Disclaimer: Not making a profit, just having fun.
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Three Is a Crowd
Chapter 01
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It was a particularly busy and festive night in the Hanged Man. Corff was barking orders at Edwina and Norah who, between running from one table to another, either ignored him or told him to shove it, specifically the ale barrel he had been pestering them to fetch. At the bar, a bad poet spouted verses about a dusky goddess, how her beauty had enchanted the Champion of Kirkwall and how he wished to worm his way between them.
An Antivan trading ship had docked some hours ago, and now its crew was in the process of docking in Kirkwall's finest, filthiest tavern, where just about every Lowtown whore had flocked to welcome the sailors with open arms and open legs.
Isabela was at her favorite table, playing cards with three Antivan sailors who likely thought they were going to get drinks, coin and sex by the night's end. The local patrons - the sober ones, of which there were few - looked on with amusement, knowing that these gentlemen would be walking away with empty pockets and blue balls.
"It is still so difficult to believe how Castillon lost his ship," one of the sailors said, the one who was about as broad and tall as a Qunari. "Such a careless, costly mistake. A mistake men like him are not supposed to make."
"Men like him," another snorted, a lanky young man with a deep voice and an exaggerated Antivan accent. "Men like him," he repeated, this time looking at her and flashing her a charming smile, "are clearly ill-prepared and ill-suited to handle women like you, my dear."
Isabela giggled and leaned forward, allowing a more generous view of her cleavage. The three sailors took full advantage of her generosity, making it even easier for her to cheat.
"Not that it isn't a pleasant surprise, boys," she cooed, adding more coins to the already impressive pile on the table, "but I really wasn't expecting anyone from Antiva to hear about this so soon. It hasn't been long since we took the ship from Castillon."
The lanky pirate chuckled as he threw in a few sovereigns of his own.
"These things travel quickly among seamen, some more than others."
Isabela smirked.
"Is that so?"
He grinned and began to inch closer to her.
"It is so, indeed, and I would gladly tell you which-"
"We?" the third sailor blurted out, rudely interfering his now sour friend. "Is it true, then, what they say?"
Isabela made sure to give the man her full attention.
"And just what do they say, exactly?" she asked, looking right into his blue eyes.
"That the Champion of Kirkwall gutted Velasco and presented Castillon's ship to you as a token of her love."
Isabela, who had been in the middle of changing her hand, stopped and blinked. She was about to protest - likely a very indignant, very incredulous, "What?" - when someone suddenly grabbed her wrist and she instead let out a horribly embarrassing squeal.
"Why are you here?" came a growl from behind her.
It took a moment, but Isabela recognized the voice and relaxed. She looked up and found blue eyes - bluer and prettier than the sailor's - looking back at her. With a smirk, she set her cards down and placed her hand over the fingers that were still wrapped around her wrist.
"Is there somewhere else I should be, sweet thing?" she purred, stroking the back of her captor's hand with her thumb.
"My, my," the lanky sailor chimed, "is this the Champion of Kirkwall?"
The other two sailors blatantly ogled along and murmured in approval.
"I must say, Champion," the largest of the men said, "that likeness of you in the docks does your beauty a great disrespect. Ah, but not even the greatest artist of our time could replicate such a gorgeous face on any medium, much less in cheap stone."
Isabela barely stopped herself from snickering.
"We haven't heard that one in a while, have we?"
Hawke's expression didn't change - which, Isabela realized, wasn't very expressive at all - and it was as if the three sailors had not said a word, as if they weren't even there.
"The estate," the Champion said simply.
"The estate?" Isabela parroted, clearly not expecting an answer like that.
Hawke muttered something about pirates and riddles and not being in the mood. Then, with a huff, she let go of Isabela's wrist and gingerly laced their fingers together, tugging meaningfully.
"'Bela, let's go."
Isabela smiled innocently and lifted her free hand to her necklace, absently toying with the chain that held a certain Rivaini talisman.
"Go where, sweet thing? To the mansion?" she teased, noticing her lover's eyes on her neck. "I don't remember getting an invitation."
Hawke forcibly looked away and snorted.
"Like you need one."
Isabela smirked.
"Is that an offer?"
