Isabela held firmly onto Fenris as she gripped the neck of the dragon firmly between her thighs and grinned fiercely into the wind. This was the most exhilarating ride she'd ever had in her life - and she'd had more than her fair share of wild rides in her life. She couldn't restrain the crazed laughter that burst from her lips, to be torn away by the wind as soon as uttered.
Hawke was not enjoying himself however. He clutched tightly onto the dragon, his knuckles white as he held on fast to a scale the size and thickness of a buckler shield, and fervently wished for the flight to be over. Below them, the Kirkwall Ternraced breezily along, all sails spread to the magical wind that flew ahead of the great blood-red dragon as she soared effortlessly over an otherwise-tranquil sea in the very eye of the storm. All around them the sea was tossed into a terrifying maelstrom - but here, around the dragon and the ship, bright sunshine shone down onto a circle of calm through a gap in the clouds overhead. It was eerily quiet, and Hawke could not quell a feeling of unease.
The Mage's Pride had sunk in a matter of minutes after her crew had abandoned it entirely for the Tern, which had fared a little better in the storm. Hawke had leapt for the dragon as she scooped up the unconscious Anders in one vast clawed hand, but to his surprise Flemeth had been almost tender in her treatment of the dying man. She had cradled his limp form to her armoured breast before crouching upon the quarterdeck, the ship sinking lower into the waves. She turned glowing white eyes upon the small figures huddled upon the deck, then lowered her head.
"I think she means us to ride," said Sebastian in a tone of wonderment.
"You mean, on her? We get to ride a dragon?" exclaimed Isabela. "You're kidding me, right?"
"It's that or drown," replied Hawke as he drew a knife and bent over Fenris, cutting the half-conscious elf loose from the rails. "Fenris is in no fit state to ride," he observed.
"Leave him to me," replied Isabela as she slung the elf's arm over her shoulders then rose to her feet, pulling him up after her. "I can't believe we get to ride a dragon. I take back everything I ever said about you, Hawke; you really know how to impress a girl!"
"What do you mean, 'everything you've ever said about me'?" objected Hawke as he laced his fingers together and then gave Isabela a leg up the side of the dragon before helping her to pull Fenris up after her.
"Could we perhaps discuss this later - when we're not standing on a sinking ship, perhaps?" suggested Sebastian, looking down with alarm at the water lapping at his ankles as it swept across the quarterdeck.
Hawke glanced around. "Where'd Hollick go?" he asked in surprise.
"He dived overboard the moment Flemeth turned into a dragon," called down Isabela from the dragon's neck where she was settling Fenris in place in front of her, a protective arm looped around his waist as he slumped against her, blinking dazedly as he shivered. "One of the lifeboats is picking him up; I can see them from here. Bloody cowards, the lot of them!" She sounded remarkably cheerful for someone whose ship was sinking beneath their feet.
Hawke clambered awkwardly up the flank of the dragon to settle himself in the slight hollow at the base of her neck, just forward of the immense wings which were stretching and unfurling. Sebastian swung himself up to sit just in front of Hawke with far greater ease and grace despite the lack of an eye. Maybe it's one of those things they teach princes up in Starkhaven, thought Hawke. Eating with the right fork, dealing with uppity noblemen at the Landsmeet, how to mount a dragon without making an idiot of yourself. He held on grimly as the dragon crouched for a moment longer, the waves now slapping against her legs; and then with a strong downbeat of those immense leathery wings she leapt up into the air.
Hawke's head snapped back painfully as the dragon propelled herself swiftly into the air and away from the sinking ship. He blinked away tears as the fierce wind stung his eyes, clinging on grimly as the dragon slowly, almost leisurely circled the stricken ship which was inexorably succumbing to the waves. As the dragon's vast wings beat steadily upon the air and they gained height, the air around them seemed to calm, the waves rowing smaller and rolling more smoothly as they closed over the remaining mast of the Mage's Pride; within moments, Isabela's ship was gone.
"She was a good ship; she served me well," mused Isabela a little sadly. "Ah well. I can always steal another. Like the Tern." She grinned at the thought.
"I'm sure Varric would give her to you if you asked," replied Fenris groggily.
"Oh, hush, you; you're spoiling my fun," replied Isabela.
Now they sped on, the dragon somehow driving the ship on before them and keeping them all safe from the storm. Not for the first time, Hawke wondered at Flemeth's purpose - she had some use for Anders, that much was plain, and for Hawke himself. He could understand her extending her aid to Sebastian, Isabela and Fenris as his companions. But the ship and crew? That seemed rather generous for the Witch of the Wilds. But then again, when all was said and done, the woman called Asha'Bellenar by the elves was still very much an enigma to the human warrior called Hawke.
Flemeth's reasons were her own; for now her purpose and theirs seemed to be in common, and Hawke would just have to trust that that would last long enough to see them through. He wondered what fate he had promised himself to however.
It doesn't matter,he told himself. Anything would be worth the price to save Anders, to save him from the demon plaguing him.
To save him from his Calling. From the Blight.
Damn it, he'd lost so many loved ones; Carver gone to the Wardens (and damn it, for all the differences between them, he would have given a great deal to be able to talk with his brother right now; maybe the Wardens would have some idea how to deal with this whole mess), Bethany, their mother... Lothering... The Blight had changed everything, and now it was taking Anders from him though he had no idea how.
That was the worst of it; the not knowing, not understanding. He might die without ever really knowing, and that seemed the most galling thing of all.
He stared at Sebastian's broad back as the prince sat seemingly unconcerned, as though he were out for a ride on a favoured stallion on a sunny afternoon and not swooping along at fell speed high above an enchanted ocean upon the back of a dragon, like something out of legend. How did he do that, damn him? Bloody princes.
Had Hawke been privy to the thoughts in Sebastian's head, he would have been surprised. Sebastian barely dared to move - even to breathe. He was terrified and awestruck in equal measure. Was he dreaming? The sharp wind that cut his face and drew tears from his single remaining sky-blue eye unmercifully would seem to indicate he was awake, and yet it all seemed too utterly fantastic to be real. It had to be a dream.
And yet he could feel the dragon's muscles shifting, stretching, contracting, moving beneath him; he could hear the creak of leathery hide as the vast powerful wings beat unceasingly, driving them onward. Heat radiated from the very skin of the dragon, palpable through the borrowed leather trews he wore. He felt warm in spite of the thin linen shirt and the coarse wool tunic; glancing forward, he could see the warmth was reviving Fenris also, for which he was glad - he had feared the elf was seriously affected with hypothermia following his near-drowning, but now he could see the elf sitting more upright and seeming more himself as he conversed with Isabela. Sebastian closed his eyes and briefly offered up a fervent prayer of thanks to Andraste.
Then Fenris said something to Isabela, and she turned back to shout to the others.
"Land ahoy!"
Opening his eyes, Sebastian leaned forward to stare ahead into the wind. It was hard to be certain, but there seemed to be a dark blue-grey smudge upon the horizon that was slowly growing as they sped on over the sea's surface.
Llomerryn.