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Softly	By : chipperdyke Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 11471 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I bow to gods of BioWare and offer a humble tribute to the awesome. I don't own Dragon Age II, they do. I profit not, though my dildo perhaps does.

Chapter List
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2. Reconsidering

"It's a tattoo," Anders informed me. "Ugh, poorly done at that. It looks... looks like a skull and crossbones, with a necklace and... a pair of daggers? Did Isabela do this to you?" I smiled sadly at him, completely drained. "That girl is... really... something," he said finally. "Well, I'll just patch it up then?"

I hesitated. "Can you keep the... uh... ink in?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "You are a strange woman," he remarked. "No, nothing but natural healing will do that."

I thought about this, then shook my head. "Don't. Do you have a salve, or something to keep the pain down?"

"Uhhh... sure." He dug around in a chest for long enough for me to remember how, bare days after we first met, he made a move on me. I'd shut him down, and he'd become one of my best friends, but I could never really shake the feeling that he was watching my back, in more ways than one.

"Here," he offered a jar. "I can apply it for you if you like?" I nodded, and turned away from him again so he could start working.

"The only other option is those dwarves, and... I mean, they're nice and all, but I... I'd be worried that they'd take it the wrong way." I hoped he caught on to my double meaning.

His touch was gentle, a healer's touch. I allowed myself to regret my utter rejection of "the spear" for a moment; what a different sort of lover he would be, far kinder than Isabela.

He finished and stepped around, winking at me. "Anyway, you want only the best." And funny, too.

* * * *

It'd been a week, and I was in a fever, laying on my stomach in my great bed. The fever had started with my anger at what felt like a betrayal, confusion over what she'd done to me, self-loathing at what I had stooped to. I vacillated between hating myself for putting my foot down, and hating her for a slimy, heartless whore. Should I have fought her off? Refused her punishment? Aveline was right, I thought often. And then I decided to fuck every woman who'd take me, as revenge, to boost my ego, to make the pain go away. And the next moment all I could feel were her eyes, honey-golden. She was a kind woman at heart, and I could not convince myself otherwise.

After a few days it was apparent that the fever was something else, too, but by then I had sunk into such depths of hatred that I spoke to no-one. But on the sixth day, I heard a step on the stairs that was certainly not a dwarf's.

The door creaked as it opened, something I always appreciated. Light steps came to the bed.

"Rise and shine, Hawke! It's a beautiful day."

No. It couldn't be her. Had the fever really progressed this far?

She flung open the window shades, and the sun blinded me. I moaned and hid my face from it.

"Seriously. This is no day to sleep in," she continued, and then broke into a sing-songy tune. "Today's the day/ you've gotta be brave/ race the wind along your way/ it's time to face the - Now, I could never remember this part. Lay? Bay? Day, maybe, but that just seems cheap."

She sighed. "Look, nobody's really seen you since, like, a week ago. If you've found a new puppet, that's all real great but at least let us know you're alright."

I mumbled through the pillows, "Go away, bitch."

"Oh, now that almost hurt." I could feel the bed shift; she'd sat on the side of it. She patted my back.

The worst agony of my life. I screamed into the pillow, curling up. She jumped away. "Oh shit," she said, breathless. "I just thought... Anders wouldn't even speak to me, I figured...."

I clutched the pillow, tears streaming.

Finally, when it was obvious I wasn't going to respond, she said, "Can I see it?"

I took a deep breath and decided to stop being childish. I nodded.

She slowly peeled the shirt off my back, ripping yet another one of my shirts in the process. "Ouch, Hawke. I think some of your skin is green."

I laughed a little at this. The tears had fed a mounting hysteria, checked only by the shreds of my dignity. But she came. Of everyone who might have... Isabela came. I didn't think it was unreasonable to be happy.

"Can we get Anders in here?" she said worriedly. "Normally I'd say fuck the system, and I do have a few salves, but... this is so out of my league."

I turned to look at her then, and she'd changed her clothes. I mean, I'm pretty sure she changes shirts sometimes, but a whole bunch of things were different: she got a corset, she'd added a metal shoulder-plate... "What's with the retrofit?" I said blearily.

"What?" The realization that I was probably delirious washed across her face, but she recovered quickly and reexamined my question. "Oh. I thought it was time for a new shirt."