Hawke's lips twitched, about to curve into what looked like a smile, but when a large hand grasped their still entwined fingers, the Champion scowled, and what a vicious, vicious scowl it was.
The lanky sailor, the unfortunate, oblivious fellow who was attached to the offending appendage, grinned smugly.
"So, Champion, this offer," he droned, "is it available to interested parties? Because I am very, very interested, and it would be an honor to visit the Champion of Kirkwall's abode, to... indulge in every fine detail of it."
For a moment, Hawke simply stared at the man.
"No," she said, then kicked his chair away.
The sailor's chin smashed on the table and he dropped to the floor, clutching his face with both hands as he spat out a tooth and howled in pain. His two friends immediately stood up, drawing patrons and sailors alike to the table.
"Now, now, Champion," the sailor with the not-so-impressive blue eyes said as he held his hands up in peace, "we do not wish to cause trouble in your city. My brother here, he has no understanding of boundaries, believes it to be endearing when he invades a lady's personal space, so forgive him if he-"
By the time Isabela realized Hawke was no longer holding her hand, the Champion had stalked over to the sailor and leveled him with a solid punch in the eye.
"Savage bitch," the Qunari-sized sailor spat, lunging at Hawke.
Isabela, being the thoughtful lover she was, tripped the man as he ran past her and sent him barreling into a group of onlookers. She then picked up his coin purse, which he had conveniently dropped, and proceeded to help herself with to the pot.
When the large man managed to get back on his feet, he had shoved two of his fellow sailors into a bunch of Kirkwallers and almost took a swing at Norah. After that, several blind punches and insults were thrown, arguments rose about which whore had been on whose arm and soon, the tavern erupted into an outright brawl.
Done collecting her winnings, Isabela weaved through the crowd of bodies and flying fists, searching for her lover. She found Hawke by the bar, mockingly dodging the punches of two drunk sailors while Corff sobbed about the wasted ale and the cost of the damages.
Eventually, the sailors decided that beating on each was better than trying to catch the Champion of Kirkwall, who didn't have the decency of staying in one place.
"Picking fights with drunkards now, are we?" Isabela murmured as she approached Hawke. "If you were feeling this frisky, you should have just said so. We could have found a much better way to pass the time."
Hawke rolled her eyes.
"Why do you think I was trying to get you out of here? Let's go. Now."
Isabela laughed and wrapped her arms around Hawke's neck.
"Well, if you're in such a hurry," she teased, leaning in close, "my room is right there, you know."
"Fine," Hawke relented, then pulled her in for a rough, demanding kiss.
"Mmm," Isabela moaned when they broke apart. "Starting brawls just to have sex me, sweet thing?" she asked breathlessly. "What's the Captain of the Guard going to say when she hears about this?"
Hawke scoffed.
"The Captain of the Guard can sod off."
Isabela just blinked at first, then she smiled, and then she began to giggle madly.
"Oh, you know just how turn a girl on," she purred, taking Hawke's hand and making a break for her room.
When Isabela woke up the next morning, there was a distinct stinging sensation on her ass and an even more distinct lack of Hawke at her side. She rolled on her back and hissed when something small and blunt jabbed the back of her neck. Cursing, she reached back and grabbed the damnable object, then blinked when she saw that it was a sovereign.
Propping herself up on one elbow, she found several other coins scattered on the bed and even more on the floor. At the bedside table was an empty coin purse, the one she had swiped from the sailor, and it was then she remembered how Hawke had enthusiastically fucked her as she lay atop the small pile of treasure she had looted last night.
She sat up and winced, courtesy of her very sore ass. Grumbling affectionately about her conveniently absent lover, Isabela stood up and headed for the bath.
Later, Isabela walked out of her room with a smile on her face. The tavern was an utter mess, with ale, broken furniture and unconscious people on the floor. She looked around, noticing that Norah and Edwina were nowhere in sight. Her smiled turned into a smirk when she saw Hawke by the bar, cheerfully chatting up an extremely grumpy Corff. Hawke noticed her and grinned crookedly.
"Slept well, 'Bela?" came the playful greeting.
Isabela kept smirking and strutted over to the bar.
"Depends on what you mean by sleep, sweet thing," she played along, bringing a hand up to affectionately pat Hawke's face, "and that's all thanks to you."
