Isabela smirked, waking to the feeling of Hawke kissing down her neck softly.
"Enjoying your afternoon nap?" He teased.
"Embarrassingly so," Isabela admitted, yawning slightly, "How long was I out?"
"Maybe about an hour," Hawke replied, brushing the hair off the back of her neck, "Are you feeling a little better?"
Isabela smiled, "A little morning sickness never killed anyone, love. I'm being a little wimp. Tomorrow I'll be stabbing rogue Templars left and right."
Hawke chuckled, "I'm sure. Can I grab you anything before I go?"
Isabela pouted, "You're leaving?"
"I told you, sweetheart," he replied, "Orsino needs me for something. It's just going to be a boring conversation at the Gallows and then more stalking in the dark. You might as well stay here."
"Are my adventures to be over now?" Isabela bemoaned playfully, "Am I to be stuck barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen?"
"Maker, I hope not. Your cooking is terrible."
Isabela stuck her tongue out as Hawke laughed, kissing her forehead.
"I'll be back soon," Hawke promised, "You'll probably be asleep for most of that time anyways."
Isabela wanted to protest, but she felt her eyelids drooping again. It seemed she could no longer stay up so late at night when she was sleeping for two. It was still new to her, still unexpected having that slight flutter of life in her belly. It was a secret still, as she had requested. No Rivani woman would dare tell someone, who was not her lover at least, that she was expecting until well into the third month. She was sure Hawke would make some excuse for her today. He was getting better at lying after much coaching.
She curled back into the sheets, sighing as Hawke closed the door behind her. In her dreams, she saw the three of them, living deep in the mountains. The three of them laid on the ground, a small child sleeping between their curled bodies. Isabela looked up at Hawke, looked deep into his soft brown eyes, and in that moment, she felt an odd sense of peace.
She had drifted off for what felt like only a few moments when she heard a bloodcurdling scream.
She sat up in bed immediately, grabbing her daggers from her bedside table. She went out the door and into the lobby of the Hanged Man.
The patrons had scattered, a few hurt and injured on the ground. Isabela looked to Edwina, who was hiding underneath a table. A group of men and women, dressed in black, appeared to have the establishment under their thumb.
A familiar looking man walked towards her, almost kindness in his eyes as he held out his hand to her.
"Come child, we do not want to see more bloodshed today," he said, "You could fight off all of us and have your friends killed. Or you can simply come along."
"Who the Void are you?" Isabela stated, raising a dagger to level with his throat. The others went to move forward, but the man waved them back.
He said calmly, "My name is Thrask. We've met before. Isabela, was it not? The beautiful pirate queen so many reports described. If you come with me, you nor Hawke will be hurt."
Isabela bit her lip, her heart pounding loudly as she demanded, "Where is he?"
She felt a hood go over the back of her head and she tried to move, struggling against the magical binds that went around her chest. She cried out as she fell to the floor, her hands aching to reassuringly stroke her belly.
A female voice said plainly, "Did you really think the whore would play nice? Men, tie her up and restrain her mouth."
Isabela tried to bite a hand removing the hood, her face pressed into the ground as another set of hands wrapped a gag around her mouth. She tried to resist against the men who picked her up, carrying her out the back door of the inn. She watched the injured parties, all watching noiselessly as she was taken. She felt stunned, the situation washing over her. What did they want with her? What would they do to her?
The realization hit her as her pulse raced. She was afraid. Terrified to fight back and hurt the child, terrified that her rebellion would be taken out on Hawke. She kept uncharacteristically quiet, trying to focus on slowing her breath. She needed to keep her wits; she couldn't sink into panic. Not now.
She heard bits and pieces of the conversation as she was carried through the tunnels of the dark undercity. She recognized Grace's face after a time, cursing Hawke on being so forgiving of damn everything. Not everyone had the best intentions, when would he ever learn that?
But then her heart softened. Would he have fallen in love with her if he hadn't been so compassionate? He had given her a chance...far too many chances, really...and he always believed in her. Even when she hurt him. Even when she left him.
