Flipping Coins, Aeden Hawke, After the Act 2 night with Fenris.
Bioware owns all, I just gratefully play in their sandbox.
Steering Shallow
When they met at the Hanged Man for their usual meeting, it became apparent none of them had seen Hawke for over a week. Isabela was inclined to think she'd been with Fenris, who likewise was missing, until he showed up and was as in the dark as the rest of them.
There was something different there, though, she knew. Fenris had that look of his, those downturned eyebrows and suddenly he was far more concerned than brooding. .
They were interrupted by one of Varric's runners. "Ser, thought you'd want to know…" Varric nodded the man over and he continued. "Them 'Dog Lords.' They've done been cleaned out. Just like them girls, um, them 'Sisters' a couple of nights ago."
"What?" Aveline managed to sound both happy and shocked. The Guards had been plagued by the bandits, who never seemed to show up in the same place twice and had been causing injuries and casualties to grow in number. Hawke had been lending a hand, trying to find the ghast holes that the groups were based in and clean up, but they hadn't yet found the leadership. Now, two of the worst had been wiped out in a matter of days.
"None of us, I assume?" Varric queried after he'd paid the informant.
"That can't be where Hawke's been?" Sebastian asked.
Merrill gaped, "By herself, surely. No. She's far too smart to do that on her own?"
"She's capable of it." Anders acknowledged. "We've been whittling down the bands, if we were closer than we realized, she might have been able to get to the leaders."
"One of us should run by the estate," Sebastian was insisting.
Fenris was far quieter than he usually would be if Hawke had done something foolish. Isabela realized. Oh, yes. Something's up.
"Elf…" Varric started but Fenris interrupted.
"I believe I would be the wrong choice." Guilt was written on his face.
Anders and Aveline had turned on him then and Isabela had given Varric a high sign as she slipped out.
-ooo-
She debated just breaking in but there were lights on in the lower rooms and so she just rapped the ornate knocker and Bodahn was there to let her in civilly.
"Mistress Hawke is in the kitchen."
"Mmm. Treats, then." Hawke had taken to bringing them occasional sweets now that she had spare coin. It was often hard to remember that the mercenary she was now had ever been a domestic child, but Leandra had claimed it to be true. When Isabela pushed open the kitchen door though, the fire had been banked and Hawke was at the table, cleaning and sharpening her daggers.
"Ah, here you are."
"Hullo, Bela. Wondered when someone would wonder." Hawke tested the balance of the knife, frowned and returned the blade to the stone. Running her eyes over the rogue, checking for injuries, Isabela realized that Hawke had worn the black leathers she had worn before the Deep Roads. Far better for dark work than the more flamboyant spelled set she usually wore now. The hood she used to keep her cropped, dark red hair out of the light was pushed back around her shoulders. She still bore traces of the soot she used to dull her pale skin smeared across her nose and cheeks.
"Varric just found out." Isabella slid onto one of the kitchen benches. She had debated how to feel Hawke out and went with greedy. "You could have shared, you know. I could use the coin."
A purse landed in front of her with a clunk. "The 'Bleeder' as he called himself, somewhat appropriately, had that pretty blade, there, if you want that, too. "
Isabela picked it up to test its heft. "Too pretty for the likes of him, true." She slid it into her side scabbard and bulled forward. "You ever going to say what brought this on, then?"
"'What brought this on?'" Hawke mimicked the Rivani's accent. "Isabela, this is what I do. I slit throats and loot corpses to fund my mother's lifestyle." Hawke was looking at Isabela with an arched eyebrow and that crooked smile, but her eyes were cold and shuttered against some hurt.
"You don't have to do it alone. We like grave robbing, too." Hawke snorted and Isabela smiled. She couldn't let Hawke wallow in self-disgust, but she can't resist the jibe, either. "Plus, we all know that the looting is just to cover for the throat-slitting. You'd do that anyway."
