Escape
Weary eyes watched intently as the amber liquid flowed into the mug before them, marvelling at the reflection of light that danced in its depths. The owner of such eyes almost laughed bitterly despite such a sombre mood while reflecting at the irony of the liquids colour. Ironic, because it occurred that the very substance that had dimly whispered promises of escape mere hours before, happened to contain such a vivid reminder of exactly that which had to be escaped.
Nevertheless, troubled eyes followed every flicker of light helplessly; the figure slumped before the glass recalling however pathetically that such an intriguing beauty in colour was nothing compared to the amber of 'her' gaze. Such a gaze that left one weak at the knees and completely defenceless in the face of her power, unable to do anything but grasp desperately to logic and hope that it would be enough to catch a breath against the sudden constriction in the chest. Under the watch of such seductive eyes, it was easy to get caught within the waves of something indescribable and terrifying, an emotion that pulled you under, deeper and deeper, until you could do nothing to escape from sinking.
In hindsight, it becomes obvious that escape had never been an option, it was just a desperate fantasy, no matter the logic of it… once hooked, there was no escape.
Still, as Aeryn Hawke stared blankly at the bar, drink in hand, she couldn't help but continue to try and fool herself into believing the fantasy. With enough alcohol, escape was always an option; she didn't have to care if she didn't want to. She didn't have to care that she had broken every one of her rules by falling in love, nor did she have to care that the woman he had fallen for was so very much like her: desperate to avoid any kind of feelings. She didn't even have to care that Isabela had confessed falling for her not one week before very loudly expressing her desire to bed some Antivan assassin.
No. She didn't care at all.
Sighing, Hawke lifted the mug to her lips, desperately hoping that more alcohol could drown out the memory of all that had taken place.
"Do you have to?" She muttered angrily through gritted teeth, trying desperately to keep the nonchalant expression and carefree smile she was so famed for.
"You can come too."
Hawke cringed inwardly, downing the contents of her glass in a renewed attempt to forget the whole scene. It was not successful.
"As fun as that sounds Bela, I'm going to have to pass. Sadly, I don't have time for whoring around today – shocking I know – what with all the crazy Templars and angry mages. Maybe another time. Meet you at the hanged man later though right?" She smiled and shrugged with indifference before leading her merry band of misfits off and leaving the pirate alone with the elf, all as her heart was breaking.
The drinking had started soon after that, conveniently ignoring the city's plights for the day and seeking solace in her oldest friend alcohol. She had also ignored her own recommendation of drinking at the hanged man, instead finding somewhere out of the city, where she was less likely to be recognized. Or found.
The maker however, was obviously not always that kind.
"Ah champion. What a pleasant surprise, no?" A familiar Orlesian tone sounded quietly from behind her, full of both confidence and apprehension. Aeryn silently cursed her deity for what seemed to be a very cruel sense of humour, before turning to regard the man who had spoken.
"I'm no champion today. And the surprise is relatively unwelcome if I'm honest. What do you want Dupuis?" she hissed bitterly, recalling their last meeting in anger; another unwanted memory she would have to deal with that night. He had known all along about Quentin, what he was planning to do with her mother. Upon finding him in Lowtown after Leandra's death however, and torturing the truth out of him, she just couldn't see the point in ending him. If she had, it would have only been for revenge. She didn't want to be that person.
"I believe the better question would be, what do you want? I am still very much in your debt after our last… venture. You let me live, and for that, I promised I would repay you." Aeryn still didn't trust him at all. Not the glint in his eye, nor the smile he wore.
"I don't want anything from you blood mage."
"Truly? If that is so, I will indeed be on my way. But you must think about this. Blood magic is dangerous in many ways, but useful in so many others. You are drinking a great deal no? One can only assume you have a great many troubles."
Aeryn sighed at his persistence, wishing everyone would just leave her troubles to herself.
"These are no troubles you can help with. Just leave me alone!" It may have sounded convincing - intimidating even –had she not slurred the words drunkenly. Gascard simply smiled.
