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Carver never thought he’d endure anything as excruciating as Corypheus’s false calling, but after two months in isolation, he almost missed the migraines. The throbbing, nauseating pain had settled to a minor headache, and the voices were mere whispers now, but any voice would have been better than the nothing.
The settlement reminded him of Lothering, only with fewer people and no darkspawn. His nearest neighbor was an hour’s walk, and the market was even further. It was the better part of a day to Wycome. There were odd jobs to do here and there, but nothing like the mess in Kirkwall, and Carver wasn't sure whether to be bored or relieved.
Back in Orlais, he was so desperate to break away from the pain that he was willing to go along with Aveline and Garrett’s plan. Now, if he got complacent, he could almost forget how thoughts of turning on his comrades had invaded his brain and left him paralyzed and disgusted with himself.
At least he had letters. Only a few people (and none of them Wardens) knew where he was, and now, even the sight of his brother’s tight script made his heart leap.
"Maker help me if he ever finds out," he mumbled, turning the parcel over and breaking the seal. He pulled out a letter first and set the package on his table.
Youngest Brother,
Carver scowled at the salutation. It was meant to disguise his identity but he could imagine the smirk on Garrett's face as he wrote it.
I’ve received word from a mutual friend that the situation is no longer avoidable. Thus, I leave our other mutual friend to join the first. I am doubly glad that our third mutual friend was able to help you, as the situation with our second mutual friend is deteriorating.
Stroud’s suffering was no laughing matter, but his brother delighted in being convoluting. Carver resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. What mattered was that Garrett would be submitting to the Inquisition, at least temporarily.
I have also heard stirrings of our former friend, but perhaps my new friends can assist with this matter. Although, it may be too soon to call them “my new friends,” as one of them may well take my head.
“Former friend” brought Anders to mind, but Garrett didn't talk about Anders if he could help it, even indirectly.
That left Sebastian, perhaps ready to enact his sworn revenge against Hawke.
Carver took in a sharp breath. If Starkhaven was preparing an attack, Aveline would need help.
And Merrill was still in Kirkwall.
He forced his shoulders to relax; surely he would have heard if Starkhaven was poised to attack. He would leave in a heartbeat to aid Aveline, and Merrill could take care of herself. She always could. He’d just been too dumb to realize it before.
It came as no surprise that Merrill had gotten even stronger while he was away with the Wardens. What happened between them when he returned was a surprise best pondered when he wasn’t reading a letter from his brother.
Rest assured that you will be kept abreast of the situation. Whether or not your action is required, do take care of yourself, brother.
Another mutual friend of ours asked me to send this gift to help pass the time. I had nothing to do with it.
Your Eldest Brother
Carver frowned at the last sentence. He set down the letter and unwrapped the parcel slowly, wincing in preparation for the worst. But it was only a book with a large pot on the cover.
“Stews for the Lone Traveler: A Year of Hearty Meals,” he read aloud. A cookbook? His brow knitted in confusion.
He opened the book to a random page, and it was definitely not a cookbook. The pages were littered with lewd drawings, mostly of female elves in poses that made him blush. The book fell to the floor with a thud.
“Isabela,” he grumbled. Garrett may have claimed innocence, but Carver knew better.
Did they think him some sort of lecher with a taste for elves? He could just see the two of them having a good laugh over it.
He let out a sigh and shook his head. Nothing was beyond Garrett, but this didn't seem like his style (though he undoubtedly found it hilarious). Isabela had been known to leave similar tokens around the Hawke estate for Garrett, and this probably was her idea of a practical gift. It was almost touching, in a strange way.
Smirking, he picked up the book, closed it, and set it on his shelf. He didn't bother hiding it; it wasn’t like anyone was going to come over and see it there.
There were no more letters.
Another sigh escaped his lips. It had been a couple weeks since he had heard from Merrill, but she was busy.
In the two letters she had already sent, she wrote of rebuilding homes in the alienage and improving living and working conditions for the elves there. He missed doing the work with her, but she kept him up to date on who had gotten married, who had new jobs, and who had strange growths that needed treatment.
