Part 29: in which a girl makes clear what she desires, another girl almost chokes and an elf doesn't know what to make of the situation. In short: old same.

With a deep contented grunt Hawke sank languorously into the cushions on the comfortable sofa and crossed her ankles. Appreciatively she looked around, at the bright painted walls, at the elegant, delicately looking wooden tables and chairs, the wind lights hanging from the low rafters, the candles-in-bottles on the tabletops; at the palm trees, the oleanders, the winding vine branches and colourful garlands. All fake of course, but such good replicas that they almost seemed real. On the far wall even some artistic paintwork was done; nothing too prominent or explicit, mind you. Just enough to give you the illusion you could be sitting on a sunny boulevard somewhere in Rivain. Hawke took a sip, or rather a gulp, from her cocktail. It even tasted like Rivain. And by now she knew what that tasted like.

'I like what you've done with the place,' she told Isabela. 'Yet I'm also a bit surprised.'

'About what?' Isabela sank into the pillows next to her friend.

Hawke vaguely waved a hand around. 'About the topic of the furnishing. To be honest, when I heard of your new enterprise, I had expected a more, how to put it, boudoir-ish theme. With lots of, er, tableaux au naturel, so to speak.'

Isabela laughed wholeheartedly. 'I've contemplated it, of course. But I thought the sour comments of Captain Men Hands would spoil the fun. As would constantly explaining the scenes to our innocent Kitten.' She forestalled Hawke's predictable reaction with an impatient gesture. 'Yes yes, I know. Our princeling made sure the two words will never go together again.' She took a sip from her own drink. 'The other day our sweet little elf shocked me with telling about the Antivan Milk Sandwich. With just a tiny bit of giggling. She didn't even blush! Would you believe that!' She rested the heels of her booted feet on the low table in front of the sofa and shook her head. 'A pity, really, to never being able to tease her once more with sexual innuendos.'

'Oh I don't know,' Hawke said carelessly, 'she always showed a nifty interest in the subject. I suppose she's a keen student. It disconcerts me more to think of Sebastian as some, eh -'

'Experienced stud?' Isabela hinted . She put up her most sultry voice and murmured in Hawke's ear,'A tiger in bed? Those exquisite muscles finally put into good use? Those lips finally doing what they ought to do? Finally remembering what "manhood" means? All sweaty and panting and moaning and ... yummy?' That last word came out as a hungry, sensual growl.

'Shut up!' Hawke exclaimed, reddening. She was no prude but Isabela had the tendency to push things just over the limit. She made your imagination go dangerously wild. She threw a cushion at the pirate queen.

Isabela swatted the missile out of the way easily. 'Don't tell me you never fantasized about him!'

'I certainly did not,' Hawke stated savagely. 'Who in their right mind would fantasize about a pious, preaching, self-righteous, boring Chantry Brother who advertises abstinence to boot?!'

'Well, I for one -'

'And speaking of disconcerting,' Hawke interrupted her, 'I don't know which image is more unsettling: Sebastian heatedly pawing Merrill or Aveline heatedly pawing Donnic. All sweaty and panting and moaning ... and such.'

Isabel tilted her head pensively. 'It has potential,' she said.

Hawke let out a deep sigh. 'Everything remotely sexual has potential in the pirate's world,' she complained to her glass that to her regret was already empty.

'I cannot deny that,' Isabela giggled, 'can't be helped, though, I'm afraid. It's in the blood, or something like that.' She patted her friend on the upper arm. 'Another drink? Tonight's on the house.' She looked over her shoulder while she sauntered to the counter. 'Who'd have thought the cellar under the Hanged Man would turn out to be such an useful room! Let Varric have his man-cave upstairs, I'm more than happy with this space.' She mixed another cocktail and poured herself a generous amount of rum.

'You still haven't answered my question. About the interior designs, pretty as they are.'

