A/N: Hello! Here is the final installment in the Sea and Sunshine Trilogy. Drama and angst and no smut ahead, but I am happy with it. Enjoy!
Flight!
"All right, lads! It's time to work!"
Isabela strides onto the deck of her ship, the very act, the very thought, enough to bring a wide smile to her face. The next thing she hears from one of her sailors, however, is enough to wipe it clean off.
"Port authority says we can't leave," one of her boys huffs. She looks to the voice, and sees a handful of the guards that keep the peace on the docks – and who have been a perpetual thorn in the pirate's side – standing with a templar. All have weapons drawn, and the templar wears a triumphant sneer.
"You've got to be kidding me," Hawke hisses, swearing under her breath. "That's Ser Varnell!"
Isabela narrows her eyes. "Listen here, gentlemen. I'm captain of this vessel. That means high priestess, queen, and general all rolled into one. Get the fuck off my ship, now, or there will be blood spilled. And it won't be mine."
"You killed the knight-commander!" Varnell sneers. "And Mother Patrice! There is no way I'm letting you go now!"
"Of for the love of Andraste's bountiful bosom…" Isabela slumps. Varnell grins, a nasty-looking thing on his ugly face, and moves forward. Clearly he thinks she's given up.
He moves behind her, rope in his hands. Isabela catches Hawke's eyes and grins, then moves so she can see her precious Bethany. The mage looks concerned, but knows to follow Isabela's lead. The pirate winks, eliciting a small smile from her lover, and pulls her head forward before yanking it back.
Varnell's nose breaks with a sick yet satisfying crunch. Isabela immediately turns, grabbing his arm and hurling him over her shoulder and onto his back. Pandemonium breaks out, her men and her friends all pulling weapons to deal with the guards, who continue to stand still, not yet reacting to what they've witnessed.
Isabela dances around her sailors, grabbing Bethany and Merrill both and pulling them aside. "If you're going to use magic, do not set fire to my ship!" she shouts, as the fight behind her has immediately surged into a cacophony of shouting, grunting, and clanging weapons.
"Right, ships are incredibly flammable, aren't they?" Merril asks, eyes wide.
"That's right, Kitten," Isabela says, smirking. "Everything that waterproofs it makes the damn thing a tinderbox." Her eyes shift to Bethany. The run through the city to find Marian, the fight with templars and opportunistic thieves and bandits, the fires and floating dust and debris, all have taken their toll. The woman's pale skin is greyed by the ash sticking to her sweat, which then continued to run in rivulets through the ash. The poor woman is no longer accustomed to exercise. In addition, her robes are singed and dirtied, both sleeves ripped away as they been hindered her during the fight with Orsino.
They survived it all, Bethany using her knowledge of healing magic to keep everyone on their feet. Everyone but Fenris, who sneered and barked for her to get away. Isabela enjoyed watching him die after that. Bloody arsehole, he was, insisting on joining the templars' side, fighting against Hawke. It got the warrior's blade in his side, and his pride called for him to bleed out rather than accept Bethany's healing hand. Isabela was unsure on why the woman tried, but her reasoning could be sought out later.
Now they just have one last obstacle before they are free. As compared with Meredith demonically flying around them, it should be simple. But Isabela does regret that she still doesn't have time to really take a moment and see how Bethany is handling all this. Just a little further, she thinks, giving her lover a wink and a smile. Just a little bit more, and then I'll have all the time in the world for her.
"'Bela! Look out!"
Isabela turns around just in time to see Varnell, blood running down his face, approaching with his sword drawn. She has no chance to act, however, as a body slams into her at that moment. It is unexpected, and Isabela is knocked off her feet. Turning as she falls, time slow to a crawl. Her vision reveals Bethany where the pirate had stood. Bethany was the one to knock her to the side. She grimaces, and then Varnell's smile is self-satisfied as he yanks his weapon away.
It takes a moment for Isabela to understand what she is seeing. But then Bethany falls to her knees, blood on her hands, and time is speeding back up again. Merrill catches Bethany. Isabela throws herself at Varnell. The man is dead so fast he still wears that self-satisfied smile. His eyes still hold his fanaticism. It makes Isabela sick, but at least he is no longer a threat.
