Aveline looked up from the seemingly unending piles of parchment on her desk as a knock rang off the office door. The paperwork was the least enjoyable aspect of her recent promotion. As though being corrupt wasn't bad enough, in recent times Jeven had falsified a number of documents and Aveline was only now getting things sorted out.
Grateful for the distraction, Aveline called for her visitor to enter. The door swung open, revealing a slightly flushed guardsman Donnic. "Guard Captain," he greeted her with a polite nod.
Inclining her head towards him in turn, Aveline replied, "Guardsman. Is there a problem?"
Donnic glanced over his shoulder and closed the door behind him. He cleared his throat, unsure of the best way to approach the matter. "I was on patrol in Lowtown this evening and came upon two of your ah...acquaintances-"
Aveline cut him off with a raised hand, face hardening. Already she knew the name of at least one of the troublemakers. "Donnic. Out with it."
"I encountered Serrah Hawke and the Rivaini ship captain," again Donnic cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. With a sigh he continued. "They were ah, enjoying one another's company, Captain."
Aveline's green eyes narrowed. That the guard had discovered a wanton hussy like Isabela rutting like an animal in the street was no great surprise. But Hawke? Aveline honestly believed he was better than that. "So I'm clear on this, guardsman, Hawke and Isabela were engaged in sexual intercourse?"
Donnic's face flushed a dull red as he nodded. "Yes, Captain. In the middle of the street in the foundry district."
"That whore," she muttered under her breath. Of her guardsman she demanded, "Where are they now?"
"I placed them under arrest and have detained them in the cells here in the keep, Captain. I thought you would want to deal with this personally, rather than bringing it to the attention of a magistrate."
Aveline sighed and rose from behind her desk. Suddenly, the paperwork didn't seem so troublesome, after all. "Very good, guardsman. You may return to your duties."
Donnic saluted and left, the sights and sounds of what he'd encountered all-too fresh in his mind.
Face set in a grim mask of barely contained anger, Aveline stormed from her office, down several flights of stone stairs and into the slightly damp atmosphere of the cells. Here, the stone walls were slick with moisture and a variety of mosses grew betwixt the flagstones underfoot, making the going somewhat treacherous. The captain's right foot skidded momentarily on a patch of moss and she thrust out an arm, steadying herself on the wall. The near-miss did nothing to improve her disposition. "Where are they?" she demanded of the guards on duty at the gate leading to the dungeons proper.
Guardsman Pavel knew better than to ask of whom the captain was referring. "The fourth and fifth cells on the left, Captain. We thought it best to detain them separately."
Aveline nodded, approving of this decision though Maker knew Isabela was likely perverse enough to attempt some manner of contortion allowing her to...Whore she muttered under her breath as Pavel and Jansen cranked open the gate for her. Hunching over slightly, Aveline passed beneath before it was fully open.
In the fourth cell on the left, Isabela rose from the hard bunk chained to the cold stone wall as booted footfalls echoed through the cells towards her. "Looks like we have company, Hawke!" the pirate announced. Standing with his back to her in the fifth cell on the left, Hawke made no reply; once Mother learned of this, he'd never hear the end of it. "Oh, don't be like that, Hawke!" Isabela went on when he refused to answer. "We had fun, didn't we?"
"We were arrested, Isabela!" Hawke snapped, still looking away from her.
Rolling her eyes, Isabela replied. "I've been arrested dozens times-"
"That surprises me not at all," Aveline interjected as she arrived, stopping between the two cells. It was fortunate, in a way – the night was yet young and the rest of the cells were as yet empty. "Hawke," Aveline began, choosing to ignore the sailor for the moment, "What in blazes were you thinking?"
Despite the situation, Isabela couldn't help but grin. "Likely he was thinking that's a nice pair!"
Aveline rounded on her, "Shut up, whore!"
In his cell, Hawke sighed and turned towards the captain. He winced at the fury and, yes, there it was, contempt in her eyes. "Aveline, do what you will with me but Mother mustn't hear of this."
"Oh, so now you worry about your reputation?" Isabela demanded. "You didn't seem too concerned earlier tonight."
"You ambushed me!" Hawke protested. "I had no time to think!"
"Both of you, shut up!" Aveline shouted.
At the gate, Pavel grinned at Jansen. "Capn's really giving it to them."
With an effort, Aveline attained some semblance of calm. After she cleaned up this mess, she'd head into Lowtown on patrol and Maker help anybody foolish enough to cross her; she had Isabela-induced frustrations to vent. "Hawke," the captain began. "Perhaps you'd like to explain what happened?"
