Shadows Within: Epilogue 3 (FINAL)

Merrill’s Apartment (Lowtown)

“This is a bad idea.”

Merrill sighed. “I know you think so, but—”

“You realize every time he’s come out in the past, he’s killed someone?”

“Not last time! Last time he was perfectly civil. Nice, even.”

Anders sighed and rubbed his temples. “I don’t want to do this.”

“I know. But… but I have questions for him. Important ones that even you can’t answer. I need to talk to him. Now. That’s why I asked you to visit me here.”

The feathery mage sighed again as he scratched at Ser Prowls-a-lot’s head. The cat, who had tagged along for the trip to Merrill’s home, purred and arched against his fingers, letting out a contented mewl. Anders picked up the black-furred feline and set him on the ground, safely out of the way. “All right. You win. Just… give me a moment. He doesn’t usually come willingly.”

“Just tell him I want to talk to him,” Merrill said. “That should be enough.”

“All right… I’ll try…”

Anders closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Merrill waited with baited breath for a few moments, watching his every move as if she were trying to commit it all to memory. After a short time, the mage’s breath hitched and his brows furrowed like he was in pain. His hands clenched into fists against the rough wooden tabletop, and his muscles began to quiver.

A second later there was a resounding boom and a burst of blue-white fire consumed his body. Lighting flared to life beneath his skin and when he opened his eyes again they were filled with glowing sapphire light. He looked up to meet Merrill’s gaze, and when he spoke it was with Justice’s deep, booming snarl.

“Why have you summoned me?” the spirit said through Anders’ lips.

“Because…” Merrill bit her lip. “Because I have questions.”

“I would have thought you would still be resting after your ordeal.”

“It was distracting, being cooped up in bed all day. I wanted some fresh air.”

Justice regarded her coldly. “So you chose to pester me? I have much to do within the Fade, even after our triumph over Validation.”

“I know. But… but I want to know how things have changed since she was killed. I need to know.”

“Very well. Ask what you will.”

Merrill’s heart quickened with equal parts anticipation and anxiety. “How are things? Peaceful?”

“Validation’s demon army has vanished into the depths of the Fade,” Justice confirmed. “The tower she once called her fortress has been torn down, never to be rebuilt. Those displaced by her evil now flock to my refuge, taking shelter under my protection.”

“And the others? Who else survived the battle?”

“Many Valor spirits were slain,” Justice said, a grim tone sneaking into his voice. “As were many other friends of mine; spirits and demons both. But we will mourn their loss and rebuild in their honor. It is the way of things.”

The spirit paused, then added, “It will please you to know that Resolve managed to survive the battle. His aid in the reconstruction of my refuge has been most helpful, and many of his former compatriots among the Sloth demons have also lent their aid to our cause.”

“Really?” Merrill grinned. “Oh, it’s so good to know he survived. When Victory sent him down to the courtyard to fight, I thought…”

“Turn your mind away from such thoughts, little elf,” Justice said. “He survived. There is nothing else to say.”

“Right. Right.” She bit her lip, debating whether to ask the next question that came to mind. She decided the pain of not knowing was far more frightening.

“And… has there been anything about Victory?”

Justice didn’t move, though a knowing look entered his blazing blue-white eyes. “You ask if she has reappeared.”

“I-I know death doesn’t affect spirits the same way it does us mortals. I was just wondering…”

“The answer is no. She has not reconstituted within the Fade. Even if she did, she would not be as she was.”

“What do you mean?”

“She would be born anew; a fresh, clean slate to be strengthened or corrupted as the world saw fit. She would have no memory of what transpired within Validation’s tower or the final bout with Validation.”

“I know,” Merrill reluctantly admitted. “But… but it would still be her, right? She would still be the same person.”

Justice smiled a little at that and murmured, “That, my friend, is all a matter of perception.”

Merrill stared at him, then nodded and clasped her hands in her lap. “Thank you, Justice. I won’t take up more of your time. I’m glad things are going well for you in the Fade.”

Justice inclined his head. “Your deeds will not be forgotten, mortal. You have allies here, both among the spirits and demons. You have done us a great service, and we shall not easily turn from that debt.”

“You’re too kind. Although…”

Justice’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

Merrill felt a blush warm her cheeks. “There… there is a way you could repay me. Only if you wanted to, of course.”

