Author's Notes:A collection of 'what if' vignettes exploring the complex (but nonexistent) relationship between Sebastian Vael and Isabela.
Beta: Sadly no beta here. So my apologies to any and all grammar nazi's out there. This story will make your eyes bleed (not intentionally of course!) but you have been warned.
'See her by the corner
Then she walks on by
Heads turn to meet her
Steely eyed
She's her own girl
Her own design
She holds her head high
Hides her scars just fine...'
Untouchable One - Red Rider
It was not Sebastian's pious attitude, nor his constant need to speak the lessons of Andraste, that threatened to drive Isabela mad. Even his blathering about prayers and praises, did not faze her. He was handsome in his own right, the sort of beauty one always associated with nobility or the wealthy. The young prince might have caught many a young women eye, but to the pirate queen he was hardly worth noting. It only took a simple admittance, a passing confession for Isabela's world to come undone.
'I used to be like you, you know,' Sebastian began, as they followed Hawke. Isabela resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she braced herself for the preaching that was certain to follow.
'Before I came here, I used to be out to all hours, drinking and whoring. I didn't believe in anything except my own pleasure. In time, I grew weary of the strings of nameless lovers and the nights full of mindless pleasure. You will, too.'
Isabela did not believe his words, for the prince was not worldly man bound by passions, or desires of the flesh. His words echoed in her thoughts, whenever Isabela caught a rare glimpse of the passion that flickered in Sebastian's blue eyes. It whispered in her ears when his skilled fingers danced over his quiver of arrows, before plucking one out for his bow. The way his form would arch perfectly whenever he set his mark, and made a kill. In time, she came to understand that he had not been lying at all. Sebastian's desires were far more alive than Isabela imagined he would ever care to admit. The fire he believed to be long since buried was right in plain sight, if not just out of reach.
The Chantry claimed that 'true passion was only felt through restraint'. The pirate was certain that same rule also applied to madness.
'You never speak of your life, the one you had before you gave it all up to be a chantry boy,'she asked as they made their way through the streets of high town. It was an amusing challenge, one Isabela half expected the prince would resist. To her lack of surprise, he took the bait at a price.
'Tell me yours, and I'll tell you mine,' he replied with a hint of a smirk. Their discussion always started the same, teasing banter, unexpected challenges and an unspoken promise of more to come.
'Ooh, the chantry boy does play dirty after all,' Isabela purred mischievously.
'I never said I was a saint.' he answered with a grin. Isabela humoured him, she always did. At first, the pirate's secrets remained her own; it was not his place to intrude. Yet as time passed, she began to speak of the life she once knew; cautiously allowing the young prince brief glimpses into her world.
