Disclaimer: Not making a profit, just having fun.
Written for a prompt in the Dragon Age kink meme in LJ. As stated in the summary, this story will have futa. To those who are unfamiliar with the term, it means, simply put: a chick with a dick. In this case, it's female!Hawke. So, female!Hawke will turn into futa!Hawke later on. If that rubs you the wrong way, then the back button is right there, my friend. This story also borders on crack, so it probably shouldn't be taken seriously. I apologize if I've offended, but you've been warned!
Don't know if it matters, but Hawke here is a witty/charming DPS warrior. She is also the default Hawke, because I think Marian is gorgeous and I saw no need to change a single thing about her.
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A Rivaini Talisman
Part 1
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The Hanged Man hasn't changed a bit, Isabela thought as she leisurely sipped the terrible whiskey that made her stomach burn with nostalgia and nausea.
She watched Edwina serve drinks to two of the more vocal patrons. The two men were currently engaged in a drunken, heated debate about the Champion of Kirkwall, a bed of dragon bones and the varying uses of the Arishok's skull. At another table, Norah hissed at a man to buy another drink or leave, to which he lewdly responded by asking her to bed.
"Not if you were the last man in the Free Marches," Norah snarled before whipping around and stomping back to the bar.
Isabela raised her mug to her lips to hide a smile as Norah passed by and went on about the woes of being a waitress, particularly about men who couldn't keep their hands to themselves. Later, should he harass Norah again, Isabela would offer to break his teeth, but for now she simply basked in the atmosphere, horrible stench, grating noise and all.
The Hanged Man hasn't changed a bit, she thought again, fondly this time.
The man at the adjacent counter was leering at her, trying to catch her eye while he barked for another drink. She spared him a quick glance, which he didn't notice because he was staring at her tits now. He was an unfamiliar face, but by the looks of him, she figured he was Fereldan - probably one of Hubert's boys - and here he was, pissing away what little coin he had on swill and women. Another mug or two of Corff's finest, she wagered, and the poor sod would start believing he had balls of steel and make a grab for her ass.
Isabela lamented that she might have to break a few fingers tonight and that, unfortunately, just might lead to a bar fight. Aveline wouldn't look too kindly on her starting a brawl not a month after she had gotten back. She grinned and down the rest of her whiskey, thinking that, maybe this time, she could get the fight to spill all the way to Hightown.
She frowned suddenly, then looked at the man again. He wasn't bad-looking, certainly not below her standards. Three years ago, she wouldn't have dismissed him outright, at least not before she decided whether or not she liked having his hands on her ass. It was only fair, after all.
There were other men looking at her. She knew most of them, had probably slept with most of them. She should be in her room right now, in fact, fucking one of them, or maybe two of them, or three, if her she was in the mood. But she wasn't.
Isabela was utterly, dreadfully uninterested in sex. Worse yet, she had not fucked anyone since she arrived in Kirkwall. The world had to be ending. She blamed these people, of course, because it couldn't possibly be her fault that none of them had black hair that would feel like silk between her fingers or blue eyes that would make her think of being out in the open sea.
It wasn't her fault none of them were Hawke.
"Balls," she spat, then promptly signaled Corff for another drink.
She tried to think of the Hawke's lean, lithe body - the long legs, the firm ass, the perky breasts - and it worked, for about a minute, and then she would think about other things, like Hawke laughing at her jokes, Hawke pouting after losing a round of diamondback and looking even more adorable than Merrill, Hawke growling at the Arishok and refusing to let him take her, Hawke grinning at her and stammering about whiskey with rat droppings when they saw each other again after three years...
Hawke, Hawke, Hawke.
Isabela groaned and just barely resisted the compelling urge to repeatedly slam her head on the counter. Three years of sex and alcohol did nothing to all these bloody feelings she had for Hawke. Rather, to her horror, she realized the further she ran from Kirkwall and stories of its Champion, the more she missed Hawke. The more she missed Hawke, the stronger those feelings got.
It would have made sense, then, that coming back to Kirkwall would yield the opposite effect. Of course, she was counting on Hawke to be angry, as any sane, normal person should have been. Then she quickly remembered Hawke was neither of those things when the Champion of Kirkwall welcomed her back with a lame joke and a stupid grin.
That stupid, crooked grin Isabela found absolutely adorable.
Isabela was about to sigh dreamily - like the smitten fool she denied to be - when she was saved from further embarrassment by the same person who had caused it. Hawke strutted into the Hanged Man like she was... well, like she was the Champion of Kirkwall, and Maker, she certainly looked the part. That Champion armor certainly was made for Hawke.
"Surprise!" Hawke proudly exclaimed, presenting her with a gift and a smile that could light up all of Darktown- Andraste's flaming tits, did she really just think that?.
Must stop reading Varric's sappy romance stories, she told herself, then she looked at the talisman Hawke was holding out to her and she blinked.
She looked back up at Hawke, stared right into those blue eyes for the longest time, and when she realized Hawke was completely, innocently sincere about this - like a bloody mabari offering a half-eaten carcass as a gift - all she could do was gingerly reach for it.
"Err... I see," she murmured, unable to look away from those pretty blue eyes.
Hawke's smile turned into the insufferable grin that made Isabela feel weak in the knees.