She addressed the letters to "Ma vhenan" and signed them "Daisy." He wished he had taken the chance to ask her what ma vhenan meant in person. He was sure it was a term of endearment, because prior to the letters, she had only ever used it during their more passionate moments. Carver loved when she slipped into elvish--it meant he was doing something right.
He found himself smiling in spite of his loneliness. She was happy there, so he could be happy for her.
Memories from before he left gave him even more reasons to smile.
Fighting the Templars side by side with his brother in what was now being called the Kirkwall Rebellion had been a terrible, fulfilling rush. Garrett’s world had fallen apart, but Carver was there at his side, as natural as breathing.
He hadn’t expected Merrill to approach him in the cold, still moments just before confronting Meredith.
“It’s good you came back, Carver. Hawke needs you.”
“I guess I need him, too.”
“That’s sweet. You’re very sweet, Carver. Before you left, I did wonder what it might be like to kiss you.” Despite all his training, her words and the way she smiled up at him nearly made him drop his sword. Her eyes went wide and she cringed. "I'm sorry! That must have sounded very strange. Facing Meredith, and all those Templars, it just has me imagining all the ways it could go wrong.”
She wrung her hands and Carver wanted to ease her nerves, but he felt like the same fumbling boy who didn’t kiss a girl until he was 18 (a full year after Bethany’s first kiss--Garrett, of course, beat them both at 15).
Maybe the fighting was getting to him, too. With a deep breath he took one of her hands in his. “I’ve heard stranger things.”
Merrill went still. “Oh!” A giggle escaped her lips and his heart jumped. “Well, it seems like as good a time as any, doesn’t it? Given we may die.”
That was the part where he was supposed to take her in his arms and kiss her like it was their last chance, but all he could say was, “I...right.”
But Merrill had placed her hands on the hilt of his sword, stood on her tiptoes, and pressed her lips to his.
It wasn’t the desperate kiss he imagined. Her lips were slow and soft against his, savoring it, as if they had all the time in the world. She kissed him like it was the first kiss of many to come, and he knew they would not die there.
They did not, and they made good on their promise.
Now, Carver longed for the bittersweet days spent cleaning the city, consoling his brother, and stealing moments with Merrill whenever he could. There was much to be done in the alienage, but Merrill attacked the repairs with such vigor that he loved helping her. Then, their stolen kisses gave way to longer, more heated encounters, and…
Carver missed her. Badly.
He sat down and let his head hang. Perhaps Isabela had a point.
It was just that he couldn't remember ever being so happy with anyone.
Even though Garrett had never shown a romantic interest in women, that didn't stop certain women from trying. Carver was ashamed to admit that more than one of his previous relationships had been built on a foundation of, "Well, if I can't have Garrett." It was as empty for him as it was for them.
But Merrill had crept into his thoughts and stayed. Not every day, and not all the time, but when a Warden cracked a dirty joke, he wondered if Merrill would have caught it. When they came across Dalish clans, he resisted asking if they had any contact with Merrill's former clan. Any Dalish artifacts they found went to Dalish Wardens for study, but Carver wanted to show them to Merrill.
He wondered if she ever thought of him as he wrestled with sleep on lumpy patches of ground. This house was small, but comfortable, and he reclined on the chaise, grateful for the cushion under his back. Perhaps a nap would ease the last remnants of his headache...
Carver’s eyes snapped open at the creak of a floorboard. Had he really dozed off in the afternoon? He blinked away hazy dreams of an archdemon he had never seen and his hand crept towards his dagger. This was no corrupt Warden intruder, but there were others who might want him dead.
Slowly, he turned his head toward the source of the sound, heart pounding.
"Oh Carver, I'm so sorry! You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake you, but of course I couldn't keep myself quiet."
His chest ached at the sight of her. Merrill stood at his bookcase, a deep green cloak around her shoulders. He exhaled through his mouth, releasing the handle of his dagger.
"It's fine, I thought you were--what are you doing here?" He sat up and ran a hand over his hair to smooth it down.
Merrill picked up one of his books, running her hand over the cover. Her mouth was set in a line and she looked upset. "Yes, I suppose this would be confusing."
Carver stood and took a step towards her. "Merrill, what's wrong?"
She opened the book before he realized which one it was.
