Eve and Cassandra were adamant on joining Leliana. The Inquisitor because she sensed a rare opportunity to discover some secret from the left-leaning Divine. Cassandra simply because she detected danger. Regardless of their motives, both strapped on weapons before following their companion from the council room. Every problem felt more manageable with a sword. Leliana halted them at the door to the judgment hall, eyeing both warriors skeptically.

"She asked to speak with me, yes? I would prefer to do the talking." There was that iron tone again, the suggestion turned command. Letting the silver tongued spymaster lead discussions was never a bad decision. She held facts, secrets and tricks that no one could ever anticipate. Empires might rise or crumble on the turn of her words. Yet there was a touch of worry in the line of her mouth, a suggestion that this coming encounter would be different than others. Who could so rattle the unflappable Leliana?

As if to reveal the answer they stepped into the main hall, Leliana gesturing for her companions to follow her stealthy lead. The vaulted chamber was surreptitiously emptying as Josephine moved through the crowd, subtly urging them away. The touch of an elbow, a briefly whispered word, a disarming smile; Josephine played crowds like a conductor of the royal orchestra and they simply melted away. The Antivan spotted her three associates as they moved quietly into the room and she nodded imperceptibly in the direction of a table at the far wall. The sign was redundant. There could be no missing this spectacle. It reminded Eve of the artwork she'd seen in Val Royeaux, tastefully debauched.

A woman reclined atop one of the tables, a bottle of wine in one hand as she expounded some lesson in weaponry to her audience. Guards, young noblemen and even a few servants had gathered around her, many sitting as close as possible and every one of them rapt with fascination. She twisted towards one of the younger, richer blue-bloods, teasing the fringe of his hair as she smoothly drew his sword completely free from its scabbard.

The Inquisitor's instincts started her forward, hand reaching for her own weapon but a gesture from Leliana stayed the move. If the redhead believed there was no threat then the warriors obeyed. Besides, Sister Nightingale could throw a dagger with deadly precision faster than Eve could cover the ground. They stepped closer, approaching from an angle the foreign woman couldn't see. Not that she was bothering to try. She was busy studying the expensive blade in her hand.

"Inlaid with gold and polished to a mirror shine. You can tell so much about a man by his weapon," she observed, leaning coyly towards the proud owner, "And you think far more of yours than anyone else ever will. You've never stuck anybody with this skinny thing and you wouldn't know how if you had the chance. This toy will never see use beyond your own polishing hand."

The audience burst into laughter as she shoved the sword back into the flushed noble's grip. He burst to his feet, intent on defending his honor but before his mouth opened there was a dagger scraping beneath his chin. Eve looked to Leliana yet was still denied permission to intervene.

"Don't get me wrong, Sonny, sometimes a little prick is all you need. But then you really have to know what you're doing." She purred, letting the tip of the weapon trace the line of his throat. When he'd turned sufficiently white, the woman withdrew the blade. Dismissed by an amused but disdainful smirk the humiliated noble skulked away. Taunts and appreciation from the rest of the men filled the air as the foreign woman drank long and heavy from a bottle of wine, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm.

"Now," she declared, resuming her subject with enthusiasm, "This is a real sword,"

She shifted towards one of the guards and slid her fingers along his belt before bringing them to rest on the pommel at his hip,

"Not some pointed stick to whip out and waggle; this has heft. It has," she pulled the blade out slightly, appreciating the smooth glide, "Experience. Sharpened but no polish, you see? This is a man who fully intends to get his blade dirty. A lot."

Punctuating the last words she thrust the weapon back into its sheath. The guard winced at the movement; face flooding with the sort of discomfort he obviously wished would never stop. The other men were all either grinning like naughty children or drooling in jealousy. The charged air was moments from an orgy or a bloodbath.

Cassandra lost her patience and strode forward. This time Leliana didn't interfere.

"Enough! Back about your business, all of you." The bite of the Nevarran's words hit every face like a slap; no one dared to meet her gaze. The hormonal spell thus broken, the crowd scattered guiltily; some of the men walking more awkwardly than others. Only the woman remained, pouting as she watched her army of admirers disperse.

"Someone isn't very fun," she sighed and turned to size up the interrupter, eyes slipping past the Seeker and straight to Leliana with what could only be called wicked delight, "Nightingale! I knew you wouldn't leave me waiting long."

