A/N: When plans go awry. I had such a writing frenzy today and totally changed my finish, so this is the final chapter of the story. My original intention was to include the events on Sundermount of Act 3, but then decided the two of them suffered long enough to end by the end of Act 2. I hope it nicely wraps it up. Special thanks again to Heath Wingwhit for being so kind to proof for me first.

Fall, 8433 after the founding of Arlathan

I have seen many ghastly things since I came to Kirkwall, but never anything quite as gruesome and savage as tonight. Now I understand why everyone is so afraid of my blood magic, because so far all the mages that I have seen use it, have completely succumbed to corruption and power.

Watching that...that creation totter towards us, the rough stitches connecting Leandra Hawke's beautiful face to the torso, it is too much to think about. I have never killed with such fury before. But now, what's left now? His death won't bring her back. It won't erase the horror of her dying.

I ached for her when Hawke held that body, looked down at her mother's face for the last time. Both of them broken, in their own way. What I would do to reverse it.

I must be there for Hawke now. She will be too proud to admit that she needs help. But I will be there for her, like I know she would always be there for me if I needed her.

Merrill quietly padded upstairs, the fall of her feet softened by the thick rug on the steps of the Hawke mansion. Bodahn had let the elf inside, wringing his hands, his dwarven face full of worry and concern. "Messere Hawke is upstairs in her bedroom and asked to be left alone." He leaned towards Merrill, looking up at her beseechingly. "She shouldn't be alone tonight, I think. Poor Mistress Leandra. She was so good to me and my boy." His eyes shimmered with tears, and he tugged at his beard, all distraught. He didn't stop Merrill from going upstairs.

The elf didn't really know her way around here. Once or twice a week she came by to tend the garden of the estate, enjoying her time outside in it, but she had only been upstairs once, in one of the sitting rooms, for a family dinner. It was a completely different world, compared to Lowtown. It was so quiet. Lights were dimmed, only a few candles in their holders alight. Merrill looked up at the chandelier, lips curving into a smile. How much fun it would be to swing on this.

She moved straight into the first room she found, the door to it open. Merrill closed it behind her when she saw Hawke. She was seated upon the large four poster bed with its canopy, looking small and forlorn. She stared at the ground.

"Emma ir abelas, ma vhenan." Merrill slid over to where Hawke was seated and took a seat next to her. The other woman didn't look up, but her fingers laced with Merrill's when the elf took her hand. She held on tightly.

"I don't speak elvhen, Merrill." Hawke turned her head to look at the elf, her remark snide, and cutting. Merrill deflected it easily enough, smiling sadly.

"It means that I am filled with sorrow, Hawke, for your loss. Your mother was such a good woman." Hawke's fingers curled, squeezing, as she listened. "We have to believe she's in a better place now, Hawke. She loved you. We shall honor her."

Hawke took a shaking breath, unsteady and lost. She was still looking at Merrill, and for a moment her lips curled into that sarcastic smile that she used all the time when she was dealing with the world. The smile she gave to viscounts, arishoks, grand clerics and beggars alike. The shell, her armor, protecting her better than any boiled leather would do.

Before she could put on that brave face, Merrill touched Hawke's lips, tracing the contours with her long fingers. It was heartbreaking to see the transformation, from haughty, petulant Hawke to broken woman who had just lost her mother in the most gruesome fashion. Her face crumpled, and her eyes were suddenly brimming with tears, tears that spilled onto her cheeks. She fell against Merrill, shoulders heaving with sobs that she seemingly held in all day.

Merrill pulled Hawke's head into her lap, caressing her face, smoothing her hair. Her fingers tirelessly caressed her, stroking the scalp, the lines of her face, the curve of her ears. The elf let her cry, soothingly speaking in elvhen. Hawke didn't know what it meant, but it seemed to soothe her, hearing the lilting words "Ma sa'lath, Hawke. I am here for you." Eventually the tears subsided, and she took deep breaths, holding on to Merrill, with her arms around the elf's waist.

Sitting up, Hawke never let go of Merrill, looking at her with entreating eyes. "Merrill, don't go. Please stay with me tonight. Will you please?" She leaned her head on Merrill's shoulder. "I don't know if I will be able to sleep tonight."