"Oh! Well that’s better than stew," she exclaimed, tilting her head to examine the pictures. Carver's face went red hot but she smiled up at him, easing his embarrassment. "I like this book."
"Isabela was worried I might get bored," he muttered.
“How thoughtful.” Merrill closed the book, but eyes fell once more. "I'm sorry, Carver. I shouldn't have bothered you."
"No, you could never bother me. I'm very happy to see you." The mystery of her stopped letters was solved--she was traveling, and her pack sat next to his door. But now he had other mysteries to solve. "How did you get in?"
"Oh, just a bit of magic,” she said, wringing her hands. “Don’t worry, I mended your window. I hoped you wouldn’t mind.”
Carver wasn’t sure how she had broken and fixed his window without him waking up, but he had long since given up on trying to understand everything about the mages in his life. “It’s fine. I’m just happy to see you.”
He wanted to embrace her, but with her arms held tight over her chest, she didn’t look like she wanted to be touched.
“Yes, you did say that.” She let her arms fall to her sides and shook her head. “Oh, I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I am happy to see you, too. It’s been a long trip.” She fussed with the clasp of her cloak.
“Sit, please,” he said, gesturing toward the chaise where he had drifted off. “Let me get you some water.”
“Oh, yes, I suppose I should.”
He fetched her some water, and she took a tiny sip.
"I can take your cloak. I mean, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”
“That’s very kind,” she replied, but she made no move to take off the cloak.
Since she wasn’t volunteering any information, Carver decided to try to get some on his own. “Did something happen in Kirkwall? My brother, he mentioned that Starkhaven was readying for an attack.”
"Oh, that." Merrill nodded distractedly. "Yes, Aveline has been getting worried. Oh, I shouldn't have left her. But she's been in touch with Varric and the Inquisition may be able to help Kirkwall. I meant to tell you, but I've just been..."
Carver sat down next to her and she took another sip of water. She fell silent and he swallowed, trying to think of something to make her feel better.
"How is Amren? You, um, mentioned you were trying to heal his foot issue..."
This was apparently the wrong thing to say, as Merrill let out a small cry. Carver's chest seized and he reached out to her, stopping just short of touching her. He didn't want to upset her further, but then she fell into his arms.
He pulled her close, burrowing his nose in her hair. She smelled of the forest and fresh earth, and the familiar sensation soothed some of his fears.
“I’m sorry, Carver, you must think me such a mess.”
“Never,” he murmured against her head. He wanted to panic but decided the best course was to reassure her until she was ready to talk, so he stroked her back over her heavy cloak.
“Healing was never part of my training. Not as a Keeper, nor on my own. Of course I want to help my people--all people, really, but I never thought of anyone but my clan. I thought I was helping them, but then I ruined it. And then Hawke came along, and you, and, oh, where was I going with this?”
Carver had no idea, and he met her eyes when she drew back. His hand shaking, he reached up to dab a tear from her eye. “Take your time. I really do have all day.”
The corners of her mouth curved up just a little. “You are sweet.” She took a deep breath and looked away. “I think, no, I’m fairly certain--oh, come on, Merrill, you practiced this.”
His brow knitted in confusion, but he gave her hand a squeeze of encouragement.
She nodded and turned back to him. “Carver, I’m going to have a baby. With you.”
Carver wasn’t sure what he expected to hear, only that it wasn’t that. His brain went numb. Had he misheard her? For Grey Wardens, it was nearly impossible. He didn’t blink, maybe he didn’t even breathe, and the room was spinning.
Nearly impossible. Not impossible. There is a big difference. And I should have been more careful. How could I be so stupid? Merrill’s elvhen heritage is so important to her, of course she’s upset. She’s got every right to be miserable. No matter how she might feel about me, any baby of ours would be indistinguishable from a human.
Ours. Our baby.
The thought knocked him back, but with no support, he slipped off the chaise to the floor. Merrill gave a yelp and reached for him.
“Oh, Carver, are you all right? I thought if you were sitting, then it wouldn’t be such a shock, but of course it is. Oh, please say something!”
