A/N: This story is dedicated to Heath Wingwhit, who likes to challenge me. To make me step out of my Merrill comfort zone, she asked me to write Aveline x Isabela. It's a challenge. Might be longish, still very much in progress, and definitely out of my comfort zone. I just hope I can do those two amazing characters justice, and I hope y'all, especially Heath, will be entertained.

"Are you never going home? Where do you even live?" Aveline looked up sharply from her paperwork when she heard a voice from the door. It was very late, the only light in her office coming from two candles on her desk. But she would have known that teasing, always amused-sounding voice anywhere.

She put her quill down and turned her head towards the door. " I won't ask how you managed to enter the Viscount's Keep this late at night, or I would have to arrest you on the spot. Close the door, please. You might wake some of the guards in the barracks. They need their sleep."

"Ah, so it is true. You are their prissy mother, of every single guard in Kirkwall. How smothering." The door was not closed gently, it was kicked and fell into the lock loudly. It made Aveline scowl sternly as she watched Isabela saunter across the room. The Rivaini picked a chair, carried it over to Aveline's desk and sat down facing the guard captain with her hands on the arms of the chair. "Such comfy chairs. I bet one could get bent over one of those in comfort. You should try it."

Aveline's brow was furrowed. As much as she tried, she never was at ease with Isabela. She unsettled her. For her, she was the antithesis to her own personality. She had learned to adjust to Isabela's presence, because Hawke was exceptionally fond of her. She put out, so everyone loved her, of course. Aveline leaned forward, her green eyes boring into Isabela's. "Explain yourself. What is true? And don't start talking about the chairs in that way, whore."

"Well, you know, I spend a lot of time at the Rose, and I hear things. There are so many templars and guards there, looking for a good time, can't blame them." Isabela produced a hip flask from her belt and took a sip. "You should have some of this, helps you relax. I'll even share, big girl."

Aveline denied this with a vehement shake of her head, waiting for the rest of the story. Isabela wiped her lips with the back of her hand, then smiled. "Sometimes they might just mention that you are too attentive, too focused, too smothering. They don't understand." The pirate rested her chin on her hands, lacing her fingers underneath it. "How would they know you have nothing else in life?"

Aveline's eyes widened and she rose. "Why, why do you seek me out to insult me? Is it that much fun to you? Come on, get out. I have important work to do." She moved towards Isabela and looked ready to grab her by the scruff of her neck and carry her out.

"What could possibly be important this time of night. Tell me it's not just to cover up that you're lonely." Isabela took another sip of rum from her hip flask, and looked completely unwilling to move. "I just...want to say I feel sorry for you that Hawke ducked out of helping you with Donnic. It would have done you a world full of good."

Aveline's gaze was murderous, as she whirled around turning her back to the Rivaini. "Why are you not leaving? I don't want to hear this, I don't want to talk about this, and the least of all with you of all people."

Isabela snorted and shrugged. "Why not with me? Who better to give you advice? I mean, I could have had your Donnic ages ago, he's at the Rose sometimes, but I never did. Out of respect for you." She idly tapped a foot, staring intently at Aveline's broad back.

Aveline's voice sounded pressed, barely making it past her teeth. "He's not my Donnic, and you can do whatever you want, like the slattern that you are." It had been a couple months, and it still hurt. Things between Aveline and Donnic were more than awkward, at least on her side. He was mostly oblivious, because he still believed that it was Hawke who fell in love with him. The rather blunt Hawke had been completely unwilling to further participate in any charades after the disaster at the Hanged Man.

Isabela whisked the rum around in the hip flask, always smiling. "He's not my type. I like my men loud and ballsy, not silent and strong. Not flashy enough." She tilts her head. "Did you really never dare declare yourself for him? Would it have been so hard? Men like it when a woman knows what she wants. Most men at least."

"You don't understand. I am not like you. I have no interest in being like you. We have different views of the world. You lie and steal and cheat and whore. I protect Kirkwall from the likes of you." Aveline walked towards Isabela and snatched the flask from her hand, then took a long sip.

She coughed as the heat of the rum hit her throat and handed the flask back, listening to Isabela's laugh. It was a delightful laugh, with just a hint of throatiness, and for a fleeting moment, Aveline felt she understood why men and women alike threw themselves at the pirate. A very fleeting moment. "I am wasting my time here. You are wasting my time. Why are you even here?"

Isabela crossed her tanned legs and mused with a smile. "I was in the area. I had a feeling you would be here, and if you hadn't been, strolling around the Viscount's Keep might have been so much fun. But really, I counted on you being here. Big girl, I mean you no harm. It pained me to hear you have been that lonely. I am sure you have heard me say that my affairs only go skin-deep, but that's better than having none." She leaned forward, looking up at Aveline with a curious gaze. "Don't you ever wake up in the middle of the night, from an intense dream, and just wish there was someone to fill that void? Take your mind off this shithole of a place? Someone to give you what you deserve, and even what you don't? How do you handle being lonely?"

