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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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5. Debauchery

It was deep into the night, and I was well and truly drunk. The bottle of gin Varric, Anders and I were sharing was down to its last dregs, and I hammered hard on the table with a mug and called, "Wench! Wench, we require... we require your services!" I then doubled over in howling laughter, laying my head on the table to stop the spinning as I continued chuckling.

Anders put his hand heavily across my shoulders. "Whyzit that it's got to be wenches, Stevan?"

I raised my head and glowered at him weakly. "How many times you taken it up the ass, Anders?"

Varric cut in. "We could do a see-judge! You know you can tell!"

"Huh?" I stared at him stupidly.

"If you look at their ass! You can tell if they've taken it!"

"I haven't taken it!" Anders protested loudly, standing up abruptly and knocking the table a foot forward. I hooted and slammed my tankard down on the table again, before looking up and realizing that anyone in the main room probably couldn't hear me from the depths of Varric's "study."

"Igottafinder," I said, standing up in turn. I looked blearily at Anders, and then stumbled past him, grabbing the door frame as I pivoted around the corner.

To stop dead in my tracks. It couldn't be Isabela, standing there with such attitude in her hips, deep in conversation with the barkeep. I squinted, trying to stop the world from spinning. The hair tie was different. The ass was... amazing. Yes, that was the dagger she called "Even," slung across her back.

I registered that she'd turned her head toward me. Was she looking at me? I backed up, right back into Varric's room. The boys were deep in conversation. I think they were talking about lesbians.

I sat heavily at the other side of the table, my pulse hammering. The dregs of gin. I gulped them down eagerly.

"Varric?" I said as casually as I could.

"Yes, Champ-dyke?"

"Isabela isn't around, is she?"

"No, Champ-dyke. But I know a really pretty girl named Marie..." I shook my head. "She's desperate to meet you!"

"I think she's back. I saw her."

Varric shot a worried look at Anders. "That was someone else, Hawke. Isabela's not coming back. But here, look, do you want some water? Maybe I should walk you back to your place..."

Anders stumbled up and ducked around the corner. I ignored Varric, looking after Anders.

He reappeared a moment later, pale. "She's coming!" He dove into his chair and attempted to look innocent. I would have found this hilarious if not for the gravity of the situation.

There she was, heaving bosom, grand gold necklace, and all. She came forward and sat down at the head of the table, across from Varric. She leaned forward, giving a great view. We all gaped.

"Why wasn't I invited?" she said, when it was obvious we weren't about to say anything.

"Isabela," Varric said, putting his hands on the table as if he, too, was trying to stop it from moving under him. "We didn't have your address. See, we sent out these wee cards."

"You're all drunk as weasels," she commented.

"I didn't do it for me!" Anders burst out. "A good cause, really good reason, I mean, a fr - OW!" He winced.

"Look, Izzy," Varric said. "Since when is a few friends sharing a bottle of gin a crime?"

She shrugged. "Anything exciting happen while I was gone? Slay a few more dragons, maybe a some big ole demons?"

I couldn't stop myself. I laughed, a short bark. "Oh yeah. Glorious adventures in your absence, I'm sure."

She looked at me, and every molecule of my being yearned for her. I must have leaned, because Varric grabbed my shoulder and pulled me upright again. "Everything's quiet in Kirkwall," Varric said reassuringly.

"We are under the brutal reign of a dictator!" Anders proclaimed loudly. Me and Varric sushed him.

Isabela raised an eyebrow at that. "I can see that your enthusiasm is infectious."

"You and your glib tongue aren't wanted here!" Anders was standing again, and shouting. Isabela looked suprised. Maybe even hurt. "It is unjust for you to leave for more than two years, and... and waltz back in here as if we should pretend you never left! Do you have any conception of the wounds your absence has torn in the heart of Kirkwall's champion? You are unworthy of any title but betrayer and misanthrope!" His eyes flashed blue.

She stood. "Right. I'll see you all later."

When she was gone, Anders sat back down, and then picked up the bottle and raised it to his lips.

"Anders," I said.

He glared at me. "No more gin left."

"It's not her fault. She was clear about what she had in mind. I'm the one out of line."

"She should never have come back," he said.

"I guess you're right," I said, applauding myself at my subtlety. "I'm going home."

"I'll walk you," Varric volunteered. I paused, trying to figure out a way to un-enthusiastically refuse.

"I'm fine. I've got my sword." I patted the monstrosity on my back comfortingly.

He shrugged and collapsed back into his chair. I guess he wasn't as sober as I thought. So I walked to the main room. She was sitting at a table, speaking with old Mr. Flowerpot.

I'd been planning on sitting next to her, but when she turned and looked at me approach I was overwhelmed by her eyes. Throwing all dignity and caution to the wind, I took her face in my hands, and -

She lept up and backed away from me. "Drunk Hawke. Hey. I remember you."

I took a few steps toward her. "Please," is all I could think to say.

"No," she said simply.

"Just sex," I said, trying to lower my voice, the alcohol emboldening me.

"It's never just sex with you," she said softly.

I took the tone of her voice with me all the way home.

*     *     *     *

We'd fucked for like eight months. It didn't seem like that long at the time. It didn't seem odd that we had sex sometimes every night of those eight months. It wasn't surprising that she'd started staying the night, that when we awoke I sometimes found her just looking at my face.