He scrambled to his feet, feeling guilty for getting so caught up in his own reaction. Knowing he would never find the right words, he just started talking. “I’m sorry, Merrill. I never should have--we got so carried away back in Kirkwall, and with the taint, I never imagined...” He sighed and sat back down next to her. “This is all my fault.”
Merrill shook her head. “No it isn’t. It does take two people, you know, and I...” She trailed off, but Carver could follow. It was still just as much his fault, but he remembered her encouragement so vividly that he flushed again.
Garrett's voice rang in his head. Bit late to be bashful about that now, brother.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. Focus. “How do you feel?”
“Fine, at the moment. Sometimes a little sick. It took me a bit longer to get here than it should have. I had to take breaks.”
His eyes widened as he realized she had come a long way, and in her condition. Carver stopped himself from commenting on that. “I mean, how do you feel about this,” he swallowed, “this baby?”
Merrill inhaled through her nose. “Well, I’m wondering if I should have come at all. You’ve got so much to think about with Corypheus and your Grey Wardens, and I was doing so well in Kirkwall, all things considered. Except for the vomiting. The alienage, it’s cleaner than it used to be, but I think I smell it a bit more now.” She sat back and unhooked her cloak, slipping it from her shoulders. “I'm babbling, aren't I?"
Carver draped the fabric over the back of the chaise, watching her fan herself. She didn't look any different, but it was probably still too early. He wondered if it happened the last time he was in Kirkwall. It was about four months ago, and it was definitely possible.
Carver took another deep breath. “I'm glad you did come." That made three times telling her. "I mean, I'm glad you told me."
"Oh." She rubbed her hands together, then turned to him. "How do you feel about it?"
"I'm…” His heart was racing like he was in the heat of battle. He didn’t want to worry her, or worse, be selfish. “Merrill, whatever you want to do, I’m with you.”
"You're always so sweet to me." But this time, she frowned as she said it. "You don't have to be. I've had weeks to come to terms with it, and you've only had a few minutes. If you have more to say, I’d rather you just told me.”
Merrill had a point. “Right.” Carver took a deep breath to try and focus his thoughts. “When I joined the Wardens, I was just happy not to be dead. I never thought I’d get the chance to do anything else.” He met Merrill’s gaze, her eyes wide as she listened. Feeling emboldened, he took her hands. “I never thought I'd have someone like you in my life. You have no idea how much I missed you, but reading your letters, knowing you were happy, that was enough."
She smiled at this, and there were tears in her eyes once more. “I was happy.”
And that was why he couldn’t just let himself be happy. He would have been, if she was. But how could he be glad for something when it meant sadness for her? “I know how much your people mean to you. This can’t be how you imagined your life, or your family.”
“Well, no, it’s not,” she admitted. “But I haven’t really had the time to picture it, not since I met your brother.”
“Funny how that works.” They shared a quick laugh, and Merrill’s shoulders relaxed a little more.
"I missed you as well, Carver. And I’ve had worse surprises.” She wrinkled her brow. “No, that didn’t come out right.”
Hope ignited in his chest. “I think I know what you meant,” he said with a smile. Merrill let out a breathy giggle that pulled at his heart.
Maybe it was just the months they had spent apart, or his relief at seeing her again, but she did have a glow to her.
"I did wonder what my clan would think at first," she said, placing a hand on her stomach. "But then I realized they wouldn't think anything. I've been dead to them for a long time now. I don't like that part so much. But if I'm happy, I don't think it matters."
"I'm happy, too," he blurted out. The tension in his shoulders broke free and he squeezed her hands.
"Oh, thank the Creators!" She let out a relieved sigh. "I was worried you weren't!"
Carver winced. "I'm sorry. I just had to know that you were happy first."
She laughed. "Listen to us, too nervous and tongue-tied to even realize we agree!"
"We'll have to work on that," Carver said with a sheepish grin.
"I think we'll have lots of chances to practice." Merrill reached up to stroke his cheek. "There's so much to talk about. But for the moment, I think we've said enough, don't you?"
Carver pulled Merrill closer and answered her question by pressing his lips to hers. Raising a family in Thedas seemed even harder than facing Corypheus, but he was a Hawke, and Merrill was incredible. Together, he thought, they just might have a chance.