A/N: Here goes folks! Finally have something of a beginning for a sequel to A Swashbuckler's Wit based around Inquisition. It's slightly AU klike before, using the storyline of the game with my own twists added in. Again this focuses around Hawke and Isabela on their adventures. Usual culprits will appear too like Varric, Leliana and so on and the Inquisitor will also make appearances as well! The idea's still pretty raw in the planning but I'll see how this first chapter goes down and do my usual improvising as I go along :P
Let me know what you think! Hope you enjoy! :)
9:41 Dragon
Mystical foggy dew settled ominously across the scorched, Blight-stricken lands of Ferelden countryside, the lush green leaves flapping weakly in the midnight winds. Sagging damply from their tree-top branches, they symbolised the disaster and despair which had consumed the country, stemming from the Kirkwall disaster and branching out across the land. The whole world had gone mad. Mages and Templars were at war, both against and with each other, while the regular folk of Ferelden simply tried to keep their heads low until yet another storm passed. Those who had died fighting the Blight over a decade ago would be turning in their unmarked graves at the sight of the nation they had given their lives to defend. But it wasn't just Ferelden in danger now. The threat of the Mage-Templar war was indeed grave, a terrible concoction of Templars determined to rid the world of magic, and the Mage's response to their mistreatment and imprisonment since the days of Andraste. Alas, new heroes would grow atop the old ones rested, and in time it would become clear that all hope was not as lost as it seemed. There was some good in this world worth fighting for yet, and old heroes who were trying to stay incognito would rise up again and eventually find their atonement for past misdeeds.
One said hero straightened up from the patch of crops she had been stealing from and wiped a fresh layer of rain from her forehead with the back of her hand. Of average height and perfectly proportioned to be the envy of any woman, noble or otherwise, she stood out against the stark background of the Hinterlands, a stubborn figure and about the only thing that was not yet swallowed up by the night. Lana Hawke massaged the strain in her lower back as she gazed out into the vast darkness, breathing in the freshness of the midnight air, feeling a damp chill in her lungs. Nothing welcomed one back to Ferelden like a heavy shower. The heavens above had erupted, crying upon the lands and welcoming her back like an old friend long since forgotten.
Home, sweet home.
Tucking her wet, shoulder length, dark brown hair behind her ear, Hawke reached down and picked up her backpack, now full to the brim of stolen food, throwing it over her shoulder. Supplies were scarce these days, and she hadn't eaten since jumping off the ship in Guarin. Carefully and cunningly, she skipped over the numerous bear claw traps in the dark, set by the local farmer to deter thieves less intelligent than herself, and began to plough through the moistness of the tall grass once more. The night grew chillier then, as a cool breeze swept across her path. She pulled her dirty, threadbare jacket closer around her chest, holding the lapels closed with her hands to make up for the lack of buttons. Of all the things unusual about this woman's appearance, a gold encrusted ring with black stones adorned the third finger on her left hand, glinting majestically in the moonlight. It was a stark contrast to her moderate, bedraggled appearance, a jewel of royal qualities that looked out of place in comparison with the rest, as though it too had been stolen. Although it was clearly the most valuable thing Hawke seemingly possessed, she never gave it a second glance, as though she was once accustomed to such jewels. The woman continued on her journey through the everlasting Ferelden countryside, blindly trudging towards her destination.
In the distance, close to where the village of Lothering once dwelled, a small cottage came into view, dim lights flickering through cracks in its boarded up window. Taking one last glance around her, as though expecting to be watched or followed, Hawke made her way down the steep, muddy hill, smiling as she neared. It brought back fond memories of a life long since lost. She scratched the face of the rotting wooden door in a distinct pattern and waited patiently. A few seconds later, there was eager scuffling on the other side, and the sliding of a bolt lock. The door creaked open just a crack and a pale face observed her, eyes widening in surprise. The person stepped back and allowed her to enter. Lana slipped inside quickly, taking off her backpack as she did so. As soon as she had stepped over the threshold, a pair of arms flung themselves around her with so much force that she almost fell over.
"Sister!"
Lana laughed and clutched her little sister Bethany in a tight hug, smelling the scent of flowers waft up from her long black hair.
"Still recognise me then?" she teased, pulling back from their embrace and taking Bethany's face in her hands, getting a better look at her. Her sister looked a lot paler and thinner than the last time she'd set eyes on her. She was still as beautiful as ever though. Bethany giggled, her warm brown eyes moist with happiness. "Eight months give or take, and yet it seems like longer with what I've been through to get home."