She rose languidly from the table and prowled towards them. Eve had never seen such movement; all predatory seduction and cocksure swagger. How had the woman walked through the courtyard of Skyhold without causing pandemonium? No wonder she's cold, The Inquisitor's eyes swept over scant clothing, Only person who wore less was Morrigan and she had magic to keep warm. The Inquisitor wondered if she was staring. She felt like she was staring. Even Josephine was transfixed.

"Eager for another singing lesson? Or has your instrument completely rusted from neglect?" The exotic visitor leaned one arm on Leliana's shoulder, pressing close enough to stage whisper into the redhead's ear but with her face turned to toss a wink at Eve.

Throughout every inch and bone of the Inquisitor's body her frustrated libido began to beat a staccato reminder of neglect. How long had it been? At first it hadn't felt important in the face of fear and adrenaline and ever-impending crises. Then it seemed smarter to keep such needs out of the picture; they'd only complicate the fragile relationships being formed, possibly even compromise their alliance. Eventually Eve decided to forgo any such indulgences out of respect; respect for the Inquisition, for its followers and ultimately for the object of her desire. Now, however, the muted need heard a siren call beckoning. Too fucking long. Being repressed out of necessity couldn't weaken desire, only wear out control.

"'Swallow' indeed. You are shameless, Isabela." Leliana's tone was easy and pleasant, amused that her old acquaintance would still bother to try such seductive tricks. The bard was apparently immune to the woman's wiles.

"Wait – THIS is Isabela? The pirate Isabela? The story one?" Eve vaguely recalled being told not to talk but that order flew out of her mind the second the name burst in. Isabela wasn't just a story, she was a legend. If even half of what Hawke and Varric said was true . . .

"There's only one, sweet thing." The dusky skinned woman smirked, basking smugly in her fame. Eve recalled Varric's description: 'The Rivaini pirate has the biggest, most supple, unbelievably exquisite . . . ego you will ever see.' Clearly that and more.

"My Lady Inquisitor, meet Isabela, the self-proclaimed Queen of the Eastern Seas." Leliana nodded between them, knowing there would be no proceeding with business until introductions were handled. There was a trace of sighing relief in her words, pleased that the foreign beauty's attention had turned to their leader. Eve might have noticed if she weren't so fascinated by the amber gaze now consuming her. The pirate's arched eyebrow was challenge, threat, mockery and seduction all crammed into one like wanton bedfellows.

"Ah, so you're what all the fuss is about," Isabela folded her arms and walked around the warrior critically, "I must say, you are quite the specimen. Your weapon, such a monster! Tell me you know how to use it."

Eve was acutely aware of the pressure of a touch gliding down the blade sheathed on her back. There was the faint jangling noise of her jewelry as she moved and the smell of wet sand.

"No one has complained yet." She shot back, noting the spike in her heart rate as Isabela leaned closer and Eve felt breath on her ear. She hadn't been this tempted since Imshael offered her a bribe of virgins. Desire Demon, Andraste's ass! He's got nothing on this woman.

"Mmm. Well said," Isabela murmured appreciatively, the purr raising every hair on the back of her neck, "Wielding a sword this size? That takes power. That takes . . .stamina."

Fingers gripping the scabbard tugged slightly and Eve instinctively shifted her weight, resisting the pull without breaking free. How long had it been since anyone toyed with her? Tested the edges of her charm?

"Just a matter of practice," the Inquisitor looked back, enough to see anticipation in the curl of Isabela's lips, "Though the right sparring partner helps."

The curl grew wider, the playful twist of her lips mirroring the expression in her eyes. They could keep this going for hours. Two conversations folded into the same words, a teasing dance enjoyable as much for its own artistry as for the desired outcome. The scrape of nails just below Eve's shoulder tingled down the length of her spine. Maker, I missed this. Sera was wonderfully lewd but lacked this finesse. Leliana was a practiced flirt but she always kept the Inquisitor in her place. Josephine was simply too sweet. Cassandra . . . Cassandra . . .

