Chapter 8

"Why won't this blasted thing work?" Hawke yelled in frustration, picking up the tome that she had collected and throwing it against Merrill's wall - ignoring the squeak that escaped the elf's mouth as the tome collided with her wall.

Anders, who was already disquiet at being in Merrill's house and away from his clinic, knelt down to pick the book up with a shake of his head.

Isabela watched quietly in the darkest corner of Merrill's house, using her own rogue's stealth to hide her away from the sight of the three mages; all of them looking very different - Hawke just looked angry, Merrill looked a little scared and Anders impatient.

Isabela had to resist clicking her tongue at the sight, instead leaning further back into the shadows of Merrill's house with a smile creeping on her face as another book hit the wall.

"I've tried Hawke but it won't show me anything!" Anders persisted when another book flew at him, trying hard not to get hit at the same time as trying to keep Merrill's home nice and tidy. "I think maybe it's just best that we leave that book alone! It obviously doesn't want us looking at it!"

Hawke stormed up to the taller mage and snatched the book from his hand, flicked through the pages once more, then realizing that it hadn't changed a bit since she had last looked, threw it once more at the wall with a growl.

Anders shook his head at the refugee in response, once more kneeling and picking up the book with a bitter laugh. "Because throwing the book is going to help isn't it?"

"It certainly makes me feel better!" Hawke snapped and Isabela bit her lip to stop herself from laughing when the mage started to pace up and down Merrill's house with her brow furrowed in rage. "How can that stupid book not work? I've tried absolutely everything I can think of and it doesn't show me anything!"

"Have you tried using magic on the pages?" Anders offered though from the look on his face Isabela could tell the healer was quickly losing his patience with Hawke.

"Of course I have!" Hawke answered back with another snarl escaping her lips; her pacing getting faster - so fast that Isabela almost thought Hawke was going to collapse a few times due to how fast the apostate was pacing up and down. "It just doesn't work!"

"Well I've tried all I can think of Hawke," Anders said with a shrug of his shoulders, flicking through the pages once more before placing it down on Merrill's table with a sigh. "You've just got to face the facts that maybe whatever is in this book doesn't want to be read."

"Or maybe…" Hawke whispered, narrowing her cold eyes at the healer dangerously. "We're just not doing the right thing! This could be the discovery of a life-time Anders! Don't you want to find out? Aren't you curious?"

Isabela rolled her eyes, rearranging herself in her corner and staring at the tome that rested on Merrill's table - curious and surprised to see that the tome had been the one they had found up Sundermount two months ago. Why would Hawke keep such a useless thing for so long? Despite the magic potential obviously. It didn't look like it was worth much either - it looked pathetically useless.

"I am curious yes…" Anders replied with a stiff nod that was entirely unconvincing. "But I don't think we should risk looking at such a thing if we have no idea what is inside!"

Just as Hawke was about to retort with another bitter reply, Merrill put up her hand with such eagerness that it took Hawke a few moments to recognize that Merrill was asking for her permission to speak.

Isabela smirked at the shocked look that crossed Hawke's face - relishing it and storing it away for future moments - at how utterly foreign it looked on the apostate's face compared to the cold, calm look Hawke normally kept.

Hawke nodded curtly at Merrill's hand, turning her back on the elven girl to pace some more around the house; looking frustrated, nervous and fuming all at the exact same time.

"Well there's always the other way you know?" Merrill said quietly with a bright smile lighting her face up when Hawke stopped to look over at the elf over her shoulder. "Or have you tried that?"

Hawke's lip curled into a grimace, unconsciously making Merrill shrink back further into her seat. "The other way? What other way?"

"Well I…" Merrill started with clear hesitation, looking more and more nervous at Hawke's cold eyes staring at her own, unblinking and demanding.

"She means blood magic!" Anders interrupted with a snort and a furious shake of his head, a look of complete rage washing over his features. "Because of course that will solve everything!"

Isabela felt her throat tighten when Hawke turned her back on her to face the elven girl, her muscles taught and the way Hawke's back stiffened signalled to Isabela that the apostate was shocked at Merrill's answer.

