Chapter Text
When the last of the books is tucked neatly away in proper storage, Merrill stands and looks around her and Sawen’s bedroom. She frowns at its emptiness, hardly able to recognize the space as theirs. Shelves once lined with countless knickknacks and collectibles are now starkly vacant; empty spaces surrounded by a fine layer of dust serve as the only evidence of their former existence. Numerous stacks of wooden crates are scattered around the room, filled with all of the belongings they have accumulated during their time with the Inquisition.
Now, that time has come to an end.
Merrill knows that Sawen didn’t want to disband the Inquisition – she wouldn’t have, had she not been backed into a corner – but neither could she deny her desire to return to her clan. Though she is equally reluctant to leave Skyhold, Merrill feels the pull to the Free Marches, too, excited for the chance to once again have a home among the Dalish. Come morning they would depart for Wycome and start anew.
Her gaze shifts over to Sawen. She sits at the edge of their bed with her back turned toward her, uncharacteristically quiet, hunched over as she stares out the windows. Merrill watches her sadly. At times, she worries that a vital part of Sawen never quite made it out the other side of the eluvian, unable to face a world that feels so intrinsically different from the one they knew before. It has been this way since their return from the Winter Palace. She keeps to herself whenever possible, out of touch with a faraway look in her dark eyes. Silent.
Merrill tries to fill the silence as best as she can.
She takes in a deep, resolute breath, straightening her posture. “I’ve finished packing all our books.”
Sawen looks over her shoulder, tired eyes following Merrill’s movements as she makes her way to the bed, though never meeting her gaze. Merrill stops when she’s standing just in front of her, their knees just barely touching.
“Though I’m quite certain Dorian made off with our copy of In Pursuit of Knowledge,” she continues, her voice as cheerful as she can make it. “Can’t find it anywhere, I’m afraid. I know it’s not nice of me to be placing blame but… Well, you know how he is.”
Merrill sees a faint yet forced smile tug at Sawen’s lips. She wants to be happy, that much is clear, but she’s still too distracted, too far removed from herself.
“Have you eaten supper yet today?” she asks, changing the subject.
Mutely, Sawen shakes her head.
Merrill opens her mouth to suggest they eat together, but she stops when Sawen turns her attention to her left arm, her remaining hand coming up to brush along the fabric folded over the end of the limb.
“Oh,” Merrill says, “does your arm hurt today?”
Again, Sawen shakes her head. Merrill frowns at the obvious lie and her throat tightens with worry. How much longer would they have to do this? How much longer could Sawen hold her head above the water before she starts to drown?
“Ma vhenan,” she implores softly. She waits patiently for a reply, counting the seconds in her head as they pass, but Sawen says nothing.
Silence has never been quite so deafening.
Unsure of what else to do, Merrill sighs and moves to walk away. As much as she wishes Sawen would confide in her, she knows she can’t force her to. If what she truly needs is space, Merrill would grant it to her. She would give her anything without question, if only it meant that Sawen could feel better.
She doesn’t make it very far.
“Merrill?”
Merrill stops abruptly, turning back around, and Sawen finally looks at her, really looks at her, holding her gaze with glossy eyes. She swallows thickly, determined not to look away despite her vulnerability.
“I’m sorry,” she continues with a shuddering breath. “Please, just – stay. Please.”
Her voice is small, weak, but it’s the first Merrill’s heard it in days. She doesn’t hesitate, sitting down on the mattress and opening her arms. Sawen immediately burrows into her embrace, hiding her face against her neck. Merrill draws her closer, nearly pulling her into her lap.
“I’m sorry,” Sawen repeats, whispering.
Merrill nods. “I know.”
“I just – I don’t know how to – ”
“Hush,” Merrill says gently. She feels the wetness of Sawen’s tears against her skin and holds her tighter. “It’s all right. It’s all right.”
Embarrassed, Sawen lets out a watery laugh, but she makes no move to pull away. Merrill smiles, her own eyes welling up at the sound of the first genuine laugh she’s heard from Sawen in weeks. Relief washes over her like warm rain, cleansing her of her doubt, and she knows that no matter what challenges they would face, they could endure – together.