Isabela takes one single moment to see that her men have dispatched all of the guards, then turns and falls to her knees at Bethany's side. "Sunshine?" she whispers, afraid to touch her. The mage's robes are torn along her side, bloodied. Isabela cannot see the wound but she does not need to in order to know it's bad. This is a lot of blood.
"Isabela!" It's Merrill. She has been saying the pirate's name, Isabela realizes, but the pirate was not responding, so now she shouts. Her eyes snap up to Merrill's large, round saucers. "Isabela, I can't heal her! She can't heal herself! I… We…"
"Bethany!" Now Marian is here. Marian Hawke, her sword drenched in blood. Marian Hawke, vanquisher of demons and blood mages. Marian Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall. Marian Hawke, loving sister and doting partner. The woman is a study in seeming contradictions. And now… now that attention is focused on her sister.
"Captain!" Isabela's head snaps around, seeking the rough male voice that calls to her. It is the voice of her first mate. "Captain, we need to leave. What are your orders? Where are we going?"
Isabela turns back and catches Bethany's eyes. The mage is still alert, though her gaze is hazed with pain, with shock. "Go," Bethany whispers, reaching out one blood-drenched hand. Isabela takes it without hesitation, kissing the knuckles and tucking those blessed, beloved fingers under her chin. She is afraid to touch any of the rest of her lover. She knows how to stitch wounds, but this…
She is needed everywhere. Three sets of eyes are on her for help: Merrill, Hawke, and her first mate. But Bethany's sear. "Go," the girl says again. "Get us out of here… safe… so we can finally be… together… my dearest love…"
Damn everything about this! Isabela keeps her swearing internal. Aloud, she addresses Hawke. "Get her to my cabin. Do what you can for her. I need to captain my ship."
Hawke takes her free hand, the one not clutching Bethany's bloody fingers to her throat. "Get us safe, 'Bela. You're the only one I can imagine being able to do so."
Isabela stares into green eyes, somehow a match for Bethany's brown ones, and sees the trust placed in her. Balls. When did I let them in? When did I lose my touch? When… did I start caring? She nods, unable to say anything, but hoping Hawke can see her determination. She will do this thing. Even if it kills her. Which it very well might.
Every fiber of her being is screaming at her to take Bethany into her arms, carry her to the captain's cabin, and tend to her love. But her mind is still keen, and she knows that she is needed by her men now more than ever. She must get the ship to a port where they can find help. And she must do it quickly.
With one final kiss to those blessed, blood-soaked fingers, Isabela is on her feet, shouting, not daring to watch as her lover is taken by the pirate's dear friends. Everything dear to Isabela is in that little group of misfits. Is something happens to them…
Steer the ship. Get it out of the harbor before it's blocked. There is a port authority ship trying to turn around. They mean to intercept Isabela's ship. But her ship is already facing the right direction. Grinning at the coming chase, Isabela forces Bethany's pale, ashen face out of her mind. She can do nothing directly for her lover. But she can outrun that fat galleon. And she is the only one on this ship who can.
It is many hours later and still Isabela has not sought out news on Bethany. The answer is simple: Isabela is terrified. Terrified of what she'll find. Bethany might be dead. If she stays out here, on the deck, looking at the stars, then she exists in a state of limbo in which Bethany might be dead, but she might also be alive. She can't bring herself to venture into her cabin to solidify the answer.
She didn't know where to head at first. Her mind searched and searched even as she watched the ship trying to cut off their escape. As the galleon turned, as she called to her men to trim these sails or let those ones out, Isabela's mind searched for somewhere close enough to be of some help to Bethany. As the galleon picked up speed, Isabela thought of who might be willing to help them. As her own ship passed the slower, larger galleon, which would not have enough room to maneuver and would therefore be lost in Isabela's wake, the pirate wracked her brain for the solution.
Where would she go?
The answer came to her in a whisper on the wind.
Amaranthine.