“What would you ask of us?”

“Do you know of any beings who are good at fixing things? Spirits or demons who have experience with… with magical relics?”

“You have a talisman that needs renewed power? An object in need of enchanting? That hardly seems worth the trouble you went through to free us.”

Merrill turned and looked over her shoulder. Through the doorway to her bedroom, she could just make out the swooping arches and intricate carvings of the Eluvian. It resonated with powerful magic, even from this distance.

She licked her suddenly dry lips. “That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

~~~~~~~~

The Hanged Man (Two weeks later)

Marian stepped through the doors to the tavern, closing her eyes as she let the warm scents and the dull roar of evening conversation wash over her and soothe the stress of the day. Several of the other regulars nodded to her as she passed, greeting her with tipped mugs and murmurs of, “Hawke.”

Varric was already waiting for her at the table near the back, a deck of Wicked Grace cards splayed out on the table in front of him. Isabela and Aveline were there too, as was a weary-looking Anders. Fenris had yet to show up for one of their weekly games, and she wasn’t sure they’d be seeing Carver or Merrill, especially considering everything that had happened in recent weeks.

She settled into her seat, ordering a mug of her usual from Corff the bartender with a raised hand and a nod. Varric instantly slid a hand of cards across to her with a wink and a roguish grin.

“We almost thought you weren’t coming, Hawke,” Aveline said as they raised their cards and the game began. She kept an eye on Isabela, who had a knack for spying on other people’s hands while no one was looking. “You were more than fashionably late.”

“I was busy,” Hawke replied. “Mother’s hell-bent on moving in to the old estate by the end of the month. It’s all I can do to stop her from running up to Hightown now.”

Varric chuckled as he drew another card. “Can anyone blame her? I’d run twice the distance in nothing but my smallclothes if it meant getting out of your Uncle Gamlen’s company earlier than expected.”

“He grows on you,” Hawke assured him. “Once you learn to look past the smell, the constant booze-breath, and the moldy clothes… and the constant grousing about money.”

Aveline chipped in. “And the insulting comments about how women should stay in the kitchens.”

Isabela, too. “And the constant attempts to touch me.”

“And the endless jokes about how short I am,” Varric added.

“And the anti-mage drivel he spouts.” Anders this time.

“And the constant attempts to touch me. Seriously, do I have to take his hand for him to get the hint? Just because I dress like this doesn’t mean I’m available to everyone.”

Anders snorted. “Hmph. Could have fooled me.”

Hawke frowned at her cards. “When you put it that way, I find it hard to disagree with you.”

Isabela threw a silver into the betting pile. “So what’s the new place like? The estate in Hightown, I mean.”

Hawke pulled a face while Corff delivered her the drink she had ordered. “Dusty. I almost can’t breathe in there. And the paint’s peeling from the walls. We’ll have to do some renovations before it’s completely livable.”

Varric glared at her. “Why are you looking at me? I’ve already spent enough time trying to smell-proof your room in your uncle’s house.”

“Well you’re almost good at it,” Hawke insisted, throwing her own silver into the pile. “How do dwarves keep the stench of the Deep Roads out of Orzammar?”

“We burn shit. Eventually the stench of smoke overpowers anything else.”

Anders laughed. “See, Hawke? All you have to do is burn Gamlen’s hovel to the ground and the problem’s solved.”

“I can think of a few people who would actually think that a viable plan.” Hawke rolled her eyes as she sipped at her drink. “But… the estate is nice. I think, in time, that it can be more than just another hideout to keep away from Templars. It could be… I don’t know. A home.”

Varric looked at her with a knowing stare. “You sound as if you haven’t had many of those.”

“I haven’t,” she admitted. “But there’s a first time for everything, right?”

Isabela slung an arm around her shoulders in an attempt to both comfort her and get a peek at her cards. “I think you’ll find that this merry band of misfits grows on you. I mean, what would you do without us?”

“Win more games of cards, for one.”

They played in silence for a while before Hawke cleared her throat awkwardly. “So… has anyone heard from Merrill?”