Aveline turned around, craning her neck to look at the long rows of the bookshelves behind her desk. One hand idly tugged at her striped scarf. "I don't have time for such idle thoughts. Duty binds me, more surely than anything. I don't have time to be lonely. I must serve and protect." Her hands were on her back now, and her eyes closed. Surely she would be able to convince a woman like Isabela that she was just that strong.

"Bullshit. You can play ball-crusher by day and night out there as guard-captain, but I know better. You're just a woman. Like me, or Hawke, or even Merrill. All of us have needs, hopes, desires. No one is just about duty. It will leave you shriveled like a prune if that's all that is there. I bet even Knight-Commander Meredith has some hidden passion. You think she and the first enchanter..." Isabela laughed at the horrified expression on Aveline's face when the red-head whirled around to face her. "I bet that would make a fine book. I should speak to Varric." She held out the flask again, and Aveline drank, without hesitation.

"I don't need any books, and you need not worry about me shriveling. What am I to you anyhow?" Aveline glared, her heckles raised. "I don't need your insights, your opinion about me, Isabela. I will arrest you for breaking into the Keep, Maker help me, if you don't leave."

The pirate did not seem scared of this. "Oh, I have no doubt you would. But remember. If I really wanted to, I could help you with Donnic. Or any other man. Or there are other options." She quickly moved to pick up one of Aveline's strong hands. "You do have such strong hands, they would feel good on skin." She blew a kiss on the inside of Aveline's wrist, where the pulse was beating hard.

Aveline curled her hand into a fist and punched, but the pirate was fast and a skilled duelist, escaping gracefully. "Go think about it, Aveline. And keep the rum." She laughed and dashed outside, leaving as quietly as she had arrived.

Aveline was full of anger, righteous anger. "That whore!" She covered her wrist with her other hand, feeling her pulse race. Her freckled face was flushed.

If she was honest with herself, she would admit to it that she was overwhelmingly lonely. If she was truthful, she would admit to still pining for Donnic, even though he never gave her a second glance. If she really looked into herself, she would admit that Isabela's brief kiss to her wrist had flushed her body with desire.

But Aveline was not honest with herself. She could only be honest for Kirkwall and duty, and her friends. Never herself.

The training yard rang with the sounds of swords. Aveline's booming voice was stern yet encouraging, as she personally oversaw the drills of the new guard recruits. Isabela leaned against a wall and watched the practice with a yawn. She wasn't really up and about this early usually, but had made an exception this day. For whatever reason, Aveline had requested her presence, which was something that never happened. "Now that's some fine meat right there," she admired some of recruits, murmuring to herself.

When Aveline joined Isabela she smelled of fresh sweat and hard work. She tucked a ginger strand of hair back underneath her headband. "I didn't think you'd be coming this early. Did they pull you off some sod or what happened? Chased out by a wife? Kicked out?"

Isabela winked and saucily added "I come anytime I want, however many times I want to. But I think you weren't talking about that, were you?" Watching Aveline roll her eyes always felt like winning to her. "What did you want to talk to me about? I think the last time I saw you, you kicked me out."

Aveline locked gazes with the pirate, shaking her head after a moment. She was the one to turn away first. "You deserved that. But I need your help now."

Isabela looked incredulous, her eyes wide, and she laughed. "Is my name Saint Hawke, savior and protector of the innocent? Since when am I considered a help to the city guard of Kirkwall?" Aveline's glare totally made the jibes worth it. "Only if you make me play innocent maiden getting rescued by a guard. Like Donnic. He could ravish me, and I'd let you watch. How about that?"

Aveline looked ready to punch her. "I swear by the Maker, Isabela, if you don't shut your filthy mouth, I'll shut it for you. I don't know why I thought you'd help me, but here I am, being ripped apart with your filth, when all I had hoped for was some bloody assistance. You stupid whore."

The pirate crossed her arms in front of her ample bosom and looked smug. "Got you riled up, didn't I? Still hurts, doesn't it? But as I like my teeth, bring it on. Just spit it out what you need me for, and I'll consider."

Aveline snorted and threw her hands in the air in frustration. "I might as well tell you. I need a late breakfast and some water, let's head to the barracks."

Isabela felt oddly vulnerable sitting on one of the hard benches of the barracks. The room was full of city guards in full armor, and she was the lone exception. It was relatively quiet, people were eating their breakfast and talking about their duty roster. It did not seem right to her for a second to be mingling with guards. She idly poked the bowl of porridge in front of her and then looked up at Aveline. "No beer, huh? I don't think I can eat this early."

