thehungrycity

Title: Of soup and gossip
Fandom: Dragon Age
Rating: M
Length: 1352 words
Content notes: No warnings apply.
Author notes: Written for the 'gossip' challenge in fan_flashworks and the 'compare and contrast' prompt in genprompt_bingo.
Summary: Sara shares a meal, and some intimate details of her relationship, with Merrill.

***

"Soooo... tell me about the sex," Merrill said in her usual lilting tone.

Sara nearly spat out her tea. Merrill didn't even pause in her vegetable chopping.

"I... uh... what...?" Sara said, very articulately. Up until that point their conversation had been unremarkable. She wasn't sure what had turned Merrill's mind onto this particular topic. She would have expected it from Izzy.

"You know," Merrill said, gesturing in the air with her alarmingly large knife. "What are they like under the blankets?" She paused and gave Sara a piercing look. "Do they treat you well?"

Sara blinked hard. But yes, she was really having this conversation with Merrill. She looked down at where her hands were cradling the chipped mug and could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. She needed more than a cup of tea. But Merrill was just continuing to chop root vegetables on the other side of the small table, as though she had asked about the weather.

Sara swallowed, took a deep breath. "They... ummm... Yes, they do treat me well," she said in the direction of the mug. She unconsciously licked her lips, heart quickening, as she thought of their activities the night before.

"Good," Merrill said, in a tone that made Sara concerned for their welfare had she answered otherwise. Merrill continued more lightly, "What are they like when you're alone with them? I find it hard to imagine. They're such sticks in the mud during the day."

Sara couldn't help but smile at Merrill's characterisation, and the face she made to illustrate it, even though Sara thought they had been loosening up remarkably since their relationship had come out into the open. Just the other night, at the Hanged Man, Fenris had thrown his arm around her in the kind of casual display of affection she had previously only associated with Anders - or Izzy.

It was such a relief that they weren't trying to hide it anymore. The pride and pleasure she felt in their company had been threatening to bubble out every time they had gone to the Hanged Man. It had been an effort to try to act like Fenris was not coming to her and Anders' bed every night. Now, she didn't need to - and somewhat surprisingly, given his usual reticence, Fenris seemed to appreciate that he could demonstrate his affection too.

Merrill paused in her chopping, and Sara realised that she had been lost in thought. What had she asked? Oh, what they were like when alone with her. It was difficult to answer. Not so different to how they were in company - softer. Some of the sharp edges they wore to keep others at bay were blunted. But Merrill had probably meant in a more intimate fashion...

"Ummm..." she stalled, feeling unsure of how to begin, or how much detail Merrill really wanted. "Not so different," she said. "Anders is... experienced, and enthusiastic. Fenris is... focused, and passionate."

Sara stopped, feeling the heat in her cheeks, and like she might have already said too much and embarrassed herself. Merrill hadn't resumed her chopping, and was looking at her with a slightly pitying look. She wanted to crawl under the table, but what Merrill said was:

"I'm not a child, lethal'lan." She put the knife down next to the half-chopped swede. "Back in the Clan, there were those who would occasionally share blankets with me. You can talk to me as a confidant, you know."

Sara flushed even deeper. She hadn't really spoken to anyone before about the intimate aspects of her life. Beth was too young, her mother would never have approved, Varric and Aveline preferred not to think about it, while Izzy would let everyone know. But here was Merrill, asking.

Merrill took up the knife again. "So which one's bigger?" she asked back in the same neutral tone, as though asking Sara to compare the price of goods at the market.

"Merrill!" Sara exclaimed, startled out of her thoughts.

"What?" Merrill said, looking up with wide eyes that Sara was almost certain were being put on for her benefit.

Sara grinned, which bubbled up into laughter. After a moment, Merrill joined in.

"Well, they kind of both are," she admitted, once their mirth had died down. "Depending on what you mean... Anders is... fuller, and Fenris... longer."

Some tension in Merrill's shoulders seemed to relax. "Who's the better lover?" she asked as she picked up the chopping board and took it over to the tiny wood stove sitting on the cabinet by the open window. She used the knife to push the chopped vegetables into the bubbling pot of water sitting on top.

Sara shrugged. "They're different," she said.

"Oh?" Merrill said, returning to the table and putting some kind of aromatic herb on her board. "How so?"

"Anders is... always so self-controlled. He likes to put his skills to use, and I enjoy it, but... sometimes I wish he would give himself over to it more. While Fenris, he... he loses himself. Sometimes even seems to forget Trade and starts speaking Tevene instead. He is probably... not as... experienced, I guess... but he makes up for it in passion."

Sara was starting to warm to her subject. She leaned in closer, her elbows on the table.

"Sometimes, Anders like to watch Fenris and I," she said in a voice pitched low, "But Fenris always wants to be involved if he's there. Fenris... likes to always be physically in control, but doesn't seem to mind following orders, and Anders likes to tell him what to do."

"And what do you like?" Merrill asked, scrutinising her even as she was finely chopping the herb, making Sara concerned for her fingers.

"Me?" Sara said. She felt herself flush again. She hesitated again before she spoke.

"Both of them," she said, her voice barely a whisper, as though someone might be crouched outside Merrill's window, listening. "At the same time," she added, flushing. She looked down, not really wanting to see Merrill's reaction.

When Merrill spoke, there was kindness in her tone. "You know, there are bel'lath'elan among the People. 'People of many loves.' It's not shameful, nor is your enjoyment of them."

"You have a name for it?" Sara said, looking up. Merrill was looking at her with a kind smile.

"Oh yes," Merrill said. "Some say that Sylaise, Andruil, and June were bel'lath'elan."

The names didn't mean anything to Sara. But the idea that relationships like hers could be an accepted part of society did.

"I... I love them," she said, feeling tears unexpectedly well up in her eyes. "Both of them. They're so different, and I love them both for exactly who they are. And when we are together... it feels like my heart is whole."

She blinked heavily, trying to disperse the tears without them spilling over. Merrill only smiled again.

"Sylaise enaste mala aravel¹," she said, before taking the herb over to the stove and adding it to the pot. "Dinner will be about half an hour," she said over her shoulder, and the conversation naturally moved on.

Later that evening, after they had sopped up the last of the soup with the bread Sara had brought - Sara was convinced that the bread available in Lowtown contained an unreasonable amount of sawdust - Merrill brought it up again.

"I just wanted to say thank you," she said. "For talking with me. Really talking with me, instead of treating me like I know nothing about the world, like everyone else does."

Sara shrugged uncomfortably. "It was actually nice to talk to someone about that kind of stuff. I... haven't really had someone that I could share that with before."

Merrill smiled brightly then, and flooded forward to hug her.

"It's so nice having a friend," she said.

"I agree," said Sara, and kissed the top of Merrill's dark hair. "Goodnight, Merrill."

"Say hi to Fenris and Anders for me!" Merrill called out as Sara stepped out into the darkness of the Alienage.

Endnotes

1. May Sylaise bless your journey - an adaptation of the first phrase of Dalish wedding vows. Back