Merrill stroked Hawke's back then nodded. "Yes, of course I will. Whatever you need me to do, I will be here for you." She rose, then went down on her knees, starting to unlace Hawke's boots. Once that was done, she pulled the taller woman to her feet and slowly started removing her clothing. She pulled back the sheets and urged Hawke to lie down, then quickly followed suit once her own clothing was removed. Their bodies entwined, Hawke resting her head on Merrill's collarbone, nuzzling her gently.

Merrill simply held Hawke, softly murmuring to her, and soon Hawke's breathing slowed and deepened, sleep taking over. Outside, rain drummed against the window of the bedroom, driven against it by heavy wind. There were no leaks here, and it was toasty warm, the light from the fireplace the only illumination. No wonder she never stayed with me overnight, Merrill lazily mused, enjoying the feel of Hawke in her arms.

She was still awake when Hawke stirred, her body twitching violently. Hawke gasped and clung to Merrill, only relaxing when the elf reassured her that she was not alone. The Fereldan gradually relaxed, then rolled on top of Merrill, starting to shower her face with kisses, like rain in spring. She held the elf's shoulders, holding on tight when their lips met and parted.

It had been almost a year since they had last been intimate.

Hawke kissed Merrill desperately, in one of her frenzies that were so overpowering. Her hands slid lower, fast and furious, as she'd done so many times, but the elf broke the kiss, wriggling out of Hawke's grasp. In the light of the fireplace, she could see Hawke's eyes, full of hurt at this rejection.

"Hawke. Not like this. Let me..." Love you. "Let me be there for you." Merrill gently but firmly pushed Hawke down, then moved above her, touching her slowly and deliberately. Hawke was tensed, straining, looking up at Merrill, reaching up to touch the elf's hair. She slowly relaxed, the breath she had held in slowly escaping. It was then that Merrill finally kissed Hawke's lips again, with sweetness instead of furor, with tenderness instead of desperation.

It was the slowest lovemaking they had ever experienced, and when Hawke cried out her name, which she was usually not wont to do, Merrill closed her own eyes, holding in the memory of this moment, capturing it. She held Hawke all through it, riding the waves, until she finally relaxed.

The elf was so sure that Hawke had fallen asleep, but she suddenly felt her stir again, whispering in her ear. "I love you, Merrill." Her breathing turned regular again, and sleep took her.

Merrill lay in the darkness, smiling up at the canopy of the bed. What a lovely pattern it had. How plush the pillows felt, how soft the sheets were. How warm and real Hawke felt against her. She had said the words Merrill had longed to hear. Too bad they were spoken when grief ruled supreme.

When dawn started to touch the sky outside the bedroom window, kissing the grey sky, Merrill carefully disentangled herself from Hawke and then dressed quietly in the dark. The fire had burned down overnight, and so all that was visible on the bed, was Hawke's shape under the covers, in grayness. Hawke didn't stir, deeply asleep. Merrill wrapped her scarf around her neck, and lingered for a moment. "I love you too, Hawke." She quietly slipped outside, her feet padding as quietly on the rugs as they did when she first arrived.

Merrill stood with her back pressed against the cold marble of the Viscount's Keep, a chill driven through her, despite it being the height of summer. She pressed her hands against her mouth to stifle a scream. Isabela stood next to her, cringing. Merrill had never seen the pirate so shaken. But shaken she was, watching Hawke fight the incredibly tall and muscled form of the Arishok, dueling to fight for Isabela's life. Merrill slipped a hand through Isabela's arm, and they stood together, both waiting and worrying. Isabela held her hand tightly, betraying her fear.

Countless gashes were visible where the Arishok's sword had cut through Hawke's leather armor. All that the woman had was her speed and her knowledge of where exactly to strike for maximum damage. The Arishok charged her again, but Hawke was faster, driving her daggers into the Arishok's back, then wheeling around to drive them into him once more, like the twin fangs of a serpent. He bled from deep, gaping wounds, tiring him. Enraged, he grabbed Hawke, impaling her on his sword, driving it through her shoulder, lifting her up.