"Blood magic?" Instead of sounding angry like Isabela had thought Hawke would be, the refugee just sounded like she was intrigued by Merrill's answer and even took a step forward so that she could sit beside Merrill on the girl's bench. "Why do you think blood magic would help?"

Anders looked between them both, a look of horror on his face. "Are you serious Hawke? You're actually listening to this? Blood magic is evil! If that's how you manage to get the book to work then doesn't that tell you anything?" He tried to pry away Hawke's attention from Merrill with a wave of his hands; his anger starting to make his movements more and more quicker.

Hawke merely glanced up at him once before ignoring the healer completely, eyes focused on Merrill entirely. "What were you saying Merrill? Why do you think blood magic will help?"

Merrill gulped under Ander's gaze, shuffling closer to Hawke and answering confidently when Hawke's small encouraging smile reached her eyes. "Well sometimes the blood may call to the presence inside the object and it'll make up its own mind if it decides to show you or not what it knows."

"Or if the demon decides you're a tasty enough morsel…" Anders muttered sarcastically, avoiding Hawke's eyes when the apostate turned her head to glare at him. "If you're stupid enough to do such a thing that is."

Hawke cleared her throat loudly just when Merrill was about to open her mouth to argue, eyeing the book that still lay on Merrill's table with unease. "I'll think about what my options are before deciding what to do with the book. Thanks again for at least trying to help me decipher it."

Anders exhaled noisily and pinched the bridge of his nose, turning away from Hawke with a sigh. "I really hope you know what you're doing Hawke. Blood magic isn't the only way if something doesn't go right."

He turned to glare at Merrill, eyes narrowed with an irritable glint to them. "Your methods shouldn't be one that mages turn to when backed into a corner. We're stronger than that! We don't have to fall to blood magic just to get what we want!"

"Anders!" Hawke said abruptly, grabbing the healer's shoulder and tugging Anders around until he was facing her icy eyes with no hope of escape. "Calm down or so help me I will punch you senseless."

When Anders looked up at her (a vacant expression on his face, resembling a person who has only just woken up from a dream) Hawke's grip on his shoulders tightened and soon enough the mage witnessed another small - if not strained - smile from the apostate.

Isabela found it quite unfair how everyone else got a smile (even if it was a strained smile) and she got nothing but Hawke being broody with her. How ridiculous. She was far more attractive than Anders - even she needed a smile now and then from Hawke's miserable self!

"I'm not going to turn to blood magic Anders," Hawke said fairly evenly despite the expression on her face, releasing her grip of Ander's shoulders and scowling at the healer when he started to protest. "I know the dangers! If it makes you feel any better I'll burn the book when I get back to Gamlen's! Until then I think it's best that you and Merrill wait outside while I collect my stuff."

In reply Anders nodded numbly, looking dizzy and terrified at the reaction that Justice had stirred in him without realizing so, moving slowly towards Merrill's door that led to the Alienage - a haunted look making his face look more sharp and gaunt.

Isabela sort of felt sorry for him, being a possessed abomination that isn't allowed to get drunk can't be easy.

Merrill followed as soon as Hawke turned her back on her, looking fairly put out at the prospect of being alone with a shaken, confused yet angry Anders who was more than likely going to chew her out for her suggestion.

Isabela decided that she herself would leave after Hawke had left seeming as she really only came to Merrill's house to see how her Kitten was doing yet had got distracted by the meeting between the three mages; so all she'd have to do was wait for a while until Hawke decided to leave.

She watched as Hawke picked up the tome and turned it around in her hands, fingers skimming and sliding all over the leather until the apostate slammed it shut again and placed it in her satchel with a grunt - looking more unsure than Isabela had ever saw the apostate.

Hawke turned to place her staff in its place on her shoulder, adjusting the strap keeping it there with what looked like deliberate slowness - almost like Hawke was waiting for something, anything, to happen.

Isabela watched as Hawke waited for what felt like a whole five minutes, cursing the refugee silently when Hawke made no movement to move from her position where she stood and instead moved so that she was sitting once more on Merrill's bench with her head in her hands.