Aveline had no issues with her porridge and wolfed it down as if it was her last meal. Hard to believe she had Orlesian roots. "You can have water, and that's it. I won't have my guards intoxicated, they can do this later, off-duty."

"Alright, spit it out. I am bored already, Aveline, and you know I hate being bored." Isabela looked around, her eyes settling on a particularly beefy hunk of guard. "He looks nice. I could make him squeal." She pursed her lips thoughtfully.

This earned her a smack from Aveline, and not a gentle one. "Stop doing that. Within this room, within the barracks, it is about duty to Kirkwall, and I won't let you mess with that. Now listen up, so that we can end this farce, and you can head off to commit misdeeds, and I can keep my sanity." The guard-captain ate a final spoon of porridge before pushing the bowl away.

"We have received the information that a particularly vicious band of slavers is operating in Kirkwall. They seem to have excellent dock-side contacts. They seem mostly interested in young women, but also younger men. They seem to prey on those who are desperate enough to grasp for straws." Aveline's gaze was hard as she stared at a now serious Isabela. "They lure them with false promises and then sell them off to Tevinter and Orlais. They prefer elves, and many are desperate enough, but you don't need an elf if you are looking to sell a young girl into a whorehouse. Any girl will do. They smuggle them off to the Wounded Coast and they get loaded into ships from there."

Isabela's hand around her mug of water was white-knuckled. "Why are you telling me this, Aveline?" She rolled her shoulders and seemed more tense than the guard-captain had ever seen her.

Aveline idly adjusted her scarf and then leaned forward, half across the table, towards the pirate. "I have seen you, Isabela. It's been a couple years now. I have seen you with the likes of Kelder. I have seen how viciously you respond to slavers. I don't know your agenda, but I am 100% sure that you understand why I don't want to see these girls lose their freedom, and their virginity to disgusting scum of Thedas like that. I call you a whore, but you choose to be one. These girls don't."

Isabela averted Aveline's gaze this time, as she actually downed some water. She made a face at the bland taste, but it might also have been the conversation. "Why are you telling me and not Fenris? Wouldn't you think he'd fight the slavers with more fervor than I ever would?"

The red-head shook her head. "I contemplated it, but he would just go on a murderous spree. You cannot reason with him. He's bitter and brooding. He's a formidable fighter. I want to stop this whole thing at the source. And that's somewhere on the docks in Kirkwall. Or maybe somewhere else in Kirkwall. You have contacts. I am asking you."

Looking uncomfortable still, Isabela questioningly looked at the guard-captain. "This is not some ruse to have me sell out some of the people I have worked with over the years, yes? Because if it was, that would be a disgusting story to tell me, Aveline." She rose, leaning down towards Aveline. "I resent that you ask me. I dislike that you read me in such a way." She stood straight, with a hand on her hips. "But I resent them even more. I'll start keeping my eyes and ears open. Hanged Man, tomorrow night, we'll talk. I will want payment, and I will want to work with you, and only you. You will be even more sick and tired of me than you usually are, prig, but we'll take them out."

As she turned and left, Aveline watched her go. She almost smiled at her, gratified, for actually, once having understood some of what drove Isabela.

Isabela on the other hand was seething. She headed straight for the Hanged Man, flagging down the barkeep, and started drinking. An hour later, she had finally relaxed to a certain degree that she was willing to respond to lewd catcalls and gropes that she received as she stood there. Varric made his way into the common room and walked up to her. "Rivaini. You are drinking early today. And here I was just thinking about breaking my fast. But you look like you have a tale to tell."

The pirate shook her head. "No, I don't have anything right now. Have you ever been grabbed by the balls and crushed, from the person you expected it the least?" Varric looked up at her quietly, his clever face and his brown eyes occupied with thought.

"Can't say I have," he finally stated. "I always knew Bartrand was a bastard, so I expected something. Not that it didn't feel ballcrushing anyhow when he did his move in the Deep Roads." The anger and rage at this betrayal were close to the surface, even after all that time. "But I can't imagine anyone having you by the balls, because you have the biggest ones I know. Well, maybe Hawke's are bigger, but you know what I mean."

Isabela laughed, shaking her head. "I swear, I wish you were more interested in humans, Varric. The things I would be able to show you and Bianca. You are such a flatterer. You know, eventually this might be a story worth sharing, but for now, I will need to sort this out on my own." She leaned down to kiss the dwarf's cheek. "I have a feeling this coming week will be different. I'll keep you posted."

As she departed the Hanged Man, Varric couldn't help but wonder about the serious expression in her eyes. The Rivaini was brooding, and that rarely ever happened.