"You underestimate me. With my magic, I could make all your troubles disappear."
"Doesn't have time for whoring around? That's rich coming from her!" Isabela scowled, burning a hole into the cave floor with her incessant and angry pacing. Zevran noted that it had been going on for some time, and while the elf at first had found it relatively amusing to watch, he got the feeling that if he didn't stop her at some point, her head may have quite possibly exploded.
"My dear, I get the feeling that something is bothering you, yes?" It was an understatement to say the least, and he already had a good idea of exactly what was wrong, yet his sarcastic nature refused to cut straight to the point. Not when the foreplay brought so many rewards of its own.
Isabela stopped her pacing and wheeled around to face him, brief surprise flashing in her eyes as if she had almost forgotten he was there at all.
"Of course there's something bothering me! It's Hawke and her stupid-" She grimaced at Hawke's name, as if it tasted bitter on her tongue, before sighing and composing herself.
"Oh sod her. Let's just get to what we came here to do hmm? Angry sex is always the best." She smirked seductively, looking over him with hooded eyes and climbing onto his lap. As she straddled him, he noticed that she looked much like the Isabela he remembered once more, but wrong somehow. It was subtle, but it was there, and once noticed, it was impossible to ignore. Her every movement seemed forced and mechanic, just going through motions she had repeated a hundred times before. It was almost like a dance; she remembered all the steps, but the passion was no longer there, the fire dissipated from her eyes.
He was broken from his reverie when her lips pressed against his, hands clutching his shoulders desperately. It was all wrong.
"Isabela." He mumbles against her lips.
"Bela wait." He had never imagined he would ever utter those words, especially in regards to sex. His conscience seemed to have become an increasingly persistent inconvenience in the years spent knowing the hero of Fereldan; Mathias Cousland couldn't swat a fly without good cause and then feeling suitably guilty afterward.
"Isabela-" He tried again, only to be cut off by a frustrated cry as the pirate pulled away from him, sliding from his lap to sit head in hands by his side.
"Balls."
They sat in silence for a moment as she collected herself, the near shore washing in and out the only sound to be heard before Zevran finally spoke.
"Something tells me you don't really want to do this Bela. It wouldn't by any chance have something to do with the fiery sex goddess I met by the beach now would it?
Isabela smirked mischievously.
"Finally someone else who sees the naughty side of Aveline beneath all that plate."
"But of course. It is always the unsuspecting ones yes? However, I believe I was referring to the champion."
The pirate sighed, her face dropping.
"You couldn't have let me joke my way out of this one could you? You're a cruel man Zev."
"Cruel yes, and devilishly handsome. Some would even say that I am rather intelligent also yes? So let us skip past your swooning at how unbearably attractive I am, and how accurate my guessing is and get straight to the part in which you tell me all your secrets."
Isabela's shoulders dropped defeated, finally accepting that it was perhaps her reluctance to share her feelings that had gotten her into such a mess in the first place.
"She's infuriating Zev. You have no idea how many times I've wanted to just smash her stupid face against a wall."
"About as often as you'd like to strip her down and have your way with her I'd suspect?" he suggested, making the pirate laugh, wearing a real smile for the first time since the incident on the beach. Zevran quickly recognized the deep burning in her eyes while she thought about it as the lust that had been missing from her earlier act. She bit her lip devilishly.
"You have that right. There's this delicious little thing she does with her tongue when-"
"I will have to stop you there I'm afraid. Anymore and it will be impossible for me not to just ravage you on the spot. I am but a man, and it is already hard enough if you catch my meaning." The pirate laughed again, a joyful and heartfelt sound that the elf was truly glad to hear.
