Title: Succumb, Part 1

Author: KalenCaelli

Rating: M

Disclaimers: I do not own Dragon Age, Dragon Age 2, or Isabela. But let's be honest. No one owns Isabela, not even Bioware. This contains scenes, however tasteful, of not-too-graphic love between two consenting adult women. If that gets you all heated up, I suggest you look elsewhere. Or take a cold shower.

At any rate, thanks to all who liked my first Hawke/Isabella story. I am still debating whether or not to incorporate these into a larger storyline. I do so love the pairing and I have all sorts of wonderful ideas floating around in my head.

Enjoy.


"Hello, Varric."

Her back was towards the door when it opened. One would think, of course, that after years of traipsing around Kirkwall, she would know better. There was no shortage of people who wanted her dead; in fact, her enemies were even more numerous now than when she'd spent a year as Athenril's enforcer.

Rising to the position of Champion had its challenges. But she'd had little choice, really. Meredith had been chomping at the bit to take over as Viscount. If Tieran Hawke hadn't stepped up and actively opposed her reign, they'd all be answering to the Templars. And frankly, the Knight-Commander was more than a little power-hungry, which was enough to make Tieran skittish about letting her lead this city.

Of course, there were nobles who wanted her to take over the role as Viscount simply for beating the Arishok. So far, she'd been able to neatly sidestep all of their attempts. But they were growing more insistent, and it was getting harder and harder to say no to her supporters.

Never mind she'd nearly died a hundred times in that battle, outmatched against a more skilled opponent. Tieran still couldn't believe she had actually won.

Champion of Kirkwall. Hero of the common people. The only problem was she hadn't done any of it for Kirkwall.

She'd done it for her.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"She comes with us." The Arishok's arms folded across his massive chest.

The color drained out of Isabela's face. "But I returned it ... I ... no ..." The pirate took a step back, though the press of Aveline's hand across her shoulder blade quickly halted any thought of fleeing.

"No way. I get first dibs on kicking her ass." Aveline's eyes were hard. Isabela looked at Hawke, her mahogany gaze filled with more than a bit of fear.

Tieran looked away. She was angry – no, furious was a much better word – at the pirate. She had lied. For three years she'd been strung along, duped into believing this relic was nothing more than a random artifact she'd lost when her ship wrecked. Not once had Isabela mentioned she'd stolen that relic from the Arishok himself. What did she think the Qunari would say? Had she really expected to get away with it?

Had she expected Tieran to take the fall?

All the secrets. All the lies. Had any of it ever been real? Tieran raised her eyes, meeting Isabela's own. The familiar gaze was pleading, begging with her to refuse the Arishok's terms.

If I do this, Isabela will die. There is no way the Arishok will allow her to live for this insult. And if he does, she will surely spend her remaining days as a slave. That would be a fate worse than death.

"Hawke, you can't let your feelings get in the way of doing the right thing." Aveline's words from earlier echoed in her mind.

But what if all those feelings were based on a lie?

"If you don't do this..." Fenris' muttered softly, his voice not traveling beyond Hawke's ears. "He will order his Beresaad to attack." The elf's voice was grim. "Everyone here will die."

Hawke's eyes closed. Could they honestly expect her to choose? Sacrifice her lover – the woman she had grown to love – or the city?

When she opened her eyes, Carver stared back at her, his gaze dull and lifeless. Isabela is bracing herself for the betrayal. She believes I am going to give the Arishok his demands.

I would have stood by you, no matter what. Hadn't those been her exact words to Isabela after she'd awoken from the Fade?

Were those words a lie?

"No." Tieran's eyes never wavered from the pirate's features, her eyes wide in disbelief. Fenris' head dropped, shaking slightly.

"You are hardly in a position to stop me." The Arishok's voice shook with barely contained anger.

"I claim my right to execute my own justice." Hawke squared her shoulders, facing the Qunari leader. "The Qun allows for that." She was suddenly very grateful for all those late night talks with Fenris. Though the elf had not spent long in Seheron, his insight had been invaluable in learning the appropriate responses from the Qunari.

The Arishok 's face registered dismay, and then suspicion. "Basalit-an, you would fight me for this woman? She is Basra Vashedan – without honor."

