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Marian wasn’t bleeding out.
It was just… above average blood leaving her body. From non-standard places.
She wasn’t dying, she wasn’t dizzy, and she certainly wasn’t not making any sense.
“It’s alright Hawke!” Merrill was doing her best to wedge herself under Marian’s armpit. She fit, sure, fit in the pit, but Merrill hadn’t exactly been running around, dead-lifting the halla before she would up in Kirkwall. Or… she probably hadn’t been.
Marian had never asked before.
“Am I…?” Her voice was slow. That was fine. Not a sign of anything. “Am I heavier than a halla?”
“Is this a trick question?” Merrill asked, groaning as she tried to haul Marian away from the pile of bandits that were way bloodier and way deader than Marian was right now. “Are you being tricky? It’s rude to be tricky and bloody and heavy at the same time.”
“Heavier than a halla?”
“Well, with all this armor on-” She huffed. “Come along, Hawke! Move your feet, why don’t you?”
“Merrill, it wouldn’t kill us to rest for a while.”
“Oh, don’t even say it!”
“I’m fine, Merrill,” Marian insisted. “It’s just-” She took another step forward, and the world lurched in the opposite direction. “Merrill,” she groaned. “I think there’s an earthquake starting. We really should rest.”
“By the mercy of Mythal!” Merrill set Marian down.
Oh, finally. She’s seeing sense. Marian crumpled, totally intentionally, onto the dirt. And… She squinted up, making out Merrill’s figure against the too-bright sun. Pulling out a knife. Is she ending my misery? Is this what having your misery ended is like? It seemed pretty miserable, too, if Marian was being honest.
“I do hate doing this, you know,” Merrill fretted, fumbling with the blade. “But you’re not- Well, you’re not exactly leaving me much of a choice, now, are you?” Her hands shook slightly. Not a good thing, to be shaking when holding a knife. Not in Marian’s opinion, at least. “Oh, you terribly stubborn lady!” She took a deep breath. “Stay still, pretty please?”
You got it, Merrill, Marian thought. She stayed, nice and cozy, on the grass. The sun was out. It was cool. A chill still hung in the air, even into early summer.
“No, no!” Merrill yelped, rudely pinching Marian’s cheek as soon as her eyes closed for a nap.
“Hey!” She jolted. “You- you told me to stay still!”
“Eyes open, please!” Merrill whined. “Just- Oh, I’ll only be another minute! Then- You’ll- You’ll be right as rain!” She started talking to herself. Her voice felt distant, fuzzy. “I knew we should have stopped by that shemlen’s place! Oh, Merrill, why can’t you ever-?” She let out a small hiss of pain.
Marian tried to sit up, Merrill’s insistences be damned. The world spun. “Merrill?” She squinted, trying to make sense of things through the haze. “Are you hurt?” She couldn’t focus. Damn it! “What-?”
A burst of something hit Marian right in the face, shutting her up. Her face, her chest, her stomach, her… whole thing. She felt wet. Literally wet. Wet and warm. And sticky. The gash on her thigh felt like she was being stabbed again. Only… smaller, this time. The skin—and the skin around her other, smaller gashes—felt like it was being pulled tight. Stitched up. She could hear Merrill chanting something that sounded like sorry over and over again.
After a few moments, though, the stabbing didn’t hurt. It felt… nice. Like little needles relieving all the pain and pressure in her body, even if her skin was still being pinched—pulled, maybe?—beneath her clothes and her armor.
Her eyes closed. She let out a sigh of relief.
Merrill smacked her in the face.
Ow. She opened her eyes again.
Peering down at her was the horrible worried, wet face of Merrill. She was splattered with blood that obscured her tattoos in places. She looked like she’d been crying.
Marian groaned. She sat up. She was still dizzy, but… better. It faded faster. She reached up and ruffled Merrill’s hair. She’d lost her gauntlets at some point. Shit. I really should go look for those, she thought. But first- “I’m alright,” she said, flashing Merrill a tired smile.