Æ
Cheap ale, a few hands of wicked grace with friends – despite the new-found riches from the expedition, Hawke still whiled away much of his spare time in Lowtown's Hanged Man tavern, much to Mother's dismay. "Now that we have our estate once more, perhaps it's time to find you an appropriate match, dear?"
Hawke winced; Mother was sliding back into noble life far too easily for his liking. He wanted her to be happy, of course but had she not seen the way some of these high-born young ladies behaved towards people they thought were beneath them?
Hawke and his siblings may well have been of noble blood but theirs had not been the lives of nobles. They had not spent their youth attending grand balls or dances nor had they received instruction in correct and proper etiquette. No, in all likelihood, Kirkwall's young noble ladies thought the residents of the Amell estate were only a rung or two above peasants. Not wanting to provoke an argument, Hawke promised to think about it, said thinking typically occurring in The Hanged Man, over a few rounds of cards.
"So, Hawke," Varric began, looking up from his cards. "Has your mother made any progress in finding you a suitable wife?"
"Varric," Hawke answered, "I'd rather stick pins in my eyes than associate with any of those nobles."
"Ohh," Merrill winced. "Pins? That does sound terribly painful, Hawke. Surely those young women can't be that bad?"
Varric smiled at the elf over his cards. "C'mon Daisy. Just last week you were telling me how a woman screamed for her guards when she caught you in her flower garden."
"Oh, I'm sure that was all some silly misunderstanding, Varric." Merrill frowned at her cards. "Uh. Raise?" she said, tentatively laying a few silvers atop the small pile of coins on the table.
"A misunderstanding?" Varric echoed. "What was it she called you? A feral elf?"
Hawke chuckled at the thought of a high-strung woman setting her guards on Merrill. "Feral elf, Merrill? Really?" Hawke's gaze flicked to his hand. He sighed. "I fold."
Varric grinned at Merrill. Much as he liked her, he had no intention of going easy on her at cards. Varric laid his cards on the table, face up, smiling even wider. "Read 'em and weep, Daisy."
For several moments, Merrill stared quizzically down at her cards, brow furrowed. She looked tentatively at Hawke; he shrugged so she showed her hand. Craning his neck, Hawke checked both hers and Varric's hands. "Huh," he muttered in surprise. "You've won, Merrill."
"What?" Varric replied, stunned. He picked up his cards, threw them down and looked at Merrill's.
The dalish looked back at him, large green eyes blinking. "Varric, what's wrong?"
"You won, Daisy. Here," the dwarf pushed the pile of silvers across the table towards her.
"Oh!" Merrill exclaimed. "Oh my! I've never won at cards before! What should I do with all this coin, Varric?"
The dwarf smiled at Merrill's happiness; never had losing at cards felt good. "Well, Daisy, traditionally, the winner buys the next round."
Æ
Hawke stumbled from the tavern suffering the effects of slightly too much ale and began walking at a brisk pace, hoping the cool night air would sober him sufficiently. As he ambled in the direction of the foundry district, Hawke became aware of footsteps, light and quick, approaching from behind. The pace of the footsteps increased as his unseen pursuer ran at him and Hawke spun to face his would-be assailant. The dark clouds overhead rendered the streetscape even darker than usual and it wasn't until his attacker flew at him that Hawke saw it was a woman.
Operating purely on instinct, Hawke knocked her to the ground and stood over her, sword poised over her chest. He blinked in surprise as his ale-muddled mind processed what he was seeing. "Isabela?"
The ship-less captain lay on her back, breathing rapidly. She smiled up at him. "Hello, sweet thing." Hawke frowned down at her, blade still raised overhead. Isabela winked at him; even given her current position, she knew she'd have no trouble getting Hawke right where she wanted him. "Out for a nice stroll?" she observed.
Before he could answer, Isabela scissored her legs, ankles catching Hawke's, dumping him hard to the ground. Even as the back of his head rapped the street, Isabela climbed atop him and straddled his chest. The sword clattered to the street, unnoticed by either. Hawke made as though to throw her off but she grabbed his right hand in both of hers, guiding it to her chest. "What the hell is this?" Hawke rasped. How much had he drunk? One moment he had been enjoying the night air and the next he was on his back, with a sore head and a hand on Isabela's right breast.
Leaning over him, Isabela ran her tongue over his mouth. "Where I come from," she whispered, "We call it sex."
"Now?" Hawke answered, breath quickening.
Isabela tore open Hawke's shirt, thankful he had chosen this night to forgo his usual armour. All those buckles and straps were such a bother to deal with! "Ooh, chest hair!" she exclaimed. "As to the question of why now, sweet thing, we've danced around each other for far too long."