There was a moment as Isabela considered his words with a familiar confusion which had raged ever since she had returned to the city. Usually, she would have needed no more prompt than that to jump him there and then and spend the following hours having what would undoubtedly be nothing but glorious sex. A small side of her even wanted it, like the old times, her body thrumming with want. Yet her stomach clenched at the thought, a sickness instantly washing over her from the mere idea of it. She wanted sex. She always wanted sex. But ever since meeting Hawke, she had gradually found that more and more, she only ever really wanted it with her. She knew sleeping with Zevran would be incredible, yet all she could picture was that damned woman's face interrupting her every thought. As the assassin had quite rightly pointed out, she never knew whether to throw her against a wall and hurt her, or rip off her clothes and go at it until they saw stars. Sometimes she did both.
"She's infuriating." She repeated with a troubled expression. Zevran simply rested a hand on her shoulder, both sympathetic for the state she was in, and slightly amused at the fact that Isabela of all people was having an emotional breakdown.
"Have you told her?" he asked solemnly, and she knew exactly what he meant. She had in fact told her, in sorts, how she felt. The picture was incredibly confused however. Their whole relationship - if it could be called that – was a mess of things unsaid and unrecognised. Was it a relationship because she had half explained her feelings, or was it still just sex? Could she handle a relationship? Could she handle just sex? Everything was so complex and twisted in her own head to the point where she had no idea where she stood with Hawke. Was she even in the picture at all after her stupid stunt at the beach?
She sighed, all the thinking she was doing was hurting her head.
"Kind of. It's complicated."
"Perhaps you should uncomplicated it then yes?"
And there it was; so simple an answer. But it wasn't that easy. The very thought of it terrified her, so much so that her insides had clenched and tightened violently at what was no doubt going to be very emotion filled talk. Though she had edged into such a talk before, emotions and all, she had quickly backed down from fully committing to anything. She needed her freedom, it was all she had. Or at least that's what she had thought, yet Hawke had a way of questioning everything she had ever thought about herself. Yes, complicated was certainly the word for it; the whole situation awash with a mix of contradictory thoughts that constantly rang loudly in her head. It was a mess.
Isabela sighed, accepting that perhaps she made it more difficult for herself than necessary.
Maybe it could be just so simple as the elf had said. Uncomplicate things.
"Maybe you're right Zev-"
"Always." He grinned smugly. The pirate snorted.
"Hah! That wasn't the case when we teamed up back in Antiva and you insisted that it would be a good idea to sleep with the mark's wife before we left."
"If memory serves me correctly, it was you who seduced the Count's lovely bride, and brought her back to our room yes?" The assassin corrected with a fond smile, a wistful mischief playing in his eyes.
"You agreed. My point still stands." They lapsed into a comfortable silence, enjoying the brief moment of respite from trouble. Troubles never seemed to long stay buried however, and Isabela knew what she had to do. Zevran had been right. It was time to do something about Hawke, all she had to do was find the damnable woman.
Wrestling with the twisting in her gut every step of the way, Isabela finally found herself in the Hawke mansion, her heart pounding violently as she tried to find the courage to climb the stairs. She swallowed nervously, wringing her hands while her eyes fixated on the open door on the landing. When she finally did move her feet, every inch she made seemed to bring on a whole new level of fear.
Step.
Sweat beaded on her palms. She could feel her body temperature rising with every move, despite the iciness of the fear that branched out from her core.
Step.
Her hands were shaking; softly at first, but growing ever more obvious.
Step.
It seemed as though her body had forgotten to breathe of its own accord. Her chest constricted painfully, making drawing in air all that much more difficult.
By the time she finally reached the landing, she was a nervous wreck, vehemently cursing herself for not having a drink before she left and wanting nothing more than to run away and never look back. Her feet however, were stuck to the floor. The pirate wondered briefly how it had ever come to this; the woman she had been seven years ago would have kicked her in the head for even considering what she was about to do. Even then, as she stood outside the doorway – on the very precipice of change – she found it hard not to laugh at herself over how pathetic it all was, at what Hawke had reduced her to.