Merrill burst into tears. They had fought together so much, but in all those years, she had never seen Hawke suffer like this. I will kill you, Arishok. If you take her, my blood magic will rend you apart. I will see to it, by the Creators.

But that wasn't necessary. Hawke slid to the ground, stumbling, bleeding heavily from her shoulder. The Arishok clearly saw himself as the victor, raising his arms in triumph, yelling about the Qun and the weakness of the Basra Vashedan. He raised his arms, and Hawke jumped him, driving her daggers into his guts. As his entrails spilled forth, he went to his knees, groaning, threatening the Qunari's return even as he took his last breaths.

Around them, cheering began, as the other Qunari wordlessly departed. Merrill didn't cheer, her heart wasn't lightened. The object of everyone's cheers was down on one knee, bleeding. When Knight-Commander Meredith made her way into the throne chamber, Hawke awkwardly rose, snidely smiling at the cool templar. "And here I thought you would never join us. Kirkwall is free."

It was only after Meredith had left, after pronouncing Hawke 'Champion of Kirkwall', that the new champion's resources finally gave in. She floundered, weak from loss of blood. As she sank to the floor, her eyes sought the Dalish. "Merrill." The elf cradled her against herself, screaming for help. She was looking for me.

Anders finished re-dressing the bandages around Hawke's shoulder. It would take some time for this to knit properly, despite his infusion of healing magic. Skin, muscle, nerve endings had been shredded, bones fractured. It would be alright, but it would need time. Merrill watched him closely as he leaned over the sleeping Hawke. She watched the sparks of creation magic, a school of magic completely lost to her. Hawke had more stitches, more bandages, all over. It had been a long fight. Merrill had been with her since the moment Hawke fell.

She put aside the tome she was studying on Hawke's bedside table. One of the books that Hawke had not destroyed when discovering it, to Merrill's gratitude. When she looked up, she saw Anders stare at her with this disapproving look of his, a heady mix of condescension, sympathy and dislike. "This doesn't mean she will ever be with you, Merrill. Hawke is smart. She knows that you will always choose a demon over her."

Merrill's nostrils flared. "This may well be so, Anders. I think you would know. After all, you already chose your demon, over anything else." He didn't like her words, immediately turning defensive.

"Justice is not a demon. He is a good spirit." The age-old argument he had used on her for years.

Merrill laughed and shook her head. "Anders. There are no good spirits. You chose your path. Leave me be. Hawke will be with whoever she wants to be with, or maybe with no one. It's not in our hands. What is in my hands is to take care of her and see her back on her own feet." He nodded, maybe in slight defeat. As he departed, Merrill picked up her tome again. Hypocrite.

Hawke slowly drank from the cup of water that Merrill was holding to her lips. When she leaned back in the pillows, some of her usual spark had returned. "I never took you up on all the offers of water in your house, so now you come to mine to make me drink." She shifted her shoulder, wincing. "I cannot wait to be out of this. I hate feeling this weak."

Merrill put the cup away, then took Hawke's hand, lightly squeezing. "It's been a rough couple weeks. By the Dread Wolf, it's been a rough year. You have earned the rest. Mighty Champion of Kirkwall." The elf giggled at the title and the expression on Hawke's face, full of distaste. "You have no idea how many visitors and messengers and presents Bodahn has to fend off. It's quite amazing. You are like the most important person in Kirkwall now. But don't worry, he only lets your friends in. Isabela came by a lot." Merrill's smile turns sad. "I think she will leave once she is sure that you will be alright. She is not used to people caring like this about her. You risked your life for her."

Hawke groaned, shifting her weight in bed. "Bah, humbug. Don't romanticize it. I am loyal to my friends. It's something that Isabela will still need to learn." Her lips twisted into a sad smile. "You look tired, Merrill. Do you ever sleep? Every time I woke up, you were here, smiling at me."

"I can sleep while sitting here. Or on the floor. I once even tried if I could sleep on one foot. I fell asleep, but I fell over. That wasn't too much fun. I once slept in a tree. That was fun, I felt like on top of the world. Would do that again. Have you ever?" Merrill's words tumbled from her lips, excited to actually be able to speak with Hawke. She had been out for quite sometime, a couple days. It was plenty of reason to be happy. She smiled, her eyes alight, and Hawke smiled back. "Here I am, babbling like a fool again, when you need rest."