She blinked as the harsh light of day reached her eyes again and she tried to move her head to get a better look. They were on the Wounded Coast, certainly, but that left miles and miles for the party to hide. Who would ever spot them? Had Hawke already been taken? Already...already...
Isabela could not let the thought passed through her mind. She bloody loved that man. She wasn't going to lose him now, not to these paltry excuses for kidnappers.
She was tossed into the sand as they made camp. Still bound and gagged, Isabela lay still, though she was desperate for something to drink. She listened into the conversation nearby, trying to distract herself from the thirst.
Grace was speaking to Thrask nearby, just outside of one of the tents. The pair appeared to be in disagreement since leaving the Hanged Man, and the argument had seemed to boil further as they waited.
"Hawke should have been here by now," Grace insisted, "Are you sure we took the right hostage? Who would risk their life for that little tart? He might have just left her here and skipped town. I told you we should have taken the Guard Captain. A good political prisoner."
Thrask smiled sadly, "We need the Captain on our side. This was the safest bet. She may not seem worthy to you, but a man in love can be foolish indeed."
Isabela wrinkled her nose at them and tried to imagine Aveline as their hostage. She smirked, pretending Aveline had bored them to sleep with a lecture about proper knife sharpening and then would sneak away into the night. Good old battering ram. She wouldn't have let pregnancy hormones flood her brain with stupidity. She would have noticed the big lug standing behind her instead of idiotically pleading for her lover.
Grace walked towards her, kneeling in the sand as Isabela tried to look up at her.
"I don't think she looks quite pathetic enough," she mused, "What do you think, Alain? Would you trade your life for her? Would you become a Templar stooge for a slattern like her?"
Alain replied, "I think I hear them coming."
"Get ready," Thrask warned, "Let me talk to him first."
Isabela could see him just in the distance, his shaggy black hair appearing over the dunes as he passed into their sight. Hawke was still alive.
She tried to look up further, merely having her head pushed down by Grace's foot.
Thrask called out, "We do not wish anymore hostilities, Champion. We just want to talk."
Hawke replied darkly, "Then talk quickly. I find myself lacking my normal patience."
"We need your help. There is to be war in this city, we both know it. We are a small group of Templars and Mages, working together for freedom. We know what you have done in this city; we know that if you stand behind us, we will take the city itself. I have no wish to harm your companion, but I will take drastic measures if you do not help us."
Isabela's heart raced and she tried to slow her breathing down.
"I usually do not negotiate with terrorists," Hawke replied, "But you seem to have me in a rather...unusual position."
Isabela could vaguely see Aveline standing behind him. The woman's face was stern, her hand staying on Hawke's shoulder as she held him back.
Hawke tried to meet Isabela's gaze. She felt her head pushed further into the sand, groaning slightly against the gag.
Hawke stepped forth and said calmly, "I have already supported your cause more than a dozen times. I have protected many of you. I want freedom for mages. And you repay me by trying to blackmail me? This was not a wise decision, Thrask. If you had asked me, if you had been a man and talked to me..."
"I knew this would not work," Grace announced, releasing Isabela as she walked forth, "Kill the hostage and take the Champion alive."
"I can't let you do that," Thrask replied, "This is not what we agreed."
Isabela's eyes went wide as Grace transformed, the abomination taking Thrask's life, drawing power from his blood. She rolled out of the way as the battle continued, trying to inch her way towards a jutting rock. She gasped as a hand wrapped around her throat and she felt the abomination lift her off the ground. Isabela struggled as the hand closed down and she closed her eyes.
She fell suddenly, the abomination fading as its blood spilled into the sand. Her shoulders shook as she opened her eyes again and saw Hawke's face, his hands undoing the gag.
"Lee," she whispered.
"Are you okay?" He asked.
She nodded as he untied her binds.
"And the baby?"
"I don't know," she whimpered, "I think so."
Released, she let herself fall into his arms as he held her closely to him. She could feel his tears against her own skin and felt herself sobbing against his shoulder.