Hawke sighed dramatically.
"It's always my fault. What's next, Varric blaming me for missing out on the fun last night?"
Isabela giggled and dropped her hand to Hawke's hip.
"He could certainly bullshit his way about it. Isn't the Merchants Guild still riding his ass for information on those crazy Carta bastards who wanted you dead?"
"My blood," Hawke said. "They wanted my blood."
"To summon a big, smelly talking darkspawn," Isabela added. "That really doesn't make it better, sweet thing. Makes it worse, actually. Usually, people just want to kill you."
"And that's my fault, too?"
Isabela grinned and slipped her hand further down to squeeze Hawke's ass.
"You do attract the strangest types."
"Yes," Hawke purred, "like lust-addled pirates."
Isabela laughed and helped herself to another squeeze.
"Ooh, touché."
"Get outta here," Corff spat from behind his mug. "I've got enough trouble! First Norah and Edwina leave me here to deal with the guards and now I gotta clean up on my own. I don't need you fucking on the counter when I'm trying to scrub the blood off it."
Hawke raised an eyebrow at the angry, rambling bartender, then turned back to Isabela with a grin.
"Looks like we'll have to find some other place to fuck. The floor, perhaps?"
Isabela grinned back.
"Moving a little too fast there, sweet thing. Why don't we start on a nice, soft bed and work our way to the floor?"
"Tempting," Hawke hummed in agreement, "but I don't see a nice, soft bed anywhere."
"I have one in my room. It's not very nice and it's not really soft, but it's a bed."
"Ah, I suppose that will have to do."
Corff slammed down his mug.
"To the Void with you both!" he screeched. "Out! Out!"
The two women left, giggling all the way.
After a quick, satisfying romp, Isabela had a smug expression on her face and a dazed, breathless Hawke snuggled up to her body. There was a comfortable silence between them, one that Isabela spent running her fingers through her lover's hair.
"Maker," Hawke groaned a moment later, "that stings."
Isabela chuckled and gently patted her lover's sore, tender backside.
"Had to remind you who's on top, sweet thing."
She got a nuzzle and a nip on the ear for that.
"I think," Hawke breathed, "you should remind me more often."
"You want to go again?" Isabela asked, amused. "Is it going to be all day, every day now, Tiger?"
Hawke chuckled and buried her face in Isabela's neck.
"Mmm, as delightful as that sounds, 'Bela, I can't. Places to be, things to do, you know how it is."
Isabela raised an eyebrow.
"Is the Knight-Commander terrorizing the First Enchanter again?"
"When does she not?" Hawke grumbled, then sighed. "But, no. Not any more than usual, anyway. Seems like they've mostly behaved themselves since that squabble in the market. The Grand Cleric really should visit the Gallows regularly."
Isabela's eyebrow went higher.
"What for?"
Hawke gave a little shrug.
"I don't know, so when Meredith goes crazy, the Grand Cleric will just send her to her room and make her think about what she did or something."
Isabela snickered.
"Yes, that would be something."
Hawke pouted.
"You're making fun of me."
"Am not, you silly goose," she cooed, trailing her hand higher to stroke Hawke's back, providing a surprisingly effective distraction. "So, if you're not off to babysit this blasted city, what do you have to do today?"
"Errands, mostly," Hawke answered lazily. "I haven't restocked our supplies since our trip to the mountains. We're out of health potions and combustion grenades and I think we're low on everything else. I also have to go to that smith in Hightown, see if he's finished repairing our equipment."
"Don't you nobles have servants for this sort of thing?" Isabela quipped.
"I don't know if you've noticed, darling," Hawke crooned, pausing to briefly kiss her neck, "but I'm not a very good noble. If I were, I'd be married to Seneschal Bran's son, cooped up in the mansion and bemoaning with other noblewomen about being dreadfully rich, pampered and utterly bored as I am round with my dear husband's second child."
Isabela made a face, her expression a mix of confused and disturbed.
"You couldn't have stopped at 'not a very good noble'? I would have gotten the point."
Hawke pulled away a little and looked up at her with a pout.
"But it was the life my mother used to want for me. I wanted to share it with you."