A smile tugged at my lips at that. "Give me a kiss before you go?" I whispered.

She hesitated, and kissed me softly on the lips. I closed my eyes and tried to memorize the feeling of her lips on mine, all reason falling away. "I won't be a jealous lover," I said, not able to stop myself. "I... we could have a system, you come over here when you want me, I steer clear of the Hanged Man as much as possible..." I opened my eyes to see her standing by the bed, inscrutable. "It just made me a little crazy, to see, but if I can't see..."

"I think we'll hold off on the negotiations until you're cleared by our resident do-gooder, honey," she said slowly. I believe that as she left the room, she'd finally realized something I should have told her the moment we met: I'm completely hopeless.

She reappeared with Anders in what felt like moments, and he started cursing before he crossed the threshold of my room. "Damn stupid stubborn girl," he kept saying as he rummaged.

He applied probably five liquids to my back, some thick and some thin, some of which hurt more than others. After that I think I passed out, and when I came to he was sitting next to my bed. My back throbbed reassuringly.

"Thanks for not healing me," I said, making sure to enunciate.

"Merely my instinct for self-preservation," he assured me dryly. "I think you should be okay, but whatever you do, don't lay on your back. I'd be okay with you walking around, but please don't let anything touch your back for the next four days, which means don't leave the house. I'll come back in two days to check on you."

He left. I sighed, feeling lonely. Then I heard somebody turn the page to a book - in the room.

I whipped my head around. Sure enough, Isabela was sitting with her legs propped up on my desk. "What're you doing here?" I found myself saying.

Isabela sighed, closing the book on a finger. "Haven't got anything better to do than put that damn alcohol of Ander's on your back every two hours until nightfall," she explained impatiently.

Really now, Isabela? Was this her way of saying she was sorry? Did she want me to know she cared? Did she care? I doubted it. But she did come. Or maybe she really did find herself with time on her hands. Impossible.

“Whatcha reading?” I said finally, giving up on my character study. Isabela would do what she wished, and I would either suffer, or… suffer.

“It’s called, ‘Memoirs of a Wealthy Man,’” she informed me, adding unnecessarily, “There’s lots of sex.”

I groaned and turned my head the other way, not relishing the idea of Isabela reading heterosexual porn. “Please don’t say any more.”

She must have gone back to reading, because she didn’t speak again until I guess two hours had passed. She sat on the bed, and put her fingers on my back. They felt cool on my fevered skin. My head was clearer now, maybe because Anders had forced me to drink some water before he left.

Her fingers were unbelievably gentle, and I focused on them as she applied fiery torture to my back. I imagined them, slim and tapered, milk chocolate brown, with ugly calluses all along her thumb and first knuckle. The marks of a woman well used to battle. When had I memorized their look? Surely before we first slept together, a bare two weeks ago.

When she’d finished, she said, “Hawke, when was the last time you ate?”

The pain was blinding. “Please… can you keep touching me?”

She hesitated, and then ran her fingers lightly along the sides of my back. “Love, I never thought you’d want to keep this. It’s… sweet, but very silly.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I’d hoped this wouldn’t come up, because I didn’t really have a good explanation. “Mmmm… learning my lesson,” I said finally.

“A hidden masochistic streak. No wonder you like me.”

“No!” I said quickly, and then tried to pull the explanation out of thin air. Finally, I turned my body so that I could look at her face, again surprised at the new garb.

“I’ve only ever known girls… nice girls, I’m their only secret. I left a few behind in the village, and a few more on the streets of Kirkwall. They were never enough for me. I’m not masochistic, just… um, I want more. I want a woman who can stand her own. Those nights at the Blooming Rose, I bought whores to ride me, although I’m usually… I like… usually…”

“You like it on top,” Isabela provided, unsurprised. “That’s what makes you fun.”

I processed that, and then continued. “I’ll take this tattoo, partially to remember that I am a woman too, and I can… I can hurt like they did. Like they do. Partially because I deserve the pain. Partially for your lesson, a reminder that I shouldn’t rue getting just what I asked for. And partially…” I looked at her eyes then, narrowed in some mysterious emotion. “Partially because I want to be your ship, Isabela. I want you to claim me for your own, just as you have, in more ways than one. I want to be your freedom, not your chains.”