Isabela felt herself grow more and more annoyed at the amount of time Hawke was taking getting the hell out of Merrill's house because what did Hawke think she was doing? At this rate Anders and Merrill were more likely to think that Hawke had decided to throw every book in Merrill's house around than collect her belongings and essentials.

Then Hawke's head snapped up to glare directly at the little corner Isabela had hid in, blue eyes narrowing dangerously, her fingers curling so that the apostate could rest her chin on them and her lips twisting into a deep frown.

"Enjoyed that?" Hawke's whisper was rough and despite the frown that graced the refugee's face, she looked composed. "I'm sure that's enough gossip for you to spread with Varric - it'll earn you a few sovereigns for your ship that's for sure."

Isabela bit down hard on her lip, pressing herself further into the dark corner of Merrill's house with her heart beating rapidly at being caught.

When Isabela refused to answer, Hawke growled and stood up from where she was sitting, glaring straight at where Isabela stood. "Get out from that corner Isabela, I know you're there."

Isabela sighed and pushed herself away from where she was hiding, idly playing with the fabric of the scarf that was wrapped around her waist.

"Hawke, Hawke, Hawke…" Isabela tutted with a playful shake of her head, releasing the fabric she was playing with and grinning up at the apostate. "Me? A gossip? Do I need to keep reminding you that your dirty little secret is safe with me?"

Hawke scoffed at her with her usual disgust, dark hair hiding her right eye away from Isabela's amber orbs. "I don't have a dirty secret."

"Blood is rather dirty actually." Isabela teased with a smile, knowing it'd do nothing but rile Hawke up even more. "I still have some old blood stains on these boots that just won't come out!"

Isabela had thought Hawke would just become cross at her, in it's place Hawke looked unsettled and her eyes averted upwards to Merrill's ceiling like she was trying to avoid Isabela's face altogether.

Isabela grinned at the look, unsheathing her new dagger that she had found through her ventures with Hawke and using the tip of it to open the refugee's satchel where the tome's black leather cover glared up at her. "Oh look what we have here…"

She grabbed the tome with her free hand, turning it in her hand and flicking through the pages with the tip of her dagger; chuckling mischievously at the empty pages that were speckled with old blood at the corner of each page.

Isabela slammed it close and carefully arranged it so that it slid into Hawke's satchel easily, smirking triumphantly when Hawke finally let her eyes lower to stare at her; the usual icy eyes shining with blue fire.

"Done?" Hawke muttered throatily, her Fereldan accent becoming more profound by the second.

Isabela shook her head and moved to fold over the flap that sealed Hawke's satchel shut yet when she was just about to fold it over a gasp escaped her at the tight grip around her wrist; soon finding herself pressed up against Merrill's door with Hawke's fingers wrapped firmly around both of her wrists.

Hawke looked rather composed too, though Isabela found it somewhat amusing that Hawke was able to do such a thing considering how flaming short the apostate was.

"Drop the knife!" Hawke ordered, suspiciously eyeing the dagger that Isabela held in her left hand.

"Dagger." Isabela found herself correcting with an urge to laugh out loud. "Though I do suppose you could call it a knife…"

Hawke gave her a pointed look, causing Isabela to sigh and drop it with a chuckle - knowing that she could get out of Hawke's grip if she wanted to but right now? She was interested in what Hawke would do.

"What do you want from me Isabela?" Hawke said gruffly, stepping on the dagger that Isabela had let drop to the ground. "I know how large your mouth is, what do you want from me that will keep it shut?"

Isabela feigned a thoughtful expression, pouting out her lips and smacking them together to fill the silence that had managed to sneak its way into their encounter after a few moments of Hawke staring angrily at her.

"Well you could be nicer…" Isabela started with a mischievous smile worming its way onto her lips once she let her eyes linger past Hawke's collarbone. "Though now I think about it you are rather close to me and you are pressing up against me in all the right places too!"

Hawke jumped away from her immediately with her face turned away from her almost on instinct, hiding her expression away from Isabela with a grunt and a curse that sounded all too familiar to the pirate.