'If we want erotica, we can always go to the Rose,' Isabela said determinedly while she settled in the cushions again and handed Hawke her drink. 'But this is my establishment, my Call of the Siren. And I want my place to remind me of Rivain. Because it's a great country with lots of sun and wonderful drinks and beautiful vistas on the blue, blue sea.'

'You're homesick.' Marian suddenly comprehended.

'I'm always a little homesick, sweetness, even when I'm out at sea, doing what I'm best at.'

'Having sex with your crew?' Hawke suggested. She smiled crookedly. 'Just an educated guess.'

Isabela threw her a dark scowl. 'That too. But then I remember my annoying friends live here, in crazy, dreary Kirkwall, and I feel better. And now I've made a small piece of Dairsmuid come alive in this city. My private woman-cave if you will, and you are all invited to enjoy it. And to top it all: I can make quite a profit out of it. An outstanding nightclub with outstanding drinks that doesn't require an acquired taste to knock them back without retching.'

Carefully Hawke placed her glass on the table. 'So it all worked out fine..?' she said tentatively. 'You know, I was convinced, Fenris and I were convinced, that you and Varric would have been divorced when we got back from our holiday. But instead we find you both flourishing.'

'Divorced?!' Isabela cried out, almost sounding hurt.

'I know, I know,' Hawke said, fluttering her hands, 'the wretched Complete Peoples Laws et cetera. But I'd thought by now Varric would have found a niche. Besides, I'd imagine adultery would do the trick.'

'Why would he?' the pirate queen said, genuinely surprised. 'As you observed so well, we're flourishing! Have you seen him strutting around up there?' She pointed at the ceiling. 'He's as happy as a fox in a hen house! As am I! Alright, as a vixen in a hen house. Why change that by getting a divorce?'

Fervently Hawke tried to keep up. 'Are you trying to tell me, I mean, are you, eh, together, in bed?' she ended lamely.

Isabela burst out laughing. 'Of course not! You know his idiotic fetish for his crossbow. Faithful till death. Sometimes you'd think Bianca's a real woman. You should have married those two!'

Hawke picked up her glass, feeling strangely relieved, and took a sip.

'No,' Isabela went on, 'I've taken a lover. And the beauty of this marriage is I don't even have to keep it a secret.' Wickedly she observed the other woman while she casually announced, 'I'd have never imagined Anders would be such a satisfying animal between the sheets.'

Hawke choked on her sip and started spraying rum and pineapple-juice all over the place. 'What?!' she managed somewhere between two bouts of coughing.

Helpfully Isabela repeatedly rapped her back with the flat of her hand, harder than strictly necessary. 'You don't know what you've been missing by rejecting his advances,' she continued mercilessly. 'I really hope Fenris's performance in bed is worth it, because - '

Fast as a viper Hawke sat straight. She pointed an accusing finger at her friend. 'That's quite enough, thank you! Just, just, shut up!' she shouted agitated. She wondered why she reacted so strongly. She didn't begrudge Isabela nor denied Anders his pleasure. Jealousy was an emotion that played no part whatsoever. Perhaps it was the shock of hearing something so incomprehensible as Isabela taking the mage to her bed and, weirder even, something so extravagant as Anders actually having sex.

'Are you sure? You don't want to hear all the juicy details?'

Hawke already opened her mouth to yell she indeed didn't, thank you very much, but then inwardly shook herself. Stop acting like some naif, distraught waif, you twit! So she changed her mind and instead of yelling she began to laugh. If it was really true what the pirate queen claimed - and why would she lie about it - then she couldn't wait to hear all about it. 'You bet I want to!' She wiped away the tears that rolled down her cheeks. 'Let me guess: the infamous electricity-trick.'

'And that was just the start of it,' Isabela said with a conspiratorially wink. 'Keep in mind,' she said when she noticed Hawke looking slightly concerned, ' this is not a love affair. It's simply sex. Damn good sex, admittedly, but just sex.'