It is close. The Hero of Ferelden still resides there with her Grey Wardens. She is cousin to the Hawkes. Isabela met her once, in Denerim, during the Blight. She even propositioned her, but the warden was committed elsewhere. Isabela now understands such commitment. She is committed to Bethany in such a way. She is, in fact, devoted to the younger Hawke, like she has never experienced before. Bethany has asked nothing of Isabela, and in return the pirate would give her anything. Everything. All of herself.
She is only perplexed that the mage could love someone as lowly as Isabela.
She will not fail her.
Isabela chose to head for Amaranthine. She will make the warden help Bethany at the point of a dagger if she must. Though she doubts it will come to that - the Hawke siblings speak of their cousin only with fondness.
But that decision was made hours ago, as the ship passed through the mouth of the harbor. Now, her first mate could direct her men, and a medical assistance signal flag flies at the top of her mast. But she cannot make herself leave this spot. The salt spray in her face, the twinkling stars giving way to the pre-dawn light, the seabirds rousing and following in their wake… all of it is lost on the captain of the vessel. She has thoughts only for Bethany Hawke.
So why can she not make herself seek her love out?
"Balls," Isabela murmurs, playing absently with the extravagant gold at her throat. A flash of red catches her eyes, and she looks more closely at her hands.
They are covered in dried blood. Likely much of her is. What parts of herself had she touched with bloodied hands? What parts of herself had she touched Bethany's bloodied fingers to? How much more blood now stains Bethany's robes? It is precious blood, life blood, and it is spilled and that makes Isabela's own blood boil. But she cannot bear to find that too much of that blood has been spilled.
She cannot pull herself away from this spot, where she stands staring at the blood smeared across her hands.
"Isabela!"
The pirate's head snaps up to find Marian Hawke striding toward her. The warrior's armor has been shed, and she wears simple homespun tunic and trousers. Only the normally-grey material is now stained. It is more pink and red than grey, and it looks fresh. Isabela's heart stops. She is going to get news of Bethany whether or not she wants it.
"Isabela why are you still out here?!" Hawke is angry. Her brows are furrowed, her lips set in a snarl, teeth slightly bared.
Isabela, never one to not be at a loss for words, instantly flares. "I'm the captain, Marian!" she blazes, taking a defensive posture. "The ship doesn't sail itself!"
"Bullshit! You could have handed the reins to your first mate hours ago! We're in open water now, they don't need you like they did in the harbor!" She pauses, looking down on the shorter Isabela. Her eyes soften. "Bethany is asking for you. She won't rest until she sees you. Please, 'Bela... " Marian's voice is barely above a whisper as she finishes her request. "You're killing her by staying away."
Isabela is washed in relief. "She's alive?" the pirate croaks, and she finds her knees are weak. She falls into Hawke, who catches her, giving her the support she needs until she can muster the strength to stand on her own once more.
"You were afraid, weren't you?" The normally roguish Marian Hawke catches her eyes, nothing but sympathy and serious concern within her gaze. "I can't imagine… Go to her, Isabela. She needs you. She loves me, but you…"
Isabela can only nod. Pushing away from the older Hawke sister, she begins walking, then running. She is sprinting when she reaches the door to her cabin, pushes it open, lurches inside. Merrill sits on the edge of the captain's bed, stroking her hand over Bethany's ebony hair. Bethany herself lies covered in blankets. Her robes are heaped in the corner. Isabela ignores that they did not start the day a dark red color.
Her eyes snap back to the bed and its occupants. Hesitant, she steps forward, closing the door behind her.
"Isabela is here, Bethany," Merrill murmurs, and the body on the bed shifts, groans.
Isabela rushes forward, all hesitancy gone. "It's all right, Sweetness," she says, the words coming out with a hitch, a small sob. "I'll come to you."
"And I will leave you alone," Merrill says, standing so Isabela can replace her. "We'll come get you if they need you, 'Bela."
The pirate nods her thanks, sitting on the bed and taking Bethany in clearly for the first time. The mage is pale, so very pale, the orange light from the flickering candle doing nothing to hide it. Even her lips are pale. The sun's light will show if they are tinged blue, but Isabela will have to wait several more hours before that is available. She must trust that the best will happen and that they are not. Not yet. They are not close enough to Amaranthine yet.