Varric shook his head, his tongue between his teeth as he concentrated. “I invited her to the game, but she said she had important things to deal with. She isn’t going to be joining us.”

Part of Hawke was disappointed to hear it. Another part was incredibly relieved. She hadn’t tried to talk to Merrill since their parting after the exorcism. She’d heard the little elf had travelled with Lady Nightingale to Sundermount, to attend a funeral service for their mutual friend Lyna. Since then, she’d seen nothing of either woman.

It didn’t surprise Hawke that Leliana had gone underground so quickly. The woman was many things, but conspicuous she was not. The only contact she’d had from the bard since parting ways was a single letter sent to Gamlen’s shack a few days before, delivered by a small child that looked mysteriously like one of Xenon the Antiquarian’s urchins.

Marian, it had read. If you are receiving this letter, then it has managed to successfully reach your home without being intercepted by Chantry agents. I have been expressly forbidden from conversing with you again, as it is a threat to my cover within the city. However, I feel you deserve more than that. You have earned my respect, and that is not so easily tossed aside.

I wanted to apologize one last time. When I first met you, I allowed my devotion to my mandate to cloud my judgement. I see now that you sought nothing other than to free your friend. You were doing no harm, and you did not deserve the fate I had planned for you. For betraying your trust and seeking to bring harm to you and your allies, I offer you my deepest apologies.

I know I was not the easiest person to work with. I lied to you. I withheld information from you. I would have killed you, given the chance. But I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me for these faults. If given the chance to repeat these past few days, many things would be different.

I wanted you to know that because of the time I spent with you, I am now looking at your fellow apostates with a much more objective light. I have investigated three more in the days since parting and all seek only to help others – strangely, two of the three mentioned you by name and claimed they wished to follow your example. None of their dealings were as exciting – or life-threatening – as yours, however.

You are doing great things, Marian, both in your deeds and the image you present to your fellows. You are a gift this city does not deserve.

I hope we will be given the chance to meet again. I hope that when that time comes, you will be as glad to see me as I will be to see you. Until that day, know that traveling with you was a rare privilege I will not soon forget.

Your friend,

Leliana

Hawke had kept the letter, feeling a strange warmth whenever she read it. Those last words, your friend, held on with a particular stubbornness. She was definitely one of the most dangerous people Hawke had ever met, not to mention one of the most devious, but… Leliana was a friend. Not one Hawke would have expected to make, but a friend nonetheless.

She wondered for a moment if Leliana had the power to talk to Merrill on her behalf. After all, the two seemed to get along swimmingly. But she quickly discarded the idea. The bond the two shared was one borne of tragedy, and that was not a tie Marian was willing to manipulate for her own gain.

No, this mess with Merrill was her fault, and therefore it was her responsibility to fix it. The only question was how, particularly after she had done such a magnificent job of setting their friendship ablaze.

Isabela’s company the past few days had done little to ease her pain. Of course, the sleepless nights of passionate lovemaking felt good, but she knew all along that Isabela was just using her. She was trying to help in her own way, but it was still a manipulation. Marian didn’t hold it against the pirate, but she also didn’t hold any illusions that their couplings would grow into anything more than basic stress relief.

And every time Isabela rose from the bed to dress and prepare for the day, every time the piratess turned her back on Marian and left her to her own devices, Hawke found herself wishing with all her heart that the dark-skinned Rivaini was instead an adorable, skinny little Dalish. She couldn’t tear her mind away from the thought.

There was a basic attraction that made their intimate get-togethers far from unpleasant, but Hawke simply didn’t want Isabela. She wanted Merrill. And no matter what she did, she couldn’t turn away from that.