"Ohh," Isabela said, as if finally coming to a realization, "so this is an in-a-relationship kind of conversation, then?"
"It is, it is," Hawke giggled, the sound infectious.
"All right, sweet thing, I'll bite," Isabela conceded, though she was smiling. "'Used to', you say? Did your mother change her mind? And Seneschal Bran, really? The man who looks constipated whenever he speaks to you?"
"His son looked just like that when we were introduced," Hawke said, "although the frustration he felt towards me seemed to be of a different nature."
"That so?"
"It was either that or he had a dinner spoon smuggled in his pocket when he decided, since we had known each other for two whole minutes, that it was appropriate to hug me."
"I'll bet he was hoping to fork you by the end of the night."
Hawke blinked, as if unable to believe what Isabela had just said, then abruptly broke into a fit of giggles that had Isabela laughing along within seconds.
"Maker, 'Bela," Hawke wheezed, eyes teary from laughing so much, "you are terrible."
Isabela preened.
"You love it."
"I do," Hawke easily agreed, then gave her a short yet loving kiss. "To answer your question, yes, Mother did change her mind. Shortly after she caught you walking around the estate naked, in fact."
"Oh, that," Isabela mumbled, actually blushing in embarrassment. "That was... awkward."
"Yes, I was there, unfortunately," Hawke drawled.
"At least you weren't naked, too."
"Small miracles."
"Speaking of nakedness," Isabela remarked, taking a moment to appreciate her lover's nude body pressed against hers, "we could have had a quick little tumble in the time we spent talking."
Hawke laughed and kissed her again.
"I'll make it up to you, I promise."
"Now would be nice," Isabela purred, snaking her hand back down to Hawke's ass. "Why don't you be a good noble, just this once, and send a servant to do your silly errands?"
"I'd need to stop by the Emporium," Hawke said, "and you know how Xenon is about lending that charm."
Isabela shrugged.
"So send a note along with the servant, or do it tomorrow."
"Or," Hawke chimed, "you could come with me."
"Already did, sweet thing. Twice, wasn't it?"
"'Bela, I'm serious."
"Are you?" Isabela teased. "I can never tell sometimes."
"Come on, it'll be fun," Hawke wheedled her, "like... like shopping!"
Isabela looked more amused than interested.
"Oh, I do like shopping..."
"And I'll be all yours after that," Hawke happily added, "unless, of course, you'd want to do some actual shopping. Regardless, I'd have no immediate plans, but I will be heading to the Gallows later this afternoon."
"Bethany's at the Gallows? Again?" Isabela asked, and when Hawke nodded, she shook her head. "I adore your sister, sweet thing, but she's really going about this being-freed-from-the-Circle-for-fighting-the-Qunari thing all wrong if she's there every single day. She hasn't been doing this for the past three years, has she?"
"Not every day, no," Hawke murmured, then rested her head on Isabela's chest.
"So why the sudden daily visits?"
Hawke frowned.
"Because of Father, I think. It's only been a few days since we found out what he had done in that Warden prison. Right now, I think Bethany feels more comfortable in the Circle, maybe even safer, too."
The silence that followed was unsettling, but Isabela didn't allow it to last for long.
"Tell you what, sweet thing," she whispered, "take with me with you and I'll lure your sister away away from the Circle with my new book."
Hawke frowned even more.
"It's a dirty book, isn't it?"
"Is there any other kind worth reading? And it has pictures!"
"Oh, that makes it so much bett-" Hawke stopped in the middle of her sarcastic remark and blinked. "Wait, you're only coming with me to the Gallows? What about our fun shopping errands?"
"About that, Hawke..." Isabela faltered, reluctantly dragging her hand away from her lover's ass. "I would love to go, and I would go, normally, but... I'm sore, I've barely slept and, balls, I'm exhausted. How are you not the least bit tired?"
Hawke raised an eyebrow.
"Yet you were asking for more sex."
Isabela huffed.
"Of course I was! What else would I rather do before I fall asleep?"
"Me."
"Exactly!"
Hawke chuckled and, after a short pause, asked, "If this is what you wanted from the start, 'Bela, why didn't you just tell me?"
Isabela winked.
"Because you're cute when you beg."
