A Tale of Two Mothers

Story by WotanAnubis

TITLE: A Tale of Two Mothers

AUTHOR: WotanAnubis

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Dragon Age 2 or any characters from it. No profit is being made.

RATING: NC-17

PAIRING: Hawke/Merill

NOTE: As much as I like Bioware games (and I like them a lot), they don't really inspire me to write a lot of fic. Somehow I'm getting the feeling Dragon Age 2 might be different. Then again, it might not be. My inspiration is rather fickle.

* * * * *

Merrill walked up the stairs to Hawke's... to her... to their bedroom with heavy feet. Evening was creeping over Hightown, but unlike in Lowtown or the Dalish camps, the evening didn't bring too much darkness with it. Torchlight shone through the high windows, which normally made the mansion look kind of cozy, but tonight only made the shadows seem deeper.

The problem, Merrill reflected as she reached the landing and headed for the bedroom door, was certainty. She wasn't certain about anything very much. Of course, she'd never been very certain about things a lot of times, but they usually the kind of things she was happy not being certain about. She wasn't happy about being uncertain now. The fact that she was actually quite certain didn't really help.

Merrill quietly entered the bedroom and saw Hawke sitting at her desk. She was writing in her diary, or had been. The moment she'd entered the room, Hawke's quill stopped and she turned in her chair. She smiled and the doubt in Merrill's chest faded, leaving only the light of certainty.

She took a deep breath. She'd practised for this. Sort of. She'd run it through her head a lot of times, anyway. The important thing was to not just blurt anything out.

"I want to have your baby."

Of course, there was a bit of a difference between not wanting to blurt something out and not actually blurting it out. Merrill had never really mastered the trick.

A puzzled look crossed Hawke's face, though her smile remained. "Excuse me?"

Merril turned away and started pacing. "That is... I mean..."

She stopped. She'd meant exactly was she'd said. The last few years hadn't been too kind to her to anyone else for that matter. There'd been that business with the Qunari for one thing. And the situation between the templars and the mages seemed to be getting worse every day. Then there were all those ignored elves in the Alienage or the troubles of her own clan which she could do nothing about.

But even with all of that, Hawke was there; a shining beacon in the darkness.

Merrill kneeled in front of Hawke and took her hands.

"I love you, ma vhenan," she said. "And I want to start a family with you. Provided you want to as well, of course. I mean, it wouldn't be right if you didn't feel like starting a family, but were going along with out of some sense of obligation or something. That'd just be terrible. I'd never..." She stopped and sighed. "Sorry. Babbling again. I always do that when I get nervous and, as you can imagine, I'm quite... Sorry."

"I don't mind," Hawke replied. "But are you really sure?"

Merrill looked up into Hawke's eyes. There was really only one answer to give.

"Yes. I'm sure. About this, anyway."

Hawke smiled again, but this time there was something impish about her. "And would you like to start trying right now?"

"What do you...? Oh. Oh! Yes. Of course. I mean, I wouldn't ask otherwise, would I?"

Hawke stood up and pulled Merrill to her feet as she did so. Merrill soon found herself in Hawke's embrace and felt her nervousness leaving her.

"I never really thought about starting a family of my own," Hawke said quietly. "There were always more important things to worry about. Until I met you."

"Ma vhenan..." Merrill whispered.

Hawke chuckled. "You know, one of these days you really ought to tell me what that actually means."

"Oh, I don't think I will," Merrill said, looking up into Hawke's eyes. "A good relationship needs a bit of mystery, doesn't it? Besides, I think you can guess."

"Mmm. Maybe I can."

It was difficult to say who moved first. Perhaps Merrill reached up, perhaps Hawke leaned down. Whatever the case, their lips met halfway. Hawke was a surprising kisser, though probably most of the surprise was because Merrill didn't actually have much experience kissing people other than Hawke. Or any experience for that matter. But for someone as competent and as strong as Hawke, her kiss was very soft. Or perhaps it wasn't. Perhaps all strong humans kissed with a gentleness that would wrap her in warmth and fill her with tenderness and excitement at the same time.

But probably not.

As their kiss lengthened it intensified and deepened. Their lips parted almost at the same time and Merrill's tongue briefly met Hawke's. She could still remember the first Hawke had used her tongue in a kiss because it was one of those unfortunate memories that were hard to forget. She'd shrieked and jumped away. Now she accepted her tongue easily, danced with it merrily. Kissing Hawke was a habit that had become an instinct.

But wh

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