"You must tell me everything! Come in, come in! I'm sure you're exhausted!" her little sister squeaked. She made sure the front door was locked behind her and slid the bolt shut, then began to make her way through the dark hallway leading to the only source of light in what seemed to be a quaint little living room. "How is Isabela doing? Is she behaving? And Rivain! You must tell me all about it! Was it as secular as they say? Did you see any Seers? Or Qunari? Or—"
"Maker, let the woman breathe, Beth. She's only just got here!"
Hawke broke into a wide smile at the sight of her cousin, Charade. She crossed the sitting room and flung her arms around her, just like she had Bethany, placing a kiss on either of her cheeks.
"You're too thin, cousin! I can almost get my arms around you twice," Lana joked, feeling more bones than the last time she had hugged her before she left.
"Yes, well, food's pretty hard to come by these days what with the war and everything," Charade said grimly with a wry smile. Hawke could tell it had been hard for them, but they were both putting on brave faces. "Especially when you're in hiding...But I don't have to tell you about that. You'll know better than anyone."
Lana smiled understandingly. She had so far successfully eluded what was left of the Chantry and Mages. There was also talk in the wilds about a so-called Herald of Andraste, a Dalish elf woman now leading the Inquisition to seal the rifts that had erupted all across the land after a scorch in the sky. They said the Divine was murdered by a tainted God of some sort. Which is total bullshit, I'm sure, Hawke thought to herself, The wilder folk had more imagination than sense. Varric would have mentioned if it was Corypheus.The only tainted God she knew of had been killed, by her hand no less, and the previous attempts of her father before her.
"I thought you might say that," Lana said then, beginning to open her bag, "So I've taken the liberty of acquiring some delicacies for us."
Her cousin and sister squeaked in excitement as she began to produce the stolen food from her backpack: carrots, potatoes, leeks, onions (much to Lana's distaste), cauliflower, corn, roasted nug and six flasks of Rivaini ales, wines and port, courtesy of Isabela and her kleptomania.
"Maker's Breath!" Bethany exclaimed, as she and Charade examined the haul. "Did you carry these all the way from Llomerryn?"
Lana threw her a wink. "Best not ask questions, little sis. What you don't know can't hurt you."
Bethany giggled. Where her sister was concerned, truer words were never spoken.
"So, did you and Isabela encounter any trouble on the road together? I seem to remember the day when you two and Varric could start a fight in an empty tavern."
Hawke chuckled and began to unbutton the few clasps that remained on her worn out, soaking wet coat.
"Oh, you know us," she teased, removing her under layer too and hanging the dark green jacket over the clothes horse in front of the burning fire in the grate. She began to warm her hands over it, rubbing them together. "Isabela and I are never happy unless we're at each other's throats... or someone else's." The three of them laughed. "We behaved ourselves for the most part though," Hawke continued, "By our standards anyway. There were still many adventures to be had mind you, and we got into a bit of a spat with a few unsavoury types."
"The Armada? Did they hurt you!?" Bethany asked worriedly, remembering her sister murdering Isabela's old captain, Castillon, back in Kirkwall and then Isabela stealing his ship. She wasn't sure who had the longer list of enemies, Lana, or her notorious other half. They were both as infamous as the other these days, and very rarely seen in public. Lana Hawke and Isabela had become something of a myth among common folk, a legend that became different with every telling. Some said they were dead, others believed them to be on the run, and some had convinced themselves the two impish troublemakers were behind the Mage-Templar war, puppeteering from the shadows.
Lana scoffed. "Come on, little sis. You know I'm too good for that."
Her sister didn't need to know the truth. Bethany smiled, seemingly placated and walked over beside her. "I know," she admitted, scanning the numerous family portraits on the mantelpiece in the dimness. "Age hasn't slowed you down one bit it seems."
Lana chuckled. "I'm not that old, Bethany. Maker, do you have me pegged for death already? Did you organise a funeral pyre for my return? I hope you got a nice cake for my wake."
"Oh, be quiet," Bethany giggled, "You're just not as young as you once were, sister." She reached out, scanning a portrait of a much younger Lana smiling impishly in its frame. Varric had managed to salvage some things from their old estate in Kirkwall, before the looters had set in and consumed the rest. He sent them along every once in a while with trusted messengers while travelling with the Inquisition. Apart from himself and Isabela, no one else knew of the Hawke family's whereabouts, and Lana preferred to keep it that way. She had already put her family in enough danger over the years, and lost over half of them in doing so. It could never be allowed to happen again. "Neither of us are," Bethany continued, "It's just a shame the world has chosen to throw us in the thick of yet another battle. Don't we deserve some peace? Haven't we been through enough, Lana?"
