25

Isabela didn't see Hawke for a fortnight after Leandra's death. She had wanted to go to her, but she knew where it would lead, and she couldn't let that happen again. It had been hard enough to leave Hawke that night, and Isabela doubted that she was strong enough to do it again. Aveline and Varric checked on Hawke daily, so that was a small comfort.

"I'm starting to get worried, Rivaini, she's not doing well" Varric said, staring down at his mead, and sucking his teeth.

"What does that mean though? What is she doing?" Isabela asked, leaning forward in her seat.

"Well, I haven't seen her leave her bed yet. Neither has Aveline. And Bodahn said that he brings her meals up to her, and they come back down untouched. But then, he said she's been doing that for a while now…" His eyes flashed guiltily to Isabela, realising that he'd given away too much information.

She hung her head. She had noticed that Hawke's hip bones had stuck out sharply, her cheekbones had been more pronounced and Isabela could feel every rib when she ran her hands over Hawke's body. But it had been dark, and Isabela hadn't seen the woman in a month, so she'd told herself she was imagining it.

Varric continued. "I don't know, she just seems kind of, consumed. She's all alone, in that big house. Her Uncle and brother are both blaming her for the murder. She's in a really bad place. I don't know what to do for her."

"If I knew how to help her, trust me, I would help. I'm not completely heartless. Hawke has been… good to me."

Varric nodded. "I know, I know. I'm not blaming you. I just wish there was something we could do." He shrugged. "I guess she's just got to get through it on her own."

Isabela felt sick for what she was about to ask Hawke to do.

Her contact, a filthy rat by the name of Martin, had finally come through. Isabela had no patience for the man and his greedy eyes, but his information was usually good. After all this time, the relic had shown up, being pedaled by a crooked merchant named Wall Eyed Sam.

The deal had been brokered, and the relic would be passed into Tevinter hands before the night was over. The exchange was happening in the Foundry district of Lowtown. Just to add salt to the wound, not only would she be dragging Hawke away from her grief, but she would be taking her within a few buildings of where her mother had met her grisly end.

But Isabela needed this. Castillion would cancel the contract on her head. The Qunari would be too busy warring with the Tevinters to bother pursuing her. She could leave Kirkwall with a clean slate. Castillion might even be happy enough with her to reward her with a replacement ship. And most importantly, she could escape Hawke, and her pretty lips, and her smiley eyes, and her hair that always smelled like flowers.

She would need Hawke's help for the pickup though. Tevinter magisters were no easy mark, and they would come with backup. They would not simply hand the relic over. But Hawke had already proven that she was more than a match for them. And so Isabela swallowed the last of her mead, and steeled herself to go and ask Hawke one last huge favour.

"Isabela, it's nice to see you." It was unusual for Hawke to answer her own front door.

Isabela was taken aback by the mage's appearance. She wore no makeup, her eyes were puffy and her hair looked unusually greasy. Her cheekbones had a gauntness to them, and the tendons in her thin neck stood out.

"Where are your servants?" Isabela asked, stepping through the opened door.

"I've dismissed them for a few days. All that fussing about, wanting to talk and force-feed me. I just need to be alone."

"I see…" Isabela said, looking her former-lover up and down. Isabela had known Hawke's body very well, and she could see, even through clothes, that Hawke was skin and bones. "Maybe the force-feeding wouldn't be such a bad thing, Hawke. You need to look after yourself," she added gently.

Hawke shrugged, and looked down at her feet. "I saw my mother's head cut off and put onto the body of another woman. I don't think I'll ever be hungry again."

Isabela gulped and took a few deep breaths. I can't believe I'm going to ask this of her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Hawke interrupted before she could begin. "I meant to thank you, by the way. For the other night. I'm nothing to you, and you don't owe me anything. You didn't have to come over, but you did. It was… very kind. I really appreciated it."

Isabela touched Hawke's arm. "You're not nothing to me, Hawke" she said softly.

Hawke's eyes frosted over with tears, and she turned away. "I'm sorry, I'm not being much of a hostess. Can I get you a drink?"

"I… uh… I actually came here to ask you something. A favour. A big one."

Hawke wiped her eyes, and turned back to face Isabela. "What is it?"

"Do you remember that relic I was after? The one that Castillion wants to kill me over?"

Hawke nodded.

"Well, it's finally turned up in Kirkwall. But it will be leaving to go to the Tevinter Imperium tonight. I have one chance to get it back, Hawke. Castillion will call off the hit, and I'll finally be free of him."

Hawke ran a hand through her hair. "And so you need me? Because…? Ah… I see. Because you don't know anybody else who can take on a magister."

"I'm so sorry, Hawke, I know the timing is terrible."

Hawke stood up straighter, and her jaw set. "No, the timing is perfect. Tevinter magisters are known for their liberal use of blood magic. They will all die screaming, I swear it. Get Fenris too, he'll want to be a part of this. Meet me out the front of my house in an hour. Where is the deal happening?"

Isabela swallowed hard. "In a foundry… in Lowtown."

Hawke's eyes flashed with anger. "Very well. I'll see you soon."

"I'll tell you this much, Isabela, timing is certainly not your strong suit" Fenris mused in his usual monotone.

They were on their way to Hawke's house, as they'd been instructed. "I know, I know, but it couldn't be helped. You should be happy. I'm lining up mages for you to slay. You're still into that, aren't you?"

Fenris frowned deeply. "You play upon your… connection… with Hawke, far too readily. I hope that one day, she sees you for what you are."

Isabela looked at the tall, lanky elf. "That's a total load of bollocks, coming from you. You didn't hesitate to bring Hawke into a battle with a powerful magister when it suited your needs."

He looked down at her. "Yes. A magister that she beat in a stunning victory. It's not the same."

"It's exactly the same. You didn't know that was going to happen. She could be a blood splatter on the floor of The Hanged Man right now, all because of you. Don't
accuse me of abusing connections, we've all used her at one point or another. At least I had the decency to throw a few orgasms her way."

Fenris scoffed. "Hawke and I fight for each other because we have the mutual respect of warriors. Not because I tempt and control her with what's between my legs."

Isabela fumed silently beside him. She had a dozen replies at the ready, but she needed Fenris to have her back tonight.

Hawke was waiting for them at her front door. Her robes, which had always fitted her so deliciously, were hanging off her now. She looked terrible, with big, black circles under her eyes and her stringy black hair pulled back into a messy bun. She attempted a smile at her two companions, but it more closely resembled a grimace.

Fenris inhaled sharply at the jarring sight of the mage. "Hawke, it is good to see you. I doubt anything I could say would be sufficient, but, for what it's worth, I am sorry for the loss of your lady Mother."

Hawke bowed her head slightly. "Thank you, Fenris. That is most kind of you." She turned her attention towards Isabela, "Has Fenris been briefed?"

Isabela crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes, the small amount that he would listen to."

Fenris ignored the jab. "Just tell me where to aim my sword, Hawke. It is yours, as always."

"Okay, then let us be off" Hawke announced crisply, as she turned in the direction of Lowtown.