'I hope Anders thinks the same,' Hawke mumbled. And then she became aware of the other woman's hardly detectable change of colour. She shot to attention. 'No!' Again fit of laughter bubbled up in her throat. 'No! Don't tell me you've fallen in love with him!'

'I have not!' Isabela shrilled indignantly but she couldn't hide her flush. She groaned. 'I let him on top,' she confessed, grumbling.

'Wow.' Hawke leaned back in the cushions. She was in awe. 'He was that good, was he?'

'Yep, he was,' Isabela mooned dreamily. 'He still is.' Then she shot to attention as well. 'You can't tell anyone, you hear me?! No one must know this!'

'Not even Anders himself?'

'Especially not Anders! What must he think! He'll get it into his head he can play boss and then everything will be ruined!' One could build a brick house in the heavy silence Hawke let fall by not giving a reply whatsoever. It made Isabela squirm. 'Listen, sweetness. It's not about love and definitely not about falling in love. But he makes me happy.' She smiled at Marian.'Me thinks that's enough.'

Hawke returned the smile. 'Me thinks the same.' She waved at her spoiled drink. 'Empty. And not in the good way. I take it there's more where this came from?'

Isabela beamed at her. ' As much as you like.'

'And for you information,' Hawke said because she got the feeling she had to rectify something, 'Fenris may not be a tiger or an animal in bed, but he can be an angel and a demon at the same time. I think that's way better.'

Isabela's ringing laughter trailed after her on her trip to the bar. 'If only you'd learn how to share!' she murmured and shook her head regretfully.

From the corner of his eye Fenris observed his male companions. He didn't quite know what to make of it. Anders, in his memory nothing but a whining self-proclaimed martyr who pined after his woman, was smirking as a cat that had swallowed the canary. And Donnic, who he formerly knew as a stern, serious guardsman, looked contented as said cat after emptying the bowl with cream as desert. And all the while Varric kept on wearing such a broad grin that he was in permanent danger of losing the top of his head. It was unnerving.

'I fold,' Fenris said, throwing down his carts.

'What?' Varric cried. 'Already? You can't have been dealt such a bad hand!'

'No. But you all behaving so uncharacteristically makes me lose my concentration,' Fenris scoffed.

'Hark the elf!' Varric jeered mordantly. 'And behold the shameless glow that nowadays has found an everlasting home in his features! Do you think you've the exclusive rights to happiness?'

Fenris delicately raised his dark eyebrows. 'Of course not. But I keep wondering what the next nice surprise will be you have in store for us and when it will stab us in the back or smack us right in the face.'

Secretly he had been fearing all sorts of cunning traps awaiting them on their return from their holiday. He had been sneaking through the estate, searching the premises from top to bottom. Marian had laughed about it, but at the same time had thoroughly gone through the mail and even had gone as far as inspecting the Chantry Board. Up until now they had found nothing untoward, but that blissful situation could change any minute.

'My, are we suspicious today!' Anders grinned merrily.

'And with good reasons too,' Fenris bit irritably. The situating was getting on his nerves and he began to suspect his friends, or antagonist in Anders's case, were possessed by very devious demons. He knew it was nonsense and that riled him even more. Demons were easy to struck down. This stupid behaviour was not.

'Look who's talking,' Varric said. 'Who were the ones that got me and the Rivaini married in the first place!'

Fenris opened his mouth to utter a protest, saw Varric's shining face, became aware of the other two quite happy faces and sagged. He stood.

Before he could utter a word Varric said, 'The missus has made a rather nice place downstairs. You should go and check it.'

Fenris stared at him. 'The missus,' he echoed, flatly.

'Just go and take a look,' Varric urged him on.

Fenris turned and fled down the stairs. If only to get away from tho too sugary expressions that followed him. He couldn't wait till he he could flee the unsavoury scene with Marian's hand in his.

Thank you so much for reading!