“You are?” Merrill’s eyes were wide. She reached up and wiped some tears from her cheeks. Her hands were covered in blood.
Marian nodded. “Sore are can be, but-”
Merrill wrapped her arms around Marian. “Oh, thank the Creators!” She cried. “I hadn’t any idea if that would work!”
Marian hugged her back, giving her a few small pats on her small, shaking back. “You healed me, huh?” She paused. Oh. “With… blood magic?”
Merrill squeezed her tighter. “You can be as cross with me as you like, but I don’t know any other healing spells, and I couldn’t just sit around and hope you didn’t bleed yourself silly before we got to Kirkwall! You’re my friend, Hawke, and-” She took a short, shallow breath. “I know it’s only been a few short months, but I mean it! I’ve not had many friends before, and I know I’ve said that before, and I know I might be moving along quickly, but-” She took another breath. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
Marian blinked. Her head was still foggy, but she wasn’t so close to death that she hadn’t caught a word. “Friends don’t let friends bleed out,” she said. She nodded. She’d never really had friends before, either, but it seemed like a good rule. She’d spent a long time patching up Betty and Carver and following the rule. She’d only forgotten once. She swallowed. “Good rule,” she said. “Great rule. Best rule I’ve ever heard.”
Merrill pulled back a little from the hug. Her ears were red-tipped, flicking and sticking straight out. “Oh, thank the Creators!” She let out a sigh of relief. “Even if I had to use blood magic to do it?”
“Did you really use blood magic healing for the first time?” Marian smiled. “On me?”
Merrill nodded her head. She looked a little shy to admit it. “I hoped you weren’t too different from the Eluvian. Patching-up-wise.”
Marian let out an ooh of interest. “Oh, that’s brilliant! You’re brilliant!”
Merrill flushed pink. “Really?”
“Really!” Marian laughed louder. It made her chest hurt, but not nearly as bad as it would have without Merrill. “Oh, Maker’s breath, everything aches,” she groaned.
“Well,” Merrill suggested, settled well into Marian’s lap, “now that you’re not bleeding out, I’m not so opposed to resting a while.”
Marian didn’t need to be told twice. She flopped down onto the grass, taking Merrill with her. There were still a good several hours of daylight left, a perfect amount of time to get some light shut-eye so long as Merrill didn’t whack her out of it again. Merrill rolled off of her, but she snuggled against Marian’s side. As much as she loved a good cuddle, it was probably for the best—Marian was bruised to the Black City and back, and her armor absolutely wasn’t a featherbed.
Maybe, she thought, staring up at the slowly drifting clouds, it could be worth it to try another time. She flushed pink. Merrill was a friend—they’d just discussed it—and cuddles were… Well, there weren’t any rules that girl friends couldn’t cuddle. They were cuddling right now. She and Betty cuddled all the time. And, her mind supplied, there’s no rules that girl friends can’t do blood magic on each other, either. That felt wrong, but she hadn’t been to the Chantry enough lately to remember any sermon about it.
“I lost my gauntlets,” she blurted out.
“Oh, my!” Merrill moved to sit up. “They were nice, we should-”
“In a while!” Marian forced herself to take a breath. Be calm, Hawke. “I mean, all the bandits are dead, right? Who’s gonna steal them now?”
Merrill giggled. “That’s an excellent point,” she agreed, settling back against Marian’s side. She patted Marian’s blood-sticky head with a similarly-sticky hand. “I’ll keep watch for any more bandits,” she said. “You really should rest, Hawke. Busy day.”
“Busy day,” Marian agreed. “Maker, Merrill, thank you.” She closed her eyes. Everything smelled like blood and springtime. “You’re the best. Love you.”
Merrill let out another soft, songbird-y laugh. “Awe, I love you, too, Hawke.” She made a happy little noise as she snuggled close. “Rest up.”
Maybe she did need to be told twice. But not a third. Far too cozy for a third.