Unable to keep the smirk off her face, Isabela bent down to retrieve her dagger with another little laugh - that laugh fading when she met Hawke's eyes and saw that Hawke's teeth was bared in a way that reminded Isabela of a time when she duelled a Antivan handmaiden who had managed to sneak her way onto her boat to steal her bandana as a present for the Antivan Queen and the only thing she could do was poke at her and bare her teeth.

Good times.

"Give me your boots." Hawke snarled as she rearranged a lock of hair to fit behind her ear, using her free hand to gesture at Isabela's feet.

Isabela glanced down at her boots for a moment before looking up at the apostate questioningly. "Pardon?"

Hawke glared at her with steely eyes of cerulean flames, teeth still bared in that animalistic way that Isabela had grown somewhat fond of. "Don't make me repeat myself Isabela. Give me them."

Isabela didn't allow herself to budge one instant for Hawke, allowing herself a bemused laugh and perplexed expression to cross her face. "Andraste's ass Hawke, what are you talking about?"

When Hawke moved to kneel in front of her Isabela threw her head back to laugh gleefully up at the holes in Merrill's ceiling. "Don't you think that's a bit too forward?"

Hawke's head was bowed so she couldn't tell exactly what the apostate looked like, but Isabela had a pretty good idea (and imagination) on how Hawke's face was looking at the moment.

"Oh who cares? Go ahead!" Isabela found herself cackling wickedly even as she allowed Hawke to slip off her boots, leaning further back against Merrill's door smugly. "But those are the only bloody boots I have left you know?"

Hawke returned from her kneeling position with Isabela's boots in hand, an odd but familiar strained smile on her lips. "If Merrill and Fenris can manage without boots then I'm sure you'll be perfectly fine Isabela."

Isabela clicked her tongue and tilted her head to the side, shooting Hawke a cocky slip of her tongue before returning the organ behind her lips.

"What? You disapprove now?" Hawke muttered with a roll of her eyes, shoving Isabela's boots under her arm. "I'm being nice to you."

Isabela let her eyes scan Hawke's tight, strained (stiff) expression with scepticism because not only did that stupid smile look ridiculous on Hawke but it was also making her fondness for the refugee dim quite a bit.

"And what are you planning to do with my boots?"

Isabela was sure Hawke was trying hard not to throw the boots at her by how hard Hawke's fingers were wrapped around the leather - so in return Isabela just tapped her own cheek playfully.

"Isn't that obvious?" Hawke said in a bored tone, grasping the leather boots in her hand and flailing it around in front of her face. "I'm going to clean them for you. Because I'm being nice just like you requested…"

Isabela snorted. "So you're being nice to me just so I keep my mouth shut about your blood magic ways?"

Hawke glared moodily at her; resembling (in Isabela's opinion) a woman who had just been kicked too many times and realizing that the only way to stop being kicked was to fight back. "I'm not using blood magic."

"So that whole conversation didn't happen, right?" Isabela said slowly, arching a brow humorously when Hawke merely sighed at her. "All of it was a figment of my wild imagination?"

"I'm off home to burn the book!" Hawke retorted with a growl, shoving the boots in her hand straight into Isabela's chest - causing the pirate to stumble slightly. "Now if you don't mind, I'll be on my way!"

Isabela felt Hawke's hands grab her arm to move her away from Merrill's door, allowing the apostate to storm out of it.

"Are you still trying to be nice?" Isabela called after her, giving a wink to the shocked Merrill who had just noticed that she was in her home. "Because I don't think you're doing very well with it!"


"W-what? Where are your boots?"

Isabela looked up from the book she was reading to see that none other but Carver Hawke was staring down at her, a look of complete confusion over his face.

A smile crossed her face as she wriggled her toes. "My boots? Haven't you been home yet?"

Carver gave her a disapproving look as he sat down next to a sleeping Merrill who had rested her head on the table barrel she and Isabela had been sitting at. "What happened to Merrill?"