Still, her feet remained unmoved; she hadn't ran away yet. Despite all the voices whispering doubt in her ears – most of them her own – she couldn't bring herself to leave. She needed to do it. She had never realised just how sad her life had been, how empty, until Hawke. Part of her wanted to hate the woman for it, ignorance had suited her fine. Yet now that she had tasted what it could be like, she'd be damned if she chickened out then.
Sucking a deep breath of air into her lungs, she forced her legs into motion, finally setting foot into Hawke's room and closing the door behind her.
"Isabela, what can I do for you?" The voice was cold. Isabela cringed.
"Aeryn… I'm- well… we should probably… talk." She finished lamely.
"Aeryn? You only ever call me that during sex. Is that why you're here, sex?" Hawke regarded her coolly, her expression unreadable. Isabela couldn't remember the last time she had seen the woman without a smile on her face. Even after Leandra had died, she had worn a mask, all empty grins and smirks that never reached her eyes.
"Why? Are you offering? You're not are you? Tease." She tried, finding that seriousness had eluded her in place of her typical, casual humour. It had always eased her out of difficult situations and made her more comfortable in her own skin.
"Alright, alright. I actually wanted to explain, about the beach. I didn't sleep with him by the way."
"I suppose I owe you sex for that?"
"Of course." The pirate joked again, this time wincing inwardly at how far away the conversation was veering off course from the way she had wanted it to go. She sighed, once again cursing old habits that had already gotten her into trouble more than once that night.
"Look, I'm sorry okay. I never even particularly wanted to sleep with him in the first place, which is horrifying considering how damned good he is. I swear that man could make a chantry sister forget her vows in a second." Aeryn raised her brows and Isabela quickly backed up a few steps. This was the reason she never did emotional chats.
"Look the point is, I didn't want him. I only want you." The words sounded completely absurd in her voice, as true as they were. It made the pirate shiver.
Hawkes face however, remained unchanged. Frustration crept unbidden into Isabela's mind, as well as the rising fear that she had messed things up beyond repair. Seriousness found her quite naturally then.
"What do you want me to say? I said I'm sorry alright, now will you please stop looking at me like that and say something because you're driving me insane!" She exclaimed. She'd never seen eyes so cold as the glacial blue that bore into her at that very moment. The worst part however, was not the eyes, but the cruel smirk that played on those full lips. It chilled Isabela to the bone.
"And what is it you want me to say? This is all very touching Bela, really, but is there an actual point to this visit or-"
"Hawke this is serious." A moment ago, the pirate had thought herself incapable of the meaning of such a word, but in the sudden shift of atmosphere to such an icy cold, it was all she could feel besides the worry.
"Is it?" Hawke questioned.
"Yes! Damn it Hawke I love you, okay? Despite all my better – or worst – judgement. You've ruined me Hawke, I hope you know that, and the worst part is I don't even care. Now would you please just forgive me already so we can get straight to the mind blowing make-up sex?"
It was finally said. The pirate stood breathless, all too aware of her complete and utter vulnerability before the woman who now held so much power over her. She swallowed in the silence, her own heartbeat deafening. The tension was palpable, as if she could feel it pressing against her chest and crushing the air from within her. All the while, a sickness worked against her from the inside, a disease that plagued her stomach and gripped her heart with such ferocity that it was almost unbearable, yet she was aware of nothing but those blue eyes.
Then Hawke laughed, and the silence broke the moment Isabela's heart did. The sickness devoured her.
There was no mirth in the eyes that Isabela focused on. They were filled with expression that the pirate had never seen in that blue: cruelty.
"Love?" queried Hawke amusedly.
"What does love mean to a whore, but flesh on flesh? You don't know the meaning of the word." Her tone was jovial, the intent vicious. Isabela had heard it all before. From Hawke however, they meant something so much worse than just words; it was the confirmation of every fear she'd ever had.
"In the end, you're just a pirate, and I'm a champion. We both know the truth: you're beneath me."
And Isabela had known all along.