"Hawke, you can't..."

"Yes." Spoken a little too quickly, before she could lose her nerve. Aveline's mouth clamped shut mid-protest, her hold on the pirate releasing.

"Hawke, I..." Isabela's mouth clamped shut at the dangerous expression in her lover's eyes.

"Fenris," Some wounds were too fresh. "Take Isabela. Do not allow her to escape."

The pirate's features tightened in pain. Fenris nodded, his tattoos flowing a faint blue as his hands closed around the pirate's bicep. He would keep her there, and if Tieran died…

Well, at least she wouldn't have to watch Kirkwall go up in flames.

Aveline stepped in, her lips pursed tightly together. "Hawke, are you sure you know what you're doing? She betrayed all of us. Are you willing to die for her? For this?"

Tieran pulled out her daggers, her heart racing as she caught sight of the Arishok's sword – a massive bladed monstrosity that would likely cleave her in two.

"I know." Pain filled eyes met softer ones, as she traced a finger along the sharpened end of her dagger, drawing blood. "But I can't let them take her. I just... can't."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Hawke's fingers drummed on the scarred wood of her desk. That had been the hardest fight of her life. From the moment she'd first intercepted that bone-crushing jolt of the Arishok's greatsword, she knew she was in trouble.

But this was not the time to reflect on the past. The last thing she wanted to do was remember her.

"What is it, Varric?"

The dwarf threw his hands up, regarding his friend with an expression of mock insult. "Is that any way to greet your incredibly handsome best friend?"

"I didn't realize Tiny had followed you in," Tieran deadpanned, suppressing the urge to smile as the Mabari's tail began to wag furiously.

"Ouch, Hawke, you wound me." Varric grabbed his chest, his lower lip jutting out in an expression of mock injury.

She couldn't help but smile. "Wouldn't be the first time." Tieran crossed her hands over her chest. "What brings you to Hightown?"

"Oh, a little bit of business here, a few bribes there..." Varric shrugged. "The usual." He lifted his chin, rubbing the days-old stubble. "Say, whaddya say we go get a drink at the Hanged Man? I'll buy."

Tieran's hackles rose. Varric never picked up the tab. She had known him for nearly seven years, and in that whole time he'd never once offered to pay for one her drinks.

"What's going on?" Her eyes narrowed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. If he tries to get me to invest in one more business venture…

"What, can't a dwarf buy a friend a drink?" At Hawke's steely stare, he sighed. "Look, Isabela's back."

Tieran's quill snapped in half. Her head began to pound as the blood fled to her lower extremities. Her entire world narrowed to one point, her gaze shifting out of focus as her brain tried to make sense of Varric's words.

Isabela's back.

It had been three years. Isabela had disappeared from Kirkwall soon after the Arishok's death, fleeing on the first ship that left port.

Three years of memories. Of guilt.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The sound of the crackling logs first woke her. A single eye squeezed open, squinting together sharply at the marked contrast between dark and light, tears rising unbidden until she adapted. Slowly, the other eye joined its partner, the blurry surroundings finally emerging into sharp clarity.

Aveline and Merrill both stood before her, identical expressions of worry and concern engraved in their features.

"Thank the Creators you're awake." Merrill's relief was palpable, and Hawke's fingers squeezed hers tightly in reassurance. Aveline looked no less relieved, the faintest hint of a smile becoming readily apparent on her features.

"Good to see you're up and running," Aveline contralto voice was tightly controlled. "You gave us a bit of a scare."

Tieran frowned. Her memories were still fuzzy, and there was an incessant pounding in her head that made her wonder if she'd been run over by a horde of Mabari. The last thing she remembered was sinking her blades into the Arishok's chest, watching at first the disbelief, then grim acceptance of his fate. Everything after that was a blur.

"Where's the smith?" Hawke grunted in agitation as she tried to prop herself up on elbows that would not fully support her weight. "Better yet, don't tell me. I might have to kill him. Just tell him to quit pounding the anvil."

"Is there a smith here? I didn't know there was a smith?" Merrill glanced around the room. Aveline just shook her head.