She got up quickly, walking to the window, where a bit of blue sky was visible. “That was almost sickening,” she said, still looking away.

“If you think so, why don’t – “

“Don’t finish that sentence, Hawke.” She faced me. “You can keep the tattoo if you like, but don’t use it against me. I’ll sleep with whomever I wish, but out of your sight.” She sighed and moved to the bed, surprising me by laying down on it, on her side. “You have given me the only meaning I’ve known since I lost the Siren’s Call.” She kissed me lightly. “Can that be enough?”

I smiled and put a hand on the curve between her hips and breast, and returned the kiss. “For now,” I teased, and we spent the next two hours just kissing. I’d never really thought about her kisses before, being I think reasonably distracted by more pressing concerns. Her lips were soft and pliant, sometimes demanding, and sometimes, I found to my surprise, quite happy to receive. It was when she let me take over that I might have accidentally escalated, when I started pulling her body against mine and almost groped her. The first time that happened, she took my hand and set it on the bed between us, and after that I regulated myself.

When two hours had passed, again, she pulled away. I played up the hurt part, and she giggled at my expression, rubbing her lips with her fingers. “This is why I never do that. Damn it, Hawke, it hurts to speak.”

* * * *

After Aveline's extremely pitiful courtship of the guardsman, she insisted that we clear out the Wounded Coast patrol so that she could talk with him. Well, okay, maybe not insisted. Maybe I offered.

Anyway, we found ourselves doing menial outlaw-slapping along the coast, which got Merrill all worked up about some kind of talisman that she needed from the Dalish Keeper. I couldn't give a damn about the talisman, and honestly, all the mystery and the fact that her clan seemed to think she was... well... evil, it was all very fishy and made me uncomfortable. But Isabela seemed to really care about the little elf, in a matronly way, and I figured if anything wierd happened, Merrill would probably take upwards of two seconds to cut in half.

We went to visit the Dalish, and cleared out a ruin for them of some huge creature. The only creepy part was one of the elves, who happened to be there but, for some odd reason, was apeshit scared of our little elfish friend. He chose to die at the hands of the monster, rather than simply speak to Merrill.

So, when we got back to the Dalish camp, and the Keeper said about twenty million times that she thought Merrill was completely an idiot and blind with hunger for power, I turned my back on all the "freedom to chose" aspects of my moral code and didn't let her have the talisman thing. I still have it here, if you want to see it. She was so fucking mad, I think she might have killed me right there if she could. Good thing I had my armor on. I guess she needed it to reclaim her heritage, but it really seemed like her heritage didn't want her. They'd rather die at the hands of a monster than look at her face, I mean... damn.

So anyway, after that we got wrapped up in some other series of caverns, and I destroyed another one of those evil books. Merrill didn't like that either, said it was a horrible waste. She's such a creep.

By the time we got out of all that mess, it was getting dark. We were just right next to the Dalish camp, but I didn't dare ask if we could sleep IN the camp. I figured the area would be pretty safe, though and anyway, a night on the mountain would probably do us all a little good. We bought a few blankets from the elves, set out a campfire, which Anders helped with (Merrill was sulking, predictably), piled on the wood, and settled down for the night.

I was almost asleep when I sensed someone near me, opening my eyes to see Isabela lay her glorious body only a few inches away from mine, facing away. I scooted up to her, pulling my blankets over her, too. Her whole body relaxed into me, which sent my heartrate through the roof. I put my arm over her, loosely cupping her ribs and trying to relax, figuring that if she wanted sex she'd probably be a bit more upfront about it.

"Why didn't you give it to her?" she whispered finally.

My lip twisted. I'd known she would ask, but this was a much nicer way than I was expecting. "See, that's where my own personal freedom to chose gets in the way. I chose to not get fucked in the ass by some elf kid who doesn't know what she's doing. Because whatever she ends up exploding, I'm going to be responsible for cleaning it up."

"It was mean," Isabela observed.

"I do that sometimes," I said. "You would have let her have it?"

"I don't think she's dangerous."

"Ah," I said, and we fell into silence again. I nuzzled her neck after a while, breathing in her scent. Just to make sure that she really didn't want sex, because did I ever. But she didn't respond to my touch, so I backed off and after a while, I dropped off. When I awoke, she was still sleeping in my arms. I counted myself a lucky woman, and tried not to stare too much.
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