Bethany's face has been wiped clean, most of the ash gone. In its place is sweat, her hair sticking to it. Isabela begins the task of plucking the strands free and smoothing them back.
"So serious," Bethany murmurs, and Isabela finds bright brown eyes upon her. They are soft and sweet, though hazed with pain. "You have a carefree reputation to maintain, don't you?"
Isabela's lips pull in a wan smile, her fingers leaving the mage's hair in favor of her lips. She traces them slowly, and Bethany manages a light kiss on the tips of the pirate's fingers. "I thought you knew, goose," Isabela says, her voice oh so soft. "I break a lot of the rules for you."
Behtany smiles, chuckles, coughs. Isabela's heart beats wildly, erratic. She needs Bethany to be okay. She needs the two of them, the four of them, to sail off into the sunset together, to be the family all of them have lost. "Shhh," Isabela says, pressing her fingers to those lips. "Just rest. We're heading to your cousin in Amaranthine. She can help you, heal you. But you need to get there."
"That's good," Bethany whispers, her lids already falling. "Lie with me, Isabela? It's been years since we were able to."
"All right, Sunshine. Anything you want."
"No clothes," Bethany mumbles, blinking, fighting to stay awake. "They took my robes. I would feel your skin."
Isabela's heart breaks, but she chuckles all the same. "You didn't have to go through all of this to get me naked, Sweetness," she says, standing to strip her weapons, her shirt and hose, her corset, her boots and bandana. She crawls under the covers, careful of the bandaging wrapped around Bethany's mid-section, and snuggles her face into Bethany's throat. The mage settles an arm around Isabela's shoulders, hums her pleasure, and then she is asleep.
Isabela eventually finds sleep, but her rest is fitful, dreams of screams and blood and blades haunting her.
"Isabela!"
Bethany awakens slowly, her whole body sluggish, her eyelids dragging across her eyes as she opens them. Isabela's head is already up, the spot it had occupied upon Bethany's shoulder feeling its absence in the cool cabin. Marian is at the door, head poking in, seeking out Isabela. Hers is the voice that awoke them both.
"Maker's balls, Hawke. What is it?"
Bethany smiles, chuckles, coughs. Isabela is up in a heartbeat, unmindful of her nudity as she leans over the mage, panic in her eyes.
"Andraste's tits, 'Bela! She's hurt! Why are you naked?!"
"Relax, Marian," Isabela says, eyes not leaving Bethany, even though she is now fine and no longer coughing. Maker, though. She hurts. "I didn't bed your sister last night-"
"Only because she refused my advances," Bethany interrupts, barely above a whisper. "If I'd had my way, you would have heard her all the way up in the Crow's Nest."
"Bethany?!" Marian yells, shocked. Isabela just smirks.
"Glad to see you're feeling yourself, Sunshine," the pirate murmurs, and then those blessed lips are on the mage's forehead. Isabela pulls back with a frown. "You're clammy. I don't like it."
Marian's voice comes to them, her form blocked by Isabela's hovering over her. "You won't have to bear it long. Amaranthine was sighted an hour ago."
"What?!"
"I let you sleep as long as I dared, but your first mate wants you on deck now."
"Damn right he does. He doesn't know this port. I do." Isabela is off the bed, but she spares a moment for Bethany, warming the mage's heart. "Marian will stay with you. I'll dock the ship and get your cousin, all right?"
"All right," Bethany whispers, smiling thinly. "Isabela," she says, halting the pirate captain's movements.
"Yes, Sunshine?"
"I love you." It feels so good to say it with people around, even if she can't manage more than a whisper. They could never even see each other with others around, let alone say those words.
Isabela's face melts into a beautiful smile. "I love you, too, Bethany."
Bethany watches the pirate captain get dressed. Isabela doesn't bother with her corset, pulling on her tight hose, her poet shirt - and leaving the collar all the way open, as usual - and her knee-high boots. She is out the door in under a minute, and Marian closes it, moving slowly about the room, tidying.
Bethany relaxes into the pillows, closing her eyes. The sword pierced her belly, and it is painful. Beyond painful. She has never felt pain like this before in her life. But learning meditations in the Circle has prepared her for this, even though she didn't know that when she was learning them. As she closes her eyes she begins to chant in her head, practicing the meditations she learned to help control her magical outbursts. Bethany always had a hard time controlling her magic during extreme emotional episodes. It is a common problem. Hence the meditations.