"Probably." Hawke acknowledged. "I just wanted to be alone."
Isabela raised her own brow. "That's a dangerous habit to get into. For me, I mean. If you suddenly realized you don't need backup, I'd be out on my ass and I'd never get my ship."
The other rogue chuckled, then stretched and popped her neck. "You'd bounce, pirate." She could see a few smudges, bruises maybe, along the slender length, and had the urge to run her tongue down that white throat. Hawke had been a favorite of hers for a bedwarmer before she'd gone and let a certain elf distract her. They'd spent a night or two bunking up, when Gamlen's shack had gotten too crowded or they were just bored. Nothing serious, but fun, the way they'd both seemed to prefer. But something had gone and made Hawke serious about something, and apparently Isabela was the only one to ferret it out.
"What happened?" She asked in honest concern.
Hawke rubbed at her forehead, transferring some of the stone oil. "The same thing that always happens, Bela. I touched something shiny, I broke it and pain poured out. I'm probably lucky demons didn't show up to fight me in my all-together."
"What shiny thing did you touch…wait, is this about Fenris? Is that why he showed up tonight looking like he'd been murdering kittens and wearing your house crest? Did you fuck him?"
She rolled her eyes at the other women's directness. "Yes."
Isabela widened her painted eyes and nodded, "And….?"
"And he left." Sharp tones. Sharks and reefs ahead, captain. Best to be ruthless.
"Did you want flowers?" She singsonged.
"NO, Flameitall." Hawke pushed away from the table and started to pace, which was better than the way she'd been fondling that dagger, thought Isabela. "Look," she muttered. "I can't believe I'm telling you this…I knew he might have issues with sex."
Isabela gaped, truly surprised. "He wasn't a virgin?"
Hawke sighed, exasperated. "No. I don't imagine I know anything about slavery, Bela, but I am fairly sure you don't get to say 'no, thanks' to the man who owns you."
"Ah." That was a likely truth.
Hawke was back at the table picking up the little throwing knife she carried and letting it thunk point down into the oak, over and over, punctuating her phrases. "I knew it. I should have been slow. Let him….lead…I thought I had been. But we were arguing and that voice…It started rough and I wasn't thinking."
Isabela couldn't help her smirk. "Best times are when you don't think."
"Maybe." Hawke acknowledged. "But it ended wrong, somehow." She shrugged as if trying to shift it from her shoulders. "I'm not talking about this any more. I screwed up, again." She looked up at Isabela, with a hooded, smoky look in her eyes that the pirate remembered well. Andraste's pretty tits. "We haven't been out in a dragon's years, Isabela."
She answered cautiously. "'Tis true, sadly. You've been trying to be a good girl."
"For all the good that's done me." Hawke purred. Maker blast it all, Hawke was hard to resist when she started pouring on the charm. Isabela groaned inwardly as the other woman's stance shifted and she slinked forward. Like a candle snuffed out, Hawke was a different woman, back to being the sweet-faced, sly-eyed merc who had strolled into the Hanged Man like she owned it. Isabela was a sucker for a slink.
"Take me out, Bela. Ply me with strong drink and whisper filthy things in my ear." Hawke leaned against Isabela's chair and ran an oily finger across the pirate's collarbone. "Lie to me a little." Isabela knew, knew she was after some reassurance and some respite against the darkness in her own head and for once, Isabela wasn't sure it was a good idea. She'd seen the way those two looked at each other, when they thought no one was looking. And even with Hawke's smoky look, there's still an ache there. So…
She looked up at Hawke with her own best grin. "I'll lie to you a lot. As long as you promise me you won't hate yourself in the morning."
It's bitter, that crooked smile. "I would. I hate myself right now, trying to use you." Rocks ahead. Steer right.
"I'll still take you out, though. And whisper. We can see if we can still make the boys stare and if they try and touch, we can cut their fingers off!"
Hawke chuckled. "You say the sweetest things, Bela."