But then she kept returning to that night in Merrill’s apartment. To the cold look in the elf’s eyes and the quiver in her voice as she said, ““Hawke. You need to leave. Now.”

She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. As much as she wished things were different, whatever she and Merrill had was gone. It was over and done with, and it was most likely never coming back. Hanging herself up over it was just stupid. She needed to move on.

When she opened her eyes again, she looked up to find everyone staring at her.

“What?”

Varric nodded at her cards. “It’s your turn. We’ve been waiting on you.”

“Oh.” Hawke blushed. “Sorry. I was… thinking.”

Isabela threw her a seductive smile, her voice low and husky as she murmured, “Oh? About anything in particular?”

“It was nothing. Just… thinking.”

The piratess leaned over and nudged Anders’ shoulder. “You know what that means.”

“Not really,” said a very familiar, wavering voice from behind them. “Is it something dirty?”

Everyone turned to find Merrill standing near their table, hands linked in front of her and a blush spreading across her tattooed cheeks. She shifted nervously from foot to foot, bouncing on her heels a little.

“I’m sorry,” she quickly said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. But most of the time when Isabela says, You know that that means, I don’t actually know what that means. Mostly because it’s dirty, and I’m not good at—”

Varric laughed interrupting her. “Daisy! I thought you weren’t coming! Pull up a chair and we’ll deal you in.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Merrill slid into the empty seat next to Hawke, folding her fingers on the tabletop as Varric passed her several cards. “I was thinking of just staying in tonight, but… I decided it would be better to get some fresh air.”

“And Lowtown was your choice for a nighttime stroll?” Anders smirked. “I have to question your judgement.”

“Well,” Merrill glanced over at Hawke, then blushed and looked down at her lap. “I thought it would be nice to see some friendly faces, too. I figured it would be better to come here than get lost in the Viscount’s gardens again.”

“For what it’s worth,” Hawke said slowly, “it’s good to see you again. I’m glad you decided to join us, Merrill.”

“It’s… it’s good to see you too, Marian. I’m glad to be here. Actually here, without a demon crawling around in my head.”

She glanced up and met the human woman’s steel-grey gaze. “It occurs to me that I never properly thanked you, Hawke.”

“You don’t need to thank—”

“No, this time I do,” Merrill interrupted. “I would never have escaped without your help. And everyone else’s help of course. You all came to help me when I needed it the most, and…”

She reached over and patted Hawke’s hand, the simple touch sending a thrill through Marian’s system. “And I’m lucky to have friends like you. Thank you.”

The bony elf blushed even deeper as she turned her attention to her cards. “There, now I’ve made everything all awkward. I’ll just shut up now and try to remember how to play this game.”

Hawke stared at the girl, then smiled and turned to her own cards. But before they could begin, the sound of scraping wood drew their attention. Varric was pushing a mug of dark-colored liquid across the table to Merrill.

The elven mage cocked her head. Then her eyes widened as she saw just what Varric was passing to her.

“Varric…” she whispered. “That’s the Storyteller Mug.”

“Sharp eyes, Daisy.”

“B-but only the people with the best stories get to drink from that!”

“That’s why I’m giving it to you,” Varric said with a grin. “Because if memory serves, you’ve got a doozy of a story to tell us.”

“Yes!” Isabela clapped her hands. “Tell us exactly what happened after you were sucked away by that evil demon. Every last sordid detail, leave nothing out.”

Hawke grinned along with all the others as Merrill reached out with quivering fingers to lift the mug to her lips. She sipped at the rum within, grimacing at the bitter taste. “A-all right…” she said slowly. “But I’m not sure I’m very good at this kind of thing.”

“I think you’ll tell it well,” Anders said. “You were the only one there, after all.”

“Well, all right… Um, when Hawke, Varric, and Anders were still fighting Greed—”

“Uh-uh-uh,” Varric interrupted her with a smirk. “You know how you have to start this tale.”

Merrill blinked, then her face broke into a wide, happy smile. She narrowed her eyes to conspiratorial slits as she hunched low over the Storyteller’s Mug. She spread her arms wide and lowered her voice to a gravelly hiss.

“No shit!” she growled. “There I was…”