"It's…nothing, Merrill. Just a joke." Tieran collapsed back onto the pillow.

"Oh." Merrill frowned. "You passed out after the battle." The elf's words ran together. "We thought you might die from the blood loss."

Passed out from ..."What?" Her throat felt like it was on fire.

"Well, you did have some injuries, but most were not severe. We think most of the blood was his, actually. A few cuts and gashes, mostly. A couple of broken bones. We decided to bring you here because Anders could hardly heal you in front of the Knight-Commander and..." Merrill's rambling was causing her headache to intensify, and Tieran weakly raised a hand.

"I get it," Hawke interrupted. "I think." A pause, before decorum kicked in. "Thank you."

On any other day, the smile that lit up Merrill's face would be enough to satisfy any further questions, but in this case... "Isabela?" Hawke's gaze shifted to Aveline, who scowled.

"Threw her in the jail until we could decide her fate. The Knight-Commander is pressing to transfer custody into Templar hands now that the Viscount is dead, but this is matter for the city guard, not the Templars." Aveline's eyes shifted downward. "I don't know how long I can hold them off, though. There were dozens of deaths, not to mention the death of the Viscount has left a hole in Kirkwall's leadership structure."

"Would have happened anyways." Maker, her throat hurt. "Too many Qunari died. Petrice..."

"Well, she didn't help matters." Aveline muttered grimly, though by the way her eyes darted around she could tell that the guard captain still remained dubious. "Hawke," Aveline's voice took on uncharacteristic gentleness. "Isabela left you."

"She came back." Tieran protested weakly.

"And she left you again. Alone. To deal with the Arishok." Aveline pressed. "He almost killed us."

Tieran closed her eyes, her heart twisting in her chest. Her hand clenched, remembering the feel of crumpled parchment. Isabela's letter.

Aveline was right. And it hurt.

"You need to rest." Merrill's voice chimed in. A cool hand pressed against her forehead, the waves of healing energy making her inexplicitly tired.

"Sleep, Hawke." Eyes drifted closed, surrendering to dreamless sleep.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I see." Tieran forced herself to set aside those memories, instead opening the drawer and pulled out a new quill, dipping it in ink and putting it to parchment.

"Hawke..."

"Thank you, Varric." Her voice brokered no argument. Tieran took a deep breath, consciously softening her tone. "I'm a little busy. If you wouldn't mind..."

The dwarf dipped his head, conceding this argument, backing gracefully out of the study before Hawke's notorious temper flared. People tended to die when that happened.

Tieran listened to the sound of the door closing before she pressed her forehead against her folded hands.

She's back.

Three years. It had been three years since Isabela had left, slipping away on a freighter bound for Nevarra. Three years.

Tieran could still remember standing dockside, cloak drawn tight to obscure her features, watching as the pirate had sailed off into the sunset. Aveline had been so furious – not just for releasing the pirate (she'd already anticipated that) – but for going to the docks to see her off. Too many guards had died in the revolt, overwhelmed by the Qunari forces that swept through the city, and the guard captain would not soon forgive their companion for the trespass.

For Tieran, it was like it had happened yesterday. Could she really be expected to let go and move on?

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

A dark head lifted, chestnut orbs blinking in recognition as she entered the cell. Relief filled that gaze before it turned away from her, the stubborn denial returning with a vengeance.

Isabela was alone, of course, isolated from the rest of the community as they were from her. Thick chains bound her arms and legs, though Tieran knew this was mostly for show. Isabela was adept enough at picking locks that she could be free of her restraints in short order.

And yet still Isabela remained. Why?

"Why haven't you left Kirkwall?" Hawke's gravelly voice sounded foreign to her own ears. Her throat was an arid desert, and for a moment she wondered if she'd made a mistake coming to see her alone. Aveline had been dead set against it. Anders and Fenris too, oddly enough. It was perhaps the first time that pair had seen eye-to-eye on anything.

"Tell me." Her voice was harsh, unyielding. Isabela scowled, pushing to her feet awkwardly, since the chains restricted her movement.

"I told you before." Isabela's eyes flashed darkly. "I'm here because of your damned influence. I should have been halfway to Ostwick by now. Instead here I am in irons, all because of you."