"That is the Sword of the Inquisition. A symbol of truth and justice. Not a phallic metaphor for your groping." Cassandra's disgusted tone was like a bucket of ice-melt poured down Eve's collar. She actually felt goose bumps rush over her skin as she spun and took a step back from the pirate. Further away from Isabela was good. Closer to the Seeker was better.

"Too bad. I love a good groping, metaphoric or not." The cheeky sailor winked to Cassandra before turning her attention back to the room around them. Now vacated except for the occasional scurrying servant there was plenty of space to roam. The pirate moved away, theatrically examining the massive hall the way she might survey the deck of a ship.

What just happened? Eve took a sobering breath. She stole a guilty glance at Cassandra but the other warrior was too busy glaring holes into the Rivaini's head.

"I do not think you simply came to exchange pleasantries. Something brought you here, yes?" Leliana probed, watching Isabela's movements with genial suspicion. She was indulging the woman, both of them playing innocent as only true sinners can.

"Your Inquisition has been quite in the thick of things lately, hasn't it?" the raven haired woman sauntered around the judgment seat, "And you, Songbird, have the sort of connections that can spread news easier than a cheap whore's legs."

Isabela paused her exploration, studying the protruding blades of the throne and running one finger over the dull edges. She lost herself in some distant musing; undoubtedly either dirty or violent. Possibly both.

"What of it?" the spymaster pressed gently, urging words into the silence.

The pirate wanted to evade the question. Eve could clearly see the instinct in the way her muscles coiled. There was a tension in her shoulders, bracing in the agony of fight-or-flight response. Whether she found internal courage or merely surrendered, her posture finally relaxed as she made a silent decision. She shifted, throwing off invisible weights and straightened, turning to Leliana.

"What have you heard from Weisshaupt?" Isabela's eyes were fixed firm on the redhead. The façade of casual indifference in her manner was cracked at the edges, concern bleeding into the question. Mention of the Grey Warden's stronghold charged the very air of the room. Suddenly the presence of the lustful rogue took on a more sinister import. The four women of the Inquisition exchanged glances, each silently asking Leliana for her secrets.

"Nothing of late. It's been silent." The redhead cautiously released a fraction of her knowledge.

Her words were guarded but true. It had been a matter of concern for weeks now, the loss of communication with the northern seat. Leliana's network informed her that wardens had been moving back into the southern kingdoms and that the order was fracturing like strained ice. Rumors were plentiful and more than once Blackwall had pinned a loose-mouthed gossip to the wall, ordering them not to prattle about things they couldn't know. His loyalty was unshakable but there was no denying his worried doubts.

"The last word from the wardens' fortress was that the Champion got there safely." Eve volunteered, earning a sharp glance from Leliana. The glare reminded her of the looks she used to get from her mother, a warning that one more infraction would have consequences. Time to be quiet, darling, the grown-ups are talking.

"Which is, of course, why you're really here," the spymaster turned her attention back to their visitor, "You're looking for Hawke."

"Sharp as mustard, aren't you?" Isabela's eyes rolled heavenward and she strolled back to the group, arms crossed, "But your sails aren't quite in the right direction. I already went hunting for her sweet ass."

"You went to Weisshaupt?" Cassandra momentarily forgot to scowl at the pirate. The question earned her a glare of her own from Leliana.

The new Divine was still a bard at heart. She loved the rhythm of the games, the dance of hints and half-truths as everyone tried to work out what was at stake. Her companions were clearly spoiling the fun. Still, this was their first chance for news of the stronghold and impatience preempted intrigue.

"Why not? Hawke wrote that she was heading there. I was enjoying a bit of sport with the slaving ships in the Nocen Sea," Isabela casually downplayed her efforts, "When I saw that the sky's glory hole was closed to business it seemed a good time to offer my congratulations."

"And a nicely worded letter just wouldn't do." Leliana had that tiny twist at the corner of her mouth again, the one that betrayed both her understanding and fondness for the duelist.

"Naturally. Hawke does so appreciate my personal touch." The seductress' fingertips deliberately brushed along the inner edge of her strained bodice. Cassandra's noise of disgust was ignored.