Hawke shook her head. "Don't stop talking, please." And so Merrill talked, about everything that happened since the duel, until Hawke fell asleep again, all the while holding on to the elf's hand.

"Why did you leave?" Merrill looked up from the book, the words swimming, as she was very tired. She hadn't noticed Hawke woke up again. She woke more frequently now.

"I didn't leave, did I? I am still here?" Merrill pinched her face. "Yes, definitely still here, if you want to try for yourself." She held an arm out for pinching, but Hawke didn't smile. She looked as serious as Merrill had ever seen her.

"I woke up that morning, and I cannot describe how empty I felt. I thought..." Hawke frowned, as usual having issues expressing her feelings. It simply came down to that. Merrill was painfully aware of this. "I thought I had told you. Did it not mean anything?"

Merrill rose, to sit on the edge of Hawke's bed, with her back to the other woman. "I don't know if it meant anything, Hawke." She looked over her shoulder, watching Hawke's hands cling to the sheets, white-knuckled. "Tell me if it did. Tell me you weren't just vulnerable that night." She waited, sitting stiffly. If she showed no spine now, Hawke would never open up. She looked out the window, watching rays of sunlight and stripes of shadow on the windowsill. She heard Hawke's breathing. She sensed her struggle. But it wasn't enough. She didn't overcome her own demons, as real as the ones Anders and the templars railed about.

"It's time for me to go back home, Hawke. You'll be out and about in no time. It gladdens my heart that you are doing better, ma vhenan. Dareth Shiral." Merrill leaned down to place a kiss on Hawke's cheek. The look in Hawke's eyes nearly broke her heart.

There was some sort of commotion outside. It interrupted Merrill's studies. She usually was very good at ignoring the sounds of Lowtown and the alienage, but whatever was going on was right in front of her door.

"Three cheers for the Champion of Kirkwall! Huzzah!" It sounded like a crowd was cheering outside. Merrill put her face in her hands, unsure if she was ready to face both crowd and Hawke. In particular Hawke. It had been two weeks, and her face haunted Merrill's thoughts.

"Thank you for your kindness. My, pretty flowers. Thank you. But you know, as your Champion, I only have one request. Could I have a little bit of privacy? Like...get out of alienage while I am here? It won't take long." Only Hawke would have the gall to send the elves out of the alienage for her visit. The crowd seemed to disperse, and soon there was silence again.

A long silence. Merrill fully expected to open the door and to find Hawke on her doorstep, with that very focused expression on her face as she tried to sort out what to tell Merrill. She turned the doorknob, and stumbled forward in surprise when the door was pulled shut again.

"Don't open the door, Merrill. I can't do this right if you look at me." Hawke's voice sounded pressed, muffled by the door, but audible. Merrill pressed her ear against the door.

Hawke cleared her throat, and then started. "Remember back then, when you told me you missed me? I felt like a bell and you had just rang me, it resonated through me so strongly. I missed you so much, Merrill. Still do. You were always my safe haven, the place where I could let go. You had no expectations." Oh yes, I did. "But then...when we started sleeping together, I thought that's all that you wanted. You never told me anything else. I was used to Isabela and Fenris not wanting anything else. I thought that's all that it was. That it was what people did."

Merrill heard her sigh, and her voice sounded closer now, as if she was speaking straight into Merrill's ear, with only the wood of the door separating them. "I couldn't get enough of you. I breathed and drank and ate and lived you, Merrill. It was not until you told me that you missed me that I realized it could be so much more. But I didn't know how." There was a sound that could have been either choked laughter or a sob. "Yes, me, cocky, snarky, ballsy Hawke, unable to sort out my feelings and how to show you. Instead I stayed away though it broke my heart."

Merrill felt light-headed, as if dreaming. Surely she wasn't really hearing Hawke laying her heart on the line, out there. "When mother died, and you were there, I knew you loved me. I felt it with every little gesture of yours. I thought it would be enough if I said it then, and you would help me sort out the rest. I thought you missed me as much as I missed you."