Hawke snorted. "Some would call this the same battle that we set into motion years ago, Bethany. Maker, most even still blame me for its beginnings...But I never envisioned this." Lana's chocolate-brown eyes grew nostalgic then as she stared into the flames of the fire., remembering Meredith and Cullen, and all the others she had consorted with in Kirkwall. "I never thought siding with the mages all those years ago would cast the world into such darkness."
"You couldn't have known," Bethany replied, watching her sister reminisce. "You did it for me, I know...But tell me, sister. Now that you see the results, the tears in the veil, the scorches in the sky...if you had that choice again, would you make a different one?"
Hawke's eyes met her little sister's then and she smiled. "Not a chance, Bethany," she said, touching her cheek affectionately. "I'd never sacrifice my family for the greater good. There is always another way...And I intend to find it. I must make amends for what I have started."
Bethany grinned a little herself then. "I believe you," she said softly. "But you weren't the only one responsible, Lana. You must remember that. You are too hard on yourself. You always have been." Silence fell over them for a moment then, each remembering. Suddenly Bethany got to her feet then, clapping her hands together. "Anyway, enough of such talk...Let's just try and keep ourselves out of more trouble unless absolutely necessary, shall we? At least until Varric ropes you into another adventure."
"I've written to him again but he still refuses to tell me exactly what's going on," Lana informed her, her jaw tightening as she gazed down into the raging fire once more. "His letters are cryptic, but I've deciphered their hidden meanings. I think he's afraid to put down something clear in case it finds its way into the wrong hands. I don't think he wants the Inquisition to know he's still in contact with me...Or anyone, for that matter."
"Well, you're not exactly the most popular person in Thedas right now," Bethany reminded her.
"Gee, thanks!" Hawke replied sarcastically, "And here I was thinking I was on par with Navarre Mahariel, the bloody Hero of Ferelden!"
Lana heard Bethany chuckle from the living room as she and Charade began to carry the food into the scullery.
"What about King Alistair?" her sister called softly.
"Sent a letter just before I left Rivain! He and Anora have finally started to get along a bit better after Isabela's advice. She seems to think he's not so useless in bed anymore." Charade and Bethany laughed. "Trust Bela to interject on the sex life of a King and Queen. She really has no boundaries."
Suddenly the cries of a young babe broke their chuckles. Bethany reacted first. Like a doting mother, she rushed to the small child with bright red curls who was gazing over the tiny bassinette positioned in the corner of the living room. She picked up the little girl and began to tend to her. Hawke returned to the sitting room upon hearing the sound. Seeing the child's bright green eyes staring at her over her sister's shoulder, her face broke into a wide grin.
"How's she doing?" she asked Bethany, coming up behind her and placing a gentle kiss on the babe's face, scooping up one of her little tears with her finger. The youngest Hawke carried the now content child over to the chair and sat down, resting her on her lap. She was surprisingly sturdy for one so little, and had the look of a toddler, though she was still much too young to be considered one. Hawke sat down beside them and reached over, taking the baby girl's hand, feeling the tiny fingers close around her thumb.
"She's always fine whenever you're around," Bethany replied happily, "She likes you more than me, I think. You're always joking and messing around with her. I think she sees me as the serious one."
Hawke chuckled. "You're doing a great job, sister. I could never care for a child the way you do."
"You cared for me," Bethany reminded her. Lana laughed.
"And look where that's got me," she teased, nudging her shoulder playfully. "No...I think little Lana Hendyr is better off in your care than mine. I'm much too reckless. I'd be teaching her to fight bloody Darkspawn like Aveline and Donnic."
Baby Hendyr looked up with her bright green eyes and cooed. Her hair was getting, if possible, even redder than her mother's, and definitely curlier than before Hawke had left months ago for Rivain.
"Any word from Av?" Bethany asked curiously then, as she watched her sister get up and re-enter the scullery, where Charade was busy preparing a nug stew.
"Not a thing," Lana called back from the other room. She took up a knife and began to chop some carrots.
"And Isabela? You still haven't told me how she's doing."