"Isabela," Leliana's voice had been nothing but dulcet and playful until now. Now it was loud. Loud and strangely hesitant,

"Isabela!" the call came again, Eve turning as she realized it wasn't Leliana who'd spoken. At the far end of the hall she could just make out what looked like a waif with a large stick coming in the massive entry doors,

"I know you told me to wait outside but there was a demon that kept trying to talk to me," the girl approached, turning this way and that as she took in the massive throne room and its ornamentation, "And you said I wasn't to talk to demons anymore but he seems quite nice so I wasn't sure and I thought I should come find you."

Each time something caught her eye the newcomer's feet instinctively followed. Her swerving progress abruptly checked when she collided with a servant, spilling the contents of his tray to the floor.

"Oh, sorry! Let me help!" she yelped, bending over to pick up the scattered goblets. Unfortunately, the staff (Eve could tell it was a staff now, not a stick) strapped to her back moved with her and promptly knocked the tray from his hands as well. The servant bent to catch the silver but missed and the sudden clatter startled the girl, making her jerk back up. The tip of her staff caught the servant in the chin and sent him reeling. Now he was desperately trying gather up the spilled items while avoiding the small woman who'd begun chasing him in a circle to offer help.

"Oh, Kitten." Isabela sighed with affectionate sympathy and went to aid her companion. With one hand on her friend's arm she shepherded her to the safety of their waiting circle.

"I should help fix that. I've been working on the healing spells." The little brunette Elf hadn't stopped looking over her shoulder, watching as the servant did his best to balance goblets on the tray without letting go of his bleeding face.

"He'll be fine, Kitten. A bandage and this story guarantee he'll get the rest of the day off." Isabela assured, urging her friend to focus ahead.

"Oh, I do hope you're right. Are these the friends we're looking for? Did you tell them already?" The mage looked at each of the Inquisition women in turn, eyes impossibly wide.

"She was just about to." Cassandra's bristling temper was hitting the breaking point. She had folded her arms into a posture that promised swift punishment for any further delays. Whom she would punish would have to be a matter of debate since - once more - noise burst into the echoing hall before Isabela could open her mouth. Cassandra's exasperated oath was lost beneath one much louder.

"Andraste's dimpled butt cheeks, Curly! If you're shitting me I will take my losses out of your hide! I was holding four knights with 30 silvers bet!" The coarse threat was followed with several more muttered curses that halted mid-syllable when Cullen finally dragged Varric in far enough to see the situation.

"Rivaini! Daisy!" the Dwarf greeted with genuine delight, "Just couldn't keep away from me, could you?"

"Varric, you smoldering stump! I sold that lock of your chest hair for 20 coppers and thought I should harvest some more." Isabela happily bent low to kiss her missed comrade's cheek and tease her fingers through the ever-exposed blond curls.

"Ah-ah. Bianca's been turning into the jealous sort. You know she has that hair trigger," he winked, immensely pleased with his own pun, "Daisy, look at you! You got all the way out here without a ball of string?"

"No, with a ship. Isabela's actually," Merril helpfully corrected, "Not all the way, of course. Can't sail up a mountain, can we? I mean, maybe with the right magic but I haven't tried and we were in a rush and the caravan was passing through and . . .,"

"Rambling, Kitten." Isabela put a calming hand on the Elf's shoulder. Merril took a deep breath.

"It's good to see you, Varric." She finally simplified, gratefully accepting a rib cracking hug.

"Anyone else coming, pirate? Perhaps that apostate who sparked the uprising?" Cassandra had clearly given up; if she didn't get to punch someone soon then she was going to storm away and destroy something helpless. Ser Morris was already complaining about how often he had to replace her training dummies. Leliana's fingers barely graced the Seeker's arm, a gentle request to stay patient just a little longer.

"Isabela, what happened? Why are you here?" the former bard managed with unassuming calm to command everyone's attention. Whatever excited chatter the reunited friends had been engaged in fell to silence. The charm and dignity that Leliana artfully wrapped around herself like a mantle demanded admiration from allies, obedience from followers and even begrudging respect from enemies. She was going to be a magnificent Divine.

Isabela scanned Leliana's face, seeing the seriousness that had taken hold. The time for bets and bluffing had ended; cards on the table. Her eyes swept over the others present. There was anticipation, confusion, trust and doubt; all held at bay awaiting her next words.

"Hawke is in trouble."


Feedback will help tremendously as getting the voices of these different characters to interact takes a lot of fine tuning. Comments and suggestions are also welcome.