~~~~~~~~

Present

Varric settled back in his seat, folding his hands behind his head as he kicked one leg over his other knee. “There you go, Seeker. The whole story, from beginning to end. I trust it was sufficient?”

“But… but Merrill and Hawke did not…”

“Didn’t what? Wind up together? That came later, Seeker.”

“But –”

“I would have thought you’d be far more interested in what became of Validation.”

Cassandra sputtered indignantly. “Well, obviously, of course I am! I just thought it prevalent to note the… the important moments of the Champions personal life, because they would…”

“Uh-huh,” Varric smirked at her. “Tell yourself whatever you want, Seeker. I know a fan when I see one. What’re they calling that sort of thing these days? Shipping?”

“Shut up.”

Leliana came to her stumbling friend’s aid. “What did become of Validation? Spirits can reconstitute within the Fade even after death. Did she return?”

Varric shrugged. “Justice kept a pretty close eye on things after she split, but he didn’t see any sign of her. Though he did notice a spirit of Humility appear at his sanctuary shortly after Validation was killed.”

“Humility,” Leliana said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “That was the demon’s original form, was it not? Before she was corrupted by her own pride and hatred?”

“Got it on the nose, Songbird.”

“So she did return?” Cassandra demanded, trying furiously to hide the blush crawling up her cheeks. “Validation still lives?”

“No, Seeker. Validation’s dead as dead can be. But the idea that gave birth to her came back in its purer form. It’s more peaceful form.”

“And what is that? Simple humility?”

“Nothing is simple when it comes to the Fade, Seeker. Humility is more than just being bashful and meek; it’s acknowledging when others have wronged you and having the courage to forgive them for it. It’s having the strength to have wrong done to you, but not rise to claim revenge. To turn the other cheek and simply be hurt rather than hurt another.”

He chuckled. “Is it so surprising to see that Humility returned so quickly? There was a lot of forgiveness going around after Validation was killed.”

“Oh? How so?”

He sighed, shaking his head with a smirk. “Have you not been paying attention, Seeker? How do you think Merrill freed herself from Validation in the first place? It went far deeper than just cutting her head off.”

“Do explain,” Leliana urged him.

“She had to forgive. She forgave Lyna for leaving her all those years ago, forgave Victory for sending so many spirits to die in the battle for the tower. She forgave Hawke for sleeping with not-Isabela when she was trapped in the demon’s nightmare, even though it had to be brought back up later.”

He shifted in his uncomfortable seat, folding his arms across his chest. “Those emotional wounds, those unforgiven faults, were what tied Validation to Merrill’s mind. Once she moved past them, learned to treat others with humility and compassion, Validation had nothing left to hold on to. The emotional scars that Justice mentioned in the Fade were gone. So when Validation got a bit taken off the top, she couldn’t just jump to a new fault.”

He continued. “Meanwhile, Hawke forgave Leliana for plotting against us all, and she forgave Merrill for hurting her so badly after she was free. You can see how it was all so lovey-dovey that Validation’s purer form just couldn’t stay away.”

“But did Hawke and Merrill forgive each other?” Cassandra said with a frown. “It didn’t seem like it. It seemed that the two simply refused to speak of it again.”

Varric adjusted the glove on one hand. “There… might have been a flower delivery or two to Merrill’s apartment after everything was over. Andraste’s Grace, from an anonymous donor.”

Leliana smiled knowingly. “And how were they received?”

“Let’s just say they survived much longer this time around.”

Cassandra sighed and rubbed her eyes wearily. “This is… quite the tale you have spun for us, Varric. I’m not sure whether I believe even half of it.”

“You’ll have to take my word for it, then. Have I led you astray so far?”

“No, but… forgive me. How could Merrill and Hawke still become lovers after so much had happened to them? How could they continue after Merrill had gone through so much?”

Varric grinned. “That, my dear Seeker, is a tale for another time.”

Cassandra scowled at him, her face hardening to its usual stony demeanor. She turned back to Leliana and said, “Thank you for your part in retelling this tale, Sister. I can take it from here.”

Leliana nodded, drawing her hood back over her head. “I will return to the war effort and coordinate the men in preparation for the Conclave. I will be in touch.” The Nightingale nodded to Varric and murmured, “Varric, it is always a pleasure. Even under these circumstances.”

He grudgingly nodded. “Right back at you, Songbird.”

Leliana smiled at him, then stepped away and blended back into the shadows. Within the blink of an eye, it was as if she had never been there in the first place. Cassandra stared at the spot she had occupied for a few long moments, a distracted look in her eyes. Then she turned that burning gaze on him again and stepped forward.

“Very well, Varric,” she said. “You have sated my curiosity. But there is more of Hawke’s story I wish to learn. Continue with your tale.”

He nodded, all too happy to return to his storytelling. “Very well, Seeker. So where did we leave our gallant Champion?”

He rubbed at his chin, then clapped his hands as the story returned to him. “That’s where we were! So Hawke and I were heading uptown to visit Fenris one day…”

~~~~~~~~

To be continued in Dragon Age: Matters of the Heart…