The knife Lana was holding froze then. Her jaw tightened and she exhaled, her eyes finding their way to the golden ring on her left hand. She could feel Charade watching her, noticing the jewel for the first time.
"Maker's Breath! Where did you get that?" she exclaimed, taking Lana's left hand in hers and holding it up to get a better look. It was obviously the grandest thing she'd seen in a long time. Lana pulled free, embarrassed.
"I...It's nothing," she stuttered, backing away from her cousin, "Just a misunderstanding...that's all."
"A misunderstanding?" Charade repeated with a laugh, grabbing her hand again, "That looks like an engagement ring to me!"
Bethany came bounding into the scullery with Lana still in her arms, eyes wide as they caught the black-stoned ring on her sister's wedding finger.
"Blood of Andraste!" she breathed, "My sister's getting married!?"
She and Charade began to cheer and jump around like little girls. Lana wore a pained expression on her face and held up her hands to quiet them.
"Hey! Relax you two! You've got it all wrong!" she yelled, as the baby began to giggle and squeal, loving the raucousness of the moment.
"What do you mean wrong?" Bethany laughed, "Isabela gave it to you, didn't she? She proposed!"
Hawke exhaled and rolled her eyes. Cheers, Bela...You've left me a lot of bloody explaining to do. She nodded her head reluctantly and the scullery erupted into girlish joy once more. Hawke began to laugh a little too then despite herself and, rolling her eyes once more, left her sister and cousin to their excitement, deciding now was time perfect time for bed.
I'll explain the non-engagement to them tomorrow. Let them have this one. They haven't had a lot to cheer about lately.
"See you two in the morning!" she called over the cries of her gushing family. "Keep the screaming to a minimum if you don't mind. We're still in hiding lest you forget!"
"Wait!"
"Where are you going?"
They both came scrambling after her, out of breath with elation.
"We have to talk wedding plans!" Bethany called.
Hawke chuckled to herself, shaking her head, and closed the door to the bedchamber behind her. She exhaled audibly and glanced around her quarters, feeling the weariness of travel overcome her. It was so good to be home. Hungry as she was, she was equally as tired. I'll have some stew in the morning. Yawning, she check the room for giant spiders, remembering from her childhood, then slipped out of her damp clothes and let them fall to the floor. In nothing but her skin, she shivered against the coldness of the night and crawled under the thin linen sheets, pulling them around her. Resting her head on the thin feathered pillow, she closed her eyes and her mind began to rewind back to her first day in Rivain, all those months ago.
##
Four Months Previous
"So where shall we go now?" Lana asked, strolling hand in hand with Isabela through the lively Llomerynn markets, keeping a watchful eye on some suspicious looking characters by the alleyways. She had the distinct feeling they were being spied on since coming from the restaurant where Isabela had reluctantly proposed with a stolen ring, then retracted said proposal upon Lana's 'rejection' and reassurance that neither of them were meant for such a thing. Hawke had kept the ring regardless, taking it as a memento of Isabela's love for her rather than a sign of marriage as would usually have been the case when one donned a ring on a particular finger on their left hand. Neither of them were meant for matrimony though. They both knew it, and the ring acted as a hilariously ironic reminder of that fact. It would remain something of an inside joke between them forever more.
"What else do you want to see, sweet thing?" Isabela asked, smiling at her as she watched her take in the magnificent sights. Llomerryn really was one of a kind. Being in Kirkwall all those years, and at sea the years before, Isabela forgot how much she had missed the place. It was easy to stay away, reminding herself that only painful memories awaited her here, but in a way she always knew that one day fate would drag her back to the place she had once called home. Her past was being gradually dragged up as she showed Hawke around as promised, but not in the way she had expected. It was not the bad memories that had resurrected, but rather the happy ones (if you could call them that), the memories of better times with her mother, recollections of days when they weren't getting on each other's nerves, before the Qunari poisoned their already troubled relationship and the friction that ensued with them continued forever afterwards.
Well...not anymore, Isabela reminded herself, remembering the moment she had ended her mother's life for good. Surprised, she felt a pang of sadness in her then and a lump forming in her throat upon their approaching of a familiar alleyway.
"Bela?"
Hawke stopped walking, realising that Isabela was no longer beside her. She turned back to find the pirate staring down into a seemingly empty passageway. Lana walked closer to her and slipped an arm around her waist.
"What is it?" she asked softly, stroking Isabela's lower back through her black silk shirt.