"Sometimes people get things for other people they like," Hawke teased, that tit. "This is the part where you say thank you."
Isabela smiled, immediately relaxed by that delightful, playful tone in Hawke's voice.
"I know that, you goose," she half-heartedly chided, examining the talisman for a moment before holding it up for Hawke to see, giving the Champion one last chance to realize what the gift really was. "Don't you know what this is?"
Hawke gave a little shrug and just kept grinning. Isabela wanted to shake her head and laugh. It was amazing - and terribly endearing - how dense the Champion of Kirkwall could be when it came to certain things. If only the people of Kirkwall knew.
"It's a Rivaini fertility talisman," she said, making sure to heavily stress the last two words. "These petal-like shapes represent certain..." she trailed off, smirking now, "fleshy bits. And this protrusion is... well, just look!"
Hawke looked, then blinked, and then blushed so much her ears turned red.
"Ah. Oh, dear," the Champion blurted out, "and all this time I thought it was just a flower."
Isablea knew she should have stopped then, that she should giggle and tease Hawke and they would both have a good laugh about it, but instead she clutched the gift and kept talking.
"Rivaini women would wear these so that their wombs would be fruitful and their marriage is blessed with many children," she explained, then, realizing what she was about to say, she tried to walk away, but she couldn't take more than a few steps. "Or... when they wished for... love," she whispered, glad that she had at least managed to turn her back on Hawke.
Isabela closed her eyes and took a deep breath, telling herself that she shouldn't wait for Hawke to respond, that she wouldn't want to know what Hawke had to say, anyway, if that long pause was any indication.
But then, before she could take one more step, Hawke spoke.
"Who needs love?" the Champion purred in a way that Isabela had always liked. "I was just hoping for plain old lust."
Isabela rested a hand on her hip and laughed, hoping it didn't sound as shaky as the rest of her body felt.
"Lust?" she crooned, daring to look over her shoulder. "Lust, I can manage."
She headed to her room in full swagger, the Champion of Kirkwall on her heels.
The sun was rising by the time they were done. Isabela was lounging on her bed, happily basking in the afterglow. She made a mental note to tell Sebastian what she had learned the past hours. Hawke was still very much a tiger in bed - all night, and every night still, surely - and Sebastian must be informed. He simply had to know this.
She also learned that sleeping with Hawke turned all those annoying feelings into pleasant tingles all over her body. Maybe it was the sixth orgasm or that trick Hawke had done, but whatever it was, she certainly wouldn't mind having a steady fix of Champion if the offer was on the table.
Absently, she reached up and touched the Rivaini talisman around her neck, the only thing she was wearing. She couldn't remember when exactly she had put it on, but she couldn't really bring herself to care, not when there were other, more pleasant things to dwell on.
Hawke sat on the edge of the bed, distracted with the task of pulling on her gauntlets. Isabela rolled to her side and rubbed the smooth armor covering the Champion's back.
"As pretty as you look in that, sweet thing," she cooed, wishing she was touching Hawke's bare back instead, "it takes a dreadful amount of time to get you out of it. This thing has more latches and buckles than an Orlesian noblewoman has free time."
Hawke chuckled.
"It might have gone faster if you let me help."
Isabela dropped her hand and smirked.
"Don't think I didn't enjoy unwrapping you like a Feastday gift."
"Of course," Hawke drawled, playing along, "I'm sorry the thought even crossed my mind."
"Well, then," Isabela purred, "you'll just have to make it up to me next time, won't you?"
Hawke sighed dramatically.
"If I must, I must. Oh, these burdens I bear."
Isabela rolled her eyes and gently swatted Hawke's arm. Hawke laughed, then turned to face her and kissed her. She returned the kiss but didn't dare move her arms, afraid that she would pull Hawke closer, afraid that she'd ask the Champion to stay.
"Sleep well, Isabela," Hawke told her after the kiss ended.
"Thank you," Isabela suddenly said, surprising herself. "For the gift, I mean," she quickly followed up, thinking fondly of the ship in a bottle Hawke had given to her three years ago. "It was... thoughtful of you."
Hawke glanced at the talisman and blushed a little.
"I wish you just let me keep thinking it's a flower, then I could say it looks good on you without sounding filthy."
Isabela laughed and stroked Hawke's reddening face.
"And when have I ever been turned off by filthy?"
Hawke groaned.
"You're going to wear that just to embarrass me, aren't you?"
Isabela made a show of looking offended.
"I would never do that, not to you, Hawke," she said, struggling to keep a straight face. "But of course I'm going to wear it. You gave it to me as a gift, it would be rude not to wear it."
"You? Rude?" Hawke snorted, not looking as flustered anymore. "That'd be a first. We can't have that, can we? Maker knows what this perilous road will lead to, and I refuse to be responsible for turning you to a life of debauchery. What's next, stealing the Queen of Antiva?"
Isabela sighed and swatted at Hawke again.
"Go before I put that smart mouth of yours to better use."
Hawke chuckled. Snickered, more like, actually.
"Let's save that for next time. I'll see you around, Isabela."
"You, too, Hawke." Isabela said with a smile, ignoring that it faltered when Hawke looked away.
She watched as the Champion picked the greatsword from the floor and left the room. When the door shut, she pulled the blanket over her body and fell asleep within minutes.