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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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4. Asunder

I'd never really liked the guy. If I was being honest, it started a few days after I met Isabela, I'd introduced the two of them. They'd both laughed merrily and Isabela held out her hands. "I've always thought of him as half-and-a-half, but if you prefer I'll call him Varric."

Before you start making judgments about how quickly I become jealous, I was mostly just peeved by their laughing. But he was such a slimy bastard. I mean, he's nice. He takes care of Merrill, though I really don't think he should; he's loyal, and quite a hoot at 3am after a bottle of wine. But I kept butting heads with the guy. The Bartrand situation didn't help. I think if I lived a thousand years I would always regret going on that Deep Roads expedition more than anything in my life.

And now we find out that Varric's brother didn't exactly sell the artifact that he betrayed us for in the Deep Roads. I hated Bartrand with a passion, but to see him in their estate, possessed by the artifact, was so pitiful I could hardly stand it. He was also verifiably insane.

It was my hate that compelled me to tell Varric to leave him alive. "I killed Bethany to stop her suffering. This dwarf doesn't deserve the mercy."

Varric looked at me, eyes narrowed in some mysterious emotion. "You're right," he said finally. "He is my brother, after all. I suppose I'll just take care of him."

"Sure," I shrugged, turning away. Isabela went to comfort him, and I left, feeling like the mansion was squeezing me. Seeing Bartrand brought the Deep Roads expedition back to me with a vengeance, and once again I cursed my decision to bring her. My little sister - so eager for adventure, so brave... so innocent. Bethany died a virgin, and all these years I blamed Bartrand, for sealing us away, for forcing us to find a much longer way back. I wondered if I should blame the artifact now. Or myself.

Isabela came to me that night, slipping under my covers and waking me from a light slumber. I opened my robe, and she pressed her naked body against mine, kissing me deep and slow. I'd never have guessed she could be so gentle.

When it was over, for the last time, I whispered sleepily into her ear, "I should have let you bring her to the Blooming Rose."

She giggled. "No harm no foul."

I jerked back to look at her. "What's that supposed to mean?" It came out like a statement. An angry one.

"Remind me what the bird said when the rock told it not to fly?"

"You didn't." She giggled again, settling in to my arms. After a while I said, "I'm not a rock." A bit later, "Was it a man or a woman?"

I woke alone, again. I wondered if I'd ever get used to it.

*    *     *     *

My uncle came to the estate and told me I should stop "slipping it in the whore from the Hanged Man," saying it was a disgrace to our family and to my mother's memory. I told him he had no right to speak of disgrace, and that henceforth he should not enter our family home without my permission. What scum.

What's funny is it took him five months to figure it out. Five months of glorious, free, and passionate rutting wherever we found ourselves when the need arose. Once we fucked in the Chantry, and a few times in the viscount's garden. We fucked in chains and with toys, a few times with a whore from the Blooming Rose (Isabela had the year paid beforehand). I won't give you all the details; I'm sure you get the idea.

Anyway, the day after my uncle confronted me, I rallied the troops to attack that dragon my business partner said was terrorizing our mine. I wouldn't have brought Varric, but Isabela suggested him, saying that dwarves know a lot more about dragons than the rest of us.

"I guess they're pretty big, too," I commented, and at her apparent confusion I elaborated, "In bed."

"Average, actually," she corrected.

"'Hand and a half?"

"Oh!" She started giggling, and then she was laughing, and then she was crying, tears of mirth dripping down her cheeks. I snuggled closer to her, feeling oddly embarrassed.

Finally she calmed herself. "The first time I met the guy, we got to talking about bastard swords. He roundly insisted on calling them hand-and-a-half swords, and then I called him a bastard, and next thing you know I'm calling him hand and a half. It's just funny because... because everybody thinks its sexual, but it's not!" She started laughing again.

"Oh," I said. I brought Varric.

*     *      *     *

"I'm going to die!" Isabela said, drowning out Aveline's apparently vital problem.