"I would hardly consider that begging, especially not after the things you made me say half an hour ago."
"It was still cute," Isabela cooed, and when Hawke started to smile, she tapped her lover on the nose. "So, it's settled, then? You let me get some much needed sleep, then you strut your pretty little ass back here later this afternoon and we'll go to your sister together."
Hawke looked skeptical.
"By 'we', do you mean me, you and that dirty book?"
"I could bring Sebastian instead, if you prefer," Isabela graciously offered.
Hawke scowled.
"Just take the blasted book."
"Suddenly changed your mind about him, sweet thing?" Isabela teased. "Wasn't that a chuckle of approval I heard from you when he made Bethany blush like a virgin?"
"I approved of him letting her know there's one more person in this wretched world who thinks it isn't wrong to be a mage," Hawke muttered grudgingly, then scowled again. "That doesn't mean he's allowed to continue examining my sister for any evidence of the Maker's fallibility."
Isabela stifled a laugh.
"We need to talk about your issues someday."
"My issues?" Hawke sputtered. "You want to talk about my issues?"
"Someday," Isabela helpfully reminded her lover, still struggling not to laugh. "And, yes, your issues. They are far more serious than mine."
Hawke looked ready to retort, but when Isabela resumed stroking her hair, she conceded, lovingly murmuring, "Only you, 'Bela," and settling for nuzzling the pirate's breasts.
"What will you do until we we have to head to the Gallows?" Isabela asked. "After your errands, that is."
Hawke reluctantly stopped showing appreciation for her breasts and, when the question began to sink in, the Champion smirked devilishly at her.
"Don't worry about me, 'Bela. I'll find something to do, maybe check up on the others, see what they're doing. After all, I've gone three years without you. What's a few hours?"
Isabela frowned.
"Are you still bringing that up?"
Hawke nodded happily.
"You look so cute when you're feeling guilty about leaving me. Do you know how long you were gone? I can tell you, down to the exact second."
Isabela's eyes widened.
"Can you?"
"Maker, no," Hawke laughed, but sobered up quickly. "It was all a blur of killing people, wallowing in self-pity, attending one noble party after another and Bethany telling me I'd get fat if I kept eating a week's worth of pancakes in one sitting. You know, you made the most delicious pancakes. I never could make them like you did. No one could, not even Bethany."
"Marian..." Isabela started to say.
"You came back, 'Bela," Hawke murmured sweetly, utterly smitten. "It was worth it."
"Ahh, balls," Isabela cursed, covering her face with her hand in a futile attempt to hide how badly she was blushing.
Thankfully, Hawke took mercy on her.
"Sex in the bath?"
"Ooh," she giggled, "we haven't done that in a while."
"Blighted women, I'm telling you, nothing but a whole lot of mess and trouble," Corff grumbled to his most recent sympathetic listener.
Varric, sitting at a nearby table that was luckily spared in the brawl, didn't respond at first. He regarded Corff quietly, observing carefully as the sullen, drunk bartender mopped the floor and took a swig with every other sweep of the mop.
"You know, Corff," he finally said, shaking his head, "all these years, I used to wonder why you never drink. Now I know, and I think I liked it better when I thought you were deathly afraid of being drunk because you were the kind of guy who would swim to the Gallows to serenade the Knight-Commander and promise to whisk her away and take off into the night sky on a speed griffon."
Corff gave him a strange look, one that went from angry to wounded and then settled on something in between.
Varric held his hands up.
"Hey, now, some of that material is yours. I thought you'd appreciate it, coming from a fellow storyteller."
"Shove it, dwarf," Corff spat.
Varric chuckled.
"Maker, you're depressing, and I'm saying that after a meeting with the Merchants Guild. It's a good thing you're sober most of the time. This gloomy, intoxicated disposition doesn't exactly help with your job."
"Job," Corff snorted, clumsily pulling up two chairs and dragging them over to a table. "I'd be done with this if not for those blighted women. Norah and Edwina are supposed to be helping me. See if I pay them for the rest of the month!"