"I had nothing to do with this." Tieran argued. The relief in the pirate's eyes gave way to hurt, which was quickly masked by a casual air of indifference.

But she hadn't missed the expression in Isabela's eyes, however fleeting. She had been worried – the slight puffiness under her lower eyelids hinted that she might have even done more than that. Tieran wondered what tales the guards had been telling the pirate about her injuries.

Probably that I was hovering on the brink of death. Tieran reminded herself to have a serious chat with Aveline about her guardsmen when she left here.

But perhaps she was wrong. But no, she couldn't be. Isabela did feel something. She must have. So then why did she insist in denying it?

Damned fool. Hawke managed to prop herself against the wall. "People died, Isabela. Dozens of them. The Viscount, for Andraste's sake, is dead. Why?"

Isabela sniffed, eyes not quite masking the sting of Hawke's accusations. "You're reading too much into it, Hawke. I was after the relic, nothing more. There's nothing else keeping me here in Kirkwall."

That stung. A surge of anger rushed through her, and in two strides she was across that room, the Rivaini's wrists caught in her hands.

"That's not true." Tieran refused to believe she had imagined it. Isabela did care for her, even if she was too afraid to admit it. There was something between them. There had to be. She absolutely refused to believe she nearly died for someone who didn't give a damn.

Brown eyes narrowed to slits. "I told you not to bring feelings into it, Hawke." A warning. "You were a good fuck, nothing more."

Liar. Her hand lashed out before she could stop it, impacting the pirate's cheek so hard that the imprint of her hand could be seen against the pirate's face.

Hawke stared at her hand, horrified at what she had just done. Isabela stared at Tieran in disbelief, though her shock was gradually giving way to anger. The pirate's eyes flashed in fury, and she spit at Hawke's feet.

"I fucked you, Hawke. But there was nothing else between us. And there never will be."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Tieran stared blankly at the parchment, the words and paragraphs running together. She had never forgiven herself for hitting Isabela, for driving the pirate away.

She had not been serious with anyone since Isabela had left. That was not to say she had no suitors. There was no shortage of men (and women, for that matter) lining up to bed the Champion of Kirkwall. Madame Lusine had even given her an unlimited line of credit at the Blooming Rose.

That is not to say she did not try. For a short while, at least, she had tried to drown her sorrows in cheap ale and meaningless sex. But those rare excursions left her feeling even emptier than before, and eventually, she'd decided being celibate was preferable.

Still, self-imposed isolation worried many of her companions. Even Aveline (Aveline, for Maker's sake) was pushing her to start dating again. Hawke had thus far been able to beg off, insisting there were always things to do. Fortunately it was true. There was no shortage of people in Kirkwall seeking her aid, as she had pointed out to Aveline. But more often than not these forays left her feeling empty, and she would retreat into the safety of her mansion for weeks at a time.

She set down her quill. There was no use in trying to continue her current task.

Perhaps she could interest Fenris in a spar. Maybe that would take her mind off things.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You're distracted."

Hawke hissed at the sting as the flat of Fenris' blade found her backside. Had he been a true adversary, she would have been dead no less than five times by now.

Chest still heaving, Tieran sheathed her daggers, dipping her head in acknowledgment. The former slave returned her nod as she walked over to a washbasin, splashing a good bit of the tepid water over her face. Fenris waited patiently, seemingly aware that she would share in her own time.

That was one thing Hawke appreciated about the Tevinter elf. He left her alone when she wanted it. Hawke pressed the towel to her face, breathing in the slightly earthy scent.

Merrill's been in here decorating again.

"Do you ever think about your sister, Fenris?"

A pause while the elf considered the question. It was an undoubtedly complicated topic, given the events of the previous fortnight. The confrontation between Fenris, his sister, and his old master had destroyed half of the furniture in the Hanged Man. Tieran had forked over a significant amount of credits in bribes in replacements, and she had technically been banned from ever stepping foot in that bar again.

Technically. Varric had been contemplating buying the old tavern, and he had already approached her no less than five times about financing. Something about poles and a stage…

"Sometimes," Fenris admitted guardedly. "Why do you ask?"