I had eyes only for my love. "What's happening, Isabela?" I said slowly.

"Remember the relic? The one Castillon is going to kill me over? A man called Wall-Eyed Sam has it." She looked at me, almost pleading.

"I'm trying to stop the whole city from revolting against the Qunari!" Aveline broke in, glaring at Isabela.

Isabela averted her gaze. "Well... maybe it's connected. I'm just saying, maybe it will help. It's important to someone, right?"

"Now you start being responsible? Shit," Aveline said. "Why you put up with her, Hawke..."

"How long have the elves been with the Qunari?"

"Three days."

"A few more hours won't hurt," I said.

She threw up her arms. "I can't believe you trust her!" I wondered how much of this was Aveline wondering if my judgment was impaired by the sex.

"Me either," Isabela shrugged. "Come on. The exchange is happening in two hours, and we should gather the others."

*     *     *     *

No Isabela at the Hanged Man. Certainly no Isabela in my bed. She was gone.

Best for everyone? How could she say that running away with her precious relic would benefit anyone but herself? I was devastated, enraged, incredulous. The pirate with the heart of gold, but when push came to shove she looked out for herself, ignoring the heated tensions in the city that were on the verge of eruption. The Quinari - no wonder they stayed in the city. No wonder Isabela made herself scarce whenever I went to speak with them! Her old boss was trying to screw with Quinari! What a woman. What a scoundrel. What a... what a rogue.

I didn't really blame her for lying about the artifact, although I wish she'd told me. Last week when she said she might one day trust me, I took it to mean that she already did. That was foolish, I admit it. The sex, the tattoo... the care she'd been treating me with for the last month... It was all so awfully misleading. I know she didn't mean to string me out -

Who am I fooling? This was the woman who just ran away from my life, probably forever, leaving only a note and a dead body. String me out? Is that really the worst you can think of her?

The shit hit the fan, and the Quinari attempted to take control of the city, saying that we would all be much better off if we submitted to their damn Qun. I'm okay with the guys, but I'm NOT okay with them trying to chose our fates for us. So I found myself slaughtering them, working my way through the city with death in my wake with an aching heart. At some point the ache went away, replaced by a fiery rage. I cut my way through the monstrous creatures, glorying in their agony. Was this what I would become, having lost everything? Filled with rage and the urge to destroy, having lost my moral compass completely.

The ghosts of my mother and siblings looked on. I told them silently that Mother was the last thing I could stand to lose.

Aveline watched me, her brow furrowing in worry.

And then the templar Knight Commander showed up, and some high mage guy, Orsino? The mage took it upon himself to distract the gate guards so we could make our way into the Keep without endangering the noble captives the Qunari took.

So I found myself face-to-face with their hulking leader, Arishok, begging him to see reason with an empty heart. Here's the thing with these folks: they're not big with the practical side of life. But then I heard a voice from heaven, and turned to see Isabela, looking somewhat smug as she considered me, before turning to the Arishok. "I'm sure you'll find it... mostly undamaged," she said, handing a very thick tome over to him.

I drank her in with my eyes, the vision of a woman I never expected to see again. All of my rage fled me, leaving only dumb delight.

She addressed me. "It took a while to get back, what with all the fighting everywhere. You know how it is."

"Heroic acts of sacrifice? What will people say?" I laughed outright, and I saw her expression soften, unconsciously betraying her relief.

"This is your damned influence, Hawke. I was halfway to Ostwick before I knew I had to turn around. It's pathetic." She sounded like she was kicking herself for it. I wanted to gather her up in my arms and prove to her that she'd made the right decision.

I was a moment away from losing all sense of reason and doing so, before the Arishok spoke, interrupting our moment. "The relic is reclaimed. I am now free to return to Par Vollen - with the thief."

My heart lept to my throat. "What?" Isabela and I said simultaneously.

"She stole the Tome of Koslun. She must return with us."