"Hawke," Aveline called out, "We need to deal with what just happened."
"Not now," he snapped unexpectedly.
Isabela felt their eyes upon them as Hawke kissed the top of her forehead and helped her to her feet.
"Anders," Hawke said quietly, "I need you to check over Isabela. Is that alright, my dear?"
Isabela nodded, wiping the tears from her face. Hawke kissed the side of her head again.
"Aveline, I'm sorry. You and I will talk to Cullen tomorrow. Keep Alain and Samson secure and safe until then. Please."
"I'll bring them back to the Keep right now," Aveline said, bowing her head, "They'll be safe there overnight."
"Are you feeling up to travelling tonight?" Hawke asked Isabela softly.
She felt the knot grow in her throat and she nodded, "I want to go home."
"Okay. Clear the camp, everyone. Anders, if you would."
Anders nodded, taking Isabela off to the side.
"Any injuries?" He asked quietly, "Besides a few bruises. You probably have a concussion too; I'll check that out. Most of this I can treat now."
"I'm pregnant," Isabela whispered.
Anders' eyes widened, "Alright. I'm going to touch your stomach. Is that okay?"
Isabela nodded, sitting down on a rock as Anders knelt in front of her. Gingerly, he touched her belly, his fingers tingling against her skin as she waited anxiously. He stood up again with a smile.
"Absolutely fine," he said quietly, "Though you should be getting proper pre-natal care."
"I'll come to your damn clinic if you keep your mouth shut," Isabela grumbled.
They returned to the rest of the group. Anders went to help a reluctant Fenris with a rather large cut down his arm and Isabela went to Hawke's side. She embraced him, letting her body curl into his.
"Everything's okay," she murmured.
"Thank the Maker," Hawke responded, kissing her forehead again, "I thought I had lost you both. I didn't know what I was going to do. I...I..."
"I'm fine," Isabela smiled, tugging his ear affectionately, "You worry too much."
"I'm going to ravish you when we get home," he promised, "There's nothing better than a "I thought you were going to die" fumble in bed. Remember after the Qunari attacked?"
Isabela surprised herself with a blush. Even she had thought that had been a rather...unique evening.
"We'll see how that goes, tiger," she teased, "You may yet find yourself wrapped up in politics again tonight."
He shook his head, "I'm not leaving you. We can deal with the rest of the world tomorrow. But tonight..."
His hand trembled slightly as it touched her face and she understood.
They arrived back at the Estate just after the midnight Mass at the Chantry, the bells ringing softly through Hightown. Hawke picked her up and carried her over the threshold and upstairs into his bedroom. The three servants observed with quiet smiles, going into their own section of the house to allow for privacy.
Hawke laid down with her in the bed, holding her against his chest.
"I should get cleaned up," he murmured.
"You do stink," Isabela commented, "Though I might not be much better. I think I need a bath, do you think I need one?"
Hawke played with her necklace, "Maybe after I get you a bit dirtier first."
Isabela giggled, "When I said I enjoy filthy sex, that wasn't exactly what I had in mind."
Hawke grinned, "Well, we needed to mix it up anyways. The romance is dead, isn't it? We could just be like pigs in the sty together."
"Well, today I was rescued like a maiden in one of Varric's stories," Isabela teased, "So maybe it's not quiet dead yet."
Hawke's face softened and he took one of her hands, kissing it softly.
"I'm so sorry," he murmured.
"It's not your fault," she said quietly.
"I know you're putting on a brave face," Hawke said softly, "But I know you were afraid. I was terrified too. I want to keep you safe. Both of you safe. I just..."
"Hey," she said, turning over to face him. He kissed her, holding her face in his hands. They moved softly together, gently taking off each piece of ruined clothing until they were bare in front of each other.
"How about that bath?" Isabela murmured.
Hawke picked her up again, causing a giggle. He smiled at her, that big goofy smile that had made her first fall in love with him. She leaned into his frame, smiling softly as he carried her into the bathroom and shut the door behind them.