Isabela smiled her crooked smile then and turned to her. "You wanted to see where I grew up?" she asked her. "Well... here it is."
Hawke followed her gaze back down the alleyway, eyes wide. Here? she thought to herself. Isabela laughed, noticing her reaction.
"You think I'm having you on?" she teased with a smile.
Lana grinned uncertainly. "You grew up in an alleyway?" she asked doubtfully.
"Hawke, you know my mother was a Seer," she reminded her, "Well, this was her spot. This was where she preyed on her the rich and the foolish...and this is where I first learned the tricks of the trade."
"Swindling coin out of strangers at a young age, were you?" Lana teased, her eyes twinkling impishly. The Admiral laughed.
"I had to start somewhere," she admitted, her amber eyes gazing down the alleyway once more. "You know, I'm almost expecting her to appear at any moment and scold me for my foul manners, running off, getting myself into trouble again."
They both laughed.
"She doesn't have a hold over you anymore, Bela," Hawke reassured her. "You're free..."
Isabela snorted. "Oh, please! She never once had hold over me, even then, Sweetness. I did whatever I wanted, and I still do. Selfish down to the last, and don't anyone forget it."
Hawke chuckled. "Spoken like a true pirate, love. I think that second bottle of wine at the restaurant has finally gone to your head."
Isabela laughed and leaned in to give her a kiss. Before their lips met however, something caught her eye over Hawke's shoulder in the distance. A suspicious woman was leaning against the wall behind one of the market stalls, determinedly looking their way while trying unsuccessfully to remain inconspicuous. Isabela froze, locking eyes with the woman.
"What's wrong?" Hawke asked in a hushed voice, her senses tingling.
"Don't look now...but I think we're being watched."
Hawke slowly turned her head, keeping her movements very natural. She then caught another person staring in their direction from a vantage point overlooking the market square.
"I see another," she whispered, "Recognise any?"
"Not yet," Isabela responded, "But I'm sure we have a mutual acquaintance or two."
"What do you reckon? Templars or Mages?"
"Maybe both," Isabela said, glancing around carefully for signs of more spies. "Or maybe Armada...How drunk are you on a scale of one to ten?"
Lana half smiled, catching her eyes momentarily. "About a six," she said. "How about you?"
"Six or seven," the pirate replied matter-of-factly, "Good thing we have a lot of experience fighting drunk. I have a feeling that's about to come in handy very soon."
"How many can you see?"
Isabela squinted. "I can't be sure, Sweetness. There's an exit at the end of this alleyway if we want to try and lose them in it."
"Admiral Isabela, Queen of the Eastern Seas, running from a fight?" Hawke teased, "I never thought I'd see the day."
Isabela smirked. "Who said anything about running? I just want to lure them into a trap."
She reached down and took Hawke's hand and began to lead her in the direction of the entry, strolling along as calm as ever, both of them aware their tails had begun to follow. The air down here was rife with sewage and echoes at the end of the tunnel told them they were headed in the direction of a crowd of rowdy drunks.
"Think we can lose ourselves among them?" Hawke asked, eyeing them up, trying to judge the potential friends from foes.
Isabela chuckled. "It's been known to happen," she joked, "You know my policy! Show the breasts and work the ass. It'll get you out of any sticky situation nine times out of ten."
"And get you into an even stickier one if those men have their way," Lana finished. They both laughed. "You know how I feel about the opposite sex, Bela. Remember that Templar party back in Kirkwall? I think I'd prefer a fight with our unknown enemies than subject myself to that again."
The pirate rolled her eyes and smiled. "Just stand still and look pretty, sweet thing. Let me do all the talking."
"Hmm, as long as talking's the only thing you have in mind," she replied, not comfortable with this current turn of events. Taking a breath to steel herself, Hawke followed after her love in to the pit of wolves as Isabela turned on the charm.
##
"Am I dead?" Hawke groaned, gazing up at the grey concrete roof of the alleyway, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of her.
Isabela giggled. "Just knocked out," she replied amused, staring at the massive Tal Vasoth bouncer who had apparently chased them from the restaurant they had been drinking at before. Hawke sat up and massaged her temple where the thick beastly fist had connected with her head.
"Andraste's tits, are we just getting paranoid, Bela? I could have sworn we were being followed by something more sinister than a angry bouncer."
"Maybe you're right," Isabela said, a little confused that this seemed to be the only threat. She glanced down both direction of the alley, looking for their apparent stalkers moments before. There was no one.
