Isabela ran through the crowds of Hightown, desperate to see Hawke. The mage had been missing for three days now, and Isabela's contacts had only just reported having seen her back in her home.
The annoyed cries of people followed Isabela through the streets, names like whore and slattern being thrown about - not that she cared.
She got to the door of Hawke's estate, and a lump formed in her throat. Something was wrong, she just knew it. Hawke would have come to see her as soon as she got back from wherever she had been. Isabela shook away her discomfort; Hawke could look after herself, there was no way something was wrong with the Champion.
She knocked on the door, and Bodhan answered, cracking the door open just a little. "You might not want to see her right now," he said, his voice quiet and sad. A sudden burst of anger rushed through her and she pushed the dwarf out of the way.
"I need to," she hissed.
She was greeted by the sight of Hawke's back; the mage was standing in front of the fireplace even though there was no flame.
"Hawke?" Isabela said cautiously, slowly reaching her hand out.
Hawke turned around, her short black hair just covering up a wound on her forehead. Isabela gave a sigh of relief, grateful that was all she had suffered. She circled her arms around the smaller woman's neck and pulled her in for a kiss. But Hawke was unresponsive; she just stood there as Isabela moved her lips against hers.
Isabela pulled away, a confused look on her face, "What's wrong sweet thing? Not in the mood?" Her hazel eyes searched Hawke's blue ones but found nothing; that usual light humour was gone, replaced by emptiness. "Hawke... Please," her voice wavered.
Hawke's voice was devoid of emotion as she spoke, "I have memories of us, Isabela, but I do not have feelings anymore. I do not feel anything anymore."
Isabela brushed Hawke's hair behind her ear. It was not a wound but a sunburst branded on her forehead; naming her as a tranquil. A small strangled cry escaped Isabela's throat; she would kill Meredith for this.
Her Hawke was no more; she was a husk of a person, the fun and adventurous personality long gone, and there was nothing Isabela could do. Running from this wouldn't work; the empty look in Hawke's blue eyes would follow her wherever she went.
Isabela hugged Hawke close, burying her head in Hawke's neck, inhaling the scent of the smaller woman's skin. Tears prickled at the corners of Isabela's eyes as she guided one of Hawke's hands to rest on her back - something to know she was still there - she hadn't cried for years, she wasn't going to let herself now.
"You idiot, Hawke!" Isabela shouted as she drifted backwards from her lover, "How could you get yourself caught? How could you have let this be done to you?"
"I do not know how to answer these questions. I do not understand your anger. Now Kirkwall can go back to the way it was before I upset the order of mage and Templar."
It hurt Isabela to hear what her Hawke was saying; the woman that had fought hard against the Templar order, and had mourned when her brother betrayed her and joined them…. Carver!
That little selfish dick must have known this was happening. He was a Templar - there was no way he could have not known. Yet he did not say anything to any of them, he didn't try stop it. He might not have killed his sister but nonetheless, he destroyed her.
Isabela kissed Hawke's unresponsive lips quickly. "I will fix you Hawke - I swear it. I am not running this time; I am going to make you, you again." And she knew just who she had to turn to for help, though Maker knew it was the last thing she wanted to do.