There was a long pause, and Merrill wanted to throw open the door and throw herself at Hawke, but she sensed there was more. And there was. "I love you, Merrill. I even found out what ma vhenan means. I love you, my heart." More silence. Merrill quickly wiped at her eyes, never having noticed that tears had spilled over. It was a lot to take in, after three years of dreaming.

When Merrill opened the door, she was greeted by nothing but empty air, and a swirl of dust blown into her house.

The garden of the Hawke mansion was an oasis in the busy heart of Hightown. Outside the walls, there was the hustle and bustle of busy Kirkwall, but within the walls, you heard the singing of birds, the rustling of leaves in the wind, and you smelled the fragrance of the roses that Merrill had been growing here for almost 3 years. They were even climbing the walls. The garden wasn't very neat, for the Dalish elf liked wild growth, close to nature, and even weeds had their beauty.

She was dangling her legs from the tree she sat in, enjoying the coolness despite the summer heat. Her back was against the trunk. She could have napped. She didn't want to. She was waiting.

There were steps below, rustling in the grass. Merrill peeked down and spotted Hawke, looking around in confusion. She smiled, whistling like a bird. Hawke spun in a circle, looking up, take a step backwards when she actually espied Merrill up in the tree. "Oh my. You weren't joking when you said you sleep in trees. I don't think I am quite nimble enough to join you up there, not yet. Are you a squirrel?"

Merrill crouched and then hung from the branch she had been sitting on, dropping down into the soft grass, landing nimbly. "No need to." She reached out to straighten Hawke's tunic, then sat down in the grass. "Sit with me, Hawke. Kick off your boots and sit in the grass with me." Hawke looked doubtful for a moment, but then did exactly that, sitting down with a sigh.

"Ever since that blasted duel I feel old. Not as spry anymore." Hawke wriggled her toes. "It's quite nice here." Her eyes didn't quite meet Merrill's, dancing over her and then looking away.

"Hah, you'll never not be spry. I remember first meeting you and thinking I had never seen anyone move with such grace and strength rolled into one." Merrill picked a stem of grass and then started chewing on it thoughtfully. "I think that was the day I fell in love with you, when you faced Asha'bellanar as if she was a mere mortal. I knew you were destined to be great. How right I was." She smiled reassuringly, reaching out to take Hawke's hand. The contact seemed to calm them both.

"I didn't think you would ever love me back, so I took things into my own hands, and then I wished I hadn't because it only seemed more confusing. Not that I am full of regrets because..." Merrill blushed and laughed. "You are quite amazing and I love your ardor." She rubbed her heated cheeks. "I have an idea, ma vhenan. Let's start over."

Hawke looked confused as Merrill let go of her hand and sat up stiffly, a very serious expression on her face. "My name is Merrill. I am of clan Sabrae of the Dalish. My people have come from the Brecilian Forest in Ferelden to flee the blight. And...you are?"

The Champion of Kirkwall laughed uncertainly, resting her hands on her knees. "I am Hawke. I was born in Lothering in Ferelden, and I served in King Cailan's army at the battle of Ostagar. We fled the blight to Kirkwall because we had family here." She looked saddened when she mentioned her family. "Pleased to meet you."

Merrill's eyes were dancing with eager amusement, and she felt lightheaded. "What a pleasure to meet you, Serah Hawke. Do you believe in love at first sight? I think I do, now."

Hawke's eyes widened and she rubbed at her neck. "Now that you mention it, I do, Merrill of the Sabrae. I do indeed." She smiled and leaned forward. "You have the most amazing eyes. It feels as if could drown in them."

Merrill lay down in the grass, stretching out. "I'd rather not have you drown, Serah Hawke. You are too beautiful for something like that. If I may be bold, have you ever made love in the grass? I mean, truly made love."

Her face was in the shade when Hawke leaned over her, nuzzling her nose. "I have only ever made true love once, I think. I would like to again. If I may be that forward."

Merrill laughed at Hawke's bold words and pulled her face towards her. "You may, ma vhenan, you may." When they kissed, the elf knew for sure that whatever would happen to them, they would always be safe with each other.