"So much for male chivalry," Hawke chuckled, "Those drunken bastards took off at the first sign of danger, leaving us to take out a Tal Vasoth!"
"Us?" Isabela repeated, with a mocking laugh. "You were on the ground for most of it, sweet thing. Out cold after one punch and a knee to the ribs! What were you going to do, snore at him?"
"Hey!" Hawke exclaimed, massaging her ribcage with a painful grimace. "That was a bloody good kick. I'm still a bit winded."
"Yes, that was his only kick before you dropped like a dead deer on me," Isabela continued teasingly. "So tell me, where in all of this were you about to kick his ass?"
"Oh shut up," Lana retorted, as the pirate laughed at her expense. "I'll remember that next time when you're the one on your backside." She crawled up as best she could. "Are you going to help me, or just stand there and poke fun?"
Isabela thought about it. "I'm trying to decide," she teased, "I kind of like seeing you on your knees."
"Bela!"
"Ok, fine!" she relented, reaching down and pulling Hawke the whole way to her feet. The pirate then rolled the unconscious bouncer over onto his back with her foot and they both looked down at him. "Huh, I didn't think the bastard had it in him. Tough son of a bitch to take you down. We really must start paying for our drinks."
"But what's the point when they're so easy to steal?" Lana joked. She touched her bleeding forehead again and groaned. "Thank The Maker I'm drunk. That could have really hurt me."
Isabela laughed and pulled something from her pack. "Here, take some of this, Sweetness. It's Rivaini Tea. It'll make you feel better."
"Tea?" Lana repeated, staring up at her in confusion, "To the Void with that, Bela! Give me some bloody whiskey! What's the matter with you?"
The Admiral laughed and rolled her eyes. "Just take some, you lunatic!"
Lana took the flask of tea reluctantly and slung it down her throat. She shivered against the warmth and felt it spread to every office in her body, relieving her of the pain as if by magic.
"By The Maker's left nut! What is that!? And why have I never had it before?" she exclaimed in surprise, looking at the canteen in awe.
Isabela sniggered. "I already told you, sweetness. It's Rivaini Tea. Made from a blend of cinnamon, ginger and cloves. It's supposed to have healing power."
"Supposed to?" Hawke chuckled in disbelief, "I feel like I could dance the Rim of Gold backwards!"
She did a little jig on the spot and spun around in a circle. Realising she was still a bit dizzy (not to mention drunk), she stumbled forwards and fell into Isabela's arms. The Rivaini laughed and helped her upright, though still keeping a tight grip on her.
"Watch it, Hawke. Balls, you're like a baby on ice!" She reached out and snatched the flask of tea from her then. "And no more for you! I'll not have a repeat of the bastarding 'Beby' incident we had on Alistair's quest."
Hawke giggled. "Oh don't act like you didn't love it," she teased, smiling impishly, caressing the pirate's cheek. "From what I heard I was basically throwing myself at you."
"Not just me," Isabela added under her breath.
"And besides," Lana continued, oblivious to her aside comment, "That wasn't my fault! Varric was the one who poisoned me!"
"Actually, Varric thought it was half whiskey and half a health potion he gave you if you remember correctly. It was actually my idiot crew who sold the rest of the ingredients to him."
"Oh..." Hawke replied, who was still a little foggy on the details of that day, "Well, anyway...We're not going to have another re-run of that. I could have died...and not in the dramatic, fashionable way that I always imagined."
"You're telling me," Isabela remembered, recalling the moment when Hawke had almost fallen off the edge of her ship, high as a kite on the deathly potent concoction of whatever Varric and the crew had created. "Anyway, let's get off the streets, sweetness. It might have just been this idiot tailing us, but Maker knows there are a lot of people in this place that want my head."
"I've had your head, Bela. It's not all that," Hawke teased.
The pirate sniggered. "You weren't complaining last time," she joked, "First I've seen you in months and you're doubting my sexual talents? I may have to remind you what you've been missing out on."
"Oh, is that so?" Hawke replied, intrigued. She gave Isabela a little smirk. "Then let's find a room for the night and we can make up for lost time."
"Actually..." The pirate suddenly shoved her up against the wall of the alleyway and pressed her body against hers, pinning her there. "What's life without a little risk? Here'll do just fine." She slid her hand between Lana's thighs, making her gasp. "Welcome to Llomerryn, Hawke. I knew you'd come eventually."