"She's your sister," Hawke's gaze lingered distantly at an unseen point. "Do you think you'll ever forgive her for betraying you?"

The elf stiffened. "I do not know," he admitted, walking to the basin and dipping his own hands in. "She's the reason Denarius found me. I should be grateful that it's over."

"Do you really believe that?" Hawke's eyes sought his. Fenris, taken aback, shrugged.

"Perhaps he wanted to toy with me." He splashed a bit of the cool water onto his face. "Perhaps he wanted to show me just how far his reach extended."

"Do you think she would do it again?" Tieran pressed the towel into his hands.

"I do not know." The irritation in the elf's voice was evident. Long fingers snatched the towel from her hand, scrubbing angrily at his face. "Perhaps I am not the one to answer your questions."

"What questions?" Hawke tried to keep her tone light, innocent.

"About Isabela." Came the no-nonsense response. "I am not exactly an expert in relationships."

Tieran didn't respond, staring at the elf for a long minute. Finally, she dipped her head, spinning in her heel and heading towards the exit.

"Hawke."

She stopped just shy of the exit, though she did not turn to face him.

"I... wish things had gone differently." It was a surprising admission. Tieran nodded briefly before leaving.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

She studied the pirate's features, noting the dark circles underneath the other woman's eyes. Even in the dim light afforded by the candles, she could see that her eyes were bloodshot.

Had she really been crying?

Hawke leaned into her cane – she hadn't quite regained her full strength yet. "Meredith wants you publicly flogged, then executed in the town square. Aveline has refused to give into her demands, even though the Seneschal has said to do whatever the Templars ask."

No response from the pirate.

Tieran sighed. She would never forgive herself for hitting Isabela. It had been a stupid move – letting her anger take hold. But what's done was done. There would never be any going back, and she would have to learn to live with the consequences of her mistakes.

"Aveline wants to wait until a new Viscount can decide what to do. Meredith has been delaying the vote, however. I think she means to take command of Kirkwall herself."

If she was expecting a response, she would be sorely disappointed. Tieran sighed softly. She hobbled towards where the pirate was chained, wincing as the movement pulled at some of her stitches.

She knelt in front of her former lover, ignoring the stabbing pain in her side. Isabela looked away, refusing to raise her eyes to Hawke's own.

"I shouldn't have done that." The Champion lifted a fingertip to the bruise on Isabela's cheekbone, her heart dropping when the other woman jerked away.

"I've made too many mistakes in my life," Tieran said sadly, reaching to a concealed pocket in her inner tunic and pulling out a small key. Isabela's head snapped up, instantly focusing on Hawke's hands.

"I lost Carver to the Darkspawn, Bethany to the Circle, and my mother to a blood mage. And now you... you say what we shared was meaningless. Maybe you're right..."

She slipped the key into the restraints.

"But somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you." Isabela's eyes lifted, focusing on Hawke's sharp features. Tieran turned the key, the click of the restraints unusually loud to her ears. "But I can't ... I won't let them execute you. There's a ship bound for Nevarra in a few candlemarks. If you leave now you should have plenty of time to make it."

Isabela stared at Hawke for a long time, rubbing her wrists where the bindings had chafed. She pushed unsteadily to shaky feet, the expression in her eyes unreadable. Tieran felt moisture beginning to pool in her eyes, and she averted her gaze, blinking rapidly. How could she have messed this up so badly?

After a moment of indecision, Isabela reached out to Hawke.

Tieran took the proffered hand, allowing Isabela to pull her up. She nearly fell as she stood, narrowly averting a bad spill. The pirate's arms wrapped around her until she could regain her balance.

"I didn't do it for them," Isabela's eyes held true regret, a hand reaching up to brush her cheek. "I did it for you. It was always about you." Her lips captured Tieran's in a bittersweet kiss. The champion felt herself melt into the other woman, moaning softly as Isabela's lips and tongue plundered her mouth with ruthless determination.

An ulterior motive she could not, would not expect. Not until a fist buried itself in her gut, causing Tieran to bend over, gasping for air. Another blow to the back of her head sent her reeling.

The sound of rapidly fading footsteps was the last thing she'd heard.