"Not paying Edwina is almost as dangerous as flirting with her," Varric pointed out, sounding genuinely concerned. "Well, unless you're Hawke. It's been years, but I still can't believe Hawke had Edwina giggling like a shy, innocent farm girl in just five minutes. Lost ten sovereigns that day. Heh. One of the best bets I ever made in my life."
Corff sneered at the mention of Hawke and began to spout off another tirade.
"Bah, some Champion she is! There I was, trying to scrub the counter, and our beloved Champion would rather fuck Isabela on it than offer to aid me. Then, when I asked them to take it elsewhere, they had the gall to consider fornicating on the floor! Tell me, dwarf, what kind of Champion puts her own needs before her people? A self-"
"Wait, wait, wait," Varric urgently, hastily cut in. "Are you saying two beautiful women were about to make love on the counter - that counter over there - and you stopped them? No, you didn't just stop them, you told them to leave. You told them to leave, and when they thought about using the floor instead, you, once again, told them to leave."
Corrf's response was as deadpan as his expression.
"I needed to clean up."
"Dear Maker," Varric mumbled in disbelief. "Forget depressing. You, my friend, are one crazy, nug-humping bastard of a drunk. Either that or you're a better gentleman than I, but we both know how unlikely that is. Besides, crazy is always more interesting."
Coff scoffed.
"You want more crazy? We've got too much of it going around this damned city already."
Varric smiled, but it was a weary smile. He thought of templars and mages and what Isabela said weeks ago, how it felt like something big was about to happen and Hawke was probably going to be in the middle of it. He reached over his shoulder and patted Bianca. Like he had told Hawke, he and Bianca were ready for it.
"First time you made any sense since I got here, Corff," he said, raising his mug to the bartender and standing up. "Well, I had a long night and you just ruined my morning. I think I'm going to turn in before it gets any worse."
He placed a few coins on the table and walked into the hallway. As he made his way to his room, he saw Hawke standing outside of Isabela's room, her hand on the closed door. Shaking his head and grinning, he began to approach her.
"Already thinking about seconds, Hawke?" he teased.
Hawke turned to him, eyebrow cocked, but she didn't say anything.
"Just a figure a speech when it comes to you two, of course," Varric went on, chuckling. "I'm sure you had your actual seconds very, very shortly after the first. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you and the Rivaini are trying to make up for the last three years. Actually, I don't know any better. Care to enlighten me, or should I just run with this story?"
"Something you want, Varric?" Hawke asked, as though he had not been talking just a moment ago.
"Bullshit it is, then," Varric decided, answering his own question. "And I just thought we could have a little chat, but since you asked, I have been meaning to talk to you about something."
"Yes?"
"I'm hoping this something turns out to be a whole lot of nothing," he started, sighing. "I'm worried about Daisy. She's been spending most of her days staring at that mirror. Isabela gets her to go outside every now and then, but it doesn't seem to do her any good."
Hawke faced him, completely turning her back on Isabela's room.
"What is she doing with the mirror?"
Varric shook his head.
"I don't know. She's not doing anything right now other than stare at it, which in itself is very concerning already. Isabela and I have been talking to her and it's gotten us nowhere. I think it'll be different if you do it, Hawke. I know that mirror is a touchy issue with you and Daisy, but maybe that's what will make her listen to you, or at least tell you what's going through her mind."
Hawke scowled, but eventually sighed.
"I'll talk to her."
Varric smiled gratefully.
"I'll head over to the Alienage with you if you want some company, or some back up. We don't have to go now if you and the Rivaini-"
He stopped talking when he realized Hawke was already walking away.
"I'll take that as a no," he said to the spot where Hawke had been.
AN: I apologize for the overload of fluff. It's embarrassing how long I've been working on this and I only have one chapter to show for it.
Also, in case anyone is curious, or I did an utterly horrible job of at least hinting these things: it's post-Legacy, set in Act 3; Isabela has confessed her love to Hawke and now they're a happy couple because angst makes me sad; Meredith hasn't asked Hawke to track down the three apostates yet.
I also ripped off some Legacy banter somewhere up there. Oh, and Bethany isn't in the Circle anymore because I thought it was ridiculous that Meredith was completely aware Anders was a mage, and yet she didn't throw him in the Gallows since he was the Champion's friend. If the Champion's friend gets a free pass then so should the Champion's sister.