The burning in her gut eases, and she loses track of time.
"Are… are you sleeping, Bethy?"
Her eyes snap open to see her sister staring at her. It has been years since they have seen each other. Since Mother's funeral. Bethany was angry then. She is no longer. She is merely tired. And glad to be gone from Kirkwall, from the Gallows.
But it still has been years since she has seen her sister's face. She has seen much of it this night, but has been unable to really study Marian. Her older sister has aged.
"Meditating. For the pain," she explains.
"Maker's breath, I could have had Merrill make you something for the pain. I'm an idiot."
"No, you couldn't. She has no supplies, and neither do I. I already asked."
Marian paces a moment.
"Marian," she says, halting her sister. "Sit down, please. Talk to me. It's been… a very long time."
The tall, lanky warrior does as she is asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. "What did you want me to talk about?"
"There were no details in your letters. You and Merrill…?"
Marian smiles. "Yes. Merrill."
"I always liked her. When did you first share a bed?"
Marian's pale skin flushes. "Maker, Bethany, first earlier and now this? You've changed…"
"We both have, Sister. I want to know you again."
Marian's expression grows… difficult to interpret. "Maker, Bethany. So much has happened…"
"Just start with the good things. Like Merrill."
It doesn't take long for Marian to get lost in talking about Merrill. There is so much admiration there, so much love. Merrill and Bethany both have grown up from the naive and inexperienced young women they were when they met. Hearing of it distracts Bethany from her pain, which is getting worse. It worries her. She is adept at healing magics. She knows that belly wounds are slow and painful and ugly, and she knows what can happen if they are allowed to fester. The fact she hadn't eaten supper that evening - skipping due to Isabela's visit - comforts her some, but the worsening pain means that the inevitable can no longer be staved off. If she does not get help soon… she will be in trouble.
She is already in trouble.
"So… Isabela. I would never have guessed until she told me."
Bethany smiles, her attention fully on her sister once more. "She kept saying I shouldn't get jealous if she sought company elsewhere. But she never did. I suppose she had a soft spot for me."
"Bore your way right into her heart through it, did you?"
"I suppose you could say that," Bethany says, trying hard not to chuckle. "And she into mine, despite constantly trying to break it by telling me she didn't love me. But it's hard to believe that when she made me feel so… special when we were together. And we were together all the time. Then I went to the Gallows, and it was like the distance made her honest."
Her stomach twinges. She shouldn't be talking, but it distracts her from the pain.
"I would have expected 'Bela to withdraw with the distance," Marian muses.
Bethany nods. "I did, too, at first. But I think the physical proximity prompted her to push away. Without that… all she had left was her feelings. She confessed her love in letters, and then she snuck in and made love to me after months of not seeing each other. Marian, she… she loves me with her whole being. I tried to convince her to leave, to move on. But she just… looked at me and said that it was too late. She was hooked. Removing the hook is painful, destroys you. So she would stay, and hurt, but not break." Bethany seeks out her sister's green eyes. "I never knew… this is what Mother and Father had. This is what convinced Mother to leave the noble life in Kirkwall to be married to an apostate on the run. Funny… now Isabela is doing the same."
A commotion breaks outside the door. It bursts open, and Isabela strides through, someone in tow. It takes a moment for Bethany to recognize Nori Amell, her cousin and Warden-Commander of Ferelden. But the pale skin, the short stature, and the dark hair, just like Bethany and Marian both, gives her away.
"I ran a medical assistance hail up the mast, and your cousin arrived at the docks about five minutes ago. She's here to help."
"Hello, Bethany," her distant cousin says, already at her side. "Gut wound?"
Bethany nods, feeling the energies being gathered by her cousin. "'Bela," she murmurs.
"Yes, Sweetness?"
"Hold me, love."
Strong arms are there instantly; warm, sweet breath washes over Bethany's face. "I'm here."
"Yes, you are. You did it, Isabela, my love. You kept your word; you saved us."