"Here?" Hawke moaned. "In the street?"
Isabela kissed him again, relishing the taste of him. "Exciting isn't it?"
Consumed as they were in the taste and feel of each other, neither Hawke nor Isabela heard the booted footfalls. Or the embarrassed-sounding ahem. Hawke felt as though he was about to touch the face of the Maker when a male voice broke in on his imminent ecstasy. "Serrah Hawke!"
Breathing heavily, Isabela twisted around, sweat-dampened hair clinging to her face. She felt Hawke wilt beneath her. Damn! And I was so close! "Good evening, guardsman!" she said as though nothing untoward were occurring at all. Why, I have wild sex in the streets all the time! "Donnic, isn't it?" Beneath her, Hawke groaned.
"Ah...I'm afraid I'll have to place you both under arrest, messeres," an extremely discomfited Donnic announced. He didn't quite know where to look and Serrah Hawke's...companion for the evening wasn't making his life any easier, looking the way she did. "Perhaps you should put your clothes back on?" he suggested, looking at his boots. The toe of the left needed shining, he noted. He'd attend to that matter, just as soon as he got these two sorted out.
"Under arrest?" Isabela echoed. She looked down at Hawke and smirked. "Whatever for?"
"Public indecency, messere," Donnic answered, face hot.
Hawke closed his eyes. "Isabela," he moaned.
Æ
Inside the keep's dungeon, Aveline shook her head. "Hawke, you realise I can't be seen to go easy on you?"
Gripping the bars of his cell, Hawke forced himself to meet the captain's stern green gaze. "Mother can't know of this! I'm not asking you to abuse your position and release me without punishment-"
"Why not?" Isabela demanded. "What good is having the captain of the guard onside if you don't ask for favours?"
Hawke glared at the other woman. "We're already in enough trouble! In the street, Isabela! You couldn't have jumped me in the tavern?"
"It was an impulse!" Isabela shot back. "I didn't plan to ravish you in the street, you know. And besides, you were more than willing to rise to the occasion!"
"Enough!" Aveline barked. She drew in a breath through her nose. "You two are pathetic," she muttered.
"Excuse me?" Hawke retorted even as Isabela exclaimed, "Get off your high horse!"
Ignoring her, Aveline went on. "Out of respect for your mother, knowing what she's gone through since leaving Ferelden, I'll make you a deal: You pay a fine, same as anybody else but I'll leave it to you to explain to Leandra how you came to end up in jail." Aveline frowned at Hawke through the bars of the cell, lines deepening at the corners of her eyes. "But don't you dare put me in this position again." She shot a fierce glare at Isabela. "Either of you."
Hawke nodded. "Thank you, Aveline."
The guard-captain made no reply; she merely turned on her heel and marched out of sight. Hawke turned to Isabela. "Well," he began. "We should get our stories straight."
"Wait," Isabela held up a hand. "Before we get to that, I want to," she sighed. "Apologise. You were right. I should have jumped you in the tavern." She stepped closer to the bars separating her cell from his and extended her right hand through the gaps. "Truce?"
Hawke took the offered hand. "Truce." After a moment, he added, "You know, everything up until Donnic was...well. Let's just say I don't hold it against you."
Isabela smirked. "Maybe I want you to...hold it against me."
Hawke sighed, though a faint smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Right, here's how things went..."
Æ
"Arrested?" Leandra repeated. The horror! How was she ever meant to find a suitable wife for Garrett if he persisted in frequenting that tavern?
Hawke nodded. "Yes, Mother. I'm so sorry but I couldn't stand by while those men insulted my friend's honour." Hawke knew nobody else would ever, in a million years, believe Isabela had any honour to defend but thankfully, Mother didn't know Isabela very well.
"So you were arrested as a consequence of defending a lady's honour?" When Hawke nodded, Leandra smiled. "Oh, I am so very proud of you for standing up for your friends like that!"
Hawke could only stand immobile, uncomfortable beneath the undeserving praise. He'd lied to his mother. To protect her, yes but the members of his family had ever been open and honest with each other; it was part of the reason they'd survived for so long. "Why don't you tell me about some of these young noblewomen?" he invited.
The excited look on his mother's face was worth it.
Author's Note: So, spectre4hire wanted to know when we'd see Hawke and Isabela interact. :) In truth, this image of Isabela jumping Hawke in the street has been in my mind for a while and I would have written it eventually but I got caught up with the Bethany/Anders thing. Also, regarding wicked grace, in my mind, it's a bit like poker but I have no idea how that game is played.