I never outright said, "I love you." But I wanted her, so deep to my core that it sometimes left me breathless. I wanted her in me, and I wanted in her - I wanted to hold her all night and feel her breathing in my arms - I wanted to walk the streets of Kirkwall and buy her pretty things, feast her on fine rich foods and kiss her greasy lips - I wanted to see her on the other side of a foe, dealing the final blow and then just smiling at me as he fell to the ground, blood smeared on her face.

I'd spent two years in the forest so I could simply move, simply act - simply live. I hadn't thought about her. But I spent the day after seeing her again with a horrible headache and a great emptiness in my heart. I think I could only feel it because, for a few moments, it had been filled. Last night.

I hadn't blacked out any of the night, and I wondered if that was a blessing or a curse.

Finally I mustered my courage (and possibly stupidity) and dressed. I wouldn't push it. I wouldn't ever ask her for sex again. It was impossible to know why she was here, so I needed to ask. I also needed to see her. I schooled myself about staring as I meandered through the streets, murmurs of "Champion" following me as I went.

She was at the bar, as usual. "Enjoying the new batch of whiskey flavored with rat droppings?" I said casually.

Isabela tossed back another cup of the stuff. "They used to do it better," she said.

"That's because I gave the barkeep a kitten last year."

She laughed, seemingly despite herself. "You can't be serious."

I dropped myself at the stool next to her. "Neither has the whiskey gotten any better. I do have a cat now, though."

"That's precious," she said, eying me. "Are you the champion people keep mentioning?"

I weighed my options. "I don't believe I've heard of that person," I said. "But then, I don't get out much these days."

She rolled her eyes and called for some more whiskey. I accepted theirs, but produced my own bottle and poured some of my own into her mug. "Accept my gift: genuine Orlasian whiskey."

Her eyes lit up, but her expression quickly became guarded. "I'm concerned about Anders. Is he still nursing that crush?"

"Anders is fine," I said, maybe a bit more sharply than I'd meant. She wasn't really asking about Anders, she was asking about me. She was asking if what he said was true. I hated them both. "I barely see him anymore."

"Oh yeah?" She grimaced and shot the whiskey I'd given her. "Oh god, Hawke, that's amazing." Her tone made my belly stir with desire. I quenched it as thoroughly as I could. No staring.

I shrugged and refilled her mug. "I try."

"I'd never have pegged you for the glory-seeking type," she said abruptly.

"Isabela, it was your victory, not mine. Varric won't listen to me. He's spread these crazy stories, I can't make him stop."

"Bullshit. You could've stormed that Keep and slaughtered all those Qunari if you had to. You should've. It was damn fool of me to come back."

My heart swelled, but I crushed the feeling. "It was damn fool of you to take off. Both times. It was the right thing, coming back."

"Why? So I can resume my place at your right hand, doing your dirty work and feeling lucky that you'll take a lying, thieving snake like me?" She pushed away from the bar and stood, her movements aggressive.

"You know I don't think of you like that." I love you, I wanted to say. Isabela, won't you be mine?

She scoffed, and then remembered the whiskey. She snatched up her mug and downed the next shot, closing her eyes in ecstasy. I took the opportunity to speak, before she was gone. "You don't have to live that life anymore, Isabela."

"It's the only one I know," she said, and then she walked away. I figured staring would be okay.

*    *     *     *

"Oh, hello Hawke." Merrill opened her front door to me, radiating hesitation.

"Hawke," Isabela said from inside. God was she beautiful.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were here." I shifted my feet awkwardly, halfway in and halfway out.

"Not a problem. I was just leaving."

"Oh." I let her gather her things, but before she made good on her promise I said, "I'm just asking people to come with me by the Wounded Coast, it seems there's a bandit problem."

"Hawke, you lead a most interesting life." She sighed. "Hell, why not? I'll come along. I love spitting down at those damn rocks." Her ship had crashed on the Wounded Coast, I remembered.

I smiled hesitantly at her, and she avoided my eyes. "Okay, so we're meeting midmorning tomorrow."

She left without another word.

I tried another smile, this time on Merrill. She was pacing, and now that I was looking I saw the tracks of tears on her face. Had Isabela... ? No.

"Is everything alright, Merrill?"

"No!" she burst out. "I am a horrible beast, a worthless being..."

"That's not true," I said unconvincingly.

She stood finally in front of her precious mirror. "I should have done this long ago," she said, and took a hammer to it.

It almost shocked me out of my torpor. The mirror that she held up as the best way of recovering her people's heritage? Did she seriously just break it?

I touched her shoulder. "You made the right decision."

She suddenly turned and buried her face in my chest, sobbing. I patted her awkwardly, wondering what Isabela had said.

*    *     *     *

We established an uneasy understanding: Isabela would come with me to kill things, and I would pretend that all was right with the world. My task was made easier by the fact that things started happening in Kirkwall, things that needed my attention, and more relevantly, the business end of my extremely large sword. It almost felt like old times, when I'd just been released from vassaldom. The only difference now was that I didn't send Isabela ahead to scout just so I could watch her ass as I followed.

I was returning from a meeting with my business partner about the mine one day. As I entered the mansion, she was flipping through the papers on my working desk, remarking at them. She completely ignored the sound of the door closing behind me.

"Find anything incriminating?" I asked, steeling my heart and walking up to her.

She turned, and as always it was a shock when her eyes settled upon me. I cursed myself for a weakling. "My suspicions have been confirmed. Were I to try to blackmail you, the worst I could do is accuse you of setting food out for stray dogs."

"I don't do that!"

"Then it's truly hopeless," she chuckled, and then her eyes became solemn. "Hawke... I need to ask for your help."
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