"That's where you're wrong. You have your relic now. Get out of here."

"Then you leave me no choice. I challenge you, Hawke. You and I will battle to the death, with her as the prize."

I opened my mouth to accept the challenge, but Isabela cut in. "No! If you're going to duel anyone, duel me!"

I was torn between the desire to laugh at her excitement over dueling, fear for her safety, and stupid protectiveness. I stepped in front of her, but Arishok spoke first. "You are not basalit-an. You are unworthy."

The relief was overwhelming. "I accept your challenge," I said.

I engaged with him immediately, but he was far stronger and tougher than I, his two huge blades cutting deep through my armor. I retreated, and began dancing, provoking him to charge at me and then stabbing him in the back as he was recovering. We both took health potions. I was tired, and he seemed bloodied, so I finally engaged him head-to-head and destroyed him.

As he lay dying, the only emotion I could muster was relief. He shouted to his Quinari, "Leave now! Our responsibility here is through." With that, he collapsed.

I looked for Isabela. She vaulted off the edge of the balcony, running to me.

But she didn't reach out, stopping a pace away from me and looking at me with an unreadable expression. "I couldn't let you fight him," I finally said.

"You're a fool."

I took a deep breath, staggering a little. It appeared that my rib cage wasn't fully intact. "You're a hero now. How does it feel?"

"You're the hero. Don't you hear them cheering you?"

I glanced around, only then noticing the nobles on the balcony, who were shying away from the retreating horde of Qunari but would undoubtedly be upon us at any moment.

"It's you that made the choice. You saved Kirkwall, and probably hundreds of lives. The Qunari are finally gone."

"I didn't do it for them. I did it for you. It was always about you," she said, so low that nobody else could hear.

"Then why are you standing so far away?"

"Because I have to leave again."

I stood there, trying to process the words. They made no sense. Didn't she just say she did it for me? "Do you mean you're going to leave me?"

"You've never had me, Hawke!" She seemed almost angry.

I took another deep breath to fight the rising bile, ignoring the splitting pain the motion engineered in my chest. It wasn't the worst pain I'd felt that day. She started following the Qunari out the door.

"Wait!" I said quickly, reaching out but not touching her. "Why are you leaving?"

She just shrugged and turned away.

*     *     *     *

I'd like to say I spent my first two years as Kirkwall's "Champion" vanquishing evil, defending the innocent, and fucking beautiful maidens. The truth is, I spent most of it tramping about the Planasene forest by myself, collecting bear head trophies. There wasn't any real reason to be there. But I found comfort in the solitude. There are some beautiful things in that forest, and it was nice to be somewhere that... well... there was no good or evil, nor decisions to be made. Once I was gone for two months. I got lost often, and I started to know my way around a bow of necessity. Eventually the cloud cover lifted, I saw the sun, and I made my way back to the city.

Everyone thought it was ridiculous, not the least of whom was Varric. "You're really torn up about the whole Isabela thing, aren't you?" he said once. "Do you need anyone to talk to?" I declined as politely as I could, and escaped.

Only Fenris seemed to understand. It was nice, because it meant he didn't speak to me at all. Aveline was so involved in Donnic that she, too, barely acknowledged me. Far better than the inane chattering of Merrill, who insisted that she was equally heartbroken. Selfish bitch. Anders didn't annoy me, but I learned to stop listening to him, realizing it was pointless. Anyhow, he was so involved in finding incriminating evidence against the Knight Commander that it wasn't really an issue. Once I warned him that if he spent four hours every day speaking with Orsino, they'd catch him up in their net when Meridith made her bid for power. He shrugged as if to say, "Maybe that's where I'd like to be."

Once, though, the whole group of them banded together to throw an impromptu celebration in my honor. It was the anniversary of the day I killed Arishok, and they really decked out my house. I tried to enjoy it, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't help but remember that it meant Isabela had been gone for an entire year. Where was she? What was she doing? Who was she doing?

Why did she leave?
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