella," Aveline said. "I don't think you should go,"

Isabela's lip curled in disgust, and she tried to tear her arm free. The other woman held it firm.

"I don't happen to care what you think," Isabela hissed, not ceasing her fight. "Get your hands off me."

"Just listen for once!" Aveline snapped.

"Has something bad happened?" Merrill cut in. She could hardly bear to think it, but there was no other reason for Aveline to be so upset. The battle-hardened woman was usually so stoic and composed. It was frightening to imagine what could have rattled her.

Isabela grew still, and Aveline let her arm fall. "It's Carver," the guard captain said. Her voice had that tight tone to it again. Merrill realized with no small bit of shock that the redhead was actually on the verge of tears. "He didn't come back with them."

The pit of Merrill's stomach dropped. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Why?"

Aveline put a hand over her eyes. "Varric says Bartrand betrayed them. That's why they were gone so much longer than we expected. Bartrand left them all trapped underground to die."

Merrill's heartbeat was rapidly rising. "What?"

"Carver was exposed to the Darkspawn taint while they were searching for another way to get to the surface," Aveline continued, her voice breaking. "Just like Wesley…. I guess there was a terrible fight, and he must have touched them, or their blood… I don't know."

"Get to the point!" Isabela snapped. Merrill heard the tremor in her friend's words. They were all scared.

"Varric said that Anders tried to lead them to a Grey Warden outpost. Apparently he sensed a camp not far out of the way, and he thought the Wardens might have a way to save Carver, but… they didn't make it in time."

Merrill gasped. "H-how terrible! First Bethany, and now this… How is Hawke?"

"Not well," Aveline groaned. She opened her eyes again and prepared to say something more, but Isabela pushed past her, darting out into the street.

"No, Isabela!" Aveline cried after her. "Wait!"

But the pirate did not stop, and was already halfway up the steps to Kirkwell proper before they could follow. Aveline sighed heavily, massaging her temples. "Stubborn whore…."

Merrill gingerly laid a hand on the guard captain's arm. "Maybe it's for the best," she said. "Out of all of us, she'll probably be the most able to put Hawke back into sorts."

Aveline shook her head. "I don't think so. Not this time."

"What do you mean?" Merrill asked, confused.

Aveline looked back towards the steps where Isabela had disappeared. Her expression was so melancholy that Merrill thought her heart might break. She clasped her hands to her chest, feeling useless.

"I mean that Hawke is not the same person who went into the Deep Roads," the guard captain told her. "Hawke's changed."