Isabela waved her hand at the youngest Hawke, returning to her book. "Don't bother asking, she thought I was turning into an elf with my lack of boots."

Varric joined them at the table then with two mugs of ale in his hands, plonking them both down and yanking the second away when Carver reached over to grab it.

"Ah, ah Junior!" Isabela watched Varric tease with a smirk, chuckling to herself when Varric passed her the second mug. "If you expect ale before you order you'll get nowhere in life!"

"Spoken like a true leader of men!" Isabela faked a sniffle, caressing the dry skin at the corners of her eyes.

With a laugh escaping them both, Isabela raised her mug to let Varric's own clink against it before bringing the clay mug up to her mouth and allowing the ale to trickle down her throat.

"You two are disgusting…" Carver murmured with a shake of his head, looking more and more disturbed each time Isabela teased him with her smile.

Isabela wriggled her toes again when a draft sifted its way into the Hanged Man, amber eyes looking up to see that Aveline had come in through the door with an unusual friendly smile on her face - it being unusual because of the fact that said smile was being directed at her.

"So they're your boots are they?" Is the first thing Aveline says to her once she's managed to climb over the same drunks that always fell onto the floor at the same time of day. "Hawke's been scrubbing at them for over an hour now. What in Maker's name did you manage to get on them?"

Isabela opened her mouth to answer.

"No never mind I'm not sure I want to know," Aveline interrupted hastily, placing herself next to Varric with a shake of her head. "Surprisingly Hawke's oddly happy about the whole thing; says it's keeping her mind off things."

Isabela feigned disinterest at the Guards Captain's words, bringing up her mug to examine it despite having knowledge it was empty.

"To be perfectly honest I hope she hurries up because Maker's breath Isabela…" Aveline said with a huff, pushing Isabela's feet away from her when the pirate placed her feet on the stool next to the Guards Captain. "Your feet are worse than Carver's ale-breath."

Isabela stuck her tongue out at Lady Man-Hands, returning to her book with interest as a certain page caught her eye.

"Ooh…" She started with a low hum and a click of her tongue, drawing everyone's attention at the table towards her. "My Guards Captain and Her Large Sword: A Love Story. My, my Varric when did you write this?"

Aveline glared at her and without a moment of hesitation; threw Varric's full mug of ale at her.


Hawke examined the tome's pages once more with a frown marring her features, stroking her chin thoughtfully at the images that flooded her head; images that disturbed her greatly.

Isabela's boots lay at her feet, shining to perfection like Hawke had planned them to and the soft light that shone off the leather made Hawke glance down to see her reflection in them.

She unsheathed one of her spare knives that was strapped to her thigh, examining it and letting it rest on the palm of her right hand - weighing it and studying the blade with unusual curiosity.

She shuddered as another image thundered its way through her head, said image making herself wonder if she'd ever be able to do such a thing as her mind was suggesting.

Hawke clutched down harder onto the metal, feeling it slice open her skin of her palm until her hand got swallowed up in a crimson ink that made her head lurch throb as all of a sudden an almighty force of power washed over; her own blood calling her like a siren.

"No!" She threw the knife away from her and let the tome fall to her feet, rushing over to look under her cot for some cloth she had hidden away so she could wrap her hand up.

Her blood and the tome itself had called to her the moment she had slit her palm and the power that had surged through her was something that terrified her greatly - not at how much power it contained but how much she found herself embracing such power the moment it had called to her.

The only thing that had kept her from taking on such power was that quick flow of willpower and Ander's voice warning her of the consequences of such power; power that was only inherited by the use of blood. Blood magic.

She stared down at the tome as she wrapped her hand up, anger starting to make her vision blurry.

Just when Hawke was about to pick the tome up something stopped her, a feeling at the back of her mind that forced her to stop and stumble back into her cot with cold sweat marring her forehead.

Hawke tried to reach over to pick the tome up once more but let her hand retreat when a thought crossed her mind.

She'd burn the tome tomorrow. Something about it was making her go crazy and if this was what she was going to be like from now on then she'd have to get rid of it as soon as possible.

Then she could stop being nice to Isabela too.